r. Fotheringham?'

Violet, though much confused, could not help having a sort of
satisfaction in seeing that neither could Theodora defend herself from
blushes, nor so preserve her equanimity as always to know what she was
saying, though she made heroic efforts, and those ignorant of the state
of affairs might not, perhaps, detect her embarrassment. If there had
been affection, surely this calmness must have given way!

One day Theodora was in a shop, and Violet waiting for her when Mr.
Fotheringham passed, and instantly coming to the carriage door, shook
hands warmly, seemed rejoiced at the meeting, spoke of his last letter
from John in high approval of Mr. Fanshawe, and told her that in two
days' time he was going to take a walking tour in Ireland. At that
instant the signal was made for taking up Miss Martindale, and with
a hasty farewell he disappeared, as Violet thought, unseen. On coming
home, Theodora went at once up-stairs; Violet some little time after
chanced to go to her room to ask her a question on her way to dress,
found her knock unanswered, but heard sounds which caused her gently to
open the door.

Theodora was kneeling by the bed; her face buried in her hands, her neck
crimson, sobbing and weeping in such violent grief as Violet had never
witnessed. She stood terrified, unnoticed, hardly able to bear not
to offer comfort; but she understood that nature too well not to be
convinced that no offence would be so great as to break into her grief
and to intrude upon what she chose to hide.

Violet, therefore, retreated, hoping that now there might be an
opening for sympathy, some depression that would allow her to show her
fellow-feeling; but no: when they met again Theodora was as cheerful
and disengaged as ever, and she could almost have persuaded herself that
these tears had been a dream.

Perhaps they so appeared to Theodora. She had been surprised into them,
and was angry at having been overcome--she who cared so little; but she
had woman's feelings, though she had proved to be unfit for the dominion
of man, and was henceforth ready to stand alone, and use her strength
for the benefit of the weak. She would be the maiden aunt, the treasure
of the family, and Arthur's house should be the centre of her usefulness
and attachments.

Therefore, so far from struggling against Violet, she delighted in the
care of one so tender and caressing; looked on her as the charm and
interest of her life, and rejoi