nsequence was that her health suffered, and
she became a prey to the varied torments of neuralgia, while Theodora
proved herself a better nurse than could have been expected for an
illness in which she only half believed.

Many hopes were fixed on John's return; but this was deferred,--he
was in the midst of church building, and establishing schemes to which
absence would be fatal, and he could only promise to come home next
year, when things should be put in train. To his sister he wrote a
letter so full of warm affectionate gratitude for her exertions in his
behalf, that she was positively soothed and refreshed, and reckoned the
more on beginning with him the fraternal union so long delayed, but to
which she looked as the solace of her future life.

As to Percival Fotheringham, there was no further explanation of his
marriage. John wrote to Violet that he had not heard from him for many
months, for it was difficult to keep up a correspondence between Barbuda
and the continental towns whither he was journeying. His last letter
had spoken of a tour in Italy in contemplation, and that in which he had
communicated Lady Fotheringham's death, mentioned some of her last
cares being for Jane and Georgina, and how she had tried to leave some
provision which might rescue the former from the necessity of following
her sister into the undesirable society she found abroad. This only
served to confirm Theodora's conjecture.

From other sources no intelligence was gained. London was empty, and
Violet saw no one likely to know anything of his movements; and when she
heard that Mark Gardner had been in town, and eagerly inquired whether
he had been asked, she found that Arthur had forgotten the whole matter.
Lady Elizabeth finished the letter, rejoicing in his departure, by
saying--'He confirms what I told you of the marriage of his cousin
and Mr. Fotheringham, and calls it a lucky thing for her. I had no
opportunity of hearing the particulars.' And, finally, Mrs. Bryanstone
had heard of Miss Gardner's marriage with one of the Fotheringhams of
Worthbourne, and only wanted Mrs. Martindale to strengthen her in the
belief that it was the dear, eccentric Crusader.

CHAPTER 7

'Mid sombre shades of evening dim
Upon the rock so lone, so drear,
Scorning weak frame and sinking limb,
My heart grows bright and bold of cheer;
Out of the depths of stormy night
My hope looks up with cloudless eyes