'Poor Emma! He has debts enough to swallow two-thirds! And Miss Marstone, what does she say?'
'His becoming a suitor seems to have been a surprise and disappointment to her; but if she thinks him a pupil of her own, or expects to govern the Priory in poor Emma's stead, she will be in his favour. No; I have no hope from Theresa Marstone's discretion.'
'The rest of the family?'
'Theresa despises the others too much to attend to them. Mr. Randall seems to be startled at the present aspect of affairs, and asks me to come; and I should have set off this morning, but that I thought I might learn something from you and Arthur.'
'Every one would tell you the same. He was expelled from the University, and has gone on shockingly ever since, breaking his mother's heart! Poor Emma! after dreading every gentleman!'
'I fear she has much to suffer. He made her think him not a marrying man, and put her off her guard. Did you say he was agreeable?'
'Perhaps I might think so if I knew nothing about him; but I have always had a repugnance to him, and it is all I can do not to dislike him more than is right. If I saw him speak to Johnnie, I think I should!'
'And now tell me, for I ought to have every proof, if you know anything that would convince Emma that this present repentance is assumed?'
Violet coloured excessively. 'Arthur could tell' she said, half choked, and as Lady Elizabeth still waited, she was obliged to add, He was active in the same way at the last races. I know there are things going on still that a man who really meant to reform would have broken off. Arthur could give you proofs.'
Violet could not bear to be more explicit. Her own secret feeling was that Mr. Gardner was her husband's evil genius, leading him astray, and robbing her of his affection, and she was not far mistaken. Sneers, as if he was under her government, were often employed to persuade him to neglect her, and continue his ruinous courses; and if she shrunk from Gardner, he in return held her in malicious aversion, both as a counter influence and as a witness against him. It was the constant enmity of light to darkness, of evil to innocence.
The whole drive was spent in conversing on this engrossing theme; Lady Elizabeth lamenting the intimacy with Sarah Theresa, a clever, and certainly in many respects an excellent person, but with a strong taste for singularity and for dominion, who had cultivated Emma's naturally ardent and clinging nature into an exclusive worship of her; and, by fostering all that was imaginative in her friends composition, had led her to so exalted an estimate of their own ideal that they alike disdained all that did not coincide with it, and spurned all mere common sense. Emma's bashfulness had been petted and promoted as unworldly, till now, like the holes in the philosopher's cloak, it was self-satisfaction instead of humility. This made the snare peculiarly dangerous, and her mother was so doubtful how far she would be guided, as to take no comfort from Violet's assurances that Mr. Gardner's character could be proved to be such that no woman in her senses could think, a second time, of accepting him.
'I cannot tell,' said poor Lady Elizabeth; 'they will think all wiped out by his reform. Emma speaks already of aiding him to redeem the past. Ah! my dear,' in answer to a look, 'you have not seen my poor child of late: you do not know how much more opinionative she has become, or rather, Theresa has made her. I wish she could have been more with you.'
'I never was enough of a companion to her, said Violet. 'In my best days I was not up to her, and now, between cares and children, I grow more dull every day.'
'Your best days! my dear child. Why, how old are you?'
'Almost twenty-two,' said Violet; 'but I have been married nearly six years. I am come into the heat and glare of middle life. Not that I mean to complain,' said she, rousing her voice to cheerfulness; 'but household matters do not make people companions for those who have their youthfulness, and their readings, and schemes.'
'I wish Emma could have been drawn to take interest in your sound practical life.'
'If she would make a friend of Theodora!'
'Yes, but the old childish fear of her is not gone; and Emma used to think her rather wild and flighty, and so indeed did I; but how she is changed! I have been much pleased with conversations with her of late. Do you think it is owing to Mr. Hugh Martindale's influence?'
'In great part it is. What a blessing it is to them all to have him here.'
'Ah! it has been one of the things that made me most dread Theresa, that she will not like that good man.'
'What can she say against him?'
'I don't exactly understand them. They called him a thorough Anglican, and said he did not feel the universal pulse! Now, I know it has been unfortunate for Emma that our own vicar does not enter into these ways of thinking; but I thought, when Mr. Hugh Martindale came into the neighbourhood, that there would be some one to appeal to; but I believe Theresa will trust to no one but of her own choosing.'
They had come back to the parsonage-gate, and Lady Elizabeth set Violet down, promising to write as soon as she arrived at Gothlands; Arthur was sauntering in the garden, and as soon as the carriage was out of sight, came to meet her.
'O, Arthur, Lady Elizabeth wanted to speak to you. Cannot you catch her?'
'I? No. Nonsense.'
'She wanted to ask you about Mr. Gardner. Was it he whom you met at Gothlands?'
'Well, what of that?'
'Poor Lady Elizabeth! Is it not shocking that he has been making an offer to Emma?'
'He has, has he? Well, and what is she going to do?'
'There can be but one answer,' said Violet. 'Lady Elizabeth came to hear about him.'
'A fine chance for gossip for you.'
'I was forced to tell her,' said she, trying to hide the pain given her by his contemptuous tone. 'I would not have spoken if I could have helped it.'
'Ay!' said Arthur, 'as he says, set on a lady to talk of her husband's friends.'
'But, oh! Arthur, what could I do? Think of poor Emma.'
'Emma is a fool.'
'Only you must not be angry with me. I would have said nothing without cause, but when it comes to this,--and he is pretending to be reformed.'
'Well, so he might be if you would let him.'
'But, Arthur!' then eagerly seizing a new hope, 'you don't mean that he is really improving? Oh! has he given up those horses, and released you?
He turned petulantly away. 'How can he? You have taken away any chance of it now. You have done for him, and it is of no use to go on any more about it.'
He marched off to his own abode, while she was obliged to sit down under the verandah to compose herself before Theodora should see her.
Theodora perceived that much was amiss; but was spared much anxiety by not being with the family, and able to watch her brother. The cottage was completely furnished from the wreck of Martindale; but the removal thither was deferred by her slow recovery. Though not seriously ill, she had been longer laid up than had been anticipated in a person so healthy and strong; the burns would not heal satisfactorily, and she was weak and languid. It seemed as if the unsparing fatigues she had been in the habit of undergoing; her immoderate country walks--her over late and over early hours, had told on her frame, and rendered the effects of her illness difficult to shake off. Or, thought Violet, those tidings might be the secret cause, although she never referred to them, and continued not merely patient, but full of vigour of mind, cheerful, and as independent and enterprising as submission to orders permitted. Her obedience to irksome rules was so ready and implicit, that Violet marvelled, till she perceived that it was part of her system of combat with self- will; and she took the departure of her sister in the same manner, forbearing to harass Violet with lamentations; and when her mother deplored it, made answer, 'It is my fault. If I had not persuaded Arthur out of living at Brogden, we should be staying with them.'
As to the chance of permanent disfigurement, she treated it very coolly, listening with indifference to her mother's frequent inquiries of the surgeon. 'Never mind, mamma, you and Violet will keep up the beauty of the family till Helen comes out.'
The first time she was able to come down-stairs was the last evening before they were to depart. One of Arthur's sparks of kindly feeling awoke when he beheld his once handsome, high-spirited sister, altered and wrapped up, entering the room with an invalid step and air; and though she tried to look about in a bright 'degage'
