WEE DETECTIVE PLAYS A WINNING CARD.
From the time Fanny Clarmont has appeared like a ghost of the
departed, Delrose determined to get rid of the bother of it all by
going at once to Rose Cottage; the huntress to whom he had been
engaged for the first dance he handed over to Tedril. He would write
Kate from the cottage, but first, he would punish her for torturing
him, by lingering with Trevalyon and giving her smiles to Lord Rivers,
by a public little speech as to his leave-taking, and keep her
preoccupied by his avowal as to who was to accompany him, (she knowing
naught of their relationship) as to give her no taste for flirtation.
(Simple Simon could not read her, she is a woman!)
"It is now nearly eleven o'clock, I shall keep her in suspense for
half an hour or so, then she is mine. Gad! I have won a prize, a
fierce, passionate, untamable, flesh-and-blood beauty, full of love or
full of hate, strong in body, mind and appetite; and she does care for
my devotion, we were born for each other; what a life we shall have,
thank fate I never was foolish enough to throw myself away on that
little, timid, shrinking, silly Fanny Clarmont," and he leaped and ran
to Rose Cottage, some times with a loud laugh, startling the night
birds, as he thought of the woman and her gold.
Kate had shivered as with a chill at Delrose's words, when Lord Rivers
had said:
"Come and take a glass of something warm, you have been standing too
long."
"You are kind," she said, recovering herself, "it gives one a chill to
lose two men in one night; yes, thank you, a glass of champagne,
t'will be a more pleasant sensation than the three brides, but let
them beware; I shall have their husbands at my feet again; and now for
the dance."
"I shall make you forget them."
"You may."
"A deserted room; a dim, religious light; a female form too tempting
to resist," he said, lazily, and in her ear.
"Well," said Kate, drooping her eyelids, knowing what the result of
this speech would be.
"Well, my charmer," and the kiss and embrace were given.
"You naughty man, but I do really need some extra support for my
spinal column, and it's awfully pleasant, but dear Grundy won't allow
it, so we must wait for our waltz."
And the pair hurried along the corridors and took their places at the
head of the room, and the ball was opened.
Col. Haughton, as we are aware, had demanded an explanation of the
words of Blanche from Sir Tilton. The rooms had been deserted, save by
those to whom a dish of gossip was as the essence of life, and who now
listened with itching ears to Sir Tilton's reply, while they tried to
remember the extent of the eccentric little bride's wealth. Whether
she would buy a house in town; nearly all deciding that they would
patronize or cultivate her.
"She is _outree_ and bad form, but she has the dollar and she'll be
game for those who havn't," said a London beau to Chancer, who hadn't
gone to the ball-room, but was eating his heart out in feverish
impatience for his waltz (the third dance on the programme) with
Vaura.
"Sorry you didn't like it, Colonel, but Blanche would have our
marriage private." He did not add that he said no word to dissuade
her; as the Jews would have none of him, and his friends had buttoned
up their pockets telling him "to wipe out old scores first."
As it was, wife, trip, special license and all that had cost him not a
_sou_, except the ring, and his freedom, which he considered ample
equivalent.
"Yes; it's all my fault, Colonel; but you are too awfully nice to be
angry with a bride, you know; and besides," she added in a stage
whisper, the pink eyes peering about, a childish look of anxiety
coming to the wee white face, as if to protect herself against
listeners who would carry her words to Madame in reality; aching to
see some of her step-mother's pets within earshot, to be sure her
words would carry.
Fire away, little one, 'tis an ancient war you are waging of woman
_versus_ woman; make your bullets; many are by who will pelt with true
aim.
"And besides, Colonel, Mrs. Haughton is so fond of Sir Tilton she
would never, no, never, have let me have him, so I let him make love
to her up to the very last, and she--"
At this juncture Colonel Haughton, whose nerves were terribly
unstrung, breathed an inward blessing upon Lady Esmondet, who, laying
her hand on the shoulder of the little one, said, "Tell us where you
were married, dear?"
"Oh, that's all square; at St. Alban's yesterday at Matins; but it was
an awful pity; scarcely anyone saw us. Guess it's legal though, eh,
Tilton?"
"When did you leave Haughton Hall, Everly?" inquired his host, almost
fearing some indiscretion would be brought to light.
"Yesterday, a.m., first train; took carriage for St. Albans; Blanche
telephoned for suite of apartments at hotel; left London to-day; so
here we are again."
The absence of his hostess and Vaura, also the look of respect in the
faces of his creditors all gave the little baronet courage to speak.
"Show me the marriage certificate, Everly. Ah, that's right, and I
congratulate you both; Blanche is her own mistress, and--"
"And, Lady Everly, don't give up the situation to anybody," a comical
look of importance on the wee face. Any men in the rooms who had the
haziest knowledge of the little man about town, now swarmed small
Everly with congratulations on his golden future, excepting Tisdale
Pollard, M.P., who did not care to have his debt paid by Everly from
the pocket of Blanche. But he must not forget himself; he will console
himself with the Tottenham money bags; so giving his arm to Cecilia,
bosom friend of Blanche, they join the group; the Tottenham pouting.
"What's the matter, Cis?" cried Blanche. "You have a greenery yellowy
look, and remind me of Bunthorn and the forlorn maidens all rolled up
together and sent in by parcel post."
"If I do, it's your fault, Blanche, and you are extremely unkind," she
said, tearfully. "You know you promised only the other day that when
you were married I should be first bridesmaid and choose my own frock,
and I did, and it just suited my complexion, especially in church,
with the lights from the stained windows upon it. I just dreamed of it
night and day; it's really too disappointing!"
"Is that all, Cis? I might as well cry because my pug is a shade
lighter than my new winter costume I ordered to match his coat. Don't
cry and you shall have a chair in my boudoir just to suit your
complexion (for I am going to buy an awfully nice town house)."
"Might have said we," thought her husband, but he swelled himself like
Froggie in the fable.
"Now, Cis," continued _la petite_, "isn't that a nice sugar plum for
you?"
"Sugar plum for me!" said Stuart, who thoroughly enjoyed a bit of
chaff with wee Blanche, "Sugar plum for me! Think I require one to
console me for Sir Tilton running off with you?"
"You're too big a humbug to get any from me, Mr. Stuart. Barnum's
umbrella wouldn't begin to take you in; if you try and be a good young
man, perhaps you'll get one over there," she added irreverently.
"Why, that's in the direction of Mrs. Haughton's boudoir, you very
naughty girl," laughed Stuart. "I wonder if I would, though; I must
find some one to sympathise with."
"Bunthorn again," laughed Mrs. Wingfield; "you had better apply for
the vacant footstool."
"Never get a softer seat, Stuart," said small Everly, looking as
important as the lords of the Berlin treaty.
"I'm too awfully too ashamed of you, Baronet," said his bride. "You're
as demoralized as all the New York theatres rolled in one."
"Lady Everly," said Stuart, solemnly and consulting his tablets, "I am
aware of your weakness for small people," with a side glance, "small
plots and puzzles. Read this one for me, please: where am I to find
Miss Tompkins, to whom I am engaged for this dance?"
"Guess you'll have to put up with Lady Everly," she said, saucily.
"You don't care to go to the ball room yet, Alice; we have so much to
say," said Col. Haughton, bending down to the sweet, calm face looking
up to his so earnestly, and marking the deepening lines of care and
unrest.
"No, Eric; sit down beside me, you look weary; I have seen so little
of you of late."
"And the guests come and go or talk in groups of this night of
sensation; or in these luxurious soft-lighted _salons_, give
themselves up to the delicious intoxication of some loved presence.
How many a passionate heart throb, how many sweet pains are engendered
in one's heart, how many sighs given and returned, what tender
passages on such nights! And what would a ball be without this
undercurrent of what we call flirtation; in reality, this yearning for
the one in the multitude.
"Why, Chancer, what's come to you, man? You remind one of a spirit in
Elysian fields in search of its mate," said Stuart, as he strolled
about with Lady Everly on his arm.
"Pretty scene, Chancer," said Lord Rivers, lazily, and stationing
himself in the curtained entrance to look out for some one to kill
time with until his hostess is his own again. "Fine show of arm and
neck there; pretty woman that; ah, there's an ankle; trust them, they
all know their good points. Fine pair of eyes; there's a neck for you;
but what's the matter with you, man, now I come to look at you you
wear a lost look; is it Fate, Fortune, or one of the Graces?"
"The three in one, Rivers," he said with a half-laugh.
"Did you say you had lost some one, Capt. Chancer? Perhaps I can tell
you; I know every nook and corner in the hall," said the Meltonbury,
insinuatingly, coming from the other side of the curtains, where she
had ensconced herself to watch for the return of Madame on hearing
Lady Everly's speech in the stage whisper.
"How angry the dear thing will be," she thought importantly, "when I
tell her." And now in her character of social astronomer she levels
her glass at Chancer.
"Oh, thank you, I shall be so obliged," he said eagerly; "I am in
search of Miss Vernon; our waltz is on."
"So! so! no wonder you are eager," but Chancer is out of hearing, so
swiftly has he followed Mrs. Meltonbury to the boudoir of Madame.
"An armful, seductive enough for Epicurus himself," thought Lord
Rivers; "and so is my superb hostess, full of fire and great go; the
Colonel is too quiet to master her; wonder what attracted them; gad!
what a different linking there would be if all existing marriages were
somehow declared null and void. Kate Haughton and Vaura Vernon would
be the most powerful magnets at London; even as it is, they will.
Clarmont will be rather surprised to hear that Delrose was the partner
of the fair Fan's flight; gad! he managed that well; Trevalyon is so
devilish handsome and _distingue_, I wonder Delrose won; but I forget,
Trevalyon had no _penchant_ that way; believe he has for the fair
Vernon though; who wouldn't? If she tell him yea, I wonder what sort
of a married woman she will develop into; they say she is perilously
seductive and fascinating; but my charmer said she'd have an ice
quietly with me in her boudoir, at a quarter to eleven; it's that now;
splendid eyes she has, and what a shoulder and arm! but, ah! this
won't do; I must look after my interests."
And the lazy epicurean musings give place to eager activeness on
seeing in the distance the trailing red satin skirts of Madame; her
fine arm in its whiteness resting on the black coat sleeve of Capt.
Chancer.