A Heart-Song of To-day (Disturbed by Fire from the 'Unruly Member'): A Novel
America, may yet in the near future wrest from us our position in
manufacturing of Head servant to the household of the world. Many of
we British want a rough reminder like that."
"Yes," said Vaura, "some of our manufacturers forget that younger
nations are wide-awake and eager to pass us by at a hand-galop, while
we go dozing through time with our night-caps on."
"We are England, that's enough, and we cannot realize that the world
moves. We plume ourselves upon the time when we handed from our docks
everything to poor indolent Europe, or only for the ignorant
colonies," said Lady Esmondet, ironically.
"_N'importe, chere_ Lady Esmondet," answered Trevalyon, merrily. "Our
manufacturers will wake with a start in 1878, and forego both night-
caps; they won't have time to brew the one or don the other in
surprise at exhibits from the poor colonies and the ingenious
Americans."
"I have no doubt our manufacturers with myself will not be off with
our old loves, while we can keep them; my comforts are safe, for I
seduced one of the cooks from the club to come here with me; so night
or day caps are to the fore," said Bertram.
"I thought," replied Trevalyon, "for a man of your taste, you had a
most contentedly jolly look; no wonder, when we know the way to the
aldermanic heart is through the aldermanic stomach."
"Capt. Trevalyon," laughingly said Vaura, "besides the _recherche_
little dinner Mr. Bertram has bid us to, I want you to cater to--
another sense and let us see the immense Hotel Continental!"
"Consider the Continental on the programme, my dear Miss Vernon; Mr.
Bertram's _chef de cuisine_ will cater to the inner man," answered
Trevalyon.
"Women sometimes eat," said Vaura, demurely.
"How gay the streets look," remarked Lady Esmondet, "it is always a
_fete_ day _a_ Paris."
"A month or two ago the bands in the parks filled the air with music,"
said Vaura; "now it is filled with the murmur of many voices, see the
little chesnut-seller doing his part."
"Here we are, _Hotel Liberte le Soleil_," said Trevalyon, as the
carriage stopped.
"And here we part," said Bertram, "not, in the language of the poet,
'to meet no more,' but to meet on to-morrow eve at my appartments, and
I shall inform my cook that three of England's epicures honour me, and
to get up something better than frogs' legs."
"We shall expect ambrosia," laughed Lady Esmondet.
"_Tres bien_, I shall not forget," said Bertram, as he made his
adieux.
"Au revoir, Bertram," cried Trevalyon. "And for your life don't forget
a dish of turtle's liver from Voisin's.
"We have teased him enough at all events," said Lady Esmondet; "but as
for turtle's liver, I am rather chary of it as yet. But do my eyes
deceive me, or is it petticoat government here?"
"Yes, feminine rule is the order of the day," replied Trevalyon.
"How important we look in possession of office, desk and stool; I was
not aware we had mounted so high anywhere outside the United States,"
said Lady Esmondet.
Here a man in neat livery stepped forward to show them to their suite
of apartments, which Trevalyon, at the written request of his friend,
had secured, who now seeing his companions _en route_ for their rooms,
bent his steps in the direction of the office to complete the
necessary business arrangements.
CHAPTER XV.
HEART-STIRS.
As our friends followed the servant, a child's cry proceeded from one
of the salons as they passed; the page had a comedy face, and Vaura
thinking his reply might amuse, asked:
"Do the babies take care of each other?"
With a farcical expression, the man answered unlocking the doors:
"_Oui_, Mademoiselle."
"Women crow everywhere, for men are no where, and babies anywhere."
The maids seeing to bath and toilette, their mistresses met in the
comfortable _salon_ which was entered on either side from each
sleeping chamber and small boudoir; soon in pleasant converse, or
pauses of quiet, as friends who know and love each other can indulge
in; Lady Esmondet and Vaura passed the time until the _entree_ of
Trevalyon to escort them to the _salle a manger_ and _table d'hote_;
as he sees them he thinks, "how charming they look refreshed and
re-robed, each wearing gown and neck-gear, artistic in draping and
colour. How is it that some women have (Vaura always had it), some
innate gift in robing, causing one's eyes to rest on them and not
tire, again both possess a subtle charm of manner; Vaura has as veil a
voice that woos one as she speaks. Haughton shall have my warmest
thanks for giving me such companionship; dear old fellow, he did not
forget my request." And stepping to Vaura, he hands her a bouquet of
sweet tea-roses, saying:
"You see, Miss Vernon, your Knight of the Lion Heart, as in days of
yore you dubbed me, has not forgotten the button-hole bouquets you
used to make as child hostess; it is not aesthetic, as from your
fingers; this is only from the basket of one of the people."
"_Merci_; as your unfashionably retentive memory bring me so much of
sweetness, then am I happy in your being unfashionable." And as she
fastened a few to her corsage, placing the remainder in a vase, she
continued: "See, god-mother dear, my sweet tea-roses with their
perfumed voice will remind us of our usual excursion on to-morrow."
"And may I know what this usual excursion is?" asked Trevalyon, as he
seated himself between his companions at table.
"Surely, yes," said Vaura; "one we almost invariably make on coming
abroad, should we be located at an hotel for many days, where they
don't as a rule, cater to one's olfactory nerves, we journey to some
of the conservatories and rob them of many odorous blossoms, to
brighten our temporary home; this time we carry a large order for
Haughton Hall, so large indeed, that I should not wonder; did the
vendors take us for market gardeners; robbing sweet sunny Paris to
brighten and perfume our London fog."
"Or perhaps," said Lady Esmondet, "as there is so much discussion is
Canadian newspapers over Free Trade _versus_ Protection; the great
unread may mix us so up that we buy before duty is laid."
"Take my word for it, Lady Alice, did the Frenchman look upon you as
despoilers, in the long run, he would not even try to resist making
your purse as trash for to-day."
"Were I a flower vendor," said Vaura, "I should be a follower of
Bastiat, and gather my roses while I may, by selling cheap as I could
and buying cheap."
"Are you feeling better, Lady Alice, though to my eyes you are looking
much as when last I saw you; Haughton tells me you are going to Italy
for change," he said kindly.
"Yes, I don't feel quite myself, Lionel; and Italy will be sun-warm,
what I require, my physician tells me; but the air on the water has
given me such an apetite, I feel better already."
"The very scene we are in is enough to cure one; so bright, so gay,
_chic_ in every way," said Vaura.
"Yes, 'tis brimful of animation," said Trevalyon; and the _salle a
manger_ is preferable to privacy; when one travels, 'tis more of a
change to live its life, the continuous noise, bustle and excitement
take one out of oneself."
"Which is a panacea for all one's ills," said Vaura.
"You have not yet told us your experience in the office; was the
major-domo very peremptory?" asked Lady Esmondet.
"No; on the whole she bore her high seat meekly enough."
"Now to me," said Vaura, "it is more preferable to, as women did in
days of yore, buckle on the armour for some brave Knight, see that
helmet and breast-plate are secure, and send him forth into the
world's turmoil; yes, I am content to live my woman life."
"Because you know your power and feel it sweet, is why you are
content," he said in low tones, letting his mesmeric eyes rest on her
beautiful face.
"But is it true, Lionel," said Lady Esmondet, (as they left the table,
followed by many eyes), "is it true that at Bordeaux, Lyons,
Marseilles, &c., women fill manly offices?"
"True, 'tis true, and I must tell you a funny incident bearing on this
question. My friend, Ross Halton, was over at New York immediately
after their recent monster elections; a friend of his was defeated;
his agent telling him there was foul play somewhere, for numerous
votes promised him were eventually polled for the other side; passing
the house of a party man, out of curiosity he went in to ascertain if
he had been true to his colours; on asking him, the man looking
sheepish, hanging his head, said: 'The wife's democrat, sir,' while a
quick determined, little woman stepped forward, saying: 'he,' pointing
to her husband, 'sees you or your agent once a year, when you come to
buy his vote; he lives with me!'"
"Whither are we drifting?" said Lady Esmondet, sinking into a chair.
"Whither are we drifting," echoed Vaura, with animation, "as sure as
Fate, into the 'Gy' and 'An' of Bulwer's New Utopia; but talking of
woman's rights, reminds me of the rights of man. Did you say dear
uncle gave you your charter to meet us so opportunely, and locate us
so pleasantly.".
"I did, _ma belle_; but you scarcely heard, as at the time you were
listening to the adieux of the Douglas."
"Ah, yes, poor Roland," and Trevalyon saw that a little sigh was
given, but there is no sadness in the dark eyes turned again to him,
as she says, "and poor uncle; I wonder what the county people will
think of Madame."
"She can make herself popular if she will; she at all events has the
wherewithal to buy their vote," said Lady Esmondet, as she buried
herself in _London Truth_.
"Yes, that's true, I suppose she will take," said Vaura, musingly.
"You don't know how delightful I find the being again with you, Miss
Vernon," said Trevalyon, earnestly. "Such a lapse of time since the
old life at Haughton."
"Yes, I remember well," and the rose deepened in her soft cheek, "so
well the last time I saw you there."
"Do you; I am glad you do not forget what I never shall," and he
leaned forward, looking at her almost gravely.
Vaura too, in her long look backward, had a tremulous softness in her
expression, with a far-away look in the eyes, vividly recalling the
lovely child-woman to his memory. Rousing herself, she says: "Lady
Esmondet, _ma chere_, you should bury yourself in your couch instead
of _Truth_, it grows late; and I am to take care of you."
"In a few moments, dear, I am on something that interests me," she
said, without raising her eyes from the paper.
"And I," said Trevalyon, "am forgetting a friend in my apartments;
lonely and alone in a strange place."
"Your friend," said Vaura, with a swift thought to the hidden wife,
"must think you the extreme of fashionable to receive at the witching
hour of midnight."
"My friend does not care whether I be fashionable, but worships me,
and would be with me morning, noon and night."
"You speak as if you believe," she said, veiling her eyes, and idly
picking off the leaves of the roses.
"Yes, past doubting; not being a Christian, I am the only god my
friend worships."
"Women have spoiled you, Capt. Trevalyon; you boast of our idolatry."
For the first time he partly reads her latent thought; and saying,
hurriedly, "Stay here five minutes," rising quickly, left the boudoir.
"What has he gone away so hastily for?" enquired Lady Esmondet,
turning from the newspaper. "Lionel, dear fellow, is usually so easy
in his gait."
"To see some one who worships at his shrine; said he would return in
five minutes;" she answered, carelessly.
"Oh! he did not say who?"
"No, it might have been awkward."
"Why? what do you mean, _ma chere_?"
"It might relate to the hidden wife story."
"Nonsense, Vaura; mark my words, he has no more a hidden wife than you
have a hidden husband."