rthur's being annoyed, as she watched him
looking very pale and spiritless from fatigue, which made her perceive
that all dinner-time Matilda was overwhelming him with a torrent of
affected nonsense--or at least what Violet would have thought so in any
one but her highly-respected eldest sister; and she feared, too, that he
could not admire the girlish airs and graces which did not become that
sharpened figure and features. She had not known how much more Matilda
talked than any one else; even her father only put in a caustic remark
here and there, when Matilda WOULD know all Lord St. Erme's and Lady
Lucy's views and habits. Mrs. Moss was silenced whenever her low voice
tried to utter a sentence. Annette, quiet and gentle as ever, looked
drooping and subdued, and scarcely spoke, while the two fine blooming
girls, who seemed like new acquaintance, were still as mice in awe and
shyness. Caroline, the second sister, was married and settled in
Canada; and the three blanks that weddings had made only now impressed
themselves on her mind as a novelty.

After dinner, Violet felt as if she must rescue Arthur from Matilda at
any cost, and succeeded in setting her down to the piano; and to secure
his quiet, though feeling it a very presumptuous venture, she drew her
chair near her father, and set herself to talk to him. Mr. Moss
was quite amazed to find a woman--a daughter--capable of rational
conversation. She went on with the more spirit, from her pleasure in
seeing Arthur, instead of dozing under cover of the music, going to
sit by Mrs. Moss and talk to her, and though nothing was heard, their
countenances were proof enough of their interest--Mrs. Moss's thin
mild face quite colouring up at the unwonted attention, and her eyes
glistening. In fact they were talking about Violet, and in such a strain
that Mrs. Moss that night confided to Annette, that she should never
again believe a word against Colonel Martindale.

But if the fortnight was to be like this, how was Arthur to bear it?
Violet dreaded it for him the more because he was so very good and
forbearing, not making one remark on what she knew must have struck
him. She could almost have reproached herself with selfishness in never
having thought of his want of companionship and amusement.

The night's rest, however, made a great difference in his capacity for
entertainment, beginning from his laugh at Helen's inquiry, 'What was
the use of so many aunts?' He lay on the g