up a house for herself;—­but she was quite aware that that project could not be used further than for the purpose of scaring her amiable aunt.  And if not that,—­then could she content herself to look forward to a joint life with Lady Baldock and Augusta Boreham?  She might, of course, oblige her aunt by taking Lord Fawn, or oblige her aunt equally by taking Mr. Appledom; but she was strongly of opinion that either Lord Chiltern or Phineas would be preferable to these.  Thinking over it always she had come to feel that it must be either Lord Chiltern or Phineas; but she had never whispered her thought to man or woman.  On her journey to Loughlinter, where she then knew that she was to meet Lord Chiltern, she endeavoured to persuade herself that it should be Phineas.  But Lady Laura had marred it all by that ill-told fib.  There had been a moment before in which Violet had felt that Phineas had sacrificed something of that truth of love for which she gave him credit to the glances of Madame Goesler’s eyes; but she had rebuked herself for the idea, accusing herself not only of a little jealousy, but of foolish vanity.  Was he, whom she had rejected, not to speak to another woman?  Then came the blow from Lady Laura, and Violet knew that it was a blow.  This gallant lover, this young Crichton, this unassuming but ardent lover, had simply taken up with her as soon as he had failed with her friend.  Lady Laura had been most enthusiastic in her expressions of friendship.  Such platonic regards might be all very well.  It was for Mr. Kennedy to look to that.  But, for herself, she felt that such expressions were hardly compatible with her ideas of having her lover all to herself.  And then she again remembered Madame Goesler’s bright blue eyes.

Lord Chiltern came on Christmas eve, and was received with open arms by his sister, and with that painful, irritating affection which such a girl as Violet can show to such a man as Lord Chiltern, when she will not give him that other affection for which his heart is panting.  The two men were civil to each other,—­but very cold.  They called each other Kennedy and Chiltern, but even that was not done without an effort.  On the Christmas morning Mr. Kennedy asked his brother-in-law to go to church.  “It’s a kind of thing I never do,” said Lord Chiltern.  Mr. Kennedy gave a little start, and looked a look of horror.  Lady Laura showed that she was unhappy.  Violet Effingham turned away her face, and smiled.

As they walked across the park Violet took Lord Chiltern’s part.  “He only means that he does not go to church on Christmas day.”

“I don’t know what he means,” said Mr. Kennedy.

“We need not speak of it,” said Lady Laura.

“Certainly not,” said Mr. Kennedy.

“I have been to church with him on Sundays myself,” said Violet, perhaps not reflecting that the practices of early years had little to do with the young man’s life at present.