Thelma Part 59

"A lady!" continued Tommy, in loud tones. "A lady of t.i.tle! Wants to see you in private! Won't detain you long!"

Violet Vere raised her pewter mug once more, and drained off its contents.

"Lord, ain't I honored!" she said, smacking her lips with a grin. "A lady of t.i.tle to see me! Let her wait! Now then!" and snapping her fingers, she began her dance, and went through it to the end, with her usual vigor and frankness. When she had finished, she turned to the red-faced man who had watched her evolutions with much delight in spite of the abuse she had heaped upon him, and said with an affected, smirking drawl--

"Show the lady of t.i.tle into my dressing-room! I shall be ready for her in ten minutes. Be sure to mention that I am very shy,--and unaccustomed to company!"

And, giggling gently like an awkward school-girl, she held down her head with feigned bashfulness, and stepped mincingly across the stage with such a ludicrous air of prim propriety, that all her a.s.sociates burst out laughing, and applauded her vociferously. She turned and curtsied to them demurely--then suddenly raising one leg in a horizontal position, she twirled it rapidly in their faces,--then she gave a little shocked cough behind her hand, grinned, and vanished.

When, in the stipulated ten minutes, she was ready to receive her unknown visitor, she was quite transformed. She had arrayed herself in a trailing gown of rich black velvet, fastened at the side with jet clasps--a cl.u.s.ter of natural, innocent, white violets nestled in the fall of Spanish lace at her throat--her face was pale with pearl-powder,--and she had eaten a couple of scented bon-bons to drown the smell of her recent brandy-tipple. She reclined gracefully in an easy chair, pretending to read, and she rose with an admirably acted air of startled surprise, as one of the errand boys belonging to the Brilliant tapped at her door, and in answer to her "Come in!" announced, "Lady Winsleigh!"

A faint, sweet, questioning smile played on the Vere's wide mouth.

"I am not aware that I have the honor of--" she began, modulating her voice to the requirements of fashionable society, and wondering within herself "what the d----l" this woman in the silk and sable-fur costume wanted.

Lady Winsleigh in the meantime stared at her with cold, critical eyes.

"She is positively rather handsome," she thought. "I can quite imagine a certain cla.s.s of men losing their heads about her." Aloud she said--

"I must apologize for this intrusion, Miss Vere! I dare say you have never heard my name--I am not fortunate enough to be famous,--as _you_ are." This with a killing satire in her smile. "May I sit down? Thanks!

I have called upon you in the hope that you may perhaps be able to give me a little information in a private matter--a matter concerning the happiness of a very dear friend of mine." She paused--Violet Vere sat silent. After a minute or two, her ladyship continued in a somewhat embarra.s.sed manner--

"I believe you know a gentleman with whom I am also acquainted--Sir Philip Bruce-Errington."

Miss Vere raised her eyes with charming languor and a slow smile.

"Oh yes!"

"He visits you, doesn't he?"

"Frequently!".

"I'm afraid you'll think me rude and inquisitive," continued Lady Winsleigh, with a coaxing air, "but--but may I ask--"

"Anything in the world," interrupted Violet coolly. "Ask away! But I'm not bound to answer."

Lady Winsleigh reddened with indignation. "What an insulting creature!"

she thought. But, after all, she had put herself in her present position, and she could not very well complain if she met with a rebuff.

She made another effort.

"Sir Francis Lennox told me--" she began.

The Vere interrupted her with a cheerful laugh.

"Oh, you come from him, do you? Now, why didn't you tell me that at first? It's all right! You're a great friend of Lennie's, aren't you?"

Lady Winsleigh sat erect and haughty, a deadly chill of disgust and fear at her heart. This creature called her quondam lover, "Lennie"--even as she herself had done,--and she, the proud, vain woman of society and fashion shuddered at the idea that there should be even this similarity between herself and the "thing" called Violet Vere. She replied stiffly--

"I have known him a long time."

"He's a nice fellow," went on Miss Vere easily--"a _leetle_ stingy sometimes, but never mind that! You want to know about Sir Philip Errington, and I'll tell you. He's chosen to mix himself up with some affairs of mine--"

"What affairs?" asked Lady Winsleigh rather eagerly.

"They don't concern you," returned Miss Vere calmly, "and we needn't talk about them! But they concern Sir Philip,--or he thinks they do, and insists on seeing me about them, and holding long conversations, which bore me excessively!"

She yawned slightly, smothering her yawn in a dainty lace handkerchief, and then went on--

"He's a moral young man, don't you know--and I never could endure moral men! I can't get on with them at all!"

"Then you don't like him?" questioned Lady Winsleigh in rather a disappointed tone.

"No, I don't!" said the Vere candidly. "He's not my sort. But, Lord bless you! I know how he's getting talked about because he comes here--and serve him right too! He shouldn't meddle with my business."

She paused suddenly and drew a letter from her pocket,--laughed and tossed it across the table.

"You can read that, if you like," she said indifferently. "He wrote it, and sent it round to me last night."

Lady Winsleigh's eyes glistened eagerly,--she recognized Errington's bold, clear hand at once,--and as she read, an expression of triumph played on her features. She looked up presently and said--

"Have you any further use for this letter, Miss Vere? Or--will you allow me to keep it?"

The Vere seemed slightly suspicious of this proposal, but looked amused too.

"Why, what do you want it for?" she inquired bluntly. "To tease him about me?"

Lady Winsleigh forced a smile. "Well--perhaps!" she admitted, then with an air of gentleness and simplicity she continued, "I think, Miss Vere, with you, that it is very wrong of Sir Philip,--very absurd of him, in fact--to interfere with your affairs, whatever they may be,--and as it is very likely annoying to you--"

"It _is_," interrupted Violet decidedly.

"Then, with the help of this letter--which, really--really--excuse me for saying it!--quite compromises him," and her ladyship looked amiably concerned about it, "I might perhaps persuade him not to--to--intrude upon you--you understand? But if you object to part with the letter, never mind! If I did not fear to offend you, I should ask you to exchange it for--for something more--well! let us say, something more substantial--"

"Don't beat about the bush!" said Violet, with a sudden oblivion of her company manners. "You mean money?"

Lady Winsleigh smiled. "As you put it so frankly, Miss Vere--" she began.

"Of course! I'm always frank," returned the Vere, with a loud laugh.

"Besides, what's the good of pretending? Money's the only thing worth having--it pays your butcher, baker, and dressmaker--and how are you to get along if you _can't_ pay them, I'd like to know! Lord! if all the letters I've got from fools were paying stock instead of waste-paper, I'd shut up shop, and leave the Brilliant to look out for itself!"

Lady Winsleigh felt she had gained her object, and she could now afford to be gracious.

"That would be a great loss to the world," she remarked sweetly. "An immense loss! London could scarcely get on without Violet Vere!" Here she opened her purse and took out some bank-notes, which she folded and slipped inside an envelope. "Then I may have the letter?" she continued.

"You may and welcome!" returned Violet.

Lady Winsleigh instantly held out the envelope, which she as instantly clutched. "Especially if you'll tell Sir Philip Errington to mind his own business!" She paused, and a dark flush mounted to her brow--one of those sudden flushes that purpled rather than crimsoned her face. "Yes,"

she repeated, "as he's a friend of yours, just tell him I said he was to mind his own business! Lord! what does he want to come here and preach at me for! I don't want his sermons! Moral!" here she laughed rather hoa.r.s.ely, "I'm as moral as any one on the stage! Who says I'm not! Take 'em all round--there's not a soul behind the footlights more open and above-board than I am!"

And her eyes flashed defiantly.