p quickly,
and in a quarter of an hour everyone was gone except the Vicar and his
wife. Vixen found herself standing between Mr. and Mrs. Scobel, looking
blankly at the hearth, where an artistic group of ferns and scarlet
geraniums replaced the friendly winter fire.

"Come and spend the evening with us, dear," said Mrs. Scobel kindly;
"it will be so lonely for you here."

But Violet pleaded a headache, a plea which was confirmed by her pale
cheeks and the dark rings round her eyes.

"I shall be better at home," she said. "I'll come and see you in a day
or two, if I may."

"Come whenever you like, dear. I wish you would come and stay with us
altogether. Ignatius and I have been so pleased with your conduct
to-day; and we have felt for you deeply, knowing what a conquest you
have made over yourself."

The Reverend Ignatius murmured his acquiescence.

"Poor mamma!" sighed Violet, "I am afraid I have been very unkind."

And then she looked absently round the old familiar hall, and her eye
lighted on the Squire's favourite chair, which still stood in its place
by the hearth. Her eyes filled with sudden tears. She fancied she could
see a shadowy figure sitting there. The Squire in his red coat, his
long hunting whip across his knee, his honest loving face smiling at
her.

She squeezed Mrs. Scobel's friendly hand, bade her and the Vicar a
hurried good-bye, and ran out of the room, leaving them looking after
her pityingly.

"Poor girl," said the Vicar's wife, "how keenly she feels it!"

"Ah!" sighed the Vicar, "I have never been in favour of second
marriages. I can but think with St. Paul that the widow is happy if she
so abide."

Vixen called Argus and went up to her room, followed by that faithful
companion. When she had shut and locked the door, she flung herself on
the ground, regardless of Madame Theodore's masterpiece, and clasped
her arms round the dog's thick neck, and buried her face in his soft
hide.

"Oh, Argus, I have not a friend in the world but you!" she sobbed.

CHAPTER V.

War to the Knife.

A strange stillness came upon the Abbey House after Mrs. Tempest's
wedding. Violet received a few invitations and morning calls from
friends who pitied her solitude; but the best people were for the most
part away from home in August and Septernber; some no farther than
Bournemouth or Weymouth; others roaming the mountainous districts of
Europe in search of the picturesque or the fashionable.

Vio