Mr. and Mrs. Mencke had gone out to make some social calls, and Violet was striving to divert her mind from the all-important theme, by going over her music lesson for to-morrow. It was useless, however; there was no music in her—everything was out of harmony, and her fingers refused to do their work.
She then tried to read, but her mind was in such a chaotic state that words had no meaning for her, and she finally grew so nervous that she could do nothing but pace up and down the room.
The hours slowly dragged on, evening came, and she was upon the point of going up stairs to bed, when a sudden ring at the door-bell made her start with a feeling of mingled shame and joy.
She listened breathlessly, while a servant went to answer the summons, and then heard her usher some one in the drawing-room.
A moment later the girl appeared in the library doorway, bearing a card on a silver salver.
"A caller for you, Miss Violet," she said, as she passed her the bit of pasteboard.
Violet grew dizzy, then the rich color surged over cheek and brow, as she read the name of Wallace Richardson, written upon the spotless surface in a beautiful, flowing hand.
"HE IS MY AFFIANCED HUSBAND."
Violet stood as if dazed for a moment, after reading her lover's name, and realized that he had come in person to reply to her letter, her cheeks fairly blazing with mingled joy and agitation, her heart fluttering like a frightened bird in its cage.