On, on, she went, like a mad creature, down the long walk which led to the entrance to The Oaks. A turn to the right, and there, at the foot of a huge magnolia-tree, she saw Leonard Yorke. He arose from his seat upon a rustic bench, and, pale and agitated, came to meet her.
“Violet! Good heavens! what is the matter?” he cried. “Oh, my darling, you are ill and in trouble! What has hurt you? Tell me all, Violet, for I would lay down my life for you!”
She sunk upon the seat which he had just vacated, and pressed her hand to her throbbing heart.
“I—I thought you were gone long ago,” she faltered, at last.
“We started for home together, Miss Glyndon and I,” he returned; “but we met Captain Venners” (a frown darkened his handsome face as he spoke the name); “he has just run over from New Orleans, upon business, he says. The moment Miss Glyndon saw him she grew pale as death. Somehow, I believe she hates him. She just bowed to Venners, and then excusing herself to me, saying that she must go home to mother, who is very ill, she galloped off as though for dear life, leaving me with Venners. But he did not linger long. Violet, do you like Will Venners?”
Violet’s face flushed beneath Leonard’s strange searching gaze. She had just recollected the poem which Will had intrusted to her, and which she had failed to deliver. It was the memory of her own delinquency which made her look confused; but how was Leonard to know that?
“Like him?” she repeated; “why, of course I do. Everybody does, I think. He is so gentle and kind and thoughtful for everybody, and he is so handsome and talented, and——”
“There, that is enough!” interposed Leonard, bitterly. “Quite a piece of perfection, to be sure. But don’t forget to supplement his perfections with the fact that he is an outrageous flirt—a trifler—a man who thinks only of his handsome face and graceful figure, and cares nothing for the hearts he breaks in his mad career.”
“I think you are hard on poor Will,” observed Violet, shyly.
But jealousy had the upper hand with Leonard Yorke now, and nothing could stop him or check his mad heart and jealous hatred.