itating day. Your unkindness is
breaking my heart."

"Indeed, mamma, I have no wish to be unkind--not to you. But my
presence at your wedding would be a lie. It would seem to give my
approval to an act I hate. I cannot bring myself to do that."

"And you will disgrace me by your absence? You do not care what people
may say of me."

"Nobody will care about my absence. You will be the queen of the day."

"Everybody will care--everybody will talk. I know how malicious people
are, even one's most intimate friends. They will say my own daughter
turned her back upon me on my wedding-day."

"They can hardly say that, when I shall be here in your house!"

Mrs. Tempest went on weeping. She had reduced herself to a condition in
which it was much easier to cry than to leave off crying. The fountain
of her tears seemed inexhaustible.

"A pretty object I shall look to-morrow!" she murmured plaintively, and
this was all she said for some time.

Violet walked up and down the room, sorely distressed, sorely
perplexed. To see her mother's grief, and to be able to give comfort,
and to refuse. That must be undutiful, undaughterly, rebellious. But
had not her mother forfeited all right to her obedience? Were not their
hearts and lives completely sundered by this marriage of to-morrow? To
Violet's stronger nature it seemed as if she were the mother--offended,
outraged by a child's folly and weakness. There sat the child, weeping
piteously, yearning to be forgiven. It was a complete reversal of their
positions.

Her heart was touched by the spectacle of her mother's weakness, by the
mute appeal of those tears.

"What does it matter to me, after all, whether I am absent or present?"
she argued at last. "I cannot prevent this man coming to take
possession of my father's house. I cannot hinder the outrage to my
father's memory. Mamma has been very kind to me--and I have no one else
in the world to love."

She took a few more turns, and then stopped by her mother's chair.

"Will it really make you happier, mamma, if I am at your wedding?"

"It will make me quite happy."

"Very well then; it shall be as you please. But, remember, I shall look
like the wicked fairy. I can't help that."

"You will look lovely. Theodore has sent you home the most exquisite
dress. Come to my room and try it on," said Mrs. Tempest, drying her
tears, and as quickly comforted as a child who has obtained its desire
by means of copious weeping.

"No,