The morning following his betrothal he sent Violet an exquisite bouquet composed of blue and white bell-flowers, cape jasmine, and box, which breathed to the young girl, who was versed in the language of flowers, of gratitude, constancy, and joyfulness of heart.
She turned white and faint again at the sight of them, and a broken-hearted sob burst from her lips.
"Did I promise? did I promise?" she moaned. "I do not remember; but if he says I did, it must be so, for I know that he is too noble to deceive me. I wish I could die! for it seems like sacrilege to become Lord Cameron's wife when my heart is so filled with the image of another."
Mrs. Mencke came in and found her in tears, and was secretly very much annoyed, besides being a trifle conscience-smitten over the strategy which she had employed to bring about this longed-for marriage. But she exerted herself to amuse her troublesome invalid, while she told herself that she should consider it a lucky day when she got her off her hands altogether.
The second morning after matters had been thus settled, Vane Cameron was told that he might pay his betrothed another visit.
This he was, of course, only too glad to do, and his face lighted with positive joy when, upon entering her presence, he saw a cluster of bluebell flowers fastened upon her breast among the folds of her dainty white robe-de chambre.
He went forward and took both her hands in his, pressing his lips first to one and then the other, in a chivalrous, reverent way that touched Violet deeply, and smote her, too, with a sense of guilt and shame.
"God is good to me in granting my heart's desire," he said, in a low, earnest tone. "May His richest blessings be yours in the future, my Violet."
The fair girl could not utter one word in reply. Her heart was beating so rapidly and heavily that for a moment she thought she must suffocate, while that mute cry again went up from its wounded depths:
"Oh! Wallace, Wallace, did I promise?"