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

married and out of the school-room, to her adored, she, Silverthorne, vowed revenge, if ever in her power, so that, when two seasons ago, Mr. Wingfield bet May a box, during _la_ Bernhardt _saison_, against an embroidered dressing gown that she would be black-balled at Eve's, on Mrs. Clayton proposing her, the president, looking black, declared, on its being put to the vote on the following afternoon, she should have her two black balls, Mrs. Clayton informed May. "Now, what shall, be my card," exclaimed May, "for my bet shall be won. I have it," and staining her face yellow with green glasses and unbecoming attire, she attended a woman's right meeting at which her enemy was chairman. Seated immediately in front of the platform, Miss Silverthorne gloated over her changed looks. She was made a member. Her enemy saying to Mrs. Clayton, "How hideous she has become; how he will hate her!" "What a green-eyed monster is jealousy," said Reverend Robert. "But our gay friend won her bet and a stare at the Bernhardt, in spite of everything," laughed Trevalyon. "But I fancy gay Mrs. Wingfield would not often be found at 'Eves;' such an army of plain women would be too many for her," said reverend Douglas. "Oh! no," said Vaura, taking his arm back to the sunlit morning-room, "she only goes occasionally to throw a white ball for a pretty woman." "I have sometimes come across her with Wingfield at the 'Abermarle'; she likes a little bass mixed with the treble of her life," said Trevalyon. "She is right," said Vaura, "one would grow weary of continually piping to the same key." "Isabel tells me they are very gay at Haughton," said Reverend Robert. "Incessant revelry seems to be a necessity in the life of Madame," said Lady Esmondet. "Tastes differ, god-mother dear, the wild game of life that suits her palate would suit ours as badly, as (what she would consider) our tame game would suit her," saying which she joined Lionel, a little apart at a table strewn with music which he wished her to select from. "Do you believe in presentiments _cara mia_?" "Yes; but I am wondrously content and don't want eyen to think of presentiments." "I don't either, _ma chere_," he said, a little sadly, leaning his elbows on the table, his head for a moment upon them, "but I have one now that the Fates are putting black threads on their distaff for me." "Don't look so sorrowful or you will affect me." "Did you and I live in Pagan times, _ma belle_, I should be tempted to offer incense at their shrine, so pleasing, that their black threads would give place to gold and silver." "Your incense would be flattery; they are but women, what would they more," she said smilingly. "There are women, and woman," he said absently, the grave look still in the eyes resting on her face. "There is something more than usual troubling you; share it with me, do, and then you know you will only have half to bear," and for one moment her soft hand is on his arm, her eyes full of sympathy on his face. "It is only a presentiment, _ma belle_," and his hand is laid on hers. But now there is a tap at the door, and his servant says: "Telegram from England, sir." "My presentiment," he says, in same low tone. "Face it bravely, it is not, I trust, bad news." "It is," he says gravely, "for I must leave you." Vaura turned pale, and Lady Esmondet said: "No bad news I hope, Lionel?" "Yes, dear friend, it is from Judith, and states that "Uncle Vincent is no better and wishes to see me," but she does not say at once, or if there be any danger." "I am sorry, Sir Vincent is no better, but every cloud has its silver lining; you may not really be obliged to go; he may rally," she said kindly. "Yes, that is true, I shall telegraph my cousin to know if I must go at once; if not, you will be leaving Italy so soon we may yet journey together." "I hope so," continued Lady Esmondet. "But 'tis hard for her," said Vaura, "a stranger in a strange land; can I do anything for her, write some of our friends to call upon her, anything, only tell me, the Claytons, are kind," and she is beside him in a moment. "You are very thoughtful, but Judith is extremely self-reliant." "Do not give way to depression, Trevalyon," said Reverend Douglas; "our paths cannot all be those of pleasantness." "Don't go, Robert, I want you to dine with us at seven; only the Marchmonts." "Thank you, Lady Esmondet, I shall be with you, but for the present, _au revoir_ as I have even-song." "I am grieved at this," said Lionel sadly, "for something tells me I shall have to go; I have known very little of Uncle Vincent; you are aware, dear Lady Alice, that he and my poor father were not friendly; my cousin is independent; and as I said before self-reliant to the last degree." "It will not be so hard for her in that case," said Lady Esmondet. "I am selfish enough to regret we have anyone to dinner, if I am obliged to leave you on to-morrow." "I was just thinking so," said Lady Esmondet, "our evenings together have been perfect, but alas for changes; and Vaura, dear, the landau is at the door, you know we arranged for a drive." "Yes, I remember, but let it wait." "We may not have another opportunity, Lionel, for private converse; you will write; and Vaura and I shall (D.V.) be at London on the 4th or 5th; and shall meet you again at Haughton Hall." "Yes, I shall meet you there," he answered thoughtfully; "my plans are not yet matured, but I want you to be _certain_ to telegraph me of your return; I shall meet you at London." "Fate is cruel to send you away, and at Christmas, but I am forgetting your poor uncle," said Vaura kindly. "I shall telegraph of our return without fail, Lionel; and now about yours to your cousin, had you not best run away and attend to it, we shall only take a short drive, and be here as soon as you." "Come with us," said Vaura, "it will save time." "So it will, and to kill the time I feel that is left to me with you, would be a Sacrilege." "What route do you take, Lionel?" enquired his friend. "You are aware I have a commission for Clayton, at Florence, so must first go thither, thence to Bologna, then to Turin, Paris, Calais, Dover and London." "Shall I ring for Somers, godmother dear, to bring your cloak and bonnet, while I go and don my wraps?" "Thank you, yes." Trevalyon, now going quickly to do his friend's side, said: "I have but a moment, but I want you to know that this mischief is brewing for me at the Hall, and it has rapidly fermented; 'society,' tasting of its bubbles." "I was sure of it, Lionel, and it is the brew of that woman and Major Delrose." "Yes; and their aim is so to damage my reputation that I cannot gain the woman, and the only one I have ever longed for as my own loved wife." "Heaven grant that there machiavelian manoevres may end in failure." Here the sweet face and small white plush bonnet, scarlet strings and feathers appear at the door, so a truce to confidentials. "I shall be so lonely if Fate takes me out of your life even for a short time," and Vaura's hand is tightly clasped as he assists her into the landau. "We shall be lonely also." "I hope so." "I must say our lives have been very complete at the villa," said Lady Esmondet; "our cup of content has been full." "To the brim;" and his eyes turn at last from Vaura's face as he says, "you had better drop me here, at the telegraph office while you turn into the Corso," and stepping from the landau, lifting his hat he was gone. "I wonder," said Vaura, "should poor Sir Vincent die, if Miss Trevalyon will return to New York." "I am sure of it; Lionel tells me his cousin dislikes English life as much as she likes that of her ain countree." Vaura fell into a reverie; after some moments, waking to herself, said: "I did not show you the interesting epistle I received from Mrs. Haughton, in which she says, 'society' hath it that Capt. Trevalyon rejoices in a 'hidden wife.'" "A pure invention got up to hurt him." "But why?" she asked with assumed carelessness. "Because he is not at a certain woman's feet, she has joined herself with black Delrose, his enemy of years, is my surmise, and I think the _denouement_ will prove me correct." "Poor dear uncle; his life is not an idyl." "His mistake, Vaura, _ma chere_, is a weight of care to me, that I try in vain to shake off;" and something very like a tear glistened as she spoke. The friends were unusually silent in the drive home. Arrived there they separated to dress for dinner; Vaura threw herself on her lounge to rest and think. "Poor, uncle Eric, what a woman he has put on the shackles of matrimony for; and now her attempt to injure our friend; poor Lion, my heart is full of pity for you and you do not know it, because you cannot speak until the "difficulty" is overcome; ah! me, what a world of lies it is, for that this 'hidden wife,' is a myth, and an inspiration from Lucifer to Madame, I am quite sure of. But alas! should their be one grain of truth in the bushel of lies, and that he cannot prove to 'society's' satisfaction that 'twas only a grain of youthful folly, that his manhood in its nobility had nothing to do with it. If he cannot do this, then he will never ask me to be anything more to him than what I shall always be, his friend; poor darling, what with his father's grief at his misguided mother's frailty, he has drank deep of the waters of bitterness; the unruly member set in motion by scandal, envy, hatred, or malice as motive power, is more to be dreaded as agent of evil, than dynamite in any form. But I must ring for Saunders and dress for dinner." CHAPTER XXXI. SOCIETY'S VOTARIES SMILE THOUGH THEY DIE. "Here are some roses, Mademoiselle; the Captain cut them before he went out and bid me keep them fresh for you." "Very well, Saunders, I shall wear them this evening; that is, the yellow ones; put the others in a vase, or give them to me, I shall, while you get out my ruby velvet; I am pale; it is high waist and no sleeves; take out my gold ornaments and bracelets--the plain gold bands; an old lace collar, with roses, shall be my neck-gear; hand me my vinagrette; I have a slight headache; and please comb my hair gently, it will be pleasant, yes; that will do." "Your hair is a fortune to you Mademoiselle, so long and thick." "Yes, it is, but I like it best because of its fluffiness; it is no trouble; weatherproof and waterproof. "So it is, Mademoiselle." "Now for my gown." "It fits beautiful, Mademoiselle." "Yes, I am quite satisfied with it." And well she may be, for the robe might have grown on the perfect form, every curve and roundness of figure being followed by the close clinging velvet; and the arms, bare to the shoulder, fit models for a sculptor, shone fair as the flesh of a child-blonde against the rich ruby of the velvet, The perfumed bath had refreshed her, and though a trifle pale, from heart emotion as to Lionel's probable leave-taking; her lips always wore a "pretty redness," her eyes had a tender look, while the fluffy bronze hair had its own beauty as it shaded the brow. "You are looking charming, _ma chere_," said Lady Esmondet, whom Vaura met in the hall. "Thank you, dear, your eyes are partial, I fear." "No, no, not as you imply." As they entered the drawing-room, Robert Douglas came from a comfortable corner where he had been studying a small work of Thomas a Kempis, which he quietly returned to his pocket saying smiling: "You see I am here to welcome you; I made myself at home and came here immediately at the close of even-song." "We feel complimented that you prefer our society to those very