“Nonsense! She has only fainted. Go and send mamma here, we will attend to her.”
Leonard left the room, and Hilda bent over Violet and began to rub her hands and bathe her temples. In one hand, clasped tightly between the cold little fingers, was the crumpled letter which had nearly broken Violet’s heart. Hilda’s eyes scintillated.
“Ha! there is some mystery here!” she muttered. “I must see the contents of that letter!”
But she could not remove it from Violet’s grasp; and even while she was endeavoring to do so, the girl opened her eyes. A fearful shudder passed over her.
“Where is he?” she faltered, brokenly.
“Who?”
“That man——”
Violet stopped abruptly, as memory came slowly back to her. She struggled to a sitting posture just as Mrs. Rutledge entered the room, looking pale and frightened.
“My dear child!” she began at once. “Oh, thank Heaven, you are conscious! Come up to your own room, Violet, and lie down. Yes, I insist upon it.”
Violet arose, and leaning upon her aunt’s arm, moved slowly from the room.