‘I only wish to consult your happiness, my dear child.’
‘And that always was in fancying myself necessary,’ said Theodora, gaily, though there was a trembling in her voice; and when she went up to her own room, she hid her face in her hands, and felt as if life was very dreary and uninteresting, and as if it was a miserable exile to be sent into the country just now, to have to force cheerful conversation for her mother, and to be wearied with Helen’s wild spirits. ‘But have I not deserved everything? And after my brother has been spared so far, how can I repine at any selfish trouble?’
CHAPTER 12
Herself, almost heartbroken now,
Was bent to take the vestal vow,
And shroud, within St. Hilda’s gloom,
Her wasted hopes and withered bloom.
—SCOTT
Violet, when called to consult with her father-in-law in the outer room, felt a sort of blank apprehension and consternation at the idea of being separated from her children; and a moment’s reflection satisfied her that in one case at least she might rightly follow the dictates of her own heart. She said that she thought Johnnie could not be spared by his papa.
Lord Martindale’s eye followed hers, and through the half-closed door saw Johnnie, sitting on the bed, reading to his father, who listened with amused, though languid attention.
‘I believe you are right,’ he said; ‘though I wish I had the boy in the country doing no lessons. He puts me more in mind of his uncle every day.’
‘One of the highest compliments Johnnie has ever had,’ said Violet, colouring with pleasure; ‘but I am afraid to trust him away from me and Mr. Harding in the winter because of his croup.’
‘Ah! then it cannot be,’ he answered; ‘and I do not think I would take him from his father now, but his sisters must come; they would be too much for you without Theodora.’