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of her means, I shall try to forget the way she obtained them.’

      ‘I only hope, with your notions, that you will not get into a scrape yourself. I’m a little afraid of that curate.’

      ‘We both know better,’ said Theodora.

      Jane departed, and Violet felt as if she had a friend and protector the less. She was sitting forlorn in the great drawing-room, waiting for Arthur, who was trying horses; presently Theodora came in, and with something of compassion, said, ‘I hope you have an entertaining book there.’

      Oh yes, thank you, “La Vie de Philippe Auguste”. I like it very much; it is as amusing as “Philip Augustus” itself.’

      ‘James’s novel, you mean?’

      ‘Have you read it?’

      ‘His novels are exactly alike,’ said Theodora, leaving the room, but checked by the thought that it would be merciful to take her into her room. ‘No, nonsense,’ said second thoughts; ‘I shall have nothing but chatter ever after, if I establish her coming to me when Arthur is out; and if this cottage scheme comes to pass, she will be marching up whenever she has nothing better to do. Give an inch, and she will take an ell.’

      She was interrupted by a diffident, hesitating call, and, looking back, as she was mounting the stairs, beheld Violet, who changed the appellation into ‘Miss Martindale.’

      ‘Well!’ said she, feeling as if her citadel were in jeopardy.

      ‘Would you—would you be so very kind as to lend me a French dictionary?’

      ‘Certainly; I’ll give you one in a moment,’ said Theodora; with so little encouragement as would have deterred a person bent on gaining the entree. Violet stood meekly waiting till she brought the book, and received it with gratitude disproportionate to the favour conferred.

      CHAPTER 5

         Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,

         And I must know it, else he loves me not.

                         —King Henry IV

      Miss Gardner’s departure threw the rest of the party more together, and Theodora did not hold herself as much aloof as before. Indeed she perceived that there were occasions when Arthur seemed to be returning to his preference for her. She had more conversation, and it often fell on subjects of which the bride had no knowledge, while the sister was happy in resuming old habits. Sometimes Violet was entertained; but one day when they were riding, the talk was going on eagerly on some subject of which she knew nothing, while they rode faster than she liked, and she fancied she was insecure in her saddle. Twice she timidly called Arthur; but he was too much absorbed to attend to her, without a degree of scream, which she did not feel would be justified. Each moment she grew more alarmed and miserable, and though at last, when he perceived that she wanted him, he was off his horse in a moment and set all to rights, she completely forgot her distress,—the charm had been broken, she was no longer his first thought.

      The sensation of loneliness often returned during the next few weeks; there was no real neglect, and she would not so have felt it if she had not depended on him alone, and so long enjoyed his exclusive attention. His fondness and petting were the same, but she perceived that he found in his sister a companionship of which she did not feel capable. But to Theodora herself, whenever she succeeded in engrossing Arthur, it seemed a victory of sisterly affection and sense over beauty and frivolity.

      Arthur was anxious to know the family politics, and resumed the habit of depending on his sister for gathering intelligence from Mrs. Nesbit. On her he bestowed his complaints that his father would not see things as he wished, and with her talked over his projects. In truth, he could not bear to disclose to his wife the footing on which he stood,—looking on her as a mere child, sure to be satisfied, and not requiring to be consulted.

      Theodora gave him tidings of the proposal that he should settle in the village, and finding him undecided, threw all her weight into the opposite scale. She sincerely believed she was consulting his happiness and the harmony of the family by speaking of the irksomeness of living there with nothing to do, and by assisting him in calculating how large an income would be necessary to enable him to keep hunters, go from home, &c., without which he declared it would be intolerable, and as there was little probability of his father allowing him so much, continuing in his profession was the only alternative.

      Violet saw them in frequent consultation, and once John said something to her of his hopes of seeing her at Brogden; then, finding her in ignorance, drew back, but not till he had said enough to make her restless at hearing no more. She would, of course, have preferred living in the country; but when she figured to herself Arthur always with Theodora, and herself shut up in the little parlour she had seen in the rain, she grew extremely disconsolate.

      One morning, unable to read or sit quiet under these anticipations, she went out to dispel them by a turn among the flowers, and a conversation with the peacock. At the corner of the lawn, she heard Arthur’s voice—‘Exactly so; two thousand is the very least. Ha, Violet!’ as he and Theodora emerged from a shady alley.

      ‘Oh, I did not mean to interrupt you,’ said Violet, confused; ‘I only came out for some fresh air.’

      ‘Unbonneted, too, do you want to get roasted brown?’ said Arthur.

      ‘I never am burnt,’ said Violet; ‘but I will not be in your way, I’ll go.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ said he, drawing her arm into his. ‘Come in good time,’ and he yawned, tired of the discussion. ‘Ha, Mr. Peacock, are you there?’

      ‘He always follows me,’ said Violet. ‘Miss Piper showed me where his food is kept, and I can almost get him to eat out of my hand.’

      Theodora walked off, thinking there was an end of her brother’s sense, and Violet looked after her rather sadly, thinking, while exhibiting to Arthur her friendship with the peacock, ‘he consults her, he only plays with me. Perhaps it is all I am good for; but I wish we were at Winchester.’

      As Theodora went up-stairs, she saw her eldest brother standing at the south window of the gallery. He called to her, saying, ‘Here’s a pretty picture, Theodora.’

      In front of the sparkling crystal arches of the fountain stood Violet, bending forward, and holding out her hand full of grain to invite the beautiful bird, which now advanced, now withdrew its rich blue neck, as in condescension, then raised its crested head in sudden alarm, its train sweeping the ground in royal splendour. Arthur, no unpicturesque figure in his loose brown coat, stood by, leaning against the stand of one of the vases of plants, whose rich wreaths of brightly coloured blossoms hung down, making a setting for the group; and while Violet by her blandishments invited the peacock to approach, he now and then, with smiling slyness, made thrusts at it with her parasol, or excited Skylark to approach.

      ‘A pretty scene, is it not?’ said John.

      ‘Like a Sevres china cup,’ Theodora could not help saying.

      ‘Fountain and peacock, and parasol for shepherd’s crook, forming a French Arcadia,’ said John, smiling. ‘I suppose it would hardly make a picture. It is too bright.’

      Theodora only answered by a sigh, and was turning away, when John added, ‘I am glad she has him at last, I was afraid she had a long solitary morning while you were out with him. I saw you walking up and down so long.’

      ‘He was talking over his plans,’ said Theodora, with an assumption of sullen dignity.

      ‘I have been wishing to speak to you about that very thing,’ said John. ‘I think you may be in danger of putting yourself between him and his wife.’

      It was a new thing to her to hear that this was a danger, but, in an offended manner, she replied, ‘I can hardly be accused of that. He ceases all rational talk about his most important concerns to go to child’s play with her.’

      ‘But why keep her out of the rational talk?’

      ‘That is his concern. He knows what she is capable

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