"You shall not! I should die with mortification and disappointment,"
cried Mrs. Mencke, wringing her hands in distress. Then bridling again,
she went on, in an inflexible tone: "I will give you just one week to
reconsider your folly; I will intimate to Lord Cameron that you are a
little shy of the subject--that it will be just as well for him not to
speak for perhaps a couple of weeks; but--hear me, Violet--if you refuse
to come to my terms at the end of that time, I will take you to France
and shut you up in a convent, where you shall stay until you will
solemnly promise me that you will give up your miserable Yankee lover."
She turned and abruptly left the room without giving Violet a chance to
reply.
Violet stood still a moment, looking wretched enough to break one's
heart; then throwing herself upon her bed, she gave way to a passion of
tears and sobbing.
"Oh, Wallace, where are you?" she moaned, "why don't you write to me? I
feel as if I was being led into a trap, and"--with a sudden light
seeming to burst upon her--"I believe they have been intercepting our
letters, for I know that you would be faithful to me.
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