nd fondly imagined that everything was all right;
never suspecting the mischief--as she would be likely to regard it--that
was being brewed by that artful little god of love--Cupid.

Doctor Norton finally gave his consent to having Violet removed, and on
the same day, when Mrs. Mencke paid her usual visit, she was told that
to-morrow she would be taken home.

The young girl received this unwelcome news in silence, but a great
darkness seemed suddenly to have fallen around her.

After her sister's departure she turned to Mrs. Richardson, and the
woman saw that her eyes were full of tears.

"Dear Mrs. Richardson," she said, "I am so sorry to leave you! I have
been so happy here--it is such a quiet, peaceful place, and you have
been so kind to me, I really feel homesick at the thought of going
home--and that sounds like a paradox, doesn't it?"

Mrs. Richardson smiled fondly into the fair face lifted to hers, though
an expression of pain flitted over her brow at the same time.

"I shall be just as sorry to give you up as you can be to go," she
replied. "You have been a very patient invalid, and it has been simply a
pleasure to have you here. Still, your home is so delightful, and you
have so many kind friends, you will soon forget your quiet sojourn on
Hughes street."

"No, indeed--never!" Violet returned, flushing. Then she added,
impulsively, while a great longing seemed to sweep over her: "I know
that my home is beautiful with everything that money can buy, but--there
is no soul in it."

"My dear child! I am sure you do not mean that," said Mrs. Richardson,
reprovingly. "That is a very sad thing to say about one's own home."

"Yes, I do mean it," Violet answered, with quivering lips. "Belle is
good enough in certain ways, and I suppose she is fond of me, after a
fashion; but she is a society woman, and always full of engagements,
while Wilhelm cares for nothing but his horses and his business. I wish
I had a mother," and a pathetic little sob concluded the sentence.

During the weeks of her illness, the young girl had found a long-felt
void filled by the care and tenderness of this motherly woman.

Mrs. Richardson laid her hand caressingly upon the golden head, and her
heart yearned over the fair invalid. She also had longed for a loving
daughter, to brighten and soothe her declining years, even as Violet
longed for a mother.

Violet reached up and clasped the tender hand, and brought it round to
her lips.