In vain! Echoes from a life that he had tried to believe lived out thronged in his mind, and resounded there. Faces seemed to flash past him and voices to ring in his ears. All sorts of scenes vividly recurred to his mind: always he and she were together; always there was exquisite delight mingling with his pain, till he recalled the scene in which Frederick Spenceley had come scowling through the committee-room, in the great distress. It was after that that his life had become so intolerable to him. His thoughts wandered off to the Spenceleys in general. Of course he had heard of the great failure; of Mr. Spenceley’s suicide; of Fred’s dishonourable flight. What was the wretched fellow doing now? he wondered. And there had been others: a good, homely-looking mother, who seemed ill at ease under her greatness; and a daughter--he remembered her too--the most beautiful girl in Thanshope, so every one had said, and Myles also had been compelled to give her his meed of admiration when he saw her, day after day, working with Adrienne Blisset. He had often thought what a contrast they formed--like a beautiful crimson rose and a white violet: the one with her fair hair and delicate, pale face; the other with dusky locks and great dark eyes, the rich colour that came and went, the vivid life in every movement, the splendid attire. Yes, he remembered her--she was most beautiful; but to him a violet was more exquisite and precious than the most gorgeous rose, and it seemed other people shared the same opinion. CHAPTER II. ROSE OR VIOLET? Two days later, Myles took his way, in the evening, towards Herr Süsmeyer’s house. The travellers had arrived, he had heard, early in the forenoon. There had been a ceremonious _Mittagessen_, or midday dinner, at which different treasured friends of Herr Süsmeyer’s had been present--friends also of Sebastian in former days. Myles, too, had received a pressing invitation to be there; but, feeling that he would much rather descend of his own free will into the crater of Mount Vesuvius, and there spend the remainder of his natural life, than sit a long three hours (for German congratulatory dinners are not amongst the briefest of ceremonies) at Herr Süsmeyer’s table under the proposed circumstances, he had declined, on the plea that it was a very busy day at the works, and he could not possibly be spared before evening. At the evening meal (the _Abendbrod_), Herr Süsmeyer insisted that he should be present; and Myles, not quite sure, when it came to the point, that the last arrangement was not worse than the first, had perforce consented.