‘Mamma says nothing must be done till I am twenty-five—almost six years hence. Not then, unless I am tame and sober, and have weighed it well.’
‘Restore it?—build a church?’
‘I could have a sort of alms-house, with old people and children, and we could look after them ourselves.’
‘That would be delightful. Oh, I hope you will do it.’
‘Don’t think of it more than as a dream to myself and mamma. I could not help saying it to you just then; but it is down too deep generally even for mamma. It must come back somehow to God’s service. Don’t talk of it any more, Violet, dearest, only pray that I may not be unworthy.’
Violet could hardly believe a maiden with such hopes and purposes could be her friend, any more than Prioress Osyth herself; and when, half-an-hour afterwards, she heard Emma talking over the parish and Sunday-school news in an ordinary matter-of-fact way, she did not seem like the same person.
There were many vows of correspondence, and auguries of meeting next spring. Lady Elizabeth thought it right that her daughter should see something of London life, and the hope of meeting Violet was the one thing that consoled Emma, and Violet talked of the delight of making her friend and Annette known to each other.
To this, as Lady Elizabeth observed, Arthur said not a word. She could not help lecturing him a little on the care of his wife, and he listened with a very good grace, much pleased at their being so fond of her.
She wished them good-bye very joyously, extremely happy at having her husband again, and full of pleasant anticipations of her new home.