g Arthur to tell her when he was going to ask any one, but he was
vexed, and said he liked to bring home a man by chance; there need be
nothing out of the common way, and a dinner for two was a dinner
for three. Poor Violet thought, 'Ah! this is not like the time at
Winchester. It is my own fault, I am not companion, enough.'

She began to grow tired of going out in the evening; late hours tried
her; she felt listless and unwell; and her finances could not support
the dress expenses, but when she tried to excuse herself, she found
Arthur determined on taking her out, though he had previously grumbled,
and declared he only went for her sake. When she looked pale and languid
he seemed annoyed, in a way that gave her the impression that he valued
nothing but her beauty. She believed he found home dull, and her not
what he expected.

The truth was, perhaps, that Violet's spirits were naturally not strong,
and she was scarcely equal to the cares that had come on her. She missed
the companionship of the large family at home; and a slight degree of
indisposition or of anxiety was sufficient to set her tormenting herself
with every imaginable fear and grief; above all, the dread that he was
not pleased with her.

She believed herself to have strictly adhered to the rule of paying
for everything at once; but she was dismayed by a shower of bills at
Christmas, for things ordered by the cook without her knowledge, several
of which she disowned altogether; and several that her memory and 'great
book' both declared she had paid; though the tradesmen and the cook,
through whom the money had been sent, stoutly denied it. She was
frightened, paid the sums, and so went the last remains of Lord
Martindale's present.

Sure that the woman was dishonest, yet not knowing how to prove it;
afraid to consult Arthur on the household concerns, that he detested;
and with a nervous dread of a disturbance, Violet made arrangements for
conveying no more payments through Mrs. Cook; and, for the rest, thought
she must go on as she could, till the time should come, when, near the
end of May, she reckoned on having her mother with her. She would repair
her mistakes, make her feel herself mistress in her own house, and help
her to all she wanted to know, without fear of Wrangerton gossip. That
hope strengthened and cheered her in all her troubles; and oh! suppose
Annette came too!

Poor Violet! the first time she referred to her mother's coming, Arth