suggest. But it is time that your friends, if
they have any influence, should interfere, and
act for you."

"But that poor Violet," said Fermor, moving
about restlessly.

"It is of her we are thinking, are we not?"
said the major. "Is it not best to spare her the
agitation, the fuss, and all the rest of it? It is
the best opportunity we could have. It is like
a providence. They have their little party (a
woman's mind is easily filled), and their music,
and our friend—er—Mr. Hanbury."

"Ah, true!" said Fermor; "quite right. I
did not think of that. I really begin to think it
would be for the best."

"Now that is sensible, and manly, and, I must
say, most considerate. If you would care for
it, we could go together. I have business that
will take me to town later, so it is only
anticipating."

"O, thanks, thanks," said Fermor; "I should
so like it." He had been rather shrinking from
the gloomy journey by himself.

"Is it settled then? Yes? Very well, I
shall be back in an hour," said Major Carter.

CHAPTER XXXV.   VIOLET'S PARTY.

FERMOR, left to himself, was in a whirl of
excitement. His heart actually beat as he thought
of the daring move he was about to make. Still
he shrank from it; it seemed ungentlemanly.
Above all, he thought of Violet's anxious face,
appealing piteously. The crust of the fashionable
world had not yet so wholly covered up his
heart. For a moment he thought there was
"no hurry," and that the most generous course
was the best. But as soon as he had taken this
view, he began—what is not uncommon with
uncertain minds—to see the merits of the opposite
course. This was quixotic; they were provident
adventurers looking after their interests,
and, above all, there was that soft Violet
skilfully furnishing herself with a useful reserve in
case of his failure. And thus he swung round
indignantly to the other view. Then, through
the clouds, broke out the soft, appealing face of
Violet, her "little ways," and before he had
done with that vision the major returned. He
found Fermor sitting in the chair by the lamp,
just as he had left him. The major had on his
travelling cap and cloak.

"All packed?" he said. "Not much time—
half-past eight."

"I don't know what to do," said Fermor,
impatiently. "It does seem so heartless, doesn't
it? Poor, poor girl; when they tell her in the
morning!"

"These feelings are most creditable," said
the major, calmly. "I quite sympathise with
them. But recollect what Sir Hopkins says, and
what occurred to me, too. You only put off,
not break off. My dear Fermor, take my word
for it, they are well used to this sort of thing—
that clever sister and that unlicked brother."

"By the way," said Fermor, starting, "there
was a letter came from him; where is it?"

He looked for it and opened it. The major
saw Fermor's brow contracting as he read; but
did not know, though he guessed, that it was to
the old tune, of which that brother was so fond.
It hoped imperiously that Fermor would
consider the matter seriously, and make up his mind;
that these delays were scarcely respectful to his
sister, and to them all; that her health was
suffering; that Young Manuel must be excused
if, once for all, he required a definite settlement
of the whole question that night. The whole
key was imperious, and, to Fermor's mind,
insolent. It was fatally mal à propos.

He tossed down the missive, and said, "My
mind is made up. I shall go at once. The
colonel is sure to give me leave."

At the moment Fermor flung down the letter,
Violet was in her room dressing for the little
festival. Her sister and the faithful maid were
assisting. The faithful maid was on her knees,
busy with the skirt. Both these assistants
seemed to know that much depended on the
work of this night. The maid having, indeed,
foretold certain success, was calm and
confident.

Violet was before the glass, flushed and
excited. She had not a particle of vanity, but she
dressed herself to-night as though she had been
another being—say a sister. She was nervously
vivacious, and talked with a little rambling. She
came down at last, and, as she entered their little
drawing-room, felt herself panting; for she knew
she was now embarked fairly in the scheme she
had undertaken, and that the time was at hand.

"You look charming," her sister said, going
up to her; "so bright and sparkling, and in
such spirits." The sister had said the same to
the maid, and the maid had agreed with the
sister.

"Do you think he will like me?" said Violet,
in a little rapture. "O, you shall see to-night
how he will behave—that is, if I have any power
with him." And her face fell a little wearily,
for her head was confused and her brain
overcharged with little speeches and little tactics,
which she had been planning all day.

"He cannot resist you, dearest," said her
sister, kissing her. "He never can."

The little rooms had been laid out artistically
with flowers and modest decorations. There
was the foreign air and the foreign touch over
all. There were only a few people to come after
all. The fact was, "as Fermor had put it, they
knew but few, and nearly all those few had left
Eastport. After many weary searches and beating
up of districts, the entertainment was to
resolve itself into such homely elements as the
representative clergyman, the representative
doctor, the representative solicitor, the
representative stray young men and old maiden ladies
of the place, shrubs never transplanted, and to
whom a little feast of this sort was as water in
sultry weather. It was now ten o'clock, and
they—and Mr. Hanbury—came with provincial
punctuality.

She was very nervous, and thought how she
would begin, or what was the first of those