 section 38 of Violet Osborne. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Violet Osborne by Lady Emily Ponsonby. Volume 3 chapter 10. She said brokenly that she knew it. She had failed in sweet humility, had failed in all, the Princess. It was not long before Violet was convinced that in forwarding a removal from Holy Well she would not be opposing her father's private wishes. Mr. Osborne was not old, but he was beginning to lose his activity, and some touches of rheumatism made the state of the weather a matter of importance to him. Under these circumstances his mind reverted to old friends, and he was far from reluctant to think of a return to that life of London in which he had passed the chief part of his days, and for which, from custom and habit as well as natural taste, he felt himself to be most fit. With Mrs. Osborne it was otherwise, but Violet knew her mother well enough to be aware that to her the yielding of her wishes was a greater happiness than their gratification would be. And this not as a form of speech, but in very truth. Before, however, she had allowed herself to dwell on the thought of a change, a circumstance occurred that again altered her decision. One morning, ongoing to the school to assist Amy White in hearing her classes, she found the school dismissed and Amy alone. Am I late? She said, looking at her watch. Or is it a holiday? Amy blushed when she replied that it was not by rights a holiday. But she was busy, and she had sent the children home. You are not ill, are you, Amy? No, Mrs. Osborne, but I have something to tell you. I was going to you to tell you this morning. Do you know that I am going to give up the school? Oh, Amy, I am so glad, Violet said, heartily, I hope you have got something that suits you better. When was this settled? Only yesterday. I was going this very moment to tell you no one knows it as yet. And where are you going? Amy blushed again at present only to be naming the little town. I am going there this afternoon to look for lodgings. So soon. Oh, Amy, Violet added smilingly. I think I see how it is. I think I guess what has caused the change. You are going to be married. Amy blushed more violently, but made a sort of acquiescence. I am so glad Violet continued in a hearty ear way, fearing less Amy, remembering an old conversation, dreaded a new interference. And I wish you so much happiness. May I ask who the person is? But Amy looked down and was silent. Dear Amy, you cannot think how often I have been afraid that I once made you unhappy by my advice. Do not fear me now. I am sure you are a better judge about will make you happy than I can be. Oh, no, Miss Osborn, I am so thankful to you for your advice for that advice, especially do not repent of it. I don't unless you do. Well, will you not tell me? No answer. I won't ask you anymore. Violet said feeling a little hurt, but conquering the feeling you will tell me I am sure when it is all settled. Meanwhile, I'm very glad, dear Amy, that happier prospects are opening for you. May I go in and see your mother? Oh, yes, Miss Osborn, and pray do not think me ungrateful. And tears came into Amy's eyes. Violet was surprised at her manner. But after some more kind speeches went into the neat little kitchen, where Mrs. White was as usual seated by the fire with her custom kindness, she begged her not to get up and sit down beside her. This is great news that Amy has been telling me, Mrs. White, what has Amy told you? Mrs. White asked, and a shade of pink tinged her faded cheeks. She has not told me much, but quite enough for me to call it great news that you are going to leave this place and that there is she does not deny it a marriage in prospect. I wish you joy of both things, Mrs. White, for I know you will not much regret the parting from Holy Well. I have no quarrel with Holy Well, Miss Osborn, Mrs. White said peevishly, few people who had been used to better things would have thought it a boon to live in a kitchen. Perhaps not. I hope you will never have to do it again. I think not. And she smiled grimly. Amy is very close. She will not tell me anything about these prospects or this intended husband. Why is it to be a secret from me? Perhaps she thinks she will be jealous, violet colored at the insulin freedom, and with difficulty restrained a sharp answer. But she had long resolved that Mrs. White should not provoke her. And she only carelessly replied, that is not likely. Well, I will not detain you if you are busy. But you must remember, she added, with all her usual sweetness of manner, that I am an old friend. And if there is anything I can do to help you in your removing, I shall be only happy to do it. Thank you, Miss Osborn. I believe you have tried to do what you could for us. But it has been a weary time. And I am in hopes we have found more able friends at last. Violet's heart swelled at the thanklessness of one for whom she had indeed tried to do all she could. But she said no more and left the room. Amy was standing outside and tears were still in her eyes. You must not mind my mother. She said earnestly, she has been awake all night with rheumatism in her bones. And it makes her speak what she does not mean. Thank you, Amy, Violet said, smiling and holding out her hand. Whoever has done it, I am sure I am thankful to him for taking you and your mother out of a situation for which you are not fit. I hope all bad days are past. And all good ones are to come. As she crossed the garden on her departure, Sir William Hamilton approached from the road, and they both reached the gate together. He had been walking in his stiff way, with his eyes seeing only the ground, but he then looked up and looked even more shy than usual. There is no school, Violet said. Miss White has dismissed the children. Oh, indeed. He replied with embarrassment. Is Ida coming? Is she in the village? No, Ida is at home today. I am. I am on business here. Then I won't detain you. Goodbye. And Violet hurried on. For a few steps, she hurried and then walked slowly and began to think of the disappointments of her life. Amy, Lionel, Ida, she thought of all the bright visions of a few years back of the happiness it seemed to be her work to bring on all around. And she sighed as she walked. Holy Well had certainly lost and was losing its charms. There was little to be done, but the old routine, which Ida was as well able to attend to as she was, and with the restlessness common to disappointed yet not hopeless affections, she pictured another sphere and new scenes where a field of labor might open sufficient to give ease to her uneasy heart, more languidly than usual, and wrapped in a brown study. She walked till she heard her name called from behind her and saw Mr. Pope. She had not walked fast, but he was partly and in his efforts to overtake her was breathless. She waited till he reached her and then said, What a fine day, Mr. Pope, a greeting that was always music to his ears for the fine days of Holy Well were his own creation in imagination at least. Glorious harvest weather, he said, stroking his chest. We have much in this locality to be thankful for. Well, Miss Osborne, we come from our duties. You from your instructions, and I from my study. My duty has been small today. Miss White had dismissed the children. I was aware of the fact. I saw the children from my study window and questioned them as to what they did at that unseasonable hour. Nothing, you perceive, escapes my eyes. In fact, Miss Osborne, it was of this, of some singular suspicions that have crossed my mind that I came to speak to you. I speak in confidence. He looked around and about, and then drawing nearer and lowering his voice asked, Has it ever struck you that Sir William Hamilton is? I scarcely know how to word the question. Suppose we say more attentive than is becoming to Miss White. While it started, no, she said, I never observed anything. You are aware that he is at this moment at the school? Yes, he said he was on business. Ahem, ahem. It is hardly befitting my position, Miss Osborne, to dwell upon suspicious appearances to a young lady of your age. But Miss White is more or less under your protection, and I confess that, feeling perplexed how to act, I was anxious to know what steps you would think it right for me to take. Do you know that Miss White is going to leave the school? Violet asked. To leave the school? Astonishing. She told me the fact this morning. I should not repeat it, but that it may help you in coming to a decision. Perhaps it will be better to wait for a day or two and see how things turn out. She will be sure to go to you this evening, if her plans are sufficiently formed. To leave the school? Astonishing. I feel myself utterly perplexed. Pray, Miss Osborne, how do you account for this singular and sudden resolution? I fancy she is going to be married, but as she did not, in plain words, tell me so. I would rather not have my guests mentioned. Married. It is impossible. Yet it is certainly singular. I trust, Miss Osborne, we shall have no scandals in this locality. I am sure I trust not. If you do not hear from Miss White today, do you like me to speak to her tomorrow? I am not afraid of her doing anything wrong. But I do not think she is very wise, and if there is anything in her ways that you disapprove, I think it would be kind to point it out. It might be less painful for me than for you. It may perhaps be well to tell you the truth, Miss Osborne, though my eyes are wide open and few things escape them. Yet this did escape me. Suspicions regarding any of my flock, who are, thank God, superior in contact to the generality of men, is not a feature of my mind. But yesterday a person in whom I have some confidence breathed a word in my ear, which made me at once awake and alive, and the events of this morning. The dismissal of the children in the visit of Sir William were, as you may believe, confirmation strong as proofs of holy writ. Still, appearances are deceitful things. Sir William has shown, as I know from Miss Hamilton, much interest in Miss White's circumstances. Perhaps he is only helping her to some better situation. Will it not be better to wait for a day or two before you do anything? Mr. Pope consented to a delay, and Violet returned home. But though to him she had suggested other possibilities, in her own mind the case was clear. Sir William intended to marry Amy White. Amy White was to be Ida's stepmother. When she recalled Amy's intense blushes and Miss White's words, she felt there was no room for doubt. And is this to my fault, Memma? She said, as she poured out of a full heart all her fears and suspicions. If this should prove to be the case, will it be laid at my door? Is it because I have foolishly petted her and advised her wrongly? No, dearest, you have nothing to do with it. How could you have? You must not be morbid, darling, in your self condemnation. Certainly we do not always know what will be the end of the words we speak or the advice we give. But God is too merciful to lay such results to our charge. Why, dear, a man would never dare to speak at all if he had to consider in such a degree the consequences of his words. Let us try to speak good words, the very best we can, and then leave results to God. Mrs. Osborn's advice to Violet was needful. For she, who once in her cheerful confidence had almost felt she could do no wrong, now saddened and depressed, was haunted with the nightmare of her past errors, negligences, ignorances, short-sightedness, and human infirmities of all kinds, it was probably unneedful, but it was a severe discipline. When once a suspicion has been breathed, even when there are no evil tongues to set it afloat, and of course there could be no evil tongues in a paradise like Holy Well, it somehow is shortly set afloat before another day had passed the attentions more than befitting of Sir William Hamilton to Miss White were openly talked of, and Mr. Pope thought there was no time to be lost if he was to prevent the occurrence of scandals in his parish. He decided on going straight to Sir William, a decision remarkably unpleasant and unquestionably an offering on the altar of his duty. Sir William looked extremely put out. After a short consideration, however, he replied, It was my wish to have postponed a declaration of my intentions until I had removed Miss White from her present position, but since my neighbors insist on receiving immediate information regarding my private affairs, I confess it certainly is my intention to make her my wife. And what, Mr. Pope, he asked more boldly than usual, Have you got to say against it? Only this, Sir William, replied Mr. Pope, is boldly that I think such marriages unwise. Miss White is undoubtedly a lady by birth, and possibly her education may have been sufficiently cultivated to make her a fit associate for your daughter, but I think her position here ought to have secured her against such notice and such attentions on your part. Excuse me for speaking my mind. Sir William colored and looked distressed for a moment, but resuming his stiffness, replied, I have said it was my wish to alter her position before I made my intention known. Since, however, my intentions have been thwarted, I empower you to announce the marriage tomorrow morning. You must give me a few hours to break the news to my daughter. Having so said, he bowed and withdrew, wrote a few lines to Ida, ordered a trunk to be packed, and a servant to be in readiness, and took his departure from Boscombe before Ida's return from her drive. A day afterwards, Mrs. White and Amy removed to Be, and thence to Lytton, where it was heard that Sir William followed them to prosecute his courtship, to prosecute his courtship at Leisure. On the evening of that day, Violet received a note from Ida. My dearest Violet, do you know this wonderful news? Papa has gone, but he has left me a note, a very kind note, to tell me of it. Is it for his happiness? If it is, I will try and be glad. Will you come and see me tomorrow? I long for you to tell me what you think, ever yours affectionately. Ida Hamilton, we must not leave holy well, Papa, Violet said, as she put the note into his hands. Poor Ida, she will want help and comfort. You are right, darling, for this year at least we must make up our minds to be still and stationary. There was a momentary choking sensation in Violet's throat. The vague hope of change had for these past weeks grappled with the depression of disappointment, but she was a true friend, and had the hope that lured her thoughts away been a definite. Instead of an elusive one, she would still have put it aside for Ida's sake. Volume 3 Chapter 11 Oh, her blind race of miserable men, how many among us at this very hour do forge a lifelong trouble for ourselves. Tennyson, Idols Sir William Hamilton's conduct was very easy of explanation. His love for Violet had turned his thoughts towards marriage. His ill success had not, as is sometimes the case, robbed the prospect of its charms. But he was too shy to submit again to a repulse, and lived too secluded a life to have much freedom of choice. Almost as soon, therefore, as his attention was caught by Amy's looks, he settled his plans and prosecuted them accordingly. The consequences of this engagement were also such as might have been expected. He became so desperately in love with his pretty and submissive young betrothed that her will was his will, and as hers was her mother's will. Mrs. White reigned in all her glory. She gave herself the heirs of a princess, and, far from seeming elated at her daughter's marriage, appeared to consider the alliance as a matter of course. It was the very way to deal with Sir William. He wished it to be considered a matter of course. And he treated Mrs. White with all the deference she exacted. In one respect, she used her influence wrongly. The fortune of Ida's mother had been left in Sir William's power, with the exception of that now-canceled document, which, in the event of Ida's marriage to Lionel, settled all on them. Mrs. White insisted that half of it, since Amy had no fortune, should be settled on the younger children of the new family. Mr. Pope, who heard everything, heard of this fact, and mentioned it to Mr. Osborne, since Ida's portion would still be large for a young lady, the fact was more important, as showing whose influence would be paramount than in any other light. It was so, at least regarded by Violet. Shortly afterwards, there was an announcement that Mrs. White was to take up her abode at Boscombe. And at this discovery, Violet, who had hitherto made the best of the matter to Ida dwelling on Amy's gentleness and beauty, and other merits, found herself silenced. She had no consolation to offer. She offered therefore what she felt, sympathy and commiseration, of the most intense kind. She felt that to her Mrs. White's presence would poison every source of happiness in life. I don't think it will be to me what it would be to you, Violet. Ida said in reply, I don't think I mind things as you do. For one thing, I don't expect to be very happy. I have made up my mind to it. And when one does not expect a little more or less to bear is no great matter, Ida spoke quite cheerfully, more as if stating a fact than as if expressing an opinion. But Violet was shocked. Oh, Ida, how can you speak as you do, and I, who am older, and ought to expect less, feel that happiness is so much that thing for which I was born, that, though I may submit, I never can be content to be without it. I don't mean that I am unhappy, Ida said apologetically. I only mean that I don't know, and never did know what great happiness is. And I don't expect to know it, even when I seemed the happiest. I was always afraid that in some way or other, and I never could tell how, I did not please Lionel, so that I am almost more contented now than I have ever been. Violet looked grave. Ida seldom mentioned Lionel. When she did, the name was always a stab to her heart, but before she spoke, Ida went on. And I think Violet, it is much better as it is. I think if I was very happy I should forget things I ought to remember. And now it pleases me better to think of those things than it does to dream about this world. So don't trouble about Mrs. White and me. I don't think I can ever like her, but I don't think I much care whether she comes or not. It was seldom that Ida spoke of herself at all, and very seldom, so unreservedly, the insight she gave to Violet, offering in these few words a glimpse into a young heart, which, in the midst of what is called prosperity, owned to having never been happy, shocked and saddened her. She could only hope that the same gentle and submissive spirit which bore her through definite trials would also bear her through the undefined vexations which must assail her future lot, vexations which Violet's own quicker and more sensitive temper pronounced unbearable. Before the wonder excited by Sir William Hamilton's marriage had wholly died away, a new event startled the inhabitants of Holywell, and Mr. Pope, more than any, what with the cold winter in the distress, and the marriage of Sir William, and this new event, he began to think he was rector of a parish that was but human after all. I think the world is really going mad, exclaimed Mr. Osborne, entering the cottage drawing room in the dusk of an October evening. What do you think I have just heard from Pope? Now, only guess, but Violet refused to guess and insisted on hearing the news at once. It was this, that Lord Ashford was going to be married to a farmer's daughter. True. Oh, yes. When Violet said it could not be true, Pope saw Lord Ashford himself this morning, and he told him of it, and told him to announce it right and left, if he pleased. Which, by the way, he does seem pleased to do. He said he was not the least ashamed of what he was doing, that he had, as good a right, to select whom he chose as Sir William, and when Pope said something with regard to his son, he observed that his son might be hanged. The maid brought in the lamp at this moment, and Mr. Osborne, who was when he came in as excited as Mr. Pope had been with his news, sat down more composedly, and waited till the room was empty before he went on. It appears that she is a respectable, well-conducted girl, handsome, but of little education. She has had charge of a young center belonging to Lord Ashford of a peculiar breed, and in this way he has become acquainted with her. It is a bad business worse than Sir William's, for he never can make a lady of her eye fear. Does Mr. Pope know her? Violet inquired. Yes, her father is a well-to-do farmer, but rough and ignorant. During an illness he had two years ago, Pope visited him and saw her. He says there is no harm in her, but that she is coarse. She waited on her father with kindness, but did not seem to know how to behave, talked loud, and laughed loud, and burst in with questions about farm business in the midst of his reading. In short, that she did not seem to be a person with whom Lionel Vane, or Miss Hamilton, would easily associate. He pointed this out to Lord Ashford, but he said that it was Lionel's own business. He was growing old and wanted company, and if his son did not choose to give it him, he must provide it for himself. Violet made no observations. Mr. Osborn was excited with the news, but she could not be excited. It seemed as if there was to be no end to the consequences of Lionel's fancy for her. Mrs. Osborn asked a few questions. To one of them Mr. Osborn replied, Pope thinks it is rather serious as regards the property. It is heavily mortgaged already, and if fortunes are to be made for a new family, Lionel Vane will not come in for much when he succeeds. But I cannot have much pity for Lionel Vane. I am more sorry for Pope, who seems to have taken it quite to heart. Now, darling, what have I said to distress you? He asked, suddenly observing Violet's depressed countenance, nothing that you have said, Papa, but only I am sorry for Mr. Vane. I think he meant to do so much that was right, and he does only do mischief and cause sorrow. Like me, she added, and a tear flashed in her eye. No, no, Mr. Osborn said gravely, for both he and his wife were annoyed at Violet's self-tormenting spirit. There is no likeness. All people in this world make mistakes, and surely that can cause us no surprise when we consider what human nature is. But Lionel Vane's mistakes are of another kind, allowing whatever you pleased for his feelings for his mother, yet certainly, even for her sake. The well-being of his father ought to have been an object to him. He must have seen enough during his last visit here to discover that Lord Ashford required care and society. I mean that it was necessary for his welfare. But no. Lionel Vane goes on his own willful way and takes no heed of the mischief he does or the misery he makes. Now, darling, I won't have you taking this to heart, as Pope does. After all, we are all blind mortals, and perhaps in a year we shall say it is the best thing that could have happened for Lord Ashford. The girl may be a strong-minded, useful girl, and as she will sympathize on all his out-of-door amusements, she may make a good wife after all. Violet's feelings of dismay were shared by Ida. She had taken her father's marriage and all its accompaniments very calmly. But she was excited at Lord Ashford's, in a degree that surprised and distressed Violet. Distressed her because it revealed how very dear Lionel had been, how dear he still was, and how entirely his affairs absorbed her mind. To the exclusion of her own, she went almost immediately to see Lord Ashford not in any hope of altering his intention, but to make one more effort to soothe his mind towards Lionel. She, like Mr. Pope, was seized with terror that the new family would cut him out, and that poor Lionel, who would do so much good with his money, would have no money to do good with, ever since the breaking off of the engagement. Lord Ashford had received her visits coldly. He felt himself injured and would not forgive, not even her, though like him was a sufferer, because she defended the culprit. But on this occasion he was in high good humor, pinched her cheek, and called her my precious, and she, emboldened by his kindness, made her request that he would write to Lionel himself and tell him all about it, and that he would remember and never forget that Lionel was his own son and must not be forgotten. Lord Ashford was touched with the earnest manner of her petition and promised to do what she wished, but, depend upon it, Ida, he added, whatever I do, Mr. Lionel will make my conduct the ground of his absenting himself from us for years to come, but I don't care. He did not choose to think of my pleasure, and now he may please himself, and I will not say a word against it. Lord Ashford was right. Lionel returned a cold answer and remained abroad, but his cold answer did him injustice. While he wrote it, his heart was throbbing with torture at the insult, for thus he considered the marriage to his mother's memory. Perhaps Violet only was really just in her estimate of Lionel's character, for she only fully knew how the exclusive love for one parent and a morbid dwelling on her wrongs had almost worked his sense of right and wrong in other respects. Be ye angry and sin not. Lionel had obeyed the first part of the precept and been angry and justly so at his mother's sorrow, but he forgot the second and made his anger a sin, and now his sin of anger had found him out. He had neglected his father's happiness and his father's good, and in return his father neglected him. Sir William was to be married in London at the beginning of November. Amid the vexation which this marriage caused to Violet, there shot from it a spark of light which brightened her heart. Amy White asked Lester to be her trustee, and he, knowing few particulars of the case, wrote to Violet to ask her wishes and her opinion on the subject. The letter was concisely expressed, and was confined to its one purpose, but it and its answer caused in Violet's mind and emotion an excitement, which once again touched with light the cloud that had fallen on her days. Her reply was also concise. She took good care that no feeling should be apparent. She said she was glad to hear of Amy's application, and begged him to have no hesitation in exceeding to it, that, though she regretted the marriage, Amy had done nothing deserving of blame, and she had great hopes it might turn out well. Little as there wasn't such a formal application for her opinion to excite hope in her mind, regarding feelings of another nature, yet such was its effect. During two dreary winter months, it cheered her walks and animated her charity. It gave her spirits to endure, and to smile at the condescension with which Mrs. White received her call in the drawing room at Bascom, and power to smother a part of her indignation at the sight of Ida reduced to the simple physician of a common daughter of the house. This was the work, not of Amy, but of her mother. Amy behaved herself very properly, and, though her mind was shallow, and her society could give little pleasure to her stepdaughter, yet she and Ida got on without difficulty, and even with friendship. But Mrs. White was the Dowager Lady Hamilton exercising all the rights, and much more than the rights which that imaginary personage would have had, and the more Sir William submitted to her will and whims, the more she exercised him in submission. If Ida's principles had not been stayed on a rock too high and firm for Mrs. White to move, there would have been little peace in the house. Sir William loved his daughter, and had he known the trifling insolences to which she was subject, he might have resented them, and in resenting them have caused strife in his wife's heart between her duty to her mother and to him. But Ida took at once, and of herself, the position that she thought befitting, and, armed with the invincible armor of Christian love and dutiful submission, the shafts of petty tyranny were too slight to wound her. Violet watched her with admiration, and sighed to think how far beyond her powers such endurance would have been. End of section 39. Section 40 of Violet Osborne. This is a LibriBox recording. All LibriBox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriBox.org. Violet Osborne by Lady Emily Ponsonby. Volume 3, Chapter 12. The new day comes, the light dearer for night, as dearer thou for faults lived over the Princess. The simple reception of Lester's letter had brought hope and animation to Violet. She was destined to receive encouragement to her hopes at a time, and from a source that was little expected. In the month of January there was a good deal of illness in the neighborhood of Holywell. The winter was mild, but influenza and rheumatism were very prevalent, and Violet had constant occupation in paying consolatory visits to the various sick persons whom she took under her charge. Among those attacked by the latter, complained, was the landlady of the little country inn. Rheumatism settled in her knees, and for several weeks she was disabled from her usual act of life and confined to her little parlor. After a time Violet heard of her illness and, always kind, paid her a friendly visit, she found her low and dull, and returned again and again, supplying her with books both profitable and amusing, and, with what she prized far more, a ready listener and sympathizing companion. They had been simple acquaintances before, they now became friends, and Violet herself received entertainment from the shrewd remarks and quaint conversation of the old dame. She found her one day extremely low on inquiring into the cause. She was informed that a very nice young gentleman had arrived. Such a one as I like, Miss Osborne, and I can't see to him the least bit, and though Sally's a good girl, and does her duty well enough, she does not see into the gentleman's minds as I do, and many a comfort I should be glad to give, and never mind the cost he won't have, because it has pleased God to send me this rheumatism, but I think, Violet said consolingly, young gentlemen are in the habit of thinking of their own comforts. Don't you think he will tell Sally what he wants? Some will, Miss Osborne, and I don't care a button for them. Sally may wait on them forever and ever, and I won't grumble, but some gentlemen are modest, and when they come to a decent house such as this, they take what they find and make no noise, and them I like to treat to a few comforts out of the way and never care for the cost. You must see a great many and very different sorts of people, Mrs. Wilkinson. Always, I suppose, somebody coming and going, thus Violet led her on to talk of her life's experiences, a favorite topic. Always, Miss Osborne, and has been this twenty-five years, I have seen a good deal in my day, and seeing gives practice, you know. And now I do but need to look at a gentleman as he walks in, or even to hear him call landlady, and I know in a second what he's made of. And have you made many friends among your many acquaintances? Well, Miss Osborne, I'm not one of those who run up a friendship out of nothing. I must have grounds to like before I take to liking. Some smooth people are caught by a pink face or a palavering tongue, but I am not. I like the pink face well enough, but I like a good heart better. Some young gentlemen come here, and I never ask them to come again. I would as, Leith, they stayed away, and some I like as the world goes. We are friends, and we are not friends. They may come or go as they please, but some few I lodge in my heart, and it aches at times to think I never shall see them again. Amused and interested at her classification of her guests, Violet inquired a little further, asking particulars regarding the qualities that pleased her best. It's hard to say, Miss Osborne, I can no more tell you why sometimes. When a gentleman steps in, my heart flies to him. Then I can tell you how this rheumatism gets into my bones, but this I know. It never flies to him without good reason. If you, even you, Miss Osborne, was to tell me that you had seen him misconduct himself with your own eyes, I should give you the lie. For I should know it couldn't be. And she slapped her hand on the table. That is being very confident, Violet said, and she sighed. For she felt she had not a like confidence in most of her fellow creatures, not a bit too much, because I see and I know. Now, there was a gentle man down here last year, not so very young, nor old, neither, and I did but see him for an hour or so, for he did not sleep in the house, but I never can forget him. I know he couldn't do a bad thing, couldn't do it, if he tried, and though I saw him but the once, my heart aches when I think of him, and I believe I would walk 20 miles with the rheumatism and all if I could have but the luck to see his face again. And who was he? Violet said with some curiosity. I don't know who he was. He came here for an hour or so, and we had a good bit of talk. We talked about you, Miss Osborne, and Miss Hamilton, and Mr. Vane, and all the world about here. That is, he listened kindly, for he was not much of a talker himself. A sweet, modest, gentle man who had a bit of color coming and going in his face, and as I told him, I did not believe he would dare to call boots. He seemed so modest and shy. Violet's heart fluttered. She scarcely knew why. She knew it was impossible, but Lester came into her mind. And that is the sort of person you like, she asked lightly, though there was a bit of color coming and going on her cheek also. Why, Miss Osborne, as to him, a queen might have liked him, for he had a fine presence, not so very young, and a bit of gray here and there in his black hair, but a fine noble countenance, and something in his eyes so sad and so sweet. I find him lodging in my heart when I'm least thinking about him. It must have been him, Violet thought, and she scarcely dared to ask another question. And are you sure you will never see him again? At last she said. He said he was a Londoner. But I told him I should be happy to see him, and he said he would not forget. He was down here. Let me see. The day of the Great Feast, Mr. Vane's Feast. Anyone out to see it? For he said he was a Londoner and did not often see such sights. But he only stayed a half hour or so, and then came home again, and set off, looking weary enough. But, however, he saw the country. And he thought it a beautiful country. Violet's face was in a crimson glow, as she thought of that day. Remembering all its events, she became certain Lester had been at Holy Well after a moment's consideration, determined to be more sure if she could. She said, I can't help thinking that I know this person. Are you sure you do not remember his name? I was fancying you knew him. Said her keen-eyed companion, and I should be glad to remember if I could. But I don't so much as think I overheard the name. On a bit of a book he was reading, there was a name of one of them Northern towns. But I don't call to mind what it was. I only remember thinking, how did it come from the North if he was a Londoner? But it may have belonged to some friend. Lester, Violet said quietly, I believe it was, Ms. Osborne. But a name is but a name. And I don't trouble myself to remember them all. Bless you. It would need the memory of a King Solomon to remember all the names that are belled about in my ears. I think of the man, and that's enough for me. Mama, Violet said, seating herself by her mother, when shortly afterwards she re-entered the cottage, did you ever hear of Mr. Lester's being in this neighborhood? There was something almost stern in her countenance as she anxiously fixed it on Mrs. Osborne's face. I, dearest, Mrs. Osborne asked in astonishment, No, never. I am glad you did not. Violet replied with a look and sigh of relief. All the way homewards she had been picturing as she walked that questions had been asked about her in private that others had undertaken to answer for her state of mind. And the idea had worked like madness in her brain. I could not have borne to think you had, but he was here, Mama, last summer. Old Mrs. Wilkinson just told me so. Why did he come, and why did he go? I cannot tell. Mrs. Osborne looked extremely perplexed. After a little consideration, she said, Do you like me to find out from Albert, dear? Oh, no, Mama, not for the whole world. She rose from her seat, and as she kissed her mother's forehead, added, All mysteries count to light at some time or other, and left the room, and asked no more. She could have patience now. Mysteries there might be, a mistake there might have been, but Lester had not forgotten her, and that knowledge was enough. The months flowed on. It had been settled by Mr. Osborne and Violet that the projected removal should not take place till the close of the following autumn. By that time, Ida's new life would be a settled thing, and probably the wish of his young wife to see more of the world would in some degree enlarge the sphere of Sir William's acquaintance and allow his daughter other society than that of her step mother and Mrs. White. Should a son be born to Sir William, possibly great changes might take place, but be it as it might. Violet had been satisfied after this year to leave things at Ascom to take their own course and to allow her father and herself to follow where their wishes led them. This arrangement had been made before the discovery of Lester's visit. The discovery did not make her impatient. There was a day on which her mind was fixed, as that on which all should be made clear. Either she would know she was given up, or she would know that she was loved. In the course of the summer a young Alice was expected to make its appearance, and there could be no doubt that some among them would be invited to undertake the responsible office of sponsor. She had looked to this, to this she still looked, and now relieved in mind and heart, hopeful and cheerful, could wait and be patient. The months flowed on. If Violet had been one whose mind was pleased with the follies of human kind, these months might have given considerable entertainment in the struggles for supremacy which arose between Ashford Park and Bascombe. The new Lady Ashford, a well-conducted but vulgar-minded girl, elated with her good fortune, was desirous of securing all the attention that was her due, the Dowager Lady Hamilton, for Amy. In this, as in all other respects, behaved with perfect propriety and to the utmost of her power withdrew from the contest, ambitious for her daughter, endeavored to surpass Lady Ashford, and since she could not do so in rank, made a show of superior riches and grandeur, if Lady Ashford gave in charity, Lady Hamilton gave doubly and trebly to the same. When it was known that Lady Ashford had insisted having on a new paper for her sitting room, and, indeed, it was much required, Lady Hamilton was forced by her mother to make a request for the same, although hers did not require it. Lady Ashford's paper was cheap, though Goddy Amy's was, therefore, studded with gold. When Lady Ashford persuaded by Mr. Pope to go to church regularly, arrived in a barouche, Mrs. White refused to be conveyed tither in any less blended manner. In all things great, in all things small, the same rivalry was carried on, and if the time should ever come when the two houses opened their doors for the admission of general society, it was probable that the noise of the strife would be heard far and near. But Violet, though she sometimes smiled, was far more inclined to sigh at the pitiable sight, and her compassion for Ida increased as she watched the despicable turmoil that such a rivalry excited in her home. Oh, Ida, she said one day, I wish you would give me your receipt for bearing with the follies of the world. I do not find that Christian charity is enough. That makes me bear with all kinds of infirmities, and even with wickedness, but I do not find it enough for Mrs. White. Ida smiled a little at her vehemence, but said, I am so sorry for Papa and for Amy, too, that I would not for the world seem to see all I do see. I know they are often annoyed, and I do my best to pass things off quietly. My hope, too, is that Mrs. White will improve. She used to grumble, you know, now she boasts. But when she is used to being comfortable, that will go off. And if I have a great many brothers and sisters, as I hope I shall, she will have other things to care for, and I daresay may become a good grandmother. In short, Ida, yours is the Christian charity, which not only beareth, but hopeeth all things. Well, I will try and hope, too, but it vexes me. No one can tell how much to see what you have to bear. For the sting of Mrs. White's follies, which violates charity, was insufficient to pardon, lay in herself. If Ida had been married to Lionel, Mrs. White could not have vexed how great so ever her folly might have been. The months flowed on, till the day on which Violet's heart was set arrived. A Miss Ellis was born in June, and, as had been hoped and expected, at the end of July she was christened Violet. And Violet was her godmother. She went up with Mr. Osborne to the christening, and she and Lester stood together at the font. Lester met her as he had done the year before with kindness, with consideration, with everything but warmth. The same constraint set upon him and froze Violet. Beneath its influence, timidity again stole over her. That trust in his feeling for her witch, in the distance, had seemed so strong, died away, and those efforts she had intended to make to destroy the barrier between them became an impossibility At one time it seemed probable that this day would close as unsatisfactorily as the memorable day on the year before, but it was destined to be otherwise. On the return from church a luncheon was provided at Elbert's small house, and a few special friends were invited to partake of it. As they stood in the drawing room, Elbert said, I am going to have the child brought down for you to see Violet and you, Lester. Lester was at a little distance, but approached on hearing his name. I don't the least expect admiration for so small a thing, but it is proper that you should both make acquaintance with your charge. I know you are busy today, Lester, but wait, I beg you, and don't go till it comes. And he left the room, possibly not without some thought in his head of bringing Violet and Lester together. Busy today? The words rang like a knell in Violet's ears, and she could scarcely refrain from repeating them with her lips, the time to which she had so looked forward in a few moments. Then would be gone, Lester stood by her side, but she could think of no question with which to address him, except that one which was in her heart, which for months had been on her tongue, but which her tongue refused to utter. Why did you come to Holywell? Seeing her thus standing silent, the old gentle man, her great admirer, one of those old friends of the Lester family, who came to every ceremonial, approached her and claimed her for his own, he began, as he had done the year before, to discount on the beauties of Devonshire, making new and eager inquiries into what parts she had been, and the few remaining minutes of Lester's society were snatched from her grasp. Despair was in Violet's heart, but we are all blind mortals, and little know in things great and small what will be for our good. Despair was in Violet's heart, but after one instant the natural sweetness and kindness of her disposition prevailed over her despair, she would not disappoint his eager expectations, and remembering the argument of the year before, recurred to it. It had been regarding the relative beauties of the neighborhood of Holywell, with others in more famous parts of Devonshire. Time has not changed my opinion, she said playfully, I am still ready to fight a battle for Holywell. The old gentle man was delighted, flattered at her recollection of a former conversation, and delighted to renew the strife, he gested with her about her prejudices and endeavored to displace Holywell from the high station on which he had thrown it, with many words and merry ones, but in vain it comes to this. Then, he said suddenly, we must lay the case before a judge, and vow to stand by his decision. Will Lester do? Lester, slightly raising his voice, are you competent? Have you ever seen Holywell? Violet started this question, which her lips trembled to put, yet dared not frame, was asked in her hearing, surprised, startled, expectant. She turned her eyes upon him to hear the answer. He was standing in the shadow of the window curtain, while Violet stood in the full light of the window, but the flush that overspread his cheek was such as no shadow could conceal. That flush, however, was involuntary. His voice and words were composed and sedate. Yes, he said, I saw it once and own its beauty. Of the rest of Devonshire I have seen but little, but unless books and pictures are more false than they are even usually allowed to be, I am afraid I must give my verdict against Miss Osborne. The old gentle man, though he rated Lester severely for his want of gallantry, was enchanted and went off to Violet's relief, to relate to Mr. Osborne what had passed, to her relief, and yet to her dismay. He went and again there was silence, but the agony of the moment's suspense, the dread of losing that favorable chance, the conviction that that flush confessed some feeling concealed within. The intense desire to penetrate the mystery, these and other sensations spurred Violet on, stilled her, gave her courage, and almost before she knew her lips had formed the words, she had said quietly and even indifferently, when did you see Holy Well, Mr. Lester? But, though she spoke quietly, she did not dare to raise her eyes to watch the effect of the question. She pulled a flower from a nose gain she held, and then endeavored to force it into its place again. Lester cast his eyes upon her, and a swift sudden hope leapt into his heart. One day last year, he replied in a voice that tried to be natural, but was not. I feared so, Violet said. She paused a moment, while the happiness of life hung trembling in the balance, then gathering courage and speaking with calmness and quiet dignity continued. I say fear, because the truth is, we heard of your visit, and I must confess that I do not think it was the act of a friend to come so near, and yet to pass us by. You are right, he replied with emotion. It was not the act of a friend, but I cannot be a friend. I told you so once before. I repeat it now. It is beyond my power. They stood side by side, immovable and dumb. Violet dared not speak, dared not look up, and Lester with eager eyes examined her attitude, endeavoring thence to gather whether he was to speak, or forever hold his peace. A scream from Miss Alice gave notice of her approach. The imminent danger of losing such a moment gave to Lester's coward heart the spur it needed. He stooped his head and said, Lo, but firmly, it is because I would be more than a friend. If that is still to presumptuous a hope, give me a sign, and it shall be cast away for ever. And when the infant, robed in lace, was brought to claim the attention of its sponsors, the barrier built up seven years before was broken down, Albert glanced a look, saw how it was, and was satisfied. End of volume three, chapter twelve. Section 41 of Violet Osborne. This is a LibriWox recording, all LibriWox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriWox.org. Recording by Monica Rolly. Violet Osborne by Lady Emily Ponsonby. Volume three, chapter one. Rich in love and sweet humility, she was herself to the degree that she desired, beloved, the excursion. Two months afterwards, Mr. Pope joined the hands of Leicester and Violet. It was said wholly well that the marriage took place. It was there commented to Ida's special charge that Violet left her parents during her absence, and until she could receive them into her own house in Clarger Street. It was a great satisfaction to Mr. Pope to perform this ceremony. Two marriages had lately taken place in his parish, but not under his auspices, and though his disapproval of the unions had softened a blow, he still looked on himself as deprived of his rights and the married pair as deprived of his blessing. Privately he had some doubts whether under these circumstances the marriages held good, but he was discreet enough to keep this doubt to his own mind, when therefore he understood that Violet was to be indebted to him for the bestowal of the marriage blessing. His broad face shone with unmitigated satisfaction, and when the ceremony was performed it was performed in tones of sonorous and with movements of such pomp and dignity that every bystander, so he imagined at least, became aware of the loss those suffered who were deprived on such an occasion of his services. He looked on Violet as his own creation. In the course of the years of their acquaintance he had come to admire and respect her, to listen to her opinion, and to court her assistance, but still it was as his own creation, his own discovery, a reflection of himself. This made the value of her services. This caused the regret with which he saw her depart. When he shook hands with her for the last time he felt as if a limp was about to be severed from his body and lose that such a severance should be made, he repeated the shake again and again at each repetition with redoubled violence till his eyes and hers also overflowed with the exertions he made. It is not always that endeavours for the good of others are repaid either by appreciation or gratitude, and Violet had learned better things than to do her work for earthly reward. But such a reward must ever be sweet when it comes, and the burst of love and regret that followed the announcement of her marriage in the neighborhood took her by surprise and made her own heart swell with answering gratitude and love. She certainly deserved some reward for she had worked on injury days as in days of excitement and sunshine amid vacations within and without, as well as when all hung upon her words and encouragement, and if she sorely considered what she had done there was enough to satisfy even her exacting nature. She could not look back on hollywell as she had found it, and as she left it without thankfulness for all she had been able to do. From her an electric spark had fallen, the spark of love and true benevolence, and it had set on fire all who came within her sphere of influence. Plans for the welfare of the poor, for the comfort of their bodies, and the soothing and elevation of their minds, plans for the healthier teaching of the young endeavours to win the thought of all to a more enlightened service to God and to more reverent devotion in his worship. It mattered not on what good work she cast her eyes. She could not but see that of that work she had been the life and the soul, her mind quick to find the way or her hands willing to execute the ideas of others. She could look about and see the fruit of her labours and know that the impulse she had given would not die away. For above all there was Ida above all, because there is no work so great as that which touches on an individual man. There was Ida moulded and framed by the conscious and unconscious working of her mind. Ida left to carry on every good work and to take her place as the help, the friend, the consolar of the poor, all this while at saw, and loving the place on which she had poured out her loving heart, wept as she parted from it. But though Violet left Hollywell with regret, yet she was supremely happy. In the end of October she was established in Clarke Street and there received her father and mother until they could provide a house suited to their means. Clarke Street remained the abode of Leicester alone. He had hoped, he had implored that Rachel would remain and Violet added her in treaties, but she and Margaret had in the meanwhile decided otherwise. Perhaps some rankling remembrance of Violet's behaviour to their brother made them argue that it would be best to let her be alone. But this was in private. Ostensibly it was in the hope and intention of securing Leicester's happiness that the resolution was taken. Between them it had been resolved that Rachel should live with Margaret and Rachel had less reluctance in exceeding to the proposal as she felt that the income which Leicester had secured to her would shortly be a help to Albert in his minnage. It was not likely that his income would increase industrious though he was for several years and it was likely that his family might do so in undue proportion. She accepted therefore the offer that came from Albert himself and removed to their abode after having made all ready for Violet's reception. If any hard thoughts however, any recollections of her love of power did linger in their breasts, they were soon swept away and though the arrangement succeeded too well for any permanent alteration to be made Rachel was often Violet's guest and at each succeeding visit the warmth and cordiality of her sister-in-law met a dearer to her heart. End of volume three chapter one recording by Monica Rolly section 19 of Violet Osborne this is a LibriWox recording all LibriWox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriWox.org recording by Monica Rolly Violet Osborne by Lady Emily Ponsonby volume three chapter 19 Mr. Vane the door of Violet's drawing room in Clarger Street opened this name was pronounced and Lionel entered but Violet was not there a young lady set by the fire reading she raised her head and Ida and Lionel met once more it was nearly two years since Violet's marriage they had not met since that interview in the garden at Bossam both looked and felt awkward enough this might be expected either though perhaps feeling the most recovered herself first and when they had shaken hands she said I did not know you were an England Lionel no I dare say not I have been in England though for a week or two traveling about seeing things you did not expect to find me here Ida now said simply no I came to see Mrs he paused hitherto Ida had been in his thoughts but as he had to pronounce her name the remembrance of all connected with Violet came over him and he colored crimson as he forced out Mrs. Lester I am staying with Violet I have been here three weeks Ida spoke quickly to relieve him and she's not at home I am afraid not she walks by herself and I suppose the servant did not know she went out will you wait for her Ida added timidly or will you come again he made no audible answer to her propositions but seated himself in obedience to a movement on her part and she did the same a very awful silence followed he said twirling his hat in his hands and looking awkward and unhappy Ida longed to speak and relieve him but could think of no subject that was suitable to the occasion her father his father Violet his travels all seem topics rive in unpleasant recollections at last her heart beating and growing nervous she said abruptly I don't think Violet will be long let her be as long as she pleases he burst out oh Ida I am so weary of my life have you forgiven me she blushed deeply why go back forget all that Lionel have you forgiven me he repeated passionately there was nothing yes there was a little to forgive she corrected herself truthfully you ought to have let me know before but whatever it was it is long long forgiven and do you think you could ever like me again and he lent forward his hands on his knees gazing into her face if i try hard to please you do you think you ever could my dear Lionel Ida said and tears fell from her eyes and her voice was broken don't say in a hurry that you can't I came today to ask Mrs Osborne to intercede for me but it is far better to speak to yourself I know I was a brood to you and that you are an angel if you were not I should not come to you but indeed I will try to make myself worthy of you if you will try to like me again my dear Lionel she said smiling faintly through her still falling tears I am afraid I have no need to try I always have have you Ida he sprang from his seat and came toward her what in spite of all oh how happy you make me I have so longed for your love I have been so weary so ashamed so desolate so longing for your soft voice to comfort me if you will trust me we will yet be happy they had not got much further when the door again opened and violet stood in the threshold violet bright thoughtful radiant looking the picture of a good heart and the happy love she stood amazed and as she recalled the by no means calm interview which was to last between her and Lionel she too felt awkward and abashed but she soon saw that a deeper agitation stirred the heart of her companions and her own discomfort melted before the side she was not quite certain what the course of the agitation might be but she suspected it she had never ceased to hope that Lionel's love for her had been an operation and that the calm and trusting affection he had seemed to feel for Ida would in the end prevail and win him back she went towards him and shook hands with Frank cordiality saying as Ida had done we did not know you were in England to which Lionel replied with embarrassment you servant told me you were at home and I came up I am afraid violet said playfully that I have a habit of stealing out without my servant's knowledge always supposing he is to learn the fact by intuition I should not have returned as it is if the day had not been so fine I came back to persuade you to come out Ida she has been shut up with the cold ever since she came to London but it really is fine today is it not yes very he replied twirling his hat then I will go and put on my things Ida said thankfully starting up violet advised that so it should be and she departed they sat down and violet once more felt a little awkward like Ida unable to fix on the proper subject for conversation during the two instances that she took for consideration he had made up his own mind and he said abruptly and coloring deeply I came here to ask you to beg Ida to forgive me but I have asked her herself and it only remains and his countenance worked with the motion and became purple with the effort he made that I should ask you to forgive me yourself oh yes mr vane let bygones be bygones I was very angry once but I never think of it now he seemed relieved at her light tone and the intense glow began to die away and now tell me she said smiling does Ida forgive she never seemed restful but forgiveness is another thing yes and I think she will try me again and if she will I will do all in my power to make her forget what a brute I was to her violet did not immediately speak and a shade of gravity and thoughtfulness stole over her face what are you thinking of he asked anxiously I am wondering she said slowly whether you are worthy of her I do not believe anybody will inquire but me therefore I confess I do feel anxious to know what your feelings for her are how long have you been of this mind I beg your pardon she added seeing the same purple glow and a look of distress on his countenance but Ida is in my house and under my protection and if you will forgive me for saying so I do think something more than the return on your part is required do you love her as she ought to be loved with all your heart I think I do he said tremulously but I have not thought of myself in that way I came back because I longed to have what I once so madly gave up because I could not bear to be absent from her any longer a year ago two years ago if it had not been for shame and pride and again his color rose I should have returned to her but it took time and the weary life I have led to subdue me it is done now and if she consents I hope you will not be my enemy Violet was so surprised at his tone it was so unlike the stately Lionel that she allowed him although satisfied at once to speak to the end before she recovered from her surprise she then said warmly and frankly you must forgive me for having been impertinent if Ida had mother or sister or friend I should not have done it I thank you for it he cried heartily thank you then I assure you she added smiling that so far as my consent is necessary I consent most joyfully and wish you both every happiness that earth can give and now I will call Ida and we will go for walk in the park will you come with us she shook hands with him and went in search of Ida for two years the dread of these two interviews the pride of his heart the shame of confession had kept Lionel weary lonely restless and miserable a wanderer on the face of the earth one vehement resolution was made and in half an hour all was over as simply and prosaically as any other piece of work belonging to the day and here the tale comes to a close Lionel and Ida were not very rich but notwithstanding the chance in the face of affairs since their first engagement they were very comfortable and Lionel was able to do apart at least of the good he had once intended to do his wish had been to settle in London but Ida felt too deeply the consequences of his past neglect of his father to permit this and he gave up his will to hers Lord Ashford was not very happy in his marriage Lady Ashford was young active and good-natured but vulgar-minded and uneducated Lord Ashford owing to the life he had led was growing old apace and required softer cares than hers had he been ten years younger her sympathy with his active life might have bound them together and the rest might have followed with time but infirmities began very shortly after his marriage to make active life a matter of pain and with a mind she had no sympathy his love for Ida had already begun to return in full force and she felt that as a daughter she might still be a help and comfort to him and there was yet a good hope of turning his latter days into the path of pleasantness and peace a house was therefore found in the neighborhood and under Ida's guidance Lionel learned that in a good as well as a selfish sense charity should begin at home The End End of Volume 3 Chapter 19 Recording by Monica Rowley End of Violet Osborne Volume 3 by Lady Emily Ponsonby