'Don't be uneasy,' said Theodora; 'I'll settle it.'
'But,' exclaimed Violet, 'I could not bear that you should be with me if they want you.'
'That is not it; papa has something in his head; I will settle it.'
Violet knew what was indicated by the over-erectness of Theodora's head. To be the cause of family discussion was frightful, but she had a nervous dread of thwarting Theodora.
'I wish you would not look at me,' exclaimed Theodora.
'I beg your pardon,' sighed she.
'What's the use of that when I know you are not satisfied, and do not trust me?'
'Don't be angry with me,' implored Violet, with a quivering voice, and tears of weakness in her eyes. 'I cannot help it. I do not want to interfere, but as it is for me, I must beg you to tell me you are not pressing to stay with me when Lady Martindale wishes for you.'
'No one ever wants me. No, but papa thinks that you and I cannot be trusted together. He says he cannot leave me with one who has so little authority.'
That indignant voice contrasted with the gentle answer, 'I do not wonder; I have always thought if I had been older and better able to manage--'
'No such thing!' exclaimed Theodora; 'you are the only person who ever exercised any control over me.'
'O, hush! you do not know what you are saying.'
'It is the truth, and you know it. When you choose, every one yields to you, and so do I.'
'Indeed, I did not know it,' said Violet, much distressed. 'I am very sorry if I am overbearing; I did not think I was.'
Theodora fairly laughed at such a word being applied to the mild, yielding creature, who looked so pale and feeble. 'Very domineering, indeed!' she said. 'No, no, my dear, it is only that you are always right. When you disapprove, I cannot bear to hurt and grieve you, because you take it so quietly.'
'You are so very kind to me.'
'So, if papa wishes me to come to good, he had better leave me to you.'
'I don't think that ought to be,' said Violet, feebly.
'What, not that you should be my only chance--that you should calm me and guide me when every one else has failed--'
'Theodora, dear, I do not think I ought to like to hear you say so. It cannot be safe for you to submit to me rather than to your father.'
'He never had any moral power over me. He never convinced me, nor led me to yield my will,' said Theodora, proud perhaps of her voluntary submission to her gentle sister-in-law, and magnifying its extent; but Violet was too right-minded, in her simplicity, to be flattered by an allegiance she knew to be misplaced.
'I should not like baby to say so by and by,' she whispered.
'There's an esprit de corps in parents,' cried Theodora, half angrily; 'but Helen will never be like me. She will not be left to grow up uncared for and unloved till one-and-twenty, and then, when old enough for independence, be for the first time coerced and reproached. If people never concern themselves about their children, they need not expect the same from them as if they had brought them up properly.'
'That is a sad thought,' pensively said the young mother.
'I declare you shall hear the letter, that you may own that it is unreasonable--unbearable!' And she read--
''I have been considering your request to spend the time of our absence at home with Mrs. Martindale, but I cannot think fit to comply with it. Arthur's income is fully sufficient to provide change of air for his family; and he ought not to expect always to leave his wife on other people's hands, while he is pursuing his own diversions.''
Theodora was glad to see that this did rouse Violet's indignation.
'Oh! he does not know. Do tell him it was all your kindness! Tell him that Arthur is not going for long. He must not think such things.'
'He thinks much more injustice,' said Theodora. 'Listen:--'After so long an absence, it is high time you should rejoin us; and, considering what has occurred, you cannot be surprised that I should be unwilling to leave you with one so young and of so little authority over you. Though I acquit her of all blame for your indiscretions--' (There, Violet, I hope you are much obliged to him!) 'I should not have consented to your remaining with her up to the present time, if it had not been a case of urgent necessity, as I wish to have you under my own eye.' (As if he had ever made any use of it?) 'You might as well be alone here as with her; and, after your late conduct, I cannot put the confidence in your prudence that I should desire. Violet has, I have no doubt, acted amiably; and her youth, inexperience, and gentleness fully excuse her in my eyes for having been unable to restrain you; but they are reasons sufficient to decide me on not leaving you with her at present. We shall be in London on Monday, the llth, and I wish you to be in readiness to join us when we embark for Ostend on the following evening. Give my kind love to Violet, and tell her I am glad she is going on well, and that I am much pleased with my grand-daughter's intended name.' There, Violet, what do you think of that?'
'Pray make him understand that Arthur wanted a change very much, and will not be long gone.'
'Arthur! You cannot feel for any one else!'
'I did not mean to be selfish!' said Violet, sorry for having seemed to be wanting in sympathy.
'No, indeed! You never think what would become of you left alone, with two babies that cannot walk!'
'Never mind me, I shall manage very well, I don't like to have a disturbance made on my account. I cannot think how you can hesitate after such a letter as this.'
'That is the very thing. He would never have dared to say these things to my face! Now let me tell you. I know I have been much to blame; you made me feel it. You are taming me; and if he leaves me to you I may be more dutiful when he comes back. But if he strains his new notion of authority too far, and if you throw me off, I shall be driven to do what will grieve and disappoint you.'
'But surely,' said Violet, 'it cannot be the right beginning of being dutiful to resist the first thing that is asked of you.'
'You wish me to go to be fretted and angered! to be without one employment to drown painful thoughts, galled by attempts at controlling me; my mind poisoned by my aunt, chilled by my mother--to be given up to my worse nature, without perhaps even a church to go to!'
'It is very hard,' said Violet; 'but if we are to submit, it cannot be only when we see fit. Would it not be better to make a beginning that costs you something?'
'And lose my hope of peaceful guidance!'
'I do believe,' said Violet, 'that if you go patiently, because it is your duty, that you will be putting yourself under the true guidance; but for you to extort permission to stay with me, when your father disapproves, would be only following your own way. I should be afraid. I will not undertake it, for it would not be right, and mischief would be sure to ensue.'
'Then you give me up?'
'Give you up! dear, dear sister;' and Violet rose and threw her arms round Theodora. 'No, indeed! When I am so glad that I may love you as I always wished! I shall think of you, and write to you, and pray for you,' whispered she. 'All I can I will do for you, but you must not say any more of staying with me now. I can help you better in my right place than out of it.'
Theodora returned the caress and quitted the room, leaving Violet to her regrets and fears. It was a great sacrifice of herself, and still worse, of her poor little pale boy, and she dreaded that it might be the ruin of the beneficial influence which, to her amazement, she found ascribed to her, in the most unexpected quarter. It had gone to her heart to refuse Theodora's kindness, and all that was left for her was to try to still her fluttering, agitated spirits by the consciousness that she had striven to do right, and by the prayer that all might work for good.
Indeed, it was very remarkable how, in this critical period of Theodora's life, when repentance was engaged in so severe a conflict with her long-nourished pride and passion, in all the tossings of her mind she had, as it were, anchored herself to her docile, gentle sister-in-law, treating her like a sort of embodiment of her better mind. Violet's serenity and lowliness seemed to breathe peace on a storm-tossed ocean; and her want of self-assertion to make Theodora proud of submitting to her slightest wish without a struggle. Those vehement affections were winding themselves about her and her children; and the temper that had flown into fierce insubordination at the first control from lawful authority, laid itself at the feet of one whose power was in meekness. It was the lion
