The aunt, in these days, had taken it into her head to talk of poor Lord Chiltern.  This arose partly from a belief that the quarrel was final, and that, therefore, there would be no danger in aggravating Violet by this expression of pity,—­partly from a feeling that it would be better that her niece should marry Lord Chiltern than that she should not marry at all,—­and partly, perhaps, from the general principle that, as she thought it right to scold her niece on all occasions, this might be best done by taking an opposite view of all questions to that taken by the niece to be scolded.  Violet was supposed to regard Lord Chiltern as having sinned against her, and therefore Lady Baldock talked of “poor Lord Chiltern.”  As to the other lovers, she had begun to perceive that their conditions were hopeless.  Her daughter Augusta had explained to her that there was no chance remaining either for Phineas, or for Lord Fawn, or for Mr. Appledom.  “I believe she will be an old maid, on purpose to bring me to my grave,” said Lady Baldock.  When, therefore, Lady Baldock was told one day that Lord Chiltern was in the house, and was asking to see Miss Effingham, she did not at once faint away, and declare that they would all be murdered,—­as she would have done some months since.  She was perplexed by a double duty.  If it were possible that Violet should relent and be reconciled, then it would be her duty to save Violet from the claws of the wild beast.  But if there was no such chance, then it would be her duty to poor Lord Chiltern to see that he was not treated with contumely and ill-humour.

“Does she know that he is here?” Lady Baldock asked her daughter.

“Not yet, mamma.”

“Oh dear, oh dear!  I suppose she ought to see him.  She has given him so much encouragement!”

“I suppose she will do as she pleases, mamma.”

“Augusta, how can you talk in that way?  Am I to have no control in my own house?” It was, however, soon apparent to her that in this matter she was to have no control.

“Lord Chiltern is down-stairs,” said Violet, coming into the room abruptly.

“So Augusta tells me.  Sit down, my dear.”

“I cannot sit down, aunt,—­not just now.  I have sent down to say that I would be with him in a minute.  He is the most impatient soul alive, and I must not keep him waiting.”

“And you mean to see him?”

“Certainly I shall see him,” said Violet, as she left the room.

“I wonder that any woman should ever take upon herself the charge of a niece!” said Lady Baldock to her daughter in a despondent tone, as she held up her hands in dismay.  In the meantime, Violet had gone down-stairs with a quick step, and had then boldly entered the room in which her lover was waiting to receive her.

“I have to thank you for coming to me, Violet,” said Lord Chiltern.  There was still in his face something of savagery,—­an expression partly of anger and partly of resolution to tame the thing with which he was angry.  Violet did not regard the anger half so keenly as she did that resolution of taming.  An angry lord, she thought, she could endure, but she could not bear the idea of being tamed by any one.