A Heart-Song of To-day (Disturbed by Fire from the 'Unruly Member'): A Novel
ma'am, calling him by the early train to Richmondglen; but master will
meet you at the Colonel's place, ma'am, and return with your party to
London, ma'am."
"Very well; and here is a gold bit to drink to the health of your
girl."
"You are very good, ma'am."
And with a grin of satisfaction, he drank English beer to American
liberality.
On stepping to the door of the carriage, Capt. Trevalyon offered his
seat to his friend.
"Not so; we cannot spare you," cried Mrs. Tompkins. "I should have all
these ladies as cross as bears, Sir Peter _non est_ and you away; no,
the Colonel is gallant enough to leave you to us; he will have so much
of _some one_ a week from yesterday."
"No help for it, I suppose," said the victim, ruefully eyeing Everly
seated comfortably between the strawberries, the stranger having
vacated his seat for another coach. Everly was blind and deaf to the
Colonel's wish, taking his cue from his neighbour's, who had said in
an undertone:
"Don't stir, we are afraid of him, and you are so agreeable and nice."
And the guard locked the door, saying respectfully:
"No help for it, sir, I'll find you a seat."
CHAPTER VI.
LOVE AND LOVE-MAKING.
"This just too lovely; you are not going to weep over the exit of the
Colonel?" said Mrs. Tompkins rapturously.
And the sleeve of her jersey brushed Trevalyon's arm as she whispered
above, glancing sideways.
"Enforced exit, you mean; with so seductive a neighbour one cannot but
pity the absent."
But Mrs. Marchmont must be given an occupation, as she is immediately
her opposite neighbour; Trevalyon will then not feel it incumbent on
him to notice her, and will then be hers as though in a _tete-a-tete_;
and so with the imperiousness that newly-acquired wealth lends to some
natures, she says:
"Here, Fairy, is Agnes Fleming's latest; as I warn you I shall
monopolize Capt. Trevalyon until we reach the Hall of 'Haughton,' when
some one else will go in for monopoly of me."
"Yes, you poor dear thing, he will;" and she tittered; "but when the
cat is away mousey can play; consider me asleep over my novel."
The absurdity of her remark struck Trevalyon so forcibly that he could
not restrain a laugh.
"I don't believe you pity me one bit," said Mrs. Tompkins in a low
tone, looking into his eyes reproachfully.
"Not one bit."
"Even after what I have told you?"
"Even after that," he answered, in lowest of tones; for they are in
such close contact she can see what he would say as his lips frame the
words.
"You are the only man who has been cruel to me."
"How so?"
"Oh, because," and the eyelids droop, for the lashes are long and
black, though she would fain, look forever into the blue eyes above
her. "Oh, because it is simply a woman's reason; give me your own."
"You are cruel, because to whom much is given, of him is much
required."
"You flatter me; but let us look on the reverse side; I am a lonely
man, I may say without kith or kin; I am almost sworn against wedded
ties, but I love you all, have given much and require much."
And the easy _sang-froid_ habitual to him gave place to a sadness of
expression, a tired look, that ere now had made women weep. Mrs.
Tompkins, impulsive to a degree, would fain have ordered everyone from
the coach, taken his head to her breast, and bid him rest; a tremor is
in her voice as she asks:
"Why will you not marry?" And for one moment she is willing to cut her
heart out so he is happy; the next, ready to tear the heart from any
woman who could make him so.
He sees by her tones the effect he is producing; he must again don his
mask, and not excite her pity by reference to the sadness of his inner
life, caused by his dead father's griefs; he had been foolish, but he
had wished her in an indirect way to know that as no woman held his
whole heart neither could she; and so, almost in his old easy tones,
he says:
"Why not marry? I prefer you to frame some pretty imaginings to bore
you on our pleasure jaunt with my own; and here we are at our English
Frascati, Richmond the enchanting. Have you ever sunned yourself in
Italy, fair madame?"
"No, nor should I care to; the Italian is too lazy, too dreamy for
me."
"Then you cannot enter into the spirit of Thompson's 'Castle of
Indolence?'"
"There is no spirit in it; no, I had rather sell peanuts at a Broadway
corner, roast chestnuts on a Parisian boulevard, or flowers in Regent
Street, than wade through one stanza of his sleepy poems."
Trevalyon laughed, saying:
"How full of active life and vim you are; now, I, at times, could
write of dreamy idleness _con amore_. Do you never weary of our
incessant hunt after some new sensation?"
"Never! 'tis the very main-spring of my existence, 'tis what I live
for."
"How will you manage to kill time at 'Haughton' Hall out of the
season?"
"You will be there," and the black eyes meet his unflinchingly. "And
if not I am a great wanderer."
"Some distraction shall dull my senses till you come."
"But, you poor little fire-eater, supposing your liking for me to be
real," and no ear but hers heard his whispered words "with my
knowledge of Haughton's noble nature, I should curse myself did I
cause him one jealous pang."
She pressed close to him as she breathed tenderly--
"Trust me my idol he shall never dream of my idolatry."
And the passionate face is transfigured in a tenderness new to it, for
her passion has grown doubly strong in this drive from London, and she
hugs to herself the thought that her love will beget his, all shame
for its avowal is foreign to her breast, reckless and impulsive, her
wish is her will.
"Your heart is as loving and untamed as Eve's, you must not tempt me
to forget that he is my friend."
"I _must_." And the jewelled fingers (for her gloves are off) cling to
his as he assists her to alight, for Richmond passed they are at the
village of 'Haughton,' and the guard has called--
"Ladies and gentlemen for the Hall please alight."
A covered carriage and dog-cart are down in answer to the telegram of
Colonel Haughton who has already alighted and meets his guests as they
emerge from the carriage.
"Here we are again," says small Sir Tilton Everly, "Such a jolly
drive, I am glad you invited me, Colonel Haughton; never was past
Richmond proper before."
"No?" said the Colonel carelessly, and, stepping quickly to Mrs.
Tompkins, says, "It has been dreary banishment to me; allow me."
"You look like a man who has missed his dinner; or, as John Bull,
outwitted by brother Jonathan," said his bride elect with a latent
meaning as laughing heartily she takes his arm to the carriage.
"Or had a John Bright man step in before him at the election."
"Confound his impudence," thought Colonel Haughton, saying, "I am not,
a Mark Tapley."
"Any man with a spice of gallantry" said Trevalyon coming to his
friend's aid, "would feel as if Siberian banishment had been his
portion, had he been separated from so fair a group of ladies."
Are the men doing anything to 'Rose Cottage' Trimmer," enquired his
master of a shrewd looking man in brown and buff livery.
"Yes, sir, it's in good order now."
"This lady is my new tenant, anything you can do Trimmer to meet her
requirements will oblige me."
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you Colonel Haughton, you are very kind," said Mrs. Marchmont.
"Don't mention it, anything I can do will give me pleasure."
"It is a sweet spot; my darling child, Miranda, is a naturalist and
will collect many insects."
"From the Hall?" said Blanche with her innocent air.
"No, no, dear, from the grounds."
"Drive on, Trimmer, I shall take the dog-cart."
"Yes, sir."
"What a sweet spot and how quaint the shops look," said Mrs. Marchmont
as they were rapidly driven through the village.
"Not quaint, but vacant" laughed Mrs. Tompkins, "the whole thing has a
vacant air about it, the inhabitant looks as though he was born
yesterday and wondering what day it was; I'd rather see a yankee
whittling a stick with his saucy independent air; hat on the back of
his head so he can see what is going on, than any one of 'em."
"I could buy out the whole lot myself," said Blanche jeeringly, with
her small head turning as if on a pivot.
"What a delightful feeling," said Mrs. Meltonbury, admiringly, "Yes
it's just too lovely. If my poppa was here he'd throw no end of dimes
and pea-nuts among 'em; always had pea-nuts in his pockets; how they
stare, it's just too funny for anything."
"How wealthy he must have been, I just adore money!" said the
Meltonbury.
"I believe you," answered Blanche laconically.
"Pity you have that husband out in Ontario, Melty," said Mrs.
Tompkins, "or I should soon find you another millionaire, you ought to
get a divorce, plea; he is Canadian Government _attache_ not your
_attache_."
"What a dear thing you are; it would be too sweet."
"Which, the millionaire or the divorce," at which there was a peal of
laughter.
"I am afraid sister referred to the man," sighed Mrs. Marchmont, "but
how sad for poor dear Meltonbury."
"He'd survive it," said Blanche sententiously.
"As I live there is Lord Rivers and a man worth stopping for. Halt,
coachman," cried Mrs. Tompkins eagerly.
And they stopped in front of the D'Israeli Arms where a group of
gentlemen were watering their horses.
"Ah! how do Mrs. Tompkins," said Lord Rivers lazily wheeling his
handsome bay and lifting his hat to the group.
"Whither bound?"
"For 'Haughton' Hall, you are coming I hope, now don't say no for I
shall not listen if you do."
"Too bad, but I am due at Epsom, a little trotting race is on, and if
not the lord of Haughton, whom I met up the road, did not give me an
invitation."
"But I do," said Madame with emphasis.
"He is a lucky fellow," he said slowly and taking in the situation.
"So I think," she said laughing, and remembering she had Trevalyon for
to-day continued hastily, "we open the Hall for no end of revels at
Christmas, I must have you then."
"I shall slumber and dream of you until that time," and with a long
side glance from his sleepy eyes the Epicurean peer put spurs to his
horse to overtake his friends.
"Drive on, coachman."
"What deep eyes Lord Rivers has; he quite looks one through. What a
pity such a sweet man should have such an ugly, disagreeable wife, I
never thought she would be even a possible choice for any man," said
the Marchmont.
"Better for us, it makes him sigh for the impossible," said Mrs.
Tompkins.
"And 'tis such a sweet mission for a woman, that of consoler," sighed
the Marchmont.
"To a man," said Blanche with her innocent air.
"Of course to a man; a woman would suspect a latent pity for which she
would reward you with her claws," said Mrs. Tompkins.
"Sweet consoler, I shall send to Pittsburg for a cast-iron heart and
buy out some druggist's court plaster," said Blanche. "You shall
console a husband next season, I am determined in this."
"Indeed! who have you got me ticketed for?" and the pink eyes turned
towards her step-mother.
"Little Sir Tilton would be just her height, dear Mrs. Tompkins," and
Mrs. Meltonbury clasped her hands in ecstasy.
"Mrs. Tompkins will tell you how I love him," said Blanche
disapprovingly.
"Yes Melty, Blanche cannot endure him and besides he is my little
beau," said Madame with an air of proprietorship.
But the Hall of the Haughtons is reached, and the carriage rolls
through the wide open gates. At the pretty lodge door stands the
keeper and his wife, he pulls off his cap while she curtsies low,
their future mistress tosses them a gold bit at which more curtsy and
bow. What a magnificent avenue through the great park, the oak and elm
mingling their branches and interlacing their arms overhead, through