A Heart-Song of To-day (Disturbed by Fire from the 'Unruly Member'): A Novel
which Mrs. Marchmont was drawn.
"Well, I don't know, Miranda sweet," she says, "that I can promise to
take you to St. Augustine service tomorrow afternoon. I am going to
high mass at St. Peter's, and shall be fatigued."
Vaura, who was standing near, listening to O'Gormon's adieux, and
anxious to do anything to hasten their leave-taking, said quickly:
"I shall likely go, and shall call at your hotel for Miss Marchmont."
Miss Marchmont was gushing in her thanks.
"Oh! don't forget, Miss Vernon, I wouldn't miss hearing Mr. Douglas
intone the service for worlds."
"The creature, not the creator," thought Vaura. But now at last the
guests have departed and the friends are alone.
Lionel sees them go from the garden walk which he is pacing up and
down, ready to go and waiting for the trap. He has gone out urged by
conflicting emotions, head aching, and in the air hoping to gain calm.
It is now 11.15; fifteen minutes yet. "If I could only see her alone."
Fortune favours him, for Lady Esmondet having heard from Saunders
(while Vaura is engaged with the Marchmonts) that Captain Trevalyon is
about somewhere, as he does not go until eleven thirty, taking in the
situation, tells Vaura to go to the _salons_ for a little while and
she will join her after she gives some directions to her maid.
So Vaura returns and, wishing to be quite alone before Lady Esmondet
joins her, steps into the conservatory, but there her sense of
loneliness is so complete, that she returns to the _salon_ immediately
adjoining, and drawing the heavy brocade curtains dividing it from the
others, she feels that she can give herself up to thoughts of Lionel;
she knows now that he is gone; she would give worlds to have him by
her side; she throws herself onto a lounge with her great white arms
in a favourite attitude thrown above her head. But in the moment of
her entrance into the conservatory, Lionel had seen her from the
garden and came in noiselessly to make sure; she is alone, and he is
now gazing at her through the glass door; her bosom heaves, her flower
face is lovely in its transparent soft paleness, and her eyelids are
wet with the tear-drops she will not let fall, her lips move and he
opens the door on its noiseless hinges, she says softly:
"Oh, darling, why did you go?" and she throws herself on her side and
buries her face in her arms. Now Lionel fearing to hear the wheels of
the trap to take him away, makes a noise with the door as if he had
only come, and so Vaura thinks as she starts to a sitting posture and
her heart beats wildly as she says, putting both hands to her side,
"Oh, you are not gone, I am so glad."
"But I am going, and in a few minutes, Vaura darling," and he seated
himself beside her; "you must know I love you with the whole pent-up
love of my life," and his arm was round her. "You know, darling, I
told you of a difficulty and I did not mean to speak until it was
removed, but my heart has ached and I am so unmanned I have not known
sometimes what to do or how to bear up; I have been in torture,
darling, lest other men should win your love. Oh! my love, my
beautiful darling, say you will not give your heart to another, that
you will wait until I can plead my cause."
"I shall wait, dear Lionel."
"God, is it so, darling, darling?" and the soft hand was pressed and
the lovely head was drawn to his breast and the rose-mouth was kissed
again and again.
"There, that will do, won't it, Lionel, for to-night; we have waited
so long," and the large grey eyes with their warm love-light, looked
into the tired blue of the eyes so near her own now with a great
passionate love looking from them.
"Darling love," and his cheek was on hers, "I feel so full of bliss
and content, and my nerves all throbbing, I don't think I can ever let
you go; oh, you don't know how I love you. I used to boast of my
strength with women beauty; but with you in my arms, heaven, what
bliss! Vaura, darling, I feel half delirious; and yet a full rich joy
in living and loving could not turn a man's brain."
And now the hall bell is pulled furiously; Vaura starts up and to her
feet.
"Put your soft arms around my neck, darling, and give me a good-bye
kiss; it will be a talisman from evil and help me through my lonely
travels."
And her arms are clasped tightly round his neck, and his head bends
down to the sweet lips.
"Good-bye, dearest Lion," and the eyes rest on his and she whispers,
"I am not sorry I came back alone to the _salons_."
"My love; how can I leave you."
"You must."
And Lady Esmondet calls and Lionel hurries to the ball, and with a
tight hand-clasp with his friend and a whispered, "I shall and most
conquer my enemies."
"You will, Lionel."
And Lady Esmondet knew by the light in his eyes that he had spoken and
she was glad.
Having promised Vaura to join her she now turned her steps towards the
_salons_, but thinking, "No, she will not want me to-night," retraced
her steps to her own room; and while her maid disrobed her, the lonely
woman thought: "What a perfect union theirs will be; both handsome,
gifted, and with much gold, for I shall settle L3,000 per annum on
Vaura. Sir Vincent will do something for dear Lionel. Ah, me; what I
have missed in my wedded life, I who could have loved a husband of my
own choice so fondly, so truly. Eric, Eric, you alone would have made
me happy; but I am growing old, I am looking back; it is folly. Alice
Esmondet, you must not give way to melancholy, life is sweet to you
even if you are not a winner of all good in life's game--. Give me a
few drops of red lavender, Somers; there, that will do; now leave me
and go to rest."
Vaura's whole being was filled with such intense happiness as she sank
into a corner of the sofa where Lionel had found her a short time
before that she would not move and so perhaps break the spell.
Emotional natures will know how she felt; as one does on waking from a
dream of the night, so rich, so full of sweetness, so full of
delicious languor one does not move a muscle lest the sensation pass.
At last she moves with a great sigh. "My darling, mine," she thought,
"and he loves me; come back to me, Lion," and the great fair arms were
clasped at the back of her head, then thrown down to the knees, and
the hands go together, while a smile, oh, how sweet and tender, comes
to the mouth, and the eyes are wet with their warmth and feeling.
"I'm glad you spoke before the 'difficulty,' is overcome, for if you
can never undo it you will know that I always loved you. Men who would
have satisfied most women have wooed me in vain. And now could any one
of them who have charged me with cruelty see me. Yes, dearest Lion, I
am every inch a woman and am subdued at last, and longing, longing,
dear heart, to feel your arms about me and see the light in your
mesmeric eyes. I have been waiting for you so long, love; come back to
me, for I cannot do without the sweet, grave smile, the look from the
tired eyes. Do you know, darling, as you are whirling away to northern
climes that I am dreaming the hours away thinking of you; it is one
o'clock, love, good night."
And Vaura, in all her loveliness, and full of a dreamy languor, went
to her chamber. Saunders heard the light step in the silent household
and followed her mistress.
"You must be sleepy, Saunders; put away my robe, lace, and jewels, and
go."
"I am not tired, Mademoiselle; I have just had a nap in the house-
keeper's room; you'd best let me run the comb through your hair,
Mademoiselle."
"Very well, Saunders, but be quick; I am tired."
"The household are sorry, Miss, that the Captain is away; we were
proud to have such a handsome master, and so free-handed; but it
wasn't for what the Captain gave; it was his own kind ways, and we'll
be wishing his servant back too, Mademoiselle; he was so merry. But
his master was so kind, Sims could but be happy."
"Even the hirelings love him," thought her mistress; aloud she says:
"I am quite sure Capt. Trevalyon was a kind master, Saunders, and
Sims was a faithful servant, and looked the essence of good humour.
Good-night, you can go now,"
"Good-night, ma'am; what time shall I call you for your bath, ma'am?"
"At half-past nine."
"Yes, ma'am."
And the white _robe de nuit_ is on, and this sweet woman glances at
the mirror, and smiles at the fair face with the bright brown curls on
the brow, the throat as fair as the soft robe of muslin, all a mystery
of embroidery and shapely clingingness.
CHAPTER XXXII.
TREVALYON GONE, VAURA KILLS TIME.
Christmas Day, the birth-day of Christ, dawned fair, beautiful, and
bright, and was ushered in by many a peal of sweet sounding bells.
The heavenly east was so gloriously bright as old Sol mounted upwards,
as to cause many a devout Roman (as he wended his steps to worship the
Creator, at the altar, in one or other temple whose doors stood wide
open, admitting a gleam of sunlight onto the figure of the sleeping
babe, and the adoring faces of the worshippers, to cause him) to
imagine as he gazed upward, that the heavenly Host caused all this
flood of light in the warm, glorious east, by their smiles of approval
at man's attempt to adore.
Vaura woke from a late sleep as Saunders tapped at the door; slumber
had only come to her by sweet snatches during the hours of the night;
but she lay happy in the dreamy quiet; and the face of the man she
loved was ever before her. On waking, as her maid knocked, her first
feeling was that something was wanting; that something had gone out of
her daily life, and she gave a long deep sigh. Then the sweet sense,
that she was loved, came to her; not that the knowledge of this man's
love was just come to her--she had known it for some time, but they
had both reached that stage when mutual pledges of love were craved
for, and which to fill their whole being with the fulness of content,
with the fulness of a satisfied bliss, had become a necessity.
The first thing that met her eye on rising, were a few crushed flowers
on the seat of her favourite chair. Tied around the stalks was a
delicate point-lace handkerchief; on the tiny square of muslin was
written, in the handwriting she knew so well, Vaura Vernon; among the
blossoms were a few written words:
"My heart aches at leaving you without a word of farewell My brain is
in a whirl. I feel as though I shall go mad if you give your love to
another; save me by writing me. Writing! how cold. God help me!--Your
LIONEL."
Capt. Trevalyon, not thinking to see Vaura, had, before going into the
garden, gone to her boudoir, and placed this mute farewell on her
chair.
"Now my darling knows," she thought as she pressed them to her lips.
There were warm Christmas greetings exchanged between the two women
friends, on meeting in the breakfast room. When the servants were
released from duty, duty, Lady Esmondet said:
"Dear Lionel has left us something to remember him, at least for
to-day, Vaura, _ma chere_, see here," and she held up two vinaigrettes
she had been admiring; on the cover to the stopper of one was the name
"Alice Esmondet," on the other, "Vaura Vernon." Both bottles were
small and both gold; on one side of Vaura's were the words, "I am
weary waiting, L. T.," in very small letters, while a tiny wreath of
forget-me-nots encircled the words; blue stones, inlaid, formed the
flowers; round each was a slip of paper--with the words: "With love
and Christmas wishes, from Lionel Trevalyon. For the crush at St.
Peter's."
"Kind and thoughtful, for we shall feel his gift refreshing in the
crowd," said Lady Esmondet.
"Poor dear, far away; we shall miss him on this bright Christmas
morn," said Vaura, as she read the words, "I am weary waiting."