“Come,” she replied, “no ill-omened words, Edward. You know the sad context of those lines.”
“No! no sadness to-night, my own Violet, my beautiful, beautiful Violet; you quite dazzle me, my child. I really can’t sit by your side; come, let me sit on your foot-stool here, and look up in your face.”
“Silly boy,” she said, “come along, we shall keep them all waiting for supper.”
While poor De Vayne languished on the bed of sickness, his sufferings were almost the only shadow which chequered the brightness of those weeks at Ildown. In the morning, Julian and Kennedy worked steadily; the afternoon and evening they devoted to amusement and social life. The Kennedys soon became great favourites among the Ildown people, and went out to many cheery Christmas parties; but they enjoyed more the quiet evenings at home when they all sat and talked after dinner round the dining-room fire, and while the two boys played at chess, and Violet and Eva worked or sketched, Julian and Kennedy would read aloud to them in turns. How often those evenings recurred to all their memories in future days.
Soon after the Kennedys had come, Julian received from Camford the Christmas college-list. He had again won a first class, but Kennedy’s name, much to his vexation, appeared only in the third.
“How is it that Edward is only in the third class?” asked Violet of Julian—for, of course, she had seen the list. “He is very clever—is he not?”
“Very; one of the cleverest fellows in Saint Werner’s.”
“Then is he idle?”
“I’m afraid so, Vi. You must get him to work more.”
So when he was seated by her on the sofa in her little boudoir, she said, “You must work more, Edward, at Camford, to please me.”