Still she hesitated. She had heard of pique driving persons to make a fresh choice, when a former attachment appeared obliterated by indignation, only to revive too late, and to be the misery of all parties. Percy’s late words, harsh when he fancied them indifferent, made her doubtful whether it might not be so in his case. In his sound principle she had entire confidence, but he might be in error as to the actual state of his sentiments; and she knew that she should dread, for the peace of mind of all parties, his first meeting, as her sister’s husband, with either Miss Martindale, or the Countess of St. Erme.
She decided that Annette ought to hear the whole, so as to act with her eyes open. If she had been engaged, she should never have heard what was past, but she should not encourage him while ignorant of the circumstances, and, these known, Violet had more reliance on her judgment than on her own. The breach of confidence being thus justified, Violet resolved, and as they sat together late in the evening, found an opportunity of beginning the subject. ‘We used to expect a closer connection with him, or I should never have learnt to call him Percy—’
‘You told me about poor Mr. Martindale.’
‘Yes, but this was to have been a live connection. He was engaged to Theodora.’
Violet was satisfied that the responding interjection was more surprised and curious than disappointed. She related the main features of the story, much to Annette’s indignation.
‘Why, Violet, you speak as if you were fond of her!’
‘That I am. If you knew how noble and how tender she can be! So generous when most offended! Oh! no one can know her without a sort of admiring love and pity.’
‘I do not understand. To me she seems inexcusable.’
‘No, no, indeed, Annette! She has had more excuse than almost any one. It makes one grieve for her to see how the worse nature seems to have been allowed to grow beyond her power, and how it is like something rending her, when right and wrong struggle together for the mastery.’
So many questions ensued, that Violet found her partial disclosure had rendered the curtain over Martindale affairs far less impenetrable; but she had spoken no sooner than was needful, for the very next morning’s post brought an envelope, containing a letter for Miss Moss, and a few lines addressed to herself:—