She does not go over to the cottage until quite late, and walks hurriedly, that it may bring some color to her pale cheeks. Cecil and Elsie Latimer have come to meet her, and upbraid her for being so tardy. They have swung in the hammock, they have run and danced and played, and now Denise has the most magnificent supper on the great porch outside the kitchen door. But if _she_ could have danced and ran and played with them! Mrs. Latimer has a cordial welcome, and Eugene makes his appearance. To do the young man justice, he is utterly fascinating to the small host. Violet watches him with a curiously grateful emotion. There is nothing for her to do, he does it all. "You are in a new character to-night," declares Mrs. Latimer. "It never seemed to me that entertaining children was your forte." "I think you have all undervalued me," he answers, with plaintive audacity, while a merry light shines in his dark eyes. He _is_ very handsome, and so jolly and joyous that the children are convulsed with laughter. They lure him down in the garden afterward for a game of romps. "How Eugene Grandon has changed!" says Mrs. Latimer. "He was extremely moody when Madame Lepelletier first fenced him out a little," and she smiles. "How odd that so many young men should take their first fancy to a woman older than themselves!" "Do they?" says Violet, simply. Somehow she cannot get back to the world wherein she dwelt yesterday. "Yes, I have seen numberless instances. Sometimes it makes a good friendship for after life, but I fancy it will not in this case. Indeed, I do not believe a man could have a friendship with her, for there is no middle ground. It is admiration and love. She is the most fascinating woman I have ever met, and always makes me think of the queens of the old French _salons_." Violet answers briefly to the talk. "She is thinking of her husband," ruminates Mrs. Latimer. "She is very much in love with him, which is a good thing, seeing that the young man is disenchanted, and ready to lay his homage at the feet of another." It is quite dusk when they start for home. Cecil nestles close to Violet, who kisses her tenderly. The child's love is above suspicion or doubt, and very grateful to her aching heart. "You see," exclaims Eugene, as he hands her out, "that I have begun a new _role_. I love you so sincerely that no idle gossip shall touch you through me." The tears come into her eyes for the first time. She longs to cling to him, to weep as one might on the shoulder of a brother. The drawing-room is lighted up, and there are two figures within. "Oh, you are come at last!" says the rather tart voice of Mrs. Grandon, who has telegraphed to Briggs to meet her at the early evening train, finding that she has made some earlier connections on her journey. "I was amazed to find every one away. Ah, my dear Eugene! Cecil, how do you do?" And she stoops to kiss the child.