"Never sought him!" said the youth. "No
—not since you met this other man. But before
then, how did you behave? Did you speak to
him—walk with him? Did you ride his horses?
Did you encourage him in a way that, even if you
never spoke a single word, was intelligible?"

"Why do you speak to me in this way?" she
said, rising up in growing excitement. "Let
me go to my room," said Violet. "I have no one
to help me—no one to pity me here—and—"

The anxious mother, more observant than the
others, saw hysterical signs, and interposed.

"There! we shall say no more about it.
Hush, dears! We shall not see him again for a
long time, and be gradually rid of him. Go and
lie down, dear; you look heated, and we will talk
no more about it."

"But she must promise!" said her brother,
who was as excited as she was. "She must
promise before she goes."

Her face glowed, and she fell again into her
supplicating manner. It was as though she
were helpless among them all, and begging pity.
"I can't. Indeed I can't!" she said. Then she
suddenly burst out into floods of hysterical tears.
"This is very cruel of you! What have I done?
How can you go on so to me? But I am stronger
and wiser than you think, even if you all join
against me."

It was clear she was of an hysterical
temperament. Her mother came over, in alarm,
to soothe her. Violet sobbed upon the sofa.
The sister and brother looked on from a
distance, moodily, yet a little disturbed. Louis
then broke out impatiently: "Such childishness!
Such folly! It was Violet all over! He
could not contain himself to see a brave noble
honest fellow, who could make her happy, treated
in this way." But this was all apologetic, for
the discussion was virtually at an end, and she
presently rose, and, with a start, fled away to her
room. The others looked at each other with
doubt and alarm. The mother, in a few moments,
stole away softly after her; the son, however,
paced backwards and forwards—as he had been
doing for some time. She was the excitable
one of the house, and had to be humoured and
petted. Now they became overwhelmed with
confusion, and looked at each other guiltily. The
son was troubled: she was, in fact, loved by them
all, and was their human toy. These chidings
were all for "her own good;" so, at least, they
always apologised to their own hearts; but when
she showed signs of this sort of distress, she had
them at her mercy, and did what she pleased.

In a few seconds her sister had flown up-stairs
after her, had found her on the bed with her
face pressed against a very wet pillow, and in an
instant was kissing her almost with violence.
The other did not push her away, but only
sobbed bitterly.

"Hush, hush!" said Pauline, gently; "you are
not to go on this way—you will get ill again.
There, we won't worry you any more. We didn't
mean it, indeed we did not. We were only sorry
for him, you know. But we won't talk of it."

The brother, a little repentant also, had
stolen up, and was listening. Presently he was
heard tapping. The younger girl was quite
softened at these advances; she was even
forward, in faintly owning that she was wrong,
that she did not mean anything, and that she had
headaches. In short, there were mutual concessions,
and it was all "made up."

A few minutes later, Hanbury came in, joyous
and rubbing his hands together. He was very
happy. He knew that now the clouds had passed
over. The sad impediment was now happily
transported away. His own fame had been
cleared, and he was almost boisterous.

All the family came down to him. Violet bathed
her eyes, and, possibly a little ashamed of her
late outburst, came with smiles, and even affected
good humour. There was an effort in all the
members of the family, as if they were anxious
to get rid of the recollection—all, too, with this
odd result, that Mr. Hanbury went away that
night late, singing softly to himself in placid contentment,
convinced that he never had been so
firmly established in the affections of her he loved.

CHAPTER XIV. NEW ACQUAINTANCES.

WHEN Fermor had just done a very light
breakfast, which he took in a sort of "gleaning"
fashion, his man came in to say there was a
gentleman below who wished to see him.

"Who is he, and what is his business?" said
Fermor, with the polite haughtiness he always
adopted towards servants.

"Doctor Carlay, sir, he calls himself, and I
think he's from next door."

"I won't see him, I can't see him," said Fermor,
pettishly, and dropping the autocrat manner
of a sudden. "How I am persecuted!" His
tone was as of one who could have wept over
himself. "I want no doctors, I have one of my
own; send him away, please."

"Please, sir, I don't think he's come about
that—I think it's about the dog."

"What a persecution!" said Fermor, again
about to weep over himself. "How can I help
it? He's to be sent away. There, make him go.
How I am worried!"

Three firm steady knocks were heard at the
door, which was then opened gently, and a man's
figure stood in the entrance. The servant went
over to prevent his entrance, but he kept his
hand on the handle of the door, and bowed.

He was a very singular-looking person,
more than six feet high, and so hard in texture,
rough in corners and projections, and
generally impenetrable, that he suggested the idea
of being cast-iron all over. He was stiff and unbending
as that metal, and, where he had any
hair, it was all roughened into a sort of grey wiry
grizzle, that looked like deep rust upon the surface
of the iron. The same rust also seemed to
have spread generally over all his clothes.

Fermor looked at him with astonishment. But