“Yes; our little Gracie wears her name as well as her looks; also inherits from her the frail health which causes us so much anxiety, as well as her timidity and sweet gentleness of manner and disposition.”
“She must have been sweet and beautiful,” Violet said low and softly. “And you loved her very much?”
“Dearly, dearly; but no more than I love her sweet successor,” accompanying the last words with a very tender caress. “I have often asked myself what I ever did to deserve the love of two such women.”
“I should rather ask what they ever did to deserve yours,” said Violet. “I think the hardest part of dying would be leaving you.”
“Strange! Grace told me it was so to her,” he remarked in surprise.
“Poor thing! I can not help pitying her,” said Violet. “And I quite fill her place to you, Levis?” she asked with some hesitation, and a wistful, longing look up into his face.
“Entirely, my dear love,” he said, holding her close to his heart, with repeated and most loving caresses.
“Ah, then I do not feel jealous of the love you had for her, no matter how great it was. But please tell me more about her; of the life you led together, and the time when—she left you.”
“Ah, that was a sad time,” he said with emotion; then for some moments seemed lost in retrospective thought.
Violet waited in silence, her hand still in his, her eyes gazing tenderly into his grave, almost sorrowful face.