A Heart-Song of To-day (Disturbed by Fire from the 'Unruly Member'): A Novel
"It would be then a Haughton's turn to leave _sans ceremonie_; make up
friends, Kate," and his face softened, and going over he led her,
though unwillingly, to a seat beside his own.
"What a bore a persistent lover with a long memory is," thought Kate.
"But I cannot afford to quarrel with him."
"You are not serious, Kate. You will never sever the tie that binds
us?"
And bold man, though he was, his voice trembled as leaning forward he
strove to read the inmost thoughts of the woman who has played with
his affections at will.
"You said you loved me once, Kate, but I fear your heart had no part
in the matter, my devotion amused you, my bold wooing was a novelty,
the soldier in me was a change after the King of Laundry?"
"How dare you name the source of my wealth and to me!" she said
haughtily.
"Because, my dear, I know your weak point; and even though I anger
you, anything to turn your thoughts to myself; you must admit, Kate,
that it is hard lines for me; marry me, dear, and I am your slave, my
love for you will never change; it is as fierce and passionate as
ever."
And leaning forward his hands on her knees, he strove in vain to
imprison hers.
"While mine has changed," she said coldly; "love would indeed be a
tyrant, could we not roam at will."
And a vision of mesmeric eyes with a smile, sweet as a woman's came to
her. At her words Delrose buried his face in her hands and groaned
heavily, as though his heart would break. Then looking up into her
face, he said in thick tones.
"Have you no pity for me?"
"None, you have crossed my path, you have clouded my sky."
Had she pity for him, fool that he was to ask. Has the owner of
the favourite at Goodwood pity for the jockey who swoons in a
death-sickness, causing the next to come in a head's length? Has the
eagle pity for the young mother's wail for her babe as he carried it
aloft to feed the young? No, she told herself she had spoiled him,
allowing him the _entree_ to her presence for the past seven or eight
years at will. She cared for him too for his bold, fierce, passionate
nature, that is--in a way, if only he would not insist on monopoly,
but she would be willing to barter one clasp of the hand, one look
from the eyes of gay, genial, handsome, fascinating Captain Trevalyon
for the total banishment of her bold wooer.
"I have crossed your path, clouded your sky, and is this all the
comfort you give me for years of devotion?" he said slowly, and in a
broken voice. "Crossed your path because my love lives, while yours
for me is dead; crossed your path, clouded your sky, because I am
constant and wish to have you for my wife; wish to keep you in my
arms. Lincoln Tompkins never knew; our world never knew; crossed your
path? By the stars, Kate, I will not give you up!" And there is a
sudden fierceness in his tones, while his breath comes hard and fast.
"Crossed your path? 'tis Trevalyon who has again crossed mine. Gad!
how I hate him." And he set his teeth. "To think, too, that with your
high spirit, you should plead to him for his love."
"George Delrose, dare to repeat one word of a conversation you played
the sneak to listen to, and you shall come to grief."
And she started to her feet, receding several paces from him in rage
and mortification.
"Kate, dear, forgive me," and he is beside her; and strong man that he
is, he holds her by force in his arms until she is still.
"It is my love for you that maddens me. My queen, my beauty, come back
to me. Give your thoughts to me--you must, you shall."
"What shall I do with him?" she thought. "I love the other man, but if
I cannot win him, I shall gratify my ambition by marrying Haughton
Hall, and in petting my idol gratify myself; and so to pet my old love
until it's all over."
And now puss begins to purr.
"There, George dear, I give in; you leave no room for other fetters
than your arms. Let me go."
"Yes, my beauty, in a minute. You have been so cold to me of late, I
am famished. You will only marry me, Kate, only me. Say yes, dear;
Haughton would never suit you. But I cannot speak calmly of him or of
any other man in connection with yourself."
And he grew again fearfully excited.
"As for that fellow, Trevalyon, the club gossips have it that for
years he has had a hidden wife, and, depend upon it, it's true, these
curled darlings generally do that sort of trick."
"Stop; I may turn this to my future advantage," thought Kate, quickly;
"let me go, George, and you may sit beside me. There, that is better.
I wonder if this story is true; I remember you told it me at New York
as false; but I dare say at that time, not being jealous of him, you
were, after the manner of men, letting him down easily. Yes, we shall
take it for granted it is true. He is handsome enough to have got into
some matrimonial scrape ere now."
"I am regaining my old influence over her," thought simple Simon.
"Listen, George, a minute longer; you have seen this Miss Vernon,
Vaura Vernon, niece to Colonel Haughton. Describe her."
"Hang it, Kate! Leave the Haughton connection alone," he said,
jealously. "Talk about ourselves."
"I am just starving for a kind word."
"Which you won't get till I please. What makes you here? Just think of
that, and then say would any other woman be as kind. Now run over the
Vernon charms, if any."
"When she will, she will," he said sulkily. "I have only seen her in
the 'row' and that once, she was ahead of me so I did not see her
face, but she sat her horse well and her figure is perfect. I
overheard Wingfield at the 'Russell' club rooms, telling Chaucer of
the Guards (who is wild to meet her) that there is nothing to compare
with her in the kingdom, that she is a perfect goddess. Now are you
satisfied.
"Yes, yes; let me think a minute."
"Just the woman to attract; I must get her out of my path and separate
her from my haughty handsome idol, my king, my love," she thought
slowly, her black eyes wearing an intent look, her large lips tightly
compressed. Her companion did not break upon her reverie, he sat
quiet, studying her profile as he had often done before; there was a
certain witchery in the hour, the lateness, the stillness, the roseate
lights above them, then what we have all felt, the sweet bliss of
sitting in enforced quiet beside a loved one; our brain is quiet, our
hands idle; we dread to break the spell, we then as at no other time
literally live in the present.
Delrose scarcely moved a muscle; from shoulder to elbow the red velvet
of her gown mingled with his black coat sleeve. For some time she had
seemed to be drifting away from him, and their present _tete-a-tete_,
though compulsory on her part, was to him paradise. During the season
when the London world knew no monarch, save the king of revels. She
had laughed at his prayers for a quiet half hour, tossing him instead,
as she did to her parrot, now a few careless words, now a sugar plum.
At present the season is waning, and a great dread has taken
possession of him, lest she should slip away from him altogether, for
Dame Rumour has given the widow of the American millionaire in
marriage to more than one. The demon of unrest hath gat hold on him
and every night ere going to one or other of the many distractions
open to him, he paces the square opposite her windows to see who is
admitted. More than once Col. Haughton and the man he most fears,
Trevalyon, have alighted from the handsome dog-cart of the latter;
to-night as we know, he, with the madness of jealousy upon him, on
seeing his hated rival enter at eleven p.m., bribes a servant to admit
him one hour later. Eve had not confided in him that Trevalyon had
come only on a written invitation from herself couched in such terms
as he could not refuse. And the woman beside him thought silently,
seemingly oblivious of his presence. "I fear I have no chance with
him; he is pre-occupied with her; a man always is until he tires of
one. I must marry the Colonel. Household gods are permitted in
Christendom; he is my god and shall be then as now my idol."
And with a little laugh and a sigh she turned her face quickly,
brushing his beard (he was so near), and had laid his hand on hers as
she sighed.
"My queen," he whispered eagerly, "of whom have you been thinking all
this time? Say of me, and not of him."
"You men all go in for monopoly, George dear, but who is the obnoxious
'he' this time?"
"Trevalyon, of course; did I not hear you--"
"Stop! or we shall quarrel; if you must know, my thoughts were of you;
and I thought you were not such a bad fellow after all as Trevalyon;
it would be a terrible thing, George dear, did he inveigle Miss
Vernon, for whom he seems inclined, into a marriage with him."
"What the deuce need you care? She is nothing to you. Ah! I begin to
see," he continued thoughtfully; "you would not regret had he a taste
of the Tantalus punishment."
"I have some conscience left," she said merrily, "which is paying you
an indirect compliment, and if you wish to please me you will revive
this old scandal, so as to prevent this naughty fellow posing as
bigamist; and now promise me and tell me good-night."
"And you forgive me everything and restore me to favour, my queen,
while I swear he shall never marry Miss Vernon nor any other woman he
covets."
"Yes, you may come to me for your reward, if you effectually prevent
Miss Vernon posing as his wife. I shall be sweeter than honey in the
honey-comb to you then. But till then, pleasant dreams."
"Before I leave, you must tell me when I may see you alone, for this
banishment is killing me."
"Killing you! indeed; all gammon; never saw a man look as though he
enjoyed his beef and beer better; no, go do my bidding, and in your
effort to keep out Mormonism you will punish your foe and I shall
reward you."
"But when, Kate, when; you don't tell me; may I come to-morrow?"
persisted her lover, eagerly.
"No, I am steeped to the lips in engagements."
"But I _must_, Kate; a soldier is accustomed to daily pay."
"Don't be persistent, George, or you shall be off duty forever."
"You know you have your foot on my neck, dear, and you take
advantage."
"Most men would not object to its shape or weight," she said saucily
drawing her robe, exposing a very pretty foot encased in cream hose,
and a black satin boot fitting as perfectly as any Madame Vestris ever
wore.
"I am conquered, my queen," he said softly; "only let me come, and in
your own time."
"Well put, and now be off; I'll write you, as the letter writer says,
at my earliest convenience."
"Good-night; may it come soon."
"Remember your mission."
"I shall revive it with a vengeance."
And bending down something very like a lovers' parting took place.
Passing into the hall he stepped noiselessly out into the night; the
closing of the door roused the sleeping footman, who, as he locked the
door and saw his mistress pass from her boudoir to her sleeping
apartments, thought sleepily as he put out the lights--
"Peter won't get the sack for letten' him in after all; my lady is
sweet on him, I'm thinking, and I'm not in for Pete's place."
CHAPTER II.
A RARE SOCIETY BOUQUET.
Come now and unroll with me one corner of the still, the silent past,
and I shall read you a few pictures in the old time life at Haughton
Hall, County Surrey, England.
This one, a twelvth night scene of 1854, will interest us: Scene is
one of the drawing-rooms at the fine old stately mansion of grey
stone, Elizabethan in its grandeur of tower and pinnacle, its spots of
decay lovingly draped by the hand of Dame Nature, ivy constant and
clinging as though its robes of green loved the old grey stone. The
south wing, built by a Haughton two hundred years ago (for his Spanish