ed by such a declaration as you have just made, and you a mere
child yet----"

"I believe you were married at eighteen, Belle; I shall be eighteen in
two months," Violet quietly interrupted, but with a roguish gleam in her
blue eyes.

Mrs. Mencke colored.

She had by no means forgotten the circumstances connected with her own
marriage, which had been an elopement, because of a stern parent's
objections to the man of her choice; though this fact was not known in
the circle where she now moved.

"Well, you will not marry at eighteen," she answered, tartly.

"Perhaps not; indeed, I have no desire to, but when I do, Mr. Richardson
will be the man whom I shall marry, and I want the matter understood
once for all," Violet returned, with a gravity which betrayed her
unalterable determination.

"You had best put the child to bed, Belle, and I will show this young
carpenter the way out," Mr. Mencke remarked, contemptuously, as if he
really regarded Violet's assertion as simply the iteration of a willful
child.

Violet shot him a look that made him wince; then turning, she laid her
hand upon Wallace's arm.

"It is a shame!" she said, with quivering lips. "I blush that relatives
of mine can stoop to offer any one such indignity. Forgive me that I am
powerless to help it."

"I have nothing to forgive, and I have everything to honor you for,
Violet; but it is best that I should go now, and we will settle this
matter later," the young man replied, in a fond yet regretful tone.

It had been very hard to stand there and preserve his self-control; but
for her sake he had borne all in silence.

"You will never give me up?" the young girl pleaded, her small fingers
closing over his arm appealingly.

He took her hand in a strong yet gentle clasp.

"No, never, until you yourself ask it," he said, firmly.

"That I shall never do. Do you hear, Belle, Wilhelm?" she cried, turning
defiantly to them. "I have given Wallace my promise that I will be his
wife, and he has said that he will never give me up. Just so sure as I
live, I shall fulfill that promise."

Mrs. Mencke lost control of herself entirely at this.

"Violet Huntington!" she cried, white to her lips with rage, "you will
at once retract that rash vow or this house is no longer your home."

"Mrs. Mencke, let me entreat that the subject be dropped for the
present," Wallace here interposed. "Believe me, I shrink from being the
cause of any disturbance in your househ