VAURA IN A MEDLEY.
The mighty god, Society, having descended from his London throne, and
with a despotic wave of the hand bid his slaves forth to some resort
where fashion reigned; as a matter of course, you and I, _mon ami_,
must go with the stream if we would not be ostracised altogether; we
should dearly love to take a lazy summer jaunt with some of them; our
dear Lionel Trevalyon, in his lonely pilgrimage to the North Countree,
would be glad of companionship; I wish it had been his pleasant fate
to make his exodus with his old friends, the Lady Esmondet and Vaura
Vernon; but it was not to be. And so, through the moves of the
"miscreator circumstance," we are all separated until now, when I am
more than glad to tell you that Lady Esmondet, with Miss Vernon, have
arrived this day, 2nd Nov., '77, at Dover, having come up from gay
Brighton, and are hourly expecting Col. and Mrs. Haughton, who had
left by the White Star Line for New York immediately on their
marriage; thence, on sending home the most artistic of American fresco
workers and decorators, they spent a month amid the gay revellers at
Long Branch and Saratoga; back again to the old shores and Paris,
choosing from this great storehouse of the beautiful, gems in art,
both to please the senses and delight the cultured and refined. With
the face of Trevalyon seldom absent from her thoughts, Mrs. Haughton
unconsciously chose much that would have been his own choice also. A
page, in the hotel livery, tapping at the door of the sitting-room,
_en suite_ with the sleeping apartments engaged by Lady Esmondet,
coming forward, hands a telegram.
"This has just arrived, your ladyship; any answer, your ladyship?"
"No; it merely states they have left by one of the new lines."
"We are looking for one to come in very shortly, your ladyship."
"That is convenient; it will allow of their dressing and dining with
comfort; and, boy, see that their rooms are warm and lighted."
"Will it please your ladyship to dine here, or at the _table d'hote_?"
"Here the room is large, warm, and will answer our purpose very well."
"Yes, your ladyship."
"How delightful, Vaura dear, that we shall not be detained, but can
leave on to-morrow."
"Yes, godmother darling, the fates have golden threads on their
distaff for you and I to-day."
"I trust your uncle will not deny me," said Lady Esmondet, a little
absently; "if so, I shall feel doubly lonely just now."
"He has married a wife; therefore cannot refuse to lend me to you
until we both go to Haughton Hall hand in hand; do not think for one
moment that I shall allow you to go alone to Italy."
"You belong to your uncle as well as to me, dear."
"Yes," she said, slowly; "how much I wish," and she was beside her
godmother caressing the smooth bands of fair hair; "how I wish you and
he had had enough of love between you to blend your lives in one."
"Do not even think of what now is an impossibility, dear," she
answered hurriedly and evasively, while a faint flush came to her
cheek as she pressed her hand to her side.
"Ah, poor darling," thought Vaura, "she cared for him;" and with a
latent sympathy she said tenderly: "How oft in one's journey through
life one closes one's eyes to the shimmer of sunbeams on the grand,
majestic ocean, or the calm and peaceful lake; only opening them to
the glare of the gas-light, the song of the night bird."
"How often, indeed," said her godmother, sadly; "but by the prancing
of steeds in the court yard," she continued, smiling bravely, "one
must conclude the steamer has arrived."
"'Tis well one can don society's mask at will," said Vaura.
"Yes, dear, and 'tis quite unnecessary to bare one's heart to the
million," she answered, with her usual composure. "You are looking
charming, dear; that seal-brown velvet fits you exquisitely."
"Worth says I am curves, not angles," said Vaura, gaily; "he says he
would prefer to fit a grasshopper, _a la mode_, than many women who
pine for his scissors."
"You should always bare your arm to the elbow; the shape is perfect,
and your old gold jewelry blends both with the warm brown of your gown
and the roses and lace at your throat. I wonder a little what Mrs.
Haughton, how strange it sounds, but one grows accustomed to,
anything, I wonder what your uncle's wife will think of you."
"It matters not," replied Vaura, her beautiful head erect. "I know she
is no fit mate for a Haughton and an innate feeling causes me to wish
most fervently that she, with the golden dollar bequeathed to her, had
never set foot on proud Albion's shores."
"They are in the corridor, dear; make the best of her for your dear
uncle's sake," said her god-mother, breathlessly.
"Do not fear for me, dear godmother, especially as poor misguided
uncle has wed so that I forsooth, shall find in Haughton Hall a
fitting home, and yet, I, above all, should not speak in such tone,
our race are capable of a noble self abnegation, even I at fourteen,
but I dream aloud, dear godmother, forgive me."
"Surely, dear, with me alone, you may think audibly."
In a few minutes during which Vaura's eyes idly rest on the last beams
of the western sun as they kiss the soft bands of hair and bring out
the mauve tints in the rich satin robe of her now silent companion,
when the door is opened wide, by a page admitting Col. and Mrs.
Haughton, with Miss Tompkins, followed by Sir Tilton Everly.
"My dear friend and darling Vaura, how glad, glad I am to see you
both; you give the place quite a home look; Mrs. Haughton, Lady
Esmondet and my niece Vaura, and here is my wife's step-daughter, Miss
Tompkins, a devotee of the American Eagle, and Sir Tilton Everly."
"I should say so," said Blanche, "our Eagle would make short work of
the furs of your Lion and not lose a feather."
"He would first be obliged to turn dentist and claw-remover, Miss
Tompkins," said Vaura merrily.
"Miss Vernon," said Mrs. Haughton stiffly, "allow me even thus early
in our acquaintance to make a request of you which is that you ignore
the odious sirname of my step-daughter, simply calling her Blanche."
"Certainly, Mrs. Haughton, though it is out of order, if your
step-daughter also wishes it."
"Oh yes, it don't make five cents difference, Miss Vernon; popa had to
give up Annabella Elizabeth my real name; Mrs. T. didn't take to it,
she only took Tompkins because it was set in diamonds."
This was said with the most child-like expression on the wee white
face, but one could detect venom in the tone of voice. For answer
there was a frown and an impatient stamp of foot as her step-mother
says coldly.
"Lady Esmondet will excuse us, Blanche, while we change our travelling
dresses."
"Certainly."
Sir Tilton flew to open the door; the Colonel seeing them to their
appartments, and their maids in attendance, returned to the loving
rest of his home birds.
"Well, uncle dear, how do you feel after your run to and fro?" said
Vaura, affectionately, and going behind his chair, drew his head
backwards, kissing his face in welcome.
"Passing well, dear; here, take this chair beside me, and let me look
at you; the Scotch lakes and sea-bathing have agreed with you, and
with Lady Alice also," he added kindly.
"Eric, what did you think of New York," enquired Lady Esmondet, to
divert his attention from her personally.
"Oh, it is just a large handsome city, with cosmopolitan cut in its
very corner store, representing much wealth in its many fine
buildings; there is a good deal of taste displayed in its burying
grounds, and parks, and nearly all has a look of rapid growth about
it, so different to our London."
"As our old slow-growing Oak in comparison with their Pines," said
Vaura; "and what of the people generally?"
"Just what we know them to be, dear, full of energy and active life;
sleeping never, I do believe, or if so, with eyes open."
"So full of mercury that it tires one even to think of them," said
Vaura lazily.
"A great people though, Miss Vernon; strongly imbued with the spirit
of the age, Progress," said Sir Tilton, who, from his corner, had
never withdrawn his gaze from Vaura's face since the exit of the other
ladies.
"True; but what a spirit of unrest is Progress, always flying, only
resting on the wing to scatter to the winds a something new, to take
the place of the old," said Vaura, thoughtfully.
"But, Vaura, dear," said Lady Esmondet, "it is astonishing how
comfortably we _en masse_ keep pace with your flying spirit, eager to
pick up its novelties."
"True, ladies, and elbow each other in the race," said Sir Tilton.
"I know I am old-fashioned," remarked the Colonel, a little sadly;
"but our life of to-day does not come up to my ideal, as when a
soldier on furlough I used to return to my dear old home; there, if
anywhere on this lower sphere, peace and happiness reigned."
"You may well say so, Eric, with your noble father, sainted mother,
and Vaura's mother, my dear friend, your sweet sister, Ethel, as
inmates;" and in that instant their eyes met, full of sympathy. And be
it what it may, an electric spark, the true speech of heart to heart,
or what; the knowledge came to him for the first time of what he had
lost, and a nervous tremor ran through him such as he had never felt
at Delhi or Inkerman under shell or rifle fire. And the woman who had
been too proud to show her love unasked, did not know whether she was
glad or sorry that he had at last tasted of the tree of knowledge.
Mason here threw open the door for her mistress and Miss Tompkins, who
enter, both having made elaborate toilets, the former in a gown of
rose pink brocade, the latter wearing sky-blue silk, each lavish in
their display of jewels.
"Dressed before you, after all, Miss Vernon," cried Mrs. Haughton,
with latent malice. Even small Sir Tilton raised his eyebrows; for one
moment Vaura was non-plussed; "underbred poor uncle," was her thought
as she said quietly: "I have dined in salons at Brighton in this gown,
Mrs. Haughton; I have listened to Patti robed as you see me."
"How mean of step-momma," thought Blanche.
"Never saw anyone to compare with her," thought the little baronet.
"Is it possible, Miss Vernon? You must excuse me, but I really thought
it your travelling dress."
Waiters were now busy with the dining table at the end of the room,
partially separated by folding doors; tempting _entrees_, steaming
dishes, with delicious dainties, are now arranged.
"Surely, we dine at the _table d'hote_," said Mrs. Haughton, hastily;
"you should have seen to it, Colonel; you know I prefer it."
"Pardon, Kate; I was unaware of this arrangement, dear."
"I am the culprit, Mrs. Haughton," said Lady Esmondet. "I thought we
should all be warmer here; the air is chilly this evening."
"Oh, certainly, as you wish it; only when I take the trouble to dress
for the _table d'hote_, I like to be seen," she answered, stiffly;
"but we go to the theatre afterwards; and now, Sir Tilton, your arm."
And clearing her brow, she seats herself at table, her husband
opposite, with his friend on his right.
"You have no hotels at London to compare with ours of New York city,
Lady Esmondet," she said.
"You have, Mrs. Haughton, I believe, the verdict of the majority of
the travelling public with you; though I have found the Langham, and
others among our leading hotels, most comfortable."
"The difference between our system and theirs," said the Colonel, "is
that ours savor of the British home, in the being chary of whom we
admit, and a trifle pompous; while the French and Americans, as a
people, are better adapted to make hotel life a pleasant success."
"Because you are too awfully too, and we are free and easy; that's
what's the matter," said Blanche.
"Also," said Vaura, "the hotel and American are both of to-day."
"You havn't given us the newest London scandal, Sir Tilton," said Mrs.
Haughton, thinking of her plot.
"Political or social?" he asked, somewhat guardedly.
"Social, of course; I don't care a fig for the country."
"Well, to lead off with, the pretty Miss Fitz-Clayton, who was to have
married Lord Menton, instead fell in love with her pater's tallest
footman; and on her fortune they have been cooing all summer at the
Cap de Juan; next," he hurriedly said, "Capt. Trevalyon's hidden wife
is on; last, two separations and a new beauty."
There was a moment's pause, each thinking of Trevalyon, when Vaura
said carelessly, to cover her quickened heart-beats:
"Here he comes, with his mouth full of news."
"This story about Trevalyon is a lie direct, Everly," said the
Colonel, hastily.
"Dare say, Haughton."
"The prettiest bit of your news, Sir Tilton, is Cap de Juan," said
Vaura, apparently absorbed in the delicacies on her plate; but
thinking, "can it be true of the ideal knight of my childhood."
"Poor Lionel, how disgusted he will be," said Lady Esmondet, wearily.
"Still, men do do such things; why not he?" said Mrs. Haughton,
daringly; "and after all, as none of us are going to marry him, we
need not care."
"One feels for one's friends when maligned, that is all," said Vaura,
carelessly.
"Well, supposing it be false," continued Mrs. Haughton, with morbid
curiosity, watching the beautiful, expressive face of her
rival--"which I don't believe, how could he clear himself?"
"I cannot say, Mrs. Haughton; it would be easier to name an antidote
for the sting of the snake than for the tongue of Dame Rumour."
"All I can say is, I believe it," said Mrs. Haughton, aggressively;
"he is handsome enough to have induced more than one woman to make a
clandestine marriage with him."
"I regret to hear you say so, Kate," said her husband, gravely.
"Mrs. Haughton is to be excused, Eric; she does not know Lionel as we
do."
"The animal man is the same everywhere," continued Madame, recklessly.
"The serious trouble I see in it for Capt. Trevalyon," said Lady
Esmondet, "is, that did he contemplate matrimony, this scandal afloat
would be a barrier to his union."
"If he were not so careless, he could stamp it out at once," said the
Colonel, impatiently. But he is careless, and Mrs. Haughton exults as
she remembers it, and at the success of her plot; for does not Lady
Esmondet admit it would be a bar to his union; she feels a morbid
pleasure in noting critically the varied charms of her rival, as an
innate feeling tells her Miss Vernon might become; and she thinks:
"For you he scorned my love; pride, though you die, will keep you
apart; he will come to me yet."