There was something so peculiar in the mother’s gaze into Violet’s face as they exchanged their morning greetings, it was so unwontedly keen and searching, half sad and anxious too, that the young girl asked in surprise, “What is it, mamma?”

“My darling, you are very sweet, very precious to your mother’s heart!” Elsie said with an earnest, tender kiss; then turned quickly away to hide the tell-tale moisture in her eyes.

Capt.  Raymond was not long in finding or making his opportunity.

It was the day before Christmas, and Rosie and Walter made frequent allusion to the exchange of gifts in which they expected to share that evening.  They were chatting with the captain about it, in the parlor, soon after breakfast; talking of his children also; asking if he thought they had received his presents by this time, and that they would have a tree.

Violet was sitting near, helping Rosie to dress some dolls for the little cousins at the Laurels.  Presently, one being quite ready, Rosie must run and show it to mamma, and Walter went with her.

The door had scarcely closed on them, leaving Violet and the captain sole occupants of the room, when he rose from his chair and, moving with some care and difficulty, took another close at her side.

“Are you not disobeying orders, sir, and in some danger of suffering for it?” she asked, looking at him with a mischievous smile.

“No; I have the doctor’s permission to try the ankle a little to-day,” he answered.  Then, with a slightly embarrassed air, “Miss Travilla,” he said, “I should like to—­would you accept a Christmas gift from me?”

“You are very kind, sir,” she said, blushing vividly, “but I think I must decline.  Mamma highly disapproves of young girls accepting presents from their gentlemen friends.”

“But I have consulted her and your grandfather in regard to this, and obtained their permission to offer it and ask for a return in kind.  Will you accept my hand (the heart you have already won) and give me yours in exchange?  Ah, I fear that you must think my presumption very great!  I know I am asking what a king might covet.  I know that you, in your peerless beauty—­so fair, so sweet, so good, so talented, so admired and sought after—­are worthy of a throne, and I have not even wealth to offer you—­nothing, in fact, but the love of a man whose honor is unstained, and who would cherish you as the apple of his eye.  Ah, dearest girl, I have no words to express the strength and power of the passionate affection with which you have inspired me!”

All this and much more in the same strain was poured out so rapidly and ardently that Violet seemed overwhelmed by the torrent of words that had come rushing upon her so unexpectedly and without any warning.

A deep blush overspread the fair face and neck, while her work fell from her hand and her eyes sought the floor.

When at length he paused for a reply, she started up, saying confusedly, in low, tremulous tones, “I—­I am far from meriting the praises you have heaped upon me, and I am very young and foolish—­not fit for—­for so noble and good a man—­so worthy to be highly honored.  And I—­oh, how could I leave my dear, widowed mother!” Then, as approaching footsteps were heard in the hall without, she turned and fled from the room.