Heartsease or Brother's Wife

by Шарлотта Мэри Йондж

  As soon as the tedious dinner was over, Arthur insisted on her going at once to bed, without listening to her entreaties that, as it was Theodora's first evening, she might lie on the sofa and hear them talk. She turned back at the door to tell Theodora that there was a new review on the table, with something in it she would like to read, and then let Arthur take her up-stairs.

  'Ah!' thought Theodora, 'tormenting him about the child does not suffice--she must be ill herself! It is even beyond what I expected. When she had brought him home she might have let him have his evening in peace; but I suppose she is displeased at my coming, and won't let him stay with me. She will keep him in attendance all the evening, so I may as well see what books she has got. "The West Indies"; "The Crusaders"--of course! "Geoffroi de Villechardouin"--Percy's name in it. Where's this review? Some puff, I suppose. Yes, now if I was a silly young lady, how much I should make of Percy because he has made a good hit, and is a literary lion; but he shall see the world makes no difference to me. I thought the book good in manuscript; and all the critics in the country won't make me think a bit better of it or of its author. However, I'll just see what nonsense they talk till she chooses to release Arthur.'

  What would have been her displeasure if she had known that Arthur was lingering up-stairs giving his wife a ludicrous version of her adventure with Mr. Wingfield!

  After a time the drawing-room door opened, but she did not heed it, meaning to be distant and indifferent; but a browner, harder hand than Arthur's was put down on the book before her, and an unexpected voice said, 'Detected!'

  'Percy! Oh, how are you?' she exclaimed.

  'I am very glad you are come; I came to inquire at the door, and they told me that you were here. How is she, poor thing?'

  'She is gone to bed; Arthur thinks her knocked up.'

  'It is well he is come; I was much concerned at her being alone yesterday. So little Johnnie is better?'

  'Like Mother Hubbard's dog.'

  'The croup is no joke,' said Percy, gravely.

  'Then you think there was really something in it?'

  'Why, what do you mean? Do you think it was humbug?'

  'Not at all; but it was such a terrific account, and alarmed poor Arthur so much, that it gave one rather a revulsion of feeling to hear her laughing.'

  'I am very glad she could laugh.'

  'Well, but don't you think, Percy, that innocently, perhaps, she magnified a little alarm?'

  'You would not speak of little alarms if you had seen Harding this morning. I met him just coming away after a fearful night. The child was in the utmost danger, but his mother's calmness and presence of mind never failed. But I'll say no more, for the sound wholesome atmosphere of this house must cure you of your prejudices.'

  Arthur came down dispirited; and Percy, who had thought him an indifferent father, was pleased with him, and set himself to cheer his spirits, seconded by Theodora, who was really penitent.

  She could not be at peace with herself till she had made some amends; and when she had wished her brother good night, found her way to the nursery, where her old friend Sarah sat, keeping solemn watch over the little cot by the fire. One of her sepulchral whispers assured the aunt that he was doing nicely, but the thin white little face, and spare hand and arm, grieved Theodora's heart, and with no incredulity she listened to Sarah's description of the poor little fellow's troubles and sweet unconscious patience, and that perfect trust in his mother that always soothed and quieted him. It appeared that many nights had been spent in broken rest, and for the last two neither mother nor nurse had undressed. Sarah was extremely concerned for her mistress, who, she said, was far from strong, and she feared would be made as ill as she was last year, and if so, nothing could save her. This made Theodora feel as if she had been positively cruel, and she was the more bent on reparation. She told Sarah she must be over-tired, and was told, as if it was a satisfactory answer, that Mrs. Martindale had wished her to go to bed at six this morning. However, her eyes looked extinguished, and Theodora, by the fascinating manner she often exercised with inferiors, at last persuaded her to lie down in her clothes, and leave her to keep watch.

  It was comfortable to hear the deep breathings of the weary servant, and to sit by that little cot, sensible of being for once of substantial use, and meaning that no one ever should know it. But she was again disconcerted; for the stairs creaked, the door was softly opened, and Arthur stood on the threshold. The colour mantled into her face, as if she had been doing wrong.

  'The poor maid is worn out; I am come for the first part of the night,' she said, in a would-be cold whisper. But his smile and low- toned 'Thank you,' were so different from all she had ever known from him, that she could hardly maintain her attempt at impassibility.

  'I thought Violet would sleep better for the last news,' said he, kneeling on one knee to look at the child, his face so softened and thoughtful that it was hardly like the same; but recovering, he gave a broad careless smile, together with a sigh: 'Little monkey,' he said, 'he gets hold of one somehow--I wish he may have got through it. Theodora, I hope you will have no alarms. Violet will take it very kind of you.'

  'Oh, don't tell her.'

  'Good night,' and he leaned over her and kissed her forehead, in a grave grateful way that brought the tears into her eyes as he silently departed.

  Her vigil was full of thoughts, and not unprofitable ones. Her best feelings were stirred up, and she could not see Arthur, in this new light, without tenderness untainted by jealousy. Percy had brought her to a sense of her injustice--this was the small end of the wedge, and the discovery of the real state of things was another blow. While watching the placid sleep of the child, it was not easy to harden herself against its mother; and after that first relenting and acknowledgment, the flood of honest warm strong feeling was in a way to burst the barrier of haughtiness, and carry her on further than she by any means anticipated. The baby slept quietly, and the clock had struck two before his first turn on the pillow wakened Sarah, though a thunder-clap would not have broken her slumber. She was at his cradle before he had opened his eyes, and feeding and fondling hushed his weak cry before it had disturbed his mother. Theodora went to her room on good terms with herself.

  She had never allowed late hours to prevent her from going to the early service, and as she left her room prepared for it, she met Violet coming out of the nursery. Theodora for once did not attempt to disguise her warmth of heart, and eagerly asked for the little boy.

  'Quite comfortable--almost merry,' answered Violet, and taking the hand stretched out in a very different way from the formal touch with which it usually paid its morning greeting, and raising her eyes with her gentle earnest look, she said, 'Dear Theodora, I am afraid you don't like it, but you must let me this once thank you.'

  Theodora's face was such that Violet ventured to kiss her, then found an arm round her neck, and a warm kiss in return. Theodora ran down- stairs, thinking it a discovery that there was more beauty in those eyes than merely soft brown colour and long black lashes. It was a long time since her heart had been so light. It was as if a cold hard weight was removed. That one softening had been an inexpressible relief, and when she had thrown aside the black veil that had shrouded her view, everything looked so bright and sweet that she could hardly understand it.

  The whole scene was new. She had been seldom from home, and only as a visitor in great houses, whither Lady Martindale carried formality; and she had never known the charm of ease in a small family. Here it would have been far more hard to support her cold solitary dignity than in the 'high baronial pride' of Martindale. She was pleased to see how well Arthur looked as master of the house, and both he and his wife were so much delighted to make her welcome now that she would allow them, that it seemed extraordinary that a year and three quarters had passed without her ever having entered their house. Violet was, she owned, a caressing, amiable, lovable creature, needing to be guarded and petted, and she laid herself open to the pleas
ure of having something to make much of and patronize.

  After breakfast, Violet installed her in the back drawing-room, promising that she should there be entirely free from interruption, but she had no desire to shut herself up; she was eager to see little Johnnie, and did not scruple to confess it. He was their chief bond of union, and if she was charmed with him now, when feeble and ailing, how much more as he recovered. Even at his best, he was extremely delicate, very small, thin, and fair, so that face and arms, as well as flaxen hair, were all as white as his frock, and were only enlivened by his dark eyes. He was backward in strength, but almost too forward in intelligence; grave and serious, seldom laughing, and often inclined to be fretful, altogether requiring the most anxious care, but exceedingly engaging and affectionate, and already showing patience and obedience to his mother that was almost affecting. Their mutual fondness was beautiful, and Theodora honoured it when she saw that the tenderness was judicious, obviating whines, but enforcing obedience even when it was pain and grief to cross the weakly child.

  Moreover, Theodora was satisfied by finding that she had diligently kept up the Sunday-school teaching of the little Brogden maid; and as to her household management, Theodora set herself to learn it; and soon began to theorize and devise grand plans of economy, which she wanted Violet to put in practice at once, and when told they would not suit Arthur, complacently answered, 'That would not be her hindrance.'

  Violet wrote to John that if he could see Theodora and Percy now, he would be completely satisfied as to their attachment and chances of happiness.

  CHAPTER 12

  I saw her hold Earl Percy at the point With lustier maintenance than I did look for Of such an ungrown warrior.--King Henry IV

  As soon as Violet could leave her little boy without anxiety, the two sisters deposited Charles Layton at the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, with hopes that a few years' training there would enable him to become Miss Martindale's little page, the grand object of his desires.

  Their next and merriest excursion was to Percy's lodgings, where he had various Greek curiosities which he wished to show them; and Theodora consented to come with her brother and sister in a simple straightforward way that Violet admired.

  His rooms were over a toy-shop in Piccadilly, in such a roar of sounds that the ladies exclaimed, and Arthur asked him how much he paid for noise.

  'It is worth having,' said Percy; 'it is cheerful.'

  'Do you think so?' exclaimed Violet. 'I think carriages, especially late at night, make a most dismal dreary sound.'

  'They remind me of an essay of Miss Talbot's where she speaks of her companions hastening home from the feast of empty shells,' said Theodora.

  'Ay! those are your West-end carriages,' said Percy; 'I will allow them a dreary dissatisfied sound. Now mine are honest, business-like market-waggons, or hearty tradesfolk coming home in cabs from treating their children to the play. There is sense in those! I go to sleep thinking what drops of various natures make up the roar of that great human cataract, and wake up dreaming of the Rhine falls.

  "Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, And a river flows down the vale of Cheapside."

  Eh, Mrs. Martindale?'

  Violet, who always received a quotation of Wordsworth as a compliment to the north, smiled and answered, 'I am afraid with me it would end in

  "The stream will not flow, the hill will not rise."'

  'Pish, Violet,' said her husband, 'how can you expect to feel like poets and lovers? And halloo! he is coming it strong! "Poems by A."; "The White Hind and other Poems"; "Gwyneth: a tale in verse"; "Farewell to Pausilippo", by the Earl of St. Erme. Well done, Percy! Are you collecting original serenades for Theodora? I'll never betray where they came from.'

  'It is all in the way of trade,' said Percy.

  'Reviewing?' said Theodora.

  'Yes; there has been such an absurd amount of flattery bestowed on them that it must provoke any reasonable being. It really is time to put forth a little common sense, since the magazines will have it that earls write better than other people.'

  'Some of the verses in Lord St. Erme's last volume seem to me very pretty,' said Violet.

  'There, she is taking up the cudgels for her countryman,' said Arthur, always pleased when she put herself forward.

  'Which do you mean?' said Percy, turning on her incredulously.

  'I like those about the Bay of Naples,' she answered.

  'You do not mean these?' and he read them in so good-humoured a tone that no one could be vexed, but marking every inconsistent simile and word tortured out of its meaning, and throwing in notes and comments on the unfaithfulness of the description.

  'There! it would do as well for the Bay of Naples as for the farm- yard at Martindale--all water and smoke.'

  Arthur and Theodora laughed, but Violet stood her ground, blushingly but resolutely.

  'Anything so read would sound ill,' she said. 'I dare say it is all right about the faults, but some parts seem to me very pretty. This stanza, about the fishermen's boats at night, like sparks upon the water, is one I like, because it is what John once described to me.'

  'You are right, Mrs. Martindale,' said Percy, reading a second time the lines to which she alluded. 'They do recall the evening scene; Mount Vesuvius and its brooding cloud, and the trails of phosphoric light upon the sea. I mark these for approval. But have you anything to say for this Address to the Mediterranean?'

  He did not this time mar the poem in the reading, and it was not needed, the compound words and twisted epithets were so extravagant that no one gainsaid Arthur's sentence, 'Stilts and bladders!'

  'And all that abuse of the savage north is unpardonable,' said Theodora. 'Sluggish torpid minds, indeed, frozen by skies bound in mist belts! If he would stay at home and mind his own business, he would not have time to talk such nonsense.'

  'Now,' said the still undaunted Violet, when the torrent of unsparing jest had expended itself, 'now it is my turn. Let me show you one short piece. This--"To L."'

  It was an address evidently to his orphan sister, very beautiful and simple; and speaking so touchingly of their loneliness together and dependence on each other, that Mr. Fotheringham was overcome, and fairly broke down in the reading--to the dismay of Violet, who had little thought his feelings so easily excited.

  'Think of the man going and publishing it,' said Theodora. 'If I was Lady Lucy, I should not care a rush for it now.'

  'That is what you get by belonging to a poet,' said Arthur. 'He wears his heart outside.'

  'This came straight from the heart, at least,' said Percy. 'It is good, very good. I am glad you showed it to me. It would never do not to be candid. I will turn him over again.'

  'Well done, councillor,' cried Arthur. 'She has gained a verdict for him.'

  'Modified the sentence, and given me some re-writing to do,' said Percy. 'I cannot let him off; the more good there is in him, the more it is incumbent on some one to slash him. Authors are like spaniels, et cetera.'

  'Hear, hear, Theodora!' cried Arthur. 'See there, he has the stick ready, I declare.'

  For in truth Arthur would hardly have been so patient of hearing so much poetry, if it had not been for the delight he always took in seeing his wife's opinion sought by a clever man, and he was glad to turn for amusement to Percy's curiosities. Over the mantel-piece there was a sort of trophy in imitation of the title-page to Robinson Crusoe, a thick hooked stick set up saltire-wise with the green umbrella, and between them a yataghan, supporting a scarlet blue- tasselled Greek cap. Percy took down the stick, and gave it into Theodora's hand, saying, 'It has been my companion over half Europe and Asia; I cut it at--'

  'By the well of St. Keyne?' suggested the malicious brother.

  'No, at the source of the Scamander,' said Percy. It served us in good stead when we got into the desert of Engaddi.'

  'Oh! was that when the robbers broke into John's tent?' exclaimed Violet. 'Surely you had some better weapon?'

  'Not
I; the poor rogues were not worth wasting good powder on, and a good English drubbing was a much newer and more effective experiment. I was thenceforth known by the name of Grandfather of Clubs, and Brown always manoeuvred me into sleeping across the entrance of the tent. I do believe we should have left him entombed in the desert sands, if John's dressing-case had been lost!'

  'What a capital likeness of John,' said Theodora. 'Mamma would be quite jealous of it.'

  'It belonged to my sister,' said Percy. 'He got it done by an Italian, who has made him rather theatrically melancholy; but it is a good picture, and like John when he looked more young-mannish and sentimental than he does now.'

  A hiss and cluck made Violet start. In a dark corner, shrouded by the curtain, sat Pallas Athene, the owl of the Parthenon, winking at the light, and testifying great disapproval of Arthur, though when her master took her on his finger, she drew herself up and elevated her pretty little feathery horns with satisfaction, and did not even object to his holding her to a great tabby cat belonging to the landlady, but which was most at home on the hearth-rug of the good- natured lodger.

  'I always read my compositions to them,' said Percy. 'Pallas acts sapient judge to admiration, and Puss never commits herself, applauding only her own music--like other critics. We reserve our hisses for others.'

  'How do you feed the owl, Percy?'

  'A small boy provides her with sparrows and mice for sixpence a dozen. I doubted whether it was cruelty to animals, but decided that it was diverting the spirit of the chase to objects more legitimate than pocket-handkerchiefs.'

  'Ho! so there you seek your proteges!'

  'He sought me. I seized him fishing in my pocket. I found he had no belongings, and that his most commodious lodging-house was one of the huge worn-out boilers near Nine-Elms--an illustration for Watts's Hymns, Theodora.'