The next day an aunt of Violet's arrived from a distant town. She was a sister of John's wife and a wife herself, very young and very fair, and with a wonderful likeness to the poor dead mother. Her husband, who was many years older than herself, was amongst the militia, and had not yet been called out; and at the cry from John's broken heart she came at once, leaving her own little ones behind her, to remain a few days with Violet, until the bitterness of the parting was over.  
On this day the little girl had made no effort to leave her bed; all the long morning she had remained with her head buried in the pillows, and with the sheet drawn over her head, deaf to all comfort or words of sympathy. For who could comfort her when the appalling fact remained unchanged that her father was going to leave her, to go to the war, and she would be left alone?
 
[Pg 88]
 
In vain Fritz had stood by her bed and called to her. He had brought her a box of the most delicious sweetmeats, a farewell present from the confectioner; for poor Madame Bellard, like all the rest of the French residents in Edelsheim, had had to break up her home since the war was declared, and prepare to leave Germany at once; and now, as her shop was being closed, the children of the neighbourhood were profiting by her good-nature. To Violet she had sent a special gift of great beauty—a box of frosted silver, and all within were sweetmeats of various colours, pale pink and green and white, which shone glitteringly, as if they had been sprinkled over with diamond dust.
 
But no words of Fritz, nor descriptions of the treasure he held in his hand, could induce Violet to look up. Her head was buried in her pillows, and no sound but smothered sobbings reached his ears. Once a little thin hand was stretched out for a moment through the sheets, and grasped his gratefully, and there was an effort to say something, but Fritz did not understand it; and having left the sweetmeat-box on the table beside her bed, he moved away dejectedly, followed by Ella, who, in endeavouring to walk out on her tip-toes, had nearly fallen down on her face in the doorway.
 
Once in the afternoon Violet started up, and [Pg 89]lifting herself painfully from the pillows, flung the clothes from off her face. She had heard a step on the stairs, and now she heard her father's voice calling to her. He was standing in the doorway as she looked up, and all the bright colour rushed to her pale face, and an exclamation of admiration and surprise burst quite unconsciously from her lips.
 
"Father, is it thou? Oh, how splendid!"
 
And splendid he did look this afternoon in his new uniform—a giant in height, in breadth, in strength, with a fair open face, which could look stern enough at times, but now there was no sternness about it, only a searching eagerness to see if he might win one smile from his darling in the bed yonder.
 
John had to take his helmet off to enter at the doorway. And now, as he stood by his little girl's bed, turning himself round with an assumed pride for her admiration, he looked, as he was, one of the very flower of the German army, ready to die for his king and fatherland; with a heart of steel to face the foe, and a heart of wax to be moulded by those tiny burning fingers in the bed, into whatever shape or form she chose.
 
"Has the king seen thee, father?" she asked with a sob and a smile.
 
"No, my child."
 
[Pg 90]
 
"Ah, he will be delighted. Thou art the finest soldier I ever saw."
 
"Thou thinkest so, my treasure?"
 
"Yes, yes; the best soldier in all the army"—she stretched out her arms lovingly, yearningly—"and the best, the very best, the dearest father in all the world."
 
John put down his helmet on the bed; his spurs clattered, his sword clanked, as he stooped over it; but she heard nothing—only the whisper in her ear: "Violet, my heart's treasure, how can I go away and leave thee?"
 
Later on in the evening, when he had gone out to make some final arrangements, and to buy some last comforts for his little girl, and she had relapsed into her former state of speechless grief, there came a tap at the door of her room, and a voice, which seemed to thrill through every fibre of her frame, cried softly,—
 
"Is Violet awake? May Aunt Lizzie come in?"
 
Violet once more flung down the clothes and made a violent effort to rise up quickly. Her cheeks flamed to a carmine red, her eyes glowed in the twilight, and there was something in their expression which made her aunt pause on the threshold and place her hand suddenly upon her heart.
 
[Pg 91]
 
"Poor little girlie! all alone?" she said, in the same sweet, low voice. "Aunt Lizzie has come at a good time to sit and comfort thee."
 
Violet had not seen her Aunt Lizzie for two long years; but now, at this crisis of her young life, when her heart was hungering for a face which she could never see again, and her spirit was crying out for her lost mother to comfort her, Aunt Lizzie had come in at the door, with the same gentle voice, the same sweet blue eyes and waving golden hair, and had laid just such a soft cheek against her own. All Violet's reserve gave way at once, and she turned with a sudden movement of overpowering relief, and flung her arms around Aunt Lizzie's neck.
 
"Aunt Lizzie! Aunt Lizzie! dost thou know, hast thou heard?—my father—;" here she turned her head in upon her aunt's breast; she could not finish the sentence—only a storm of sobs completed it.
 
"Yes, yes; I know it all. Thy father has to go away to the war. It is terrible. I was thinking of thee all the way in the train, and of all the other poor little children in Edelsheim who must say 'Good-bye' to-morrow to their fathers."
 
"But, Aunt Lizzie, Violet will be so lonely, so quite alone."
 
"Yes; thy father is so wonderfully good, and so[Pg 92] kind, thou wilt miss him more than most children: I know that well."
 
"There will be no one to sit with Violet all day, no one to kiss Violet at night, no one to hear Violet say her prayers, no one to talk about mother—only Kate, and Kate never knows what Violet says."
 
"Ah, well, Aunt Lizzie must think of some one to come and stay with Violet. Our little darling must not be left alone. We will talk to father this evening. And now Violet must dry her eyes. Aunt Lizzie has seen so many tears to-day that she feels quite sad; and, besides, when father comes home we must not weep."
 
"Where did Aunt Lizzie see so many tears?" asked Violet, still sobbing.
 
"Oh, so many!—such red eyes and blistered faces!—at the railway station. It was at first almost impossible for Aunt Lizzie to find a seat. Only the colonel interfered, and said they must make a place for her. So many wives with babies in their arms, sobbing and stretching out their hands; and quite old women from the country, and little girls about thy size."
 
"Violet cannot go down to the station and see her father off to the war, can she, Aunt Lizzie?"
 
"No, no; it would only make father sad, and it would tire thee."
 
[Pg 93]
 
"Were there any poor little hunchbacks at the station at Edelsheim?"
 
"What?" cried Aunt Lizzie, with almost a start of horror. "Sweetest treasure, thou must not say such things. Thou art our own sweet Violet—a little sick girlie that every one loves, and God most of all. Is it not so, my loved one?"
 
"Some hunchbacks have wings," said Violet, with a sudden gasp and a swift upward glance at her aunt's face. "God gives them wings."
 
"Yes, dearest child; and some day he will give thee wings too, and then Violet will fly away and be at rest: she will be so happy up there with mother; and she will have no more pain in her poor back, and she will never cry any more, nor have tears in her eyes."
 
"Yes," said Violet, with a sigh and a long, fluttering sob, "no more tears. The poor little hunchback in the fairy tale never cried once, not once, after God gave her wings. I read that in the book, underneath the picture, and I know it is true, although Fritz will not believe it, for I found the words in mother's Bible."
 
"Yes, yes, it is quite true," said Aunt Lizzie softly: "there will be no more sorrow nor trouble of any kind in heaven—nothing to make us cry—no more fighting, no more wars."
 
"No more soldiers, and having to say 'Good-bye,'"[Pg 94] added Violet sobbing. "Aunt Lizzie, Aunt Lizzie, Violet cannot say good-bye to father."
 
"Ah, darling, it is hard, but thou must try to say it;" and Aunt Lizzie pressed the little head close to her breast. "Father is a soldier, and Violet must seek to be a soldier too. Thou wilt be brave, sweetest child, for his sake, wilt thou not? Father's heart is breaking at having to say farewell to his little girl, and yet thou seest, dearest one, how he strives for thy sake to be cheerful."
 
"I know a text about soldiers, Aunt Lizzie," said Violet almost in a whisper.
 
"What is it, my little girlie?"
 
"'Fight the good fight;' but, Aunt Lizzie, Violet is too sick to fight, and her back aches so."
 
"Violet is one of Christ's own little soldiers, and when she is very tired she must just lay her head on his breast, and he will fight for her all her battles, whatever they may be."
 
"Yes; that is like mother's hymn that we used to say always at night, 'How sweet to rest on Jesus' breast.' And then when mother used to lie down beside Violet on the bed, and put her arms so closely around her, Violet used to say, 'How sweet to rest on mother's breast;' and there was no harm, was there, Aunt Lizzie?"
 
[Pg 95]
 
"None, none," replied the young mother with an effort to keep back her own tears. "Now lay thy head softly down on Aunt Lizzie's breast, and she will sing thee to sleep."
 
"Dost thou know what Kate said to Violet once?" asked the little girl, a smile spreading over all her face.
 
"No, my child; what was it?"
 
"She said Violet would soon sleep on mother's breast, and then Violet would have no more headaches. Is not that lovely, Aunt Lizzie?"
 
"Lovely," she answered almost in a whisper.
 
While they were talking thus, John came in. At first his face was somewhat white and stern. He seemed afraid to trust himself to glance towards the bed. When at last he did look across to the corner where Aunt Lizzie, who had taken off her hat and shawl, was sitting on the bed beside Violet, his face suddenly changed; a light, a look came into it, a sudden flush passed over his handsome face, and he stretched out his hand with a hasty movement and a quick outburst of thanks.
 
"Lizzie, thou best of sisters! so thou hast come. I scarcely dared to hope it. It has been too good of thee to leave thy home; and of Henry, too, to spare thee." He kissed her affectionately, and sat down on[Pg 96] the edge of the bed, where Violet lay, partially supported by her aunt's arm.
 
"............