Heartsease; Or, The Brother's Wife

‘Don’t I look like an insane gipsy?’ said she, looking up, and tossing back the locks that hung over her face.

‘Can I do anything to help you?’

‘Thank you; sit down, and I’ll put all this black stuff out of the way,’ said Theodora, grasping her hair with the action of the Tragic Muse. ‘I’ll put it up in every-day fashion. I wish you would tell me what you do to yours to get it into those pretty plaits.’

‘I could show you in a minute; but as it is rather late, perhaps you would not dislike my trying to put it up for you.’

‘Thank you—no, pray don’t; you will tire yourself.’ But it was spoken with none of the old disdain, and left an opening for coaxing.

‘I used to be thought a good hand with my sisters’ hair. It will be such a treat if you will only let me try,’ said she, emboldened to stroke the raven tresses, and then take the comb, while Theodora yielded, well pleased. ‘On condition you give me a lesson to-morrow. I am not to be maid-ridden all my life,’ and it ended with ‘Thank you! That is comfortable. You came in my utmost need. I am only ashamed of having troubled you.’

‘Don’t say so. I am so much obliged to you for letting me try. It is more like being at home with you,’ murmured Violet, turning away; but her voice as well as the glass betrayed her tearful eyes, and Theodora’s sensation was a reward for her pride having slumbered and allowed her to accept a service.

Mr. Fotheringham came to dinner that he might go with them to the party. As they were drinking coffee before setting out, Mrs. Finch’s invitation was mentioned.

‘You had better leave your card for her, Percy,’ said Theodora. He made no answer.

‘Will you dine with us first and go?’ said Violet.

Thank you; I do not mean to visit them.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Theodora. ‘They are connections!’

‘The more cause for avoiding them.’

‘I have promised to introduce you.’

‘I am afraid you reckoned without your host.’

‘Ha!’ cried Arthur, ‘the lion is grown coquettish with fine feeding. He is not easy of leading.’

‘She is my greatest friend,’ said Theodora, as if it was conclusive; but Percy only answered, I should be very sorry to believe so,’ set down his cup, and began to read the paper. She was the more irritated. ‘Percy,’ she said, ‘do you really not intend to go to the party!’

‘Certainly not.’

‘Not to visit a relation of your own, and my most intimate friend, when it is my especial desire?’

‘You do not know what you are talking of,’ he answered, without raising his eyes.

‘Percy!’ exclaimed Theodora, her pride and affection so mortified that she forgot that Arthur was looking on with mischievous glee, ‘have you any reason for this neglect?’

‘Of course I have,’ said he, reading on.

‘Then let me hear it.’

‘You force it from me, Theodora,’ said Percy, laying down the paper: ‘it is because I will not enter into any intercourse I can avoid with persons whose conduct I disapprove.’

Violet coloured and shrank closer to her husband. Theodora’s face and neck turned almost crimson, and her eyes sparkled, but her voice only showed unmoved disdain. ‘Remember, she is my FRIEND.’

‘You do not know her history, or you would not call her so.’

‘I do. What is there to be ashamed of?’

‘I see, you know nothing of the prior attachment,’ said Percy, not without anger at her pertinacity.

‘A boy and girl liking that had been long past.’

‘O it had, had it?’ said Percy, ironically. ‘So you approve her marrying an old rogue and miser, who had heaped up his hoards by extortion of wretched Indians and Spaniards, the very scum of Mammon, coming to the top like everything detestable?’

‘I never heard his money was ill-gotten.’

‘Those who spend don’t ask whence gold comes. And you justify her keeping the old love, this cousin, dangling about her house all the winter till she is the talk of Paris!’

‘I don’t believe gossip.’

‘Can you deny that he is in London in her train?’

‘He has come into some property, and means to turn over a new leaf.’

‘Ay, and a worse leaf than before.’

‘How can you judge of his resolutions?’

Arthur laughed, saying, ‘I’d not bet much on Mark Gardner’s.’

Much to Violet’s relief, the carriage was announced; the gentlemen walked, and Theodora talked of indifferent matters fast and gaily. Percy handed Mrs. Martindale out, and gave her his arm, leaving Theodora to her brother.

It was a small select party, almost every one known to Theodora; and she was soon in eager conversation at some distance from Violet, who was sorry for Percy, as he stood in silence beside her own chair, vexation apparent on his honest face.

‘Who is that talking to Theodora?’ he presently asked. It was a small light-complexioned gentleman, whose head and face, and the whole style of his dress and person, might have made him appear a boy of seventeen, but for a pale moustache and tuft on the chin. Theodora looked very animated, and his face was glowing with the pleasure of her notice.

‘I cannot tell,’ said Violet; ‘there is Arthur, ask him.’

Percy was moving towards Arthur, when he was caught by the master of the house, and set to talk to the Oriental in his own language. Violet had never been so impressed by his talents as while listening to his fluent conversation in the foreign tongue, making the stranger look delighted and amused, and giving the English audience lively interpretations, which put them into ready communication with the wonder at whom they had hitherto looked in awkwardness. Theodora did not come near the group, nor seem to perceive Violet’s entreating glances; and when the Eastern prince departed, Percy had also disappeared. Violet was gratified by the ladies around her descanting on his book and his Syriac, and wished Theodora could hear them.

At that moment she found Theodora close to her, presenting Lord St. Erme to Mrs. Arthur Martindale! After so much dislike to that little insignificant light man for being the means of vexing Percy, to find him the poet hero, the feudal vision of nobility, the Lord of Wrangerton! What an adventure for her mother to hear of!

It was a pleasant and rather pretty face when seen near, with very good blue eyes, and an air of great taste and refinement, and the voice was very agreeable, as he asked some question about the Eastern prince. Violet hardly knew what she answered.

‘I met him yesterday, but it was flat,’ he said. ‘They had a man there whose Syriac was only learnt from books, and who could not understand him. The interpreter to-night was far more au-fait—very clever he seemed. Who was he?’

‘Mr. Fotheringham,’ said Theodora.

‘The Crusader? Was it, indeed?’ said Lord St. Erme, eagerly. ‘Is he here? I wish particularly to make his acquaintance.’

‘I believe he is gone,’ said Violet, pitying the unconscious victim, and at once amused, provoked, and embarrassed.

‘You know him?’

Violet marvelled at the composure of Theodora’s reply. ‘Yes, my eldest brother was his travelling companion.’

‘Is it possible? Your brother the “M” of the book?’ exclaimed the young Earl, with enthusiastic delight and interest. ‘I never guessed it! I must read it again for the sake of meeting him.’

‘You often do meet him there,’ said Theodora, ‘as my sister can testify. She was helping him to revise it last summer at Ventnor.’

‘I envy you!’ cried Lord St. Erme; ‘to go through such a book with such a companion was honour indeed!’

‘It was delightful,’ said Violet.

‘Those are such delicious descriptions,’ proceeded he. ‘Do you remember the scene where he describes the crusading camp at Constantinople? It is the perfection of language—places the whole before you—carries you into the spirit of the time. It is a Tasso unconscious of his powers, borne along by his innate poetry;’ then pausing, ‘surely you admire it, Miss Martindale?’

‘O, yes,’ said Theodora, annoyed at feeling a blush arising. The Earl seemed sensible of a check, and changed his tone to a sober and rather timid one, as he inquired after Mr. Martindale. The reply was left to Violet.

‘He has never been so well in his life. He is extremely busy, and much enjoys the beauty of the place.’

‘I suppose it is very pretty,’ said Lord St. Erme.

‘Nothing can be more lovely than the colour of the sea, and the wonderful foliage, and the clearness. He says all lovers of fine scenery ought to come there.’

‘Scenery can hardly charm unless it has a past,’ he replied.

‘I can controvert that,’ said Theodora.

With much diffidence he replied: ‘I speak only of my own feeling. To me, a fine landscape without associations has no soul. It is like an unintellectual beauty.’

‘There are associations in the West Indies,’ said Theodora.

‘Not the most agreeable,’ said Lord St. Erme.

‘There is the thought of Columbus,’ said Violet, ‘his whole character, and his delight as each island surpassed the last.’

‘Now, I have a fellow-feeling for the buccaneers,’ said Theodora. ‘Bertram Risingham was always a hero of mine. I believe it is an ancestral respect, probably we are their descendants.’

Violet wondered if she said so to frighten him.

‘“Rokeby” has given a glory to buccaneering,’ he replied. ‘It is the office of poetry to gild nature by breathing a soul into her. It is what the Americans are trying to do for their new world, still turning to England as their Greece.’

‘I meant no past associations,’ said Theodora, bluntly. ‘John carries his own with him.’

‘Yes; all may bear the colour of the imagination within.’

‘And of the purpose,’ said Theodora. ‘It is work in earnest, no matter where, that gives outward things their interest. Dreaming will never do it. Working will.’

Their conversation here closed; but Theodora said as they went home: ‘What did you think of him, Violet?’

‘He looks younger than I expected.’

‘He would be good for something if he could be made to work. I long to give him a pickaxe, and set him on upon the roads. Then he would see the beauty of them! I hate to hear him maunder on about imagination, while he leaves his tenantry to take their chance. HE knows what eyes Percy and John see things with!’

‘I am glad to have seen him,’ said Violet, reassured.

‘He desired to be introduced to you.’

‘I wonder—do you think—do you suppose he remembers—?’

‘I don’t suppose he thinks anything about it,’ said Theodora, shortly.

CHAPTER 14

 
     I am not yet of Earl Percy’s mind.
 

     —King Henry IV

‘Violet,’ said Theodora, the next morning, ‘I want to know if Percy said more to Arthur than to us?’

She spoke with deepening colour, and Violet’s glowed still more, as she answered: ‘Arthur asked him, and he said he would not BEGIN an acquaintance, but that there was no occasion to break off the ordinary civilities of society. He accused her of no more than levity. Yes, those were Arthur’s words.’

‘I am going to get to the bottom of it,’ said Theodora; ‘and give Georgina a thorough lecture.’

She departed; and Violet sat down to her letters, with little Johnnie crawling at her feet; but in a few minutes she was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Fotheringham, asking for Theodora.

‘She is gone out. She could not rest without an explanation from Mrs. Finch.’

‘A proper farrago she will hear,’ said Percy. ‘I found I could settle to nothing, so I thought it best to come and have it out.’

‘I hope she will soon come in.’

‘Don’t let me interrupt you. Go on with your letters.—Ha! little master!’

In his present temper, play with the baby was the most congenial occupation, and he made the little fellow very happy till he was carried off for his midday sleep. Then he tried to read, but seemed so uneasy, that Violet wondered if it would be intermeddling to hint at Theodora’s real views. At last, as if he could bear it no longer, he abruptly said, ‘Mrs. Martindale, do you know anything of these people?’

‘Very little,’ she answered. ‘Theodora was telling me about them yesterday, before you came. I believe she only likes them for old acquaintance’ sake.’

‘Is it true that she used to go out with them last year?’

‘I believe that she did sometimes.’

‘At least, I hope that will not happen again.’

‘No, I should not think it would. I am sure Theodora does not entirely approve of Mrs. Finch.’

‘She defended her through thick and thin.’

‘You shocked her with the suddenness of what you said. She cannot forget the having been happy together as children; but she thinks as you do, and disliked the marriage very much. Before you came, she had been lamenting over Mrs. Finch.’

‘Then, it was pure perverseness!’

‘If I said so, I wonder what you would answer,’ said Violet, with a bright, arch look.

‘I should hear reason,’ said Percy, roughly, as if to repel the sweetness; yet it had a mollifying effect, and he presently spoke with less irritation and more regret.

‘She suspects no evil, and cannot understand any imputation on her friend. She fancies I speak from report, but I have known this fellow, Mark, all my life. His mother is a sister of my Aunt Fotheringham. They wanted me to hunt up an appointment to get him out of the young lady’s way.’

‘Before her marriage?’

‘Ay. When I was last in England, there was a great to-do at the discovery of an engagement between this youth and Miss Georgina. I suppose, considering her bringing-up, she was not much to be blamed. I remember my aunt thought the poor girl harshly dealt with.’

‘O, that must have been the cause of the nervous fever Theodora mentioned. She said she knew no particulars.’

‘She has not been openly dealt with,’ said Percy. ‘They do not dare to let her see their doings.’

‘So the poor thing was tormented into this marriage?’

‘No torment needed. The elder sister did try to warn her that it could not turn out well. I should think the old rogue had found his punishment for his extortions. Fine stories I could tell you of him in South America. Now, am I not justified in keeping clear of them? Let Theodora say what she will, it does not make it right for me to put myself in the way of those great extravagant dinners and parties of theirs, where they want me for nothing but a show-off.’

‘I am sure Theodora will think with you, when she is cooler, and not taken by surprise.’

The clock struck.

‘There, I have an appointment!’

‘I wish you could wait for luncheon. She must come then.’

‘What are you going to do this evening?’

‘I am sorry to say that we dine out; but to-morrow is Sunday, and you will be sure to find us at home.’

He went, and one o’clock came, but no Theodora. Violet had waited ten minutes for luncheon before she returned.

‘I did not know how late it was,’ said she. ‘I wish you had begun without me.’

Then, throwing her bonnet into a chair, and cutting some cake, she proceeded: ‘Such hours as they keep! No one but Jane was up when I came, so I went to her room, and told her I would hear the rights of it.’

‘Were you satisfied?’

‘Georgina has been foolish and unguarded, and the world is very ill-natured. I hate it altogether, from beginning to end,’ said Theodora, with an impatient gesture. ‘Most decidedly,’ she added, ‘Georgina never ought to have married. I forced it from Jane that she had never cared for any one but this Mark. The discovery of his extravagance and misconduct was the real overthrow of my poor Georgina. It was that which brought on her illness; the family were very unkind; and at last weakness and persecution broke down her spirit, and she was ready to do anything to escape.’

‘Poor thing! poor thing!’

‘She had nothing to fall back upon. Oh, if I had but been there! If I had but known it at the time!’

‘Well, and now?’ said Violet, anxiously.

‘The having Mr. Gardner there now? Really, I don’t think she deserves all this abuse. The other matter is entirely passed away. Mr. Finch likes him, and they understand each other fully. Coming to them detaches him from his former habits, and gives him the best chance. His mother is so relieved to know he is with them. If Jane saw anything in the least amiss, she says she would be the first to take alarm, and I do trust her for that, for the sake of appearances.’

‘I suppose it is a question of appearances,’ said Violet, with the diffident blushes of her eighteen years.

‘Is she to throw away the hope of rescuing her cousin, to save herself from spiteful tongues?’ cried Theodora. ‘Not that I suppose Lady Fotheringham means to be spiteful, but Percy hears it all from her, and we know very well that good ladies in the country have a tendency to think every one good-for-nothing that lives in London or Paris, especially their relations. That is all nonsense. If Percy goes by gossip, I don’t. I go by my own observation, and I see there is nothing at which to take exception. I watched her and Mr. Gardner together, and I do declare there was nothing but ease and frankness. I am sure he was more inclined to pay that sort of attention to me. He really is very entertaining. I must tell you some of his stories.’

‘Percy has been here,’ said Violet.

‘Has he?’

‘He waited till twelve, and then was obliged to go.’

Theodora kept silence for some minutes, then said: ‘If he thinks to make me give my friends up, he is much mistaken! You know I had written to Georgina last night. Well, she thought I had come to be congratulated; and if you had but seen the greeting—the whole manner—when she met me! Oh! you would know how impossible it is not to feel for her, with all one’s heart!’

‘Yes, yes. I suppose you could not say anything about this to her. No, of course not.’

‘Not of course at all, if I could have had her alone, but Jane was there all the time. It was a pleasure to see the contrast between her manner and Jane’s. There was soul in her, real hopes I should be happy, while Jane seemed only to think it tolerable, because I might end in being an ambassadress. I will see her again before the party, and draw my own conclusions.’

‘Does she know that Percy will not go?’

‘I know no such thing.’

She was too proud to ask what had passed in Violet’s interview with him, and indeed was ready to take fire at the idea of their affairs having been discussed with her.

She strove to believe herself the offended party, but her conscience was not easily appeased, though she tried to set it at rest by affectionate care of Violet, and was much gratified by Arthur’s stopping her after Violet had gone up-stairs at night, to beg her to stay, while he was at Windsor with his regiment.

‘Thank you, for making me of use,’ she said.

‘I shall come backwards and forwards continually,’ said Arthur, ‘but she must not be alone; I shall be very glad if you can stay, or I shall be driven to have one of the Mosses here.’

‘Oh, no, no! I shall be most happy to stay. I will take every care of her.’

‘Thank you, Theodora; good night. You have got to know her better now,’ he continued, lingering as on that first night to gain some word of commendation of her.

‘Much better,’ said Theodora cordially. ‘One cannot help growing fond of her—so gentle and engaging.’

She was pleased with his satisfaction; and while she owned Violet’s sincerity and sweetness, considered her one of those soft dependent beings formed to call forth tenderness from strong and superior spirits, and gloried in being necessary to her: it almost restored her balance of complacency.

On Sunday afternoon Violet stayed at home with little Johnnie, and the vacant place in the seat at church was filled by Mr. Fotheringham. Many thoughts floated through Theodora’s mind; but whether the better or the worse would gain the advantage seemed rather to depend on chance than on herself. Perhaps she was not yet conscious what were her besetting sins, and thus the conflict was merely a struggle between her feelings for her friend and for her lover.

Arthur walked home with an acquaintance; but Theodora turned from Percy, and threw herself into eager conversation with Lady Elizabeth.

On entering the house, as Violet was not in the drawing-room, Theodora was going up-stairs, when Percy said, in a tone of authority, ‘How long do you intend to go on in this way!’

‘In what way?’

‘Do you wish to keep all our disputes as a spectacle for Arthur’s edification?’

Colouring with shame and displeasure, she sat down with a sort of ‘I am ready’ air, and took off her walking things, laying them down deliberately, and waiting in complete silence. Did she wish to embarrass him, or did she await his first word to decide what line she should take?

‘Theodora,’ he said at length, ‘when I spoke last night, I did not know how early your acquaintance with this lady had begun, or I should have shown more regard to the feeling that arises between old companions. I am afraid I gave you some unnecessary pain.’

This was unexpected; and she could not at once harden herself in displeasure, so that though she spoke not, her countenance was relenting.

‘Did Mrs. Martindale mention what I told her yesterday!’

‘No; she only said you had been here while I was gone to satisfy my mind.’

‘And did you?’

‘I should never have defended Georgina’s marriage if I had known the whole; but the rest of what you have heard is slander.’

‘That is what I came to explain;’ and Percy repeated the history he had before given to Violet, adding a warning of the same kind as John’s against placing Arthur in Mr. Gardner’s way.

‘The point is,’ said Theodora, ‘what construction is to be placed on the present state of things? You and Lady Fotheringham, who have not seen them, take one view; I, who do see them, and who know Georgina intimately, take another, in which I agree with her husband and with the elder sister, who lives with her.’

‘Intimately! When you had no idea of this first affair!’

‘Such follies are not to be published.’

‘You WILL defend them!’ cried Percy, impatiently.

‘Am I to sit quiet when I hear injustice done to my oldest friend?’

‘I wish that unhappy friendship had never begun!’

A silence broken by her coolly saying, ‘Well, what is to come of all this?’

Percy walked about the room and said, ‘What do you mean?’

With a provoking air of meekness she said, ‘I only want to know what you expect of me.’

Excessively annoyed, he sharply answered, ‘To be a reasonable woman.’

‘Well?’ said Theodora, with the same submissive voice. He had recovered himself, and with no further show of temper, he sat down by her, saying, ‘This is folly. We had better say what we mean. You feel strongly with regard to your old playfellow; I cannot think well of her; but while this is matter of opinion, it is childish to dispute. Time will show which is the correct view—I shall be glad if it is yours. The elder sister is a steady amiable person, whom my aunt likes, and that is in their favour. I do not wish you to break with an old friend while we know of no positive charge against her, though I should think there could be little to attract you. For me it is another matter, and I will not.’

‘You will not adopt my friends?’

I will not be talked into it.’

‘I do not understand your principle,’ said Theodora, but without asperity. ‘Why do you decline an acquaintance to which you do not object for me?’

‘The beginning has been made in your case, and I know it is old affection, not present approval. You can’t be hurt by one like her. But for my part, knowing what I do of them, I will enter on no acquaintance; it is a line of which I have resolved to keep clear. She would think herself patronizing a literary man.’

‘Oh! you could not submit to that!’ cried Theodora—‘never. Stay away, I beg of you.’

‘It is for no such nonsense,’ said Percy. ‘But thinking of them as I do, I cannot receive from them the favours which rich folks consider invitations to poor ones. My connection with them makes it all the more undesirable. I totally disapprove their style of conduct, and will not seem to sanction it by beginning an acquaintance, or appearing at their grand dinners and parties. If I had known them before, the case might be different.’

‘I will say no more. You are quite right,’ said Theodora, well able to appreciate the manliness of his independence.

She thought over several times the way of communicating to Mrs. Finch, Percy’s rejection of her invitation, and made some attempts at seeing her, but without success, until the night of the party. Violet had an undefined dread of it, and was especially glad that her husband was able to go with them. It was one of the occasions when he was most solicitous about her appearance; and he was well pleased, for she was in very good looks, and prettily dressed with some Irish lace, that to Theodora’s amusement she had taken off Miss Marstone’s hands; and with his beautiful wife and distinguished-looking sister, he had his wish of displaying woman as she should be.

The room was full, but Violet saw few acquaintance; as Mrs. Finch, with much display of streamer, flounce, jewellery, and shoulders, came to meet them with vehement welcome, and quite oppressed Violet with her attention in finding a seat for her on the sofa.

With a nod and look of gay displeasure at Theodora, she said, ‘So, you have brought me no Crusader, you naughty girl! Where’s your Red Cross Knight?’

‘He would not come,’ said Theodora, gravely.

‘You dare own it! Where’s your power? Ah! you will say it was idleness.’

‘I will tell you another time,’ said Theodora, blushing inconveniently, and Violet, as she felt her cheeks responding, fancied Mrs. Finch must know why.

‘You won’t confess! No, you never tried. If you had once set your mind on it, you would have accomplished it. I always cite Theodora Martindale as the person who cannot be resisted.’

‘You see your mistake,’ returned Theodora. A gentleman here greeted her, then claimed Mrs. Finch’s attention, and evidently by his desire, she turned to Violet, and presented him as her cousin, Mr. Gardner, an old friend of Captain Martindale.

Violet acknowledged the courtesy, but it was in confusion and distress.

‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance,’ was his address. ‘Is Captain Martindale here? I have not seen him for years.’

‘He is in the room,’ said Violet, looking round for him, hoping either that he would come, or that Mr. Gardner would go in search of him, but the conversation continued, though she answered without knowing what she said, till at last he moved away to communicate to Mrs. Finch that Arthur Martindale’s pretty wife had nothing but fine eyes and complexion.

Theodora was satisfied to see a very slight recognition pass between Mr. Gardner and her brother, who was intent on conducting to Violet an officer newly returned from the West Indies, where he had met John. After a pleasant conversation, the two gentlemen moved away, and presently the place next to her was taken by Miss Gardner, with civil inquiries for her little boy.

‘We are so vexed at not seeing Mr. Fotheringham! Georgina is furious. We reckoned on him as the lion of the night.’

Violet had no answer to make, and Jane continued. ‘I have taken Theodora to task. Fame makes men capricious, and he is very odd; but I tell her she ought to have more influence, and I seriously think so. Do you not?’

‘I believe he convinced her,’ said Violet, wishing the next moment to recall her words.

‘Indeed! I am curious.’

‘I believe he thinks it better—fashionable life—’ faltered Violet.

‘He might have made an exception in favour of such near connections! Why, we shall be related ourselves, Mrs. Martindale. How charmed I shall be.’

Violet turned a bracelet on her arm, and could make no response.

‘It is strange enough that we have never met Percival Fotheringham,’ said Miss Gardner. ‘He is an eccentric being, I hear, but our dear Theodora has a spice of eccentricity herself. I hope it will be for the best.’

‘He is an admirable person,’ said Violet.

‘I rejoice to hear it. I had some doubts. The dear girl is so generous, of such peculiar decision, so likely to be dazzled by talent, and so warmly attached to her eldest brother, that I almost feared it might not have been well weighed. But you are satisfied?’

‘O, yes, entirely so.’

‘I am relieved to hear it. In confidence I may tell YOU, it is said in our OWN family, that there is a rough overbearing temper about him. I could not bear to think of dear Theodora’s high spirit being subjected to anything of that kind.’

‘He is abrupt,’ said Violet, eagerly; ‘but I assure you the better he is known, the more he is liked. My little boy is so fond of him.’

‘I am glad. No doubt you have every means of judging, but I own I was surprised at such ready consent. You were behind the scenes, no doubt, and can tell how that determined spirit carried the day.’

‘Lord Martindale gave his consent most readily and gladly,’ said Violet; but Jane was only the more convinced that Mrs. Martindale was as ignorant as ever of family secrets.

‘It was best to do so with a good grace; but I did think our dear Theodora might have looked higher! Poor Lord St. Erme! He would have been a more eligible choice. The family must have been much disappointed, for she might have had him at her feet any day last summer.’

‘I do not think he would have suited her.’

‘Well! perhaps not, but an easy gentle temper might. However, it cannot be helped! Only the long engagement is unfortunate—very trying to both parties. I have seen so few turn out well! Poor Pelham Fotheringham! It is a pity he should stand between them and the baronetcy.’

‘Is he Sir Antony’s son?’

‘Yes; it is a sad affair. A fine tall youth, quite imbecile. He is his poor mother’s darling, but no more fit to take care of himself than a child of five years old. A most melancholy thing! Old Sir Antony ought to set him aside, and let Percival enjoy the estate. Indeed, I should think it very probable he would do so—it would be greatly for the happiness of all parties.’

‘I think it would,’ said Violet.

‘Percival can do anything with the old people, and they will be so delighted with the Martindale connection! Perhaps it is an understood thing. Do you know whether it is?’

‘I should not think so. I never heard anything of it.’

‘Has Theodora ever been introduced to the uncle and aunt?’

‘Never.’

‘Good old folks, exceedingly primitive. Very kind too, and a fine old-fashioned place; but, oh, so dull! All their ideas are of the seventeenth century. It will be a severe ordeal for poor Theodora, but if Lady Fotheringham, good old soul, is pleased with her, I shall expect grand consequences.’