Heartsease; Or, The Brother's Wife Part 82

'This will never do,' he said, laying his hand on his sister's arm, and drawing her away almost by force: 'You MUST keep quiet, Violet.'

'I will, indeed, but please, Theodora--'

'She pleases all you wish. Never mind,' said Arthur, fairly putting her out, then stepping back, 'Lie still, and mind your big baby; that is all you have to do.'

'Only don't let her be vexed.'

'No such thing.'

But when out of Violet's hearing he could not refrain from telling Theodora his displeasure. 'I thought you had more sense, or I would never have let you in.'

'I knew nothing of it.'

'Your own fault for marching off at that time in the morning! I had been up to tell you, and could not think where you were.'

'Why was I not allowed to be of use?'

'A pretty specimen of your usefulness, vexing her with your black looks, till she was talking herself into a fever!'

'Surely she is doing well?'

'She was, unless you have undone everything with your humours.'

'I don't know what you mean.'

That was the last word. Theodora sat swelling under the sense of injustice and neglect, where she had intended to be so important; and Arthur was weary enough in mind and body to be more than usually sensible of her ungraciousness, and to miss the refreshment of cheerful sympathy. On going up after breakfast he found Violet weaker and more ill than he had previously thought her, and her solicitous inquiries about his sister made him the more attribute this to distress at those moody looks. He would not hear of again admitting Theodora, and in bitterness of spirit she wrote the letters, and tried to content Johnnie--all in vain; for strive to conceal it as she would, he always seemed to perceive her bad moods, and never would be happy with her when she was in one of them.

Every hour brought fresh mortification. She was jealous of Arthur's being needful to the patient, and jealous of being left by him; angry at being treated as useless, and angry at the work she had to do; certain that her ill temper was Arthur's fancy, yet certain he had caused it; anxious about Violet, yet disdaining his anxiety. She was much annoyed at his keeping aloof from her unpleasing looks, deserting the dinner-table after the first course, and when she had waited long for him, leaving her to discover that he had had a cup of tea in Violet's room, and was gone down to smoke. The kindly affections that had always been the hope of her character were rejected and thwarted, and thus thrown back on herself, the wayward wilful spirit began to rise.

She paced the dull walk in the square gardens in the summer twilight, and thought of the life before her, uncherished at home, an intruder in the family where she had expected to earn fond grat.i.tude, rejected by him who had loved her from childhood!

There was an alternative! One look of encouragement, and Lord St. Erme was at her disposal, ready to rejoice at acceptance, even if she should tell him that she had no heart to bestow. She would be no longer spurned and cast aside; she should be able to befriend Violet, she would live uncontrolled, adored; above all, she would teach Percy Fotheringham that she did not pine for him! She would belie those foolish tears that Violet had seen her shed!

As she opened the gate to leave the gardens, Lord St. Erme rode by with a young lady. Was he pa.s.sing from her power? The spirit of rivalry prompted a gracious bow and smile. He checked his horse, looked delighted, and introduced 'his sister.'

A fair, delicate, blushing girl of sixteen, a pretty likeness of himself, bent her head low, and Theodora felt that her blue eyes were intently perusing her under their downcast lids, while the brother's tones almost trembled with the pleasure of her unwonted look of encouragement. He said that he was enjoying having his sister alone with him, at his aunt's house in London, for a short time, and added something about calling. She gave one of her bewitching smiles, and they rode on.

There at least she was prized! How unlike this to the treatment she met with from her own family! If she could not love the Earl, she could do very well without that nonsense; and she should escape from her unloving home, begin a new life, reign queen o'er herself and him, idolized, uncontradicted, with ample opportunities of usefulness, triumphant over him who had disdained her.

So she mused while taking off her bonnet, till Sarah brought a message that Mrs. Martindale would be glad to see her. An hour ago and she would have rejoiced; now, Arthur's household was becoming a secondary object, since they had rejected her, and driven her to seek fresh interests.

She was received with hands outstretched. 'Dear Theodora, thank you.

Will you stay and take care of baby and me while nurse goes to supper?'

'If I may.'

'Thank you. Nurse, pray give baby to Miss Martindale. You need not hurry; I shall be so comfortable.'

The sweet pale face and languid eyes were as a charm to expel all but kindly thoughts, as Theodora sat down with the living weight warm on her lap, and the gentle mother at intervals softly asking about her boy.

'Poor little man, they would not let him come in: they kept away both the people I wanted.'

'Arthur guards you most jealously.'

'Yes, is not he a wonderful nurse? I had to exercise a little self-will in getting you here. How good we must be to make him forgive us!'

Next. 'You cannot think what a difference it makes to have you here. I never need think about Arthur's being made comfortable.'

Theodora's sincerity longed for confession, and she refrained with difficulty. Those unconscious words set her vile temper before her in its true light. She had resented the being treated with consideration, and had been moody towards her brother, because he was under anxiety!

Self-convicted, she gave a deep sigh; but fearing again to distress Violet, began to admire the baby, who was in truth a remarkably large and handsome child, very dark and like the Martindales, and, both in size and serenity, such a contrast to her brother, that, proud as she was of her, her mamma only half liked praise of her that might be depreciation of him, and began to defend him from the charge of crying before he had had strength for it.

Her name, of course, was to be Helen, and to this Violet softly added, Theodora.

'No, no; that will bring her no good. It is Aunt Nesbit's name.'

'It is one I love the sound of.'

'You won't another time.'

Violet vaguely perceived something amiss; but too weak to think about it, closed her eyes and fell into a doze.

Those few gentle sayings had brought back Theodora's affection and sense of right. She longed to recall her glance. If it had taken effect she must persevere. She could not endure the humiliation of having a third time trifled with a lover; she would not feel herself sunk into a mere coquette. But what would Violet think!

Violet suddenly awoke with a terrified gaze. 'Arthur! Arthur! O, where is he!'

'Down-stairs, dearest; he will come.' But to her extreme alarm, the words had no effect.

'Arthur! O, when will he come? Why did he go away?'

Dismayed out of all presence of mind, Theodora rang with a violent peal, and flew down-stairs, the baby in her arms, rousing Arthur from a slumber in his chair by breathless tidings that Violet was worse--was delirious; Mr. Harding must be sent for--

When Arthur had hurried up-stairs, it proved to be only a frightened wakening, such as had often happened last year. She was perfectly conscious, but so much fluttered and agitated by Theodora's own proceedings, that it was with great difficulty that Arthur could soothe and tranquillize her on her baby's account. The nurse was very angry, and Theodora perceived her delinquency might have serious consequences, especially when she beheld Violet, still tremulous from the alarm, endeavouring to rea.s.sure them, to shield her from displeasure, and to take all the blame to herself for her foolish terror.

There was an end of Theodora's grand designs of nursing! She could only enter the room at all by favour of the patient and by sufferance of the nurse; and she could attempt no remonstrance when ordered off by her brother, and even felt unworthy of Violet's kiss.

That little scene of trivialities had been her first true humiliation.

It had shown her the vanity of her boast of strength of mind; for when she thought of the morning's unreasonable ill-humour, and unkindness to her brother and his wife at such a moment, and of the coquetry with Lord St. Erme, she was indeed lowered in her own eyes; and it was sorrow, not bitterness.

Her heart was very heavy, but less hard. Slowly had the power of Violet's meekness and lowliness been stealing into her affections and undermining her pride. Perhaps the direct attacks of Percy, though strongly resisted, had in reality given a shock which prepared the way for the silent effect of sweetness and forbearance. At any rate, she was now sincerely sorry for the sin as well as the folly of the past day, and felt that it might bring a penalty in perplexities about Lord St.

Erme, if he had really taken her smile for encouragement.

Many were her resolutions of amiability for to-morrow; but she was disappointed. Violet had pa.s.sed a restless night, and could not be visited; and Arthur, after his experience of yesterday, was in no haste to subject himself to his sister's humours. Her two years of caprice and neglect had told even on his easy temper.

It had long been a scheme of hers to surprise Violet on her recovery with a likeness of Johnnie, taken by a small, humble niece of Mrs.

Harrison's, lately started in life as an artist in crayons; and in the midst of yesterday's sullenness she had taken measures which this morning brought the lady to Cadogan-place, at the hour when he was most likely to be in his best looks. Sarah, highly approving of anything that exalted Master John, sedulously traced the one-sided masculine division in his flaxen locks, and tied his best white frock with scarlet ribbons, in honour, as she said, of his being 'a little granny-dear'; and Theodora carried him down, and heard him p.r.o.nounced 'a lovely interesting darling.'

Sitting well was not, however, one of his perfections; he could not be induced to show his face to a stranger, and turned from toys and pictures, with arms stretched out to his aunt, and piteous calls for mamma: to Theodora's further despair Arthur came in, and stood amazed, so that she had to unfold her plans, and beg him to keep the secret. He smiled, saying she might as well take a picture of a washed-out doll; but that Violet would be sure to like it.