A Heart-Song of To-day (Disturbed by Fire from the 'Unruly Member'): A Novel
But Vaura, ever connected in the mind of Mrs. Haughton with Trevalyon,
and the wish never dying in her breast to have him at her feet, hence
her question, which she would much prefer not to have asked in the
presence of Delrose, but, accustomed to obey impulse, she said:
"And Captain Trevalyon, Miss Vernon, what of him? Will he come for the
ball, or has he gone to visit his hidden wife of _Truth_ and the
_News_; sly fellow that he is?"
Her tone was too eager to please Delrose. "Confound the fellow, I must
lose no time," he thought, savagely, as Vaura replied, laconically:
"Sir Lionel Trevalyon will be here for the ball."
"Trevalyon to be here to-night! You never told me, Vaura."
"I have not had an opportunity, dear uncle," she said, taking his arm,
with a "We shall meet again at dinner" to madame; as they left the
room she continued: "He bid me tell you, dear, that he comes after
dinner with three unbidden guests, and that he wishes that the Hall
guests may learn from their words of the ingredients of a dish of
scandal, so that they will tell it to the London world!"
"It is of his hidden wife, I presume. Yes, of her ingredients he can
now tell; she _is his wife_. Of the woman previous to the altar knot
man knows naught. _She is masked!"_
"Society is a fencing school, dear uncle; we all have our masks and
foils."
"Not all, Vaura; we all pay society's tolls, for we live to enter the
arena, but we are not all masked."
"You will be glad to see your old friend again, uncle?" she said
questioningly, anxious to know how the man she loved would be
welcomed.
"Yes and no, dear; his hand-clasp will strengthen, me but not you.
Trevalyon's hand enclosing woman's is weakening to them, and he has
been much with you; were it not for this scandal--."
"Which by mid-night," she said quickly, "the nightbirds will have, by
the flutter of their wings, blown into the right current, and from
poor Lionel."
"So, so, Vaura, you speak warmly; it is as I feared; he has made you
care for him."
"He has."
"I am sorry for you, Vaura, and glad for him; peerless, as you, are, a
man should woo you with spotless breastplate; but I love Trevalyon,
and if he can in any way clear himself, but I fear he cannot," he said
gravely.
"'All's well that ends well,' dear uncle; he _will_ clear himself."
"After dinner, you say?"
"Yes, but no preparations; he wishes to come in with the three
unbidden guests unnoticed."
"Yes, but if he or they, I suppose, are to come with 'mouth full of
news,' to tell publicly, I think he is wrong not to let it be known,
otherwise they (some of them) may not appear until the ball opens."
"Let it be as he wishes, dear uncle; they are epicurean enough not to
fail your good board, even though ignorant of the highly seasoned
desert. But some one sneezed! we have a listener! yes," she continued
breathlessly, "my hearing is very acute, and see! something between a
man and woman, gliding softly down the dim corridor."
"Yes, we had better separate; go and rest, dear; we have, I fear, been
talking to the Hall through some one else, and I feel somewhat excited
over your news and shall smoke it off."
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
MADAME IN A FELINE MOOD.
A window in the library looked out upon the avenue, and a carriage
approaching could be distinctly seen. Vaura, in the long ago, had
frequently sat in this window, to watch the return of her uncle; aye,
and of the man whom she now loved better than life itself. She was
sure she could distinguish a conveyance from the village, and the
occupants devoid of the gay trappings of revelry, from the guests in
their comfortable carriages. Accordingly, as Madame had changed (for
to-night), the dinner hour to half-past nine, at nine o'clock, Vaura,
a soft beam of loveliness, with light foot-fall, entered the library
and took her station at the watch-tower above mentioned. She was
scarcely seated ere she was aware she was not the only occupant of
what she had felt sure would be a deserted room; she would have risen,
but her heart was there, and the words she heard chained her to the
spot; the voices were those of Mrs. Haughton and of Major Delrose.
"I will have my way, Kate!"
"You will, I know; but can't you wait?"
"What for? For you to have Trevalyon fooling round you. Gad, if he
comes near you, I'll shoot him."
"I am sorry I told you Melty followed them and heard."
"I'm not, for there's a devilish mystery about his coming; I wish
she'd heard more."
"But she didn't, dear George; and that he comes at all does not look
well for our plot, eh? She may yet get him, not I; and so you will
remember, sweet Georgie; if so you don't win the game."
"Kate, you madden me."
"You do seem a little that way; there, go away, you are crushing my
flowers. Heaven knows you ought to be satisfied, I have given you
enough."
"I shall have you _all to myself_."
This he said with such fierce emphasis as to cause Vaura to tremble;
not so Madame, for she loved this man for his boldness only (a tamer
nature would have palled upon her long ere this), but the feline
nature in her triumphed at times, and she tortured him.
"But, dear boy," she continued, "you have not carried out your
bargain, and so no reward."
"I know I promised to separate them, and so I have, and shall; you
don't see all my hand, my queen, there'll be the devil to pay when I
do. I got a letter from New York this summer I shall yet turn to our
advantage, even if I do stretch a point."
"Why did you not show this letter you speak of to me? Take your head
away, you don't care a fig that my flowers will wear a dissipated
recumbence; remember the dinner and ball."
"Hang the flowers, the dinner and everything; I want you."
"But suppose I like queening it among the English nobility a trifle
longer. You see Trevalyon is--"
"You rouse the devil in me, Kate; look you, I won't and can't stand
this any longer; name that man again to me in that fooling way and by
the stars I'll shoot him. You _belong to me_ as much as our--. But you
know you do. Heaven is my witness, Kate, if you don't end this humbug
I will, and in my own way."
"I sometimes think it would have been better had we never met; you are
so fierce and jealous."
"No you don't, for our love is the same, our natures the same. The
burning lava of my love suits you better than the, ah, dear me,
gentlemanly affection of the Colonel, or than Lincoln Tompkins'
innocent pride in you."
"How about the other men?" she said, teasingly.
"Leave them to me, I'll handle them should they cross my path. _You
shall_ come with me to-night, my plans are laid; you will never regret
it. You would soon tire of the child's play here, no excitement; after
the ball I away from Rose Cottage. Our life at New York and elsewhere
will be one long draught of champagne. You must come with me to-night,
or look you--" and he hissed the words between his teeth, "I'll make
you."
"My flowers again,--and the dinner bell; I'll tell you yea--perhaps,
by-and-by."
Vaura, with her hand on her heart to still its violent throbbing,
lingered until sure of their retreat. She now emerged from the recess
in which she had been completely hidden. The others having entered
from the end door had seated themselves in the first recess, there
being only the double row of book shelves between them. The whole
length of the room was in this way, shelves jutting out from either
side, and a dim, very dim light pervading.
"Oh, what shall I do? How can I appear with their voices in my ears,
their words stamped upon my memory," she murmured, "and yet I must,
for my poor darling comes after. I must try to forget their words or
my brain will be too full. What a scandal for our house. But to the
conventionalities," and with rapid steps she reached her apartments.
"Quick, Saunders, a wine glass of Cognac, I am not well. There, that
will do; how do I look?"
"Like a picture, Mademoiselle."
CHAPTER XXXIX
TREVALYON THROWS DOWN THE GLOVE.
The dinner on this Twelfth-night, fraught as it was with so much of
the effervescence of the champagne of life to so many, was a dinner
fit for an emperor. The gold plate, the glassware, each piece a gem.
Sweet flowers looked up from their delicate design in moss beside each
person, or from elegant vases. The hostess was recklessly gay and
_abandon_, looking like a scarlet poppy with dew upon it, robed as she
was in satin of scarlet, the whole front of the dress and corsage
being embroidered in poppies from pink to scarlet, their leaves of
pearls; her necklet, armlets, and earrings were diamonds, rubies
and pearls. A handsome woman, without doubt, loving life and its
_bon-bons_.
"We only make the run once," she would cry, "let us take it
effervescing."
Vaura is peerlessly beautiful and brilliant as her diamonds, her large
hazel eyes bright as stars, her lips a rose, throat, neck and arms
gleam in their whiteness as does the satin of her gown. Ah! Lionel,
much as we love you, we are happy in the thought that Vaura is your
rest. Colonel Haughton notices that his niece often glances at him,
and that beneath her gay repartee or brilliant converse, there
underlies some powerful excitement which he attributes wholly to the
_expose_ of the truth by Lionel.
"And so you enjoyed Rome," said Capt. Chancer to Vaura, who had been
assigned to him, so causing him to be the envy of the other men.
"Intensely! dear sun-warm, love-warm Italia."
"Yes, one loves to live and lives to love while there. I hope you did
not leave your heart behind you, Miss Vernon."
"Nay, you should congratulate me had I done so, and by your own words
of 'one lives to love while there.'"
"Yes, and on my warm heart; for, though old Sol laughs in gay Paris,
his temple is in warm Italia," she said, gaily.
"Your eyes tell whether your heart's warmth depends upon the zone you
dwell in."
"Are you wise in trusting in truth from woman's eyes?" she said
softly, and looking into his face.
"In some cases, yes; they are _en verite_ the language of the soul."
And his gaze plainly shows his admiration. "You sing, I am told?"
"A little; it could not be otherwise if one has lived so much in the
south as I; the voice of song seems the natural language for one's
varying emotions."
"You will sing me one song to-night?"
"Yes, if you care; instead of a waltz."
"I want both."
"And you look like a man who has his way most days."
"In trifles, yes; in things longed for, never!'"
"Well, if so; as the song and waltz are trifles to make your assertion
true, you must have them."
"I am in paradise, and shall try to forget that did you consider them
things of moment, you would never have granted them," he said,
earnestly laying down knife and fork as he turned to gaze wistfully
into the face of the fair woman near him at last.
"You have the nattering tongue and eyes of your sex, Capt. Chancer,
and you and the other men are to blame if I have promised more than I
can perform; for I have been unable to say nay to your pleadings,
being in a passive mood to-night."
And the eyelids with their wealth of curled lashes were uplifted, as
she smilingly looked into his face, for her thoughts were of Lionel;
his, of her.
"Of all women's moods, I love her best in the dreamy languor of
passiveness."
"To mould us as wax in your hands, to love us till you tire, as we do
a bird or a flower, and then sigh for another mood; you see I know you
in all your moods and tenses," she said softly.
"You know us till we meet you," he said earnestly, as a servant
refilled his champagne glass.
"Tis Greek meeting Greek" she said gaily, though her heart throbbed
wildly, for she alone heard a slight bustle in the hall and the voice
of the man she loved.