Walter sprang from his seat in alarm and consternation. He had never before suspected the secret of Violet's hidden love for Ronald Valchester. It all rushed over him now overwhelmingly. With almost womanly tenderness he lifted his stricken sister gently to a sofa, and bringing _eau de cologne_ from the toilet-table laved her cold face and hands with the refreshing water. She opened her eyes and stared blankly at him in a moment. "Darling, are you any better?" he asked, gently. Then Violet threw her white arms round his neck and clung to him, weeping wildly. "Walter, is it indeed true?" she sobbed. "Is she to marry Ronald?" "So she says," he answered. "Do you care, Violet?" "I hate her!" Violet cried, drawing herself from his arms and sitting upright, while rage and jealousy flashed from her eyes--"I hate her! She has stolen my lover from me!" Walter's blue eyes flashed lightning. "Violet, is that true?" he asked. "I thought my friend was the soul of honor; but if he has dared to trifle with your affections he shall render me an account for his perfidy!" Violet only wept and sobbed, without replying. "Tell me, dear," persisted Walter, "has Valchester made love to you, really, while he was slyly wooing Miss Meredith?" Violet was obliged to admit that he had not. "But if he had never seen her--if she had let him alone--I must have won him by the strength of my own love. He could not help loving me in time. Therefore, Lina has really stolen him from me," she persisted, most unreasonably. Walter could not see that it was as Violet said. He tried to argue the case with her; but he soon found that Violet was too jealous and miserable to listen to reason. She only reiterated again and again her hatred of Jaquelina Meredith. Walter took a great deal of blame to himself. He acknowledged that he had done wrong ever to have brought Ronald Valchester to Laurel Hill. "You see, Vi," he said, miserably, "I never looked upon Valchester as one to be lightly won, or one to lightly win a woman's heart. He is not usually gallant, or even attentive, to ladies. I thought him only a book-worm, wrapped up in metaphysics and poetry. He is a splendid fellow. I have told you that too often, Vi, for me to deny it now when he has become my successful rival and the source of sorrow to yourself: but I thought he was simply one of the men whom his own sex always admire, but women seldom or never." "I do not believe that Jaquelina admires him," cried Violet. "She is attracted by his wealth and position." Nothing that Walter could say could change her opinion. She adhered to it tenaciously. Walter was deeply sorry for her. Her jealous anger and her wild grief distressed him exceedingly. "Violet, think no more of it," he would say. "Valchester is going away to-morrow. I will never invite him to Laurel Hill again, and when he is out of sight you will forget him."