A Heart-Song of To-day (Disturbed by Fire from the 'Unruly Member'): A Novel
opposed to Eve.
Roland Douglas had not as yet told his love to Vaura, a great dread
mastering him lest he had not won her love, for her merry banter and
kind sisterly manner led him to fear her heart, that he coveted beyond
all that earth could give, was not for him, but he told himself he
must speak, and that soon, for longer suspense was more than he could
endure; he hoped that her sympathetic nature might tell in his favour,
and that in pitying his great loneliness, she would come to him.
CHAPTER XIV.
OF LIONEL TREVALYON.
Meanwhile our friends are rapidly nearing Paris, and, even as we
speak, their train is at the depot.
"Ah, here we are, and our pleasant journeying _pour le present_ a
thing of the past," said Lady Esmondet.
"How long a stay do you make here?" asked Bertram, giving her his arm
to a _carrosse_.
"The Fates only know; _la belle_ Paris offers so many attractions,
that I have decided not to make up my mind in the matter, for I always
am seduced into staying a much longer time than I had previously
intended; there is always so much to amuse one."
"And such a legion of people to see," said Vaura; "there is no place
like Paris for enchaining one, and causing one to love one's chains."
"Look, quick," cried Lady Esmondet, hurriedly, "some one; is that
Captain Trevalyon over there, evidently looking for some one, or is it
his spirit?"
"It is he in the flesh; and looking anything but _spirituel_," said
Vaura as she thought, "Yes, she would know him anywhere; her knight;
so different to any other man she meets."
Yes, Vaura, so we all think when our king comes; beware, guard your
heart, if you would not yield to this fascinating man who slays at
will.
"Stay, foolish heart," thought on Vaura, "you are even now feeling
less interest in Roland, who would die for you; fill thy whole being
with a careless gaiety, and leave no room for a softer feeling to
master thee; remember the 'hidden wife,' and even should she not
exist, remember hearts are his game."
"Ah, the dear fellow sees us, and is pushing his way towards us," said
Lady Esmondet.
"The _dear_ fellow," said Douglas. "that's the way all you ladies
speak of Trevalyon, lucky fellow."
"And he, from what I hear, takes their homage as his right," said
Bertram.
"Oh! yes, as coolly as possible," said Vaura, gayly; "he's a bit of
philosopher, you know; I remember I used to wonder if he had feelings
like common mortals, and if all his loves were platonic; I vow I have
a great notion to become a disciple of Plato myself; 'twould save one
a world of heart-ache."
"Treason, treason," laughed Douglas; "better be a follower of
Epicurus."
"What nonsense you people do talk," said Bertram, in mock reproof,
"and neither of you mean a word of what you say. I now prophesy; that
out of revenge, Cupid will wound your large heart, Miss Vernon, and
you will give up to some thrice fortunate man; as for you, Douglas I
prophesy many a bumping heart-ache."
"And how long, oh prophet, do you give us of freedom; how long before
our chains are forged?" enquired Vaura, jestingly.
"Ere the chill of winter is felt in our land," Bertram answered in
mock earnestness.
"And the cry of the farmer is heard, as he sees the black frost on the
spring wheat," laughed Douglas.
"Delighted to see you, Lady Esmondet," said Trevalyon, taking off his
hat and shaking hands; "and you also, Miss Vernon, it is more than
ages since I have had any more than a glimpse at you. Allow me to
welcome you all to fair Paris; Colonel Haughton assigned me the very
pleasant role of attendant cavalier during your stay here, as also
body guard to your royal highnesses on your journey to the Immortal
city, whither I too am bound; why, Douglas, you here, and wherefore? I
thought you had not yet deserted your winged loves at Atholdale; any
good shooting this season?"
"Yes, pretty fair," answered Douglas, disappointed at the way things
were turning out, and wishing Trevalyon at South Africa, or any where,
so he was not by Vaura's side. He knew Trevalyon to be a man of
cultivated intellect, with a fascination of manner all women succumbed
to, with fully ten years more experience of life than his own, and
with a nice knowledge of all types of women. He knew him to be the
dread of all mothers with marriageable daughters, both for themselves
as disturbing their calm resignation as to what husband Fate had given
them, as also the sad havoc he made among their brood; of how they
plumed their feathers at his coming and drooped them at his going,
causing many an eligible suitor to retire from the field. Society
wondered that Trevalyon did not range himself, seeing so many
beautiful women his conquests. He shrugged his shoulders when chaffed
by his men friends as to his flirtations and cruelty, and would say:
"A slave of the ring is not a _role_ I have any wish to play; at all
events none of the pretty women I have flirted with so far have had
the power to hold me as her own. And until I meet a woman who can hold
me, and keep me from a wish to rove, I shall keep my freedom."
Then he would laugh and say: "After all, _mon ami_, I am not as cruel,
cold, or flirting as yourself. Your motto after as well as before
marriage is: _Si l'amour a des ailes n'est-ce pas pour voltiger_.
Better to act on that principle prior to (as you say I do), than after
marriage, as I know you all do; better not put the shackles on until
one meets a woman who will cause one not to feel them. As to your
charge of heartlessness against me, trust me; you say I know them;
under the amiable exterior of some of the most gentle-voiced and
loveliest, there throbs a cruel heartlessness.
"After all there is a good deal of the feline in woman, witness the
many marriages, ninety-nine out of every hundred are made by our
fashionable women, for money or position? Yes, they like the warm
corner, it matters not who gives it; and the man who loves them, and
whom they love--in a way, may eat his heart out alone; for no, they
will not listen to his pleadings, he has no gold. And they marry a man
to whom they are perfectly indifferent, not so to his belongings,
these they love with all the love of their feline hearts. No, I am not
cruel, I only amuse myself as you do, and in the way each likes best."
He acknowledges there must be women who are heroines, and perhaps he
may yet meet them, but as yet, he "only knows in God's world there
must be women men might worship."
"_Sans doute_," he says: "When petticoat does remain tender and true,
it is hard upon her that her lord should prove false and fickle, given
the warm corner our fair 'sisters, cousins, and our aunts,' are
content to purr; they shine in society, and have gained what is the
very end and aim of their existence, a wealthy marriage."
It is no wonder that poor Douglas, knowing the manner of man Trevalyon
was, dreaded his companionship for Vaura; what if she should charm, as
she certainly could if she would, the game would all be up for him;
and even should Vaura, knowing his reputation as a successful male
flirt, be on her guard. If Trevalyon determined to win her, the many
fascinations of manner he was master of, he having made woman a study,
would cause her, he feared, to succumb at the last. He felt unmanned,
and decided to leave them and go at once for Isabel, and proceed back
to England. For of one thing he felt sure, and that was that Trevalyon
would be attracted by Vaura, if it were only for her originality, the
freshness of her thoughts, her gay droll cynicism with no malice in
it, merely showing she went through life with open eyes; her sunny
temperament and gay conversation, to say nothing of her dear loveable
self, and as he turned to look at her, her laughing grey eyes looking
like stars, and a smile on her perfect lips, as she chatted gayly, he
inwardly moaned at what he might never call his own.
"Come, Roland," Vaura cried, "there's room for thee, most grave and
reverend _seigneur_; for you do look as grave as an owl this moment.
Is thy favourite pipe missing, or hast lost thy pet brand of that
panacea for thy every ill, tobacco?"
"No, I am not bereft of my old friend, my meerschaum pipe; but, being
only a mere sham," he added with a forced laugh, "I don't expect it to
develop qualities that will console me at parting with you and Lady
Esmondet, whose remembrance of me, I hope, will prove more than a
sham."
"A pretty speech, Roland," said Vaura, stepping from the carriage to
speak to him; "but I protest against this parting."
"You forget, Vaura, what my mission, at least my avowed mission, was,"
he said, in an undertone, "incoming to Paris; I shall now go for
Isabel. And away, you have a man with you now who never thinks or
cares for the hunger and thirst of the men near him; he drinks the cup
of sweets to the dregs himself. Good-bye; think of me sometimes, for
you must know you are always in my thoughts."
And stepping forward with Vaura, he placed her in the carriage, and
wishing all good-bye and much enjoyment, saying to Vaura and Lady
Esmondet: "Don't fail to make the Hall blithe and gay at Christmas by
your presence;" lifted his hat and was gone. Trevalyon was not slow to
see this little by-play, and his mental conclusion was:
"Another fellow gone, stricken by a fair woman face, well I don't
wonder, by Jove; for the beautiful little girl has developed into a
lovelier woman, a man need not be ashamed to be the conquest of a face
figure, and I've heard men say, mind, like Vaura Vernon possesses;
heaven be praised for the retreat of the Douglas, though had the
Douglas been wise he'd have kept the field, or tried to, but now I,
while guarding my heart, shall talk to her; it will be a pleasant way
to kill time, and her vivacity, merry banter, chit-chat, or grave to
gay, or who knows, tender humours, will be a pleasant study in Rome
for the next month or two."
"Well, here we are snug at last," said Lady Esmondet, as they rolled
along to their hotel in a comfortable carriage; "and I am not sorry,
for _je suis tres fatiguee_. But I am really sorry Roland has gone;
you will have to exert yourself, Lionel, if you don't want us to miss
him, for we shall be altogether at your tender mercy."
"It is such seductive happiness the knowing you are leaning upon me,
that I, Trevalyon, warn you both I shall do all I can to cause you not
to regret the Douglas."
"You forget, _ma chere_ godmother," said Vaura, "that we also have Mr.
Bertram; he is a man of weight," she added laughingly, "and can surely
share the weighty matter of our amusement with Captain Trevalyon."
Mr. Bertram has his weighty agency on his mind, you know; he is one of
the agents sent by government to attend to our interests at the coming
exposition, and as the Prince of Wales, heaven bless him, has
personally interested himself to make the huge show one great success,
they will all vie with each other in their different departments;
indeed, I expect Mr. Bertram will only now have time to fly in
occasionally to have a look at us. How about your lazy club life, Mr.
Bertram?"
"Yes, Bertram, your luxurious go-as-you-please existence is at London;
you _a_ Paris," said Trevalyon gayly.
"I fully expect my gossips at the club won't know me on my return; I
shall be a skeleton frame, rack and bones, and my aldermanic rotundity
will be in the streets and audience chambers of Paris."
"A man of your size, Bertram, won't regret a few pounds of flesh
weighed in the balance as against the success of our exhibits," said
Trevalyon.
"Not while I remember," answered Bertram, "Gladstone's remarks in the
_Fortnightly Review_, his almost prediction (unless we bestir
ourselves): That England's daughter, the Great United States of