than John did through the sheets, and could point to the doubtful passages. Never was work more amusing than this, interspersed with debates between the two friends, with their droll counter versions of each other's anecdotes, and Mr. Fotheringham's quizzings of John, at whom he laughed continually, though all the time it was plain that there was no one in the world whom he so much reverenced.
The solitary possession of her own mornings was now no boon to Theodora. She was necessary to no one, and all her occupations could not drive away the ever-gnawing thought that Violet attracted all the regard and attention that belonged to her. If the sensation went away when she was down-stairs, where Percy's presence obliged her to be amiable against her will, it came back with double force in her lonely moments.
One day, when they had dispersed after luncheon, her father came in, inquiring for Violet. He was going to Rickworth, and thought she would like to go with him. He wished to know, as otherwise he should ride instead of driving; and, as she was up-stairs, desired Theodora to go and find out what would suit her.
'Papa, too!' thought Theodora, as with some reluctance she for the first time knocked at her sister's door, and found her with the baby.
'How very kind!' said she. 'I should be delighted, but I don't know whether Arthur does not want me. Is he there?'
'I think he is in the library.'
'If I could but go down! But I must not take baby, and Sarah is at dinner. Should you mind holding him for one minute?'
Theodora held out her arms, but Johnnie, though usually delighted to come to her from Sarah, turned his head away, unwilling to leave his mother. He did not quite cry, but was so near it that she had to do her utmost to amuse him. She caught up something bright to hold before him, and was surprised to see it was a coral cross, which Violet, in changing her dress, had laid for a moment on the dressing- table. The coincidence was strange, thought Theodora.
Violet was coming back, and she would have laid it down, but Johnnie had grasped it in his little fingers. As his mother appeared, his merriest smile shone out, and his whole little person was one spring of eagerness to return to her.
'Little man! Is he glad to come back to his mamma?' Violet could not help saying, as he nestled joyously on her neck; but the cold face of Theodora made her sorry that the words had escaped her, and she began to express her thanks.
Theodora was stooping to pick up the cross, and a concerned exclamation passed Violet's lips on observing its fall.
'It is safe,' said Theodora. 'I beg your pardon, I took it up to amuse him.'
'Thank you,' said Violet. 'I am sorry I seemed vexed. There's no harm done; but I was frightened, because it was Helen's.'
'Helen's' exclaimed Theodora, extremely amazed. 'Did John give it to you?'
'Yes, a little while ago,' said Violet, colouring. 'He--'
But Theodora was gone, with bitterer feelings than ever. This girl was absorbing every one's love! John had never given her anything that had belonged to Helen; he had never even adverted to his engagement, when she almost adored her memory! She had never supposed him capable of speaking of his loss; and perhaps it was the hardest blow of all to find Violet, whose inquiries she had treated as mere curiosity, preferred to such confidence as this. She did not remember how she had once rejected his sympathy. She forgot whose fault it was that she had not been in the Isle of Wight; she laid it all on the proneness of men to be interested by sweetness of manner, and thought of herself as a strong-minded superior woman, who could never be loved, and who could only suffer through her woman's heart.
Yet she could not entirely harden herself as she intended, while combats with Percy cast brightening gleams across her existence. She thought she should again settle into the winter's life of hard work and indifference, which was on the whole most comfortable to her.
When the party should be broken up, Percy was to be the first to depart; he was going to publish The Crusaders, take a lodging in London, and there busy himself with literature while awaiting the fulfilment of a promise of further diplomatic employment. Arthur and Violet were also to return home after paying a visit at Rickworth, and John would soon after sail for Barbuda. In the meantime he was much engaged in going over accounts, and in consulting with his father and the man of business.
One morning, towards the end of September, he came down to Violet in the drawing-room, looking much flushed and extremely annoyed.
'Well,' he said, 'I have often declared I would never let my aunt have a discussion with me again. I have been obliged to submit to this. I hope it will be the last.'
'About the West Indian property,' said Violet.
'Yes. She does give me power to act for her; but it is dearly bought! I wish I had never asked her! Every subject that she knew to be most unpleasant to me has she stirred up! How a woman of her age can go on with her eyes fixed on these matters I cannot guess. I am sure it is a warning what one sets one's heart upon!'
'You are quite worried and tired. Oh! it has made you cough! You had better lie down and rest.'
'I want you to put me into good humour,' said he, half reclining on the sofa. 'I feel as if I had been under a nutmeg-grater! What do you think of her taking me to task for having Fotheringham here, for fear he should marry Theodora! I wish there was any such chance for her; but Percy has far too much sense!'
'Why, how could Mrs. Nesbit think it? They are always disputing!'
'I should not take that as a reason for thinking it impossible. But Percy knows her far too well. No, it is only one of my aunt's fancies. She has set her hopes on Theodora now; but it is of no use to talk of it. I don't want to dwell on it. It is too pitiable to be angry about. What are you reading?'
Violet was as glad to talk to him of her book as he was to lose the thought of his vexatious conversation, which had been even more annoying that he had chosen to tell her.
Mrs. Nesbit had taken occasion to speak of the reversion of an estate, which she said she wished to go to augment the property of the title; and now she should have no hesitation in bequeathing it to him, provided she could see him, on his side, make such a connection as would be for the consequence of the family.
John tried silence, but she drove him so hard that he was obliged to reply that, since she had begun on the subject, he had only to say that he should never marry; and, with thanks for her views, the disposal of her property would make no difference to him.
She interrupted him by reproaches on a man of his age talking romantic nonsense, and telling him that, for the sake of the family, it was his duty to marry.
'With such health as mine,' replied John, quietly, 'I have long made up my mind that, even if I could enter on a fresh attachment, it would not be right. I am not likely to live many years, and I wish to form no new ties. You will oblige me, ma'am, by not bringing forward this subject again.'
'Ay, I know what you are intending. You think it will come to Arthur and his wife; but I tell you what, Mr. Martindale, no attorney's daughter shall ever touch a sixpence of mine.'
'That is as you please, ma'am. It was not to speak of these matters that I came here; and if you have told me all you wish with regard to the property, I will leave the papers for your signature.'
She was above all provoked by his complete indifference to the wealth, her chief consideration throughout her life, and could not cease from reproaching him with absurd disregard to his own interest, at which he very nearly smiled. Then she revived old accusations, made in the earlier days of her persecution about his engagement, that he was careless of the consequence and reputation of the family, and had all his life been trying to lower it in the eyes of the world; otherwise why had he set himself to patronize that wife of Arthur's, or why bring Percy Fotheringham here, just to put his sister in the way of marrying beneath her? And when he had answered that, though he saw no probability of such an event, opinions might differ as to what was beneath Theodora, she took the last means that occurred to her for tormenting him, by predicting that Arthur's sickly little child would never live to grow up--he need not fix any hopes on him.
He escaped at last, leaving her much irritated, as Theodora presently found her. She began to complain bitterly of the ingratitude of her great-nephews, after all her labours for the family! John treating her whole fortune as if it was not worth even thanks, when she had been ready to settle the whole on him at once, as she would have done, since (and she looked sharply at Theodora) he was now free from that Fotheringham engagement; for none of that family should ever have a share in her property.
