on the subject, for she did not know whether Lord Chiltern or Mr. Finn was the suitor whom she most feared,—­and she was aware, after a sort of muddled fashion, that the claims of these two wicked young men were antagonistic to each other.  But they were both regarded by her as emanations from the same source of iniquity, and, therefore, without going deeply into the machinations of Lady Laura,—­without resolving whether Lady Laura was injuring her by pressing her brother as a suitor upon Miss Effingham, or by pressing a rival of her brother,—­still she became aware that it was her duty to turn a cold shoulder on those two houses in Portman Square and Grosvenor Place.  But her difficulties in doing this were very great, and it may be said that Lady Baldock was placed in an unjust and cruel position.  Before the end of May she had proposed to leave London, and to take her daughter and Violet down to Baddingham,—­or to Brighton, if they preferred it, or to Switzerland.  “Brighton in June!” Violet had exclaimed.  “Would not a month among the glaciers be delightful!” Miss Boreham had said.  “Don’t let me keep you in town, aunt,” Violet replied; “but I do not think I shall go till other people go.  I can have a room at Laura Kennedy’s house.”  Then Lady Baldock, whose position was hard and cruel, resolved that she would stay in town.  Here she had in her hands a ward over whom she had no positive power, and yet in respect to whom her duty was imperative!  Her duty was imperative, and Lady Baldock was not the woman to neglect her duty;—­and yet she knew that the doing of her duty would all be in vain.  Violet would marry a shoe-black out of the streets if she were so minded.  It was of no use that the poor lady had provided herself with two strings, two most excellent strings, to her bow,—­two strings either one of which should have contented Miss Effingham.  There was Lord Fawn, a young peer, not very rich indeed,—­but still with means sufficient for a wife, a rising man, and in every way respectable, although a Whig.  And there was Mr. Appledom, one of the richest commoners in England, a fine Conservative too, with a seat in the House, and everything appropriate.  He was fifty, but looked hardly more than thirty-five, and was,—­so at least Lady Baldock frequently asserted,—­violently in love with Violet Effingham.  Why had not the law, or the executors, or the Lord Chancellor, or some power levied for the protection of the proprieties, made Violet absolutely subject to her guardian till she should be made subject to a husband?

“Yes, I think she is at home,” said Lady Baldock, in answer to Lady Laura’s inquiry for Violet.  “At least, I hardly know.  She seldom tells me what she means to do,—­and sometimes she will walk out quite alone!” A most imprudent old woman was Lady Baldock, always opening her hand to her adversaries, unable to control herself in the scolding of people, either before their faces or behind their backs, even at moments in which such