My Dear!
“But still be a woman to you.”
Early the next morning Virginia received a letter from Alvar, written at intervals during his night watch in Cheriton’s room. Perhaps it was the first real communication she had ever received from him, and in it he made a sort of confession of his shortcomings, as far as he himself understood them. He told her that he had been “revengeful” towards his father, and that in the affair of the Flemings he had allowed “the passion of jealousy” to overcome him. He recounted his promise to Cheriton, and with the simplicity that was at once so strange and so engaging a part of his character, assured her “that he was no longer indifferent to religion,” but would follow the instructions of Mr Ellesmere. “I think,” he added, “that this will give you pleasure.”
There was a great deal about Cheriton, Alvar declaring that he could not now despair of anything, but that he should have written to her at such a time, and about himself, was enough to mark the change in his former relations with Virginia.
The change in himself she was ready to take for granted. All must be right where there was such humility and power of repentance; and perhaps she did him more justice than even Cheriton could have done. For Alvar had undergone no change of intellectual conviction, that element was wanting, both in his former carelessness, and in his present acceptance of a new obligation, and in the excitement of feeling under which he was acting love and remorse towards his brother had the largest share. But he had recognised himself as erring, and intended to amend, and such a resolution must bring a blessing. But as his brothers would only have altered any settled line of conduct, after infinite heart-searchings and perplexities, they could not have conceived how simple the matter appeared to Alvar, when he had once made up his mind that he could possibly have been in fault.
Virginia had said nothing the night before of her changed prospects; she knew that the Lesters could have no thought to spare for her; but when her aunt suggested sending over to inquire, she could not pretend ignorance, and her blush and few words of explanation were enough for Miss Seyton.
“Ah, well,” she said, “you might have saved yourselves a great deal of trouble if you had found this out a little sooner.”
“We cannot speak of it just now, auntie.”
“No; but you say, don’t you, that everything happens for good? Now this good has come out of Cherry’s illness; perhaps he’ll get well.”
After these characteristic congratulations Virginia took her way to the vicarage. She found her uncle in his “study,” a room which was sufficiently well lined with ancient and orthodox divinity to merit the name, though the highly respectable volumes, descended from some unwontedly learned Seyton vicar, did not often see the light.