on her, and soothed her almost
like Violet's mild influence, and to her great delight, she made him
quite believe in Violet's goodness, and wish to be acquainted with her.

But all the time, Lord St. Erme was treated as her acknowledged suitor.
Perhaps Mr. Martindale thought it might be better if she were safely
married; or, at any rate, only knowing her personally as a high-minded
person of much serious thought, he believed her to be conscientiously
waiting to overcome all doubts, and honoured her scruples: while it
might be, that the desire for his good opinion bound Theodora the more
to Lord St. Erme, for with all her sincerity, she could not bear the
idea of his discovering the part she was playing, at the very time she
was holding such conversations on serious subjects. The true history
of her present conduct was that she could not endure to be known as the
rejected and forsaken of Mr. Fotheringham, and thus, though outwardly
tamer, she was more melancholy at heart, fast falling into a state of
dull resignation; if such a name can be applied to mere endurance of the
consequences of her own pride and self-will.

Now came Jane Gardner's letter. Theodora read it through, then, with
calm contempt, she tore it up, lighted a taper, and burnt it to ashes.

'There, Jane!' said she, as it shrivelled, black and crackling, 'there
is all the heed I take. Violet would no more allow me to be supplanted
than Percy could be inconstant.'

Inconstant! Where was her right so to term him? Was he not released, not
merely by the cold 'Very well,' which seemed to blister her lips in the
remembrance, but by her whole subsequent course? That thought came like
the stroke of a knife, and she stood motionless and stunned. Love of
Percival Fotheringham was a part of herself! Certain from her confidence
in Violet that Jane's news was untrue, the only effect of hearing it was
to reveal to her like a flash that her whole heart was his. He had loved
her in spite of her faults. Suppose he should do so still! Her spirits
leapt up at this glimpse of forfeited unattainable joy; but she beheld a
forlorn hope. At least she would restore herself to a condition in which
she might meet him without despairing shame. The impulse was given,
and eager to obey it, while it still buoyed her above the dislike to
self-abasement, she looked round for the speediest measure, caring
little what it might be.

Her father was reading his letters in the next room, whe