 Section 1 of Violet Osbourne. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Monica Rolly. Violet Osbourne by Lady Emily Ponsonby. Volume 1, Chapter 1. Even at that age she ruled, a sovereign queen over her comrades, the excursion. Which of all those charming girls is your daughter, Mrs. Osbourne? In quiet a gentleman of a lady in whose house a small party was assembled. But no, do not tell me. I like to make people out for myself. Thank you, replied Mrs. Osbourne, who was a little deaf and, of all this speech, having only heard the word charming, applied it to her party. The gentleman smiled and, aware of her infirmity, raised his voice. I am trying to make out Mrs. Osbourne. It amuses me to guess people's situations from their actions, and their characters from their looks. It is Mrs. Osbourne's birthday today, is it not? Yes, Violet begins her life today. God grant, it may be a happy one. There was something touching in the warmth of this speech, contrasting as it did with the calm and inanimate repose deafness had given to Mrs. Osbourne's manner. We will, at any rate, anticipate it for her, replied her companion kindly. She's good, I am sure, and, unless for some special purpose, it is otherwise ordained, happiness comes to the good. She's good, certainly, said Mrs. Osbourne, with the same eagerness of speech. She lives only to make others happy. I have found Mrs. Osbourne, cried the gentleman a few moments afterwards. Is she not a young lady with red roses in her hair? Yes, that is Violet. How did you make her out? Because of what you told me. I saw somebody, I had remarked her for some time, thinking first of others and last of number one. I congratulate you on your daughter, Mrs. Osbourne. She is charming, beautiful, and still more good than beautiful. You are very kind to say so, said Mrs. Osbourne, much gratified. At this moment Violet rushed up to her mother. We are not going to dance, Mama. I find the lovers think their mother might not like him to dance too soon after their grandmother's death, and it would be a pity for them to have to sit down. But you will be disappointed, dear. Oh, no, Mama! It does not matter. I was thinking of what we could do. Albert wishes to act charades. I suppose, Mama, you have no objection? It was evidently Violet who made arrangements, for she hardly waited for a reply before she kissed her mother's brow, and was hurrying away when Mrs. Osbourne detained her to introduce her to Mr. Woodruff. An old friend of mine, Violet, though he has not been in England of late. Violet did not bow, but frankly gave him her hand. A charming girl, indeed, exclaimed Mr. Woodruff as she left them, for he was of that age when a little show of gratification in making his acquaintance, from the young and beautiful at least, pleases a man. I am glad you will see her act, said Mrs. Osbourne, who, by this appreciation of her daughter, was one to be confidential. Violet acts very well. So I should guess. There is life, intelligence and confidence in her face. She does not look as if she could be afraid. And she's right. Why should she? Who is that tall youth beside her? Is that Albert? Yes, he is my nephew. He is an orphan, poor boy, and his only sister, who is married, is lately gone to India. We have him constantly with us. He comes, indeed, whenever he pleases. He has a pleasant countenance, but not a great deal in it, not like Miss Violet. She has a whole history in those dark blue eyes and that brilliant smile. Your daughter's beauty would drive an Italian painter mad, Mrs. Osbourne, what a skin, and what perfect urban hair! The very tint the old painter's liked only with a touch more of gold than red. Of this rhapsody upon her daughter, Mrs. Osbourne heard little, but she saw by the direction of his eyes that he was commenting on Violet. She therefore smiled and thanked him. I am afraid," she added, that I have been rather unjustifiably praising my own child, but the truth is she's our only one and we have very few thoughts that are not connected with her. No praise so valuable are some others," said her companion kindly, for who can know a child as well? True, said Mrs. Osbourne, with a slight smile, but I believe a wise mother should leave a child's virtues to be discovered. See, they have arranged a charade. I hope Violet will act," she added, forgetting her late sage observation. We think she acts so well. Violet did not act in any of the scenes of the charade. It was well done, but to Mrs. Osbourne and her friend it was tedious, because the individual they wished to see did not appear. Did you like it, Mama? Violet inquired, rushing up to her mother when it was concluded. Yes, dear, it was very nice, but we wished, that is, I hoped, you would act. You must next time. I don't know, Mama, there are great many good actors here tonight, and I am at home, you know, perhaps by and by, but don't expect it. And again, kissing her mother's brow, an action which seems so habitual as to be unconsciously done, she hastened back to her companions. Two more charades were performed, and in the last Violet did appear, but it was in the character of a decrepit old woman, and though the acting was certainly excellent, the disguise was too complete to satisfy her mother or Mr. Woodrow. When the party, with the exception of this old friend and Albert, had dispersed, Mrs. Osbourne complained with some warmth of her disappointment. But Mama, it could not be helped, said her daughter. I was at home. You would not have had me take the best parts. Your Mama would have you please yourself, sometimes, darling, instead of always pleasing others, was her father's font observation. Miss to that papa, I please myself best in my own way. How well Margaret Lovell looked as queen, didn't she? Yes, said Albert, and he added, with a boyish wink, I know somebody who thought she did. Who! cried Violet, eagerly expecting some revelation of interest. Miss Margaret Lovell was, his reply, very dryly given. If young ladies could, but know how I see them through and through, they would either leave off deceiving or practice a little harder to learn how to deceive. Margaret Lovell does not deceive in the least, said Violet quickly, and you are unjust to say so, Albert. If she thinks she is handsome, how can she help it? She can see as well as others. Oh, very well then. I suppose I am all wrong. I thought the modest thing was for young ladies not to know they were handsome. I thought they were to hang their heads like a humble Violet, but that's evidently all trash. Come now, Violet. What do you think of yourself? Are you handsome or not? Come speak. I will have an answer. It is a very unfair question, Albert, she said angrily, and before a stranger too. But I don't mean to tell any stories about it. I don't think I am wonderfully handsome, but I know I am not ugly. Well, to be sure, the vanity of girls, and their truth, observed Mr Woodrow. Mrs Osbourne, I congratulate you on being courageous enough to tell the truth without regard to consequences. You are very kind to take it in that way, said Violet blushing. Of course, I knew to what I exposed myself. But I think a story is a story and I never mean to tell one for anything or anybody. A wise resolve, Mrs Osbourne, and a brave one, but I fear I am keeping you all up. Good night. He made some kind speeches to Mrs Osbourne and took his departure. I will walk with you," cried Albert, following him. I have a good way to go, and I like company. What a fascinating girl your cousin is, observed Mr Woodrow, with energy as they walked along. Yes, he replied carelessly, she's a very good girl, but she is terribly spoiled. That father and mother of hers let her govern the house exactly as she pleases. Perhaps because she is the fittest person to govern it, if you observe, government usually falls into the hands of the most fit. Does it? I'm not at all sure of that. Certainly neither my uncle nor aunt will ever die of overexertion of the intellectual powers, but for all that I think it's a great pity that Violet should be ruined. She will not be ruined. You may make your mind quite easy on that point. Good natures are never ruined by freedom, and no one can look in her face and fail to see that she is good. Oh, yes, she's a good girl, but she's terribly willful. But where do you live? This is my way. I'm going to Lincoln's inn. I will go a little farther with you. Are you a barrister? Not yet. I'm only studying for the bar at present. I live down there to be in the way, not being formed of early rising. Your studies are dry enough, are they not? How do you like them? Not very much, but they wish me to be a lawyer, and it's all one to me. Who are they? My uncle. Because he's a rich banker, he thinks I shall get on at the bar, though what connection the things have together has always passed my comprehension. However, as I said before, it's all one to me. I make myself agreeable to anything. But it will not be all one if you don't get on. There's a future to be considered. To tell you the truth, I don't intend to be a slave all my life. In a few years I shall marry and have done with it. And Harris, of course? Yes, of course. Your cousin is also born? Oh, dear no, no one in particular. You don't suppose Violet would ever marry me? She is one of the fastidious ones. Does not mean to marry unless she finds every perfection under the sun. I shall find her a husband one of these days, but not for three or four years. I think it's a bad plan for girls to marry too early besides, it's much better fun to have her at home. True, I suppose Miss Osbourne is so far fortunate that she need not consider fortune a necessary perfection. So far from it, that one of her great perfections is poverty, but then you know Violet has plenty of money and I must say she likes to have the upper hand. Most women do, they say in the old ballad. Then, if most like it in a degree, Violet likes it four times over that degree. I suppose you have a right to know all the family affairs, he asked suddenly. Well, said his companion smiling, I don't know that I have any right and perhaps I ought to beg your pardon for my inquisitiveness. It is a quality that is always excited when I take a fancy to a person as I did to your cousin tonight. However, you may be quite easy. All your secrets shall go back with me to India and there be buried. Thank you, not that I have said anything I would not say to their faces, but it's not pleasant to have remarks on one's relations repeated back again. I quite agree with you. And now, good night, and my best wishes regarding the Harris you mentioned. That will not be for some years to come, but I'm very much obliged to you all the same. Good night. And they went on their separate ways. A good-natured old soul with a yellow face was Albert soliloquy as he sauntered along. In love with Violet, evidently, all old men are. A well-meaning boy with an empty head was Mr. Woodrow's. He'll never do it the bar. And of volume one, chapter one, recording by Monika Rolly. Section two of Violet Osborne. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Monika Rolly. Violet Osborne by Lady Emily Ponsonby. Volume one, chapter two. A mind by nature indisposed to ought so placid, so inactive as content. The excursion. I heard you say you were going to the exhibition of the Royal Academy tomorrow afternoon, Violet, said Albert to his cousin one evening, two years after the date of the last chapter. May I go with you? Certainly. We shall like it. Shall we not, Mama? Be here at four o'clock, and we will take you. But this is a new fancy, Albert. I never knew you to care about pictures before. One need not to care about one wants to go. Everybody is going. Besides, I suppose one may sometimes fancy a new thing. People don't always run in the same track. They would be nice ignoramuses if they did. You have no reason then for wishing to go? Violet persisted looking as if she was convinced he had. None in particular. Lester went the other day and talked about the pictures, and so I thought I should like to go. Violet laughed and nodded, but Albert, not observing her, went on. He says there is a little picture there that nobody seems to notice, which is worth all the others put together. And who made Mr. Lester a supreme judge of pictures? Violet asked ironically. His own good taste, I suppose. I cannot tell why it is Violet, but you seem to have no pleasure so great as cutting up Lester. I see no fun in it at all. Mr. Lester does provoke me, I own, always forming strange opinions and setting up his opinion against the world. Lester setting himself up against the world, exclaimed Albert in surprise and indignation. What extraordinary fancies you do have. Lester, who is too shy, poor fellow, to express his opinions at all, and only neglected, because he is too humble and different to allow his merit to be seen. Mr. Lester shy and defiant. My dear Albert, I am quite tired of hearing all the strange things he says. He talks to me because I like to hear him, but he talks to very few besides because most people are too full of themselves to draw him out. He never says strange things and, if I tire you, it is my fault, not his. He never tired anybody, poor fellow, and since you are so unjust, Violet, I will never mention him, though he is my best friend any more. He spoke with so much warmth that Violet's interest was excited. Why do you say neglected, Albert? he asked. Mr. Lester is a lawyer, is he not? I suppose he will get on in his turn as others do. He is neglected because he is too shy to put himself forward. I don't suppose there is such a modest, retiring man in Europe, but it's only for a time. He's too clever to be overlooked and some day, poor fellow, he will be appreciated as he ought to be. During Albert's last two speeches a very singular change took place in Violet's mind. She had hitherto, without knowing Mr. Lester, indulged in an antipathy to him simply because her cousin appeared to look up to him. She had set him down in her vivid imagination as a young, intolerable prick and as such a proper object for her dislike and sarcasm. But there was that in her nature which ever stood up for the oppressed and stooped down to the neglected. Observers who were very desirous to discover the flaws in human virtue would have said this disposition sprang from the love of patronising and of power and, undoubtedly, this was Violet's temptation. But the fault had wound about the virtue after it had grown up. Derout was in her own generous and kindly nature. Albert's few words regarding the fortunes of his friend dispelled him from her fancy in his first prickish form and a new version of a young, retiring ingenious springing up in its place, all her sympathies became enlisted in his favour. In less than a minute the transformation from this life to interest was affected and she began to plan kindnesses to encourage modest merit. Do you think Mr. Lester would go with us to the exhibition tomorrow, Albert? She inquired after a short silence. We could take him as well as you, and it would be a means of making acquaintance. I feel sorry for him after what you have said. I am sure he would, said Albert, delighted. I think I can answer for that. He knows you all too well from my description to be shy about it, or if he is, I can soon persuade him. All he wants, poor fellow, is for people to come forward to meet him. Do you know, Violet, I have so often wished you wouldn't notice him? Then why did you never say so? she asked with quickness. Because I did not choose. He is a great deal too good to force upon anybody. If you did not like to know him, I did not wish you to know him. But I am very much obliged to you now. Mama! cried Violet, approaching her mother and kissing her, you will not mind our taking Albert's friend with us to-morrow, shall you? I have told him you will. The question was asked with Violet's accustomed, dutiful attention to her mother, but it was a mere form. Mrs. Osborne had no will but her daughters. The two years that had passed had brought its natural changes to both Violet and Albert. The manners of both had lost their first marked freshness and been toned into the softer manners of common life. With Albert, the change ended here. He was in mind still a boy, careless and wayward, yet with good dispositions and some shrewd perceptions into man and things. He had lately been called to the bar and he dawdled away a large portion of his time among lawyers and law-books, attending trials and propounding questions, snatching up with instinctive quickness many pieces of valuable information but eschewing all the profounder part of the profession on which he had entered. With Violet the changes had gone deeper. At seventeen she had been a lively, sweet-tempered, willful girl, a spoiled child, unspoiled at nineteen she was a woman with a woman's thought and feeling, lively, sweet-tempered and willful still but thinking much and questioning her thoughts. She had passed through the severe ordeal of two seasons as a reigning beauty, rich, lovely and inviting in manner, thought flattered and loved, but the spoiled beauty was like the spoiled child, unspoiled. She did not think little of herself, she knew she was very charming, thought so and rejoiced in the thought, but the knowledge exercised no influence on her mind and manners. She was as simple and honest as when a child, as careless of herself, a thoughtful for others as earnestly desirous to do what she considered right and to be all that she ought to be. If her standard was not high it was true and truth is the best of foundations. Violet expected with some interest the arrival of Albert and his friend. She was at the age when Fancy is busy and of the temperament when it is vivid and Fancy gives to the simplest events of life an importance of its own. With a disappointment therefore most disproportion to the real importance of the circumstance she saw Albert arrive alone. Well Albert and where's Mr. Lester? she said eagerly. Albert not having given to the invitation as much thought as Violet had answered indifferently. Oh! he was very sorry Violet, but he could not come. Violet coloured. Of all things I hate, she said with warmth, it is for people to break their engagements. It was no engagement, Violet. That is, it was none of his. He was very sorry and very much obliged and would have liked it, but he was particularly busy today and could not help himself. You must ask him another time. The vision of the modest youth and bashful genius faded from Violet Fancy and the intolerables prick resumed his place. I see Mr. Lester is just what I thought he was, she observed quickly, gives himself airs to make his importance felt. I am very glad he did not come, for I know I should hate him. Lester, give himself airs, poor fellow, what extraordinary fancies you do have. I say, Violet, I think you are the oddest mixture I ever knew. There is nobody more good-natured than you can be, but at the same time I know nobody so ill-natured or so easily vexed if people don't receive your kindness just as they are meant. You should learn to be more calm and not flurry about trifles. Violet's truthful conscience told her he was right. She could not bear the shadow of ingratitude and was certainly prone to expect large returns for her kindnesses. She coloured angrily, but refrained from the sharp words she would willingly have returned to this plain-spoken admonition. Without being a connoisseur, Violet was fond of painting and had an instinctive appreciation of what was good. She and her mother, the eyes of the latter instructed by her daughter, went slowly through the rooms of the exhibition, leisurely examining such good things as where to be seen. Albert lounged about by himself, discovering what was good and what was bad without one rule of art to guide him. Come here! he exclaimed suddenly, coming up to Violet in the second room. I have found the thing Leicester likes, and I want you to look at it. It's a very good thing, and you will like it too. Assuring him she should not like it, Violet followed him. The picture was caught in the catalogue, Ruth, first-born son, and the subject was treated with a grave simplicity, empathis which, while it glaringly attracted no attention, riveted attention when once it was caught. The position of Naomi bearing away the child as her own, the glad thankfulness in the eyes of the young mother, and something of awe and prophecy in those of Beau's, as they followed it, were depicted with a master's hand, yet such a master's hand seemed unconscious of the effect he produced, homely and harmonious, without effort or caprice. Violet looked and was touched. She had expected some eccentricity of genius, some strange thing which the young prick had chosen to patronise. She could not conceal her surprise. Yes, she replied in answer to Albert's inquiry. It is very pretty, but I don't understand why Mr Leicester likes it. It is not at all the sort of thing I should have expected a young man to choose. A young man, my dear Violet, has quite a good taste as a young woman, I can assure you, said Albert with dignity. I mean that I wonder at the subject, interesting him. It is also simple and all about a baby. But there may be particular thoughts about the baby, and there are. I can see that myself. The baby was something or some body, I am pretty sure, and they seem all to be thinking about it. Yes, so he was, said Violet thoughtfully, the grandfather of David, and therefore— Yes, I see what you mean. Still, I am surprised. It is not at all what I should have expected Mr Leicester to like. And I am very sorry, too," she added, laughing, because I agree with him in liking it best, and that is very disagreeable to me. Why? I don't see why, said stupid Albert, because I hate him, and I don't want to agree with people I hate. But come with us now to the miniatures. We have not much more time, and we must look at them before we go. In the miniature room another surprise awaited her, regarding the individual who seemed suddenly designed to engage her thoughts. Who is that Albert? she exclaimed, pointing to a crayon head above the rows of miniatures. I think it must be somebody, and I like it. It was the head of a man not an intellectual abstraction, not a poetical study, but a man seeming to live and breathe on the canvas. The features of the face were marked and strong, yet the expression of Contenors was very soft, and there was something in the grave sweetness of the dark eyes which arrested the spectator with a force he could not withstand. Why, it's Leicester. It must be, cried Albert, sizing the catalogue. Yes, sure enough, John Leicester Esquire. Well, this is the most extraordinary thing I ever knew. That Mr. Leicester exclaimed while it almost stupefied with her surprise. Yes, and the capital likeness, the very man. But what I can't understand is how it comes to be here. I should have thought he was the last man in the world who would have made an exhibition of himself. That is true, said a voice behind them, proceeding from a pale, clever-looking young man. But Mr. Leicester never refused as a boon to a person in distress. I asked him to sit to me, and he consented, and having succeeded beyond my hopes, he allowed me to make of my studies such use as I could. The violet was startled at this sudden explanation, but Albert, who, with the exception of this pictures appearance, was never surprised at anything, quietly replied, Thank you, that is just like him. I hope it has been of use to you. It has already, in some degree, and as, since its appearance here, it has been approved by very competent judges, I have good hope that it will be still more so. But do not let me interrupt you, and bowing the young man disappeared. We ought to be careful how we speak in a crowd, said Albert, composedly. So I have been quite wrong, said Violet. I thought Mr. Leicester was a young man. Young? Why so he is? Do you call two and thirty old? I call it a very good age, not the least bit of a boy, and there was contempt in the emphasis. But Albert, what puzzles me is this? If Mr. Leicester is, as he seems to be, such a very superior person, how does he come to be your friend? Ah, Violet, said Albert, nodding his head. You are quite in the wrong box. It is not your clever people who appreciate superior characters. They are too full of themselves to care. I may not be very clever, but I know what is worth liking better than clever ones do. I believe you mean to give me a hint? said Violet, laughing. I dare say I am a great deal too full of myself, and think myself much cleverer than I am. But if you suppose I do not appreciate superior people, you are wrong. Goodness and worth is what I look for, as a jeweler hunts for diamonds, and when I find a grain of goodness I feel as elated as the jeweler does. So now I want to make acquaintance with Mr. Leicester, and you must bring him to us." I will manage it, replied Albert, with dignity. But you must remember he is shy, and not be surprised if you find him dull at first. He will not be shy with me, no one is. So Albert, it is a subtle thing, and don't let me be disappointed. But your mamma, she suddenly exclaimed, how I have been talking and how tired of standing you must be. Not at all, dear. I like to look about me and that. Pointing to the crayon head which had occupied so much of the conversation of her companions is a very pleasing continence. Look in the catalogue and see whose picture it is. Albert, who never could become accustomed to his aunt's infirmity, stared at this request, but Violet obeyed and gave the information she desired. Volume 1 Chapter 2 Section 3 of Violet Osborne. This is a Labour Box recording. All Labour Box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LabourBox.org. Violet Osborne by Lady Emily Ponson by Volume 1 Chapter 3 It is a common tale, a tale of silent suffering, hardly clothed in bodily form, the excursion. Mr. Lester, at Violet's request, was invited to dine with Mr. Osborne a few days afterwards, having heedlessly put himself into Albert's hands for the occasion, and Albert rarely attaining to the virtue of punctuality. The company had set down to dinner before he arrived. Violet was much vexed at this contra-tomps, but punctuality was a point dear to Mr. Osborne, his time and tide. Though forced, he said, occasionally to wait for a woman, waited for no man. With gorgeal kindness, however, on Lester's entrance, he went to meet the stranger and set him, as he hoped, at ease, by directing him to a vacant seat. But the vacant seat was far from Violet, and as, except in her mind, no particular interest was felt regarding the stranger. He remained silent during the principal part of dinner. When he first appeared, observing his tall and dignified figure, and the countenance on which, though remarkably handsome, the seal of middle age was lightly set, she blushed as she thought of her destined purposes of kindly encouragement. But before dinner was over, they had been formed anew, the very same purposes, only with much more interest and much more zeal. And this, because his diffidence, even during that hour, had become apparent to her eyes when addressed by her father from a distance, which happened twice in the course of dinner. She had seen him color, as a young girl in his circumstances might have done. And though his answers were given with great composure, he sank back with an appearance of relief when allowed to relapse into obscurity again. All the guests, except Lester, were at home in the house, and when they appeared in the drawing room, disposed of themselves with easy on concern. But he was a stranger, and alone. And with the perversity common to shy strangers, he placed himself on a seat whose inaccessible position cut him off from notice. There is, in Miss Edgeworth's novel of patronage, a description of what is there called Maudvet's haunt. She says of one of her characters, he was subject to that nightmare of the soul who sits herself upon the human breast. Oppresses the heart, pauses the will, and raises specters of dismay, which the sufferer combats in vain. That cruel enchantress who hurls her spell even upon childhood, and when she makes the youth her victim, pronounces, Henceforward you shall never appear in your natural character, innocent, you shall look guilty, wise, you shall look silly. That which you wish to say, you shall not say, that which you wish to do, you shall not do. You shall appear reserved, when you are enthusiastic, insensible, when your heart sinks in melting tenderness, and so forth, and so forth. The passage speaks of an extreme case, and is highly colored, yet in its general features it as truly as forcibly describes the common trials of a shy man. John Lester was one of this unhappy race, with talents above the average, with personal advantages which alone would have brought most men into notice, and unaccountable diffidence had laid its frozen hand upon his soul. The world in general is too busy to observe those who withdraw themselves from notice, but even among those who did observe, Lester was misunderstood. He had, by the exertion of common sense and by natural strength of character, so far conquered his shyness as to subdue some of its outward signs. He had learned not to stand waving his tall body, as many shy men do, when a seed would set him at ease. He taught himself to go through the common forms of society, and to speak common forms of speech with a grave composure which concealed his inward trepidation, but the very conquest of outward weaknesses made him but the more liable to be misunderstood, and, while it displaced pity, brought criticism in its stead. He was called proud, when often he would have been thankful for a child's notice, cold and indifferent. When his heart was beating with sympathy, dull and apathetic, when, had he dared to speak, his words would have won golden opinions from men. He knew his infirmity and owned his weakness, but knowledge brought neither strength nor comfort. He felt his bonds, but could not burst them. Thus it was that in general, as Albert had said, he was neglected and overlooked. He could not put himself forward, and no kindly feeling went forward to drag him out. And thus too it was that, neglect acting and reacting upon his character, he withdrew further and further from notice into the solitude of his own soul. Whether his shyness proceeds from pride or humility is a question often asked, and since it probably proceeds from both, will be often disputed. It is a very true humility that causes a poor soul to doubt of its powers to please, that causes it, comparing itself with other more gifted beings, sadly to feel that the charm of attraction is wanting. But it is pride that makes it acquiesce in this want of attraction, and rather than seem to court a notice not freely given, to hide for ever the gifts it is conscious it does possess. The different ingredients are variously blended in different characters, and some pride prevails. In some humility, but probably both are necessary to produce shyness in any aggravated form. In Lester, the humility was very genuine, the talents that were overlooked by others. He overlooked himself, and in the power to attract, he was but too painfully conscious of a deficiency. But though thus genuinely humble, it was also true that pride was slumbering in no small proportion within. After waiting in the vain hope and expectation that he would approach her during the evening, Violet at length summoned Albert and said, I cannot bear to see Mr. Lester sit there by himself. I must go to him, or you, Albert, must bring him to me. Which shall it be? I will bring him to you, replied Albert, discreetly. It was my being so late that put him out tonight. If we had been in time he would have made acquaintance, and all would have been easy before now. It shall soon be easy, said Violet confidently. But what a strange thing it is to see such a man so shy. It surpasses my understanding. Come along, Lester, exclaimed Albert, approaching his friend. My cousin wishes to make your acquaintance, so lay aside that newspaper, and follow me. He arose at once, very thankful, in truth, for the notice that brought him out of his self-chosen, yet awkward position. There, continued Albert, pushing him with easy familiarity into a chair. Now be comfortable, do. I was telling Violet that you were very much ashamed and put out by being so late. But what can't be helped is best forgotten. It is of no importance now. It was not a very civil way on our side, I mean. A beginning and acquaintance, said Violet, laughing. But we shall be all the better friends for beginning uncivile. The ease and friendliness of her manner thawed Lester's frostbound powers, and he became himself. After a little conversation, Albert, overhearing a discussion between his uncle and another gentleman regarding a disputed will, walked off to give his attention to, and his opinion on, the subject, leaving Lester and Violet to themselves. I am so glad to have seen you. Mr. Lester, she began, with a manner that, in some, might have been over-forward, but in her was only characteristic, for you must know that you have been my enemy for some months. Also, he asked, with a smiling surprise, only from perversity, I believe, Albert chose to look up to you and to quote your opinions, and, in consequence, I pictured to myself a very disagreeable image of what his friend must be. A very different one, in short, to the reality. Alice and I are great friends. He observed, quietly, Where did you make acquaintance with Albert? She asked, suddenly. I have never heard. It was silent for a moment, then replied. Alice is so much younger than I am that there can be nothing strange in my telling you that our acquaintance arose out of a piece of advice I one night gave him, which he, instead of resenting, as many would have done at his age, accepted as it was intended. We have been great friends ever since. Great friends, I am sure, from Albert's account, but it surprises me still. In fact, I cannot understand it. You must be so different. Friendships spring much more from circumstances than rules, he said, smiling. You must have hard work if you try to account for all the fancies and intimacies of all your friends. Never so hard work as now, Violet did not say, but thought to herself, for she could see no possible ground of union between the grave, thoughtful man, and the good-natured, shallow boy. Do you go out much, Mr. Lester? She presently inquired. Never for my own pleasure, sometimes as chaperone. As chaperone? And Violet almost screamed in her surprise. Well, I daresay I look like an awkward chaperone, he observed, with a smile, and must do what falls to his lot. Nevertheless, indeed, that was not what surprised me. I am only surprised at your being so different to the fancy I had formed of Albert's friend. But who do you take under your chaperonage, my sisters, to accept of me when they can get no better? One is kind enough to say that she prefers me to others. Albert never told me you had sisters. I have five, but only three go out into the world. And what do you do as a chaperone? Violet asked, laughingly. I do the best I can, he said, with a kind of quiet humor. I lean my back against the wall when I am not wanted. I move when I am desired. Sometimes I walk down to supper and up again. And once I extricated my sister from a dilemma respecting a disagreeable partner. But this, she said, was so awkwardly done, that I have since been spared any active business. And does it bore you very much? No, indeed, I am never bored. It would amuse me beyond anything to have a girl to take care of, said Violet, laughing. I think, when I am old enough, I shall advertise myself as a chaperone. The only fear would be that I should wish too much and plan too much. Yes, that is the danger, he remarked gravely. An unoccupied observer, for I am an inactive chaperone, sees many plots passing under his eyes. Does he? she asked, eagerly. I wish I was an observer, but I am too busy myself to see much of what others do. What do you see? Some things that please me, some that I had rather not see, but I only observe. It would not do for an observer to be a reporter. I should like to meet you out in the world, said Violet, frankly. The eager speech, the implied expression of pleasure in his society, so natural to her to speak, so uncommon for his ears to hear, affected him in a way she could never have imagined possible. It gave him inwardly indeed a strange thrill of pleasure, but its outward effect was to make him nervously draw back into himself. It also caused something to slip from his hands and fall at her feet. She stooped and picked it up. She had observed that while he conversed with her, his fingers were engaged in fidgeting with a piece of paper. The result of the fidgeting, as she raised it from the ground, drew from her an exclamation of wonder. Mr. Lester, did you really make this? It was the minute form of a little monkey, pinched and twisted into the most perfect proportions. Yes, I believe I did, he replied, coloring deeply. I hope I have destroyed nothing. I really was not aware of what I was doing. Too full of curiosity and pleasure to remember how much he might dislike to be brought into notice, Violet called to her father to admire. A perfect little monkey, Mr. Osborn observed, examining the small creature through his glasses, as a naturalist examines a plant. And five minutes ago the little thing was an old letter, said Violet. I call it wonderful, Mr. Lester. Her exclamations drew the rest of the company to the spot, and, as is customary, the expressions of admiration were beyond what the occasion required, especially from the female part of the assembly. Lester looked as if he had been found guilty of some crime. For the truth was, the production of the little creature was a weakness. And he knew it. It was the effect of a nervous temperament, which laid hold on any employment which drew him from himself. Again and again he had resolved to be guilty of the weakness no more. But in vain, in shy moments no piece of paper ever came in his way, without bearing the traces of his hands, that his productions were full of genius. That other men should have used them to win attention and admiration was nothing to him. In his eyes they were memorials of his weakness, and nothing more. Put the thing down. Do, Violet, whispered Albert angrily in her ear. Can't you see how you bore him? Violet glanced her eyes towards Lester and saw it. Tea is ready, she remarked with quickness. Give me my treasure, and let us go. And taking it from some hand, she opened a drawer and tossed it in. I make tea myself in an old-fashioned way, she said to Lester as she passed, anxious to put him at ease. I hope you will have some. He followed with Albert. But it was not at Violet's tea table that he or such as he could ever shine. It was famed for its agreeableness by the habitual guests of the house. And the party from the spirit and vivacity that reigned around it was sometimes prolonged to a late hour in the evening, courted and admired by all. Violet had no shyness. And while her own liveliness and playfulness gave the spring to conversation, the kindness with which she drew others out and made much of what others said, said all at ease and made most men happy. But that which is inspiring to some is depressing to others. That which gives wings to some, even ligard tongues, lays leaden chains on those of others. Lester had rarely felt so intensely wretched, so densely dull as during this hour. He knew that Albert wished him to make the best of himself. He saw it needed no keen perception to see. That Violet was anxious to make him at home and happy. But though touched by her kindness, gratitude was powerless to untie the fetter that bound him down. He remained speechless, a burden to himself and to others. Violet was baxed, but she had never felt so great an interest in any agreeable member of society as she did now in this shy man. Her love of protecting, perhaps, came strongly into play, but it was united with interest of a totally different kind. When the party broke up, Albert lingered behind to make some arrangements with his uncle. He desired Lester to wait for him. And the latter did so, placing himself once again in the most impractical seat he could find. And this, notwithstanding an earnest desire to behave rationally and to remove the impression his silence might have caused. But Violet was not to be daunted, and, moving from one chair to another, she addressed him. I forgot to tell you, Mr. Lester, how much we liked your picture. I mean the picture in the exhibition, which Albert says is your favorite. I am glad you did, he replied, rising at once and approaching her with a look of pleasure. Then I suppose I was right in the opinion I gave, not because I admire it, for I am no judge, that is, no good judge of what is good. But you are right, because the thing is pretty and your opinion needs no confirmation. It is, at all events, pleasant to be agreed with. Sometimes, but it is also pleasant to be disagreed with. I like a good fight. Agreement is more to my taste, he said, smiling, when the world goes against me. I am apt to mistrust my strongest opinions. And yet in your profession I should have thought convincing was the greatest of pleasures. Ah, yes, convincing. I was not thinking of that. To convince is a rare pleasure and worth a good fight, certainly. And I never thought of defeat, replied Violet, laughing. It is a thing whose existence I deny. Then you are a great fool, Violet, said Albert, joining them, for once I must be defeated. Come, Lester, if you are ready, I am. I hope we shall soon have the pleasure of seeing you again, Mr. Lester, said Mr. Osborne, while Lester stood silent, feeling he ought to make some acknowledgement for the kindness which had prompted his invitation. Thank you, good night. Was, however, all he said, and they departed, I asked Mr. Lester to come again, Violet, because I saw in your face that you wished me to do so, said her father. But I confess Albert's friend appears to have but little to say for himself. He will say more when we know him better, Papa. I like him very much. Then I will like him, too, said the fond father. Outward manners are often deceiving. He may be clever enough within. Meanwhile, Albert strolled homewards with his friend. Well, Lester, he exclaimed, after waiting a very short time for an opinion to be expressed. How did you like Violet? You are too hasty, Alice, was the reply. I have not had time to think. How I do hate people who give a correct reply, said Albert. To be sure. It takes a world of thought to see whether a woman is pretty or not. Oh, as to beauty. I can answer it once. A child could see she was beautiful. And not conscious of it, is she? Know it, of course she does. But she does not seem to think about it. Not in the least. When you do like her, I think. I must give you another correct reply, he said, smiling. To tell you the truth, I admired your cousin too much to feel satisfied to say I liked her. When you asked the question, the answer does for a common, good-tempered girl. Miss Osborn is much more than that. Even now, if you repeat the question, I cannot say yes. Very well. Be as round about as ever you please. I see you like her. And I am quite satisfied. I know what she thought of you. I mean, I saw, he added, discreetly. If she thought at all, he said, with sadness, she must have wondered why so dull a soul ever burdens society with his presence. No, she did not. She is too clear-sighted for that. But, I must say, Lester, you did not do your best. You looked as if you were going to be hanged. I can excuse it when people are careless and neglectful. But, when everybody was bent on making you comfortable. Very true. He interrupted quickly. But, it is not worth discussing. Here we are at number. It is too late to ask you to come in. Good night. And, opening the door of a house in Glarges Street, Lester entered, and Albert went on his way. End of Volume 1, Chapter 3. Section 4 A Violet Osborn This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Violet Osborn by Lady Emily Ponson by Volume 1, Chapter 4. Selfishness may not come near him, nor the little throng of flitting pleasures tempt him from his path, the prelude. But, when Albert was out of sight, Lester reissued from the door and walked up and down in the bright moonlight almost till the break of day. He was in a mood of mind which sometimes attacked him, a mood at once of excitement and depression, of depression because excited, a mood of mind in which his life's prospects pressed heavily, and when the icy chain which severed him from his kind hung around him like a feather of lead, there had been a time it was in Lester's early youth when his shyness had found relief in society beneath him and when the dangers which attend that relief had appeared to be closing around him, leading or rather dragging him into temptation. But these perils were dissipated and the chain of evil habits and lowering associations broken at once and for ever by the death of his father. When he was 24 years old, at his death he found himself left as sole guardian to five sisters, all younger than himself, and the responsibility imposed upon him bound him for ever. Mr. Lester, the father, had held a legal office which allowed him to bring up his family in comfort and even in affluence. His death was sudden and he came off while yet only on the borders of age, but though sudden his cares for his children had provided for a change and the arrangements he had made were such as a father's foresight had deemed the best. His daughters were motherless and at the age most needing careful guardianship, his only son was, as has been said, involved in dangers which might lead to a loss of character and respectability. Had he taken advice, the wisest counselor might have said, appoint another and safer guardian for your motherless children, but Mr. Lester had looked with keen discrimination into his son's character. He trusted him while his steps were wandering from the right way. He left to him all he possessed with the simple request that he would be a father to his sisters and provide for and watch over them as their father would have done. It was a heavy responsibility for so young a man. Young married men grow with the growth of their family and every year is a school of experience for the year that is to follow, but on Lester the burden of a full-grown family was suddenly laid. He felt the burden and with natural diffidence felt also his inability to perform the task, but not the less he set himself to it, shaking himself free from old temptations, putting aside other hopes and cares, gravely and sadly, but nobly and honorably. And with all his heart his father had rightly judged of him. A house in Clarkes Street, an eight hundred a year, this was what his father had left to him in charge for his sisters to educate the younger, to give comforts and pleasures to the elder, to lay by for future portions or sudden emergencies, to shield them all as far as in him lay from the disappointments and cares which their reduced income and change of life must naturally bring. These had been his ceaseless thoughts for eight long years, thoughts so engrossing that his own selfish existence had seemed to pass out of sight that hope or joy in life, except as connected with their welfare had vanished or seemed to vanish from his imagination and from theirs also, one separate existence alone he had and this was in his legal studies, vigorously pursued for their benefit and his own, but so far as yet appeared, pursued without end or hope. Beneath these cares and studies life had flowed by him with a heavy step, slight tints of gray were visible in his dark hair and furrows lightly streaked his broad eyebrow, while an expression of melancholy, not oppressive, but gentle and subdued, seemed the expression natural to his countenance, in some respects the charge that had been laid upon him operated disadvantageously on his character, his natural gravity increased, thought drew him further and further from the animating scenes of life the habit set its fatal seal on a diffidence that once might have been overcome, the absence of selfish hopes and fears in some degree dulled the outward man, depriving him of those qualities which the world sees and hears of, which win and attract the many and which are twice blessed, blessing those who have and those who see them, but though he suffered under this disadvantage and far more than compensation within, as much more as the gifts of the moral nature are above the graces of the outward man, he had that within that past show, a mind in which every evil thought or desire was conquered through the desire to be worthy of his trust, a mind refined and purified even as he wished to guard his sisters innocent and pure, which man's strongest enemy, self-love, was through the love of others, as nearly banished as perhaps in human nature it is possible to be, and as years passed on, silently and almost unconsciously a diviner principle was growing up, he felt his weakness to be and do all that a father might and should, that picture of a father which he had set before him, sublimated perhaps beyond any human model, so watchful, so far-seeing, so tender in sympathy, so long-suffering with infirmity, and as man, frail and infirm, must do when once fully conscious of his weakness, he began to seek and find his strength above, there is said to be a peculiar character attendant upon a widow's son, in such a character the guardian brother shares, but man is man, nevertheless, and cannot at all times live in the same exaltation of spirit, there were moments when Lester's heart sank under the want of selfish hope, which his position seemed to him to forbid, he had early convinced himself that that which had been left as trust for his sisters, might not so long, at least, as they remained unmarried or poor, furnish forth the means to make a happy home for his later years, it was but seldom that this fact presented itself with anything of pain to his mind, for the most part his love went hand in hand with his duty to his sisters, and he was content to be theirs alone, but there were moments when he was less strong, moments when his heart yearned for the hopes which bless most men in their dreams, it was one of these fits of excitement and depression which visited him on the night of which we speak, a fit so violent and so prolonged that he walked on and on in the stillness of the night before the enemy was conquered, wherefore on this night who can tell, many very thoughts sweep over the brain and some among them, though but light thoughts, strange exciting power, many sights pass before the eye, and some without our knowledge, impress the memory, leaving a trace never to be effaced again, it might have been the sight of a happy home, a father's fond love or a daughter's devotion, it might have been the sight of a fair face or the sound of a sweet voice or the laugh of one who knew no care, it might have been the attraction of one being towards another by inexplicable magical attraction, who can tell, there is no questioning of the inner springs of thought and feeling, all that man can do is to master such disturbances of the inward man which reason or conscience forbids him to indulge, and so before he slept, Lester set himself to master the giant self who had suddenly taken possession of his soul and now, if it be asked whether his sisters were worthy of his devotion, whether the home they had made for him was as happy as his affection had demanded, it must be owned in answer that they were even unusually compassed about with human infirmities, infirmities very various in their kinds, but all conspiring to mar that peace and sympathy which had it been more perfect might have satisfied all his affections. Marion, the eldest, was at this time 29, 3 years younger than her brother, at the period of her father's death, she had been a weak-minded, frivolous girl, with thoughts dwelling exclusively on balls and parties, dress, partners, and love. Her brother endeavored to impress her mind with the necessity for care and thought in the arrangement of their now limited income, and for this purpose consulted her seriously, not only on matters of housekeeping, but on the needful sums to be allotted to the different departments of dress, pleasure, and education. He succeeded in interesting her not only beyond his hopes, but beyond his wishes. The love of usefulness, the love of power, the love of management, laid firm hold on her mind and, with the exclusiveness of weak minds, shut out all other loves. Henceforth, balls, parties, dress, and lovers were abjured. She became a tolerable housekeeper and a tiresome woman. Henrietta, the second sister, had a family likeness to Marion's original character. She was also frivolous and sentimental, but with a more varied disposition, and a greater charm of manner. She could never have been what her sister was. Jesse, the fourth, was again a reproduction of the same character, under slightly varying features. More silly than Marion, and with less charm than Henrietta, all three were pretty, for there was great beauty in the family. And none had any very serious faults or evil tempers. But all their minds were small. They were immersed in small cares, small joys, and still smaller jealousies. Lester did not find much sympathy of soul with them. The other two were formed in a different mold. Rachel, the third sister, was like her brother in person, and like him, also, in mind. Her face was beautiful. Her mind, thoughtful and diffident, in a degree even beyond his. This diffidence was increased by circumstances. She was lame, not sufficiently so to cause her much personal inconvenience, but enough to cause awkwardness in her movements and to make her bashful in retiring from observation. This diffidence prevented that union with her brother and comfort in his society, which might have been hers. All the sisters were jealous of his affection. All would willingly have supposed themselves his first object. Rachel had not the moral courage, even for his sake, to brave the pain these jealousies might cause, and to go forward to give and receive the confidence that might have existed, the sympathy that did exist between them. She was a failure, and she knew it. Perhaps the one from whom he derived the greatest pleasure in comfort was his youngest sister, Margaret, now just 18. Though she had grown up beneath his fatherly care, she stood less in awe of him than any of her sisters and though less capable of understanding him and unable to be so real a friend as Rachel, the freedom and confidence with which she treated him made her society the greatest refreshment he knew. She helped him in other ways also. Since she had grown to reasonable and observant years she had stood forth in his defense against the exactions of her elder sisters. The actions thoughtlessly enforced by them and patiently and kindly submitted to by him, but whose pertinacity tended to reduce him to slavery. This was the sister of whom he had spoken to Violet as preferring his chaperonage to that of all others. She was a pretty, straightforward, good-humored girl who with no superiority of character was an example of the comfort such practical qualities as good sense, good temper, and self-reliance can give. You were very late last night, John observed Marion as the whole party sat at breakfast on the following morning. I did not hear your door shut until after three o'clock. What was the cause? Don't answer unless you please, said Margaret who sat by his side. I have no objection to answer. He replied, smiling, it was a bright moonlight night and I walked about till I was quite tired. Where did you dine last night? said Henrietta. Oh, I remember. It was Mr. Osborn's. Was it not? Yes. Albert Alice's uncle. Has he a fine house? asked Marion. What sort of establishment does he keep? Nothing you will care to hear about. My dear Marion, everything very grand. I have brought away no hints for you but he has a daughter. We should like to hear about her. I know people call her a beauty. Is she a beauty? What does she like? Does she dress very fine? These and other like questions were asked by Henrietta and Jesse between them. She is not like any of us, was the reply. She has blue eyes and auburn hair. As to her dress, I cannot give you any particulars. It was pretty, I think, but whether or not, I don't know. Were there many young people there? As Miss Osborn, a great many people who admire her, did you like her? John, continued the two inquirers. Don't answer. John, said Margaret, lifting up her hand. I don't choose that John should be pestered with questions. Let him tell us what he likes but don't let us worry him to death. You are needlessly officious. Margaret, said Marion, John is able to decide whether he pleases to answer or not without your help. Not quite. John is too good natured, but John do answer us, said Jesse. Is Miss Osborn a nice girl? Is she very fascinating? Did you get on with her? And do you think you could fall in love with her? There is Jesse's rapid imagination, he said, smiling, though the ten curious eyes that looked into his face succeeded in bringing a faint, very faint color there. Jesse asks that question every time I make a new acquaintance. But you have not answered me today, said Jesse. In general, he says no. Does he not? Henrietta? But today he will not say no. Now, John, I will not have John pestered, cried Margaret, peremptorily, leave him and Miss Osborn alone. My dear Margaret, he said, with quickness, they do not pester me in the least. I will answer anything you please, Jesse. What is it you want to know? Whether you think you could fall in love with Miss Osborn, said both Jesse and Henrietta eagerly. And that is rather a difficult question to answer, he replied playfully. If I say no, that is not very civil to a young lady, is it? And if I say yes, it is not very decorous. But why this extraordinary interest in Miss Osborn? What do you know of her too excited? As to that, I feel it too, said Margaret. I suppose it is because we know Mr. Ellis a little. I like Mr. Ellis, and so I fancy his cousin. Besides, she is a beauty, said Henrietta. And though you may think me frivolous to say so, a beauty always interests me more than a common girl. So far from thinking you frivolous, Henrietta said Lester, smiling, I am of the same mind myself. But I am afraid we must leave all frivolous things for the present. Marion, you look as if the house folks were waiting. Do you want me before I go out? She acquiesced and they went away together. Marion was the only one who ever saw her brother alone. If any other had attempted a private interview, a storm of curiosity and jealousy would have been excited in the house. Of her opportunities, Marion made no use. So far as acquaintance with his tastes and wishes went, his interviews were solely confined to complaints of servants and tradespeople, taxes, and prices. These things weighed heavily on her mind, and she poured them out into his kind and patient ears on every occasion. Heedless how she wearied him, and regardless whether or not he had any worries or troubles to confide in return. The remaining sisters conversed on what had passed. I think John is going to be in love with Miss Osborne, said Henrietta. You may not believe me. But before anything was said, when he first came in this morning I saw something unusual in his face. So did I, said Jesse, which fact, however, was doubtful for Jesse's thoughts had but seldom an independent being. Then why did you ask so many questions? said Rachel. Speaking for the first time and then with a rising color don't you wish him to be in love and to marry? To marry, cried Margaret, startled and aghast. No, indeed. I don't wish him to marry. No, indeed. Echoed the two others. Mary, I never thought of such a thing. John must not marry. It is the thing I long for, continued Rachel, her color deepening in the earnestness of her manner. He has been long enough devoted to us. It is time he had some hope of his own. But good gracious! cried Henrietta. What would happen to us if he married? Think of the house without a man in it. We must all marry too. That is certain, said Margaret. I could no more live in the house without John than I could live with the fishes in the sea. But happily there is no need to think about it. Rachel's thoughts have flown as fast as Jesse's. John has no thoughts of marrying. I am very sure. I did not think he had. I only wish he had. Then pray don't wish, my dear Rachel, said Margaret, earnestly. It is being so much more unselfish than I can be. That it makes me quite uncomfortable. What did you think, Rachel? asked Henrietta. For where John was concerned, Rachel's insight into his feelings was instinctively felt. Did you think he was going to be in love with Miss Osborn? He certainly gave us no reason to think so, she replied. And I don't think John is a person to fall in love in a few hours. But still I did fancy. Like you. That I saw some kind of thought in his face this morning. It need not have been that. However, he has many things to think of. Sentimentally, I saw love in his face when first he came in this morning. Don't talk such trash, said Margaret indignantly. One would think John was a lackadaisical fool to hear you speak. I am sick of the very name of Miss Osborn. Pray let us leave her alone. End of Volume 1, Chapter 4 Section 5 Of Violet Osborn This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Alice Hasty Bristol, England Violet Osborn by Lady Emily Ponsonby Volume 1, Chapter 5 My soul is full of words. My voice finds none. Mr Osborn was as good as his word. He learned to like Leicester. He was an individual of a quietly busy turn of mind, especially busy in other people's business. A good, easy man with an intellect somewhat dulled by the prosperity of his life. Imposed on by the shows and surface of things, swayed by those who chose to sway him, but an upright, honourable man, kindly and kindly and liberally inclined and well judging too when he took time to look below the surface. Though naturally attracted by very different qualities from Leicester's he determined to cultivate his acquaintance because he saw it pleased his daughter and having given himself the trouble to go below the surface he was pleased for himself also. Leicester was invited more than once to dine with them alone and Mr Osborn found Leicester at his ease a different man to Leicester in lively society. He had a large mind making up by acute observation for that lack of variety his circumstances had forbidden him. What he knew he knew with a lawyer's precision what he saw he saw vividly. What he heard he remembered and reproduced with originality. From the storehouse of his mind Mr Osborn drew forth many a piece of curious information many an original observation many an acute opinion and there was this charm in Leicester that he was without consciousness of his power. All that dropped from him however worth hearing dropped as simply as the first quick observations of a child. The steady principle the lofty integrity which appeared in his tone of thought were also appreciated by their full value by Mr Osborn and in a very short time Leicester became a favourite I like Mr Leicester as much as you do Violet he observed to his daughter he is not showing in society but he is better than that I think him a very agreeable and very superior young man not so very young said Violet who in her evenings entertainments being much beset with what she disdainfully dominated boys had a marked preference for age well darling a very agreeable old man though to me perhaps his age does not appear as venerable as to you some of Violet's acquaintance were in the habit of laughing at her for her manias she had manias for things manias for employments manias for books while the fit lasted the object of the mania reigned sole lord of her mind when it was over and sometimes it lasted but a few days the object was degraded from its throne for a time or forever she could not care for anything that attracted her attention in a properly placid and careless way her fancies were whole and entire never half and half but there was one thing which those who criticised never observed and that was that there was a certain constancy even in the inconstancy of her fancies try all things hold fast that which is good this apostolic rule with unconscious impulse not conscious seriousness was the habit of her mind the worthless objects lived their day and died but allowing for the caprices of human nature and an excitable girl's nature the worthier objects outlived the violence of the mania and became the calm possessors of her time or affections no thing or book or person that had intrinsic worth was ever forsaken and no duty though the zest and novelty had passed away once imposed was ever forgotten it was with something of this apology that she satisfied her mind her fancies, nay justified even their excesses there is no telling what a thing is worth she would say till you have thoroughly examined it nor a person till you have searched them through and through she was as perhaps is very evident at this time seized with a mania for Leicester now a mania for a gentleman is not by any means a proper frame of mind for a young lady but Violet was so unconscious of being actuated by any motive but the purest benevolence towards Albert's bashful friend that it is hoped the impropriety will be forgiven her it is not to be supposed however that her mania led her to any indiscretion or unmaidenliness of manner she was more apt to show her likes and dislikes than is common and from the fluttery and courting she had received more fearless in the expression of her opinions than is usual or perhaps desirable at her age but at the same time her manners were so entirely her own and had a grace so sweet and winning in their fearlessness that even a rigid sensor would have found little to condemn her interest in Leicester's character was deepened by a slight circumstance which occurred after their acquaintance had made some progress an invitation had been given by Mrs Osborne to Albert and Leicester to go with her and Violet to the play an early dinner in Park Lane was to proceed the play Violet was extremely fond of all theatrical entertainments and as unwilling as a child to lose any part of a purposed pleasure she therefore in very peremptory terms enforced upon Albert the duty of punctuality and assured him that she should sit down to dinner at six o'clock whether he were ready or not Leicester heard the playful command and determined that Violet should not be disappointed by the exertion of a strong will he gained his point and Albert was for once in time it was five minutes to six when they reached the door of Mr Osborne's house and when they are informed to Albert's indignation and dismay the Mrs Osborne was not yet to come home from her afternoon's drive lavishing upon Violet a considerable quantity of well merited abuse Albert led the way to the drawing room and planted himself at the window to watch for their return Leicester stood with him for a few minutes then tired of his complaints sat down and began to turn over the books on the table in a short time Albert saw the barouche approaching thinking in his great wisdom that it would be indecorous to blow up Violet in Leicester's presence he slipped out of the room and went to meet her at the door Leicester was at the moment absorbed in something he read and did not remark his departure after receiving her lecture with a good grace Violet flew up to make her excuses to Leicester leaving Albert to bemoan himself to her mother her movements were so light and rapid that he wrote him before his attention was diverted from his book I am glad to find you so well employed she said laughing as he started I was afraid you would be abusing me but what can you be reading so attentively she added with curiosity only some verses he replied colouring and he tossed the book aside with something of vexation now Violet being afflicted inquisitiveness felt a sudden and intense desire to know what verses could have so absorbed his attention too well bred however to ask fear the questions she merely glanced her quick eyes at the book and let the subject drop I ran up to apologise she said I know I quite deserve all Albert says but I must just tell you how it was we went to a flower show and Mama was very much pleased now you know the play there is no great pleasure to poor Mama but she is really fond of flowers and she seems so happy looking at them that I had not the heart to drag her away I know it is wrong to break an engagement but I hope you'll forgive me no we will not said Albert preventing Lester's answer not at least until you have done your best to repair your fault go and dress do I have set my aunt upstairs and you had much better follow her without more delay I will go directly Violet said immediately and we will be quite ready in a quarter of an hour I wish you would go and take a walk then I would not feel that you are waiting you must have got some card to leave hear about I think I have come Alice when Violet is gone I will he said obstinately and she was forced to hurry away but her thoughts were with the book of verses and performing her toilette in an inexpressibly short space of time she flew again to the drawing room and as she expected found it empty she had observed that the leaf in the book was slightly rumbled and by seizing it before any other hand touched it she fancied she could discover what verses Lester had read nor was she mistaken in the haste of shutting it a corner was turned down and the volume opened at once on the following lines the dumb there are who when the tide of music wakes when the voice of song or a raptured hearer's breaks in heart an answering harmony repeat an orpheus liar more musically sweet but they are dumb there are when man with man in mirth rejoices when there are ready smiles and eager voices could the spirit speak more glad more gay with golden words would bear all hearts away but they are dumb and there are souls in whom love's fires burn with flame so bright so pure that could they learn love's magic words or pain were hushed to sleep so would they joy with joy with sorrow weep but they are dumb not mute of lip more strangely bound from love's full fount slow words of comfort sound a veil is over the soul the tongue is tied the ardent fire cold icy barriers hide and they are dumb oh in that land where all the blind shall see the death the halt from their strong chains be free will the glad spirit from its fetters breaking and the freed tongue from frostbound silence waking no more be dumb the verses absorb the attention of Violet as much as they seem to be excited that of Lester not because of any qualities in the verses themselves but because of the insight they gave her into his thoughts she imagined not that it is always a just inference that the verses which thus absorbed his attention express the feelings of his mind and for the feeling thus exhibited her kind heart glowed with compassion she determined and certainly in the moment of so determining there was no thought of patronising to go forward more than she had yet dared to do for the encouragement of his backwardness and the consolation of his depression as soon as she heard footsteps on the stairs she jumped up and pushed the book away quickly enough to escape Albert's notice but not so quickly as to conceal from Lester what she had been doing by the direction of his eyes she saw her curiosity had been observed and both coloured as the mutual discovery was made he said nothing but Violet's nature was too open to allow her to remain silent under the circumstances she blushed more deeply but laughed and said I was trying to find the verses you liked Mr Lester perhaps you will think me unwarrantably curious and I'm afraid you will think truly I am curious I know that you are Albert murmured with delighted emphasis if I see a little butcher's boy go by with a book I can hardly help running after him to see what it is is it a very bad propensity I suppose it is he said with a smile at least we are taught so of course it is Albert chimed in with all of man and all bad things come from curiosity Violet would have been a regular eve no she replied decidedly never curious in wrong things mine is only harmless curiosity foolish and impertinent perhaps but not wrong at any rate will you forgive my indulgence of it so far as you are concerned Mr Lester she smiled very brightly and very sweetly as she asked the question he only smiled an answer and Albert broke off the conversation by announcing that his aunt was approaching and desiring Violet to order dinner Mrs Osborne sat down in the window and Violet having obeyed her cousin joined her she stood leaning against the wall behind her and looked very pretty in her airy demi-toilette with the sunshine streaming upon her bright hair Albert who in the near prospect of dinner had recovered his temper began to compliment her on the rapidity of her toilette and from thence proceeded to commend the style of her dress now that he said is what I call a proper and becoming dress for a woman why will they persist in decking themselves out in their hateful evening dresses I cannot conceive why do you do it Violet do you think women do I can tell you you are very much mistaken one must do as the world does she replied laughing then there will never be a reform sensible women ought to take a line of their own I say, Aunt Elizabeth he continued raising his voice why don't you make Violet dress herself properly and set a good example to the world if she always dressed as she is dressed tonight that's a thousand times better than she is very pretty said Mrs Osborne with a pleased smile catching only a very small part of what she said that bright blue is my favourite colour what is your favourite colour Mr Lester I don't know he said Violet, I think there Violet, there's a compliment for you cried Albert Violet, at his inadvertent speech in a way in which it was painful to see any human being colour no, no said Violet quickly no compliment to me for I have nothing to do with my name it is a gentle and humble colour and sadly unlike me why ever did you give it to be a constant sermon to me mama as he stooped and kissed her mother's brow Lester took up a match from a table near him and twisted it in his fingers while the conversation proceeded when a few minutes afterwards a servant entered to say that dinner was ready it dropped on the floor and giving it a kick with his foot he offered his arm to Mrs Osborne stay a moment Albert said Violet I want to see this as she piqued from the floor a minute form of a little bird and exhibited it with something of reverential admiration to her cousin ah yes Albert said contemplating it gravely but don't go remark upon it to him that's because he said he liked the colour Violet what a pity it is the man so shy a pity for him yes replied Violet but his shyness interests me so much I cannot wish it away how I wish I could do anything to make him happier you had better leave that alone Albert said sagely as he drew her along that is not a young lady's business besides he is too good for patronising leave him alone and he'll do in time I should never think of patronising Violet said with some sharpness as they entered the dining-room to which assertion Albert only nodded his head among Violet's schemes for the encouragement of Lester and as a means of showing him how much he was appreciated in her father's house she formed a resolution to make the acquaintance of his sisters that she should have formed the resolution was a proof that Violet was far gone in her desire to give him pleasure for she was not fond of young lady's society she had not even an intimate friend accustomed to the admiration of mankind old and young and satisfied with her wise monitor Albert for the confident of her small troubles she had ever experienced a sense of weariness in the conversation of young ladies but the mania of the time being was very apt to make slight changes in Violet's way of thinking as she now persuaded herself that she should derive as well as give pleasure through the acquaintance she wished to form she made her wish known to Lester one evening when he dined in Park Lane she worded her quest prettily and carefully concealing her desire to give pleasure under the pleasure more prominently she put forward which she hoped to receive she was surprised and to speak truly very much netled at only receiving a quiet to her request Violet could not learn to take such disappointments calmly nor yet to conceal her sensations I think you did not wish me to know your sisters she said quickly you are very suspicious he said with a smile not suspicious only quick to see what people mean I see you do not wish me to know your sisters why? do you think I shall do them harm? Lester hesitated Violet's opinion was becoming too important her approbation too dear to him he had not been thoroughly conscious of it till that moment when her request broad vividly before him some scenes at home some follies and customs of three of his sisters which were to have given him pain for her to witness which he felt he would rather have died than bring under her keen perceptions his hesitation was the consequence of struggles which he felt to be disloyal to them at last he answered truthily you must not suppose I do not see the kindness which prompts your request if I do not accept your offer at once it is because I hardly think the acquaintance will give you the pleasure you expect it is no disparagement to my sisters to say that they are very unlike you some human being suit some do not I do not think they would suit you do you speak for their sakes or for mine? Violet asked I believe I spoke for my own he replied honestly I should wish you to like them and I fear when you know them you may not do so it is better to speak out what one feels but I think she said playfully I am not such a dragon as you make out I know I do sometimes laugh at girls I cannot help it but I am not really ill-natured a little laughing does no harm but besides I am sure I shall like your sisters it is no kindness it is no pleasure to me to know them unless it will be disagreeable to them then I will not stand in the way of what I know will give them pleasure and I must trust to your good nature he added gravely and after a moment's pause to bear as kindly with their infirmities as you have done with those of their brother never before had Lester alluded to the infirmity under which he suffered and that he did so now was shown by his heightened colour to be an effort to him Violet was so startled and affected by the speech that she blushed very deeply and for a moment hardly knew how to answer him compliments ought not to be paid to me at last she said laughing off her embarrassment they gratify me too much I meant no compliment I assure you he replied in the same brave tone they're not all events she continued haggardly you give me leave to do what I wish you disappointed me at first I own I do give my leave he said smiling and thank you for your intention and Violet let the subject drop the very strange sensation she had felt when Lester thanked her for her kindness to him might have given her a warning that benevolence was not the soul and simple motive that actuated her but Violet was too happy her mind too full and joyous and active to be at liberty to analyse its sensations she pursued her way freely and thoughtlessly laughingly owning to herself that she had got a new mania and never considering that its nature was somewhat different in kind from those that had hitherto occupied her End of volume 1 chapter 5