Will’s face was pale as death, and his dark eyes shone like stars.
“I want to see her, Heaven knows I do!” he said, sadly; “but suppose that she should refuse to come, Miss Arleigh? It would nearly kill me!”
“She shall not refuse! I will not give her the chance.”
Violet rose to her feet with an air of determination. She felt quite maternal in her regard for this distressed young lover, and her heart was full of the desire to help him and Jessie out of this slough of misunderstanding; for somehow Violet felt that there was a misunderstanding somewhere.
“She shall have no chance to refuse, even if she meditates a refusal,” said Violet, resolutely. “I will steal a march upon her. Just wait here a few moments, Will—only a few moments—and I will see what I can do.”
She glided swiftly, softly away, a slight little figure in its black gown, with pale face and resolute eyes.
Will’s glance followed the slender figure, and a slight moisture crept into his eyes as he murmured softly:
“Heaven bless her kind heart!”
Into the house went Violet, swift and eager. In the hall she encountered Miss Glyndon on her way upstairs to Mrs. Yorke’s room with a sleeping-potion. After administering it, she was expected to sit by the bed and read aloud to the sleepless, nervous invalid until at last sleep should overtake her.
Violet went straight up to Mrs. Yorke’s companion and laid her hand upon the white sleeve of Miss Glyndon’s dress.