corner, where
she posted it with her own hands, after which she sped back to her
chamber and relieved her sensitive heart in another burst of tears.

She would not have been human if she had not regretted her act, now that
it was past recall. She grew nervous and self-abusive, declared that she
had been unmaidenly, and made herself as wretched as possible.

She dared not think what would be the result of her letter. Would
Wallace despise her for unsexing herself and almost proposing to him?
Would he, with his exaggerated ideas of honor still claim that it would
be unmanly to accept the love which she had so freely offered him?

Thoughts such as these occupied her waking hours up to the following
afternoon, when she expected a letter from Wallace, and was deeply
disappointed when none came.

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.

CHAPTER VII.

"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.

Then she grew pale with a sudden fear and dread.

What would be the outcome of this interview?

Would it bring her happiness or sorrow?

With trembling limbs, and a face