to keep her family at a distance. There was no checking
or silencing this elder brother; she could only feel humiliated by
each proof of his vulgarity of mind, and blame herself, by turns, for
churlishness to him, and for permitting conversation Arthur would so
much dislike.

Why would not Arthur come and put a stop to it! It was not the first
time she had waited dinner for him in vain, and though she tried to make
Albert think she liked it, she knew she was a very bad dissembler.

When she at length ordered in dinner, the conversation changed to
Wrangerton doings, the Christmas gaieties, jokes about her sisters and
their imputed admirers, and a Miss Louisa Davies--a new-comer, about
whom Albert seemed to wish to be laughed at himself. But poor Violet
had no spirits even to perceive this,--she only thought of home and the
familiar scenes recalled by each name. What a gulf between her and them!
In what free, careless happiness they lived! What had her father done
in thrusting her into a position for which she was unfit,--into a family
who did not want her, and upon one to whom she was only a burthen! At
home they thought her happy and fortunate! They should never guess at
her wretchedness.

But when the time for Albert's departure came, Violet forgot his
inconvenient questions, and would have given the world to keep him.
He was her own brother--a part of home; he loved her--she had felt
inhospitable to him, and perhaps she should never see him again.

When he recurred to her pale looks and languid manner, and expressed
concern, it was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears, and
telling all her griefs; and she could not control the rapid agitated
tones that belied her repeated assurances that nothing was amiss, and
that he must not give a bad account of her and alarm her mother.

She could hardly let him go; and when he bade her goodbye, there was
a moment's intense desire to be going with him, from this lonely room,
home to her mother and Annette, instantly followed by a horror at such a
wish having occurred, and then came the sobs and tears. She dreaded that
Arthur might be displeased at the visit; but he came home full of
good humour, and on hearing of it, only hoped she had good news from
Wrangerton, and said he was glad he had been out of the way, so that she
had been able to have her brother all to herself.

Her fears of the effect of Albert's account of her were better founded;
for two mornings af