CHAPTER XVI.
"Here love his golden shafts employs, here lights His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings." -- _Rowly_.
It was Saturday evening.

Edward Travilla, travelling leisurely through France, had stopped in a village not many miles from Paris, to spend the Sabbath.
Having taken his supper and afterward a stroll through the village, he retired to his room to read and answer a budget of letters just received from America.
The first he opened was from his mother.

It told of Violet's approaching marriage and urged his immediate return that he might be present at the ceremony.
"We are all longing to see you," she wrote, "your mother more, I believe, than any one else.

If you have not had enough of Europe yet, my dear boy, you can go back again soon, if you wish, perhaps taking some of us with you.

And Vi will be sorely disappointed if you are not present on the occasion so important to her." "I must certainly go," he mused, laying down the letter.