'Well,' said Theodora, smiling with what was meant for good-humour, but was only scorn, 'you need not distress yourself, my dear, I am ready to hear.'
'Would you get Mrs. Finch to ask Mrs. Bryanstone, and go with her?' Violet could really speak at no more length.
'It would be folly. Mrs. Bryanstone would be out of her element, and only a nuisance to herself and every one else. That will do. You have discharged your conscience.'
'It is not myself alone,' said Violet, sitting up, and gathering force to speak firmly and collectedly, but with her hand on her heart. 'Your brother and I both think it is not right, nor what Lord and Lady Martindale would approve, that you should join this party without some one they know and like.'
You mistake, Violet. This is not like a ball. There is no absurd conventionality, tacking a spinster to a married woman.'
'No, but since. Arthur cannot be with you, it is needful to take measures to prevent any awkwardness for you.'
'Thank you. I'll take care of that.'
'Dear Theodora, I did not mean to vex you; but will you only put yourself in our place for one moment. Your father and mother let you stay here on the understanding that you go out with us, and when we cannot go, do you think we ought to see you put yourself under the escort of a person to whom we believe they would object?'
'I have told you that I know what my own father and mother permit.'
Violet was silent, and pressed her hand on her brow, feeling as if all her prepared arguments and resolutions were chased away by the cool disregard which seemed to annihilate them even in her own eyes. By an effort, however, she cleared her mind, conjured back her steadiness, and spoke, preserving her voice with difficulty from being plaintive. 'You may know what they permit you, but we owe them duties too. Theodora, if you will not take some one with you whom we know they would approve, we must write and ask what Lord Martindale would wish.'
'Arthur will never write,' said Theodora, in defiance; but the answer took her by surprise--'If he does not, I shall.'
'If there is to be such a rout, I will not go at all.'
'Indeed I think it would be the best plan,' said Violet, removing the hand that had been hiding the springing tears, to look up beseechingly, and see whether the project were resigned, and herself spared the letter which she well knew would be left to her lot.
But for those wistful eyes, Theodora would have felt caught in her own trap; for such speeches had often brought governess, mother, and even aunt, to humble entreaties that she would take her own course. She had to recollect her words before she perceived that she had yielded, and that she must abide by them. Anything was better than the humiliation of Violets sending home complaints of her conduct. She was greatly incensed; but a glance at the gentle, imploring face, and the hands trying in vain not to tremble with nervousness, could not but turn away her wrath. It was impossible to manifest displeasure; but to speak a word of concession seemed still more impossible. She impetuously threw off her bonnet, seized a pen, dashed off a few lines, and tossed the note and its envelope into Violet's lap, saying, in her low voice of proud submission, 'There! you will send it,' and left the room. Violet read
'MY DEAR GEORGINA,--My brother is engaged at Windsor, and I cannot join your party to Richmond.
'Yours sincerely,
'TH. A. MARTINDALE.
'Mrs. Martindale is pretty well, thank you.'
Violet almost expected Theodora's next note would announce her return home. She had been forced to give up all the affection so slowly gained, and to wound her proud sister-in-law where she was most sensitive. Should she hold Theodora to this renunciation, and send the note she had extorted, or should she once more ask whether this was in earnest, and beg her to reconsider the alternative?
But Violet was convinced that Theodora intended to hear no more about the matter, and that nothing would be such an offence as to be supposed to have acted hastily. She was afraid of renewing the subject, lest her weakness should lose her what she had gained. 'Better,' thought she, 'that Theodora should think me presumptuous and troublesome than that she should mix herself up with these people, and, perhaps, displease Percy for ever. But, oh! if I could but have done it without vexing her, and to-day, too, when she has to bear with Albert.'
Violet felt that she must give way to her headache, trusting that when it had had its will it might allow her to be bright enough to make a fair show before Albert. She lay with closed eyes, her ear not missing one tick of the clock, nor one sound in the street, but without any distinct impression conveyed to her thoughts, which were wandering in the green spots in the park at Wrangerton, or in John's descriptions of the coral reefs of the West Indies. The first interruption was Sarah's bringing down the baby, whom she was forced to dismiss at once.
Again all was still, but the half slumber was soon interrupted, something cold and fragrant was laid on her brow, and, thinking Sarah would not be satisfied without attending to her, she murmured thanks, without opening her eyes. But the hand that changed the cool handkerchief was of softer texture; and, looking up, she saw Theodora bending over her, with the face so like Arthur's, and making every demonstration of kindness and attention--drawing down blinds, administering sal volatile, and doing everything in her service.
Not that Theodora was in the least subdued. She was burning with resentment with every one--with Percy and his prejudice; with the gossiping world; with her friends for making this a trial of power; with Arthur for having put forward his poor young wife when it cost her so much. 'He knew I should not have given way to him! Feebleness is a tyrant to the strong. It was like putting the women and children on the battlements of a besieged city. It was cowardly; unkind to her, unfair on me. She is a witch!'
But candour was obliged to acknowledge that it had not been feebleness that had been the conqueror. Violet had made no demonstration of going into fits; it had been her resolution, her strength, not her weakness, that had gained the victory. Chafe as Theodora might, she could not rid herself of the consciousness that the sister of that underbred attorney--that timid, delicate, soft, shrinking being, so much her junior--had dared to grapple with her fixed determination, and had gained an absolute conquest. 'Tyrant!' thought Theodora, 'my own brother would have left me alone, but she has made him let her interfere. She means to govern us all, and the show of right she had here has overthrown me for once; but it shall not happen again.'
At this juncture Theodora discovered, from the sounds in the other room, how much Violet had suffered from her effort, and her compassion was instantly excited. 'I must go and nurse her. She meant to do right, and I honour the real goodness. I am no petted child, to be cross because I have lost a pleasure.'
So she took exemplary care of Violet, read aloud, warded off noises, bribed the brass band at the other side of the square, went up to see why Johnnie was crying, carried up her luncheon, waited on her assiduously, and succeeded so well, that by the time the carriage came round, the head was in a condition to be mended by fresh air.
Mere driving out was one of Theodora's aversions. If she did not ride, she had district visiting and schooling; but to-day she went with Violet, because she thought her unfit to be tired by Matilda's commission. It proved no sinecure. The west-end workshops had not the right article; and, after trying them, Theodora pronounced that Violet must drive about in the hot streets no longer. One turn in the park, and she would set her down, and go herself into the city, if necessary, to match the pattern.
And this from Theodora, who detested fancy work, despised what she called 'dabblers in silk and wool,' and hated the sight of a Berlin shop!
Violet would not have allowed it; but Theodora threw her determination into the scale, resolved to make herself feel generous and forgiving, and not above taking any trouble to save Violet. So off she set, and was gone so long that Violet had a long rest, and came down-stairs, much revived, to welcome her brother.
Albert arrived alone. Uncle Christopher was engaged, and had charged him with his excuses, for which Violet was sorry, as he was an unpretending, sensible man, to whom she had trusted for keeping her brother in order; but Albert was of a different opinion. 'No harm,' he said. 'It was very good-natured of Martindale, but he is a queer old chap, who might not go down so well in high life,' and he surveyed his own elegant toilette.
'We get on very well,' said Violet, quietly.
'Besides,' added Albert, attempting bashfulness, 'I have a piece of intelligence, which being slightly personal, I should prefer--you understand.'
Violet was prepared by her sister's letters for the news that Albert was engaged to Miss Louisa Davis, very
