to grapple with her fixed determination, and had
gained an absolute conquest. 'Tyrant!' thought Theodora, 'my own brother
would have left me alone, but she has made him let her interfere.
She means to govern us all, and the show of right she had here has
overthrown me for once; but it shall not happen again.'

At this juncture Theodora discovered, from the sounds in the other room,
how much Violet had suffered from her effort, and her compassion was
instantly excited. 'I must go and nurse her. She meant to do right, and
I honour the real goodness. I am no petted child, to be cross because I
have lost a pleasure.'

So she took exemplary care of Violet, read aloud, warded off noises,
bribed the brass band at the other side of the square, went up to
see why Johnnie was crying, carried up her luncheon, waited on her
assiduously, and succeeded so well, that by the time the carriage came
round, the head was in a condition to be mended by fresh air.

Mere driving out was one of Theodora's aversions. If she did not ride,
she had district visiting and schooling; but to-day she went with
Violet, because she thought her unfit to be tired by Matilda's
commission. It proved no sinecure. The west-end workshops had not the
right article; and, after trying them, Theodora pronounced that Violet
must drive about in the hot streets no longer. One turn in the park, and
she would set her down, and go herself into the city, if necessary, to
match the pattern.

And this from Theodora, who detested fancy work, despised what she
called 'dabblers in silk and wool,' and hated the sight of a Berlin
shop!

Violet would not have allowed it; but Theodora threw her determination
into the scale, resolved to make herself feel generous and forgiving,
and not above taking any trouble to save Violet. So off she set, and
was gone so long that Violet had a long rest, and came down-stairs, much
revived, to welcome her brother.

Albert arrived alone. Uncle Christopher was engaged, and had charged him
with his excuses, for which Violet was sorry, as he was an unpretending,
sensible man, to whom she had trusted for keeping her brother in order;
but Albert was of a different opinion. 'No harm,' he said. 'It was very
good-natured of Martindale, but he is a queer old chap, who might not go
down so well in high life,' and he surveyed his own elegant toilette.

'We get on very well,' said Violet, quietly.

'Besides,' added Albert, attempting bashfulness, 'I