A Heart-Song of To-day Part 36

Not until his arm had turned black would he consent; then the surgeon was called, he looked grave, saying that a great part of the pen had not been extracted; that ink, pen, and rust had done their work, and to save his life the arm must be amputated. This the poor fellow refused to do, saying he would rather die than sever his good right hand from his body.--If he could not hold a gun, nor ride t.i.tan with the hounds he would go. He would be sorry to leave Evy, but Posey could do very well without him, and breathing a prayer for his soul, Harold, Duke of Wyesdale, was gone.

And now after her year of fashionable mourning, his widow is pluming herself in colours, and Dame Rumour hath it that the somewhat fair, slightly faded dowager d.u.c.h.ess having buried her dead, will not say nay to another wooer. She was, as usual, posing in a corner of her carriage, and priding herself on her slight, girlish figure; wore no wraps; looking blue and chilly, for when one was driving the air was just fresh enough for something warmer than a gown of pale blue silk.

"Why will women go about looking as if Jack Frost had just given them a chilly embrace?" said Lionel, his gaze dwelling admiringly on Vaura's warm beauty, arrayed in short, tight-fitting black velvet jacket, small white plush bonnet, scarlet feathers and scarlet and white strings tied at one side of her pretty chin.

"The azure heavens framing fair angels; quite a sufficient robing, and appropriate; oh! grumbler," laughed Vaura.

"She is no amazon, and should wear other than silken armour, _ma belle_."

"Cupid's darts can easier penetrate," said Vaura, gaily.

"Not through a chilled heart, as compared with a warm one," he answers, quietly.

"Can one be cold in Italia. I do believe Old Sol pauses over us in his chariot, and smiles love-warm smiles upon us all," she continued.

"What a shame to see such pretty beasts in harness, Lionel, as those attached to our landau," observed Lady Esmondet.

"Yes, they are a fine pair and well matched."

"The one with a mane a trifle the longest," said Vaura, "reminds me of Oriole that I used to ride when a girl at Haughton."

"Yes," said Trevalyon, "I was just going to ask you if you noticed it.

What merry rides those were! what would I not give to (with my dearly bought experience of life) commence over again from those days."

"I remember feeling quite the woman in the scamper across country with you and dear uncle in my long habit; neither of you knew how I hated to don my short frock on my return."

"You were always a charming little hostess; and a few yards more in a draper's shop, instead of about your ankles detracted nothing from your charms."

"I did the best I could in taking time by the forelock, to be able to put in a word or two with your lordship and Uncle Eric; I read old periodicals and new, ancient history with modern philosophy and science notes."

"And they have you now, Vaura dear," said her G.o.dmother. "A womanly woman, every inch of you."

"You are partial, dear; yet I did in those days long for an Ovid and a metamorphosis."

"Do you remember the day I extricated you and Isabel in the Tower?"

"Yes," she said, a warmer rose coming to her cheek, "but my knight promised to blot that page from his memory.

"And so he endeavoured; but to no purpose."

"My brave knight was also an unmerciful tyrant."

"In the fines he levied," he said, leaning towards her; "they were the sweetest he ever had."

A soft light came to Vaura's face, as leaning into her corner she gave herself up to thoughts of the bygone. And she smiled now her woman's smile in the eyes that were on her face. And yet sighed as she thought of the jealousy of her boyish lovers of bygone days, for Roland Douglas and Guy had rebuked her for so often in the tales she wove for their amus.e.m.e.nt, having Lion Heart as the favoured knight.

"My girlish days at Haughton Hall were very, very happy," she said, quietly.

"And yet you would not go back to them and leave the dear present,"

said Lionel, looking into her eyes with his mesmeric look, and holding her hand tight as he a.s.sisted her from the carriage after Lady Esmondet, at the door of the villa.

"How know you, my brave lion-heart; you belong to those days, but I am content."

CHAPTER x.x.x.

WOMAN AGAINST WOMAN.

They had been luxuriating for about four weeks in the art treasures collected in the Eternal City. Their eyes feasted on so much of loveliness in gazing upon living marbles and speaking forms on canvas that Vaura was often moved to a feeling akin to pain as she thought:

"Oh, the pity of it; the pity of it, that the G.o.ds among men, living, breathing men, who created these soul-stiring things should be themselves dead!"

On returning from a long ride one morning Vaura and Lionel found a gay party of callers chatting with Lady Esmondet; amongst them was Vaura's old friend, Robert Douglas. The d.u.c.h.ess of Wyesdale was also there; come with the avowed purpose of calling upon Lady Esmondet and making the acquaintance of Miss Vernon, but in reality to see Captain Trevalyon, whom she had watched for in vain, having expected him to call since the day they had met on the Corso. But "he cometh not," she said, was still the burden of her song, so she determined to "beard the lion in his den," though she would be obliged by so doing to become acquainted with Miss Vernon, and she was one of those women who, invariably envious of a more beautiful sister, keep them at arms'

length. She could not but own to herself how beautiful Vaura was. The men raved of her, and she, the faded little dowager d.u.c.h.ess, disliked her accordingly. She had already outstayed the bounds of politeness, but being determined to gain her point said, languidly, to her hostess:

"I really must trespa.s.s upon your kindness a little longer, dear Lady Esmondet, I wish so much to meet Miss Vernon."

So that, as it was late when Vaura and Lionel returned, it came to pa.s.s that Saunders met her mistress at the hall door with a request from Lady Esmondet that she would come immediately to the morning-room without waiting to change her habit. So Vaura entered, gay, radiant, and with a fresh bloom upon her cheek, engendered partly by gentle caresses of the invigorating air, partly by the warmth in the looks and words of the handsome man by her side.

She made her way in answer to a look from her G.o.d-mother at once to her side, where the introduction took place.

"Her complexion is very well got up," thought the _pet.i.te_ faded d.u.c.h.ess, as she bowed carelessly, and who had used tints and washes ever since her sixteenth year. "I wonder whose wash she wears," and with a conventional word or two she turned with _empress.e.m.e.nt_ to Lionel, greeting him warmly, as Vaura crossed the room to where her old playmate sat, giving only a pa.s.sing word to acquaintances.

Lady Esmondet thought, as she glanced at the d.u.c.h.ess of Wyesdale, roused almost to animation in her reception of Captain Trevalyon, "Lionel is the magnet that has drawn her here; she has not forgotten her old penchant for him."

On seeing his hostess disengaged a young Frenchman, wearing the red ribbon of the Legion of Honour, won by a brave act in the Franco- German war, stepped to her side; he held in his hand a volume he had been admiring,--views of the lovely lake scenery of the British Isles.

They were soon discanting warmly upon their respective beauties, and became so interested that Lady Esmondet scarcely noticed that she was bidding adieu to the fashionable b.u.t.terflies who had been killing time in her presence for the last hour or two. At last they are all gone with the exception of the d.u.c.h.ess, who has risen to make her exit, and Robert Douglas, who is remaining to luncheon. The d.u.c.h.ess is just saying to Lionel:

"Oh, you are _sure_ to be here, and you won't refuse _me_, I _know_; I'd rather be Juliet to your Romeo in my tableaux than--. But, oh, dear, the others have heard us, and I did so hope it would have been a little secret between _us_, you know."

And Lady Wyesdale affected a childish look of terror as she turned to her hostess, saying:

"You won't think us very dreadful, Lady Esmondet?"

"Oh, dear, no; there's nothing dreadful in a pictured love scene."

But in reality she felt annoyed that this silly woman should pretend to an understanding between Captain Trevalyon and herself.

"And you won't tell Miss Vernon," she continued, beseechingly, "I want her to be surprised."

Vaura and Rev. Robert had joined the group as Captain Trevalyon was saying, laughingly,

"I cannot promise you, Lady Wyesdale, I am in Lady Esmondet's hands; if, as I expect the 12th of January sees her at Haughton Hall, I cannot possibly be with you, unless my photo in the garb you wish will suit."

"Of course he will say so before them," thought the d.u.c.h.ess, aloud, she says tapping him on the arm with her cardcase, "Come to my box at the Theatre to-night, I want to consult you about something, since dear Harold died," and a corner of her handkerchief went to her eyes, "I often feel so alone."