or!' said Theodora. The visit was
very short; Emma hardly spoke or raised her eyes, and Theodora hoped
that some of her timidity arose from repentance for her false judgment
of Violet. To Theodora, she said--'You shall see Theresa's explanation,'
and Theodora deserved credit for not saying it would be a curiosity.

Lady Elizabeth did as she had not done since Theodora was a little
child; she put her arm round her neck and kissed her affectionately,
murmuring, 'Thank you, my dear.'

This little scene seemed to brace Theodora for the trial of the evening.
Percy had offered to sit up that night with Arthur, and she had to
receive him, and wait with him in the drawing-room till he should be
summoned. It was a hard thing to see him so distant and reserved, and
the mere awkwardness was unpleasant enough. She could devise nothing to
say that did not touch on old times, and he sat engrossed with a book
the reviewal of which was to be his night's employment.

CHAPTER 13

Should this new-blossomed hope be coldly nipped,
Then were I desolate indeed.

--Philip van Artevelde--H. TAYLOR

The night was apt to be the worst time with Arthur; and Violet
generally found him in the morning in a state of feverish discomfort
and despondency that was not easily soothed. Anxious to know how he had
fared with his new attendant, she came in as early as possible, and was
rejoiced to find that he had passed an unusually comfortable night, had
been interested and cheered by Percy's conversation, and had slept some
hours.

Percy's occupation, in the meantime, was shown by some sheets of
manuscript on the table near the fire.

'I see you have not been losing time,' said Violet.

'I fear--I fear I have,' he answered, as rather nervously he began to
gather up some abortive commencements and throw them into the fire.

'Take care, that is mine,' exclaimed she, seeing the words 'Mrs.
Martindale,' and thinking he had seized upon a letter which he had
written to her from Worthbourne on Arthur's business. She held out
her hand for it, and he yielded it, but the next moment she saw it was
freshly written; before she could speak she heard the door closed, and
Arthur sleepily muttered, 'Gone already.' Dreading some new branch of
the Boulogne affair, she sat down, and with a beating heart read by the
firelight:--

'I can bear it no longer! Long ago I committed one great folly, and
should have been guilty of a greater, if yo