‘You will forgive me if I accept him?’
‘I shall know it is all right. I trust you, dear sister.’
‘Tell me something to help me!’
Violet drew out Helen’s cross. ‘Be patient, be patient,’ she said. ‘The worse things are, the more of the cross to be borne.’
Theodora held out her hand for it. ‘I hope I am mending,’ said she, as she gave it back with a melancholy smile. ‘It does not give me the bad jealous thoughts I had when first I knew you possessed it. Tell me something to make me patient.’
‘May I tell you what came into my head after you were talking last night of not seeing your way, and wanting to be led. I thought of a verse in Isaiah.’ Violet found the place and showed it.
‘Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of His servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light? Let him trust in the name of the Lord and stay upon his God.’
‘Thank you, Violet,’ said Theodora, looking on to the next verse. ‘I will try to be patient; I will try not to kindle a fire for myself. But if they tease me much, if I am very weary—’
The summons cut her short—Lord Martindale ran up to hasten her; a fervent embrace—she was gone!
And Violet, with worn-out strength and spirits, remained to find how desolate she was—left behind in dreary summer London. There was nothing for it but to be as foolish as in old times, to lie down on the sofa and cry herself to sleep. She was a poor creature, after all, and awoke to weariness and headache, but to no repining; for she had attained to a spirit of thankfulness and content. She lay dreamily, figuring to herself Arthur enjoying himself on the moors and mountains, till Helvellyn’s own purple cap came to brighten her dreams.