gave herself wholly to the enjoyment of the hour.

Bernard, on his part, could not fail to be struck by the preference
manifested in his regard; he, too, was consequently in high spirits.
No better companion--apart from his personal attraction for her--could
have been allotted to him for such an occasion. Violet's sunny
presence, her clever criticisms of the acting and singing--which he had
learned of old to expect--promised for him a thoroughly enjoyable
evening. His heart took courage; was it possible that this charming
girl really preferred him--a man who had to make his way in the world,
and work hard to provide a home for her such as befitted her hopes and
ambitions--to this rich man's only son, who had it in his power to give
her at once wealth, position, and admiration?

The first act was over. They both had been charmed with what they had
seen and heard, and it was pleasurable to compare impressions and to
anticipate further gratifying experiences. The theater was warm, and
Violet unwound from her neck a lace scarf which she had been wearing.
Pinned to the bosom of her pretty mauve dress was a tiny spray of dull
green leaves.

"What have you there?" he asked all unthinkingly.

But before she could answer he knew, and a wave of mingled remorse,
shame, and self-condemnation swept over his soul.

"What is it? Why, shamrock, of course!"

"Shamrock!" was all he could falter lamely in reply.