“Loved you! My God——”
But the words died upon Leonard’s lips; the hand that held Violet’s dropped to his side. He stared before him, pale and calm, and outwardly indifferent. For at that moment, just around a curve in the adjacent shrubbery, Hilda appeared. She looked like a picture in her long, clinging black princess gown, which revealed every outline of her graceful figure.
She looked pensive and thoughtful, too; but as she drew nearer the pair beneath the magnolia-tree, she lifted her eyes. Her face flushed, and then grew pale.
“Why, Leonard,” she cried, in affected surprise, coming to a halt before the two, “I thought that you had gone—oh, ages ago!”
Leonard forced a smile.
“I had only reached the gate when Miss Glyndon and I met Captain Venners. He had just arrived from New Orleans—came home upon some business of importance, he said. He stopped his horse long enough to speak with Miss Glyndon and myself, then rode on. But Miss Glyndon has gone home to Yorke Towers,” he added, swiftly, “and I was feeling a little blue and ‘off,’ and so I concluded to sit down here under this grand old magnolia-tree to—to smoke. And then, after I had finished my cigar, I saw Violet coming, and we remained here talking for a few moments.”
Hilda’s great dark eyes were fixed upon his face, as though striving to read its every expression. It struck to poor Violet’s heart like a blow that he had taken great pains to prepare an elaborate explanation to satisfy fair Hilda.
“Violet,” she said, abruptly, “I saw Captain Venners just now for a moment. He asked me to say to you that he would call upon you this evening.” Then, laying her hand upon Leonard’s arm, she added, softly: “Come, Leonard; I want you to look at my bed of Mexican Torranias. They are just lovely!”
And as though powerless to resist her, Leonard allowed her to lead him away, and Violet was left alone.