ing about it!' cried Annette, frightened. 'It may
be only my foolish fancy--but I cannot get it out of my mind. You see
I have no one to talk over things with now you are gone. I have lost my
pair in you, so I am solitary among them, and perhaps that has made me
think of it the more.'

'Dearest! But still I think you ought to try to draw away your mind from
it.'

'You do not think I ought to try to like Mr. Fotheringham?'

'Indeed, under present circumstances, I could not wish that.'

'But do you think me very wrong for considering whether I could? I hope
not, dear Violet,' said Annette, who shared her sister's scrupulous,
self-distrustful character, and had not, like her, been taught, by stern
necessity, to judge for herself.

'No, indeed,' said Violet; 'but, since that is settled, he ought to know
it at once, and not to be kept in suspense.'

It was not until after much affectionate exhortation that Violet could
rouse her sister from talking rather piteously over the perplexity
it would have been if his case or hers had been otherwise, arguing
to excuse herself in her own eyes for the notion of the marriage for
expediency, and describing the displeasure that the knowledge of the
rejection would produce at home. It was the first time she had had to
act for herself, and either she could not resolve to begin, or liked
to feel its importance. Perhaps she was right in saying that Mr.
Fotheringham would be disappointed if he supposed her Violet's equal,
for though alike in lowliness, amiability, and good sense, she had not
the same energy and decision.

At last the letter was begun, in the style of Matilda and the "Polite
Letter Writer" combined, though the meek-spirited Annette peeped through
in the connecting links of the set phrases. Violet, who was appealed to
at every stage, would fain have substituted the simple words in which
Annette spoke her meaning; but her sister was shocked. Such ordinary
language did not befit the dignity of the occasion nor Matilda's pupil;
and Violet, as much overruled as ever by respect for her elder sisters,
thought it an admirable composition.

'May I see yours?' asked Annette, resting before making her fair copy.

'And welcome, but it is not worthy of yours.'

'My Dear Mr. Fotheringham,--I wish with all my heart it could be--I am
very sorry it must not. Pray say nothing to my father: it would only
put her to needless pain. I beg your pardon for not being able to do
anything