that I shall think you've
no confidence in my driving."

She pulled Titmouse together, and coaxed him into an unobjectionable
trot; a trot which travelled over the ground very fast, without giving
the occupants of the carriage the uncomfortable sensation of sitting
behind a pony intent on getting to the sharp edge of the horizon and
throwing himself over.

They were going up a long hill. Halfway up they came to the gate of the
kennels. Violet looked at it with a curious half-reluctant glance that
expressed the keenest pain.

"Poor papa," she sighed. "He never seemed happier than when he used to
take me to see the hounds."

"Mr. Vawdrey is to have them next year," said Mrs. Scobel. "That seems
right and proper. He will be the biggest man in this part of the
country when the Ashbourne and Briarwood estates are united. And the
Duke cannot live very long--a man who gives his mind to eating and
drinking, and is laid up with the gout twice a year."

"Do you know when they are to be married?" asked Vixen, with an
unconcerned air.

"At the end of this year, I am told. Lady Jane died last November. They
would hardly have the wedding before a twelvemonth was over. Have you
seen much of Mr. Vawdrey since he came back?"

"I believe I have seen him three times: once at Lady Southminster's
ball; once when he came to call upon mamma; once at kettledrum at
Ellangowan, where he was in attendance upon Lady Mabel. He looked
rather like a little dog at the end of a string; he had just that
meekly-obedient look, combined with an expression of not wanting to be
there, which you see in a dog. If I were engaged, I would not take my
_fiancee_ to kettledrums."

"Ah, Violet, when are you going to be engaged?" cried Mrs. Scobel, in a
burst of playfulness. "Where is the man worthy of you?"

"Nowhere; unless Heaven would make me such a man as my father."

"You and Mr. Vawdrey were such friends when you were girl and boy. I
used sometimes to fancy that childish friendship of yours would lead to
a lasting attachment."

"Did you? That was a great mistake. I am not half good enough for Mr.
Vawdrey. I was well enough for a playfellow, but he wants something
much nearer perfection in a wife."

"But your tastes are so similar."

"The very reason we should not care for each other."

"'In joining contrasts lieth love's delight.' That's what a poet has
said, yet I can't quite believe that, Violet."

"But you see the event proves the poet'