d your chief liking is for that one?'

'It is more than liking,' said Violet; 'I could call it loving. It is
almost the same to me as Helvellyn. Annette and I went to the house for
one look more my last evening at home. I must tell her that you have
seen it!' and the springing steps grew so rapid, that her companion had
to say, 'Don't let me detain you, I am obliged to go gently up-hill.'
She checked her steps, abashed, and presently, with a shy but very
pretty action, held out her arm, saying timidly, 'Would it help you to
lean on me? I ought not to have brought you this steep way. Matilda says
I skurry like a school-girl.'

He saw it would console her to let her think herself of service and
accepted of the slender prop for the few steps that remained. He
then went up-stairs to write letters, but finding no ink, came to the
drawing-room to ask her for some. She had only her own inkstand, which
was supplying her letter to Annette, and he sat down at the opposite
side of the table to share it. Her pen went much faster than his.
'Clifton Terrace, Winchester,' and 'My dear father--I came here
yesterday, and was most agreeably surprised,' was all that he had
indited, when he paused to weigh what was his real view of the merits of
the case, and ponder whether his present feeling was sober judgment, or
the novelty of the bewitching prettiness of this innocent and gracious
creature. There he rested, musing, while from her pen flowed a
description of her walk and of Mr. Martindale's brother. 'If they are
all like him, I shall be perfectly happy,' she wrote. 'I never saw
any one so kind and considerate, and so gentle; only now and then he
frightens me, with his politeness, or perhaps polish is the right word,
it makes me feel myself rude and uncourteous and awkward. You said
nothing gave you so much the notion of high-breeding as Mr. Martindale's
ease, especially when he pretended to be rough and talk slang, it was
like playing at it. Now, his brother has the same, without the funny
roughness, but the greatest gentleness, and a good deal of quiet
sadness. I suppose it is from his health, though he is much better now:
he still coughs, and he moves slowly and leans languidly, as if he was
not strong. He is not so tall as his brother, and much slighter in make,
and fairer complexioned, with gray eyes and brown hair, and he looks
sallow and worn and thin, with such white long hands.'

Here raising her eyes to verify her descriptio