“Somebody had been hoaxing her.  I am beginning to think that Augusta does it for her private amusement.  If so, I shall think more highly of my dear cousin than I have hitherto done.  But, Laura, as you have made a similar accusation against me, and as I cannot get out of it with you as I do with my aunt, I must ask you to hear my protestation.  I am not in love with Mr. Phineas Finn.  Heaven help me;—­as far as I can tell, I am not in love with any one, and never shall be.”  Lady Laura looked pleased.  “Do you know,” continued Violet, “that I think I could be in love with Mr. Phineas Finn, if I could be in love with anybody?” Then Lady Laura looked displeased.  “In the first place, he is a gentleman,” continued Violet.  “Then he is a man of spirit.  And then he has not too much spirit;—­not that kind of spirit which makes some men think that they are the finest things going.  His manners are perfect;—­not Chesterfieldian, and yet never offensive.  He never browbeats any one, and never toadies any one.  He knows how to live easily with men of all ranks, without any appearance of claiming a special status for himself.  If he were made Archbishop of Canterbury to-morrow, I believe he would settle down into the place of the first subject in the land without arrogance, and without false shame.”

“You are his eulogist with a vengeance.”

“I am his eulogist; but I am not in love with him.  If he were to ask me to be his wife to-morrow, I should be distressed, and should refuse him.  If he were to marry my dearest friend in the world, I should tell him to kiss me and be my brother.  As to Mr. Phineas Finn,—­those are my sentiments.”

“What you say is very odd.”

“Why odd?”

“Simply because mine are the same.”

“Are they the same?  I once thought, Laura, that you did love him;—­that you meant to be his wife.”

Lady Laura sat for a while without making any reply to this.  She sat with her elbow on the table and with her face leaning on her hand,—­thinking how far it would tend to her comfort if she spoke in true confidence.  Violet during the time never took her eyes from her friend’s face, but remained silent as though waiting for an answer.  She had been very explicit as to her feelings.  Would Laura Kennedy be equally explicit?  She was too clever to forget that such plainness of speech would be, must be more difficult to Lady Laura than to herself.  Lady Laura was a married woman; but she felt that her friend would have been wrong to search for secrets, unless she were ready to tell her own.  It was probably some such feeling which made Lady Laura speak at last.

“So I did, nearly—­” said Lady Laura; “very nearly.  You told me just now that you had money, and could therefore do as you pleased.  I had no money, and could not do as I pleased.”

“And you told me also that I had no reason for thinking that he cared for me.”

“Did I?  Well;—­I suppose you have no reason.  He did care for me.  He did love me.”