‘I could not help it, John,’ said Percy, in apology. ‘If you had seen her and her babies, and had to leave him in that condition on her hands, you would have seen there was nothing for it but to throw a sop to the hounds, so that at least they might leave him to die in peace.’
‘It saved him! But why did you object to my father’s hearing of it?’
‘Because I knew he would dislike any sense of obligation, and that he could not conveniently pay it off. Besides, we had to keep Arthur’s mouth shut out of consideration for the blood-vessel, so I told him to let it rest till you should come. I fancy we have all been watching for you as a sort of “Deus ex Machina” to clear up the last act of the drama, though how you are to do so, I cannot conceive.’
The next day was Sunday, almost the first truly homelike Sunday of John’s life. Not only was there the churchgoing among friends and kindred after long separation, but the whole family walked thither together, as John had never known them do before; and with his mother on his arm, his little godson holding Lord Martindale’s hand, Helen skipping between her father and mother, Theodora gentle and subdued, it seemed as if now, for the first time, they had become a household of the same mind.
It was one of the most brilliant days of summer—a cloudless sky of deep blue sunshine, in which the trees seemed to bask, and the air, though too fresh to be sultry, disposing to inaction. After the second service, there was a lingering on the lawn, and desultory talk about the contrast to the West Indian Sundays, and the black woolly-headed congregation responding and singing so heartily, and so uncontrollably gay and merry.
At length, when Johnnie and Helen, who had an insatiable appetite for picaninny stories, had been summoned to supper, John and Violet found that the rest of their companions had dispersed, and that they were alone.
‘I told you that Fanshawe came home with me,’ said John. ‘The new arrangements have increased his income;’ then, as Violet looked up eagerly and hopefully,—‘he made me a confidence, at which I see you guess.’
‘I only hope mamma will not be anxious about the climate. I must tell her how well it has agreed with you.’
‘I am glad that you think there are hopes for him. It has been a long attachment, but he thought it wrong to engage her affections while he had no prospect of being able to marry.’
‘It is what we guessed!’ said Violet. ‘Dear Annette! If he is what I remember him, she must be happy.’