se to the castle, and--pardon me, but truth-telling seems the order
for the day--I much prefer you in your open enmity to your simulated
courtesy. We have been rude to each other for three weeks; in another
one you will be gone, so it is scarcely worth while to begin politeness
now."

"As you please," said Telfer, coldly.

He'd made great advances and concessions for him, and was far too
English when repulsed to go on making any more. But he was
astonished--extremely so--for he'd been courted and sought since he was
in jackets, and couldn't make out a young girl like the Tressillian
treating him so lightly. He walked along beside her in profound silence,
but though neither of them spoke a word, he didn't leave her side till
she was safe on the terrace at Essellau. The Major was very grave that
night at dinner, and occasionally he looked at Violet with a strange,
inquiring glance, as the young lady, in the most brilliant of spirits,
fired away French repartees with Von Edenburgh and De Tintiniac, her
face absolutely _rayonnant_ in the gleam of the wax lights. I thought
the spirits were a little too high to be real. Late at night, as he and
I and Marc were smoking on the terrace, before turning in, Telfer
constrained himself to tell us of the scene in the summer-house. He'd
abused her to us. Common honor, he said, obliged him to tell us the
truth about her.

"I am sorry," said he, slowly, between the whiffs of his meerschaum. "If
there is one thing I hate, it is injustice. I was never guilty of
misjudging anybody before in my life, that I know of; and, I give you my
word, I experienced a new sensation--I absolutely felt humbled before
that girl's great, flashing, truthful eyes, to think that I'd been
listening to report and judging from prejudice like any silly, gossiping
woman."

"It seems to have made a great impression on you, Telfer," laughed Marc.
"Has your detestation of Violet changed to something as warm, but more
gentle? Shall we have to say the love wherewith he loves her is greater
than the hate wherewith he hated her?"

"Not exactly," answered the Major, calmly, with a supercilious twist of
his moustaches. "But I like pluck wherever I see it, and she's a true
Tressillian."

IV.

IN WHICH THE MAJOR PROVOKES A QUARREL IN BEHALF OF THE FAIR TRESSILLIAN.

"Well, Telfer," said I, two mornings after, "if you want to be at the
moor by the 12th, we must start soon; this is the 6th. It will be sharp