“Is that why you never married?” asked Violet, in hushed, tender tones.
“Yes, my dear. That is why. For I am an old-fashioned body—and I believe in the maxim, ‘Once love, love always’!”
“Ah yes!”
Violet turned her head away and was silent for a long time. Miss Letty, still working, glanced at her now and then with a smile, till at last she said in sweet, equable tones,—
“Well! How long am I to wait for this little confession! Who is he?”
A face was turned upon her, rosy as the leaves of the trumpet-vine flowers above,—a pair of bright eyes flashed, like the twinkle of the humming-bird’s wings, and a muffled voice exclaimed,—
“Miss Letty!”
In another moment the girl was at her feet, hiding her head in the folds of her old friend’s gown, and making dreadful havoc with the silks and filoselles which were in use for the embroidery.
“Mind! There are needles about!” said Miss Letty, laughing a little—“They will scratch your pretty face—dear me!—you’re catching all the silks in your hair!” and she carefully took out threads of blue and red and gold from the bright, rippling curls of the bent head at her knee. “Now what’s the matter?”
“Nothing is the matter,” answered Violet, still hiding her eyes—though she got hold of Miss Letty’s two hands and held them fast,—“It’s only that last night—he said—he said——”