“Certainly, Violet, love.  Don’t mind me.  Go.”

Violet kissed her forehead and left the room.

Cora never touched the magazines, but sat with her elbow on the stand and her forehead resting on her hand.

She sat motionless, buried in painful thought until her Uncle Fabian entered the room.

Then she looked up.

He came and sat down near her; looked at her inquiringly for a few moments; and then, as she did not break the silence, he said: 

“Well, Cora?”

“Well, Uncle Fabian?”

“What is up, my dear?”

“I would rather defer all explanations until after dinner, if you please.”

“Very well, my dear Cora.”

And indeed there was no time for further talk just then, for Violet came hurrying into the room laughing and exclaiming: 

“I am the pink of punctuality, Cora, dear.  Here I am back again in just ten minutes.”

The next moment the dinner bell rang, and they all went into the dining room.

Violet—­trained by Mrs. Chief Justice Pendletime, who was a great domestic manager—­excelled in every housekeeping department, especially, perhaps, in the culinary art; so the little dinner was an exquisite one, and thoroughly enjoyed by the master and mistress of the house, and might have been equally appreciated by their visitor if her sad thoughts had not destroyed her appetite.

After dinner, when they adjourned to the parlor, Violet said: 

“Again I must beg you to excuse me, Cora, dear, while I go up and put baby to sleep.  It is a little weakness of mine, but I always like to put her to sleep myself, though I have the most faithful of all nurses.  You will excuse me?”

“Why, of course, darling!” Corona heartily replied; and the happy little mother ran off.

“Now then, Cora, what is it?  You said you would explain after dinner.  Do so now, my dear; for if it is anything very painful I would rather not have my Wood Violet grieved by hearing it,” said Mr. Fabian, drawing his chair nearer to that of Corona.

“It is very painful, Uncle Fabian, and I also would like to shield Violet as much as possible from the grief of knowing it.  But—­is it possible that you do not know what has happened at Rockhold?” gravely inquired Corona.

“I know this much:  That the announcement of an engagement between yourself and the Englishman was premature and unauthorized; that you have finally rejected the suitor—­who has since left Rockhold—­and by so doing you have greatly enraged our Iron King.  I know no more than that, Cora.”

“What!  Has not my grandfather told you anything to day?”

“Not one word.”

“Then I must tell you.  He has cast me off forever.”

“Cora!  Cora!”

“It is true, indeed.  This morning he ordered me to quit his house; not to let him find me still there on his return; never to let him see or hear from me again unless it was with my consent to recall and marry my English suitor.”