Violet, finding the door of her mother's dressing-room ajar, had stepped in, then drawn hastily back, fearing to intrude upon what seemed a private interview between her and her namesake daughter; Elsie being seated on a cushion at her mamma's feet, her face half hidden on her lap, while mamma's soft white hand gently caressed her hair and cheek. "I feared my presence might not be quite desirable just now, mamma," Violet said gayly, coming forward as she spoke. "But what is the matter?" she asked in alarm, perceiving that tears were trembling in the soft brown eyes that were lifted to hers. "Dear mamma, are you ill? or is Elsie? is anything wrong with her?" "She shall answer for herself," the mother said with a sort of tremulous gayety of tone and manner. "Come, bonny lassie, lift your head and tell your sister of the calamity that has befallen you." There was a whispered word or two of reply, and Elsie rose hastily and glided from the room. "Mamma, is she sick?" asked Violet, surprised and troubled. "No, dear child. It is--the old story:" and the mother sighed involuntarily. "We cannot keep her always; some one wants to take her from us." "Some one! oh who, mamma? who would dare? But you and papa will never allow it?" "Ah, my child, we cannot refuse; and I understand now, as I never did before, why my father looked so sad when yours asked him for his daughter." Light flashed upon Violet. "Ah mamma, is that it? and who--but I think I know. It is Lester Leland, is it not?" Her mother's smile told her that her conjecture was correct. Violet sighed as she took the seat just vacated by her sister, folded her arms on her mother's lap, and looked up with loving eyes into her face. "Dear mamma, I am so sorry for you! for papa too, and for myself. What shall I do without my sister? How can you and papa do without her? How _can_ she? I'm sure no one in the world can ever be so dear to _me_ as my own precious father and mother. And I wish--I wish Lester Leland had never seen her." "No, darling, we should not wish that. These things must be; God in his infinite wisdom and goodness has so ordered it. I am sad at the thought of parting with my dear child, yet how could I be so selfish as to wish her to miss the great happiness that I have found in the love of husband and children?" Violet answered with a doubtful "Yes, mamma, but--" "Well, dear?" her mother asked with a smile, after waiting in vain for the conclusion of the sentence. "I am sure there is not another man in all the world like papa; not one half so dear and good and kind and lovable." "Ah, you may change your mind about that some day. It is precisely what I used to think and say of my dear father, before I quite learned the worth of yours." "Ah, yes, I forgot grandpa! he is--almost as nice and dear as papa. But there can't be another one, I'm very, every sure of that. Lester Leland is not half so nice. Oh I don't see how Elsie _can_!"