Heartsease; Or, The Brother's Wife Part 61

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 ill.u.s.tration for Watts's Hymns, Theodora.'

'Poor little creature!' said Violet, horrified. 'What will become of him?'

'He is doing justice to the patronage of the G.o.ddess of wisdom,' said Percy. 'He is as sharp as a needle, and gets on in the world--has discarded "conveying," and promoted himself to selling lucifers.'

'A happy family theirs will be,' said Arthur. 'Cat, owl, and two rival pages!'

So, having duly admired all, curious books, potteries, red and black, tiles and lachrymatories, coins, sc.r.a.ps of ancient armour, a stuffed bee-eater, and the bottled remains of a green lizard that had been a pet at Constantinople--and having been instructed in the difference between various Eastern modes of writing--the merry visit closed; and as the two sisters went home they planned a suit of clothes for the owl's provider, Theodora stipulating for all the hard and unusual needlework.

CHAPTER 13

I am ashamed that women are so simple To offer war when they should kneel for peace, Or seek the rule, supremacy, and sway, When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.

--Taming of the Shrew

It was an early season, and Theodora had not been a fortnight at her brother's before numerous arrivals necessitated a round of visits, to which she submitted without more than moderate grumbling. The first call was on the Rickworth ladies; but it was not a propitious moment, for other visitors were in the drawing-room, and among them Miss Marstone.

Emma came to sit by Violet, and was very anxious to hear whether she had not become intimate with Theresa. Violet could not give a good account of herself in this respect; their hours did not suit, and they had only twice met.

'And is she not delightful?'

'She is a very superior person' said Violet, looking down. 'Do you know her sisters? I liked one of them.'

'We shall have to call on them, but they are mere ordinary girls--no companions to Theresa. She laments it very much, and has had to make a line for herself. I must come and tell you about it some morning. It is nonsense to meet in this way and think of conversation.

Theodora had, in the meantime, had the exclusive attention of Miss Marstone. 'So Emma is constant to the Prae-Raffaelite,' said Theodora, as they drove from the door. 'What is all this about the Priory?'

'Did Miss Marstone talk about that?' said Violet, aghast.

'She said something about a restoration. What! is it a secret?'

'I suppose she thought you must know it, since I did. I was much surprised by her beginning about it to me, for when Emma first mentioned it to me, Lady Elizabeth seemed vexed, and begged me never to hint at it.'

'So Emma wants to make rest.i.tution. Well done, little Emma! I did not think it was in her.'

'It has been her darling scheme for years; but Lady Elizabeth has made her promise to wait till she is five-and-twenty, and not to consider herself pledged.'

'How like Lady Elizabeth! One respects her like an inst.i.tution! I hope Emma may hold out, but she has a firebrand in her counsels. I am glad you are not infatuated.'

'I am sure I don't know what I think of Miss Marstone. I cannot like her; yet I want to admire her--she is so good.'

'Let her be as good as she pleases; why should she be silly?'

'Oh! she is very clever.'

'When good and clever people are silly, they are the biggest simpletons of all.'

'Then I don't think I quite know what you mean by silliness.'

'Not turning one's sense to the best advantage, I suppose,' said Theodora. 'That Miss Marstone provokes me. If her principles were not right I should not care; but when she has sound views, to see her go on talking, with no reserve, only caring for what is out of the way, it makes one feel oneself turned to ridicule. How can Lady Elizabeth endure it?'

'I don't think she likes it, but Emma is so fond of her!'

'Oh! as to Emma, her poor little imagination is dazzled. It is providential that she has four years to wait! Unless, indeed, there is a reaction, and she marries either a broken-down fox-hunter or a popular preacher.'

Violet's horrified protests were cut short by the carriage stopping. In returning, they called at Mrs. Finch's house, to inquire when the family were expected to return from Paris. They had arrived that morning, and Violet said she would make a short visit, and then go home and send the carriage back, but Theodora preferred walking home.

As they were announced, Mrs. Finch started up from a gilded sofa on which she had been reclining, reading a French brochure. Her dress was in the excess of the newest Parisian fashion, such as even to London eyes looked outre, and, as well as her hair, had the disordered look of being just off a journey. Her face had a worn aspect, and the colour looked fixed. Theodora, always either rigidly simple or appropriately splendid, did not like Violet to see her friend in such a condition, and could almost have shrunk from the eager greeting. 'Theodora Martindale!

This is delightful! It is a real charity to look in on us to-day! Mrs.

Martindale, how are you? You look better than last time I saw you. Let me introduce you to Mr. Finch.'

Mr. Finch was a little dried-up man, whose ceremonious bow put Violet in mind of the Mayor of Wrangerton. Bending low, he politely gave her a chair, and then subsided into oblivion; while Miss Gardner came forward, as usual, the same trim, quiet, easy-mannered person, and began to talk to Violet, while Mrs. Finch was loudly conversing with Theodora.

The apartment was much in the same style as the lady's dress, full of gilding and bright colour, expensive, but not producing a good effect; especially as the sofa had been dragged forward to the fire, and travelling gear and newspapers lay about untidily. Altogether there was something unsatisfactory to the feelings of both Theodora and Violet, though Mrs. Finch was very affectionate in her impetuous way, and Miss Gardner gently kind to Violet, asking many questions about her little boy.

Violet soon took leave, and Mr. Finch went down with her to the carriage.

'That is a fresh complexion that does one good to see!' cried Mrs.

Finch, when she was gone. 'I am glad to see her in better looks and spirits.'

'She understands the art of dress,' said Miss Gardner. Theodora was on the point of making a sharp answer. It was the consequence of having once allowed her brother's wife to be freely canva.s.sed, and she was glad that an opening door checked the conversation.

There entered a tall fashionable-looking man, with a glossy brown moustache, and a very hairy chin, but of prepossessing and gentlemanlike appearance. He leant over the sofa, and said a few words in a low voice to Mrs. Finch, who answered with nods, and a display of her white teeth in smiles. Raising himself, as if to go, he said, 'Ah! by the bye, who is that pretty friend of yours that I met Finch escorting down-stairs? A most uncommon style of beauty--'

'That was Mrs. Martindale,' said Miss Gardner, rather in haste.

'Arthur Martindale's village maid? Ha! Jane, there's jealousy; I thought you told me--'