A Heart-Song of To-day (Disturbed by Fire from the 'Unruly Member'): A Novel

"Especially in pleading the love of an imaginary sister," said Vaura; "our men would have suggested making love to the lips that were by." "All I have to say is," said Mrs. Haughton, suppressing a yawn, "that the way the Duke went a wooing would never have suited me; I like a man with a spice of boldness in his love-making; a sort of stand and deliver fellow." "Who would not take no," said the Colonel. "Yes, not like the poor victimised Quakeress we hear of; a man looked her way for seven years, then said grace before he took the first kiss." "What an abstainer," laughed her husband; "as for the lazy Duke, he should have stormed the castle and ran off with Viola." "After which, I should have wished him a good night's rest; as I do all and each of you," said Lady Esmondet, rising, and moving towards the door. "Not a bad idea," echoed the Colonel, "as we leave for Surrey in the morning, that is, if you can manage the early, Kate?" "Yes, though rising early is a relic of serfdom, still it is better than vegetating here all day." "Thank you;" turning wistfully to Vaura, he continues-- "I am really sorry you are not going with us, dear; but, promise me, Alice, that you will both be with us for the ball and Christmas festivities?" "It's a long look till Christmas, Eric; but, should the 'miscreator circumstance' not prevent; consider us with you; and, now good-night, you, and all; and a restful sleep." "Good night, everyone," said Vaura, "pleasant dreams; my own dear uncle, good night," and with a soft, white hand on each cheek, her beautiful face is turned upwards for his kiss. "Blanche, you little gambler, away with you," said her step-mother. "Good night, Sir Tilton, think it over: and what merriment you will miss, and of how I shall miss you, if you don't come down with us." "Don't think it possible just yet, but first day I can; with thanks, yours, good night." And now the small baronet alone, and not yet inclined for rest, throws himself back in an easy chair, his hands in his pockets, and shoulders in his ears, thinks himself into such a deep thought that the clock striking two causes him to start. "So late," he murmured, mechanically winding his watch. "What a reverie I have been in! three-quarters of an hour since they left me! Ah, Tilton, this wandering will never do, one cannot have everything, and the other one is true, and makes sure of me. What a ripe, rare loveliness; tut, tut, keep your eyes from her, my boy." And he, too, has gone to the quiet of his chamber and leaves the room to silence and gloom, save for the fitful gleam of an expiring coal in the grate. CHAPTER XI. ON THE WING. The god of slumber did not long hold sway over the senses of our friends, but even so, time, the relentless, striding ever along, did not leave them any spare minutes. Breakfasting at nine, with the exception of Lady Esmondet, and Mrs. Haughton, who partook of their first meal in their own apartments, the one being rather delicate, the other accustomed to indulge the body; all were more or less eagerly active; poor Lady Esmondet in sympathy with her old love, each now thinking by change, to divert the mind from the might have been; Mrs. Haughton loved the prospect of her throne at the Hall, and of daily wooing the love of her idol to be domesticated there. Blanche, the wee white mouse, longed for the greater freedom to be alone, or to play detective over others, that a large estate would give her. Everly just now had so many conflicting emotions he scarcely knew which was uppermost. As for Vaura, she looked forward with intense pleasure to a lengthened sojourn in the immortal city; knowing life at Haughton under the present _regime_ would be distasteful to her. "The gentleman from London, my lady," said Somers, entering and presenting the card of Mr. Huntingdon. "Very well; he is, I suppose, in our sitting room?" "Yes, my lady." "Now, Vaura, _ma chere_, take flight to Poppingay's, and bring your maid, who can carry my parcels. You will find what I require at his shop. I am so glad to know you are with me for some time, dear." "_Au revoir!_ I shall be fleet as a deer." Now Lady Esmondet, turning her steps in the direction of the Haughton apartments, entering, said: "I have come to wish you _bon voyage_; my lawyer is here; I know there will be a general exodus of you all soon, while I am closeted with him--he is a little bit of a tyrant and cross as a bear, if interrupted." "A man would be a bear if he could be cross to you, Alice," said Col. Haughton, noting, regretfully, how delicate she looked. "So that he does not give me a bear's hug, I shall survive it." "It would be very pleasant this raw morning. Farewell, Lady Esmondet, a gay trip to you," said Mrs. Haughton. "Good-bye, Alice," and her hand is held tightly; "take care of yourself; I know you will of Vaura. Remember Christmas at Haughton." "Farewell, Eric; I shall not forget," and the blue eyes met his kindly. "Awful fuss you make over that woman, Colonel." "She is a very old friend, Kate." "Yes, I know, and as cold and polished as your grand-mother's diamonds. If she does respond to your warm invite, she will freeze us all, so we shall have to use all the timber to thaw out." "You do not know her yet, dear." Vaura only returned in time to say a few hurried words of parting. The carriage in which Mrs. Haughton and Blanche are seated is waiting her uncle at the door, watch in hand. "Only a minute, and we are off," he cried, on seeing Vaura and her maid appear. "God bless you, darling; good-bye, good-bye," he said, kissing her affectionately; "do not fall in love with any Italian, I want you to marry at home." "Not even Garibaldi," said Vaura archly, though a tear glistened. "Just fancy my home, a lone isle of the sea. Good-bye, dear uncle; take good care of him, Mrs. Haughton. Good-bye, Blanche; there is a mine of pleasure in store for you at Haughton; _bon voyage_ all." "She is lovely enough to win even Garibaldi from thoughts of Italy, past and present," said her uncle, lovingly. "Colonel, I wish you would press Sir Tilton to come with us," said his wife; "I have grown so accustomed to him, I could do without Mason easier." It was rather of a bore to the Colonel, this running in couples; when he married a wife, he did not marry this acquaintance of hers; but just now he feels that he himself deserves the lash as the fair face of the lost Alice arises before him, and knowing that the Hall would not now be open for guests only for his wife's gold. So the answer the son and inheritor of the estate makes to the daughter of the ballet-dancer is, "Certainly, dear; anyone that will give you pleasure;" and turning to Sir Tilton, who is driving to the station with them, says: "You had better run down with us, Everly, if you have nothing else in view." "Thank you, Colonel; have pressing business at London;" to quiet his duns, which he did not deem necessary to communicate; "but can and will be with you a month from now." "You are very disagreeable, Sir Tilton, and not worth a cent." "You are right," thought the small baronet. "I want you to teach my pug tricks," continued Blanche poutingly. "Come soon, dear baronet," said Mrs. Haughton; "by-by; remember me." "Could a man do otherwise? Pleasant trip; goodbye." And the iron horse is off, leaving the man about town who plays his cards with a winning hand, alone on the platform. "I shall hasten back to the hotel, they may not yet have left;" meaning by 'they,' Lady Esmondet and Vaura. "It will look quite natural to see them, and say the others are safely away." Hurrying along, he reached the hotel to hear they had left "ten minutes previously; just leaving twenty minutes till she sails, sir," said the porter. Hailing a passing cab, Everly offered double fare if in time. Fortune favoured him in allowing him to be in time to assist another gentleman (whom he thought to be on tantalizing intimate terms) in looking after the comfort of the travellers. "Delighted I'm in time to be of any service, Miss Vernon," he said, heartily; "afraid you are going to have rain. "I am protected, Sir Tilton," she said, smilingly, and holding up her arm in water-proof ulster. "Many women, when they don the armour of protection, so ill become it, that we are fain to see them unprotected; but you are born to wear anything, and look so well we don't want any new fashion." "Always allowing, Sir Tilton, for the natural changeableness of man, which would assert itself in spite of a momentary wish." "You could hold us at will," he said, picking up a rose that had fallen from her bouquet; "may I?" and it is carefully put on his coat. "Trust me, Sir Tilton," she said, gaily; "I have made your sex (loving it, as I do) a study. Charles Reade was right; you are 'born to hunt something;' it certainly is not the old, which is past, but the new; yes, say what you will, an innate love of variety--even to our gown," she added, merrily, "is an inherent part of your nature." "Vaura, come, or you will be left on the dock in the enforced guardianship of Sir Tilton Everly," said Lady Esmondet. "Adieu, Sir Tilton," said Vaura; "breathe a prayer to Neptune that our wardrobe is complete without day or night caps." "_Bon voyage_; shall be at Haughton Hall to welcome you;" and, lifting his hat, he was again left to his own devices, while Vaura, taking the arm of Mr. Roland Douglas, went aboard the boat. "Who is your handy little man. Vaura?" asked he. "Sir Tilton Everly." "Of where?" "Of everywhere, my dear boy." "Might be going there now, judging from the way he is tearing up the street." "Perhaps he is on a mad tear after Mrs. Haughton." "It's all very well, Vaura, to try, now the dear little fellow is away, to shunt him off on to Mrs. Haughton, he's not on a mad tear after them; you mow 'em down, tares and wheat, together." "I feel quite agricultural," said Vaura, laughing, as they joined Lady Esmondet, who was talking to a Government _attache_, from London. "Mr. Douglas calls me a mowing machine." Here, Mr. Bertram came forward to shake hands with Vaura. "I was beginning to think you would not cross to-day, Vaura," said Lady Esmondet. "Sir Tilton seemed unable to tear himself away." "It's getting too much for my feelings, Vaura," said Douglas, in serio-comic tones; "tares again." "What's the joke?" asked Bertram; "the fellow had a green and yellow melancholy look about him, I noticed." "Again! pile on the agony, tares and wheat are green and yellow." "Tares and wheat," remarked Bertram. "If that's your text, Douglas, I shall tear myself away, and pace the deck alone, if Lady Esmondet, or Miss Vernon, won't take pity on me; I don't care for sermons, nor to be classed with the tares. Who is the mannikin, Douglas," continued Bertram. "What's his name, and where's his hame; she dinna choose to tell," said Douglas. "You are a greater tease than ever, Roland; I did tell you, but on the way you lost it; but now again give ear--" "Not only mine ear," he interrupted, "but my whole being, fairest of Surrey enslavers." "Well, Roland, the irrepressible, from the lips of the women who love him, the mannikin is, dear or _cara mia_ before Tilton Everly to his men friends, and Sir Tilton Everly to society; art satisfied?" "By no means," he said slyly. "He is only a gay little sunflower," said Lady Esmondet. "Sunning himself in woman's smiles, and perhaps, who knows, laying up somewhere out at interest, the smiles he gives in return, but, Roland _mon cher_, Vaura is not his banker (she has always a hand full of trumps and they are hearts)."