A Heart-Song of To-day Part 40

Here Miss Marchmont's shrill voice was distinctly heard above the general hum, in animated discussion, saying,

"Oh, I'm sure he comes from the East."

The Rev. Douglas was evidently much amused and disputing the point; Miss Marchmont continued,

"The dear creature has such a beautiful colour--so bronzed."

"I'll lay any wager 'the dear creature' means a soldier," said Trevalyon to Vaura.

Vaura smilingly a.s.sented.

"A soldier," exclaimed Mrs. Marchmont in horror; "oh no, Capt.

Trevalyon, nothing so naughty; it's Miranda's last pet."

"But we women are given to petting the red-coats, Mrs. Marchmont,"

said Vaura with a laugh in her voice.

"They're too wild for dear Miranda," said Marchmont mater; "the pet you mean is the last sweet insect you have collected; is it not, my dear child?" she said, anxious for the fair fame of the owner of the fine exhibit in elbow and collar bone.

"Yes, mamma, you are right, but I am so sorry Mr. Douglas is not at one with me; I feel convinced the dear potato bug comes from the east; he is of brilliant colouring and luxurious habit."

Rev. Robert Douglas laughingly shook his head, and Sir Dennis said:

"Miss Marchmont, you cannot imagine the wager Capt. Trevalyon was laying when you talked about the 'bronzed beauty;' he wanted some one to take him up at ten to one you meant a dashing cavalry man, or a 'go-as-he-please' infantry."

"Order! order! O'Gormon," interrupted Trevalyon, laughing.

"Oh! I'm shocked, Capt. Trevalyon," cried Miss Marchmont seriously, "that my dear potato bug, with all his innocent ways, its care of its eggs,--."

Here a general laugh went round the table, except from Marchmont _mere_, who tried in vain to catch the fair Miranda's eye, who continued bravely, "should be taken for anything so wild as a soldier, who doesn't do anything so useful. But I must convert you, Mr.

Douglas," she continued, returning to the siege; "it would be such a sweet study for a clergyman; I shall lend you Ca.s.sels' Natural History, and you must promise to read it for my sake," she said gushingly.

Meanwhile, Trevalyon tried in vain to catch the drift of conversation between Vaura and her neighbour, but no, Mrs. Marchmont, though inwardly afraid of this squire of dames; and of his intellect, determined to appear at ease, and so talked on the one engrossing idea of her life; the last conundrum in fancy work, the last fashionable incongruity in the blending of colours. And poor, victimized Lionel longed to breathe in Vaura's refreshing breadth of thought; on his tormentor pausing to recover breath, it was not as balm to a wound to hear Sir Dennis say pleadingly:

"The gardens of the Collona palace are looking lovely in their tints of emerald; it will transport me to my loved isle, Miss Vernon, if you'll walk with me there some day; though our damsels are not fair as the companion I desire, and her rich beauty would add grace to the spot."

"Come, come, Sir Dennis, no flattery, I am jealous for the beauty of those gardens, and do not want to hear, even in jest, my poor looks would add to their charm," she answered gaily, and evading his question.

Here Lady Esmondet, feeling for Lionel's torture, catching Mrs.

Marchmont's eye, rose from the table, leaving the gentlemen to discuss the merits of bottles of no plebeian length of neck.

"How sweetly English the fire in the grate looks," observed Mrs.

Marchmont.

"Yes, it does; but while at home we really require it to keep away cold, here it is more to remind us of the warm sun gone to rest," said Lady Esmondet.

"There's no doubt the dear Spaniard, the Marquis Del Castello, has an eye for luxurious comfort," said Vaura, as she sank into the corner of a _tete-a-tete_ sofa and fell into a reverie of Lionel's probable leave-taking.

While Mrs. Marchmont seated herself in an Elizabethan chair, Miranda placing herself on a footstool by her side and laying her head with its thin sandy curls on her knee.

"What a child you are still, Miranda," said her mother, sentimentally, as she fondled the high cheek-bone.

"You are quite companions," said Lady Esmondet.

"We are bosom friends; more than sisters since the departure of my dear husband."

"Mr. Marchmont has been dead some time, I believe."

"Yes, some twelve years; but, dear Lady Esmondet, Miranda will tell you that I always speak of dear Charles as departed, gone before; more as if he had gone out to buy me some new fancy work, you know; the word 'dead' upsets my nerves so," and the sandy head drooped and a hand was laid on the forehead.

"Yes; dear mamma has such refined feelings."

"Yes," said her hostess, absently, for she heard a messenger arrive, a tap at the door of the dining-room, and knew the message was for the temporary master of the house, an answer to his telegram, and wished the Marchmonts back to their own quarters, so that the complete little trio were alone; but she is forgetting Madame Grundy, so says:

"I believe you intend wintering in Italy."

"Yes, we have rented Rose Cottage to a friend of Mrs. Haughton's, a Major Delrose, late of the --th Lancers."

"Oh, it's _your_ cottage he has rented," said Lady Esmondet, awaking to interest.

"Yes; Major Delrose took an awful fancy to it, and Mrs. Haughton, dear thing, took a good deal of trouble in making our arrangements; neither Miranda or myself are strong."

"Strong! What an odious word to apply to us. It smells of milk and milk-maids; we would be uninteresting without our pet ailments."

"Excuse me, my child, I know a zephyr could waft us away."

"Pull-backs would be rather in the way of the onward movement of the zephyr, don't you think?" inquired Vaura, ironically, and glancing at the figure of the speaker, who with her daughter wore, at the instigation of Mrs. Haughton (who laughed with her men friends at the objects they were), skin-tight chamois under-clothing, and with only one narrow underskirt beneath the dress, express the figure so that nothing is left to imagination.

"Ah! Miss Vernon, don't be severe; Mrs. Haughton, dear thing, says you have no pet sins, but if you will only wear tights, I shall send in my own name for them," she said coaxingly.

"_Merci_! madame," said Vaura lightly, "but Worth has not yet told me my pleasure in life would be enhanced by the encasing of my body in tights, so I shall content myself with myself, as you see me."

"I'm so sorry you won't."

"Yes; but I believe I interrupted you; you were saying something about Mrs. Haughton having kindly smoothed away difficulties in the way of your wintering in Italy;" this she said roused to interest for her uncle's sake, "and this Major Delrose, how was he mixed up with Mrs.

Haughton?"

"Oh! yes, Miss Vernon, the dear tights put everything else out of my head; well, as I was saying, Major Delrose longed to be near the Hall, and as the Colonel does not take to him, you see he is a little attentive to Mrs. Haughton, and the dear thing likes him, dear Charles was just like the Colonel, if men have handsome wives they don't like men to admire them; so Mrs. Haughton, dear thing, hit upon this plan, and they both arranged it with us one day they were in, and we were not strong, I mean we were delicate, so we remain as long as the Major wants Rose cottage, then we go to London to my sister, Mrs.

Meltonbury, for the season."

"Ah! I understand, quite a friendly arrangement," answered Vaura, a trifle sarcastically. Here a diversion was caused by the entrance of the gentlemen.

The fair Miranda raised her sandy head from her mother's knee and looked languishingly at the priest, who smiled as he took a seat beside her.

"I am so glad we have you in Rome during our stay," observed Mrs.

Marchmont, gushingly, "you will be such company for Miranda while I am embroidering; the sweet child was saying she should so much like to go to you for confession."

"Confessing! who is confessing?" said Sir Dennis, as he entered, "faith for once I would not say no to playing priest where there is a lovely penitent to shrive," and he glanced at Vaura and was making for the sofa beside her, but Lionel with one long step gained their mutual goal, saying: