er Miss Martindale, or the Countess of St. Erme.

She decided that Annette ought to hear the whole, so as to act with her
eyes open. If she had been engaged, she should never have heard what
was past, but she should not encourage him while ignorant of the
circumstances, and, these known, Violet had more reliance on her
judgment than on her own. The breach of confidence being thus justified,
Violet resolved, and as they sat together late in the evening, found
an opportunity of beginning the subject. 'We used to expect a closer
connection with him, or I should never have learnt to call him Percy--'

'You told me about poor Mr. Martindale.'

'Yes, but this was to have been a live connection. He was engaged to
Theodora.'

Violet was satisfied that the responding interjection was more surprised
and curious than disappointed. She related the main features of the
story, much to Annette's indignation.

'Why, Violet, you speak as if you were fond of her!'

'That I am. If you knew how noble and how tender she can be! So generous
when most offended! Oh! no one can know her without a sort of admiring
love and pity.'

'I do not understand. To me she seems inexcusable.'

'No, no, indeed, Annette! She has had more excuse than almost any one.
It makes one grieve for her to see how the worse nature seems to have
been allowed to grow beyond her power, and how it is like something
rending her, when right and wrong struggle together for the mastery.'

So many questions ensued, that Violet found her partial disclosure had
rendered the curtain over Martindale affairs far less impenetrable; but
she had spoken no sooner than was needful, for the very next morning's
post brought an envelope, containing a letter for Miss Moss, and a few
lines addressed to herself:--

'My Dear Mrs. Martindale,--Trust me. I have discovered my error, and
have profited by my lesson. Will you give the enclosed to your sister? I
know you will act as kindly as ever by

'Yours, &c.,

'A. P. F.'

So soon! Violet had not been prepared for this. She gasped with wonder
and suspense, as she laid the letter before the place where Annette had
been sitting, and returned to her seat as a spectator, though far from
a calm one: that warmhearted note had made her wishes his earnest
partisans, and all her pulses throbbed with the desire that Annette
might decide in favour of him; but she thought it wrong to try to
influence her, and held her peace, though her hea