'I am very much grieved that it has come to this,' sighed Violet.
'How could it come to anything else?' he said, his face full of sorrow and severity. 'I was mad to suppose there was any hope for such a temper of pride and stubbornness. Yet,' he added, softening, and his quick, stern eyes filling with tears, 'it is a noble nature,- -high-minded, uncompromising, deeply tender, capable of anything. It has been a cruel wicked thing to ruin all by education. What could come of it? A life of struggle with women who had no notion of an appeal to principle and affection--growing up with nothing worthy of her love and respect--her very generosity becoming a stumbling-block, till her pride and waywardness have come to such an indomitable pitch that they are devouring all that was excellent.'
He paused; Violet, confused and sorrowful, knew not how to answer; and he proceeded, 'I have known her, watched her, loved her from infancy! I never saw one approaching her in fine qualities. I thought, and still think, she needs but one conquest to rise above all other women. I believed guidance and affection would teach her all she needed; and so they would, but it was presumption and folly to think it was I who could inspire them.'
'O, Mr. Fotheringham, indeed--'
'It was absurd to suppose that she who trifles with every one would not do so with me. Yet, even now, I cannot believe her capable of carrying trifling to the extent she has done.'
'She was in earnest,--oh! she was!'
'I would fain think so,' said he, sadly. 'I held to that trust, in spite of the evidence of my senses. I persuaded myself that her manners were the effect of habit--the triumph of one pre-eminent in attraction.'
'That they are! I don't even think she knows what she does.'
'So I believed; I allowed for her pleasure in teasing me. I knew all that would come right. I ascribed her determination to run after that woman to a generous reluctance to desert a friend.'
'Indeed, indeed it is so!'
'But how am I to understand her neglect of my aunt--the one relation whom I have tried to teach her to value--my aunt, who was the comfort of my sister and of her brother--who had suffered enough to give her a claim to every one's veneration! To run away from her to the races, and the society of Mark Gardner and Mrs. Finch! Ay, and what do you think we heard yesterday of her doings there, from Gardner's own mother? That she is giving him decided encouragement! That was the general remark, and on this, poor Mrs. George Gardner is founding hopes of her son settling down and becoming respectable.'
'Oh! how terrible for you to hear! But it cannot be true. It must be mere report. Arthur would have observed if there had been more than her usual manner.'
'A pretty manner to be usual! Besides, Jane Gardner did not deny it.'
'Jane Gardner?'
'Yes. My aunt called at Mrs. Finch's, but saw neither of them; but this morning, before she went, Miss Gardner called. I did not see her. I was out with Pelham, and my aunt spoke to her about all this matter. She answered very sensibly, regretted her sister's giddy ways, but consoled my aunt a good deal on that score, but--but as to the other, she could not say, but that Mark was a great admirer of-- of Miss Martindale, and much had passed which might be taken for encouragement on Wednesday by any one who did not know how often it was her way!'
'It is a pity that Miss Gardner has had to do with it,' said Violet. 'When I have been talking to her, I always am left with a worse impression of people than they deserve.'
'You never have a bad impression of any one.'
'I think I have of Miss Gardner. I used to like her very much, but lately I am afraid I cannot believe her sincere.'
'You have been taught to see her with Theodora's eyes. Of course, Mrs. Finch despises and contemns prudence and restraint, and the elder sister's advice is thrown aside.'
'You never saw Jane Gardner?'
'Never;--but that is not the point here. I am not acting on Jane Gardner's report. I should never trouble myself to be jealous of such a scoundrel as Mark. I am not imagining that there is any fear of her accepting him. Though, if such a notion once possessed her, nothing would hinder her from rushing on inevitable misery.'
'Oh, there is no danger of that.'
'I trust not. It would be too frightful! However, I can look on her henceforth only as John's sister, as my little playmate, as one in whom hopes of untold happiness were bound up.' He struggled with strong emotion, but recovering, said, 'It is over! The reason we part is independent of any Gardner. She would not bear with what I thought it my duty to say. It is plain I was completely mistaken in thinking we could go through life together. Even if there was reason to suppose her attached to me, it would be wrong to put myself in collision with such a temper. I told her so, and there is an end of the matter.'
'It is very, very sad,' said Violet, mournfully.
'You don't think I have used her ill.'
'Oh, no! You have borne a great deal. You could do no otherwise; but Arthur and John will be very much vexed.'
'It is well that it is known to so few. Let it be understood by such as are aware of what has been, that I bear the onus of the rupture. No more need be known than that the break was on my side. We both were mistaken. She will not be blamed, and some day'--but he could not speak calmly--' she will meet one who will feel for her as I do, and will work a cure of all these foibles. You will see the glorious creature she can be.'
'The good will conquer at last,' said Violet, through her tears.
'I am convinced of it, but I fear it must be through much trial and sorrow. May it only not come through that man.'
'No, no!'
'Then good-bye.'
They shook hands with lingering regret, as if unwilling to resign their relationship. 'You will explain this to Arthur, and give him my thanks for his friendliness; and you--accept my very best thanks for your great kindness and sympathy. If she had known you earlier-- But good-bye. Only, if I might venture to say one thing more--you and Arthur will not give me up as a friend, will you?'
'Oh!' exclaimed Violet, as well as her tears would permit, 'I am sure we are but too glad--'
He pressed her hand gratefully, and was gone; while overwhelmed with the agitation she sank weeping on the sofa, only conscious that they all were in some sort guilty of a great injury to Mr. Fotheringham. In this state of distress she was found by Theodora, who came down so lofty and composed, that no one could have divined who was the party chiefly concerned in what had taken place.
Without comment, she treated Violet as for a nervous attack, taking great care of her till the sobs subsided, and there only remained a headache which kept her on the sofa for the rest of the day. Theodora read aloud, but which of them marked the words? Late in the afternoon she put down the book, and wrote a note, while Violet silently marvelled at the unconcern of her countenance.
'There, I shall take it to the post. You may read it if you like, while I put on my bonnet.' Violet read.
'MY DEAR MAMMA,--Our engagement is at an end. Mr. Fotheringham tried to exercise a control over my actions to which I could not submit; and in especial was affronted by my going to Epsom with Arthur, instead of staying at home for the chance of seeing Lady Fotheringham. We came to high words, perceived the error of thinking our tempers accorded, and agreed to part. I have no cause of complaint, though I am at this moment much displeased with him; for when he had done with me he went and stormed to poor Violet till he brought on one of her hysterical affections. No one can have acted with kinder or more conscientious intentions than she has done throughout the affair. I do not mean to come away till after her confinement. London is wide enough for him and for me, and I would not leave her on any account. 'Your affectionate daughter,
'THEODORA A. MARTINDALE.'
Violet glowed with indignation at such mention of Percy. She never loved him! It is as John thought!
Theodora, returning, took the note, and began to put it into its envelope without a word.
'Thank you,' said Violet; 'it is very kind in you to stay with me. It is a great comfort to Arthur.'
'Is it no comfort to you?' said Theodora. 'If I am in your way, I will go.'
'Oh! what should I do without you? It makes such a difference to me. I rely upon you to take care of Arthur, and Johnnie, and everything. Only don't do what is not pleasant to you.'
'I wish to live to be useful. I had rather be useful to you and Arthur than to any one. If you will keep me, I stay.'
