‘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 heart leapt into her mouth at her sister’s exclamation on seeing the letter, and her cheeks glowed when the flush darted into Annette’s.
She glanced in a sort of fright over the letter, then looked for help to Violet, and held it to her. ‘Oh, Violet! do you know?’
‘Yes, I have a note myself. My darling Annette!’
Annette threw herself down by her side, and sat on the floor, studying her face while she read the note, which thus commenced:—
‘My Dear Miss Moss,—You will say that our acquaintance is too short to warrant my thus addressing you; but your sister knows me as well as most people; and in knowing your sister, and seeing your resemblance to her, I know you. If AM=VM, and VM=Wordsworth’s “spirit yet a woman too,” then AM=the same.’
From this curious opening he proceeded to a more ordinary and very earnest entreaty for her consent to his applying to her father.
‘Well, Violet!’