found out that the mother was as loveable
as the daughter, and was as much at home with them as if she had known
them for years.

The evening exceeded even Violet's anticipations, though her one former
ball had been such as could never be equalled. Lord Martindale wished
every one to know how entirely he accepted his new daughter, so he gave
his arm to her, and presented her to the principal ladies, while she
felt herself followed by her husband's encouraging and exulting eye. It
certainly was a very different thing to go into society as Miss Violet
Moss or as Mrs. Arthur Martindale, and there was a start of fear as the
thought crossed her--was her pleasure pride and vanity?

She was chiefly sorry that she could not see Miss Brandon enjoy herself:
all that could be extracted from her by the most animated appeal was
a resigned smile, and a little quizzing of some of the sillier young
ladies. She professed, however, that she had never disliked any ball so
little, since she had the pleasure of watching Mrs. Martindale, hearing
how universally she was acknowledged to be the prettiest person present,
and telling Arthur all that was said of her.

Miss Brandon and Arthur had for some years past kept at a respectful
distance, each in dread of designs of the other; but now they were fast
resuming the childish familiarity of tone of the ancient times, when
the rough but good-natured, gentlemanlike boy had been a companion much
preferred to the determined, domineering girl. They danced a quadrille,
and talked a great deal of Violet. Emma began to think much better of
his capacity.

As to Theodora, she was talking, laughing, dancing, and appearing so
full of spirits, that Violet could not help venturing a remark, that she
surely liked it better than she expected.

'Not at all,' was the answer; 'but if one is to make oneself absurd, it
is as well not to do so by halves.'

So far was she from doing so by halves, that when her mother was ready
to go home, she was engaged so many deep, that it was settled she should
be left with Arthur and Violet. She danced indefatigably till morning
shone into the room, and was handed into the carriage by a gentleman
who, it was the private opinion of her young chaperone, had, like
Arthur, fallen in love at first sight. Poor man! it was a pity he could
not know about Mr. Wingfield; or she could almost suppose that Theodora
did not care so much for Mr. Wingfield, after all.

The drive home was