ace wild and pale. Mrs. Warrener came running in; but
paused, and almost retreated in fear from the awful spectacle before
her; for the girl still held the dead man's hand, and she was laughing
merrily. The dark sea she had dreaded had overtaken her at last.

* * * * *

But one more scene--months afterward. It is the breakfast room in Lady
North's house in Euston Square; and Anatolia is sitting there alone. The
door opens, and a tall young girl, dressed in a white morning costume,
comes silently in; there is a strange and piteous look of trouble in her
dark eyes. Anatolia goes over to her, and takes her hand very tenderly,
and leads her to the easy-chair she had herself just quitted.

"There is not any letter yet?" she asks, having looked all round the
table with a sad and wearied air.

"No, dear, not yet," says Anatolia, who, unlovely though she may be, has
a sympathetic heart; and her lip trembles as she speaks. "You must be
patient, Violet."

"It is another morning gone, and there is no letter, and I cannot
understand it," says the girl, apparently to herself, and then she
begins to cry silently, while her half-sister goes to her, and puts her
arm around her neck, and tries to soothe her.

Lady North comes into the room. Some changes have happened within these
few months; it is "Mother" and "My child" now between the enemies of
yore. And as she bids Violet good morning, and gently kisses her, the
girl renews her complaint.

"Mother, why do they keep back his letter? I know he must have written
to me long ago; and I cannot go to him until I get the letter! and he
will wonder why I am not coming. Morning after morning I listen for the
postman--I can hear him in the street from house to house--and they all
get their letters, but I don't get this one that is worth all the world
to me. And I never neglected anything that he said; and I was always
very obedient to him; and he will wonder now that I don't go to him, and
perhaps he will think that I am among my other friends now and have
forgotten---- No, he will not think that. I have not forgotten."

"My child, you must not vex yourself," says Lady North with all the
tenderness of which she is capable--and Anatolia is bitterly crying all
the while. "It will be all right. And you must not look sad to-day; for
you know Mrs. Warrener and your friend Amy are coming to see you."

She does not seem to pay much heed.

"Shall we go for the