Still as a statue, Warrington waited for Violet to go. She must not suspect his presence there; neither she nor any one else in the house must know of the midnight visitor who had entered in the midst of the revelry. He would wait there until Violet, believing that her mother was asleep and did not hear her, would go away.
At last the sweet voice ceased to plead for admission, and slowly and reluctantly the girl retraced her steps to the ball-room. Once there, she sought her aunt, Mrs. Rutledge, her mother’s widowed sister, who made her home at The Oaks, together with her daughter Hilda. Mrs. Rutledge was a tall, stylish woman, attired in black lace, with a delicate, high-bred face and large, dark eyes, like Rosamond Arleigh’s own.
“Aunt Constance”—Violet’s voice was full of uneasiness—“I am so anxious about mamma. I was dancing the Lancers just now, and all at once I thought I heard her call me. It troubled me so that I induced Miss Ray to take my place, made it all right with my partner, and hurried up to mamma’s room. But though I rapped hard at the door, I received no answer, and the room was so still—as still as the grave! Aunt Constance, do you think there is anything wrong?”
“Wrong? No. You alarm yourself unnecessarily, my child. If Rosamond wanted anything, she would ring. She is probably sleeping soundly. Go now and enjoy your ball, my child; you will never have another like it.”
“I know it.”
The sweet voice was full of sadness, and held a ring of unconscious prophecy.
As she turned dejectedly away, a graceful figure in floating white lace and pink rose-buds glided swiftly to her side—a girl of some twenty years, a beautiful, dark-eyed girl. It was Hilda Rutledge.
“Where is Leonard—Mr. Yorke, I should say?” she began at once. “I promised to go down to the river with him to show him the new boat. A tête-à-tête stroll in the moonlight! Violet,” with a light, rippling laugh, and a swift glance into the girl’s pale face, “Look out. Leonard Yorke is fickle and likes to flirt. He has been saying no end of sweet things to me to-night.”
“I do not believe it!”
Violet’s beautiful eyes flashed with indignant protest. Hilda laughed.