He sat down beside her and began to tell her about the arrangements he had made for going "home," and she was touched to see how, in every detail, he had had only her comfort and pleasure in mind.
"Shall you like it?" he asked, when he had sketched the proposed journey to her.
"Yes, thank you; you are very kind," she tried to say, heartily, but, in spite of her effort, the tone sounded cold and formal.
The young man's face fell. He had so hoped to see hers light up with anticipation.
"Is there anything that you would like changed? Would you prefer to go another way, or to take in other places on the route?" he asked, wishing, oh, so earnestly, that she would express some preference, or even make some objection to his plans; anything would be more endurable than such apathetic acquiescence.
"No, let it stand, please, just as you have it," she answered, in a somewhat weary tone.
"Have you everything you wish? Are there no little things that you need—that have been overlooked—for—to-morrow?" he asked, wistfully, his voice dropping to a tender cadence at that last word, as he realized how nearly the one great desire of his heart was within his grasp.
Was it his imagination, or did a shiver of repulsion run over Violet's frame at this reference to their wedding-day?
She was as white as the fleecy shawl that was thrown about her shoulders, and there was a pathetic droop about her lovely mouth that pained him exceedingly.
"No, thank you," she quietly replied; "Belle has attended to everything."