‘Arthur will never write,’ said Theodora, in defiance; but the answer took her by surprise—‘If he does not, I shall.’
‘If there is to be such a rout, I will not go at all.’
‘Indeed I think it would be the best plan,’ said Violet, removing the hand that had been hiding the springing tears, to look up beseechingly, and see whether the project were resigned, and herself spared the letter which she well knew would be left to her lot.
But for those wistful eyes, Theodora would have felt caught in her own trap; for such speeches had often brought governess, mother, and even aunt, to humble entreaties that she would take her own course. She had to recollect her words before she perceived that she had yielded, and that she must abide by them. Anything was better than the humiliation of Violets sending home complaints of her conduct. She was greatly incensed; but a glance at the gentle, imploring face, and the hands trying in vain not to tremble with nervousness, could not but turn away her wrath. It was impossible to manifest displeasure; but to speak a word of concession seemed still more impossible. She impetuously threw off her bonnet, seized a pen, dashed off a few lines, and tossed the note and its envelope into Violet’s lap, saying, in her low voice of proud submission, ‘There! you will send it,’ and left the room. Violet read
‘MY DEAR GEORGINA,—My brother is engaged at Windsor, and I cannot join your party to Richmond.
‘Yours sincerely,
‘TH. A. MARTINDALE.
‘Mrs. Martindale is pretty well, thank you.’
Violet almost expected Theodora’s next note would announce her return home. She had been forced to give up all the affection so slowly gained, and to wound her proud sister-in-law where she was most sensitive. Should she hold Theodora to this renunciation, and send the note she had extorted, or should she once more ask whether this was in earnest, and beg her to reconsider the alternative?
But Violet was convinced that Theodora intended to hear no more about the matter, and that nothing would be such an offence as to be supposed to have acted hastily. She was afraid of renewing the subject, lest her weakness should lose her what she had gained. ‘Better,’ thought she, ‘that Theodora should think me presumptuous and troublesome than that she should mix herself up with these people, and, perhaps, displease Percy for ever. But, oh! if I could but have done it without vexing her, and to-day, too, when she has to bear with Albert.’