tolerated me. And how could he like two people
who are the very antipodes of each other? If he is fond of her, he must
detest me. If he respects her, he must despise me."

The thought of such treachery rankled deep in the young warm heart.
Vixen started up to her feet, and stood in the midst of the firelit
room, with clinched fists, like a young fury. The light chestnut
tresses should have been Medusa's snakes to have harmonised with that
set white face. God had given Violet Tempest a heart to feel deeply,
too deeply for perfect peace, or that angelic softness which seems to
us most worthy in woman--the power to suffer and be patient.

CHAPTER VII.

Rorie has Plans of his own.

Roderick Vawdrey's ideas of what was due to a young man who attains his
majority were in no wise satisfied by his birthday dinner-party. It had
been pleasant enough in its way, but far too much after the pattern of
all other dinner-parties to please a young man who hated all common and
hackneyed things, and all the beaten tracks of life--or who, at any
rate, fancied he did, which comes to nearly the same thing.

"Mother," he began at breakfast next morning, in his loud cheery voice,
"we must have something for the small tenants, and shopkeepers, and
cottagers."

"What do you mean, Roderick?"

"Some kind of entertainment to celebrate my majority. The people will
expect it. Last night polished off the swells very nicely. The whole
thing did you credit, mother."

"Thank you," said Lady Jane, with a slight contraction of her thin lips.

This October morning, so pleasant for Rorie, was rather a bitter day
for his mother. She had been reigning sovereign at Briarwood hitherto;
henceforth she could only live there on sufferance. The house was
Rorie's. Even the orchid-houses were his. He might take her to task if
he pleased for having spent so much money on glass.

"But I must have my humble friends round me," continued Rorie. "The
young people, too--the boys and girls. I'll tell you what, mother. We
must have a lawn meet. The hounds have never met here since my
grandfather's time--fifty years ago. The Duke's stud-groom was telling
me about it last year. He's a Hampshire man, you know, born and bred in
the Forest. We'll have a lawn meet and a hunting breakfast; and it
shall be open house for everyone--high and low, rich and poor, gentle
and simple. Don't be frightened, mother," interjected Rorie, seeing
Lady Jane's look of horror; "we won'