Miss Effingham’s life at this time was not the happiest in the world. Her lines, as she once said to her friend Lady Laura, were not laid for her in pleasant places. Her residence was still with her aunt, and she had come to find that it was almost impossible any longer to endure Lady Baldock, and quite impossible to escape from Lady Baldock. In former days she had had a dream that she might escape, and live alone if she chose to be alone; that she might be independent in her life, as a man is independent, if she chose to live after that fashion; that she might take her own fortune in her own hand, as the law certainly allowed her to do, and act with it as she might please. But latterly she had learned to understand that all this was not possible for her. Though one law allowed it, another law disallowed it, and the latter law was at least as powerful as the former. And then her present misery was enhanced by the fact that she was now banished from the second home which she had formerly possessed. Hitherto she had always been able to escape from Lady Baldock to the house of her friend, but now such escape was out of the question. Lady Laura and Lord Chiltern lived in the same house, and Violet could not live with them.

Lady Baldock understood all this, and tortured her niece accordingly. It was not premeditated torture. The aunt did not mean to make her niece’s life a burden to her, and, so intending, systematically work upon a principle to that effect, Lady Baldock, no doubt, desired to do her duty conscientiously. But the result was torture to poor Violet, and a strong conviction on the mind of each of the two ladies that the other was the most unreasonable being in the world.

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 downstairs,” 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 downstairs 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 anyone.

“Why should I not come?” she said. Of course I came when I was told that you were here. I do not think that there need be a quarrel between us, because we have changed our minds.”

“Such changes make quarrels,” said he.

“It shall not do so with me, unless you choose that it shall,” said Violet. “Why should we be enemies — we who have known each other since we were children? My dearest friends are your father and your sister. Why should we be enemies?”

“I have come to ask you whether you think that I have ill-used you?”

“Ill-used me! Certainly not. Has anyone told you that I have accused you?”

“No-one has told me so.”

“Then why do you ask me?”

“Because I would not have you think so — if I could help it. I did not intend to be rough with you. When you told me that my life was disreputable — ”

“Oh, Oswald, do not let us go back to that. What good will it do?”

“But you said so.”

“I think not.”

“I believe that that was your word — the harshest word that you could use in all the language.”

“I did not mean to be harsh. If I used it, I will beg your pardon. Only let there be an end of it. As we think so differently about life in general, it was better that we should not be married. But that is settled, and why should we go back to words that were spoken in haste, and whic............