Walter Earle looked at his sister in surprise. He had left her rather unwell and complaining of a headache. Even now her eyes were dull and heavy, and her cheeks were flushed a feverish crimson.

"Violet, I would have waited for you if I had known you would come," he said.

"I preferred to come alone," she replied, a little shortly.

Then she went to Jaquelina and held out her hands.

"How do you do, Lina?" she said. "You must allow me to congratulate you on your brilliant success."

The words were calm and conventional; there was no heart in them. Jaquelina felt it vaguely; but she laid her hands in Violet's, kindly, and would have kissed her, only Miss Earle did not offer her lips.

Then Violet looked around at her brother with a charming smile.

"I came alone that I might have a quiet chat with our old friend," she said, "and I dare say you have finished your call; so you may just take yourself off, Walter."

Walter looked uneasy, but her careless gaiety disarmed his vague dread. He went up to Jaquelina and held out his hand.

"I must give way to Violet this time," he said, "but I will call again to-morrow and continue our interrupted conversation, if you will permit me."

Jaquelina turned courteously to her guest, who had thrown herself wearily into a cushioned chair.

"I hope your mamma is well, Miss Earle," she said, gently, thinking of the faded little lady who had always been so kind.

Violet looked surprised and pained.

"Did not Walter tell you?" she cried. "Oh, Lina, mamma is dead!"

"Dead!" cried Jaquelina, and the quick tears sprang into her eyes. "I am sorry. No one had told me of it. How long is it, Violet?"

"Almost three years now," answered Violet, sadly: "She died the winter you went away. I—I do not like to recall it. I was away at the time, visiting the Valchesters in Richmond. It was very, very sudden. She had disease of the heart."

"I am so sorry," Jaquelina repeated, sorrowfully. "I loved her dearly. She was always kind to me."

"Yes, mamma loved you dearly," said Violet, gravely; "yet you disappointed her dearest hope, Lina."

"Her dearest hope!" cried Jaquelina. "I do not understand you, Violet."

"She wished above everything, for you to have become Walter's wife," exclaimed Violet.

The beautiful singer colored deeply, but she did not reply.

"We all wished it," continued Violet. "It would have pleased me very much. I cannot tell you what a disappointment it was to us all when you chose Valchester—a disappointment and a surprise as well. The match seemed so unsuitable."

Jaquelina lifted her dark eyes and regarded her gravely.

"Why unsuitable?" she asked.

"Oh, I could hardly explain it," answered Violet, vaguely, "but it struck us all that way. Ronald Valchester was so very peculiar. You must have thought so yourself after you learned his strange views of marriage and divorce. Did you not, dear?"

Jaquelina sat silent, her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

"Ronald is so very, very proud," went on Violet, after a moment. "He was too proud to marry a woman who had been married to Gerald Huntington; so he invented that excuse to break with you."

"Miss Earle, I believe your views do injustice to Mr. Valchester," Jaquelina answered, with grave, sad dignity. "I am willing to admit that his views are peculiar, but I am quite, quite sure that he only acted in accordance with his honest convictions of duty."

An irrepressible sneer of scorn rose to Violet's lips.

"You must remember I have known Ronald Valchester longer than you have," she said.

"You have known him longer, but I cannot think you understand him any better than I do," Jaquelina answered with gentle sadness.

Violet bit her lip at the quiet rejoinder, but still she persevered.

"Let me give you another instance of his peculiarity," she said. "Are you aware that he entertains a most unwarrantable and ridiculous prejudice against a public life for a woman—such a life as you lead, for instance? Will you discredit this assertion also, Lina?"

"No, for I have long been aware of the fact," she replied with perfect calmness.

"Ah, then, he was frank enough to tell you so yesterday," cried Violet, with unmistakable triumph and delight.

"Oh, no! I knew his opinion years and years ago," the singer replied, simply.

"And you actually defied his opinion—you were careless of what he would wish!" exclaimed Violet Earle, surprised and incredulous.

There was a moment's silence. The white hands that were clasped together in her lap were lifted to hide her face; then she dropped them again, and answered, with quivering lips:

"No, Miss Earle, do not say that. I was never either careless or defiant of Ronald Valchester's opinion. I loved him too well always—always—to do him that despite. But the old life was unendurable. It was madness to remember all I had lost. I threw myself feverishly into a public career because it promised—forgetfulness."

"And have you found it?" Violet asked her, quickly.

"No."

The simple word dropped mournfully from the quivering lips.

Violet looked searchingly at the sad young face that looked so marble-white with the dark fringes of the long, curling lashes resting against the cheeks. A mental vision of that face three years ago came over her. She remembered it sun-tanned, rose-flushed, happy. She remembered the faded print dress, the shabby boots, the worn poetry volume. In the place of that simple girl here was a beautiful, sad-eyed woman, clothed with purple and fine linen—a woman who but a little while ago had told Walter Earle that life had given her fame, wealth, admiration—everything except happiness.

Violet studied the beautiful face curiously a moment, then inquired, abruptly:

"Lina, did you know when you came here that Ronald Valchester was the author of the opera you have brought out with such signal success?"

"No, I did not know it until yesterday," she replied.

"Not until Ronald called upon you?" inquired Violet.

"Not until then," was the answer.

Then Violet said, with flushing cheeks and restless eyes:

"Tell me, Lina, if you had known it would you have come?"

"No, I would not have come," Jaquelina replied, firmly.

"But since you have come," said Violet, with a look of relief, "what do you intend to do about it?"

The singer looked up with a surprised face. Violet looked down uneasily before that wondering gaze.

"Miss Earle, what is there that I can do?" she inquired, in a clear, distinct voice.

"You could go away," Violet replied.

"I intend to do so the very day that my engagement is ended," Jaquelina answered. "It would be impossible to do so before. I am under the heaviest bonds to the manager to fulfill my contract. To evade it I should have to forfeit the greater part of my fortune."

"You would be willing to do that to insure Mr. Valchester's happiness—would you not?" asked Violet, quickly.

"I would do more than that to secure Ronald's happiness," Jaquelina answered, "I would give my life."

"Do you love him so well, then?" Violet asked, with actual pain upon her face.

"Yes," was the quiet reply. "I love him well enough to make any sacrifice for him if it could but secure his happiness. Can you tell me how to do so, Miss Earle?"

"Yes," said Violet. "Obtain a divorce from Gerald Huntington and marry Walter."

"Marry Walter?" Jaquelina echoed faintly. "What happiness could that give to Ronald?"

"It would leave him free to marry elsewhere. Now he has a foolish, Quixotic notion that honor binds him to remain single for your sake."

"And he would be glad to be free from that shadowy tie?" asked the prima donna, with white, pain-drawn lips.

"Yes," Violet answered, recklessly.

"Whom would he marry?" asked Jaquelina.

There was a moment's silence. The dark eyes and the blue ones looked straight into each other. In the first moments of that interview Jaquelina had read the secret of the other. She was not surprised when Violet answered desperately:

"I would try to win him for myself, then."

"You love him?" said Jaquelina, in a tone of the gentlest pity.

Violet lay back in the great, velvet arm-chair, her face as pale as death, her white hand pressed to her side to still its heavy beatings. She answered, gaspingly:

"Yes, I love him—I have always loved him—before you ever saw him. If I do not win him I shall die!"

Then the white lids closed and she lay unconscious before the eyes of her dreaded rival. Jaquelina bent over her and chafed the nerveless hands in her own with tenderest pity.

"Poor Violet," she murmured, "I never dreamed of this, yet I have been her unconscious rival for years. Must I give him up to her? Alas! he is not mine to give."

It was several minutes before Violet revived. She looked up into the face of her rival and whispered fearfully.

"It is my heart, Lina. I cannot bear any great excitement. I have inherited my mother's disease."

The look of grief and pity that came over Jaquelina's sensitive features disarmed all Violet's passionate jealousy and resentment for a moment. A blush of shame colored her pale cheeks, and she cried out with a sudden, remorseful impulse:

"Oh! Lina, do not look at me so kindly—you would not if you knew!"

Touched by an impulse of pity, Jaquelina bent and kissed the white brow with its soft waves of golden hair.

"I know what you mean, dear," she said. "You have been angry with me because Ronald loved me. You could not help it, dear. I am sorry, but I am not angry. You cannot be very envious of me. His love has not brought me much happiness."

It was an anguished plaint from the young heart that had suffered for years in brave silence. Violet looked at her in wonder.

"Oh, Lina," she cried, "how have you borne your sorrow all these years?"

"Violet, I could not tell you," she answered. "Sometimes I wonder at myself when I look back through the long years and remember how hard it was to bear. I think it was only my art that kept my heart from breaking."

"Ah! I have had nothing to divert my mind," cried Violet. "I have spent my whole time thinking of Ronald Valchester—yes, and trying to win him! You need not look so pained, Lina. I loved him before you ever saw him, and it always seemed to me that I had the prior right to him."

She paused, then as Jaquelina made no reply she went on slowly:

"After you were lost to him so strangely, I set my whole heart on winning him. I think—nay, I am almost sure that I must have succeeded in time if only—ah, if only you had not come back, Lina!"

Lina clasped her white hands tightly as she looked at the speaker.

"What difference could that make?" she asked. "You know it is impossible I should win him, Violet. By his own will we are separated forever!"

"Yes, I know that," said Violet, "but, you see, Lina, you have turned his thoughts into the past."

The words were spoken with almost a sob. As the singer made no reply she continued fretfully, and almost reproachfully:

"You have ruined everything by coming back Lina. You have spoiled Ronald's peace, and made Walter's heart ache. And you have destroyed my only hope of happiness. I know I shall surely die!"