le,
delicate features, and large considering eyes, than if he was a great,
plump, common-looking child. Dearest little Johnnie! And my own brother
was like him--my brother, whom my aunt as good as killed! If he had
lived, perhaps I might still have a brother to myself. He would be
twenty-eight. But I mind nothing now that dear child is here! Why,
Pauline, I sent you to Master Martindale.'

'Yes, ma'am; but Mrs. Martindale is there, and they are much obliged to
you, but want nothing more.'

Indeed Violet, who had been positively alarmed and depressed at first,
at the waste and desolate aspect of the nursery, which seemed so far
away and neglected, as almost, she thought, to account for the death of
the two little sisters, had now found Sarah beset on all sides by offers
of service from maids constantly knocking at the door, and Theodora's
own Pauline, saying she was sent by Miss Martindale.

Violet could hardly believe her ears.

'Yes,' said Sarah, 'Miss Martindale has been here herself ever so long.
A fine, well-grown lassie she is, and very like the Captain.'

'Has she been here?' said Violet. 'It is very kind of her. Did she look
at the baby?'

'She made more work with him than you do yourself. Nothing was not good
enough for him. Why, she called him the most beautifullest baby she ever
seen!'

'And that we never told you, my Johnnie,' said Violet, smiling. 'Are you
sure she was not laughing at you, baby?'

'No, no, ma'am,' said Sarah, affronted; 'it was earnest enough. She was
nigh ready to eat him up, and talked to him, and he look up quite 'cute,
as if he knew what it all meant, and was quite good with her. She was
ready to turn the house upside down when they did not answer the bell.
And how she did kiss him, to be sure! I'd half a mind to tell her of old
nurse telling you it warn't good for the child to be always kissing of
him.'

'No, no, she won't hurt him,' said Violet, in a half mournful voice.
'Let her do as she likes with him, Sarah.'

Violet could recover from the depression of that cold reception now
that she found Johnnie did not share in the dislike. 'She loves Arthur's
child,' thought she, 'though she cannot like me. I am glad Johnnie has
been in his aunt's arms!'

Violet, as she sat at the dinner-table, understood Lord Martindale's
satisfaction in hearing John talking with animation; but she wondered
at the chill of manner between her husband and his sister, and began to
perceive that i