And he steadily adhered to this resolution. It was easy to do so, as Boy’s name was never mentioned by Miss Letty now, and all her thoughts seemed taken up with Violet. He put away his friend’s letter unanswered, carefully marking the date on which he received it,—and as he calculated that Boy must be getting on now for twenty, he shook his head and decided that everything, so far as “that unfortunate young chap” was concerned, was rather hopeless.
“However, it’s no use blaming the lad himself too severely,” he considered—“He has had everything against him—his parents have both shown him the worst of examples. His nature was warped at its very commencement and in its very growing—and if he takes to the bottle like his father and runs down-hill at a tearing speed, the fault doesn’t rest entirely with him.”
In the spring of that same year they returned to London, and “settled down,” as the saying is, in order that Violet might take up the career her heart was pining for—that of a thoroughly trained nurse. She was never happier than when she could soothe pain and alleviate suffering, and she was altogether eminently fitted for the profession she sought to adopt. Miss Letty did not deter her, nor did her uncle, for they both saw that work and active interest in the welfare of others was the only way to make her life interesting to herself. She had really no need to work, for Miss Letty had, though Violet knew it not, left her a considerable fortune in her will, and of course Major Desmond, though not a rich man, had made over to her everything he possessed,—but the fact of having money is not sufficient to fill lives which are strong and earnest, and which would fain prove to God that they are worth living. So Violet with her firm faith, pure heart and gentle manner, went into the forests of difficulty, unarmed and fair as Una in Spenser’s famous poem, and studied hard, consecrating herself heart and soul to the work she had undertaken, with the usual result of all earnest endeavour—complete success. Max Nugent had long ceased to importune her for the mending of the broken threads of affection,—and of this she was glad. Her disappointment in her first love had, however, deprived her of any interest or expectation of marriage for herself,—in fact the idea had become repugnant to her mind. One day her uncle asked her,—
“Are you going to devote all your life to the memory of Max Nugent, as Letty has devoted hers to the lost and gone Harry Raikes?”
Violet smiled.
“No, uncle. I have been undeceived—Miss Letty keeps her illusion. I never think of Max now.”
“Well, do you ever think of anybody else?” demanded the Major.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Violet laughed outright.