to conquer her love.  Then, when this could not be done, when something almost like idolatry grew upon her, she determined that it should be the idolatry of friendship, that she would not sin even in thought, that there should be nothing in her heart of which she need be ashamed;—­but that the one great object and purport of her life should be the promotion of this friend’s welfare.  She had just begun to love after this fashion, had taught herself to believe that she might combine something of the pleasure of idolatry towards her friend with a full complement of duty towards her husband, when Phineas came to her with his tale of love for Violet Effingham.  The lesson which she got then was a very rough one,—­so hard that at first she could not bear it.  Her anger at his love for her brother’s wished-for bride was lost in her dismay that Phineas should love any one after having once loved her.  But by sheer force of mind she had conquered that dismay, that feeling of desolation at her heart, and had almost taught herself to hope that Phineas might succeed with Violet.  He wished it,—­and why should he not have what he wished,—­he, whom she so fondly idolised?  It was not his fault that he and she were not man and wife.  She had chosen to arrange it otherwise, and was she not bound to assist him now in the present object of his reasonable wishes?  She had got over in her heart that difficulty about her brother, but she could not quite conquer the other difficulty.  She could not bring herself to plead his cause with Violet.  She had not brought herself as yet to do it.

And now she was accused of idolatry for Phineas by her husband,—­she with “a lot of others,” in which lot Violet was of course included.  Would it not be better that they two should be brought together?  Would not her friend’s husband still be her friend?  Would she not then forget to love him?  Would she not then be safer than she was now?

As she sat alone struggling with her difficulties, she had not as yet forgotten to love him,—­nor was she as yet safe.

CHAPTER XLV

Miss Effingham’s Four Lovers

One morning early in June Lady Laura called at Lady Baldock’s house and asked for Miss Effingham.  The servant was showing her into the large drawing-room, when she again asked specially for Miss Effingham.  “I think Miss Effingham is there,” said the man, opening the door.  Miss Effingham was not there.  Lady Baldock was sitting all alone, and Lady Laura perceived that she had been caught in the net which she specially wished to avoid.  Now Lady Baldock had not actually or openly quarrelled with Lady Laura Kennedy or with Lord Brentford, but she had conceived a strong idea that her niece Violet was countenanced in all improprieties by the Standish family generally, and that therefore the Standish family was to be regarded as a family of enemies.  There was doubtless in her mind considerable confusion