“I was going to say—surely he makes that one reservation!” she said. “Well, my dear, my advice is that you refrain from entering into any sort of an engagement for at least a year. Your love for each other will hold out during that time of probation if it is worth anything—and then—you will be more certain of your own mind. Yes, I know”—for Violet was about to interrupt her,—“You think you are quite certain now, but you are not quite eighteen yet—a mere child—and Mr. Nugent is a man of the world—believe me, dear, it will be better for you, and better for him, to endure this test of faith. However, I am not the only one whose advice you must consider—there is your uncle Desmond. Now you know, Violet, he is one of the best and kindest men living, and he is very anxious to do everything well for his dear sister’s child,—you will obey his wishes whatever they are, will you not?”
“Indeed, indeed I will!” said Violet earnestly,—“I promise!”
“That’s my dear girl!” and Miss Letty kissed her again—“Now tell me all about this wonderful Max—though I know just how you feel about him.”
“Do you?” said Violet, smiling and blushing—“Then you tell me!”
“You feel,” said Miss Letty, taking her hands and pressing them tenderly, “that there never was, and never will be, such a splendid lover for a girl in the world as he is,—you feel that when he is near you you are quite happy, and want nothing more than just to hear him speak, and watch his eyes resting upon you,—you feel that there is a blank in your life when he is absent,—you feel that you would not worry him or vex him by so much as a thought—you feel that if God were to take him from you now—you would be very lonely—that you would perhaps never get over it all your life long.”
Her voice trembled,—and Violet threw her arms impulsively about her.
“Dear, dear Miss Letty, you know!”
“Yes,” said Miss Letty with a faint smile—“I know! Now, little one, let us try and talk quietly over this affair. Let me get to my work—you talk—and I listen.”
And so as the drowsy heat of the afternoon cooled off towards sunset, when the humming-birds left off kissing the flowers and went to bed, like jewels put by in their velvety nest-cases, the two women sat together—the one young and brimful of hope and the dreams of innocence—the other old, but as fresh in heart and simplicity of faith as the girl who so joyously exulted in her springtime.
That evening Violet went off to a dance at the house of a neighbour, and Major Desmond dropped in to see Miss Letty, just as she was thinking it was about time to go to bed, notwithstanding the wonderful glory of the moon which looks so much more luminous and brilliant in the clear atmosphere of America than in the half misty but more tender pearl tint of the ever-changeful English skies. She stood on the low step of her verandah, gazing wistfully up at the proudly glittering Diana, sweeping through heaven like the veritable huntress of the classic fable, without a cloud to soften the silver flashing of her bow—and as the Major’s stalwart figure came slowly across the lawn, she was for a moment startled. He looked anxious and careworn; and her heart sank a little. She was not actually surprised to see him; he had his suite of rooms at an hotel not so very far away, and he was accustomed to stroll up to her house very often, bringing his friends with him. But a worried look on that cheery face was new to her, and she was not a little troubled to see it.