He had not realized until that morning how very desolate he should feel when Violet was gone, for she might as well be going out of the world altogether, as far as he was concerned, he thought, as back to Auburn avenue.
How could he let her go—resign her to another sphere, as it were, for some favorite of fortune to win? He was suffering torture, and it seemed almost impossible for him to bid her a formal good-by.
Violet lifted a pained, startled look to his face at his cold, reserved tone.
"Forgive me. I did not mean to offend you," she said; "but you must understand something of how I feel. I know that you have saved my life. I shall never forget it as long as I live, and you must let me unburden my heart in some way. At least, I may give you a little keepsake, if nothing more," she pleaded, earnestly.
He smiled into her upturned face. She was so fair, so eager, he had not the heart to repulse her.
"Yes, I should be very glad of some souvenir—you are very good to think of it," he said, with a thrill in his tones which brought the color back to her pale cheeks.
"Thank you for conceding even that much," she returned, brightening; "and now I wonder what it shall be."
"The simplest thing you can think of," Wallace said, hastily; "something that you have worn would be most precious——"
He cut himself short, for he felt that he was betraying too much of what was in his heart.
Violet flashed a sly look at him, and her pulses leaped at his words, and the glance that accompanied them.