shown him
all the children and I was not there!'

'Never mind. They will show off much better with you, you jealous woman.
What does John think to hear you scolding?'

'Has he seen all the children?' said Lady Martindale, taking up the
note. 'Oh! what is Mr. Fotheringham doing with Helen and Annie? It is
very dangerous!'

And Lady Martindale hastened to watch over the little girls, who, of
course, were anything but grateful for her care, while Violet was asking
John about his voyage, and inquiring after the interests he had left in
Barbuda.

The first sight of her was a shock. The fragile roses that had dwelt
on his imagination had faded away, and she was now, indeed, a beautiful
woman,--but not the creature of smiles and tears whom he remembered.
The pensive expression, the stamp of anxiety, and the traces of
long-continued over-exertion, were visible enough to prove to him that
his fears had been fulfilled, and that she had suffered too deeply ever
to return to what she had once been.

Yet never had John so enjoyed an arrival, nor felt so thoroughly at
home, as when his father had joined them, full of quiet and heartfelt
gladness. Stiffness and formality seemed to have vanished with the state
rooms; and there was no longer the circle on company terms, for Lady
Martindale herself was almost easy, and Theodora's words, though few,
were devoid of the sullen dignity of old times. Violet's timidity, too,
was gone, and the agitated wistful glances she used to steal towards
her husband, had now become looks of perfect, confiding, yet fostering
affection. John saw her appealed to, consulted, and put forward as
important to each and all of the family party, as if every one of them
depended on her as he had been wont to do, while she still looked as
retiring as ever, and taken up by watching that the children behaved
well.

The occupation of the evening was the looking over plans for the new
house. Lord Martindale had them all ready, and John soon perceived that
his father's wishes were that he should prefer those which most nearly
reproduced the original building, pulled down to please Mrs. Nesbit.
Lady Martindale had surprised them by making from memory a beautiful
sketch of the former house; and her husband, to whom each line produced
a fresh hoard of reminiscences, was almost disappointed that John's
recollection did not go back far enough to recognize the likeness,
though he was obliged to confess that not a wall