Heartsease; Or, The Brother's Wife. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ had a bad cold last week, but it is quite gone now. I hope he will soon come in.’

      ‘I am not sorry to have found you alone. I want to hear something of these relations of yours.’

      ‘Oh! I shall be sure to say something wrong!’ thought she, and as the best thing to put forward, announced that they would soon be in London.

      ‘And they are not high with you? I hear fine accounts of their grandeur,—they say the lady and her daughter are eaten up with pride, and think no one fit to speak to.’

      ‘Miss Martindale has the plainest ways in the world. She will do anything for the poor people.’

      ‘Ay, ay, that’s the way with fine ladies,—they like to be condescending and affable. And so you say they receive you well? make you one of the family—eh?’

      Violet hoped it was not wrong to utter a faint ‘yes.’

      ‘Does Martindale’s sister write to you?’

      ‘No; she does not write letters much. But I told you how very kind they are—Mr. Martindale, his brother, especially.’

      ‘Ay!’ said Albert, ‘he disconcerted our calculations. He seems to have taken out a new lease.’

      ‘He is a great deal better.’

      ‘But he has no lungs left. His life can’t be worth a year’s purchase, by what the governor heard. He would never have let Martindale have you on such easy terms if he had not looked on you as good as her ladyship.’

      Such shame and disgust came over Violet that she felt unworthy to sit on John Martindale’s chair, and moved to the sofa, trying to change the subject; but Albert persisted in inquiries about Mr. Martindale’s age, health, and the likelihood of his marrying, till she could no longer be without the perception that not only had her husband been to blame for their marriage—her father’s part had been far worse.

      Albert hoped the old lord was coming down handsomely and tried to make her tell their income. She was glad not to know and he began calculating it from their style of living, with such disregard to her feelings, as made her contrast his manners with those of the true gentlemen to whom she was now accustomed, and feel sadly that there was reason in her husband’s wish to keep her family at a distance. There was no checking or silencing this elder brother; she could only feel humiliated by each proof of his vulgarity of mind, and blame herself, by turns, for churlishness to him, and for permitting conversation Arthur would so much dislike.

      Why would not Arthur come and put a stop to it! It was not the first time she had waited dinner for him in vain, and though she tried to make Albert think she liked it, she knew she was a very bad dissembler.

      When she at length ordered in dinner, the conversation changed to Wrangerton doings, the Christmas gaieties, jokes about her sisters and their imputed admirers, and a Miss Louisa Davies—a new-comer, about whom Albert seemed to wish to be laughed at himself. But poor Violet had no spirits even to perceive this,—she only thought of home and the familiar scenes recalled by each name. What a gulf between her and them! In what free, careless happiness they lived! What had her father done in thrusting her into a position for which she was unfit,—into a family who did not want her, and upon one to whom she was only a burthen! At home they thought her happy and fortunate! They should never guess at her wretchedness.

      But when the time for Albert’s departure came, Violet forgot his inconvenient questions, and would have given the world to keep him. He was her own brother—a part of home; he loved her—she had felt inhospitable to him, and perhaps she should never see him again.

      When he recurred to her pale looks and languid manner, and expressed concern, it was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears, and telling all her griefs; and she could not control the rapid agitated tones that belied her repeated assurances that nothing was amiss, and that he must not give a bad account of her and alarm her mother.

      She could hardly let him go; and when he bade her goodbye, there was a moment’s intense desire to be going with him, from this lonely room, home to her mother and Annette, instantly followed by a horror at such a wish having occurred, and then came the sobs and tears. She dreaded that Arthur might be displeased at the visit; but he came home full of good humour, and on hearing of it, only hoped she had good news from Wrangerton, and said he was glad he had been out of the way, so that she had been able to have her brother all to herself.

      Her fears of the effect of Albert’s account of her were better founded; for two mornings after, on coming down to breakfast, she found a letter from her mother to exhort her to be careful, assuring her that she need have no scruple in sending for her, and betraying so much uneasiness as to add to all her terrors. She saw this in one glance; for she knew that to dwell on the tender affectionate letter would bring on a fit of weeping, and left it and the dreadful consideration of her reply till Arthur should be gone, as he was to spend the day in fishing with a friend in the country. He had come home late last night, and was not yet dressed, and she waited long, gazing at the gleams of sunshine on the square gardens, thinking how bright this second day of April must be anywhere but here, where it was close and oppressive, and wondering whether Helvellyn was beginning to lose his snow; then, as Helvellyn brought the sensation that led to tears, she took the newspaper, and had read more than she cared for before Arthur appeared, in the state of impatience which voluntary lateness is sure to produce.

      She gave him his tea as quickly as she could, but all went wrong: it was a horrid cold day, ALL east wind—there was a cold wind coming in somewhere.

      ‘The back drawing-room window! I’m sorry I did not see it was open.’

      ‘What makes you go to shut it?’ said he, hastily marching across the room, and closing it and the doors. ‘I shall be gone in a moment, and you may let in a hurricane if you like. Have you seen my cigar-case!’

      ‘It was on the ledge of your wardrobe.’

      ‘Some of your maids have been and hid it.’

      ‘I told Sarah never to put your things away. I think I could find it.’

      ‘No, don’t go, I have looked everywhere.’

      As he never found things, even when before his eyes, this was not conclusive; and she undertook the search in spite of another careless ‘No, no, don’t,’ knowing it meant the contrary.

      She could not find it in his dressing-room, and he looked annoyed, again accusing the maids. This made her feel injured, and though growing exhausted, as well she might, as she had not even begun breakfast, she said she would look in the sitting-room. He half remonstrated, without looking up from the paper, but she hoped to be gladdened by thanks, hunted in all his hiding-places in vain, and found she must give it up, after a consultation with Sarah, who resentfully denied all knowledge of it, and told her she looked ready to drop.

      Dolefully coming into the hall, she saw Arthur’s black travelling-bag. Was it for more than the day? The evenings were bad enough—but a desolate night! And he had never told her!’

      ‘I suppose you have not found it?’

      ‘No; I wish I could!’

      ‘Never mind; it will turn up. You have tired yourself.’

      ‘But, Arthur, are you not coming home to-night?’

      ‘Didn’t I tell you? If I can’t get away by the seven o’clock train, I thought of sleeping there. Ten o’clock, I declare! I shall miss the train!’

      She СКАЧАТЬ