'Mr. Martindale,' and that gentleman unexpectedly
found himself in the presence of a young girl, who rose in such
confusion that he could not look at her as he shook her by the hand,
saying, 'Is Arthur near home?'

'Yes--no--yes; at least, he'll come soon,' was the reply, as if she
hardly knew what her words were.

'Were you going out?' he asked, seeing a bonnet on the sofa.

'No, thank you,--at least I mean, I'm just come in. He went to speak to
some one, and I came to finish my letter. He'll soon come,' said she,
with the rapid ill-assured manner of a school-girl receiving her mamma's
visitors.

'Don't let me interrupt you,' said he, taking up a book.

'O no, no, thank you,' cried she, in a tremor lest she should have been
uncivil. 'I didn't mean--I've plenty of time. 'Tis only to my home, and
they have had one by the early post.'

He smiled, saying, 'You are a good correspondent.'

'Oh! I must write. Annette and I were never apart before.'

'Your sister?'

'Yes, only a year older. We always did everything together.'

He ventured to look up, and saw a bright dew on a soft, shady pair of
dark eyes, a sweet quivering smile on a very pretty mouth, and a glow
of pure bright deep pink on a most delicately fair skin, contrasted with
braids of dark brown hair. She was rather above the ordinary height,
slender, and graceful, and the childish beauty of the form or face and
features surprised him; but to his mind the chief grace was the shy,
sweet tenderness, happy and bright, but tremulous with the recent pain
of the parting from home. With a kindly impulse, he said, 'You must tell
me your name, Arthur has not mentioned it.'

'Violet;' and as he did not appear at once to catch its unusual sound,
she repeated, 'Violet Helen; we most of us have strange names.'

'Violet Helen,' he repeated, with an intonation as if struck, not
unpleasingly, by the second name. 'Well, that is the case in our family.
My sister has an uncommon name.'

'Theodora,' said Violet, pausing, as if too timid to inquire further.

'Have you only this one sister?' he said.

'Six, and one brother,' said she, in a tone of exulting fondness. A
short silence, and then the joyful exclamation, 'There he is!' and she
sprang to the door, leaving it open, as her fresh young voice announced,
full of gratulation, 'Here's your brother.'

'Guileless and unconscious of evil, poor child!' thought the brother;
'but I wonder how Arthur likes the news.'

A