thin texture of her small-talk with a border
of giggles, that seemed almost hysterical, found
herself, to her surprise, left on the broken rafter
of an incomplete sentence. Fermor had strode
away, clearly not thinking of her, or of what she
was saving, and was whispering to Major Carter
at the other end of the room; who, delighted
and flattered, received the communication with
a smile of surprise." Ah, you think so! What
an idea! I am really under obligations to you.
The very thing, just as we were beginning to
flag a little."

"Quite easy," said Fermor, explaining his
theory with great fluency and a professional air;
"move away these things—get those dowagers
into the corners—the young ladies to play by
turns—less formal, you see; and we can make
a beginning, say—with—with," added Fermor,
looking round the room—" ah, Miss Manuel!"

"To be sure, so we can," said Major Carter,
in a tumult of delight.

"And you can get Mr. Hanbury, and some
of those strong men," continued Fermor, "to
clear the room—a sort of fatigue party."

Miss Manuel was delighted—pleased to do
anything useful on that night. And Hanbury
called over, was presently warehousing all the
furniture of the room in corners, stowing away
heavy weights with enthusiasm, like a porter
at play. At every party there are honest
creatures like this, who revel in being made
social hodmen. The "boys" assisted with juvenile
delight, and there were marvels done in the
way of wheeling off on castors, and hemming up
one of the Miss Campbells (engrossed with Mr.
Lockit) behind an ottoman. Mr. Lockit had
helped her back off the broken plank of a
sentence where Fermor had left her, and they both
agreed that a more vain, conceited, brusque
creature never was, with "nothing in him."

When Hanbury, boisterous with his exertions,
looked round for general approbation, he saw
Fermor on the chair he had quitted for a few
seconds only, and closeted with Miss Violet
Manuel. At that distance, too, he could even
see that Fermor was speaking very fast and
earnestly, and that she was listening with an
absorbed devotion. Was this a crafty artifice
on the side of Fermor? It must be said, such
were not his usual weapons.

Hanbury plunged over in a blunt hurried way.
"They are going to have a quadrille," he said,
"and—and I am come for you—that is, if you
will dance."

Fermor looked up at him with his most
good-natured smile. "You have been doing
wonders," he said; "we have been looking at
you. Properly, Miss Violet is engaged to me, but
I think" he said, "we shan't dance at all. What
do you say? Now, you should make yourself
useful, and ask some of those people yonder."

He looked at her for an answer, but she gave
none. "Are you engaged?" he said.

'' Good gracious," said Fermor, "I have told
you. Why——" and he whispered something to
her, with a smile and a look of intelligence.
Hanbury did not mind the first, but when he
saw the second, he turned round and walked
away. Miss Manuel, who had been playing
scraps and patches of music very pleasantly, had
seen part of this little episode, and flew across
to speak to her sister. Between sisters these
expresses are common, and she whispered a
few words; but they were vehement words, full
of concentrated meaning. "So you are really
to be our orchestra," came to her ear in the
voice of Major Carter. "I don't know what to
say to you, it is so kind." And he made a
coasting voyage round the room, saying to every
one, " You see who I have got for orchestra."
"'Miss Manuel is good-natured enough to touch
my little piano."

Fermor and his companion were the only two
of the younger human family not dancing.
Every one standing up in the little hollow
square looked round at them as at something
conspicuous or marked. The orchestra
must have thus been busy herself, for she had a
sort of reputation for this kind of playing, and
her fingers used to perform whole ballets on
the keys; but now it wanted spirit, and she
was glancing uneasily over the top of the
little cottage piano.

No wonder. For all this time Fermor's
words were pouring out very fast. Violet
seemed to be feasting on them as on some
delicious fruit. There was a tender air about
her that night, her eyes had a soft shy look,
and she had a half helpless, half tender and
trusting manner, which to Fermor was
fascinating.

"If you would only confide in me, my advice
has been found useful sometimes, I should give
you the best I am capable of. Or perhaps—and
you won't be angry—I know the story, or can
guess it."

A softness, too, had come upon Fermor's
voice, and covered it like a delicate bloom. The
lustrous eyes seemed to lift themselves to meet
his, not so much languidly as reverently.

"There is pressure, persuasion, what may be
called family intimidation, put upon you," he
went on, a little excitedly. "From the best
motives, no doubt. I know what that sort of
thing means. If we put our home lives side by
side there would be a wonderful likeness. These
things repeat themselves. But I can use a firm
resistance. We men can fight, but you are
helpless—that is, if you will not let me help you."

"Oh," said she, softly, "it is so good of you.
But I cannot ask you. I ought not to speak of
these things, but some way I feel——"

"You feel," said Fermor, with his "lighter
scornful manner," as he would call it, "that I
am not exactly the person—quite so. You take
what I say for mere fashionable words, of course.
Exactly. Why not choose that rough honest
creature yonder, who is glaring at us so
savagely?"

Honest John was, indeed, looking back from
his ranks in the quadrille in sorest distress, and
then dancing desperately.

What Fermor intended when he sat down he
could not well tell himself. If any one had said