another fortnight John wrote to say that he found he had come home too early, and must go to the Isle of Wight till the weather was warmer. In passing through London, he would come to Cadogan-place, and it was decided that he should arrive in time to go with the baby to church on the Tuesday, and proceed the next morning.
He arrived as Violet came down to greet her party of sponsors. Never had she looked prettier than when her husband led her into the room, her taper figure so graceful in her somewhat languid movements, and her countenance so sweetly blending the expression of child and mother. Each white cheek was tinged with exquisite rose colour, and the dark liquid eyes and softly smiling mouth had an affectionate pensiveness far lovelier than her last year’s bloom, and yet there was something painful in that beauty—it was too like the fragility of the flower fading under one hour’s sunshine; and there was a sadness in seeing the matronly stamp on a face so young that it should have shown only girlhood’s freedom from care. Arthur indeed was boasting of the return of the colour, which spread and deepened as he drew attention to it; but John and Lady Elizabeth agreed, as they walked to church, that it was the very token of weakness, and that with every kind intention Arthur did not know how to take care of her—how should he?
The cheeks grew more brilliant and burning at church, for on being carried to the font, the baby made his doleful notes heard, and when taken from his nurse, they rose into a positive roar. Violet looked from him to his father’s face, and there saw so much discomposure that her wretchedness was complete, enhanced as it was by a sense of wickedness in not being able to be happy and grateful. Just as when a few days previously she had gone to return thanks, she had been in a nervous state of fluttering and trembling that allowed her to dwell on nothing but the dread of fainting away. The poor girl’s nerves had been so completely overthrown, that even her powers of mind seemed to be suffering, and her agitated manner quite alarmed Lady Elizabeth. She was in good hands, however; Lady Elizabeth went home with her, kept every one else away, and nursing her in her own kind way, brought her back to common sense, for in the exaggeration of her weak spirits, she had been feeling as if it was she who had been screaming through the service, and seriously vexing Arthur.
He presently looked in himself to say the few fond merry words that were only needed to console her, and she was then left alone to rest, not tranquil enough for sleep, but reading hymns, and trying to draw her thoughts up to what she thought they ought to be on the day of her child’s baptismal vows.
It was well for her that the christening dinner (a terror to her imagination) had been deferred till the family should be in town, and that she had no guest but John, who was very sorry to see how weary and exhausted she looked, as if it was a positive effort to sit at the head of the table.
When the two brothers came up to the drawing-room, they found her on the sofa.
‘Regularly done for!’ said Arthur, sitting down by her. ‘You ought to have gone to bed, you perverse woman.’
‘I shall come to life after tea,’ said she, beginning to rise as signs of its approach were heard.
‘Lie still, I say,’ returned Arthur, settling the cushion. ‘Do you think no one can make tea but yourself! Out with the key, and lie still.’
‘I hope, Violet,’ said John, ‘you did not think the Red Republicans had been in your drawers and boxes. I am afraid Arthur may have cast the blame of his own doings on the absent, though I assure you I did my best to protect them.’
‘Indeed he did you more justice,’ said Violet, ‘he told me the box was your setting to rights, and the drawer his. It was very honest of him, for I must say the box did you most credit.’
‘As to the drawer,’ said Arthur, ‘I wish I had put it into the fire at once! Those accounts are a monomania! She has been worse from the day she got hold of that book of hers again, and the absurd part of it is that these are all bills that she pays!’
‘Oh! they are all comfortable now,’ said Violet.
‘And what did you say to Arthur’s bold stroke!’ said John.
‘Oh! I never laughed more in my life.’
‘Ah ha’’ said Arthur, ‘it was all my admirable sagacity! Why, John, the woman was an incubus saddled upon us by Miss Standaloft, that this poor silly child did not know how to get rid of, though she was cheating us out of house and home. Never were such rejoicings as when she found the Old Man of the Sea was gone!’
‘It is quite a different thing now,’ said Violet. ‘Nurse found me such a nice niece of her own, who does not consume as much in a fortnight as that dreadful woman did in a week. Indeed, my great book has some satisfaction in it now.’
‘And yet he accuses it of having thrown you back.’
‘Everything does that!’ said Arthur. ‘She will extract means of tiring herself out of anything—pretends to be well, and then is good for nothing!’
‘Arthur! Arthur! do you know what you are doing with the tea?’ cried Violet, starting up. He has put in six shellfuls for three people, and a lump of sugar, and now was shutting up the unfortunate teapot without one drop of water!’ And gaily driving him away, she held up the sugar-tongs with the lump of sugar in his face, while he laughed and yielded the field, saying, disdainfully, ‘Woman’s work.’
‘Under the circumstances,’ said John, ‘putting in no water was the best thing he could do.’
‘Ay,’ said Arthur, ‘a pretty fellow you for a West Indian proprietor, to consume neither sugar nor cigars.’
‘At this rate,’ said John, ‘they are the people to consume nothing. There was such an account of the Barbuda property the other day, that my father is thinking of going to see what is to be done with it.’
‘No bad plan for your next winter,’ said Arthur. ‘Now, Violet, to your sofa! You have brewed your female potion in your female fashion, and may surely leave your betters to pour it out.’
‘No, indeed! How do I know what you may serve us up?’ said she, quite revived with laughing. ‘I won’t give up my place.’
‘Quite right, Violet,’ said John, ‘don’t leave me to his mercy. Last time he made tea for me, it consisted only of the other ingredient, hot water, after which I took the law into my own hands for our mutual benefit. Pray what became of him after I was gone?’
‘I was obliged to have him up into my room, and give him his tea properly there, or I believe he would have existed on nothing but cigars.’
‘Well, I shall have some opinion of you when you make him leave off cigars.’
‘Catch her!’ quietly responded Arthur.
‘There can’t be a worse thing for a man that gets bad coughs.’
‘That’s all smoke, Violet,’ said Arthur. ‘Don’t tell her so, or I shall never have any peace.’
‘At least, I advise you to open the windows of his den before you show my mother and Theodora the house.’
‘As to Theodora! what is the matter with her!’ said Arthur.
‘I don’t know,’ said John.
‘In one of her moods? Well, we shall have her here in ten days’ time, and I shall know what to be at with her.’
‘I know she likes babies,’ said Violet, with confidence. She
