One day her mother sent her into the heart of the city on an errand, and when she returned they saw by the expression of her face that something startling had happened.
“What is it, my poor Lena? What has grieved you so much, and washed out all the light of your eyes in tears?” cried the anxious mother.
Lena had, indeed, been weeping bitterly all the way home. Her thick vail was wet with the tears she had shed.
With a stifled sob, she threw off her hat and wrap, and sank wearily into a chair, while Violet and her mother hung about her in surprise and sympathy.
“Oh, Lena, what is the matter? What new sorrow has come to your poor heart?” cried Violet.
Lena lifted her beautiful streaming eyes to her sweet friend, crying, bitterly:
“My poor darling, it is for you that I weep so bitterly! I had hoped—hoped—but all is over now. I have seen Jacques, the valet. I know all the bitter truth!” and clasping Violet’s hand, she pressed it to her feverish lips in passionate sympathy.
“You have seen Jacques Brown, Harold Castello’s servant? When? Where?” exclaimed Mrs. Lavarre, in keen agitation.
CHAPTER XL.
“VIOLET, PLEASE COME HOME!”
Violet had fallen back in agonized silence, guessing the fatal truth from Lena’s incoherent speech. Her eyes grew dim, her face pale, and a hand of steel seemed to clutch her throat, pressing out all the joy and hope and life. She waited in dumb despair for Lena’s reply to her mother’s words.