Vaura's heart throbbed quickly for she thought, "he has gone."
But the Marchmonts, much to her relief and Lady Esmondet, saying they must "really tear themselves away," a rather prolonged leave-taking took place between Reverend Robert Douglas and Miss Marchmont, into 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 thesalonsfor 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 thesalonimmediately 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 thesalons."
"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 thesalons, 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, andSims 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 whiterobe de nuitis 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.
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."
"But I am forgetting my gift to you, and one from dear Uncle Eric," and Vaura took from a small box a lovely locket, on one side was a miniature copy of Haughton; on the other the lovely face of the giver. "And this from Uncle for you came to me on yesterday;" and Vaura presented a photo of Col. Haughton.
"How sweet it is to be remembered, Vaura, and it's a good likeness ofyour dear uncle. And here is a gift from myself, a mere bagatelle, butI hope you will like it," and she handed Vaura an acknowledgement fromWorth of an order for a ball-dress, to be at Haughton Hall on the 5thJanuary, 1878.
"Thanks, god-mother mine, your thoughts are always of some one other than of Alice Esmondet."
"Not at all, dear."
"I shall be glad to return to England now," and there was a tender light in Vaura's eyes; "that is, dear god-mother, if you have laid up a sufficient store of strength."
"I have,ma chere, and if the revelry at Haughton isn't too much, I shall be able not only to stand, but enjoy the season; I feel very strong, and had I had a happy life—I mean, dear, had I married where my heart was—all would have been right; this 'eating out the heart alone' is not good for one. I have taken all the tricks I could, and made the most of the cards in my hand, but they have not been to my liking."
"My hand shall follow my heart," said Vaura, earnestly; "how I wish yours had, dear."
"Yes, it has been hard for me; but Fate, the dealer, is giving you good cards."
"How think you, godmother; is the game ours?"
"You will win."
"How did you know?" she said, softly, coming over to Lady Esmondet, and stooping to kiss her.
"By the great light in his eyes when he bade me adieu, and the heart-shine in your own; it has been the wish, of my life lately; God is giving you a paradise in life, dear."
"He is."
"This plot to damage Lionel's reputation is a something too mean," said Lady Esmondet indignantly; "in Mrs. Clayton's last letter to me she asks me to 'decline to receive him, unless he publicly acknowledges his hidden wife;' she says, though 'the women still will pet him, their husbands are down upon him;' she further says, 'Clayton says he has no right to run loose with a hidden wife somewhere;' she says it has been in two or three papers. I declare, Vaura, if it were not for the feeling I have that we shall be a comfort to your uncle, I do not care to go to Haughton."
"Poor Lionel," said Vaura, thoughtfully, "he has got himself into a wasp's nest. Suppose we don't stay at Haughton, excepting for the ball, then go quietly to your town house."
"Yes, dear, as we pass through London I shall give orders that my house be in readiness any day to receive us; so, dear, if after we stay for a short visit we find it a bore, we shall go up."
"And be voted Goths and Vandals for showing our faces before the season opens; and Mrs. Grundy says 'Come;' what slaves we are!" said Vaura.
Now there is a tap at the door, and a servant enters with contributions from the post.
"Any orders, your ladyship?"
"Yes, the landau is to be at the door to take us to St. Peter's in an hour; at the close of mass we shall drive to the Duchess of Wyesdale, with whom we lunch; further orders there. And here, Barnes," continued Lady Esmondet, taking out her purse, "distribute this gold to the household, excepting to Somers and Saunders, whom I shall attend to personally; and see that no poor go empty-handed from the villa on this, the Day of Days."
"Thank you, your ladyship, you are very kind, and we all wish you andMademoiselle a good Christmas."
"Thank you, Barnes."
"The man in bottle-green livery coming to the door," said Vaura, as she left the breakfast-table, "is servant to our friend of Erin."
In a few moments Saunders brought her mistress a beautiful bouquet, with the card of Sir Dennis, on which was written, "A merry Christmas to Miss Vernon."
"What think you of the Irishman?" asked Lady Esmondet.
"Oh, I hardly know; he is a great good-natured creature; if his heart be proportioned to the rest of his frame, the future Lady O'Gormon will require to be intensely lovable."
"The cards are quite artistic this year," said Lady Esmondet; "but of yours, I think the one from poor Marie Perrault the mostrecherchee."
"She encloses me a few lines; poor girl, she makes a great fuss over the few bits of gold I sent her. I have just read a letter from Mrs. Wingfield; after a good deal of chit-chat she says: We are staying at the Lord Elton's place, Surrey, and are quite lively over the Trevalyon's 'Hidden Wife' story; the men are mad that he runs loose, while they are held in bondage with the fetters that he should be held in also. I declare, god-mother dear, one is inclined to think envy is the motive power that rules the human family."
"Indeed, yes; envy, hatred and malice are a prosperous firm who will not fail for want of capital."
"This Major Delrose, that the Marchmonts named, must be a sworn enemy of poor dear Lionel?"
"He is, and of years."
"Ah! an intuitive feeling told me so; and at Rose Cottage; and the woodland at the outskirts of our grounds hides it from the Hall; and a man and woman could meet and plot unobserved; but, god-mother mine, let us away to dress; the first bells are sounding their sweet musical invitation, and I shall try to forget Mrs. Haughton; for, among Christ's gifts to men, I perhaps have not valued that most excellent gift of charity."
Vaura is first robed, but Lady Esmondet enters the hall from her boudoir in a few moments. They are now in the landau, and rapidly driven to that most stately of modern sanctuaries, a type in its magnificent architecture and strength of the pride, riches, and unity of the wonderful system it represents.
Vaura wears a robe of seal brown velvet and tight jacket of seal fur, a smallecruvelvet bonnet with scarlet geraniums among the lace.
Lady Esmondet wishes Lionel could see the sweet face, and the far-away look in the great expressive eyes. The vast building was crowded to the doors; the singing of mass grand to sublimity, and "the holy organ's rolling sound was felt on roof and floor," its vibrations thrilling the hearts of the worshippers. The majestic grandeur of the interior of this stately edifice, with its many altars, was on this holy festival, enhanced by many beautiful decorations, chaste in design and of costly value. Rare gems, vessels of gold, and vessels of silver, the gifts of princes, sparkled on altars of perfect workmanship, while beauteous flowers raised their heads from priceless vases, trying in vain, with their sweet odour to drown the fumes of incense, wafted from the censor in the hands of the acolytes.
High mass being concluded, Lady Esmondet, with Vaura, slowly emerged from the sacred edifice. O'Gormon and a young Italian attached to the Quirinal having waited for them at the door, conducted them to their landau, when with warm Christmas greetings they parted to meat for lunch with the Duchess of Wyesdale. On reaching their destination they found their slender waisted hostess, with her daughter, the Lady Eveline Northingdon, with a few English and Italian notabilities, assembled in thesalons. The Duchess looked blank on seeing that Capt. Trevalyon was not in attendance; for to tell the truth, she had only invited Lady Esmondet and Miss Vernon because she could not very well bid Trevalyon to lunch and ignore his hostess.
For though he had only given her a few careless flatteries, they were her food; still he had looked into her eyes and smiled. It was only a way he had, but she was a silly little woman, and vain, telling herself that in the old days she was sure he loved her hopelessly, but the Duke then lived, and British law was in the way, a woman could not marry more than one man at one time. She little knew that the mighty eagle, as he soars to his home in the mountain heights, with his bold glance wooing the sun, would as soon love the puny night hawk as would Lionel Trevalyon waste his heart's strongest feelings on such a frail butterfly as Posey Wyesdale.
So, now, on theentreeof our friends without Trevalyon the Duchess, as she greeted them, called out in her thin treble,
"Where's my truant cavalier? You have never come without him? That would be too cruel."
"We have; simply because he has left Rome and Italy."
"Left Rome without bidding meadieu," screamed Posey, "how cruel! Eveline, ring for my drops; the shock makes me feel quite faint. Tell me how, and why, Lady Esmondet?"
"His uncle, Sir Vincent was dying,—is now probably over the border."
"To a death-bed! how unfortunate! What shall I do without him for my tableaux?" she was moved to tears—for the tableaux.
"What a pity the mighty Angel of Death would not stay his hand even for the tableaux of an English Duchess!" said Lady Esmondet, with veiled cynicism.
"Yes, I think he was very cruel," sobbed the Duchess.
"Never mind, mamma," said Eveline, soothingly "Some one else can take his place, and perhaps Capt. Trevalyon will now be a baronet, and that will be so nice. You like him, so it will make it all right."
"So it will," said Posey, drying her eyes, "if it's so, is it, LadyEsmondet?"
"Yes, Lady Wyesdale, Capt. Trevalyon succeeds to the baronetcy."
Lady Esmondet's remark was carried with different variations to the end of thesalon, where Vaura sat. She was immediately besieged with questions.
"What is this rumour, Miss Vernon," asked an Englishman; "is Trevalyon to be raised to the peerage?"
"For his looks of an Adonis and many fascinations," cried one.
"No, for his manyaffaires de coeur," laughed another.
"Or that his 'hidden wife' is coming forth," said a London man, who read the news.
"More likely for some knightly act, by his Queen rewarded," echoed a soft-voiced Italian.
"Or his vote is promised for the war supply," said the London man.
"Carita, carita!" said Vaura, laughingly, and turning to the London man, "You forget the party motto, 'no bribery,' Mr. Howard, and if you all lend an ear, I shall tell you that instead of a peerage, our friend, as far as I know, is plain Capt. Trevalyon."
"Heresy, Miss Vernon, for he is not 'plain,' and you women will have it that he is a peer in our age."
"A peerless way of putting it, Mr. Howard," laughed Vaura.
"Luncheon is served, my lady," said the butler.
"Somebody take in everybody," said the Duchess. "We always go to luncheonsans ceremonie."
And so fate willed Signor Castenelli (the young Italian who had accompanied them to the landau) to Vaura. The table was gay with Sevres china andmajolicaware, but the viands were poor and scanty, and the victuals few and far between. One man of healthy appetite could easily have laid bare dishes that had been prepared for seven, when five morning callers having been invited to remain, so lessened themorceaufor each guest. The Duchess having decided on getting all her wardrobe from the magic scissors of Worth, had determined to retrench in the matter of wines, etc., not putting faith in the adage that "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
"Believe me," she would say to her butterfly friends, "I know men's tastes, and they would rather feast their eyes than their stomachs."
You may be very wise, Posey Wyesdale, but trust me, a man has no eyes for either you or your gown, if after a long ride or much calling he finally, in an evil hour, succumbs to your invitation to lunch and you give him a mouthful of chicken and one slice of wafer-like bread and butter, the mighty whole washed down with a cup of weak tea or thin wine; rather would he (curled darling though he be) return to the primitive custom of his forefathers and feed the inner man at the much-despised mid-day dinner on steaming slices of venison or beef, while he slaked his thirst in a bumper of British beer. But as O'Gormon said to Castenelli, on dining with him on that same evening: "Faith, all that was on the table of Lady Wyesdale wouldn't add to the hips of a grasshopper."
"No, a fellow wouldn't have to try your larding system to get himself into waltzing shape; did your little. English duchess cater for him," had laughed Castenelli.
But let us return to the Duchess of Wyesdale and her guests.
It seemed to Lady Esmondet, who was seated near her hostess, who plied her with questions as to Captain Trevalyon's whereabouts and possible doings, an insufferable bore to be there. To Vaura, who was more pleasantly placed; it seemed as though a few sentences were said, a few mouthfuls eaten, and the feast over.
"How is your noble king; Signor Castenelli," inquired Vaura.
"Our beauteous flowers will not bloom, nor our sweet-song birds sing another summer for him; my heart weeps as I say it, Signora."
"Yes; he is a fit king for so fair a land, and I sincerely trust for your sake and Italy, your fears will not be realized. The gentle Pius IX. is also stricken down."
"Yes, Signora, but our Holy Father's loss could be more easily replaced than that of our beloved temporal sovereign."
"Yes; a few solitary closetings of the Cardinals, a few ballots taken, a few volumes of smoke, and the Pope lives again."
"You like my city, Signora?"
"I love it. Ah! how much have you here to enoble, to refine, to educate; what great souls have expanded in an atmosphere laden with the breath of a long, never-dying line of poets, orators, sculptors and painters. Yes, Signor Castenelli, it is a noble heritage to be Roman-born."
"Thanks, Signora Vernon, for your gracious tribute to my country. But alas, we are fast becoming inoculated with the progressive spirit of the age; the American is among us."
"You should extol him, Signor Castenelli, it is the fashion with us to welcome him, his note-book and his gold."
"He is too energetic for me," said the Italian, as Vaura taking his arm followed others to the salons and from the feast.
"He is a man of his time; you and I, Signor, are old-fashioned in regretting that many of the old land-marks are doomed; the spirit of the age is insatiable and his votaries are never idle in sacrificing in his honour, and if we'd be happy we must not weep. I confess I regret that your historic, not over clean, but picturesque Jews quarter, the Ghetto, is to give place to your new palace of justice; it is rather an incongruity (to me) that it should rise as if from the ashes of hearth-stones round which in days of yore figures sat to whom justice had been very imperfectly meted out."
"True, true, Signora Vernon, and I don't like to see them all go, and your sympathy is sweet. The American is a giant in his time; but we are not as they, he is literally a man of to-day; he has to be always in a hurry to make his name tell. We have done all that, but he is wrong to say we are dreamers," and his eyes flashed; "our blood is as full of fire as in the days of the Gracchi, the Caesars."
"Theirs was a grand age, but ours is gay, and could we be promoted backwards, I fear me," she added gaily, "we would long for our telephone, our electric light, our novels, our mutual club life, our great Worth, our lounging chairs, and many other pet luxuries."
"True, Signora," answered Castenelli, in the same tone, "and I can answer for myself; were abelleof those days to step from the canvas for my approval, I should tell her to sleep on, and give place to her more beautiful and gay sister of my own day."
"In the name of the butterflies of to-day, I thank you," said Vaura gaily.
"How long do you grace Rome with your presence?"
"One short week and a day, Signor; and I shall not leave your sun-warm Italia without regret, replete as it is with so much that charms the mind and senses, none so soulless I hope, but would feel as I shall on bidding adieu to one of the choicest gardens Dame Nature revels in."
"Why leave us so soon?"
"Fate wills it, and there are home revels to which we are bid, and the crush of the season after, where we shall only see our wings glisten by Edisons or the now doomed gas-shine, for fog reigns supreme in the day-time, and poor old Sol is hid from us."
"London belles would shine by their own beauty even in Egyptian darkness."
For the Italian took pleasure in the beauty of the fair woman beside him, her expressive face changing as some word touched her heart, or again gay, reflecting a nature ever ready to respond in sympathy with the feeling of those who pleased her.
"One of your countrymen writes me from your metropolis," taking a letter from his pocket; "I shall read you a line or two: 'Our city will soon be bright with the beauty of fair women, handsome men, superb robings, gay equipages, prancing steeds. Rumour hath it that one of our favourite belles is sunning herself in your land. Don't mar the beauty of our constellation by detaining her with you after the season opens for we must havela belleVernon.' Would that I had the power, was my thought as I read."
"Your friend exaggerates my poor charms, Signor."
"With so much of beauty to choose from, mademoiselle, London society is critical, and my friend only endorses its verdict."
"Well, Signor, London will have something of weightier matter to decide this coming season than the passing beauty of woman. Our parliament have the vote on the war supply, and as Beaconsfield cannot go into the strife empty-handed on the issue of that vote hangs the destiny of many lives."
"Think you the Bright or peace party will be strong enough to prevail?"
"No; England's sons are ever jealous of their country's honour. There is a strong popular feeling against any encroachments by the Russian Bear. Our young officers are ever eager for a chance to distinguish themselves, and our men," she added gaily, "have fists all knuckles, always doubled for a good hard blow."
"Well, it seems to me an expensive undertaking that your bold countrymen meditate. Turkey is lazy and luxurious."
"Yes; not a fit sentinel for a dangerous post; still, what are we to do? We cannot uproot them and plant in their place the trusty Scot or brave Celt; no, we must even pay high wages to bad servants until wiser heads than ours in some future generation devise some better way of guarding our eastern possessions. But our pleasant chat is over, Signor, Lady Esmondet is making her adieux."
"And you leave so soon, Signora; I am jealous of London. May I see you again?"
"Surely, Signor; we go many places to take a last loving glance."
"Give me something definite, I pray you."
"Well, the palace of the Vatican on to-morrow morning. I must have another long look at the painting of the Transfiguration. In the afternoon a drive in the gardens of the Borghesian villa. In the evening the theatre and the exquisite voice of Patti. And now what say you, grave and reverend Signor; will you remember your lesson while I sayau revoir," and with a gay smile and a warm pressure of the hand from Castenelli Miss Vernon, after saying her farewell to Lady Wyesdale and her daughter, followed her god-mother to the landau.
"You seem to have enjoyed your chat with Signor Castenelli," said Lady Esmondet, as they drove away; Miss Vernon to pick up Miss Marchmont for even-song at the Church of St. Augustine, Lady Esmondet for home.
"Yes, he is pleasant to me, as most of his countrymen are; there is a fervor about them, with all their languor, that is refreshing after our stoical Briton; I fear me you were not so well placed, the little Duchess seemed to fasten upon you."
"She did, and entertained me with an unceasing catechism as to Lionel's whereabouts, his deeds past and present; seems to fear his cousin, Judith Trevalyon; in fact, plainly shows her old predilection, is as aforetime, alive in her breast; is anxious to know how we became so intimate with him; whether he goes to Haughton Hall; whither the woman your uncle has married has invited her; says she does not leave Rome until the middle of January; wants to know if we shall be there for the Twelfth-night ball; wonders if Lionel will retire for a fashionable six weeks' mourning. Says there is a rumour that he is engaged to half a dozen women, and has a wife and children somewhere; is crazy (to use her own expression) to know if you are, as report says, engaged to Del Castello, etc., etc., and asked me point-blank, if I like dear Mrs. Haughton."
"What a whirl the brain of the slender waist Duchess must be in, and what a bore she was to you; so she also goes to Haughton. Fancy uncle on one side, and Major Delrose, the Rose Cottage people, Mrs. Meltonbury, Peter Tedril, Hatherton, etc., on the other; Madame well knows how to mix up the brandy cocktail and poker of midnight, with sober 9 o'clock whist and old port, but the scales are weightier on one side. But behold the naturalist, waiting at the door with prayer book in hand, ready for her devotions."
Lady Esmondet, Vaura, and Robert Douglas ate their Christmas dinner quietly together. "I shall feel lonely when you leave Rome," said the priest, as he bade them a warm goodnight.
"Naturally, you will miss us; we are almost a part of your old home," said Lady Esmondet.
"I have no doubt, Roberto, that the Marchmonts will be very kind to you when we are gone," said Vaura, smilingly.
"Yes, she will be good to a lonely priest," he answered absently; then recovering himself, "but I should not say lonely; have I not the Church."
As a footman fastened the hall-door after the Rev. Robert, Vaura said:
"The Church will soon not be sufficient to fill up his life; at least the naturalist will make him feel so."
"How differentlycherRoland would range himself," said Lady Esmondet, thinking of his hopeless love for Vaura; "that girl with her bugs and beetles, her sandy locks and sharp elbows, would drive him distracted. I wonder what affinity Robert can have with such an one."
"Why doth he love her? 'Curious fool, be still; is human love the growth of human will?' saith the poet. So, god-mother dear, for aught we can say, they must e'en join the legion of impossible unions. But we are both weary, and had best to bed and sleep or dreams."
"Yes, 'tis late; good night, dear; we have both missed Lionel to-day."
"We have; he little dreams how much."
And as Vaura's robes were unfastened, and the deft fingers of her maid made her comfortable for the night, a tall figure and handsome face, tawny moustache, shading lips sweet yet firm in expression, tired eyes that were generally grave, but could flash or be tenderly loving, rose before her.
"'Twas only last night," she though, as she laid her soft cheek on the pillow, "he was with us, and I feel as though we had been parted for ages; and he suffers by all these rumours; and my dearest is in a tangled web of difficulty and I am not near to give him my sympathy, and poor dear uncle is not happy either; and it's a woman's work, but this making of moans is unnatural to me; I must make Time fly, and when I am once in England, my aim shall be to make those two men regain their old happiness; good-night, Lionel, I am weary to see your face again, to hear your words of love and feel your arms about me, for the sweet feeling that I belong to you seems only a dream; come back, come."
The following day the programme of which Vaura had spoken to Castenelli, was gone through. But as Vaura wished just now that the days would quickly join themselves to the great past, we shall not linger; but say, that on nearing the painting of the Transfiguration, a figure caught her eye, it was that of the young Italian Castenelli, who, with the dark rich colouring, clear cut features and soft brown eyes that Roman blood gives, looked as though he might have stepped from the canvas on the wall.
The painting in its glorious beauty held them in silent admiration for some time. Vaura drew a long breath as she turned away, saying:
"The man who painted the figure of the Christ in its God-like sanctity of expression, must have been inspired. What a volume of sermons it preaches!"
As the Italian had tickets of admission to the Tower of St. Peter's, Vaura decided to make the ascent. The double walls of the dome are passed through as quickly as possible, as Vaura's time is short. But the view from the top! who can describe it? Not I; my pen falls lifeless; it would take a Moore to sing of; a Byron to immortalise; a Longfellow, a Whittier or a Tennyson to make an idyl of; it has sent artists wild; the eye rests lovingly on the hill-crests of the Sabine, Volscian and Albano on the one side, then turns to the city with its temples, its palaces, the historic past showing in their very stones. Then the Coliseum and the Forum, each speaking their own story; then the eye turns to the winding Tiber; and finally rests on the deep calm waters of the violet Mediterranean in the far away.
"Ah, Signor Castenelli, it is too much for one day; 'tis no wonder theItalian is a poet. You dwell in a maze of beauty in nature and art.Dame nature with you wears such a rich warm dress; 'tis little wonderyour canvas, aye, and your own faces show such sun-warm tints."
"You should dwell with us, Signora; you feel the poetry of our land."
On parting from the Italian he tendered to Vaura for herself and Lady Esmondet his box at the theatre, as being more favourably situated than the only one Captain Trevalyon had been able to procure, and at Vaura's invitation he dined at the villa Iberia, escorting them afterwards to hear the wonderful voice of Patti.
On the morning of the 28th a telegram arrived from Lionel which read as follows:
"To Lady Esmondet."Villa Iberia, Rome, Italy.
"Sir Vincent Trevalyon died at 11 p.m. the 27th inst. Shall write to-day.
"LIONEL TREVALYON, "The Langham, London, England. "28th December, 1877."
"Poor Sir Vincent gone. And so generations pass. When death bowls out one man another takes the bat; so now Captain is Sir Lionel Trevalyon," said Lady Esmondet, as she read the telegram.
"Yes. None shall triumph for a whole life long, for death is one and the Fates are three," said Vaura.
On the 30th came from Lionel two letters, extracts from which we shall give.
"Every moment of my time is occupied, but know you will be interested in my doings, so drop you a line. My cousin with my lawyer and self read the will. By it my uncle bequeaths to me $500,000 in gold. I was surprised at his generosity. The whole of his fortune would be mine if I and Judith could marry; that would not suit either of us as we are totally unsuited to each other. Judith leaves by steamer The Queen for New York on the 1st January. My poor uncle lived for three hours after my arrival. He was in great pain, suffering from Bright's disease, but brain clear; seemed to cling to me; he told me he wished I could persuade Judith to marry me and try and make her more womanly and live at my place in the north; but God forbid that our lives should be linked together. What a contrast she is to Vaura. Should Judith ever be guilty of giving up her freedom it will be to a man who admires the divided skirt, etc., etc."
"….Yes, darling, the words I have written, what are their worth in telling you of my great love for you! You don't know how I hunger to look again into your warm, expressive eyes, to hold you to my heart. If you were only with me, my love, I should drink so freely of your tender sympathy, that with it as a tonic to my weary waiting heart, I could go forth into the midst of the news-mongers, into the nest of wasps, and conquer and untangle the web of difficulty in a few short days. But you, alas! are far away, and I have only a few minutes of past bliss to feed on when I kissed your sweet lips, when you made life a paradise by leaning your dear head on my breast. My love, my love, I cannot be long without you. You must come to me whether I can prove to society, with its shams, that Mrs. Grundy has lied in giving me a hidden wife or no; you must come to be my own love, no matter who says nay. My heart, my heart, you are mine; mine by right of the subjection the fetters you have placed me in, and woven for me. Mine by right, for you have taken my boasted strength from me. Mine, mine, no matter what the world may say. My life, my love, write to me; I am half delirious. I am in torture; full of jealous fears less you may forget me. I regret once and again that I left you. Remember, darling, I shall be always jealous, for I know the magnetic force of your charms. I am mad, I know I am, when I think you are so far, such 'lengths of miles' from me. Ask Lady Esmondet to come on at once and stay a day or two at her house here (it is well warmed—I have been to see) in pity to the man you have slain, and who loves you past all you can know; love, come. I am doing all I can, my own, to conquer the difficulty; I have already been to the offices of our great daily, and one editor apologized, saying the news of my 'hidden wife' was a temptation to him in the 'silly season.' For heaven's sake, my heart's darling, don't let anything you may hear against me turn your heart from me. The very thought of such a triumph for Mrs. Grundy in herroleof social astronomer, as she sits in her watch tower, telescope in hand, turns my brain. My heart aches for a letter, for though my written words seem to me cold; I shall devour yours, simply as coming from your pen. Come to me quick, my love; I must have a letter and I must have you. In a stationer's to-day I saw a photo of you in a case with those of Mrs. Cornwallis West, Langtry and Wheeler, there were just the four; you all sold, my darling, at five shillings each. The stationer said, condescendingly, 'that you would all bring a higher figure, but he merely wished to educate the masses to a high standard of beauty. His monetary benefit was quite a minor consideration.' The fellow's manner amused me; but you see, love, that the future Lady Trevalyon in thus educating the masses reigns in the heart of mankind, and not only in the heart of the man who only lives in her love…."
"I am more than glad, Vaura,ma chere, that Dame Fortune is playing so smilingly into dear Lionel's hands," said Lady Esmondet, as she read aloud the letter she had received from Trevalyon on the morning of the 30th. Yes, more than glad, for the legacy of $500,000 and the title, will do more to close the gaping eyes of society, and lips of Dame Rumour, than any red-tapeism in the form of libel suits; or living proofs, from living truthful lips."
"True, god-mother dear, and 'tis well we are women of our day, or the knowledge that a man may, if he will, live the life of a Mormon in Utah, on the quiet; and if he present a wife well gilt with gold, and a title, to society; society will fall prostrate; or this knowledge might mystify us."
"Yes, we hive eaten of the tree of knowledge, Vaura dear; we know society's deal and the cards she bids us play; no matter though we don't like our hand."
"Poor Lionel does not relish the play just now, manly, brave, and true as he is," said Vaura, pityingly.
The morrow dawned, fair and bright, and Vaura looked as bright and fresh as a goddess of day, as she stepped, from the door of the villa, robed in a gown of blue velvet, tight jacket of same, and a small bonnet of a lighter shade, with long tan kid gloves; her cheek was warm with the colour her quickened heart-beats gave, and the love- light shone in her eyes, for she had again just re-read Lionel's loving words, and knew her own would soon make his heart glad.
O'Gormon came up the walk as she descended the verandah steps.
"Good morning, Miss Vernon."
"Bonjour, Sir Dennis; sorry I am deserting the villa as you are making yourentree."
"Fortune favours me, in that you are not already gone. May I not be your escort, and attend you?"
"Well, I scarcely know; I am not going to the Colonna gardens," she answered gaily.
"No matter, I am only too willing to follow you blindly; whither thou goest I go; thy will shall be my will; thy goal my goal."
"Then to the dusty shop of Pedro; to the rescue of some trifles in the matter of bric-a-brac."
"But, am I not sufficient escort without yon trim female; give her a holiday to go buy ribbons to 'tie up her bonny brown hair.'"
"You may take an hour's pleasure, Saunders; I do not require your further attendance."
And now they bend their steps in the direction of the old town, and turning into a short, narrow street, ascend the high stone steps of an old house; so old one wondered it held together; in fact, many stones had fallen from the front wall, giving it a hollow-eyed appearance. The wholequartierin which they now are, presents a dilapidated front. But when they enter the old, mouldy apartment, lit up with so much of the beautiful, they forgot the gloomy, damp street; the uninviting exterior of the building; the weird old man in charge; everything but the gems by which they are surrounded. Here were some rare bits of Sevres and Dresden china, there some modern tile painting, here some old Roman jugs, jars, and vases; there the sweet face of a Madonna looks down, as if in pity, on a Greek dancing girl. Here a goblet, fit for a kingly gift; there a zone to win the good graces of some pretty little ballet dancer. Here were Romish missals in rare old inlaid coverings, side by side with garters studded with precious stones, destined for the leg of woman.
Vaura, an ardent admirer of the choice in bric-a-brac, was in her element amid this confusion of beauty, while her companion preferred the living charms of a lovely woman more than anything the world of art could show; so, not a purchaser, he seated himself on a chair with more carving than comfort to recommend it, and watching Vaura, fell into a reverie: "She is the most priceless gem in the casket, and though my governor left me as heritage the waste acres, and nothing but an income of debts to keep up Castletruan, unless I marry money, by my faith a fellow could live on love with Vaura Vernon, better than on stalled ox without her."
Here he gave a start knocking down a porcelain vase at the weird voice of Pedro from behind, saying:
"You don't examine my poor wares, mi lord.'
"The shattered remains of that vase are typical of thedenouementof the idle dreams I was dreaming," he muttered, as the wily Italian, full of regrets, picked up the fragments, naming double the value of the vase, and thinking,
"He would not have spent asoldi, the Signora occupies all his thoughts; so Pedro, you are in good fortune that the English lord was startled at the sound of thy voice; the intention was good, Pedro, so is the result."
Vaura now signified to the Italian her wish to purchase bric-a-brac to the extent of a golden goblet, beautiful in design and of early Roman handiwork. A group of statutory, representing Venus and Adonis, at once piquant and charming, with an exquisite painting of the Dying Gladiator pathetic in the extreme.
"He is a grand athlete," said Sir Dennis.
"Yes, and a land-mark of Home, in the by-gone. Ah! Sir Dennis, there has been more martyr's blood shed in the immortal city than that of the early Christians; when one thinks of the use the Coliseum was put to, when one thinks of the Roman women with their warm beauty, of their men beautiful as gods, who graced with their presence scenes where men like that met a death of torture, one weeps for human nature with its stains, its blots. Ah! well, even the flowers one loves best are bespattered in the mire, and soiled by the skirts of mortals with not too clean a record, and the pure snow-flake as it falls goes down with smut from the chimney upon it, it is only the trail of the serpent which is over all."
"The wells of pity in your eyes are deep and full enough to take in more than the Dying Gladiator; he is dead; there are living men," said the Irishman with the susceptibility of his race.
"Why, Sir Knight of Erin," said Vaura gaily, as she turned from the painting, "you are not going to ask me to weep over all suffering humanity, from the Pole, not North but Siberian; the Sultan, whose siesta, is disturbed by the call to arms; to your own Pat with his real or imaginary wrongs."
"To the shades of oblivion with Pat and the Pole,—they don't fill the world."
"And in the meantime the shades of evening will be upon us if we don't hasten. Pedro, you will send my purchases with the vases and model of St. Peter's Lady Esmondet bought yesterday, to the Villa Iberia, and be expeditious, as the servants are now packing our belongings for England."
"Already packing!" said the Irishman, as they turned their steps homeward, "that sounds like the first note of a fare-thee-well."
"A true and fairly-well made remark, oh, Son of Erin!"
"Your voice is glad as the bird-notes of my own Isle, which means you'll smile as you say farewell."
And so in gay chit-chat Time seemed as naught until the villa was reached. Sir Dennis lunching with them when as afterwards the ladies having P.P.C.'s to make, he took a reluctant leave.
The following three days were spent in leave-takings to the beauties abounding in and around the city; sometimes attended by Signer Castenelli, sometimes by the warm-hearted Irishman, and again by Priest Douglas; they walked again and lingered in the gardens of the Colonna palace they loved; the dear warm earth which was kissed so lovingly by the sun's rays as not to be cold to the bare brown feet of the child-peasant; and sent up such bright flowers for the vase of the King. Their glance rested often on the deep blue of the heavens above them, as though to carry its majestic arch with them to lift the leaden clouds from off the spires of London, which seemed as though weighed down to earth, as the souls the bells in their tower called to worship, were weighted with the clouds in the struggle of life.
And so Father Time, who to Vaura for once seemed to walk with stealthy step, still with inevitable tread brought the world and humanity to the fourth day of a new year.
On the third a letter had come from Col. Haughton to Lady Esmondet, which ran thus:
"Your letters are so full of health that I don't think I'm selfish in saying to let nothing tempt you and my hearts-light, Vaura, to stay away any longer; when you come you will not blame me for wanting you both; my married life has not been of very long duration, and yet, and yet my new made wife … but you will see if there is anything to see; you are not a curious woman, Alice, God forbid; but you will know in the social atmosphere which surrounds me, if I needlessly fear for the honour of my name.
"The preparations for the ball are on a gorgeous scale and mybete noire, Major Delrose, is up to the neck in, floral decorations. And my lady's gown, mine and yours, too; did we say him yea; his nose is broad enough to enter into everybody's business; and his back is broad enough to bear anything I may write you.
"Be sure and be here on the morning of the sixth, so you can rest for the night's frolic; and Vaura, whose health is too splendid to feel much fatigue, can chat with me and look about her.
"I see by theDaily Newsthat Trevalyon has succeeded to the baronetcy; he writes me he will be here for the ball; I feel just now in the humour for a long talk with my old friend.
"I'm really grieved he should have got himself into such a mess as to have married some years ago some female he has been hiding ever since. It is common gossip here; some name her as a ballet dancer; some as pretty daughter of his late father's lodge-keeper; some, as wife of a friend; in whatever dress Dame Rumour presents her, she's a toothsome bit for Mrs. Grundy. Whatever truth there's in it the wasps sting Trevalyon all they can; but the butterflies smile and say: 'if he has, he's handsome enough to take out a license for anything.' I have regretted since hearing the news and seeing it in the papers, that he was in daily intercourse with Vaura; but again, if he is bound as I fear, I can trust to his honour not to endeavour to gain her affections.
"Isabel Douglas was married on New Year's' day; we were invited; Blanche and I went; the laughs at the Hall were the loudest, so Mrs. Haughton remained. Isabel looked hopeful and happy, and an ideal Scotch lassie as she is. I am writing in the recess at the end of the library, and merry voices and gay laughter reach me here; but the sounds come not from any of my personal friends; none are with me as yet; we have Mrs. Meltonbury, the Fitz-Lowtons, two De Lancy girls, Peter Tedril, Everly, and Major Delrose at Rose Cottage—means Major Delrose at the Hall. So you see, Alice, a congenial spirit would be congenial. Read above to Vaura; she is a woman of the world, and knows its walks and ways. Come soon. And from
"Yours,"ERIC HAUGHTON,"Haughton Hall, Surrey, England.
"To both, love and kind thoughts,"January 2nd, 1878."
"TO LADY ESMONDET,"Villa Iberia, Rome, Italy."
The outcome of above letter was to cause Lady Esmondet and Vaura to make immediate preparations to reach Haughton Hall.
"We should be there; the hand Madame holds is too full of tricks," said Lady Esmondet, energetically, as she finished reading the letter aloud.
"We can go to-night by the midnight express," said Vaura, impulsively.
"I should like it, dear, but you are full of engagements for to- morrow, and we are due at the Opera tonight."
"Trifles, all; as you are willing, we shall be on the wing to-night."
Tres bien ma chere; I shall give the orders, but there will be three or four pairs of wistful eyes looking for yourentreeat the opera, to-night."
"Yes, until the curtain rises," said Vaura gaily.
On the afternoon of the same day (the third) Castenelli, with a couple of friends, also O'Gormon, on calling at the villa, heard a rumour of the departure from the servants (who were all astir, their ladies being out driving), the Italian p'shawed and said to his friends:
"It is not so, the beautiful Signora told me she would be at the Duchess of Wyesdale on the night of the fourth for a concert and ball; they leave at sunrise on the fifth." And so was content that the servants were mistaken. Not so O'Gormon, who hearing the same story, and knowing their intention to attend the opera went thither, and not seeing them was for leaving, but the Wyesdale signaled him to her side, and so off duty only at the close; saw her party to the carriage, and throwing his toga over his evening dress, hurried to the depot. And none too soon, Lady Esmondet was already in the coach and Vaura about to follow, when the tall figure of the Irishman came up hurriedly.
"Surely you are not going to leave us, Miss Vernon, and so hush our heart-beats as we listen in vain for your footfall."
"I am, and my heart is a trifle sad, as I say so."
"And has a great gladness, or you would not make us sad by going."
"Well, yes, Sir Dennis, glad and sorry; I go home! You are Irish and will know the feeling; one loves with one's whole heart, and one's life, one's home and friends; one loves with passion; and for a year, or a day, fair warm Italia, where one has met loving words and kind hearts, and yours is one Sir Knight of Erin," she added with feeling, as she returned his tight hand clasp.
"The last whistle, by my faith, I wish it were for me too."
And the guard locked the door and in a few minutes, miles separated these two who had so lately spoken, Sir Dennis still staring at space, while a new pain came to his heart.
We shall not accompany our friends on their home-bound journey. Time will fly with greater speed if we relate not the talks and incidents by the way, but simply meet them at London, whither Lady Esmondet had telegraphed Trevalyon of their arrival. Accordingly, on their coming in at the station at 9 p.m., on the evening of the 5th, Lionel, all eagerness, met them.
"So kind of you to meet us, Sir Lionel," said Lady Esmondet, forMadame Grandy was about.
"Only a pleasure, dear Lady Esmondet. Someone told me you and Miss Vernon were due," and turning to his servant, "Here, Sims, are the checks; get the luggage stowed safely away until to-morrow morning, and send the maids on to Park Lane."
"Yes, sir; all right, sir."
"You look tired, poor fellow," said Vaura, sympathetically, as they were driven to Park Lane.
"Tired, yes, waiting for you. God only knows how I have missed you, darling."
"How about the nun you spoke of in your letter, Lionel?" inquired LadyEsmondet, "will she aid you? What a long story you have to tell us."
"Yes, and one until lately I had will nigh forgotten, for in spite of Dame Rumour's falseness I have not been the principal actor in it. For to-night only does she triumph, ere, to-morrow's sun has set I hope to be at or very near Haughton Hall with those who will lift the veil from the past, and put in Dame Rumour's hands another version of the scandal."
"We shall have a long evening together, Lionel; you can stay with us,I suppose."
"Only until I see you comfortably settled, dear Lady Esmondet, in still untangling the web of 'difficulty,'" and Vaura's hand is pressed. "I have a twelve-mile drive in a suburban train to the monastery of St. Sebastian."
"Nuns and monks, thedenouementwill be interesting," said Vaura.
"Will they win, that's the question; the other hand is full of knaves and tricks," said Lady Esmondet.
"They shall," answered Lionel, earnestly, and holding Vaura's hand, "I hold a hand that gives me strength to win."
Park Lane is now reached, the servants are in the hall to welcome their mistress, when the house-keeper says:
"If it will suit your ladyship, dinner will be served in twenty minutes or half an hour."
"Say half an hour, Grimes."
"Surely you can stay and dine with us, Lionel?" said his friend.
"You know, dear Lady Alice, how much I would wish it, but I must be off in less than half an hour."
Whereupon remembering the "Golden Rule," saying she would go and talk with the housekeeper, and so again these two who feel such completeness in each other, such fulness of satisfaction, such an ecstasy of love, are alone in the sweetest of solitude, dual solitude, and in silence, save for the deep full heart-beats.
"Let me take off your jacket, my own darling."
"I can, dear Lionel; you look too tired to do anything but rest."
But he does as he wills, the jacket of seal, and bonnet of velvet are off, the long tan gloves laid aside, the fluffy hair is caressed, a strong arm is about her, the perfect shaped head is again on his chest, and the sweet mouth and warm eyes are kissed rapturously.
"Rest; yes, love, I want rest, and can only rest so, with you in my arms; away from you I am nervous and agitated, afraid lest some one take you from me; my life, my love, oh! darling, darling, you don't know how dependent I am on you; on your love, your sympathy; you have not told me and I long to hear you say so; tell me if you love me, darling."
"Love you!" and she started to a sitting posture, "bend your face towards me, dearest, that you may read the truth in my eyes."
And now with a soft hand on each cheek, she continues.
"Love, you dearest, does the sun-flower love its god? Does the mother her first born? Then, do I love thee, my heart's dearest, with an unchanging tender love, and with all the intensity of my woman self."
For answer, she is drawn to a close embrace, and there are ecstatic moments with only throbbing eyes to the rhythm of heart-beats.
At last Vaura breaks the silence, by saying softly:
"'Tis time for you to leave me, Lionel, and yet I cannot spare you."
"I cannot go, my own, mine, mine; oh! darling, you do not know the joy, the paradise I feel as I hold you in my arms, and think that you, my beauty, you, whom men rave of, you actually love me; God be thanked," and the love-warm kisses come to the sweet flexible lips.
At this moment, Lady Esmondet considerately talking to Mars at the door, gave the lovers time to get a conventional number of inches between them, ere she entered.
"I fear it is time you were off, Lionel; it is really too bad you cannot dine with us."
Lionel standing up, and laying one hand on Vaura's head, as it rested on the cushioned back of the sofa, said:
"I feel as if I had drank of the elixir of life; you don't know how courageous I feel, now that I have you both back, when the difficulty is removed, I shall begin to live!"
"How the women will envy me!" she said, looking up lovingly at the handsome face full of grave earnestness, the tired look gone from the mesmeric eyes.
"You will both be wondrously happy, each a gainer in the other," said their friend earnestly.
"Do you think you will be able to go down with us, Lionel dear?"
"No, darling, I am sure not; I cannot say what train I shall take until I reach the monastery; there we decide."
"The plot thickens, a monk makes hisentree," said Vaura gaily.
"Yes, and I shall not tell either of you more of the play, the act will be more interesting, only this, tell Col. Haughton that after dinner, on to-morrow evening three unbidden guests will appear with myself, and that we shall carry a more highly spiced dish than any they have partaken of; further, that it is my wish that the Hall guests hear of the ingredients, so that they can tell the recipe to the London world. Good-bye, till to-morrow night, dear friend; good-bye, darling."
"Good-night, Lion, we shall be on the look-out for you; so don't tire our eyes."
"I shall feel your eyes, love, and shall hasten."
"Be sure, Lionel, that you come with winning cards."
"I shall, dear Lady Esmondet;au revoir."
"How greedily the gossips will partake of the dish in preparation for them! What an exciting scene we shall have!" said Vaura, as dinner over and servants dismissed, the friends chatted over a cup of coffee before retiring.
"Yes, indeed, dear; oh! if Lionel could only find this Mrs. Clarmont, with whom they said he eloped, and that she would reveal the facts, what a triumph!"
"But, if in reality; this Major Delrose was her favoured lover, he may yet have influence enough over her to stay her tongue," said Vaura, thoughtfully.
My own fear, dear, especially as I believe there was a child."
"And you say that in the bygone he was an admirer of my uncle's wife?"
"So Dame Rumour hath it."
"So, so, we all aim at something; the Delrose ambition was to pose as king o' hearts. Strange freak of fortune, that this all comes into the Haughton life; we must now only hope that the clouds in our sky will soon disperse. But, god-mother darling, we had best follow the advice of the liege lord of the wilful Katherine, and 'to bed.'"