‘Yes!’ sighed Annette.
‘I don’t think you wish it much,’ said Violet, trying to get a view of her face.
‘I don’t know whether I ought to make up my mind. I am not much inclined to anything. But I dare say it would turn out well. I do like him very much. But Miss Martindale! Now, Violet, will you not tell me what you think? Take pity on me.’
‘Annette,’ said Violet, not without effort, ‘I see you have not the feeling that would make you unhappy in giving him up, so I may speak freely. I am afraid of it. I cannot be certain that he is so completely cured of his old attachment as he supposes himself to be while the anger is fresh. He is as good as possible—quite sincere, and would never willingly pain you, whatever he may feel. But his affection for Theodora was of long standing; and without any one’s fault there might be worries and vexations—’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Annette, in a voice that reassured her.
‘I think it wiser not, and perhaps more honourable to Theodora. Hitherto I have been wishing that it might yet be made up again. If you had been disposed that way, I should have been anxious,—as you seem doubtful, I fancy it would be safer—’
‘O, Violet, I am so glad! It is a great relief to me.’
‘But, you know, it is only I that say so.’
‘Better you than a hundred! My doubt was this. You know there are a great many of us, and papa wants to see us well married. He has talked more about it since you went. Now this is not romantic; but I was considering whether, for the sake of the rest, I ought not to try whether I could like him. But what you have said sets me quite at ease in refusing him.’
‘Poor Percy!’ said Violet. ‘I am afraid he will be vexed.’