Heartsease | Page 5

her walking down the avenue with a light-footed but decided
and characteristic tread, expressing in every step, 'Where I am going,
there I will go, and nothing shall stop me.'
'Nonsense!' she said to herself; 'Arthur cannot be so lost to the sense of
everything becoming. Such pain cannot be in store for me! Anything
else I could bear; but this must not, cannot, shall not be. Arthur is all I
have; I cannot spare him; and to see him shipwrecked on a low- bred
designing creature would be too much misery. Impossible--so
clear-headed as he is, so fastidious about women! And yet this letter
spoke decidedly. People talk of love! and Arthur is so easy, he would
let himself be drawn on rather than make a disturbance. He might be
ensnared with his eyes open, because he disliked the trouble of
breaking loose, and so would not think of the consequence. Nothing
could save him so well as some one going to him. He can read a letter
or not as he chooses. Oh, if papa were at home--oh, if Mr. Wingfield
were but Percy Fotheringham--he who fears no man, and can manage
any one! Oh! if I could go myself; he heeds me when he heeds no one
else. Shall I go? Why not? It would save him; it would be the only
effectual way. Let me see. I would take Simmonds and Pauline. But
then I must explain to my aunt. Stuff! there are real interests at stake!

Suppose this is exaggeration--why, then, I should be ridiculous, and
Arthur would never forget it. Besides, I believe I cannot get there in
one day--certainly not return the same. I must give way to
conventionalities, and be a helpless young lady.'
She reached the house, and quickly dashed off her letter:--
'My Dear Arthur,--I hope and trust this letter may be quite uncalled for,
though I feel it my duty to write it. I used to have some influence with
you, and I should think that anything that reminded you of home would
make you pause.
'Report has of course outrun the truth. It is impossible you should be on
the brink of marriage without letting us know--as much so, I should
trust, as your seriously contemplating an engagement with one beneath
your notice. I dare say you find it very pleasant to amuse yourself; but
consider, before you allow yourself to form an attachment--I will not
say before becoming a victim to sordid speculation. You know what
poor John has gone through, though there was no inferiority there.
Think what you would have to bear for the sake, perhaps, of a pretty
face, but of a person incapable of being a companion or comfort, and
whom you would be ashamed to see beside your own family. Or,
supposing your own affections untouched, what right have you to trifle
with the feelings of a poor girl, and raise expectations you cannot and
ought not to fulfil? You are too kind, when once you reflect, to inflict
such pain, you, who cannot help being loved. Come away while it is
time; come home, and have the merit of self-sacrifice. If your fancy is
smitten, it will recover in its proper sphere. If it costs you pain, you
know to whom you have always hitherto turned in your vexations. Dear
Arthur, do not ruin yourself; only come back to me. Write at once; I
cannot bear the suspense.
'Your most affectionate sister,
'THEODORA A. MARTINDALE.'
She made two copies of this letter; one she directed to 'The Hon. Arthur
Martindale, Grenadier Guards, Winchester;' the other, 'Post- Office,

Wrangerton.' In rather more than a week she was answered:--
'My Dear Theodora,--You judged rightly that I am no man to trifle, or
to raise expectations which I did not mean to fulfil. My wife and I are
at Matlock for a few days before joining at Winchester.
'Your affectionate brother,
'ARTHUR N. MARTINDALE,'
CHAPTER 2

She's less of a bride than a bairn, She's ta'en like a colt from the heather,
With sense and discretion to learn.
A chiel maun be patient and steady That yokes with a mate in her teens.
Woo'd and Married and A'
JOANNA BAILLIE
A gentleman stood waiting at the door of a house not far from the
Winchester barracks.
'Is my brother at home, James?' as the servant gave a start of surprise
and recognition.
'No, sir; he is not in the house, but Mrs.--; will you walk in? I hope I
see you better, sir.'
'Much better, thank you. Did you say Mrs. Martindale was at home?'
'Yes, sir; Mr. Arthur will soon be here. Won't you walk in?'
'Is she in the drawing-room?'
'No, I do not think so, sir. She went up-stairs when she came