"It is not true. You are blinded by prejudice."
"I want to save you from yourself, if I can."
"You are too late to save me, as you call it. Captain Winstanley has touched my heart by his patient devotion, I have not been so easily won as you seem to imagine. I have refused him three times. He knows that I had made up my mind never to marry again. Nothing was farther from my thoughts than a second marriage. I liked him as a companion and friend. That he knew. But I never intended that he should be more to me than a friend. He knew that. His patience has conquered me. Such devotion as he has given me has not often been offered to a woman. I do not think any woman living could resist it. He is all that is good and noble, and I am assured, Violet, that as a second father----"
Vixen interrupted her with a cry of horror.
"For God's sake, mamma, do not utter the word 'father' in conjunction with his name. He may become your husband--I have no power to prevent that evil--but he shall never call himself my father."
"What happiness can there be for any of us, Violet, when you start with such prejudices?" whimpered Mrs. Tempest.
"I do not expect there will be much," said Vixen. "Good-night, mamma."
"You are very unkind. You won't even stop to hear how it came about--how Conrad persuaded me to forego my determination."
"No, mamma. I don't want to hear the details. The fact is enough for me. If it would be any use for me to go down upon my knees and entreat you to give up this man, I would gladly do it; but I fear it would be no use."
"It would not. Violet," answered the widow, with modest resoluteness. "I have given Conrad my word. I cannot withdraw it."
"Then I have nothing more to say," replied Vixen, with her hand upon the door, "except good-night."
"Excuse me, mamma; I am not in a kissing humour."
Mrs. Tempest sat by the fading fire, and cried herself into a gentle slumber. It was very hard. She had longed to pour the story of this second courtship--its thrilling, unexpected joys, its wondrous surprises--into a sympathetic ear. And Violet, the natural recipient of these gentle confidences, had treated her so cruelly.
She felt herself sorely ill-used; and then came soothing thoughts about her _trousseau_, her wedding-dress, the dress in which she should start for her wedding-tour. All things would of course be chastened and subdued. No woman can be a bride twice in her life; but Mrs. Tempest meant that the _trousseau_ should, in its way, be perfect. There should be no rush or excitement in the preparation; nothing should be scamped or hurried. Calmness, deliberation, and a faultless taste should pervade all things.