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

Lionel Trevalyon will pardon me for saying he was wrong in wearing the mantle of dishonour for another; the lining, a good motive, was unseen by the jealous eye of society, hence, when the lash was put into her hands by revenge or envy, her motive power, it, the lash, went down; Sir Lionel Trevalyon has had his punishment. With unwearied exertion he has found Sister Magdalene through Paris, at London, and she has spoken the truth, and Major Delrose knows it. Moreover, and in connection with his name, we have examined papers, letters to Sister Magdalene, previous to and after her elopement, thus proving her words. Again, I may say here, for I have grave doubts of his having done so, six months ago I received from Father O'Brien, of New York city, same mail as he wrote Major Delrose, whose acquaintance he had made in that city in 1873, and believing by his words that he was an intimate friend of the house of Haughton, wrote him, as I say, of dying messages, and a few lines to a niece of Colonel Haughton, by name Vaura Vernon, and from Guy Cyril Travers." At this, Vaura started, turned pale and visibly trembled, putting her hand to her side, when half a dozen men started to their feet; but Lionel quietly put her arm within his and led her to a seat behind a large stand covered with rare orchids and beautiful ferns, where, did she not revive, the open doors of the conservatory lent a means of speedy retreat. "My own love, be brave; it was six months ago," he whispered, bending over her, and puzzled at her great emotion; "I know it, dear; and yet dead, poor, poor Guy: I have been always unpitying towards him. But did he say he was dead! let me hear; he will tell more; but in this crowd!" And she leaned forward, her large eyes glistening, the rose mouth quivering. Lady Esmondet silently joined her, as did her uncle, who, ever and anon shot fiery glances of contempt at Delrose, who, with bold recklessness, still leaned forward on his folded arms, between Madame and Lord Rivers. But the priest, instead of continuing aloud, came to Vaura's side, saying quickly and in low tones: "Pardon; this is; yes, I see it is society's rarest flower--Miss Vernon; you have been hidden from me by those who would sun themselves in your smiles; else had I seen you, whom I know from the London shop-windows: should have told you quietly of Father O'Brien's letter, as I see by your emotion, black Delrose has been faithless to his trust." "He has; tell me of poor Guy; did you say he is dead?" she asked, in broken accents, her eyes full; "tell me quickly; now, here; I can bear it." "It was only a scrawl; he was dying, and signed your--your husband; he had been stricken down by fever; your name was ever on his lips; he said you loved Paris, and he would be buried there; he had loved you all his life; he was glad to go; you were not to shed one tear for him, but to make some one blest by your love; your miniature was to be buried with him; he is in paradise; you must not weep for him, and so cause others to weep for you." "I shall not forget to remember your kindness," she said, giving her hand, the tears welling her eyes; "Sir Lionel Trevalyon will perhaps bring me out to your monastery." "I thank you, and for our Order," and moving away to his former position, he continued: "I have now finished my task, self-imposed and in the ends of justice; Sir Lionel Trevalyon is free to go to God's altar with the proudest and fairest woman in the world; and may the blessing of heaven rest upon his union. Had he not exposed the facts, he could not have wed, while your lips framed the word--bigamist!" Here the boy started violently, put up his hands to his face, tearing off the mask, and rubbing his eyes. "Where am I, Father Lefroy? you're not on the square; you said I was going to see my mother; come, own up; what did you say I was coming where every one wore masks for?" and he stamped on the one he had torn off (and which they thought it best he should wear, so that at a certain point, if necessary, his strong resemblance to his father should be suddenly revealed). "So they do wear masks, my son, though you do not see them." "I am not your son; this is my father," he said with emphasis and pride, drawing from his pocket a miniature of Delrose; "we're square now; you hid this from me, but I found it out; you cannot put me on bread and water, for I've good as cut and run." "George, dear, be a good boy; I am your mother," said the poor nun, tearfully. "You! well, it is your voice; but why didn't you speak to a fellow in the coach, and lift up that nasty black veil; here, I will." And before she could stop him, he had mounted the chair and torn the whole head-gear off, exposing the face of one-time Mrs. Clarmont. "'Tis she! 'tis she!" echoed many voices;--girls, now matrons, remembered the pretty little thing in their first season as Mrs. Clarmont; _chaperons_ and men, who had and hadn't flirted with her, remembered her as Fanny Ponton. "Let me go to her," said Vaura, gently; "what is my grief to hers?" "Ah, poor thing, what a sad fate has yours been; do not hide your face again from your poor little boy and us; dear me, what a weight it is; one would almost smother beneath its folds." "Oh, I must veil," cried the poor thing. "No; leave it off, daughter; it is my wish society shall see in you Trevalyon's 'hidden wife;' all have heard your words; mine and this lad's," said the priest, sternly. Nearly every inmate of the long rooms had eagerly and excitedly pushed and crowded, squeezed and crushed as near as possible to the principal actors in the scenes they had witnessed, making very conspicuous the attitude taken by the group in and about the curtained recess; namely, the scarlet-robed hostess; Lord Rivers, pleasantly placed, and too lazy and epicurean to move; Delrose, in the blackness of alternate rage, hate and defiance, longing to cut the scene, but unwilling to leave the field to Lord Rivers, and those he termed his foes; Kate, afraid to stir, for he had said between his teeth, "You won't go near them." Tedril, with the huntress, stood beside them; while small Everly, accustomed to the _role_ and remembering the mutual promise of Blanche and himself, sat at the feet of Madame, alternating fanning or saying something pretty to her, nerved to his task by the fact that Tisdale Follard, who had just bought his M.P., had told him "he must and would have his money at dawn." But the boy with eager eyes is pushing his way through the crowds and down to the sofa of Madame; all gazing after him; but nothing abashed, he elbows his way (a bold fearless boy, a very Delrose, with nothing of his mother in him); now with an intent stare at his father, then a long look at the miniature, said with a great sigh and slowly: "No; I suppose you're not my _pater_; when I find him he won't scowl at a fellow," with a loving glance at the likeness, which was of Delrose in full-dress uniform, smiling and handsome, taken with his thoughts full of his triumphant _affaire de coeur_ with Mrs. Clarmont. "I am no mean sneak, sir; so I'll show you the likeness of my father to excuse my staring at you like a cad;" and he handed it to Delrose who did not take it, Kate doing so, but he had recognised the case on the boy taking it from his breast. "Thanks, no;" he said, with affected bravado, for society eyed him; "the young monkey plays his part well; if the thing even is of me, light fingers at times lighten one's belongings." "It is of you, dear Georgie," said Kate, recklessly; "your family is increasing." "If you say so, it must be so," he said, his bold black eyes meeting hers. Mrs. Haughton now handed the miniature back to the boy, who, after returning it carefully to his pocket, said proudly, and looking fixedly at his father: "If you were a boy, I'd give you one right out from the shoulder for what you've said of me;" and turning on his heel, he was making his way for the head of the room, when Madame, obeying impulse, called out laughingly: "How have your owners called you my little man?" "George Delrose Ponton is my name, Madame;" and with one hand to his breast, where the miniature lay, he again pushed his way through the groups of revellers. "A speech from the throne could not have been given with more dignity than the poor fatherless little fellow gives his name," said Vaura, pityingly. "My dear mother has fainted, sir;" the boy said, ignoring priest and women, and instinctively choosing the face full of strength and sweetness, the face men and children trusted and women loved--that of Lionel Trevalyon. "Poor boy, poor thing, so she has while our attention has been diverted." The meeting of father and son had been more than she could bear, and at the answer of Delrose to their child, she had fallen back in her chair in a dead faint. "Poor creature, no wonder she gave way, I must get her out of this crowd." "Bring her to my boudoir, Sir Lionel; touch that bell, Sir Tilton, please," cried Mrs. Haughton, thinking exultantly, "now is my opportunity to have him to myself, I shall open the ball with Lord Rivers at once, and then--" Mason appearing "lead the way to my boudoir and attend to this lady who has fainted." "When she revives she will like some one besides a strange maid with her," said Colonel Haughton, as Lionel picked, the nun up in his strong arms; "you had better go too, Vaura dear." Trevalyon looked his approval saying "come." "Yes, you come, too," and the boy's hand slipped into hers. And so Vaura, her trailing skirts of cream satin, front width richly embroidered in gold floss, with the perfume of tea roses from her corsage and bouquet she carried, in all the fulness of her rich beauty, with proud head bent as she chatted with the dark-eyed, black-haired boy beside her, followed Trevalyon with his burden and the priest who walked at his side. CHAPTER XLII. ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE. "Outwitted this time," mused Madame, greatly mortified at seeing Vaura retire with the group, "but I must make one more appeal to him alone," and tapping Lord Rivers on the arm with her fan, said gaily, "To the halls of Comus; we want a change of scene, black is a trying colour." At this moment Blanche, her hand on Everly's arm, entered from the dining-room, whither with cunning forethought she had told him just five minutes previously she wished to go, with "I feel played out after all this sensation, we had best go for something exhilirating," thinking, as she returned "he'll stand it better now, and I'm not one moment too soon," leading her unsuspecting escort up to Madame, who stood leaning on the arm of Lord Rivers, her husband near welcoming late arrivals; and the air was sweet with perfume, and laden with the ceaseless murmur and everlasting whir-whir with the music of the laughter of the beautiful, the noble, and the fair, and as they follow, and crowd around Madame, their goal, the ball-room, some condole with others on their later _entree_, saying, "Oh, darling! what! you have missed such a sensation!" or "Oh! you should have been here earlier, Lady Eldred, our pet of pets, Sir Lionel Trevalyon, is free;" or "a nun nobodys child, and no end of fun, Stuart," again, "no end of a time, Delrose has posed as Lucifer, Trevalyon, as all the angels." "Vaura Vernon is here, I am among her slain; she's a nymph, a goddess and a woman; she's the only one for me," said Chancer, feelingly. "All the others are frocks and frizzes," laughed his friend, who had never seen her. "Listen, Chancer, what's the go now? that little girl with all the tin, red eyes, pads and bustles, is getting up a row of some sort; let's get in."