he declared he would not tell us all he thought of her,
lest we should be disappointed.'

'Are you?' said Arthur, with a bright, confident smile.

'By no means. He had not prepared me for so much beauty, and such
peculiarly graceful movements. My drawing days are nearly past, or I
should be making a study of her.'

'That's right, mother!' cried Arthur. 'What a picture she would make.
Look at her now! The worst of it is, she has so many pretty ways, one
does not know which to catch her in!'

Perhaps Lady Martindale caught her aunt's eye, for she began to qualify
her praise. 'But, Arthur, excuse me, if I tell you all. There is nothing
amiss in her manners, but they are quite unformed, and I should dread
any contact with her family.'

'I never mean her to come near them,' said Arthur. 'Though, after all,
they are better than you suppose. She has nothing to unlearn, and will
pick up tone and ease fast enough.'

'And for education? Is she cultivated, accomplished?'

'Every man to his taste. You never could get learning to stick on me,
and I did not look for it. She knows what other folks do, and likes
nothing better than a book. She is good enough for me; and you must take
to her, mother, even if she is not quite up to your mark in the ologies.
Won't you? Indeed, she is a good little Violet!'

Arthur had never spoken so warmly to his mother, and the calm, inanimate
dignity of her face relaxed into a kind response, something was faltered
of 'every wish to show kindness;' and he had risen to lead his wife to
her side, when he perceived his aunt's bead-like eyes fixed on them,
and she called out to ask Lady Martindale if Lady Elizabeth Brandon had
returned.

The young ladies came in late; and Arthur in vain tried to win a look
from his sister, who kept eyes and tongue solely for Miss Gardner's
service.

At night, as, after a conversation with his brother, he was crossing the
gallery to his own room, he met her.

'Teaching my wife to gossip?' said he, well pleased.

'No, I have been with Jane.'

'The eternal friendship!' exclaimed he, in a changed tone.

'Good night!' and she passed on.

He stood still, then stepping after her, overtook her.

'Theodora!' he said, almost pleadingly.

'Well!'

He paused, tried to laugh, and at last said, rather awkwardly, 'I want
to know what you think of her?'

'I see she is very pretty.'

'Good night!' and his receding footsteps echoed mortification.

Theodora looked