Heartsease or Brother's Wife

by Шарлотта Мэри Йондж

  At this juncture Theodora discovered, from the sounds in the other room, how much Violet had suffered from her effort, and her compassion was instantly excited. 'I must go and nurse her. She meant to do right, and I honour the real goodness. I am no petted child, to be cross because I have lost a pleasure.'

  So she took exemplary care of Violet, read aloud, warded off noises, bribed the brass band at the other side of the square, went up to see why Johnnie was crying, carried up her luncheon, waited on her assiduously, and succeeded so well, that by the time the carriage came round, the head was in a condition to be mended by fresh air.

  Mere driving out was one of Theodora's aversions. If she did not ride, she had district visiting and schooling; but to-day she went with Violet, because she thought her unfit to be tired by Matilda's commission. It proved no sinecure. The west-end workshops had not the right article; and, after trying them, Theodora pronounced that Violet must drive about in the hot streets no longer. One turn in the park, and she would set her down, and go herself into the city, if necessary, to match the pattern.

  And this from Theodora, who detested fancy work, despised what she called 'dabblers in silk and wool,' and hated the sight of a Berlin shop!

  Violet would not have allowed it; but Theodora threw her determination into the scale, resolved to make herself feel generous and forgiving, and not above taking any trouble to save Violet. So off she set, and was gone so long that Violet had a long rest, and came down-stairs, much revived, to welcome her brother.

  Albert arrived alone. Uncle Christopher was engaged, and had charged him with his excuses, for which Violet was sorry, as he was an unpretending, sensible man, to whom she had trusted for keeping her brother in order; but Albert was of a different opinion. 'No harm,' he said. 'It was very good-natured of Martindale, but he is a queer old chap, who might not go down so well in high life,' and he surveyed his own elegant toilette.

  'We get on very well,' said Violet, quietly.

  'Besides,' added Albert, attempting bashfulness, 'I have a piece of intelligence, which being slightly personal, I should prefer--you understand.'

  Violet was prepared by her sister's letters for the news that Albert was engaged to Miss Louisa Davis, very pretty, 'highly accomplished,' and an heiress, being the daughter of a considerable county banker--a match superior to what Albert could have expected. They had been engaged for the last fortnight, but he bad not allowed his sisters to mention it, because he was coming to London, and wished to have the pleasure of himself communicating the intelligence. Violet was much flattered; she who used to be nobody to be thus selected! and she threw herself into all the home feelings. The wedding was fixed for the beginning of July, and this first made her remember the gulf between her and her family.

  Seven o'clock was long past when Theodora entered, arrayed in rich blue silk and black lace, put on that Violet's brother might see she meant to do him honour; and so Violet understood it, but saw that he was only contrasting it with her own quiet-coloured muslin.

  Here ended Violet's comfort. Albert was so much elated that she was afraid every moment of his doing something mal-a-propos. Theodora was resolved to be gracious, and make conversation, which so added to his self-satisfaction, that Violet's work was to repress his familiarity. At dinner, she made Theodora take Arthur's place, and called her Miss Martindale, otherwise she believed it would be Theodora the next moment with him, and thus she lost all appearance of ease. She was shy for her brother, and when he said anything she did not like, tried to colour it rightly; but she was weary and languid, and wanted spirit to control the conversation.

  'So, Violet, Fanshawe's appointment was a pretty little bit of patronage of yours; but the ladies of Wrangerton will never forgive you. They were going to get up a subscription to give him a piece of plate.'

  'O, yes! and he desired them to send the money to the "Society for the Propagation of the Gospel,"' said Violet. 'Annette mentioned it.'

  'I suppose it depends on Mr. Martindale. whether he makes a good thing of it in Barbuda,' said Albert; but the gov--' at a dismayed look from her, he turned it into 'My father is much obliged to you for getting him out of the way. The girls were so taken up with him one hardly knew whether something might not come of it; and really a poor curate--after the manner in which some of the family have connected themselves.'

  The ladies were sorry for each other--one ashamed and one amused, neither venturing to look up, and Albert had no opportunity for the bow he intended for Miss Martindale.

  'By the bye,' continued he, 'who is this Fotheringham that was to settle with Fanshawe? I thought he was Lord Martindale's solicitor; but my uncle knows nothing about him.'

  Violet coloured crimson, and wished herself under the table; Theodora made violent efforts to keep from an explosion of laughing.

  'No,' said Violet, rather indignantly; 'he is--he is--he is--' she faltered, not knowing how to describe one so nearly a relation, 'a great friend of--'

  Theodora having strangled the laugh, came to her rescue, and replied, with complete self-possession, 'His sister, who died, was engaged to my eldest brother.'

  'Oh! I beg your pardon. You look on him as a sort of family connection. I suppose, then, he is one of the Fotheringhams of Worthbourne? Matilda fancied he was the literary man of that name; but that could not be.'

  'Why not?' said Theodora, extremely diverted.

  'A poet, an author! I beg your pardon; but a lady alone could suppose one of that description could be employed in a practical matter. Is not it Shakespeare who speaks of the poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling? Eh, Violet? I shall never forget the gove--my father's indignation when he detected your humble servant in the act of attempting a slight tribute to the Muses. I believe the old gentleman looked on my fate as sealed.'

  'Albert!' said Violet, feeling as if she must stop his mouth, 'you are quite mistaken. Mr. Fotheringham does belong to the family you mean, and he did write "The Track of the Crusaders". He has been attached to the embassy in Turkey, and is waiting for another appointment.' Then, looking at Theodora, 'You never told me how far you went to-day.'

  Theodora detailed her long pursuit of the chenille, and her successful discovery of it at last. Albert's gratitude was extreme; his sister would be delighted and flattered, the work would receive an additional value in the eyes of all, and he might well say so, he was a party concerned, the material was for a waistcoat, to be worn on an occasion--but his sister would explain.

  Violet thought he had exposed himself quite enough; and as dessert was on the table, she rose with as good a smile as she could, saying, 'Very well, I'll explain; you will find your way to the drawing- room,' and retreated.

  Theodora caressingly drew her arm into hers, much pleased with her, and accepting her as entirely Martindale, and not at all Moss. 'What! is he going to be married in it?'

  'Yes, that is what he meant.'

  'I hope you are satisfied.'

  'O yes, I never saw her; but they are all very much pleased.'

  'Now tell me frankly, which do you like? Shall I leave you at peace with him, or will he think it rude in me?'

  Violet decided in favour of Theodora's absence till tea-time. Alone she had enjoyed Albert, but the toil of watching his manners was too much.

  'Then I'll come down and make the tea.'

  'Thank you, dear Theodora. It is so kind. I hope it will not be very disagreeable. And one thing--could you tell him how well I really am, except for to-day's headache, or he will go and take home another bad account of me.'

  'Your head is worse again. There, I'll fetch some lavender, and do you lie still and rest it till he comes.'

  He soon came.

  'Well, Miss Martindale is a fine young lady, upon my word. Real high blood and no mistake. And not so high in her manner after all, when one knows how to deal with her.'

  'She is very kind to me.'

  'And how long does she stay?'

  'O, for some time longer. Till August, most likely.'


  'Why, she will get the command of your house altogether.'

  'I am very glad to have her here.'

  'Ah!' said Albert, looking confidential, 'you do right to be prudent, but you may trust me, and I should be glad to know that it is more comfortable than last year.'

  'It never was otherwise,' said Violet.

  'I hope so,' said Albert; 'I honour your prudence, and, after all, you have a handsome establishment,--capital dinners, good turnout. I only wish I could see you look in better spirits.'

  Violet started forward and coloured. 'Albert, don't take up fancies. I am perfectly happy, and you must believe it. They all pet and spoil me with kindness. If you think me looking poorly to-day it is only from a headache, which Miss Martindale has been nursing so carefully and tenderly.'

  'Well, you cannot be too cautious if you are to stand well with the family. You do well to be on your guard. Martindale only the second son, and the elder may marry any day. That was one thing I thought I ought to speak to you about. You really should try to get some settlement made on you. You have nothing to depend upon, and, you see, you cannot expect anything from home.'

  'Do not talk about such things.'

  'You must not be childish, Violet; I am come as your best friend to give you advice. You ought to consider what would become of you if you were left with a family of young children, connected as you are. You depend entirely on one life, and you must not reckon on us, as you MUST see.'

  'I see,' said Violet, only wanting him to cease.

  'Then you perceive I have your real interest in view when I tell you it is your duty to use what influence you have to get some provision made.'

  'Don't go on, Albert. As my marriage was brought about, it would be improper in me to do anything of the kind.'

  'I only wished you to see what you have to trust to. Ah! by the bye, there's the old aunt. Have not you expectations from her?'

  'No; she was so much offended at our marriage that there is no likelihood of her doing anything for us.'

  'Bless me! That's a bad case! But you have been staying there. Can't a pretty engaging thing like you manage to come round the old lady and get into her good graces?'

  'Albert! don't talk so.'

  'Really, Violet, it is time to give up being a silly child. You ought not to throw away your true interests, or the time will come when you will be sorry, and remember what I said; but you are not to depend on me.'

  'No,' said Violet, and scalding tears arose, 'I do not. You need not be afraid. I have a brother who will take care of me and mine.'

  'John Martindale?'

  'Yes.'

  'Well, you know your own ground. I thought it my duty to warn you, and I hope you will take care to make the most of yourself--it will never do to let yourself seem of no importance, and be overcrowed by this haughty young lady.'

  Violet nearly laughed, but the next speech was too much for her patience. 'And you are satisfied at Martindale being so much from home?'

  'He must be while his regiment is at Windsor;' and she rang for tea, and sent a message to summon Miss Martindale, feeling her presence her only protection.

  Her head ached so much that she was obliged to lie on the sofa and let things take their chance, and Theodora's attempt to represent her in good health only appeared like blindness and indifference. Albert was much enchanted with Miss Martindale, and made himself more ridiculous, until it was a great satisfaction to his sister to see him depart.

  'He always comes on unlucky days!' she said. 'I wish I could have made it go off better. Thank you for taking all the trouble.'

  'No trouble at all,' said Theodora, kindly. 'I am sorry you had so much to tire you in the morning. Now, come up to your room. I wish I could carry you, as Arthur does.'

  She put her arm round her, helped her tenderly up the stairs, and came in several times to her room to see that she was comfortable. At the last good night, Violet whispered, 'Dear Theodora, don't think my sisters like this--'

  'I'll judge them from you, my dear little sister.'

  'And you forgive me?'

  'To be sure I do. You did as you thought right.' Strange to say, Theodora had more sympathy for Violet after this awkward evening.

  In the middle of the following day, Violet and little Johnnie were together in the drawing-room, when Arthur came in, 'Well, how are you? I am only here for two hours, but I wanted to know how you are getting on.'

  'Very well indeed, thank you.'

  'Theodora sticks to her flight of Finches, I suppose?'

  'She has been so kind! she has given it up.'

  You don't mean it. I thought she was ready to go through fire and water!' cried Arthur, incredulously.

  'She has written to refuse.'

  'What, Percy brought her to reason?'

  'No, he has not been here, but I suppose his opinion influenced her.'

  'What in the name of wonder prevailed! I never saw her turn when once she had taken up a notion.'

  'I believe it was that I said you or I must write to her father, and ask what he wished.'

  'So that settled her! Ha! Well done! Theodora forced to give up her will, and by you! Well, that is the best thing I have heard a long time. My little Violet to have got the upper hand of Miss Martindale!' and Arthur burst into such a fit of triumphant laughter as to quite discomfort Violet, but little Johnnie by her side on the sofa, catching the infection of merriment, gave, what was very unusual with him, a regular shout of baby fun, and went on laughing in ecstasy that set Arthur off on a fresh score. 'So! young man, you think it very funny that mamma has been too much for Aunt Theodora?'

  Theodora could not have chosen a more unlucky moment for walking into the room! However, it must remain uncertain whether she had heard. The visible consequence of the late air was exemplary attention to Violet's comfort; and that doubt, so often balanced in her sister's mind, whether she loved Percy, now inclined to the affirmative, for there was a concealed disquietude at his totally absenting himself from Cadogan-place. They did not see him again till the very day of the picnic, when, as they were driving in the park, the exclamation-- 'There he is! broke from her, and then she leant back, vexed at having betrayed her joy.

  He came to speak to them with such an open beaming look of gratification as Violet trusted was a recompense, but Theodora chose to keep an unmoved countenance; and it was only Violet's happy congratulating face that assured him that all was right and the Richmond scheme resigned.

  She asked him to dinner for that day, and he gladly accepted; but Theodora, considering it a sugar-plum to console her for staying at home, behaved as if it was a matter of indifference.

  Violet took care to leave them alone, and she began the subject herself. 'You find me here to-day, Percy, but it is no proof that I am convinced.'

  'It shows, as I hoped, that your good sense would prevail when left to itself.'

  'No, it was Violet.'

  'I honour her and you more than I ever did before.'

  'That's your way,' said Theodora, with the bright smile that was an act of oblivion for all her waywardness. 'All you value is a slave with no will of her own.'

  'One who has a will, but knows how to resign it.'

  'That you may have the victory.'

  'No, but that you may be greater than he that taketh a city.'

  Theodora raised her eyes much softened. She never liked Percy so well as when he made these direct attacks on her faults in general; when it came to a combat over the individual questions, it was a different matter.

  'I am very glad you have given this up,' Percy proceeded. 'It is a positive relief to my mind to find that you can yield. Do not be ashamed of it, it is the best thing you have done a long time.'

  'But, Percy, I did not do it on principle; I did it because Violet would have written to papa.'

  'There's the true sort of spirit! Brave enough to confront even you for the right, yet yielding her own will and wish at the first moment. I think more highly of Mrs. Ma
rtindale the more I hear of her.'

  'And you wish me to be like her ?' said Theodora, watching for the blunt negative.

  'No, but to see you what you might and ought to be. It is repeating what I told you when this first began. You have a noble nature, but you will not check yourself, will not control your pride; you cannot bear any attempt to curb you. You are proud of it; but I tell you, Theodora, it is not high spirit, it is absolute sinful temper. If no one else will tell you so, I must.'

  Theodora bent her head and cast down her eyes, not in sullenness, but in sorrow. 'It is true,' she murmured; 'I see it sometimes, and it frightens me.'

  'I know,' he said, much moved, 'the sense of right must conquer; but, indeed, Theodora, it is time to begin, that it may not be some evil consequence that subdues you.' He opened "The Baptistery" as it lay on the table, and pointed to the sentence--'If thou refusest the cross sent thee by an angel, the devil will impose on thee a heavier weight.'

  Theodora looked up in his face; the words were applied in a sense new to her. 'Are humility and submission my cross?' said she.

  'If you would only so regard them, you would find the secret of peace. If you would only tame yourself before trouble is sent to tame you! But there, I have said what I felt it my duty to say; let us dwell on it no longer.'

  The large tears, however, fell so fast, that he could not bear to have caused them, and presently she said, 'You are right, Percy, I am proud and violent. I have grown up fearfully untamed. No one ever checked me but you, and that is the reason I look up to you beyond all others.'

  The lioness was subdued, and the rest of the evening there was a gentleness and sober tone about her that made her truly charming: and a softer sense of happiness was around her when she awoke the next morning, making her feel convinced that this was indeed the only real peace and gladness.

  CHAPTER 17

  Call me false, or call me free, Vow, whatever light may shine, No man on your face shall see Any grief for change of mine. E. B. BROWNING (The Lady's Yes)