Heartsease; Or, The Brother's Wife

Something shrill ensued, cut short by, ‘Mrs. Martindale does as she pleases. Send up Captain Fitzhugh’s trout.’

A loud reply, in a higher key.

‘Don’t tell me of the families where you have lived—the trout!’

Here John’s hand was laid upon his arm, with a sign towards his wife’s room; whereupon he ran down-stairs, driving the cook before him.

Soon he came hastily up, storming about the woman’s impertinence, and congratulating himself on having paid her wages and got rid of her.

John asked what was to be done next? and was diverted with his crestfallen looks, when asked what was to become of Violet.

However, when Sarah was consulted, she gravely replied, ‘She thought as how she could contrive till Mrs. Martindale was about again;’ and the corners of her mouth relaxed into a ghastly smile, as she replied, ‘Yes, sir,’ in answer to her master’s adjurations to keep the dismissal a secret from Mrs. Martindale.

‘Ay!’ said John, ‘I wish you joy of having to tell her what revolutions you have made.’

‘I’ll take care of that, if the women will only hold their tongues.’

They were as guarded as he could wish, seeing as plainly as he did, how fretting over her household matters prolonged her state of weakness. It was a tedious recovery, and she was not able even to receive a visit from John till the morning when the cough, always brought on by London air, obliged him reluctantly to depart.

He found her on the sofa, wrapped in shawls, her hair smoothed back under a cap; her shady, dark eyes still softer from languor, and the exquisite outline of her fair, pallid features looking as if it was cut out in ivory against the white pillows. She welcomed him with a pleased smile; but he started back, and flushed as if from pain, and his hand trembled as he pressed hers, then turned away and coughed.

‘Oh, I am sorry your cough is so bad,’ said she.

‘Nothing to signify,’ he replied, recovering. ‘Thank you for letting me come to see you. I hope you are not tired?’

‘Oh, no, thank you. Arthur carried me so nicely, and baby is so good this morning.’

‘Where is he? I was going to ask for him.’

‘In the next room. I want to show him to you, but he is asleep.’

‘A happy circumstance,’ said Arthur, who was leaning over the back of her sofa.

‘No one else can get in a word when that gentleman is awake.’

‘Now, Arthur, I wanted his uncle to see him, and say if he is not grown.’

‘Never mind, Violet,’ said Arthur. ‘Nurse vouches for it, that the child who was put through his mother’s wedding-ring grew up to be six feet high!’

‘Now, Arthur! you know it was only her bracelet.’

‘Well, then, our boy ought to be twelve feet high; for if you had not stuffed him out with long clothes, you might put two of him through your bracelet.’

‘If nurse would but have measured him; but she said it was unlucky.’

‘She would have no limits to her myths; however, he may make a show in the world by the time John comes to the christening.’

‘Ah!’ said Violet, with a sweet, timid expression, and a shade of red just tinting her cheek as she turned to John. ‘Arthur said I should ask you to be his godfather.’

‘My first godchild!’ said John. ‘Thank you, indeed; you could hardly have given me a greater pleasure.’

‘Thank you,’ again said Violet. ‘I like so much for you to have him,—you who,’ she hesitated, unable to say the right words, ‘who DID IT before his papa or I saw the little fellow;’ then pausing—’ Oh, Mr. Martindale, Sarah told me all about it, and I have been longing to thank you, only I can’t!’ and her eyes filling with tears, she put her hand into his, glancing at the cathedral cup, which was placed on the mantel-shelf. ‘It was so kind of you to take that.’

‘I thought you would like it,’ said John; ‘and it was the most ecclesiastical thing I could find.’

‘I little thought it would be my Johnnie’s font,’ said Violet, softly. ‘I shall always feel that I have a share in him beyond my fellow-sponsors.’

‘O, yes, he belongs to you,’ said Violet; ‘besides his other godfather will only be Colonel Harrington, and his godmother—you have written to ask your sister, have you not, Arthur?’

‘I’d as soon ask Aunt Nesbit,’ exclaimed Arthur, ‘I do believe one cares as much as the other.’

‘You must send for me when you are well enough to take him to church,’ said John.

‘That I will. I wish you could stay for it. He will be a month old to-morrow week, but it may wait, I hope, till I can go with him. I must soon get down-stairs again!’

‘Ah! you will find the draught trap mended,’ said Arthur. ‘Brown set to work on it, and the doors shut as tight as a new boot.’

‘I am often amused to see Brown scent out and pursue a draught,’ said John.

‘I have been avoiding Brown ever since Friday,’ said Arthur; ‘when he met me with a serious “Captain Martindale, sir,” and threatened me with your being laid up for the year if I kept you here. I told him it was his fault for letting you come home so early, and condoled with him on your insubordination.’

‘Ah! Violet does not know what order Sarah keeps you in?’ retorted John.

‘I am afraid you have both been very uncomfortable!’

‘No, not in the least, Sarah is a paragon, I assure you.’

‘She has been very kind to me, but so has every one. No one was ever so well nursed! You must know what a perfect nurse Arthur is!’

Arthur laughed. ‘John! Why he would as soon be nursed by a monkey as by me. There he lies on a perfect bank of pillows, coughs whenever you speak to him, and only wants to get rid of every one but Brown. Nothing but consideration for Brown induces him to allow my father or Percy Fotheringham now and then to sit up.’

‘A comfortable misanthropical picture,’ said John, ‘but rather too true. You see, Violet, what talents you have brought out.’

Violet was stroking her husband’s hand, and looking very proud and happy. ‘Only I was so selfish! Does not he look very pale still?’

‘That is not your fault so much as that of some one else,’ said John. ‘Some one who declares smoking cigars in his den down-stairs refreshes him more than a sensible walk.’

‘Of course,’ said Arthur, ‘it is only ladies, and men who have nursed themselves as long as you have, who ever go out for a constitutional.’

‘He will be on duty to-morrow,’ said Violet, ‘and so he will be obliged to go out.’

‘And you will write to me, Violet,’ said John, ‘when you are ready? I wish I could expect to hear how you get on, but it is vain to hope for letters from Arthur.’

‘I know,’ said Violet; ‘but only think how good he has been to write to mamma for me. I was so proud when he brought me the letter to sign.’

‘Have you any message for me to take?’ said John, rising.

‘No, thank you—only to thank Lord and Lady Martindale for their kind messages. And oh’—but checking herself—‘No, you won’t see them.’