Margaret brought the jewel-case, and everything was taken out; all the compartments were opened, but the amethyst comb was not there. Jane could not sleep that night. At dawn she herself doubted the evidence of her senses. The jewel-case was thoroughly overlooked again, and still Jane was incredulous that she would ever see her comb in Viola's hair again. But that evening, although there were no guests except Harold Lind, who dined at the house, Viola appeared in a pink-tinted gown, with a knot of violets at her waist, and--she wore the amethyst comb. She said not one word concerning it; nobody did. Harold Lind was in wild spirits. The conviction grew upon Jane that the irresponsible, beautiful youth was covertly amusing himself at her, at Viola's, at everybody's expense. Perhaps he included himself. He talked incessantly, not in reality brilliantly, but with an effect of sparkling effervescence which was fairly dazzling. Viola's servants restrained with difficulty their laughter at his sallies. Viola regarded Harold with ill-concealed tenderness and admiration. She herself looked even younger than usual, as if the innate youth in her leaped to meet this charming comrade. Jane felt sickened by it all. She could not understand her friend. Not for one minute did she dream that there could be any serious outcome of the situation; that Viola, would marry this mad youth, who, she knew, was making such covert fun at her expense; but she was bewildered and indignant. She wished that she had not come. That evening when she went to her room she directed Margaret to pack, as she intended to return home the next day. Margaret began folding gowns with alacrity. She was as conservative as her mistress and she severely disapproved of many things. However, the matter of the amethyst comb was uppermost in her mind. She was wild with curiosity. She hardly dared inquire, but finally she did. “About the amethyst comb, ma'am?” she said, with a delicate cough. “What about it, Margaret?” returned Jane, severely. “I thought perhaps Mrs. Longstreet had told you how she happened to have it.” Poor Jane Carew had nobody in whom to confide. For once she spoke her mind to her maid. “She has not said one word. And, oh, Margaret, I don't know what to think of it.” Margaret pursed her lips. “What do YOU think, Margaret?” “I don't know. Miss Jane.” “I don't.” “I did not mention it to Louisa,” said Margaret. “Oh, I hope not!” cried Jane. “But she did to me,” said Margaret. “She asked had I seen Miss Viola's new comb, and then she laughed, and I thought from the way she acted that--” Margaret hesitated. “That what?” “That she meant Mr. Lind had given Miss Viola the comb.” Jane started violently. “Absolutely impossible!” she cried. “That, of course, is nonsense. There must be some explanation. Probably Mrs. Longstreet will explain before we go.”