The other raised herself, drew a slow sigh, of
relief, then gave a child's smile.

"You terrified me," she said. "I am getting
foolish and nervous. But it is nonsense, all
nonsense. He never does anything without a
purpose, and I shouldn't be surprised," she
added, with a sudden flash of gaiety, "if he was
what he calls trying me. Ah. There it is."

Her sister was so relieved at this change from
a scene she dreaded, that she accepted the far-
fetched fancy, and with her arms about this
fluttering Violet, even fortified it. Presently the
sisters, by mutual encouragement, had worked it
into actual pleasant proof of attachment and
devotion, Violet finding in it something to
rejoice at.

The maid who—now a long time ago—had
thought Fermor "lovely," had been noting
Violet's worn face, the weary lines of pain upon
her cheeks, and the tightened look about her
forehead. She was a "smart" girl, and glowing
ribbons always were fluttering from her caps
like pennants from a mast. All through she
had taken a deep interest in the love-affair,
and knew perfectly all the ebbs and flows of
that uncertain current. For Fermor she had
the deepest admiration. Had any one introduced
the well-known Apollo Belvidere into her
associations, that famous type of plastic beauty
would have exactly satisfied her as a standard.
Yet the Hero himself, when she threw open
the door for him, hurried past her up-stairs, not
rude or blunt, but wholly unconscious of her,
and of all her ribbon-flags.

She had long guessed the state of things.
The two sisters were fond of her, and talked
with her often. She amused them with legends
of the ladies and gentlemen of her own sphere,
when she was busy with their dresses, and
Violet sat with her long hair like a nun's veil
on her head. "Jane" had sore suspicions about
this business; and was convinced that the
whole affair had been "mismanaged." Through
Fermor's esquire, Mr. Bates, with whom she
was intimate, she learnt more than they. Through
that military gentleman's gentleman the maid
knew all, and she was determined that very
morning to "speak her mind," while there was
yet time.

Violet was a little hurried and excited in her
speech. "I don't sleep," she said, nervously;
"last night, I never closed my eyes once. I don't
know what is the reason." She was now in
spasms of agitation. She got up suddenly and
went over to the bed, on which she flung
herself. The maid looked on in sore distress. Not
for many minutes could all her soothing take
effect.

Poor Violet felt she could confide in her, as
indeed she might. "O Jane, Jane, I fear—I
do so fear—that they have been changing him
to me—I know they have."

"No, no, miss," the maid said, with the smile
of superiority. "Not at all; you make too
much of it, miss, indeed you do. But," she
added, looking round mysteriously, "I know
what it is."

Violet became earnest, and looked at her
steadily. "What is it?" she said.

Jane was thinking of the tactique popular
below. "It's all wrong, miss. The thing has
been mismanaged. I've seen it all along."

Thus poor Violet catching eagerly at any
plank, and beseeching her to tell, Jane became
like an old fairy godmother, whom this young
creature had come to consult, and to get a
philtre. With great wisdom (and with some
difficulty in the choice of words, for Jane had
delicacy), the maid expounded the true secret
of success in such affairs, and the little old-
fashioned amatory cruelties which still obtained
in the servants' hall.

"It don't do," said the fairy godmother, "to
let a gentleman come too easy, or come too often.
They don't like it themselves, don't gentlemen.
There are days," added Jane, as an illustration,
"when I make believe not to see Mr. Bates, it
might be in the street, or it might be on the
road; and though I don't pretend to say that
there's anything going on there, still, miss, you
can have no manner of idea how he does take
it. You see, when they have it all their own
way, they come to take it as easy as—anything."

This seemed like truth to Violet, to whom
anything like a little salvation in this emergency
was welcome. Her eyes distended, and her
breath came and went as the fairy godmother
explained the mystery. The introduction of
Mr. Bates as an illustration to the workings
of the charm on him especially, did not import
any burlesque into the matter. She even began
to regard him with an interest which would
have amazed that simple soldier. She was told
how, on certain days, he was received with an
unbounded affection, purposely exaggerated to
lead him into some slight forwardness; which,
on the next occasion, would be seized on as an
opening for treating him with the most mortifying
and insulting neglect. A short course of
this fitful treatment was enough to "take him
down"—to reduce him to an unmanly and
grovelling degradation. From whence he would
be, as unexpectedly and unreasonably, lifted
from this level to the sunshine of unbounded
favour.

"But," said the fairy godmother, coming
more to the point, "if there was another
gentleman, miss, as could be found, and I know of
such as could be easily got, and willing, and
whose place, indeed, by rights it ought to be—
that were the way!"

Violet's eyes opened still wider. She coloured
a little, for she understood.

"The captain," said the fairy godmother,
"was a charming gentleman, so fine and so high
in his manners. But all gentlemen were the
same in that point. They required to be 'kept
up and stirred.' Now, couldn't Miss Violet just
try it a little—ever so little—and see how it
would answer? Not to be just 'quite so ready,'
but more 'stand off,' and, above all, just 'lean
a little' to that good but 'soft' gentleman, Mr.
Hanbury. Mark her words, if in a day or two
the remedy had not the most startling result."