Violet is quite amazed as they drive around the wide sweep of gravelled way. Floyd hands her out. "This is your home henceforth," he says. "You and Cecil are the two treasures I have brought to it, and I hope neither of you will take wings and fly away. I shall look for you both to make me very happy." He has touched the right chord. She glances up and smiles, and is transfigured in spite of the dismal mourning gear. If she _can_ do anything for him! If the benefits will not always lie on his side! He takes her straight through to the elegant drawing-room. She shall be paid the honors in her own proper sphere. While he is waiting he unties the ugly little bonnet and takes her out of her crape shroud, as it looks to him. "Mrs. Grandon has gone out to drive," announces Mary, who has been instructed to say just this, without a bit of apology. Gertrude stands in the doorway. She nearly always wears long white woollen wrappers that cling to her figure and trail on the ground, and intensify the appearance of attenuation. A pale lavender Shetland shawl is wrapped about her. She has had quite a discussion with her mother, in which she had evinced unwonted spirit. Floyd has been good to them, and it will be dreadfully ungenerous to begin by treating his wife badly. Her brother's face is flashed with indignation. "I am glad you had the grace to come, Gertrude," he exclaims, pointedly, and takes her over to Violet, who looks up entreatingly at the tall figure. "Oh," she says, confusedly, "what a little dot you are! And Violet is such a pretty name for you." "I hope you will like me. I hope----" "If you can put up with me," is the rejoinder. "I am in wretched health and scarcely stir from my sofa, but I am sure I _shall_ like you"; and Gertrude resolves bravely that she will be on the side of the new wife, if it does not cost her too much exertion. "What a lovely house!" and Violet draws a long, satisfied breath. "And the river is so near." "You must never go without Jane," annotates Cecil; "must she, papa?" They all smile at this. "I should not like to have her lost," says papa, gravely. "Do you ever go out rowing or sailing?" "I never do," and Gertrude shudders. "I cannot bear the heat of the sun or the chill of evening. But we have boats." "And I am a crack oarsman," says Grandon. "I shall practise up for a match." They begin to ramble about presently. It really is better than if Mrs. Grandon was at home. Out on the wide porches, through the library, up the tower, and Violet is in ecstasies with the view. Then they come down through the chambers, and the young wife feels as if she had been inspecting a palace. How very rich Mr. Grandon must be! If papa had lived he might have made the fortune he used to study over.