A Heart-Song of To-day (Disturbed by Fire from the 'Unruly Member'): A Novel
turned her head smiling her sweetest, with a word of thanks to small
Everly, who returned it with a look of half-comical disappointment,
and with one long step was at Mrs. Wingfield's side, saying:
"Never mind your cloak, Mrs. Wingfield; cool and easy does it; take my
arm, Mr. Bertram will probably come up at an opportune moment and robe
you, this is the latest and most successful manner of escorting a lady
to her carriage."
"There is many a slip 'twixt cup and lip," said Mrs. Wingfield,
laughingly; "you had your innings the early part of the evening, it is
only fair her _preux chevalier_ should have his revenge."
"Yes, I've been bowled out this time, but Don Juan isn't going to have
any more innings if Tilton knows anything."
"What courage the atom has," thought Mrs. Wingfield, but she said,
"Don Juan, indeed, 'Satan reproving sin,' what about a certain Mrs.
H., that you sigh to the inconstant moon for. But we are nearing the
others and the carriage; so a truce to confidentials. Adieu."
On the ladies entering the carrosse, the gentlemen bidding adieu _pour
le present_, saying they would walk, Sir Tilton stepping back a pace
enquired of Vaura "If he should have the pleasure of seeing her on
that night week at the de Hauteville ball?"
"Yes, we are due there, and make an exception of their ball, we are
such friends, but go to no more crushes presided over by Terpsichore
while _a Paris_. _Au revoir_."
CHAPTER XIX.
FOR A FAIR WOMAN FACE.
"What an irrepressible fellow Everly is," thought Trevalyon, as he
sauntered along the avenue towards his hotel; having heard his
question to Vaura (as to the ball), "he manages to get a card for
everything. I should not regret his departure for anywhere; our little
_coterie_ was perfect without him. Vaura is extremely lovely and
fascinating, she, of course, is the magnet that draws him; what a
presumptuous little poppet he is, a mere fortune-hunter, hanger-on of
society to dare turn his eyes in her direction. But am I not taking
too deep an interest in this sweet Vaura Vernon. I must guard my
heart; she is a flirt, I must beware. Another tender billet from Mrs.
Haughton, and full of this hidden-wife falsehood; I have been
careless, never even having told Haughton the truth of the matter.
Every seven years, it seems to me, there is a rehash of by-gone
villifications; one must only grin and bear it, but I do feel it
terribly just now, not because it is what it always was, 'a lie
direct,' but because of my close companionship with my dear friend and
bewitching Vaura."
Let us now follow small Everly, and read some of his thoughts; with
rapid steps he is soon at his destination, where, seating himself in a
huge easy chair which almost hides his small body, draws a table to
his side, on which are placed his pipe, glass of punch, with some
letters.
"Gad, a missive from Aunt Martha," he exclaimed. "Whether it be sugar
or vinegar it will keep until I do the others."
One was from his lawyer telling him the Jews were after him; with a
muttered exclamation of "they must wait," he threw it aside. The
others were from acquaintances--mere chit-chat; "and now for the old
girls," he thought, which on opening a bank draft for L50 dropped out.
"Gad! almost a holocaust," he said, picking it from the dying embers
in the grate. "And now for the letter."
"MY DEAR NEPHEW,--Enclosed you will find a draft for fifty pounds; it
is extremely inconvenient to remit you even such a small sum, but I
promised your mother on her death-bed to give you all the assistance
in our power, as also did your sister Amy; and so please heaven we
shall, as we are quite aware that the trifle you inherit from your
father is extremely small for the maintenance of an English baronet.
Moreover, considering it an honour to the house of Morton that an
Everly should have linked himself thereto, we have decided to let you
have Johnston's rent for the future, and regularly. But, dear nephew,
remember you cannot afford to make a mere love-match; you must marry
an heiress. Your setter Hecate has had pups, which we shall nurse
tenderly for you, as they represent money. But the school bell rings
me away, and, dear nephew, from you I go with my pupils into the
mysteries of pounds, shillings and pence. You will laugh and say you
and they are always associated in my mind; and it is so, for, you are
both things of worth. When you marry some rich young lady (you know
whom I tell you you can win), I shall pay a master to take the
arithmetic class. Make your old aunts glad with the news of a wealthy
marriage being arranged for you. Acknowledge draft.
"With much love, from your affectionate Aunt,
"MARTHA MORTON.
"Sir Tilton Everly,
"Paris, Hotel European,
2nd Nov., 1887."
"It will please the aunts if I write instanter, so here goes."
"DEAR AUNT MARTHA,--Draft received, came in handy, can assure you. You
are a jolly pair of relations for a fellow to have; never wanted the
needful more. I know I shall have to marry money; I expect I guess
correctly as to the girl you mean, but tallow candles are out of
fashion. I know the gilding is thick, and debts are a bother. But you
never fear for Tilton, he may yet win a glorious beauty and great
expectations from a titled relation. Eureka! I can tell you; aunts you
have no idea what a fuss society makes over me. Glad Hecate has done
something for a living, or rather for mine. Goodnight or morning, for
it is one a.m.
"Your devoted Nephew,
"TILTON EVERLY.
"Miss Morton's Seminary,
"Bayswater, Suburbs, London Eng.
Nov., 5th, 1877."
"Yes, 'pon my life, the old girls are right, I must have the sovereign
for my name; pity I was born with a taste for the beautiful; my father
was wanting in forethought on my account, or he would never have wed
penniless Rose Morton; here am I over head and ears in love with a
peerless beauty, with not much or not enough of the needful to keep us
both in style; there is not a doubt though that she will inherit from
that stately godmother of hers. Never say die, Tilton, my boy; she
smiled on you to-night, go in and win; why, the very thought of her
sends the blood dancing through my veins; splendid figure, perfect as
a Venus. She knows naught of my relations to that young schemer, and
if my love by a stern fate says nay, she is too much accustomed to
conquests to boast; and the other who is ready to marry me any day
will, never know anything to erect her spine about; a week from
tonight the de Hauteville ball, I shall there know the best or worst;
if I fail it won't be because of aught wanting in myself, but because
I cannot win over the Lady of Esmondet; then, if so, I shall hide my
groans under an M.P., and the gold of my lemon-face, to whom I shall
not exactly play count to her, Miss Kilmansegg, for I could not act
such a villain's part; but I must have some hobby to ride, to make up
for the sacrifice of self; and now to bed and sleep or dream."
CHAPTER XX.
QUICKENED HEART-BEATS.
On the morning of the de Hauteville ball, Trevalyon broke his fast
somewhat earlier than usual, purposing to indulge in a long ride. In
passing the salon of Lady Esmondet and Vaura, the door of which had
been pushed open by his dog Mars half an hour previously. Trevalyon
made a momentary pause, he could not see Lady Esmondet through the
opening, only our sweet Vaura, who listening to her godmother, idly
ate of some fresh fruit, while the other fair hand caressed Mars. She
looked a very child of the morning, so charmingly bright, in a pale
blue quilted satin dressing gown, with low turned down collar; not
wishing to interrupt her godmother who read aloud an English letter
she spoke to Trevalyon silently, standing in the opening door-way,
only with the eyes and her own syren smile; the temptation to linger
was too much for him, and he was about to enter when turning, as he
heard a step coming quickly along the corridor from the visitors grand
elevator, saw Sir Tilton coming towards him carrying a huge bouquet.
And knowing for whom it was intended, preferring not to be a witness
to the presentation with a "_Bonjour_, Everly," and "How do,
Trevalyon;" they went their different ways, the one into the light of
woman's eyes, the other into the lights of the streets of Paris.
Sir Tilton, with a laughing "Any admittance to a devoted subject," and
a gay _entrez_ from Vaura was in the boudoir.
"I thought I heard Captain Trevalyon's voice; was he not with you?"
enquired Lady Esmondet as she shook hands with Everly.
"Yes, Lady Esmondet, he was outside and lingered a moment, but was
able to resist the temptation to enter to which I had to succumb,"
with an admiring glance at Vaura.
After half an hour spent in gay chit-chat, Lady Esmondet, consulting
her watch, reminded Vaura of their purposed drive; and with a promise
asked by Sir Tilton, and given by Vaura, that she would wear one of
his flowers on that evening, they parted.
In a short time Lady Esmondet and Vaura were seen driving along the
fashionable parks and streets of Paris, and no carriage attracted more
attention than the one in which they were seated. They met many
friends and acquaintances among whom were Mr. and Mrs. Eustace
Wingfield.
"One does not often see them together," said Lady Esmondet. "Still, I
am sure, they suit each other better than most married people."
"What a queer world it is," remarked Vaura; "even _ma chere_ godmother
is rather cynical as regards the happiness of most married lives. What
is the reason of it all? Is it that man who, as Charles Reade says, is
'born to hunt something,' is no longer happy when the chase is over.
And woman, what of her? Is it that 'tis only the excitement of the
hunt we care for, that our heart has no part in the matter."
"You know the world, Vaura, and you know you are right--still you will
marry, and be happy; for your heart will go with your hand, and you
know your power to make the man you will love happy."
"Sympathy, soul-felt and earnest, is more than love which sometimes
changes, or passion and fancy which always evaporate," answered Vaura,
seriously; "but," she added, "who, among the butterflies of to-day,
cares for all this: A. marries B., because he can give her a title; B.
marries A., because she brings him money--it's all a debit and credit
system."
"Yes, Vaura, dear, Tennyson says truly, 'we men are a little breed.'"
But a warmer light deepens in Vaura's eyes as a vision of a handsome
face, wearing at times a weary look, flashes across her memory, and
she thinks some men are worth loving, and are not of the "little
breed."
"What a bold-looking woman; I wonder who she is," said Lady Esmondet.
"She's passed us several times; that was an aristocratic man beside
her, and quite a youth. She wears her rouge too extravagantly."
"She has yet to come to the knowledge that she's anybody," answered
Vaura, contemptously; "looks to me like greed and vice, and man is not
the worse animal of the two."
"Thanks, Miss Vernon," said the voice of Trevalyon, riding up beside
the carriages as he lifted his hat.
"Thanks, though it is rather a doubtful compliment, for I am all at
sea as to what animal you are so kind as to give us the preference
to."
"I don't know that I shall tell you, Captain Trevalyon, for you men
make it your boast, that we only are curious."
Here the same smart turn-out, with its pair of beautiful bays come
again towards them, and to the surprise of Lady Esmondet and Vaura,
the woman smiled and nodded to Trevalyon. Vaura turning quickly
towards him, saw that he took no notice of the recognition and that
his face wore a stern look.
Everly driving with a friend, passed them at the moment, saw the nod
and smile and of how they were received. "That little smile from Ninon