Heartsease or Brother's Wife by Charlotte Mary Yonge - HTML preview

Chapter III.18

That we, whose work commenced in tears,

 May see our labours thrive,

 Till finished with success, to make

 Our drooping hearts revive.

 Though he despond that sows his grain,

 Yet, doubtless, he shall come

 To bind his full-ear'd sheaves, and bring

 The joyful harvest home.--Psalm 126. New Version

 Business cares soon began. Arthur consented to allow his brother to lay his  embarrassments before his father. 'Do as you please,' he said; 'but make him  understand that I am not asking him to help me out of the scrape. He does all he  can for me, and cannot afford more; or, if he could, Theodora ought to be thought  of first. All I wish is, that something should be secured to Violet and the children,  and that, if I don't get clear in my lifetime, these debts may not be left for Johnnie.

 'That you may rely on,' said John. 'I wish I could help you; but there were many  things at Barbuda that seemed so like fancies of my own, that I could not ask my  father to pay for them, and I have not much at my disposal just now.'

 'It is a good one to hear you apologizing to me!' said Arthur, laughing, but rather  sadly, as John carried off the ominous pocket- book to the study, hoping to effect  great things for his brother; and, as the best introduction, he began by producing  the letter written at Christmas. Lord Martindale was touched by the  commencement, but was presently lost in surprise on discovering Percy's  advance.

 'Why could he not have written to me? Did he think I was not ready to help my  own son?'

 'It was necessary to act without loss of time.'

 'If it were necessary to pay down the sum, why not tell me of it, instead of letting  poor Arthur give him a bond that is worth nothing?'

 'I fancy, if he had any notion of regaining Theodora, he was unwilling you or she  should know the extent of the obligation.'

 'It is well I do know it. I thought it unsatisfactory to hear of no profit, after all the  talk there has been about his books. I feared it was an empty trade: but this is  something like. Five thousand! He is a clever fellow after all!'

 'I hope he may soon double it,' said John, amused at this way of estimating  Percy's powers.

 'Well, it was a friendly act,' continued Lord Martindale. 'A little misjudged in the  manner, perhaps; but if you had seen the state Arthur was in--'

 'I should have forgiven Percy?' said John, with a slightly ironical smile, that made  his father laugh.

 'Not that I am blaming him,' he said; 'but it shall be paid him at once if it comes to  selling Wyelands. You know one cannot be under an obligation of this sort to a  lad whom one has seen grow up in the village.'

 'Perhaps he wishes it to be considered as all in the family.'

 'So it is. That is the worst of it. It is so much out of what he would have had with Theodora, and little enough there is for her. A dead loss! Could not Arthur have had more sense, at his age, and with all those children! What's all this?' reading on in dismay. 'Seven thousand more at least! I'll have nothing to do with it!' An hour after, John came out into the verandah, where Percy was reading, and asked if he knew where Arthur was.

 'He got into a ferment of anxiety, and Violet persuaded him to walk it off. He is gone out with Johnnie and Helen. Well, how has he fared?'

 'Not as well as I could wish. My father will not do more towards the debts than paying you.'

 'Ho! I hope he does not think I acted very impertinently towards him?' John laughed, and Percy continued,

 'Seriously, I believe it is the impertinence hardest to forgive, and I shall be glad when the subject is done with. That will be so much off Arthur's mind.' 'I wish more was; but I had no idea that there was so little available money amongst us. All I can gain in his favour is, that the estate is to be charged with five hundred pounds a year for Violet in case of his death; and there's his five thousand pounds for the children; but, for the present debts, my father will only say that, perhaps he may help, if he sees that Arthur is exerting himself to economize and pay them off.'

 'Quite as much as could reasonably be expected. The discipline will be very good for him.'

 'If it does not kill him,' said John, sighing. 'My father does not realize the shock to his health. He is in the state now that I was in when we went abroad, and--' 'And I firmly believe that if you had had anything to do but nurse your cough, you would have been in much better health.'

 'But it is not only for Arthur that I am troubled. What can be worse than economizing in London, in their position? What is to become of Violet, without carriage, without--'

 Percy laughed. 'Without court-dresses and powdered footmen? No, no, John. Depend upon it, as long as Violet has her husband safe at home, she wants much fewer necessaries of life than you do.'

 'Well, I will try to believe it right. I see it cannot be otherwise.'

 Arthur was not of this mind. He was grateful for his father's forgiveness and assistance, and doubly so for the provision for his wife, hailing it as an unexpected and undeserved kindness. Lord Martindale was more pleased by his manner in their interview than ever he had been before. Still there were many difficulties: money was to be raised; and the choice between selling, mortgaging, or cutting down timber, seemed to go to Lord Martindale's heart. He had taken such pride in the well-doing of his estate! He wished to make further retrenchments in the stable and garden arrangements; but, as he told John, he knew not how to reduce the enormous expense of the latter without giving more pain to Lady Martindale than he could bear to inflict.

 John offered to sound her, and discover whether the notion of dismissing Armstrong and his crew would be really so dreadful. He found that she winced at the mention of her orchids and ferns, they recalled the thought of her aunt's love for them, and she had not been in the conservatories for months. John said a word or two on the cost of keeping them up, and the need of prudence, with a view to providing for Arthur's children. It was the right chord. She looked up, puzzled: her mathematical knowledge had never descended to £.s.d. 'Is there a difficulty? I thought my dear aunt had settled all her property on dear little Johnnie.'

 'Yes, but only when he comes to the title; and for the others there is absolutely nothing but Arthur's five thousand pounds to be divided among them all.' 'You don't say so, John? Poor little dears! there is scarcely more than a thousand a-piece. Surely, there is my own property--'

 'I am sorry to say it was settled so as to go with the title. The only chance for them is what can be saved--'

 'Save everything, then,' exclaimed Lady Martindale. 'I am sure I would give up anything, if I did but know what. We have not had leaders for a long time past, and Theodora's dumb boy does as well as the second footman; Standaloft left me because she could not bear to live in a cottage; Grimes suits me very well; and I do not think I could do quite without a maid.'

 'No, indeed, my dear mother,' said John, smiling; 'that is the last thing to be thought of. All my father wished to know was, whether it would grieve you if we gave the care of the gardens to somewhat less of a first-rate genius?' 'Not in the least,' said Lady Martindale, emphatically. 'I shall never bear to return to those botanical pursuits. It was for her sake. Dear little Helen and the rest must be the first consideration. Look here! she really has a very good notion of drawing.'

 John perceived that his mother was happier than she had ever been, in waiting upon the children, and enjoying the company of Violet, whose softness exactly suited her; while her decision was a comfortable support to one who had all her life been trained round a stake. They drove and walked together; and Lady Martindale, for the first time, was on foot in the pretty lanes of her own village; she had even stopped at cottage doors, when Violet had undertaken a message while Theodora was out with Percy, and one evening she appeared busy with a small lilac frock that Helen imagined herself to be making. Lady Martindale was much too busy with the four black-eyed living blossoms to set her heart on any griffin-headed or monkey-faced orchids; and her lord found that she was one of those who would least be sensible of his reductions. Theodora was continually surprised to see how much more successful than herself Violet was in interesting her, and keeping her cheerful. Perhaps it was owing to her own vehemence; but with the best intentions she had failed in producing anything like the present contentment. And, somehow, Lord and Lady Martindale seemed so much more at ease together, and to have so much more to say to each other, that their Cousin Hugh one day observed, it was their honeymoon.

 'I say, John,' said Percy, one night, as they were walking to the vicarage, 'I wish you could find me something to do in the West Indies.'

 'I should be very sorry to export you--'

 'I must do something!' exclaimed Percy. 'I was thinking of emigration; but your sister could not go in the present state of things here; and she will not hear of my going and returning when I have built a nest for her.'

 'No, indeed!' said John. 'Your powers were not given for the hewing down of forests.'

 'Were not they?' said Percy, stretching and clenching a hard muscular wrist and hand.

 '"A man's a man for a' that!"

 I tell you, John, I am wearying for want of work--hard, downright, substantial work!'

 'Well, you have it, have you not?'

 'Pshaw! Pegasus won't let himself out on hire. I can't turn my sport into my trade. When I find myself writing for the lucre of gain, the whole spirit leaves me.' 'That is what you have been doing for some time.'

 'No such thing. Literature was my holiday friend at first; and if she put a gold piece or two into my pocket, it was not what I sought her for. Then she came to my help to beguile what I thought was an interval of waiting for the serious task of life. I wrote what I thought was wanted. I sent it forth as my way of trying what service I could do in my generation. But now, when I call it my profession, when I think avowedly, what am I to get by it?--Faugh! the Muse is disgusted; and when I go to church, I hang my head at "Lay not up to yourselves treasures upon earth -"'

 'A fine way you found of laying them up!'

 'It proved the way to get them back.'

 'I do not understand your objection. You had laid up that sum--your fair earning.' 'There it was: it had accumulated without positive intention on my part; I mean that I had of course taken my due, and not found occasion to spend it. It is the writing solely for gain, with malice prepense to save it,--that is the stumblingblock. I don't feel as if I was justified in it, nay, I cannot do it; my ideas do not flow even on matters wont to interest me most. It was all very well when waiting on Arthur was an object; but after he was gone, I found it out. I could not turn to writing, and if I did, out came things I was ashamed of. No! an able-bodied man of five-and-thirty is meant for tougher work than review and history-mongering! I have been teaching a ragged school, helping at any charities that needed a hand; but it seems amateur work, and I want to be in the stream of life again!' 'I will not say what most would--it was a pity you resigned your former post.' 'No pity at all. That has made a pair of good folks very happy. If I had kept certain hasty judgments to myself, I should not have been laid on the shelf. It is no more than I deserve, and no doubt it is good for me to be humbled and set aside; but work I will get of some kind! I looked in at a great factory the other day, and longed to apply for a superintendent's place, only I thought it might not be congruous with an Honourable for a wife.'

 'You don't mean to give up writing?'

 'No, to make it my play. I feel like little Annie, when she called herself puss without a corner. I have serious thoughts of the law. Heigh ho! Good night.' John grieved over the disappointed tone so unusual in the buoyant Percy, and revolved various devices for finding employment for him; but was obliged to own that a man of his age, whatever his powers, when once set aside from the active world, finds it difficult to make for himself another career. It accounted to John for the degree of depression which he detected in Theodora's manner, which, at all times rather grave, did not often light up into animation, and never into her quaint moods of eccentric determination; she was helpful and kind, but submissive and indifferent to what passed around her.

 In fact, Theodora felt the disappointment of which Percy complained, more uniformly than he did himself. He thought no more of it when conversation was going on, when a service was to be done to any living creature, or when he was playing with the children; but the sense of his vexation always hung upon her; perhaps the more because she felt that her own former conduct deserved no happiness, and that his future was involved in hers. She tried to be patient, but she could not be gay.

 Her scheme had been for Percy to take a farm, but he answered that he had lived too much abroad, and in towns, to make agriculture succeed in England. In the colonies perhaps,--but her involuntary exclamation of dismay at the idea of letting him go alone, had made him at once abandon the project. When, however, she saw how enforced idleness preyed on him, and with how little spirit he turned to his literary pursuits, she began to think it her duty to persuade him to go; and to this she had on this very night, with a great effort, made up her mind. 'There is space in his composition for more happiness than depends on me,' said she to Violet. 'Exertion, hope, trust in me will make him happy; and he shall not waste his life in loitering here for my sake.'

 'Dear Theodora, I fear it will cost you a great deal.'

 'Never mind,' said Theodora; 'I am more at peace than I have been for years. Percy has suffered enough through me already.'

 Violet looked up affectionately at her fine countenance, and gave one of the mute caresses that Theodora liked from her, though she could have borne them from no one else.

 Theodora smiled, sighed, and then, shaking off the dejected tone, said, 'Well, I suppose you will have a letter from Wrangerton to tell you it is settled. I wonder if you will go to the wedding. Oh! Violet, if you had had one particle of selfishness or pettiness, how many unhappy people you would have made!'

 Violet's last letter from home had announced that Mr. Fanshawe had come to stay with Mr. Jones, and she was watching eagerly for the next news. She went down-stairs quickly, in the morning, to seek for her own letters among the array spread on the sideboard.

 Percy was alone in the room, standing by the window. He started at her entrance, and hardly gave time for a good morning, before he asked where Theodora was.

 'I think she is not come in. I have not seen her.'

 He made a step to the door as if to go and meet her.

 'There is nothing wrong, I hope.'

 'I hope not! I hope there is no mistake. Look here.'

 He held up, with an agitated grasp, a long envelope with the mighty words, 'On her Majesty's service;' and before Violet's eyes he laid a letter offering him a diplomatic appointment in Italy.

 'The very thing above all others I would have chosen. Capital salary! Excellent house! I was staying there a week with the fellow who had it before. A garden of gardens. Orange walks,--fountains,-- a view of the Apennines and Mediterranean at once. It is perfection. But what can have led any one to pitch upon me?' Arthur had come down in the midst, and leant over his rejoicing wife to read the letter, while Percy vehemently shook his hand, exclaiming, 'There! See! There's the good time come! Did you ever see the like, Arthur! But how on earth could they have chosen me? I know nothing of this man--he knows nothing of me.' 'Such compliments to your abilities and classical discoveries,' said Violet. 'Much good they would do without interest! I would give twenty pounds to know who has got me this.'

 'Ha! said Arthur, looking at the signature. 'Did not he marry some of the Delaval connection?'

 'Yes,' said Violet; 'Lady Mary--Lord St. Erme's aunt. He was Lord St. Erme's guardian.'

 'Then that is what it is,' said Arthur, sententiously. 'Did you not tell me that St. Erme had been examining you about Percy?'

 'Yes, he asked me about his writings, and how long he had been at Constantinople,' said Violet, rather shyly, almost sorry that her surprise had penetrated and proclaimed what the Earl no doubt meant to be a secret, especially when she saw that Percy's exultation was completely damped. There was no time for answer, for others were entering, and with a gesture to enforce silence, he pocketed the papers, and said nothing on the subject all breakfasttime. Even while Violet regaled herself with Annette's happy letter, she had anxious eyes and thoughts for the other sister, now scarcely less to her than Annette.

 She called off the children from dancing round Uncle Percy after breakfast, and watched him walk off with Theodora to the side arcade in the avenue that always had especial charms for them.

 'Theodora, here is something for you to decide.'

 'Why, Percy!' as she read, 'this is the very thing! What! Is it not a good appointment? Why do you hesitate?'

 'It is an excellent appointment, but this is the doubt. Do you see that name? There can be no question that this is owing to Lord St. Erme.'

 'I see!' said Theodora, blushing deeply.

 'I wish to be guided entirely by your feeling.'

 They walked the whole length of the avenue and turned again before she spoke. At last she said--'Lord St. Erme is a generous person, and should be dealt with generously. I have given him pain by my pride and caprice, and I had rather give him no more. No doubt it is his greatest pleasure to make us happy, and I think he ought to be allowed to have it. But let it be as you please.'

 'I expected you to speak in this way. You think that he does not deserve to be wounded by my refusing this because it comes from him.'

 'That is my feeling, but if you do not like--I believe you do not. Refuse it, then.' 'To say I like the obligation would not be true; but I know it is right that I should conquer the foolish feeling. After all, it is public work that I am to do, and it would be wrong and absurd to refuse it, because it is he who has brought my name forward.'

 'You take it, then?'

 'Yes, standing reproved, and I might almost say punished, for my past disdain of this generous man.'

 'If you say so, what must I?'

 Percy resolved that, after consulting Lord Martindale, he would at once set off for London, to signify his acceptance, and make the necessary inquiries. Theodora asked whether he meant to appear conscious of the influence exerted in his favour. 'I will see whether it was directly employed; if so, it would be paltry to seem to appear unconscious. I had rather show that I appreciate his feeling, and if I feel an obligation, acknowledge it.

 'I wonder, Theodora,' said Arthur, 'that you allow him to go. He is so fond of giving away whatever any one cries for, that you will find yourself made over to St. Erme.'

 In three days' time Percy returned; Theodora went with Arthur and Violet to meet him at the station.

 'Well!' said he, as they drove off, 'he is a very fine fellow, after all! I don't know what is to be done for him! I wish we could find a Theodora for him.' 'I told you so, Theodora!' cried Arthur. 'He has presented you.'

 'There were two words to that bargain!' said Percy. 'He must be content to wait for Helen.'

 'So instead of my sister, you dispose of my daughter,' said Arthur. 'Poor little Helen!' said Violet. 'Imagine the age he will be when she is eighteen!' 'He will never grow old!' said Percy. 'He has the poet's gift of perpetual youth, the spring of life and fancy that keeps men young. He has not grown a day older since this time five years. I found he had taken a great deal of trouble about me, recommended me strenuously, brought forward my papers on foreign policy, and been at much pains to confute that report that was afloat against me. He treated my appointment as a personal favour; and he is a man of weight now. You were right, Theodora; it would have been abominable to sulk in our corner, because we had behaved ill ourselves, and to meet such noble-spirited kindness as an offence.'

 'I am very glad that you feel it so,' returned Theodora.

 'Now that I have seen him I do so completely. And another thing I have to thank you for, Violet, that you saved me from laying it on any thicker in that criticism of his poetry.'

 'I told you how he said that you had done him a great deal of good.' 'A signal instance--almost a single instance of candour. But there is a nobility of mind in him above small resentments and jealousies. Ay! there never will be anybody fit for him but Helen!'

 'And Helen brought up to be much better than her aunt,' said Theodora. 'It won't be my mother's fault if she is,' said Arthur. 'I was determined yesterday to see what she would succeed in making her do, and I declare the sprite drove her about like a slave--"Grandmamma, fetch me this," "grandmamma, you must do that," till at last she brought my poor mother down on her knees, stooping under the table to personate an old cow in the stall.'

 'Oh! Arthur! Arthur, how could you?' exclaimed Violet. 'What were you about to let it go on?'

 'Lying on the sofa, setting a good example,' said Percy.

 'No, no, I did not go that length,' said Arthur. 'I was incog. in the next room; but it was too good to interrupt. Besides, Helen has succeeded to my aunt's vacant throne, and my mother is never so hurt as when Violet interferes with any of her vagaries. The other day, when Violet carried her off roaring at not being allowed to turn grandmamma's work-box inside out, her ladyship made a formal remonstrance to me on letting the poor child's spirit be broken by strictness.' 'I hope you told her that some spirits would be glad to have been broken long ago,' said Theodora.

 'I only told her I had perfect faith in Violet's management.'

 Percy was wanted speedily to set off for his new situation, and the question of the marriage became difficult. His income was fully sufficient, but Theodora had many scruples about leaving her mother, whom the last winter had proved to be unfit to be left without companionship. They doubted and consulted, and agreed that they must be self-denying; but John came to their relief. He shrank with a sort of horror from permitting such a sacrifice as his own had been; held that it would be positively wrong to let their union be delayed any longer, and found his father of the same opinion, though not knowing how Lady Martindale would bear the loss. Perhaps his habit of flinching from saying to her what he expected her to dislike, had been one cause of Mrs. Nesbit's supremacy.

 John, therefore, undertook to open her eyes to the necessity of relinquishing her daughter, intending to offer himself as her companion and attendant, ready henceforth to devote himself to her comfort, as the means of setting free those who still had a fair prospect.

 As usual, Lady Martindale's reluctance had been overrated. John found that she had never calculated on anything but Theodora's marrying at once; she only observed that she supposed it could not be helped, and she was glad her dear aunt was spared the sight.

 'And you will not miss her so much when I am at home.'

 'You, my dear; I am never so happy as when you are here; but I do not depend on you. I should like you to spend this winter abroad, and then we must have you in Parliament again.'

 'If I were sure that you would be comfortable,' said John; 'but otherwise I could not think of leaving you.'

 'I was thinking,' said Lady Martindale, with the slowness of one little wont to originate a scheme, 'how pleasant it would be, if we could keep Arthur and Violet always with us. I cannot bear to part with the dear children, and I am sure they will all be ill again if they go back to London.'

 'To live with us! exclaimed John. 'Really, mother, you have found the best plan of all. Nothing could be better!'

 'Do you think your father would approve?' said Lady Martindale, eagerly. 'Let us propose it to him,' said John, and without further delay he begged him to join the conference. The plan was so excellent that it only seemed strange that it had occurred to no one before, combining the advantages of giving Arthur's health a better chance; of country air for the children, and of economy. Lord Martindale looked very well pleased, though still a little doubtful, as he pondered, whether there might not be some unseen objection, and to give himself time to think, repeated, in answer to their solicitations, that it was a most important step. 'For instance,' said he, as if glad to have recollected one argument on the side of caution, 'you see, if they live here, we are in a manner treating Johnnie as the acknowledged heir.'

 'Exactly so,' replied John; 'and it will be the better for him, and for the people. For my part--'

 They were interrupted by Arthur's walking in from the garden. Lady Martindale, too eager to heed that her lord would fain not broach the question till his deliberations were mature, rose up at once, exclaiming, 'Arthur my dear, I am glad you are come. We wish, when Theodora leaves us, that you and your dear wife and children should come and live at home always with us. Will you, my dear?' Arthur looked from one to the other in amaze.

 'It is a subject for consideration,' began Lord Martindale. 'I would not act hastily, without knowing the sentiments of all concerned.'

 'If you mean mine,' said John, 'I will finish what I was saying,-- that, for my part, a home is all that I can ever want; and that for Arthur to afford me a share in his, and in his children's hearts, would be the greatest earthly happiness that I can desire.'

 'I am sure'--said Arthur, in a voice which, to their surprise, was broken by a sob--'I am sure, John--you have every right. You have made my home what it is.' 'Then he consents!' exclaimed Lady Martindale; 'I shall have Violet always with me, and Helen.'

 'Thank you, thank you, mother; but--' His eye was on his father.

 'Your mother does not know what she is asking of you, Arthur,' said Lord Martindale. 'I would not have you engage yourself without consideration. Such arrangements as these must not be made to be broken. For myself, it is only the extreme pleasure the project gives me that makes me balance, lest I should overlook any objection. To have your dear Violet for the daughter of our old age, and your children round us, would, as John says, leave us nothing to wish.' Arthur could only tremulously repeat his 'Thank you,' but there was a hesitation that alarmed his mother. 'Your father wishes it, too,' she eagerly entreated. 'Do not press him, Anna,' said Lord Martindale. 'I would not have him decide hastily. It is asking a great deal of him to propose his giving up his profession and his establishment.'

 'It is not that,' said Arthur, turning gratefully to his father. 'I should be glad to give up the army and live at home--there is nothing I should like better; but the point is, that I must know what Violet thinks of it.'

 'Right! Of course, she must be consulted,' said Lord Martindale.

 'You see,' said Arthur, speaking fast, as if conscious that he appeared ungracious, 'it seems hard that she should have no house of her own, to receive her family in. I had promised she should have her sisters with her this winter, and I do not quite like to ask her to give it up.'

 'When the house is finished, and we have room,' began Lady Martindale, 'the Miss Mosses shall be most welcome.'

 'Thank you, thank you,' repeated Arthur. 'But besides, I do not know how she will feel about the children. If we are to be here, it must be on condition that she has the entire management of them to herself.'

 'Certainly,' again said his father. She has them in excellent training, and it would be entirely contrary to my principles to interfere.'

 'Then, you see how it is,' said Arthur. 'I am quite willing. I know it is what I do not deserve, and I am more obliged than I can say; but all must depend upon Violet.' He was going in quest of her, when the Rickworth carriage stopped at the gate and prevented him. Poor Lady Martindale, when she had sent her note of invitation to Lady Elizabeth and Emma to spend a long day at Brogden, she little imagined how long the day would be to her suspense. She could not even talk it over with any one but John, and he did not feel secure of Violet's willingness. He said that, at one time, she had been very shy and uncomfortable at Martindale, and that he feared there was reason in what Arthur said about the children. He suspected that Arthur thought that she would not like the scheme, and supposed that he knew best.

 'Cannot you try to prevail with her, dear John? You have great influence.' 'I should not think it proper to persuade her. I trust to her judgment to see what is best, and should be sorry to distress her by putting forward my own wishes.' This conversation took place while the younger ladies were walking in the garden with Lady Elizabeth and her daughter. It was the first time that Emma had been persuaded to come from home, and though she could not be more quiet than formerly, there was less peculiarity in her manner. She positively entered into the general conversation, and showed interest in the farming talk between her mother and Lord Martindale; but the children were her chief resource. And, though affectionate and almost craving pardon from Violet,--drawing out from her every particular about the little ones, and asking much about Arthur's health, and Theodora's prospects,--she left a veil over the matters that had so deeply concerned herself.

 It was from Lady Elizabeth that the sisters