LITMIR.BIZ

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shall take you there, and run down pretty often; and John has been used to coddling himself all his life, so of course he will know how to take care of you.’

      ‘How kind he is, but I don’t’—she broke off, and looked at the little pinched face and shrivelled arms of the tiny creature, which she pressed more closely to her; then, with a hesitating voice, ‘Only, if it would do baby good!’

      ‘Of course it would. He can’t be well while things go on at this rate. Only ask Harding.’

      ‘I wonder whether Mr. Martindale knew it was what Mr. Harding recommended! But you would be by yourself.’

      ‘As if I had not taken care of myself for three-and-twenty years without your help!’

      ‘And all your party will be in town, so that you will not miss me.’

      ‘I shall be with you very often. Shall I tell John you accept?’

      ‘Tell him it is very kind, and I am so much obliged to him,’ said Violet, unable to speak otherwise than disconsolately.

      Accordingly the brothers agreed that Arthur should bring her to Ventnor on Saturday, if, as John expected, he could be prepared to receive her; placing much confidence in Brown’s savoir faire, though Brown was beyond measure amazed at such a disarrangement of his master’s methodical habits; and Arthur himself gave a commiserating shake of the head as he observed that there was no accounting for tastes, but if John chose to shut himself up in a lodging with the most squallingest babby in creation, he was not the man to gainsay him; and further reflected, that if a man must be a younger son, John was a model elder brother.

      Poor Violet! Her half-recovered state must be an excuse for her dire consternation on hearing it was definitively settled that she was to be carried off to Ventnor in four days’ time! How arrange for Arthur? Where find a nursemaid? What would become of the baby so far from Mr. Harding? The Isle of Wight seemed the ends of the earth—out of England! Helpless and overpowered, she was in despair; it came to Arthur’s asking, in displeasure, what she wanted—whether she meant to go or not. She thought of her drooping infant, and said at once she would go.

      ‘Well, then, what’s all this about?’

      Then came tears, and Arthur went away, declaring she did not know herself what she would be at. He had really borne patiently with much plaintiveness, and she knew it. She accused herself of ingratitude and unreasonableness, and went into a fresh agony on that score; but soon a tap at the door warned her to strive for composure. It was Sarah, and Violet felt sure that the dreaded moment was come of her giving warning; but it was only a message. ‘If you please, ma’am, there’s a young person wants to see you.’

      ‘Come as a nursery maid?’ said Violet, springing up in her nervous agitated way. ‘Do you think she will do?’

      ‘I don’t think nothing of her,’ said Sarah, emphatically. ‘Don’t you go and be in a way, ma’am; there’s no hurry.’

      ‘Yes, but there is, Sarah. Baby and I are to go next Saturday to the Isle of Wight, and I can’t take old nurse. I must have some one.’

      ‘You won’t get nobody by hurrying,’ said Sarah.

      ‘But what’s to be done, Sarah? I can’t bear giving the dear baby to a stranger, but I can’t help it.’

      ‘As for that, said Sarah, gloomily, ‘I don’t see but I could look after Master John as well as any that is like to offer for the present.’

      ‘You! Oh, that would be nice! But I thought you did not like children?’

      ‘I don’t, but I don’t mind while he is too little to make a racket, and worrit one out of one’s life. It is only for the present, till you can suit yourself, ma’am—just that you may not be lost going into foreign parts with a stranger.’

      Sarah had been nursing the baby every leisure moment, and had, during the worst part of Violet’s illness, had more to do with him than the regular nurse. This was happily settled, and all at which Violet still demurred was how the house and its master should be provided for in their absence; to which Sarah replied, ‘Mary would do well enough for he;’ and before Violet knew to which she must suppose the pronoun referred, there was a new-comer, Lady Elizabeth, telling her that Arthur had just been to beg her to come to her, saying he feared he had hurried her and taken her by surprise.

      Under such kind soothing Violet’s rational mind returned. She ceased to attempt to put herself into a vehement state of preparation, and began to take so cheerful a view of affairs that she met Arthur again in excellent spirits.

      Emma Brandon pitied her for being left alone with Mr. Martindale, but this was no subject of dread to her, and she confessed that she was relieved to escape the meeting with the rest of the family. The chief regret was, that the two friends would miss the constant intercourse with which they had flattered themselves—the only thing that made London endurable to poor Emma. She amused Violet with her lamentations over her gaieties, and her piteous accounts of the tedium of parties and balls; whereas Violet declared that she liked them very much.

      ‘It was pleasant to walk about with Arthur and hear his droll remarks, and she liked seeing people look nice and well dressed.’

      ‘Ah! you are better off. You are not obliged to dance, and you are safe, too. Now, whenever any one asks to be introduced to me I am sure he wants the Priory, and feel bound to guard it.’

      ‘And so you don’t like any one, and find it stupid?’

      ‘So I do, of course, and I hope I always shall. But oh! Violet, I have not told you that I saw that lady again this morning at the early service. She had still her white dress on, I am sure it is for Whitsuntide; and her face is so striking—so full of thought and earnestness, just like what one would suppose a novice. I shall take her for my romance, and try to guess at her history.’

      ‘To console you for your godson going away?’

      ‘Ah! it won’t do that! But it will be something to think of, and I will report to you if I make out any more about her. And mind you give me a full account of the godson.’

      Arthur wished the journey well over; he had often felt a sort of superior pity for travellers with a baby in company, and did not relish the prospect; but things turned out well; he found an acquaintance, and travelled with him in a different carriage, and little Johnnie, lulled by the country air, slept so much that Violet had leisure to enjoy the burst into country scenery, and be refreshed by the glowing beauty of the green meadows, the budding woods, and the brilliant feathery broom blossoms that gilded the embankments. At Winchester Arthur came to her window, and asked if she remembered last year.

      ‘It is the longest year of my life,’ said she. ‘Oh, don’t laugh as if I had made a bad compliment, but so much has happened!’ There was no time for more; and as she looked out at the cathedral as they moved on, she recollected her resolutions, and blamed herself for her failures, but still in a soothed and happier frame of hope.

      The crossing was her delight, her first taste of sea. There was a fresh wind, cold enough to make Arthur put on his great-coat, but to her it brought a delicious sense of renewed health and vigour, as she sat inhaling it, charmed to catch a drop of spray on her face, her eyes and cheeks brightening and her spirits rising.

      The sparkling Solent, the ships at Spithead, the hills and wooded banks, growing more defined before her; the town of Ryde and its long pier, were each a new wonder and delight, and she exclaimed with such ecstasy, and laughed so like the joyous girl she used to be, that Arthur felt old times come back; and when he handed her out of the steamer he entirely forgot the baby.

      At last she was tired with pleasure, and lay back in the carriage in languid enjoyment; fields, cottages, hawthorns, lilacs, and glimpses of sea flitting past her like pictures in a dream, a sort of waking trance that would have been broken by speaking or positive thinking.

      They stopped at a gate: she looked up and gave a cry of delight. Such a cottage as she and Annette had figured in dreams of rural bliss, gable-ends, thatch, verandah overrun with myrtle, rose, and honeysuckle, a little terrace, a steep green slope of lawn shut in with laburnum

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