Violet did not think he quite knew what he undertook, and her heart sank at the idea of a London winter, with his health and spirits failing for want of his usual resources. He imagined himself perfectly recovered; but when he went the next day to show himself to the doctor, the stethoscope revealed that the damage was not so entirely removed but that the greatest care would be necessary for some time to come. It sat lightly on him; his spirits depended on his sensations, and he had no fears but that a few months would remove all danger; and Violet would say no word of misgiving. She would have felt that to remonstrate would have been to draw him back, after his first step in the path of resolute self-denial.
CHAPTER 17
On Sunday, Heaven’s gate stands ope,
Blessings are plentiful and rife,
More plentiful than hope.
—G. HERBERT
‘Five years! How little can letters convey the true state of affairs! They can but record events—not their effects nor the insensible changes that may have taken place. My aunt’s death I know, but not what my mother is without her. I have heard of my father’s cares, but I have yet to see whether he is aged or broken. And Theodora, she has had many trials, but what can she be—tamed and refined as they tell me she is? I wish I could have gone through London to see Arthur and Violet. There again is the anxious question, whether his repentance is really such as his touching letter led me to hope. One at least I trust to see unchanged—my sweet sister, my best correspondent! Foolish it is to cling to the hope of meeting her again, as that vision of loveliness—that creature of affection and simplicity, that first awoke me to a return of cheerfulness! The boy, too—my godson, my child! he has been the dream of my solitude. At last, here is the village. How bright its welcome, this summer evening! Old faces!—may those at home be as unchanged. Alteration enough here! Even at this distance I see the ruin; but how richly green the park! How fresh the trees, and the shade of the avenue! This is home, thanks to Him who has led me safely back. Whom do I see yonder in the avenue? A gentleman leading a pony, and a little boy on it! Can it be?—impossible! Yet the step and manner are just as he used to lead Violet’s horse, Surely, it must be he! I must meet him and hear all before going up to the house, it will prepare them. Stop here.
He was out of the carriage in a moment, and walking down the avenue, feeling as if he only now was in the right way home; but a misgiving crossing him as he came nearer the two figures that had attracted him—there was less resemblance on a nearer view than in the general air when further off.
A shout—‘Hollo, John!’ settled all doubts.
‘Arthur! is it you?’ and the brothers’ hands were locked together.
‘Here is a gentleman you know something of, and who has thought very much of you,’ continued Arthur, proudly. ‘There, is not he like her?’ as he tried to give a cock-up to the limp, flapping straw hat, under shade of which Johnnie was glowing up to his curls.
‘Her very look!’ said John. ‘How is she, Arthur, and all of them?’