'Ay. She met him at that breakfast, walked about the gardens with him all the morning, and my mother wrote to my aunt, I believe, that she was booked. Then at this Bryanstone soiree, the next night, Fitzhugh was in the ascendant--poor St. Erme could not so much as gain a look.'
'So he is in London!' said Violet. 'Do tell me what he is like.'
'Like a German music-master,' said Arthur. 'As queer a figure as ever I saw. Keeps his hair parted in the middle, hanging down in long lank rats' tails, meant to curl, moustache ditto, open collar turned down, black ribbon tie.'
'Oh! how amazed the Wrangerton people would be!'
'It is too much to study the picturesque in one's own person in England!' said John, laughing. 'I am sorry he continues that fashion.'
'So, of course,' continued Arthur, 'all the young ladies are raving after him, while he goes mooning after Theodora. How the fair sex must solace itself with abusing 'that Miss Martindale!''
'I wish he would be a little more sensible,' said John. 'He really is capable of something better.'
'Where did you know him?'
'At Naples. I liked him very much till he persecuted me beyond endurance with Tennyson and Browning. He is always going about in raptures with some new-fashioned poet.'
'I suppose he will set up Theodora for his muse. My mother is enchanted; he is exactly one of her own set, music, pictures, and all. The second-hand courtship is a fine chance for her when Miss Martindale is ungracious.'
'But it will not come to anything,' said John. 'In the meantime, her ladyship gets the benefit of a lion, and a very tawny lion, for her soirees.'
'Oh! that soiree will be something pleasant for you,' said Violet.
'I shall cut it. It is the first day I can be here.'
'Not meet that great African traveller?'
'What good would Baron Munchausen himself do me in the crowd my mother is heaping together?'
'I am sure your mother and sister must want you.'
'Want must be their master. I am not going to elbow myself about and be squashed flat for their pleasure. It is a dozen times worse to be in a mob at home, for one has to find chairs for all the ladies. Pah!'
'That is very lazy!' said the wife. 'You will be sorry to have missed it when it is too late, and your home people will be vexed.'
'Who cares? My father does not, and the others take no pains not to vex us.'
'O, Arthur! you know it makes it worse if you always come to me when they want you. I could wait very well. Only one day above all you must come,' said she, with lowered voice, in his ear.
'What's that?'
John could not see how, instead of speaking, she guided her husband's hand to her wedding-ring. His reply transpired--'I'll not fail. Which day is it?'
'Friday week. I hope you will be able!'
'I'll manage it. Why, it will be your birthday, too!'
'Yes, I shall be so glad to be seventeen. I shall feel as if baby would respect me more. Oh! I am glad you can come, but you must be good, and go to the soiree. I do think it would not be right always to leave them when they want you. Tell him so, please, Mr. Martindale.'
John did so, but Arthur made no promises, and even when the day came, they were uncertain whether they might think of him at the party, or as smoking cigars at home.
CHAPTER 5
Her scourge is felt, unseen, unheard, Where, though aloud the laughter swells, Her secret in the bosom dwells, There is a sadness in the strain As from a heart o'ercharged with pain.--The Baptistery
Theodora had come to London, hating the idea of gaieties, liking nothing but the early service and chemical lectures, and shrinking from the meeting with her former friend. She enjoyed only the prospect of the comfort her society would afford her brother, depressed by attendance on a nervous wife, in an unsatisfactory home.
No Arthur met them at the station: he had left a message that he was taking Mrs. Martindale to the Isle of Wight, and should return early on Tuesday.
Theodora stayed at home the whole of that day, but in vain. She was busied in sending out cards to canvass for her dumb boy's admission into an asylum, when a message came up to her sitting-room. She started. Was it Arthur? No; Mrs. Finch was in the drawing-room; and at that moment a light step was on the stairs, and a flutter of gay ribbons advanced. 'Ha! Theodora! I knew how to track you. The old place! Dear old school-room, how happy we have been here! Not gone out? Any one would think you had some stern female to shut you up with a tough exercise! But I believe you always broke out.'
'I stayed in to-day, expecting my brother.'
'Captain Martindale? Why, did not I see him riding with your father? Surely I did.'
'Impossible!' exclaimed Theodora.
'Yes, but I did though; I am sure of it, for he bowed. He had that sweet pretty little mare of his. Have you seen her, Theodora? I quite envy her; but I suppose he bought it for his wife; and she deserves all that is sweet and pretty, I am sure, and has it, too.'
Theodora could not recover from the thrill of pain so as to speak, and Mrs. Finch rattled on. 'She was not in good looks when I saw her, poor thing, but she looked so soft and fragile, it quite went to my heart; though Jane will have it she is deep, and gets her own way by being meek and helpless. I don't go along with Jane throughout; I hate seeing holes picked in everybody.'
'Where is Jane?'
'Gone to some charity sermonizing. She will meet some great folks there, and be in her element. I am glad to have you alone. Why, you bonny old Greek empress, you are as jolly a gipsy queen as ever! How you will turn people's heads! I am glad you have all that bright red-brown on your cheeks!'
'No self-preservation like a country life and early rising,' said Theodora, laughing. 'You have not kept yourself as well, Georgina. I am sorry to see you so thin.'
'Me! Oh, I have battered through more seasons than you have dreamt of!' said Mrs. Finch, lightly, but with a sigh. 'And had a fever besides, which disposed of all my fat. I am like a hunter in fine condition, no superfluous flesh, ready for action. And as to action- -what are you doing, Theodora?--where are you going?'
'I don't know. Mamma keeps the cards. I don't want to know anything about it.'
Georgina burst into a laugh, rather unnecessarily loud.
'Just like you! Treat it as you used your music! What can't be cured must be endured, you know. Well, you poor victim, are you going to execution to-night?'
'Not that I know of.'
'Famous! Then I'll tell you what: there is going to be a lecture on Mesmerism to-night. Wonderful! Clairvoyante tells you everything, past, present, and to come! You'll detect all the impostures; won't it be fun? I'll call for you at eight precisely.'
Theodora thought of Arthur, and that she should miss the tidings of his child; then recollected that he had not afforded her one minute's greeting. She would show him that she did not care, and therefore made the agreement.
Cold and moody she came down to dinner, but her heart was beating with disappointment at not seeing Arthur, though a place was prepared for him. Mrs. Finch was right; he had been with his father all the afternoon, but had not supposed the ladies to be at home; an explanation which never occurred to Theodora.
He came in a few minutes after they had sat down; he was heated by his hasty walk from his empty house, and his greeting was brief and disconcerted at finding himself late. His mother made her composed inquiries for the party at Ventnor, without direct mention of the child, and he replied in the same tone. His cordial first intelligence had been bestowed upon his father, and he was not disposed to volunteer communications to the sister, whose apparent gloomy indifference mortified him.
He had not sat down ten minutes before word came that Mrs. Finch was waiting for Miss Martindale. Theodora rose, in the midst of her father and brother's amazement. 'I told mamma of my arrangement to go with Georgina
