mmer London. There was nothing
for it but to be as foolish as in old times, to lie down on the sofa and
cry herself to sleep. She was a poor creature, after all, and awoke to
weariness and headache, but to no repining; for she had attained to
a spirit of thankfulness and content. She lay dreamily, figuring
to herself Arthur enjoying himself on the moors and mountains, till
Helvellyn's own purple cap came to brighten her dreams.

CHAPTER 22

Sigh no more, lady, lady, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot on shore and one on land,
To one thing constant never.

--Percy's Reliques

'So, you say Miss Martindale has left town?'

'Yes; Violet writes me that the family passed through London, and took
her to the continent on Tuesday.'

'Then let Annette know she is to be ready to come with me to town on
Monday. We shall see if it is the young lady's doing, or whether Mrs.
Martindale intends to give herself airs with her father and sister.'

'Poor dear,' sighed the good care-worn mother, 'I do long to hear of
her; but may I not write first? I should not like to get the dear child
into trouble.'

'On no account write, or we shall have some excuse about
pre-engagements. I shall take Annette at once, and see with my own eyes.
Martindale can never have the face to hinder her from asking her own
sister to stay in the house, when once she is there.'

'I hope he is kind to her!' said Mrs. Moss. 'I long to hear whether she
is quite recovered; and she says so little of herself. She will be glad
to see her sister, and yet, one does not like to seem pushing.'

'Never you mind,' said the acute, sharp-faced attorney, putting her
aside as if she was presuming beyond her sphere; 'only you get Annette
ready. Since we found such a match for Violet, she is bound to help off
her sisters; and as to Annette, a jaunt is just what is wanting to
drive that black coat out of her head. I wish he had never come near the
place. The girl might have had the Irish captain, if she had not been
running after him and his school. Tell her to be ready on Monday.'

Meek Mrs. Moss never dared to question her husband's decision; and she
had suffered too much anxiety on her daughter's account, not to rejoice
in the prospect of a trustworthy report, for Violet's letters were
chiefly descriptions of her children.

There was much soreness in the Moss family respecting Violet, and two
opinions with regard to her;