Gardner’s object in life, for the present, might be said to be to pick up amusement, and go about making visits; the grander the people the better, adapting herself to every one, and talking a sort of sensible scandal, with a superior air of regret; obtaining histories at one house to be detailed at another, and thus earning the character of being universally intimate. The sentiments of the young bride of Martindale had been, throughout her visit, matter of curiosity; and even this tete-a-tete left them guess work. Theodora’s were not so difficult of discovery; for, though Jane had never been the same favourite with her as her more impetuous sister, she had, by her agreeable talk and show of sympathy, broken down much of the hedge of thorns with which Theodora guarded her feelings.
‘I have been talking to Mrs. Martindale,’ Jane began, as they went up-stairs together. ‘She is a graceful young thing, and Georgina and I will call on her in London. Of course they will be settled there.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Theodora. ‘A notion has been started of his leaving the Guards, and their coming to live at the cottage at Brogden.’
‘Indeed!’ exclaimed Miss Gardner.
‘It is not settled, so don’t mention it. I doubt how it would answer to set Arthur down with nothing to do.’
‘I doubt, indeed! I have seen a good deal of families living close together.’
‘Nothing shall make me quarrel with Arthur, or his wife. You smile, but it needs no magnanimity to avoid disputes with anything so meek and gentle.’
‘You can’t judge of her; a girl of sixteen in a house full of strangers! Give her a house of her own, and she will soon learn that she is somebody. As long as your eldest brother is unmarried, she will expect to be looked upon as the wife of the heir. She will take offence, and your brother will resent it.’
‘And there will be discussions about her,’ said Theodora.
‘Depend upon it, ‘tis easier to keep the peace at a distance. Fancy the having to call for her whenever you go out to dinner. And oh! imagine the father, mother, and half-dozen sisters that will be always staying there.’
‘No, Arthur has not married the whole family, and never means them to come near her.’
‘There are two words to that question,’ said Miss Gardner, smiling. ‘Quiet as she seems now, poor thing she has a character of her own, I can see, and plenty of discernment. To be so guarded, as she is, at her age, shows some resolution.’
‘Guarded! has she been saying anything?’
‘No, she is extremely prudent.’
‘Inferring it, then,’ exclaimed Theodora. ‘Well, her expectations must be high, if she is not satisfied; one comfort is, the Brogden scheme is only John’s and papa’s. My aunt can’t bear it, because it seems quite to give up the chance of John’s marrying.’
‘Well, Georgina and I will do the best we can for her. I suppose you wish it to be understood that you approve.’
‘Of course: you can say everything with truth that the world cares for. She is pleasing, and amiable, and all that.’
‘She will be extremely admired.’
‘And her head so much turned as to ruin all the sense there may be in it! I hate the thought of it, and of what is to become of Arthur when he wakes from his trance.’
‘He will find that he has a sister,’ said Jane, who had learnt that this was the secret of consolation; and, accordingly, a softer ‘Poor Arthur!’ followed.
‘And will you write, dear Theodora?’
‘I don’t promise. I hardly ever write letters.’
‘And you will not send your love to poor Georgina?’
‘I forgive her for having pained and disappointed me. I hope she will be happy, but I am very much afraid she has not gone the right way to be so.’
‘Am I to tell her so?’
‘I dare say you will, but don’t call it my message. If she makes a good use of her means, I shall try to forget the way she obtained them.’
‘I only hope, with your notions, that you will not get into a scrape yourself. I’m a little afraid of that curate.’
‘We both know better,’ said Theodora.
Jane departed, and Violet felt as if she had a friend and protector the less. She was sitting forlorn in the great drawing-room, waiting for Arthur, who was trying horses; presently Theodora came in, and with something of compassion, said, ‘I hope you have an entertaining book there.’
Oh yes, thank you, “La Vie de Philippe Auguste”. I like it very much; it is as amusing as “Philip Augustus” itself.’
‘James’s novel, you mean?’
‘Have you read it?’
‘His novels are exactly alike,’ said Theodora, leaving the room, but checked by the thought that it would be merciful to take her into her room. ‘No, nonsense,’ said second thoughts; ‘I shall have nothing but chatter ever after, if I establish her coming to me when Arthur is out; and if this cottage scheme comes to pass, she will be marching up whenever she has nothing better to do. Give an inch, and she will take an ell.’
She was interrupted by a diffident, hesitating call, and, looking back, as she was mounting the stairs, beheld Violet, who changed the appellation into ‘Miss Martindale.’
‘Well!’ said she, feeling as if her citadel were in jeopardy.
‘Would you—would you be so very kind as to lend me a French dictionary?’
‘Certainly; I’ll give you one in a moment,’ said Theodora; with so little encouragement as would have deterred a person bent on gaining the entree. Violet stood meekly waiting till she brought the book, and received it with gratitude disproportionate to the favour conferred.
CHAPTER 5
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
Miss Gardner’s departure threw the rest of the party more together, and Theodora did not hold herself as much aloof as before. Indeed she perceived that there were occasions when Arthur seemed to be returning to his preference for her. She had more conversation, and it often fell on subjects of which the bride had no knowledge, while the sister was happy in resuming old habits. Sometimes Violet was entertained; but one day when they were riding, the talk was going on eagerly on some subject of which she knew nothing, while they rode faster than she liked, and she fancied she was insecure in her saddle. Twice she timidly called Arthur; but he was too much absorbed to attend to her, without a degree of scream, which she did not feel would be justified. Each moment she grew more alarmed and miserable, and though at last, when he perceived that she wanted him, he was off his horse in a moment and set all to rights, she completely forgot her distress,—the charm had been broken, she was no longer his first thought.
The sensation of loneliness often returned during the next few weeks; there was no real neglect, and she would not so have felt it
