‘She considered the book of Genesis as a “sehr schone mythische Geschichte”, and called the Patriarchs the Hebrew Avatars.’
‘Theodora! You don’t mean it!’ exclaimed John.
‘I do, but I had my revenge, for, after the Turk’s-head adventure, she never slept without my Bible under her pillow. If by broad daylight she would have renounced the Avatar theory, I really would have forgiven her, for she was very good-natured, and she admired “the high Roman fashion” so much, I was half afraid she might follow it herself if we tormented her much more.’
‘But why keep it to yourself! I can hardly believe it possible! Why play these tricks instead of telling all?’
‘I did tell Aunt Nesbit, but Miss Ohnglaube was always reading Jean Paul with her and mamma; they were in raptures with her, and my aunt only said I was too well instructed to be misled.’
‘How old were you?’
‘About fifteen.’
‘It is beyond belief. Why could you not tell my father?’ said John.
‘I hardly saw him—I never spoke to him.’
‘Was not I at home!’
‘Yes, shut up in your room. I never thought of speaking to you. All I could do was to be as restive as possible, and when she did not care for that, there was nothing for it but playing on her German superstition. So Arthur told her some awful stones about whipping blacks to death, and declared West Indian families were very apt to be haunted; but that it was a subject never to be mentioned to mamma nor my aunt.’
‘And having paved the way, we treated her to the Turk’s-head,’ concluded Arthur. ‘I would do it again to hear her sigh and scream, and see Theodora acting as coolly as if she was in daily intercourse with the defunct nigger. If mademoiselle had not been frightened out of her senses, her self-possession would have betrayed us.’
‘I could not act fright,’ said Theodora.
‘And this was the best plan you could devise for getting rid of an infidel governess!’ said John.
And as they dispersed, he stood looking after his sister, thinking that there was more excuse for her inconsistencies than he had yet afforded her, and that, in fact, she deserved credit for being what she was. His aunt had done even more harm than the ruin of his happiness.
Theodora triumphed, and carried Arthur off, but Violet found the reality of the expedition less formidable than the anticipation. She knew her mother would have enjoyed seeing her well dressed, and setting forth in that style; the drive was agreeable, and Lady Martindale kind and gracious. Alone with her, she lost much of her dread, and felt better acquainted; but all froze up into coldness when they came home.
The ladies at Rickworth had not been at home; and as they did not arrive on the Wednesday till Violet had gone to dress, she had time to frighten herself by imagining an heiress on the pattern of Lady Martindale, and an earl’s daughter proportionably unapproachable. Her trepidation was increased by Arthur’s not coming in, though she heard guests arriving, and when at last he appeared, it was so late, that he desired her to go down and say he was ‘just ready.’
It was a serious thing to encounter alone that great saloon full of strangers, and with cheeks of the brightest carnation Violet glided in, and after delivering her message to Lord Martindale, was glad to find herself safely seated on an ottoman, whence she looked for the chief guests. In the distance, beside Lady Martindale, sat a quiet elderly lady in black; Theodora was paying a sort of scornful half-attention to a fine showy girl, who was talking rather affectedly; and, thought Violet, no one but an heiress could wear so many bracelets.
Her survey completed, she became conscious that a small, fair-haired, pale girl was sitting near her, looking so piteously shy and uncomfortable, that she felt bound to try and set her at ease, and ventured an observation on the weather. It was responded to, and something about the harvest followed; then, how pretty the country, and, thereupon, Violet said it only wanted mountains to be beautiful.
‘Ah! when one has once seen a mountain one cannot forget it.’
‘Never!’ said Violet. ‘I miss Helvellyn every morning when I look out of window.’
‘Do you know the Lake country?’ said the young lady.
‘My home—my old home—is within sight of the Westmoreland hills. Have you been there?’
‘Mamma and I once spent a month there, and enjoyed it exceedingly.’
‘Oh! and did you go up Helvellyn!’
‘Yes, that we did, in spite of the showers; and what a view we had!’
They were surprised to find that dinner had been announced. Violet was placed next to Mr. Martindale, and was able to ask the name of her new acquaintance.
‘Miss Brandon, you mean.’ ‘O no, not Miss Brandon, but that light pale girl in the lilac worked muslin, who was talking to me!’
‘I saw you talking to Miss Brandon.’
‘Could it be? She looked all astray and frightened, like me!’
‘That description answers to Emma Brandon,’ said John, smiling.
‘Who would have thought it! I should never have begun talking to her if I had guessed who she was. I only did it because she looked so uncomfortable. I hope it was not being forward.’
‘Not in the least. You know you are at home here,—it was a great kindness.’
‘Do you like her?’ said Violet.
‘I believe she is a very good kind of girl, and her mother is one of our oldest friends. They are very excellent sensible people, and do a great deal of good in their own parish.’
‘And only think! She has been in Westmoreland! She has seen Helvellyn!’
Violet was the only person who ever spoke to John in that hearty confidence of sympathy in rejoicing; and quite refreshed by her bright looks, he led her into a history of an ascent of Helvellyn, which had, until this spring, been the great event of her life.
On coming into the drawing-room, Miss Brandon shrank up to her mother’s side. Violet wished she had a mother to protect her; and not daring to place herself among the great ladies, stood in the group of younger ones, with whom Theodora was keeping up a cold formal converse. Country neighbours thought much of being asked to Martindale; but the parties there were of the grandest and stiffest. Moreover, every one had to give their friends a description of the bride; and the young ladies were more inclined to study her appearance than to find conversation, regarding her as an object of curiosity, as well as with some of their general dread of the house of Martindale.
After an awkward ten minutes, Lady Martindale came towards her, and said, ‘My dear, Lady Elizabeth Brandon wishes to be introduced to you.’
‘To me!’ and Violet followed her, blushed and bent, then found her hand cordially shaken, and a most comfortable voice addressing her. Room was made for her on the sofa, between Lady Elizabeth and her daughter, and she was supremely happy in talking about her own dear lake country. Arthur smiled, and looked well pleased to see her in such company; and Mr. Martindale came and talked to Lady Elizabeth all the evening.
Violet expected Theodora to
