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

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СКАЧАТЬ give double wages to keep her,’ said Arthur.

      ‘I’d do anything I could, but I’m afraid. I was quite dreading the getting about again, because I should have to lose Sarah, and to do something or other with that woman.’

      ‘What possessed you to keep her?’

      ‘I wasn’t sure about her. Your aunt recommended her, and I thought you might not like—and at first I did not know what things ought to cost, nor how long they ought to last, and that was what I did sums for. Then when I did prove it, I saw only dishonesty in the kitchen, and extravagance and mismanagement of my own.’

      ‘So the little goose sat and cried!’

      ‘I could not help it. I felt I was doing wrong; that was the terrible part; and I am glad you know the worst. I have been very weak and silly, and wasted your money sadly, and I did not know how to help it; and that was what made me so miserable. And now, dear Arthur, only say you overlook my blunders, and indeed I’ll try to do better.’

      ‘Overlook! The only thing I don’t know how to forgive is your having made yourself so ill with this nonsense.’

      ‘I can’t be sorry for that,’ said Violet, smiling, though the tears came. ‘That has been almost all happiness. I shall have the heart to try more than ever—and I have some experience; and now that cook is gone, I really shall get on.’

      ‘Promise me you’ll never go bothering yourself for nothing another time. Take it easy! That’s the only way to get through the world.’

      ‘Ah! I will never be so foolish again. I shall never be afraid to make you attend to my difficulties.’

      ‘Afraid! That was the silliest part of all! But here—will you have another hundred a year at once? and then there’ll be no trouble.’

      ‘Thank you, thank you! How kind of you! But do you know, I should like to try with what I have. I see it might be made to do, and I want to conquer the difficulty; if I can’t, I will ask you for more.’

      ‘Well, that may be best. I could hardly spare a hundred pounds without giving up one of the horses; and I want to see you riding again.’

      ‘Besides, this illness must have cost you a terrible quantity of money. But I dare say I shall find the outgoings nothing to what the cook made them.’ And she was taking up the accounts, when he seized them, crumpling them in his hand. ‘Nonsense! Let them alone, or I shall put them in the fire at once.’

      ‘Oh, don’t do that, pray!’ cried she, starting, ‘or I shall be ruined. Oh, pray!’

      ‘Very well;’ and rising, and making a long arm, he deposited them on the top of a high wardrobe. ‘There’s the way to treat obstinate women. You may get them down when you can go after them—I shan’t.’

      ‘Ah! there’s baby awake!’

      ‘So, I shall go after that book at the library; and then I’ve plenty to tell you of inquiries for Mrs. Martindale. Good-bye, again.’

      Violet received her babe into her arms with a languid long-drawn sigh, as of one wearied out with happiness. ‘That he should have heard my confession, and only pet me the more! Foolish, wasteful thing that I am. Oh, babe! if I could only make you grow and thrive, no one would ever be so happy as your mamma.’

      Perhaps she thought so still more some hours later, when she awoke from a long sleep, and saw Arthur reading “Emilia Wyndham”, and quite ready to defend his assertion that the wife broke open the desk with her head.

      CHAPTER 3

         But there was one fairy who was offended because she was not invited to the Christening.—MOTHER BUNCH

      Theodora had spent the winter in trying not to think of her brother.

      She read, she tried experiments, she taught at the school, she instructed the dumb boy, talked to the curate, and took her share of such county gaieties as were not beneath the house of Martindale; but at every tranquil moment came the thought, ‘What are Arthur and his wife doing!’

      There were rumours of the general admiration of Mrs. Martindale, whence she deduced vanity and extravagance; but she heard nothing more till Jane Gardner, a correspondent, who persevered in spite of scanty and infrequent answers, mentioned her call on poor Mrs. Martindale, who, she said, looked sadly altered, unwell, and out of spirits. Georgina had tried to persuade her to come out, but without success; she ought to have some one with her, for she seemed to be a good deal alone, and no doubt it was trying; but, of course, she would soon have her mother with her.

      He leaves her alone—he finds home dull! Poor Arthur! A moment of triumph was followed by another of compunction, since this was not a doll that he was neglecting, but a living creature, who could feel pain. But the anticipation of meeting Mrs. Moss, after all those vows against her, and the idea of seeing his house filled with vulgar relations, hardened Theodora against the wife, who had thus gained her point.

      Thus came the morning, when her father interrupted breakfast with an exclamation of dismay, and John’s tidings were communicated.

      I wish I had been kind to her! shot across Theodora’s mind with acute pain, and the image of Arthur in grief swallowed up everything else. ‘I will go with you, papa—you will go at once!’

      ‘Poor young thing!’ said Lord Martindale; ‘she was as pretty a creature as I ever beheld, and I do believe, as good. Poor Arthur, I am glad he has John with him.’

      Lady Martindale wondered how John came there,—and remarks ensued on his imprudence in risking a spring in England. To Theodora this seemed indifference to Arthur’s distress, and she impatiently urged her father to take her to him at once.

      He would not have delayed had Arthur been alone; but since John was there, he thought their sudden arrival might be more encumbering than consoling, and decided to wait for a further account, and finish affairs that he could not easily leave.

      Theodora believed no one but herself could comfort Arthur, and was exceedingly vexed. She chafed against her father for attending to his business—against her mother for thinking of John; and was in charity with no one except Miss Piper, who came out of Mrs. Nesbit’s room red with swallowing down tears, and with the under lady’s-maid, who could not help begging to hear if Mrs. Martindale was so ill, for Miss Standaloft said, ‘My lady had been so nervous and hysterical in her own room, that she had been forced to give her camphor and sal volatile.’

      Never had Theodora been more surprised than to hear this of the mother whom she only knew as calm, majestic, and impassible. With a sudden impulse, she hastened to her room. She was with Mrs. Nesbit, and Theodora following, found her reading aloud, without a trace of emotion. No doubt it was a figment of Miss Standaloft, and there was a sidelong glance of satisfaction in her aunt’s eyes, which made Theodora so indignant, that she was obliged to retreat without a word.

      Her own regret and compassion for so young a creature thus cut off were warm and keen, especially when the next post brought a new and delightful hope, the infant, of whose life John had yesterday despaired, was said to be improving. Arthur’s child! Here was a possession for Theodora, an object for the affections so long yearning for something to love. She would bring it home, watch over it, educate it, be all the world to Arthur, doubly so for his son’s sake. She dreamt of putting his child into his arms, and bidding him live for it, and awoke clasping the pillow!

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