Heartsease; Or, The Brother's Wife Part 116

'Another who is consoled!' thought she. 'Humiliating, indeed, it is to see such complete cures. There is no need to be absurd and conscious at this meeting! But here I do, indeed, need forgiveness--how my heart aches to ask it--his mere pardon for my offences! If I could only have it out with him without compromising womanly proprieties! That can't be; I must bear it!'

On the stairs she heard Helen's voice. 'He came yesterday, to the evening dinner, but I don't like him.'

'Why not?' asked Percy.

'Because he says I am just like Aunt Theodora, and I am not.'

Theodora knew whom she meant. Lord St. Erme had been much struck by her little niece's resemblance, and Helen resented the comparison as an indignity to her beauty. She felt extremely annoyed at Percy's hearing this; then recollected it did not signify to him, and entered just as he was telling little Miss Vanity that she was the silliest child he had ever the honour of meeting.

There was some constraint, on her part, in the short conversation on Arthur's health that ensued, before he went up; and he only returned to the drawing-room for a moment, to a.s.sure her that he thought Arthur much better than when he had last seen him.

'He avoids me! he cannot endure me!' she thought, and yet she felt doubly averse to the idea of returning to Brogden.

Lord Martindale came in with a look of expectation on his face which grieved Theodora, for she knew her refusal would be a disappointment to him. He sent the children away, paused for her to begin, and at last asked: 'Well, my dear, has Lord St. Erme been here?'

'Yes papa;' and it was plain enough how it had been. Lord Martindale sighed. The rest being equal, it was not in human nature not to prefer an Earl to an almost penniless author. 'I would not urge you on any account,' he said; 'but I wish it could have been otherwise.'

'So do I, most heartily,' said Theodora.

'It is very different now,' said Lord Martindale. Four years ago I could hardly have wished it. Now, I think most highly of him, and I should have been rejoiced to have seen his constancy rewarded.'

'I am ashamed and grieved,' said Theodora. 'He did, indeed, deserve better things. He is a n.o.ble character; and I cannot honour or esteem him enough, nor sufficiently regret the way I treated him. But, indeed, papa, it would not be right. I cannot help it.'

'Well, there is no more to be said,' sighed Lord Martindale. 'I know you will do right.'

Something was won since her former dismissal of the Earl! Her father gave her a look full of confidence and affection; and made happy by it, she rallied her spirits and said, 'Besides, what a pair it would be! We should be taken for a pretty little under-graduate and his mother!'

'That will not last, my dear,' said Lord Martindale, vexed though smiling at her droll manner. 'You are younger than he.'

'In years, but not in mind,' said Theodora. 'No, no, papa; you have me for life, and it is hard you should be so anxious to get rid of me!'

'I only wish to consult your happiness, my dear child.'

'And that always was in fancying myself necessary,' said Theodora, gaily, though there was a trembling in her voice; and when she went up to her own room, she hid her face in her hands, and felt as if life was very dreary and uninteresting, and as if it was a miserable exile to be sent into the country just now, to have to force cheerful conversation for her mother, and to be wearied with Helen's wild spirits. 'But have I not deserved everything? And after my brother has been spared so far, how can I repine at any selfish trouble?'

CHAPTER 12

Herself, almost heartbroken now, Was bent to take the vestal vow, And shroud, within St. Hilda's gloom, Her wasted hopes and withered bloom.

--SCOTT

Violet, when called to consult with her father-in-law in the outer room, felt a sort of blank apprehension and consternation at the idea of being separated from her children; and a moment's reflection satisfied her that in one case at least she might rightly follow the dictates of her own heart. She said that she thought Johnnie could not be spared by his papa.

Lord Martindale's eye followed hers, and through the half-closed door saw Johnnie, sitting on the bed, reading to his father, who listened with amused, though languid attention.

'I believe you are right,' he said; 'though I wish I had the boy in the country doing no lessons. He puts me more in mind of his uncle every day.'

'One of the highest compliments Johnnie has ever had,' said Violet, colouring with pleasure; 'but I am afraid to trust him away from me and Mr. Harding in the winter because of his croup.'

'Ah! then it cannot be,' he answered; 'and I do not think I would take him from his father now, but his sisters must come; they would be too much for you without Theodora.'

Violet could only be mournfully thankful, and the project was in time laid before Arthur.

'Send my little girls away!' said he, looking discomfited. 'Oh! if you wish to keep them'--joyfully exclaimed Violet.

'I thought that if Theodora went home, Violet would hardly be able to manage them,' said Lord Martindale.

'If they are in her way,' said Arthur, and his eyes smiled at her, knowing what her decision would be.

'Oh! no, no! It was their grandpapa's kindness.' Johnnie and Helen here peeped into the room; Arthur beckoned to them, and said, 'How should you like to go into the country with Aunt Theodora?'

'To see grandmamma and the peac.o.c.k?' said Lord Martindale. Johnnie clung to his mother's hand, piteously whispering, 'Oh! don't send me away, mamma--I would try to bear it if I ought.'

Helen climbed the bed, and st.u.r.dily seated herself close to her papa.

'I shall not desert my father and mother,' said she, with great dignity, drawing up her head.

'No more you shall, my little heroine!' said Arthur, throwing his arm round her, while she glanced with saucy triumph at her grandfather.

In the silence of night, when Arthur was alone with his father, he said, 'If those little girls go away now, they will never remember me.'

To this plea there could be no reply; for though the danger was no longer imminent, it was still extremely doubtful whether he would ever leave his room again.

His wish to keep the children made Lord Martindale reconsider of sending Theodora home, and he desired Violet to choose between her and himself.

She thought Theodora the most effective, and Arthur seemed to prefer her remaining, so that she found herself disposed of according to her wishes, her father only stipulating that she should not neglect rest, air, or exercise, of which she stood in evident need.

Every one observed her haggard looks on the day when they met for the baptism of 'Arthur Fotheringham.' It was a melancholy christening, without the presence of either parent; and so all the little party felt it, and yet, if they could have seen into the recesses of the mother's heart, they would have found there were causes which made this baptism day better to her than any of the former ones.

The G.o.dfather came afterwards to see Arthur, who believed him more than all the doctors when he a.s.sured him he was making progress. Arthur began to speak of the debt; he wished before his father went to have a settlement of accounts, take steps for selling his commission, and repaying Percy.

'No,' said Percy, 'wait till you are better and can look about you.

Sell your commission indeed, and take the bread out of your children's mouths! No, if you did choose to do that, it must in honour and justice be divided among all your creditors.'

Arthur was forced to give up.

Emma Brandon had not joined the christening party. Miss Marstone had actually written to Mark Gardner, and had in reply received an acknowledgment of her 'good offices, which had gone far to enable him to justify the bets that before Christmas he would have a wife with ten thousand pounds a year!' He did not quite venture to insult Miss Brandon, but sent her a cool message of farewell. The rest of the letter, the friends declared, was evidently by Mrs. Finch's dictation.

They shut themselves up together; Lady Elizabeth was not allowed to help her daughter, and came to Cadogan-place chiefly that she might talk over her troubles with Theodora, who put her into communication with Percy, and from him she heard a brief sketch of Mr. Gardner's life and adventures, still less disposing her to desire him as a son-in-law.

She was certainly safe from this danger, but her cares were not thus ended. If Emma would have shared her griefs with her, and admitted her attempts at consolation, she would have been more at ease, but as it was, Emma was reserved with her, and attached herself solely to Theresa Marstone, whom she even made a sort of interpreter between her and her mother, so that Lady Elizabeth only knew as much of her mind as her confidante chose to communicate.

Not only was this most painful to her feelings as a mother, but she had serious doubts of the safety of such a companion. The extreme silliness of Theresa's vanity and exclusiveness had long been visible, and as it was the young lady's fashion to imagine the defect anywhere but in her own judgment, there were symptoms of the mischief having been by her attributed to the Church of England. As if to console herself for the shock she had sustained, she was turning to a new fancy, for when a woman once begins to live upon excitement, she will seek for the intoxication anywhere.

This perception made Lady Elizabeth resolve that as long as she was mistress of Rickworth, she would not again invite Miss Marstone thither; while Emma was equally determined not to go home without her only friend. Thus the mother and daughter lingered on in London, Theresa often coming to spend the day with Emma, and Lady Elizabeth having recourse to the Martindale family, and trying to make herself of use by amusing the children, sitting in Arthur's room, or taking Theodora for a walk or drive.

One morning she came in to say that Emma was going to drive to Islington to call upon Miss Marstone, who had gone two days previously to stay with some friends there, and to beg that Theodora would accompany her. Aware that it would be as great a penance to Emma as to herself, Theodora would fain have been excused, but let herself be overruled on Lady Elizabeth's promise to supply her place at home, and a.s.surance that it would be a positive relief that she should be of the party, even if she did not get out of the carriage, as a check upon the length of time Emma would spend with her friend.