When she does finally return home she is chilled again by the contrast. Marcia has gone to Philadelphia; Mrs. Grandon is cold to a point of severity, and most untender to Cecil. Her surprise is a beautiful new piano, for Laura's has gone to the city. She begins at once with Cecil's lessons, and this engrosses her to some extent. Cecil is quick and rapturously fond of music, "real music" as she calls it, but scales and exercises are simply horrible. Gertrude comes in now and then, oddly enough, and insists that it rather amuses her. She sits with her in the evenings when Floyd is away, and often accompanies her in a drive. Violet does not imagine there is any ulterior motive in all this, but Gertrude is really desirous of helping to keep the peace. When she is present Mrs. Grandon is not so scornful or so aggressive. Gertrude does not want hard or stinging words uttered that might stir up resentment. If Violet cannot love, at least let her respect. It will be an old story presently, and the mother will feel less bitter about it. It is such a strange thing for Gertrude to think of any one beside herself that her heart warms curiously, seems to come out of her everlasting novels and takes an interest in humanity, in nature, to go back to the dreams of her lost youth. Violet is so sweet, so tender! If she had known any such girl friend then, but she and Marcia never have been real friends. There is another delicate thought in Gertrude's soul. Laura and her mother have sneered about the professor, with whom they are all charmed, nevertheless; and she means that no evil tongue shall say with truth that Violet is alone too much with him or lays herself out to attract him. She furbishes up her old knowledge and talks with them, she reads the books he has recommended to Violet, and they discuss them together until it appears as if she were the interested one. She nearly always goes with her to the cottage. Sometimes she wonders why she does all this when it is such a bore. Why should she care about Violet particularly? But when the soft arms are clasped round her neck and the sweet, fragrant lips throb with tender kisses, she wakes to a sad and secret knowledge of wasted years. To Violet there comes one crowning glory, that is the promised _matinee_. Miss Neilson is to play _Juliet_, and though Floyd considers it rather weak and sweet, Violet is enraptured. "Would you like to go to a lunch or dinner at Madame Lepelletier's?" he asks. Violet considers a moment. She cannot tell why, but she longs for this pleasure _alone_ with Mr. Grandon. It will be her first real enjoyment with him. "Would you--rather?" There is an exquisite timidity in her voice, the touch of deference to the husband's wishes that cannot but be flattering. She will go if _he_ desires it. He has only to speak. He remembers some one else who never considered his pleasure or desire.