"Mr. Hanbury? He has gone away."

"He went away, miss, but he's come back.
Business, he says. He has been hanging about.
I saw him myself only yesterday."

The child Violet became grave at this news.
She listened, first with curiosity, then with hope,
then with confidence, finally with devotion.
Here was a reasonable chance. She caught at
it. She began to think herself a mere infant,
whose own folly was the cause of all.

"Now, miss," said the godmother, "there's
another thing. You should have the two
gentlemen together here of a night; just a nice little
party of a dozen to look on; for it's the being
done before people that makes all the effect. No
gentleman, miss, likes to see another gentleman
put up before him, where there's people by. As
sure as I am standing here, miss, if you only get
your mamma to have a few people in to tea, and
have the two gentlemen together, and be a little
partial to Mr. Hanbury, giving him his tea first,
or sitting with him in a corner, or even," added
Jane, with a little hesitation, "putting a flower
in his button-hole—as sure as you do this,
everything will be well in the morning."

So, when her dressing was over, she had been
changed into a little conspirator; for from the
straightforward Pauline—but who, indeed, was
conspiring in her own way—it was thought best
to conceal the whole.

CHAPTER XXXII. VIOLET'S PLOT.

WHEN Violet had come down, Pauline was
astonished to see that Violet's eyes were as
glittering as before, and she went about with
a nervous vivacity. The look of hopelessness
was gone.

Very soon this restlessness had worked itself to
a point. "Dear Pauline," she said, as if asking
a favour, "I am thinking of going out for a
walk to the library (my head is so hot), and of
taking Jane."

"To be sure, darling," said her sister,
delighted that she was taking interest in such a
thing as a library. "The very thing; and get
yourself a nice amusing book." She assumed
—this delicate sister—that Violet would prefer
going without her, for they could not avoid
coming to that one subject, and, therefore, she
did not propose herself as a companion. But
this was really the first step in Violet's little
conspiracy. She had a curious and irresistible
instinct that she would meet with some one of
the characters with whom her little plot was to
deal. And this is often a very sure and faithful
instinct. Jane, who always associated every
progress outside the house indistinctly with Mr.
Bates, attended her with alacrity.

The librarian talked professionally, and was
glad of the opportunity. "There's a book,"
he said, "I am keeping for Major Carter,
The Virgins of Mayfair; they say it is by Mrs.
Mackenzie Tollemache. He is to call for it
himself at one o'clock. The major knows the
world so well," added the librarian, with a smile.

But her instinct was not to fail her, for
presently she saw John Hanbury, with a heavy
gloom upon his face, smoking a cigar dismally,
lounging past with heavy steps. He saw her
in a second, and his face became a conflagration.
Now, Violet felt, was the moment to get out
her heavy cloak and dark lantern, if ever she was
to be a conspirator. Hanbury had passed
irresolutely, and then, turning, saw Violet's soft
face looking out at him with encouragement and
sympathy. He came back as if he had been
called. Violet welcomed him with a warmth
almost extravagant. Jane was looking on from
the inner shop with approval. So Violet had
made her first step in the character of a
conspirator.

Hanbury was confounded at his reception.
Strange thoughts came tumbling tumultuously
through his brain, wild dreams for the future
rose in his head. Could it be that she had at
last seen that other in his true colours?

"Shall I take this?" said the library
messenger, now going out and pointing to the
Virgins of Mayfair, who were on the ground,
bound together with strong twine. "No, no,"
said the librarian; "I see the major crossing."

Instantly Violet had become almost
coquettish, and spoke to Hanbury familiarly,
almost as if he had never been away.

Major Carter was looking in at the window at
the title-pages of the new books.

"Indeed," faltered Hanbury, "you are most
kind; only too good; but I thought—"

Now entered Major Carter, fresh from his
window studies. He was astonished and
delighted to meet Miss Violet. Little did he
know the pleasure that was in store for him
when he crossed over. Could he help her to
choose a book? "You have kept that new
thing for me, Mr.—; all thanks. This is,"
to Violet, "one of Mrs. Tollemache's, whom
we all know, so you can imagine why I was
dying to see it."

In the presence of this skilful player Violet
felt her histrionic power a little chilled, but she
thought of what was before her, and set herself
to work with wonderful purpose and resolution.
"No," she said; "Mr. Hanbury has always
helped me. He will choose me something, for I
believe he knows my taste." Poor Violet! This
was spoken awkwardly enough, but it imposed
on the two gentlemen. "I must go back now,"
added she, getting even bolder in her little
strategy. "I am going to ask Mr. Hanbury to
see me home. Jane has business—marketing,
and what not."

Hanbury, scarcely knowing whether he was
living or breathing, glowed a delighted consent,
and this wonderful Violet, whom some fairy had
metamorphosed into a perfect little intrigante,
hurried into the back portion of the shop, and
whispered her maid that she must walk after
Major Carter and watch did he go near Brown's
terrace.

Hanbury was to know strange fluctuations in
his treatment, for he had scarcely walked a
hundred yards in this new tumult of happiness,
when Violet apparently began to weary of his
society. The worn lines began to show in her