, 1898-11-04
CHAPTER TT.

face.
CHAPTER II.
The lover who pleaded so earnestly with
her was some years older than Violante.
As Lord Vivian Selwyn stands there,
ones eyes rest on him in admiration. He
presents a marked contrast to the young
girl by his side; she is fair and graceful,
be dark and stately; she is winsome and
sweet, he has all the dignity of a grand
old race; her face is gentle and flower
like, his descended from crusaders and
cavaliers, brave and noble; she is delicate
and fragile, he strong, with a martial air
that agrees well with his broad shoulders,
his open chest and magnifcently develop
ed limbs.
He had wooed her with such loving, ten
der words, she had no power to resist.
Last night" it was true he had taken her
by surprise, and she had confessed she
loved him, but for long hours afterward
she had been busy thinking; prudence and
common sense told her the difference be-
tween them in rank, position and station
In life was too great, and that she had
better fly in time from the dazzling dream.
All day the lovely young face had worn a
grave, serious expression, and the dark
eyes had peer Swallowed with care. How
could she, Violante Temple, the daughter
of a country lawyer, whose only boast
was a good and honored life-how could
she take the place Of Lady Selwyn, of
Selwyn Castle?
So she had spent the day in shaping
great resolves. She would see him once
more, and tell him it could never be-that
he had better go and leave her; for il
could not end happily, her own instinct
told her sc. Ally the sweet, flower
=ssrsc-1Ad ssen da,ged ayithnenese-
thoughts, and in the y my af-
ternoon she had gone TO- favorite
nook, the stile in the lane, to sit there and
shape her thoughts into words, when a
hand, whose clasp she knew well, touched
hers, and the voice she loved best said:
"Violante, l have been looking every
where for you. l have come to ask you
IL you meant what you said last night,
and if you are willing to be my wife?"
And before she knew what to reply he
had raised her from the m-oss-covered
stone on which she sat, and they were
standing under the delicate, dropping,
golden laburnums.
81 meant what l said," she replied.
shyly; "but can never be your wife,"
Then in good order as she remembered
them she made use of all those sensible
arguments which made him so impatient.
Il am twenty-five years old" he said,
smilingly. Il am my own master; l am
rich and prosperous, and / love only one
woman in the world. Yet you tell me |
cannot have her for my wife. If she is to
be won by prayers and by love, she shall
be mine, Violante; for life will be all
blank to me without her."
One by one he vanquished all her argu-
ments, and at last, with her hands clasp
ed in his, she had promised to be his wife
to love him, to be true to him, to care
for him, and him alone, until she died.
what will my father say?" cried the
girl suddenly. He has not the ~faintest
idea, Vivian, that you have spent these
summer weeks in falling in love with me-
"He will be very pleased, and will say
[ have spent my time WELL" was the
smiling reply.
HE will never believe l am old enough
to be married." she cried, with a low,
delicious laugh, sweet as the chime of
bells.
When Mr.. Temple returned that even
ing to Oakside he was surprised at the
merry voices and happy faces awaiting
him.
His daughter-his little Violante-to be
married! His little girl, who had made
his tea, mended his socks and attended
to his comforts, to become Lady Selwyn
Of Selwyn Castle, one of the grandest
ladies in the landi
you have no objection p said Lord
Vivian to Mr.. Temple; 'you are willing to
give Violante to meY'
Il am simply bewildered,'' was the
truthful reply. II do not know whether
to be angry and refuse you-to tell you
such nonsense must be forgotten-or
whether 1 ought to give you both my
blessing. / am bewildered, as l have new
er been in life before"
Take some time to- consider, sir" re-
piled the young lover: Il shall. be at
Woodeaves ten days longer" -.
That night, while his daughters golden
head lay at rest, and her.fair face smiled
peacefully, Horace Temple sat up to
think, and consider what it would be best
to do.
He himself had married young; he did
not remember whether he had been very
p~assionately in love with his own wife
or not, but he had made his wife very
happy, he had provided for all her wants:
she had lived a commonplace, happy life
in the pretty home at Oakside. Two
children were born to them there; BERTHE,
son, and four years afterward. Vio-
lante, a lovely, dark-eyed, ~fair-haired
daughter.
Then, quietly and gently as she had liv-
ed, Mrs. Temple faded away and died, not
of any acute or painful disease, but of
slow, lingering decline. She faded, out
of life as the colors die out of the west
arn sky; dying 20 gently that those who