rejected him?  As he stood he heard the sound of music from the house, and remembered that he had come there with the one sole object of seeing Violet Effingham.  He had known that he would meet Lady Laura, and it had been in his mind to break through that law of silence which she had imposed upon him, and once more to ask her to assist him,—­to implore her for the sake of their old friendship to tell him whether there might yet be for him any chance of success.  But in the interview which had just taken place it had been impossible for him to speak a word of himself or of Violet.  To her, in her great desolation, he could address himself on no other subject than that of her own misery.  But not the less when she was talking to him of her own sorrow, of her regret that she had not listened to him when in years past he had spoken slightingly of Mr. Kennedy, was he thinking of Violet Effingham.  Mr. Kennedy had certainly mistaken the signs of things when he had accused his wife by saying that Phineas was her lover.  Phineas had soon got over that early feeling; and as far as he himself was concerned had never regretted Lady Laura’s marriage.

He remained down by the water for a few minutes, giving Lady Laura time to escape, and then he wandered across the grounds towards the house.  It was now about nine o’clock, and though there were still many walking about the grounds, the crowd of people were in the rooms.  The musicians were ranged out on a verandah, so that their music might have been available for dancing within or without; but the dancers had found the boards pleasanter than the lawn, and the Duke’s garden party was becoming a mere ball, with privilege for the dancers to stroll about the lawn between the dances.  And in this respect the fun was better than at a ball,—­that let the engagements made for partners be what they might, they could always be broken with ease.  No lady felt herself bound to dance with a cavalier who was displeasing to her; and some gentlemen were left sadly in the lurch.  Phineas felt himself to be very much in the lurch, even after he had discovered Violet Effingham standing up to dance with Lord Fawn.

He bided his time patiently, and at last he found his opportunity.  “Would she dance with him?” She declared that she intended to dance no more, and that she had promised to be ready to return home with Lord Brentford before ten o’clock.  “I have pledged myself not to be after ten,” she said, laughing.  Then she put her hand upon his arm, and they stepped out upon the terrace together.  “Have you heard anything?” she asked him, almost in a whisper.

“Yes,” he said.  “I have heard what you mean.  I have heard it all.”

“Is it not dreadful?”

“I fear it is the best thing she can do.  She has never been happy with him.”

“But to be accused after that fashion,—­by her husband!” said Violet.  “One can hardly believe it in these days.  And of all women she is the last to deserve such accusation.”