mance, and could not follow it; her thoughts would go
back to that fateful day when her life was saved by the coolness and
determination of Wallace Richardson. From that moment her soul had
seemed to become linked to his by some mysterious and indissoluble bond.

All through the brilliant performance she sat absorbed, feeling sad,
depressed, and inexpressibly anxious, and looking like some pale,
beautiful spirit in her white dress trimmed with swan's-down, that was
scarcely less colorless than herself.

Lord Cameron thought he had never seen her so lovely, but he realized
that something was not quite right with her, and, though he had received
Mrs. Mencke's permission to speak when he would, he resolved not to
trouble her that night with any expression of his affection.

After their return to the hotel, Mrs. Mencke followed Violet to her
room, pride and triumph written upon every line of her face.

"Have you anything to tell me, Violet?" she asked, a tremulous eagerness
in her tones.

"No; what could you imagine that I should have to tell you?" the young
girl replied, regarding her with surprise.

"What ails you, Violet?" Mrs. Mencke asked, with a sudden heart-throb,
as she noticed her unusual pallor. "Are you sick? Has--anything
happened?"

"No, I am not sick," Violet answered, with a heavy sigh; "and what could
happen that you would not know about?"

"I know what I wish would happen," returned her sister, eagerly, "and
what Lord Cameron wishes, too. He had eyes for no one but you to-night,
and I must say I never saw you look so pretty before. Your dress is just
exquisite, and it cost a heap of money, too; but that counts for nothing
in comparison with the conquest you have made."

Violet could not fail to understand what all this meant. She flushed
hotly, and nervously began to pull off her gloves.

Mrs. Mencke smiled at the blush; it was ominous for good, she thought.

"You comprehend, I perceive," she said, airily; "you know that you have
captured a prize--that the Earl of Sutherland is ready and waiting to
offer you a name and position such as does not fall to the lot of one
girl in ten thousand."

"Nonsense, Belle! I wish you would not talk so to me about Lord
Cameron," Violet petulantly exclaimed.

"It is not nonsense, child, for Vane Cameron has formally proposed for
your hand in marriage--has asked Will's and my consent to win you if he
can."

"Belle!"

Violet turned upon her sister, crimson