know that he is here?" Lady Baldock asked her daughter.

"Not yet, mamma."

"Oh dear, oh dear! I suppose she ought to see him. She has given him
so much encouragement!"

"I suppose she will do as she pleases, mamma."

"Augusta, how can you talk in that way? Am I to have no control in my
own house?" It was, however, soon apparent to her that in this matter
she was to have no control.

"Lord Chiltern is down-stairs," said Violet, coming into the room
abruptly.

"So Augusta tells me. Sit down, my dear."

"I cannot sit down, aunt,--not just now. I have sent down to say that
I would be with him in a minute. He is the most impatient soul alive,
and I must not keep him waiting."

"And you mean to see him?"

"Certainly I shall see him," said Violet, as she left the room.

"I wonder that any woman should ever take upon herself the charge of
a niece!" said Lady Baldock to her daughter in a despondent tone, as
she held up her hands in dismay. In the meantime, Violet had gone
down-stairs with a quick step, and had then boldly entered the room
in which her lover was waiting to receive her.

"I have to thank you for coming to me, Violet," said Lord Chiltern.
There was still in his face something of savagery,--an expression
partly of anger and partly of resolution to tame the thing with which
he was angry. Violet did not regard the anger half so keenly as she
did that resolution of taming. An angry lord, she thought, she could
endure, but she could not bear the idea of being tamed by any one.

"Why should I not come?" she said. "Of course I came when I was told
that you were here. I do not think that there need be a quarrel
between us, because we have changed our minds."

"Such changes make quarrels," said he.

"It shall not do so with me, unless you choose that it shall," said
Violet. "Why should we be enemies,--we who have known each other
since we were children? My dearest friends are your father and your
sister. Why should we be enemies?"

"I have come to ask you whether you think that I have ill-used you?"

"Ill-used me! Certainly not. Has any one told you that I have accused
you?"

"No one has told me so."

"Then why do you ask me?"

"Because I would not have you think so,--if I could help it. I did
not intend to be rough with you. When you told me that my life was
disreputable--"

"Oh, Oswald, do not let us go back to that. What good will it do?"

"But you said so."

"I think not."

"I believe t