Theodora had her directions from Lady Elizabeth, and intended to make up for her misdeeds by most attentive care; but, on coming home, they found that Arthur had arrived, and gone to bed, so that nothing was in her power but to express more kind wishes and regrets than she could stay to hear or to answer in her extinguished voice.
Theodora was a good deal shocked, but also provoked, at having been put in the wrong. She felt as if she had sustained a defeat, and as if Violet would have an advantage over her for the future, managing her by her health, just as she ruled Arthur.
‘But I will not submit,’ thought Theodora. ‘I will not bear with interference, if not from Percy, certainly not from his deputy—a mere spoilt child, a very good child, but spoilt by her position, by John’s over-estimate of her, and by the deference exacted by her weakness and her engagingness. She has very sweet, winning ways, and I am very fond of her in reason, but it will be very good for her to see I can be kind to her without being her slave.’
In this mind Theodora went to sleep, but was wakened in the early morning by Arthur’s voice on the stairs, calling to Sarah. She threw on her dressing-gown, and half-opening her door, begged to know what was the matter.
‘Only that you have done for her with your freaks and your wilfulness,’ answered Arthur, roughly.
‘She is not ill?’ exclaimed the terrified sister.
‘Of course she is. I can’t think what possessed you.’
‘I tried hard to keep her at home. But, oh! Arthur, where are you going?’
‘To fetch Harding.’
‘Can I do anything? Can I be of use? Let me go to her. Oh! Arthur, pray let me.’
He went into the room, and brought back word that Violet wanted no one but Sarah, and was a little more comfortable; only begging Theodora would be so kind as to go to the nursery, lest little Johnnie should awake.
Thither she repaired, but without the satisfaction of usefulness, for the child slept soundly till his nurse returned. Mr. Harding had been there, and Mrs. Martindale was better, needing only complete quiet; but Sarah was extremely brief, scornful, and indignant, and bestowed very few words on Miss Martindale. ‘Yes, ma’am—no, ma’am,’ was all that hard pumping could extract, except funereal and mysterious sighs and shakes of the head, and a bustling about, that could only be understood to intimate that she wished to have her nursery to herself.
It was still so early that Theodora had time to go to church; as usual, she met the Brandons; and Lady Elizabeth, much concerned at her tidings, came home with her to see how the patient was going on.
Lady Elizabeth forbore to reproach Violet, but she lectured Arthur on allowing her to be imprudent. He took it in very good part, not quite disagreeing when told they were all too young together, and made a hearty protest that she should be well looked after for the future.
He was certainly doing his part. All the morning he was in and out, up and down stairs, effectually preventing any rest, as his sister thought.
Theodora’s time passed in strange variations of contrition, jealousy, and perverseness. She was hurt at his displeasure,—she was injured by her exclusion from Violet’s room,—she was wounded even by her little nephew, who cried down-stairs for mamma, and up-stairs for Sarah, and would not be content with her best endeavours to make him happy. And yet, when, after carefully looking to see that he could come to no harm, Sarah was obliged to place him on the floor and leave him for the first time alone with his father, he sat motionless, fixed in earnest, intent contemplation, like a sort of distant worship of him, keeping him likewise in a silent amused wonder, what would come next; and when it ended in a gravely, distinctly pronounced, ‘Papa!’ Arthur started as if it had been a jackdaw speaking, then picked up the little fellow in his arms and carried him off to show, as a natural curiosity, to his mother! At any other time, Theodora would have been charmed at the rare sight of Arthur fondling his little boy; now she only felt that nobody wanted her, and that she was deprived of even the dignity of a nursery-maid.
Her chief occupation was answering inquiries, and writing notes to decline their evening engagements—the dinner at Mrs. Delaval’s among the rest; for she and Arthur were equally resolved to remain at home that evening, and she wished to persuade herself that they were Violet’s friends, not her own.
In the midst, Mrs. Finch and Miss Gardner called, and in her state of irritation the smooth tongue of the latter was oil to the flame.
‘Poor thing, no doubt she thinks she has been making a heroic exertion. Well, she has her reward! It must be delightful to have caused such a sensation. Your brother is a most devoted husband.’
‘And did she really go because she would not trust you without her?’ said Mrs. Finch. ‘Well, that is a good joke!’
‘I think you must be glad they do not live at Brogden,’ quietly added Jane, in the midst of her sister’s laughter.
‘It has been put into her head,’ said Theodora, ‘that she ought to look after me, and a great mistake it is.’
‘Yes, you are not come here to be less free than last year, when Lord and Lady Martindale had you in their own hands, said Georgina. ‘If I were you I would do something strong all at once, and settle that matter. That was the way you used to dispose of the governesses.’
‘I am not quite what I was then, Georgina.’
‘But what is it that she objects to? I see,’ as Jane made a sign, as if to advise her not to inquire. ‘Is it to your coming out with me? Well! I declare, that is pretty well, considering who she was. I thought better things of her, with her soft voice, as if she was thankful to be spoken to, after all the notice I have taken of her.’
‘Hush, hush! I tell you, she would never have originated the notion, but it has been put into her, and when she thinks a thing right nothing will stop her.’
‘We will see that!’ said Georgina. ‘Come and dine with us to-night, and then we are going to “Der Freischutz”. Come—’
‘That is impossible, thank you. We have given up the dinner at the Delavals’, and I do not intend to go out in the evening any more. I came here to take care of her, and I mean to do so thoroughly.’
‘Not to go out any more!’ cried Georgina, horrified. ‘I honour Theodora,’ said Jane. ‘Such devotion is like her, and must win her brother’s gratitude.’
‘No devotion at all. I like a rational evening with her much better than a cram like last night’s.’
‘With her alone?’ said Jane, slyly.
Theodora crimsoned. Percy had instigated Violet’s opposition, and she was in no charity with him. Jane saw there was annoyance, and turned the subject before her sister could open on it. With all her quiet ways, Jane had the mastery over the impetuous Georgina, whom she apparently flattered and cherished as a younger sister, but in reality made subservient to her own purposes. Indeed, Jane was like the Geraldine of Christabel; without actually speaking evil she had the power of insinuating her own views, so that even the lofty and sincere nature of Theodora was not proof against her. Poor Violet! while she perilled herself, and sacrificed her friend’s good opinion, her sister’s mind was being hardened and poisoned against her.
‘I am afraid,’ said Jane, ‘that it is of no use then to talk to you of what Georgina and I have been planning.’
‘Oh! Theodora must come to that at any rate,’ cried Georgina, ‘or I will never forgive her nor Mrs. Martindale neither. Do you remember our old birthday treat to Richmond?’
‘To be sure I do!’ cried Theodora. ‘It was one of the most delightful days I ever had in my life. I have loved cowslips doubly for the treat the sight of them was, in the midst of London and masters, seven years ago. Why, you will be twenty-four next week, Georgina.’
‘Growing to an unmentionable age,’ said Georgina. ‘Well, I have set my heart on a picnic to Richmond again. Mark is to take a steamer for us, and I know of plenty of people who will make a charming party!’
‘I should like it better without the people,’ said Theodora.
‘Oh, nonsense; one can’t babble of green fields and run after cowslips, at our age, unless one is in love,’ said Georgina. ‘If you were going to bring your Percy, perhaps we would not interfere with your sweet rural felicity, my dear.’
‘We will bring some one else,’ said Jane. ‘After poor Mrs. Martindale had carried you off’, Theodora, I found the author of “Pausilippo” looking extremely disconsolate, and hinting to him that such a scheme was in agitation, and that you were included in it, he looked so eager, that he will be for ever beholden to Georgina for an invitation.’
‘Poor Lord St. Erme!’ said Georgina. ‘It really is a shame, Theodora. I rather take him under my protection. Shall he come, or shall he not?’
‘It makes no difference to me,’ said Theodora, coolly.
‘Whatever it does to him, eh?’
‘But, Georgina, you are not in the least secure of Theodora,’ said Jane, satirically. ‘She is devoted to Mrs. Martindale.’
‘If my sister-in-law is not well I shall not leave her, if she is, you may depend upon me.’
‘I shall do no such thing, whatever Georgina does,’ said Jane.
‘I am sure Mrs. Martindale has ways and means.’
‘I shall not stay without real reason.’
‘And bring the Captain,’ entreated Mrs. Finch.
‘Still more doubtful,’ suggested Jane.
‘Yes, I think you will not get him,’ said Theodora; ‘but I will certainly join you, provided Violet is not really ill.’
‘I am very good friends with that pretty sister of yours,’ said Jane. ‘I will call some day, and try to get her permission for him.’
‘Once—twice—you have failed us,’ said Mrs. Finch, rising to take leave. ‘This third time, and I shall believe it is some one else in the shape of Theodora Martindale.’
‘I will not fail,’ repeated Theodora.
They departed, and presently Arthur came down. ‘How long those women have been here! Have they been hatching treason? I want you to go up and sit with Violet; I am going out for an hour.’
It was a tame conclusion to the morning’s alarms when a brisk voice answered, ‘Come in,’ at her knock, and Violet lay very comfortably reading, her eyes bright and lively, and her cheeks with almost their own colour. Her sweet smile and grateful face chased away ill humour; and Theodora was so affectionate and agreeable as to surprise herself, and make her believe herself subject to the fascination Violet exercised over her brothers.
She told Arthur, on his return, that Violet was just ill enough to make waiting on her pretty pastime; but was something between alarmed and angry to find him still uneasy.
CHAPTER 16
Lord Percy sees my fall!
—Chevy Chase
Two days after, Miss Gardner calling, found Mrs. Martindale alone in the drawing-room, and pretty well again. The project for the party was now fully developed, and it was explained to Violet with regrets that she was unable to share it, and hopes that Theodora and her brother would not fail to join it.
‘Thank you, I believe Captain Martindale will be at Windsor; he will be on guard next week.’
‘Ah! that is provoking. He is so valuable at this kind of thing, and I am sure would enjoy it. He would meet some old schoolfellows. You must use your influence to prevent him from being lazy. Guardsmen can always get leave when they think it worth while.’
‘Perhaps if Theodora wishes to go, he may manage it; but I am afraid it is not likely that he will be able.’
‘You will trust us for taking care of our dear Theodora,’ said Miss Gardner; ‘we know she is rather high-spirited, and not very fond of control. I can quite enter into your feelings of responsibility, but from my knowledge of her character, I should say that any sense of restraint is most galling to her. But even if we have not the pleasure of Captain Martindale’s company, you may fully reckon on our watching over her, myself in especial, as a most dear younger sister.’
‘Is your party arranged?’ asked Violet.
‘Yes, I may say so. We hope for Mrs. Sedley and her daughters. Do you know them? Charming people whom we met in Paris.’
Violet was not acquainted with them, and tried to find out who were the rest. They seemed to be all young ladies, or giddy young wives, like Mrs. Finch herself, and two or three foreigners. Few were personally known to the Martindales; Lord St. Erme was the only gentleman of their own set; and Violet could not smile, as her visitor expected, on hearing how he had been enticed by hopes of meeting Miss Martindale.
Jane Gardner perceived the disapprobation. ‘Ah! well,—yes. One cannot but own that our dear Theodora’s spirits do now and then make her a little bit of a flirt. It is the way with all such girls, you know. I am sure it was with my sister, but, as in her case, marriage is the only cure. You need not be in the least uneasy, I assure you. All will right itself, though a good deal may go on that startles sober-minded people like us. I could condole with you on the charge, but you will find it the only way not to seem to thwart her. Violet thought it best to laugh, and talk of something else.
‘Then I depend on you for the cream of our party,’ said Miss Gardner, taking leave.
‘I cannot tell whether Captain Martindale can come,’ said Violet, somewhat bewildered by the conversation.
‘Is that girl a nonentity, or is she a deep genius?’ said Jane to herself as she walked home. ‘I cannot make her out. Now for the trial of power! If Theodora Martindale yields to the Fotheringhams now, and deserts Georgina, it will be a confirmation of all the absurd reports. As long as I have it to say the Martindale family are as intimate as ever, I have an answer for Lady Fotheringham, and if Mark is smitten with her, so much the better. I hope Percy Fotheringham may be properly rewarded for his presumption and ill-nature. The sooner they quarrel the better. I will send Theodora a note to put her on her mettle.’
The note arrived while Percy was spending the evening in Cadogan-place, and Theodora talking so happily that she grudged the interruption of opening and reading it.
‘DEAREST THEODORA,—One line further to secure you, though I told Mrs. Martindale of our plans. She would make no promises, but we reckon on your independence of action, at least. “Should auld acquaintance be forgot?”
‘Yours affectionately,
‘J. GARDNER.
‘P.S.—Mrs. Martindale looked very well. I hope she will have no recurrence of faintings.’
‘From Jane Gardner,’ said Theodora; ‘only to put me in mind of the picnic. Will you go, Arthur?’
‘I never was more glad to be on her Majesty’s service. What an abominable bore it would be!’
‘That is what gentlemen always say of picnics,’ said Theodora.
‘Not at all,’ said Percy. ‘A real country party of merry happy people, knowing each other well, and full of genuine honest glee, is one of the most enjoyable things that can be.’
‘That it is!’ cried Violet. ‘There was the day we went up Skiddaw, with no one but our cousins and Mr. Fanshawe, and dined on the mountain in sight of the valley of St. John; and the rain came on, and Mr. Fanshawe sat all the time holding an umbrella over Annette and the pigeon-pie.’
‘That was worth doing,’ said Percy; ‘but for a parcel of fine ladies and gentlemen to carry the airs and graces, follies and competitions, born in ball-rooms and nursed in soirees, out into pure country air and daylight, is an insult to the green fields and woods.’
‘That is a speech in character of author,’ said Theodora.
‘In character of rational being.’
‘Which you would not have made if the party had not been Georgina Finch’s.’
‘I had no notion whose it was, or anything about it.’
‘It is for her birthday, Tuesday,’ said Violet. ‘They are to have a steamer to Richmond, walk about and dine there; but I should not think that it would be very pleasant. Mrs. Bryanstone had one of these parties last year to Hampton Court, and she told me that unless they were well managed they were the most disagreeable things in the world; people always were losing each other, and getting into scrapes. She declared she never would have another.’
‘Mrs. Bryanstone has no idea of management,’ said Theodora.
‘I know who has less,’ said Arthur. ‘Your Georgina will let every one take their chance, and the worse predicaments people get into the louder she will laugh.’
‘There is nothing so intolerable as a woman who thinks herself too fashionable for good manners,’ said Percy.
‘Is any one waiting for an answer?’ asked Violet.
‘There is none,’ said Theodora. ‘They know I mean to go.’
‘To go!’ exclaimed all three, who had thought the question settled by Arthur’s refusal.
‘Yes, of course; I go with Georgina.’
‘With Mark Gardner, and the king of the clothes-brushes, and all their train, in moustaches and parti-coloured parasols!’ cried Percy. ‘Theodora, I thought you were a sensible woman.’
‘I am sorry if I forfeit that claim to your regard.’
‘Well, if I was your mother! However, it is devoutly to be hoped that it may rain.’
He then changed the conversation, and no more passed on this subject till, as he wished her good night, he said, in a low voice, ‘Think better of it, Theodora.’
‘My mind is made up,’ was the proud reply. In a few seconds he called Arthur to him on the stairs. ‘Arthur,’ he said, ‘if your sister is set on this wrong-headed scheme, at least don’t let her go with no one to look after her. Let her have some respectable person with her, merely for propriety’s sake. She fancies me prejudiced, and we have agreed to dispute no more on the woman’s goings on; but you have the keeping of her now.’
‘I wish Mrs. Finch was at Jericho, and Theodora after her!’ exclaimed Arthur, petulantly; ‘they will worry my wife to death between them.’
‘Then Theodora had better go home,’ said Percy, soberly.
‘No, no; we can’t do without her. She takes good care of Violet, and is very attentive and useful, and I can’t have Violet left alone. If we could but get her down off her high horse, and drive that impudent woman out of her head!—if you can’t, no one else can.’
‘It is very unfortunate,’ said Percy. ‘There is so much generous feeling and strong affection to prompt her resistance, that it is hard to oppose her, especially as I do believe there is no worse than folly and levity in this friend of hers. I wish these occasions would not arise. Left to herself these people would soon disgust her but for her own sake we must interfere, and that keeps up her partisanship.’
‘What is to be done?’ was Violet’s disconsolate beginning, as soon as she could see Arthur alone.
‘Take it easy’—words which she had taught herself to regard as a warning that she was doleful. ‘Never mind; if Theodora is so pig-headed as to rush into this scheme, it is no concern of yours. All you have to do is to take care not to be worried.’
Violet had regained a cheerful voice. ‘If you were going with her, it would not signify.’
‘It would signify pretty much to me to be bored with all that riff-raff. One would think Theodora bewitched.’
‘There is hardly any one of our acquaintance.’
‘No, the lady has dropped pretty much in the scale.’
‘I wish I knew what your father and mother would think of it.’
‘They would hate it as much as we do, but they could not prevent it. Nobody can stop Theodora when once she has the bit between her teeth. As I told Percy, if he can’t, ‘tis past all power. I wonder if he thinks by this time he has caught a Tartar?’
‘Did he call you to speak about it?’
‘Yes; to say I must by no means let her go without a respectable female to look after her.’
‘I don’t know these ladies; but if Mrs. Finch would ask Mrs. Bryanstone, she is so good-natured that I dare say she would go.’
‘That would be the most tolerable way of doing it; but I would lay you anything you please that nothing but unmitigated Finch will content her.’
‘And that is worse than no one.’
‘I wish some stop could be put to it. It is worse than Percy knows. She can’t speak to a man without flirting, and we shall have her turning some poor fellow’s head, like Wingfield’s. I don’t think it is respectable!’
‘It is very strange, so good and religious as she is.’
‘Where is the use of her religion if it does not bring down her pride or cure her obstinacy? If it would, I should see some good in the rout she makes about going to church and teaching dirty children.’
‘Oh! Arthur, dear, don’t say that.’
‘It is the truth, though.’
‘I think,’ said Violet, diffidently, ‘that some day the good will conquer the rest. Some day she will feel these things to be wrong and strive against them.’
‘Do you mean that she does not know it is wrong to be as wilful and proud as Lucifer?’
‘I do not think she knows she has those tendencies.’
Arthur laughed and shook his head. ‘One learns one’s faults as one grows older, you know,’ continued Violet, ‘and she is so very kind. Think of her giving up all going out in the evening to stay with me; and you don’t know how she waits on baby and me. She is so grand and noble, that kindness from her is delightful, and her face when it softens is so like you! Some book says that high natures have the most trouble with their faults.’
‘Then hers ought to be high indeed.’
Violet began the day by telling Arthur that his sister would go to make arrangements with Mrs. Finch, and asked him to tell her of their decision before he returned to Windsor that morning.
‘Our decision! What do you mean!’
‘Don’t you remember about Mrs. Bryanstone?’
‘Oh! if that is to be done, you must say it. Ladies must manage their own visiting affairs. I don’t understand chaperons and stuff.’
‘Arthur, you don’t mean me to speak?’
‘If it is to be done at all, it is woman’s work, and I see no use in it. She will toss her head, and only be more resolved on her own way.’
‘Oh, Arthur, one moment! Did you not say it ought to be done?’
‘Of course it ought; but it is of no use, and if you are wise, you will not tease yourself.’
‘But you said Percy insisted on it.’
‘So he did, but if he cannot tackle her himself, I am sure we can’t. I’ll have nothing to do with it—it is no affair of mine.’
‘Then, am I to let her alone?’
‘As you choose. I wish she would hear reason, but it is not worth bothering yourself for, when it is of no use.’
‘What do you wish me to do? I wish I knew—’
He shut the door behind him, and Violet tried to recover from her dismay. Thankful would she have been for commands not to interfere; but to be left to her own judgment was terrible when she knew that his true opinion coincided with hers. How could she hope to prevail, or not to forfeit the much-prized affection that seemed almost reluctantly to be at last bestowed?
But, cost what it might, Violet never swerved from a duty, and her mind was clear that to permit Theodora to join the party alone without remonstrance, and without the knowledge of her parents, would be improper. She resolved not to confuse herself with fears and anxieties, and strove to dwell on whatever could steady or calm her mind for the undertaking. How wide a difference in moral courage there was between that tall grenadier and his timid delicate wife.
Arthur and Theodora were both down-stairs before her, and the latter was preparing breakfast, when there was a knock. ‘Percy!’ she thought. ‘He shall see how useless it is to interfere!’
‘Mr. Albert Moss!’
Arthur threw aside his newspaper, and held out his hand with a fair show of welcome. ‘Ha! Moss, how are you? Your sister will be down-stairs directly. Miss Martindale—’
Theodora was resolved against being supercilious, but Mr. Moss’s intention of shaking hands obliged her to assert her dignity by a princess-like inclination.
‘Good morning,’ said Albert. ‘I came to town yesterday—slept at my uncle’s—have this day in London—much occupied—thought myself sure of you at breakfast.’
‘I will tell Mrs. Martindale,’ said Theodora, glad to escape that she might freely uplift her eyes at his self-sufficiency, and let her pity for Arthur exhale safely on the stairs.
She met Violet, and was vexed at her start of joy, only consoling herself by thinking that she did not look as if she was his sister. Indeed, after the momentary instinct of gladness, came fears lest Arthur might not be pleased, and Theodora be annoyed; but the familiar home-like voice drove away all except pleasure as soon as she was certified that her husband’s brow was smooth. His presence was a restraint, keeping Albert on his best behaviour, so that there was nothing to disturb her present enjoyment of home tidings. That good-humour and ease of his were indeed valuable ingredients of comfort.
He asked Albert to dinner, and desired him to bring Uncle Christopher, if they chose to be entertained by the ladies alone, further offering him a seat in his cab as far as their roads lay together. Highly gratified, Albert proceeded to ask his sister whether she was able to execute a commission for Matilda, the matching of a piece of chenille. Violet readily undertook it, and he said, ‘he would explain the occasion on his return.’
When they were gone, the cares of the morning returned upon her, and by the time her household affairs were finished, all her pulses were throbbing at the prospect of the effort to which she was nerving herself. She ordered herself to be quiet, and lay down on the sofa, leaving the door open that Theodora might not go out without her knowledge.
‘It is my duty,’ repeated she to herself. ‘If I turn from it because it is so dreadful to me, I shall not take up my cross! If she will only listen and not be angry!’
Nearly an hour passed, the day seeming to grow warmer and more oppressive, and a nervous headache coming on. Poor Violet! she was still a frightened child, and when she saw Theodora coming down with her bonnet on, the fluttering of her heart made her call so feeble that Theodora supposed her ill, and came to her with kind solicitude that rendered it still harder to say what she knew would be taken as an affront.
With great difficulty she uttered the words, ‘I only wanted to speak to you about this expedition to Richmond.’
‘Well,’ said Theodora, smiling with what was meant for good-humour, but was only scorn, ‘you need not distress yourself, my dear, I am ready to hear.’
‘Would you get Mrs. Finch to ask Mrs. Bryanstone, and go with her?’ Violet could really speak at no more length.
‘It would be folly. Mrs. Bryanstone would be out of her element, and only a nuisance to herself and every one else. That will do. You have discharged your conscience.’
‘It is not myself alone,’ said Violet, sitting up, and gathering force to speak firmly and collectedly, but with her hand on her heart. ‘Your brother and I both think it is not right, nor what Lord and Lady Martindale would approve, that you should join this party without some one they know and like.’
You mistake, Violet. This is not like a ball. There is no absurd conventionality, tacking a spinster to a married woman.’
‘No, but since. Arthur cannot be with you, it is needful to take measures to prevent any awkwardness for you.’
‘Thank you. I’ll take care of that.’
‘Dear Theodora, I did not mean to vex you; but will you only put yourself in our place for one moment. Your father and mother let you stay here on the understanding that you go out with us, and when we cannot go, do you think we ought to see you put yourself under the escort of a person to whom we believe they would object?’
‘I have told you that I know what my own father and mother permit.’
Violet was silent, and pressed her hand on her brow, feeling as if all her prepared arguments and resolutions were chased away by the cool disregard which seemed to annihilate them even in her own eyes. By an effort, however, she cleared her mind, conjured back her steadiness, and spoke, preserving her voice with difficulty from being plaintive. ‘You may know what they permit you, but we owe them duties too. Theodora, if you will not take some one with you whom we know they would approve, we must write and ask what Lord Martindale would wish.’
‘Arthur will never write,’ said Theodora, in defiance; but the answer took her by surprise—‘If he does not, I shall.’
‘If there is to be such a rout, I will not go at all.’
‘Indeed I think it would be the best plan,’ said Violet, removing the hand that had been hiding the springing tears, to look up beseechingly, and see whether the project were resigned, and herself spared the letter which she well knew would be left to her lot.
But for those wistful eyes, Theodora would have felt caught in her own trap; for such speeches had often brought governess, mother, and even aunt, to humble entreaties that she would take her own course. She had to recollect her words before she perceived that she had yielded, and that she must abide by them. Anything was better than the humiliation of Violets sending home complaints of her conduct. She was greatly incensed; but a glance at the gentle, imploring face, and the hands trying in vain not to tremble with nervousness, could not but turn away her wrath. It was impossible to manifest displeasure; but to speak a word of concession seemed still more impossible. She impetuously threw off her bonnet, seized a pen, dashed off a few lines, and tossed the note and its envelope into Violet’s lap, saying, in her low voice of proud submission, ‘There! you will send it,’ and left the room. Violet read
‘MY DEAR GEORGINA,—My brother is engaged at Windsor, and I cannot join your party to Richmond.
‘Yours sincerely,
‘TH. A. MARTINDALE.
‘Mrs. Martindale is pretty well, thank you.’
Violet almost expected Theodora’s next note would announce her return home. She had been forced to give up all the affection so slowly gained, and to wound her proud sister-in-law where she was most sensitive. Should she hold Theodora to this renunciation, and send the note she had extorted, or should she once more ask whether this was in earnest, and beg her to reconsider the alternative?
But Violet was convinced that Theodora intended to hear no more about the matter, and that nothing would be such an offence as to be supposed to have acted hastily. She was afraid of renewing the subject, lest her weakness should lose her what she had gained. ‘Better,’ thought she, ‘that Theodora should think me presumptuous and troublesome than that she should mix herself up with these people, and, perhaps, displease Percy for ever. But, oh! if I could but have done it without vexing her, and to-day, too, when she has to bear with Albert.’