A Heart-Song of To-day Part 13

"No; the play is not to my taste; Shakespeare is heavy."

"Heresy, heresy!" exclaimed Vaura; "surely, Mrs. Haughton, you don't condemn, 'As you like it,' 'Much ado about nothing,' and the bill for to-night--and with brilliant Neilson! for their heaviness--I doubt if Rosalind, Beatrice, or Viola would agree with you, unless it be Viola, who may have found the Duke; so, thank Fate, our lovers are more quick witted."

"I should have jilted him, at once and for ever!" cried Mrs. Haughton.

"One would think the keen eye of love could have penetrated her disguise," said Mrs. Haughton.

"Especially in pleading the love of an imaginary sister," said Vaura; "our men would have suggested making love to the lips that were by."

"All I have to say is," said Mrs. Haughton, suppressing a yawn, "that the way the Duke went a wooing would never have suited me; I like a man with a spice of boldness in his love-making; a sort of stand and deliver fellow."

"Who would not take no," said the Colonel.

"Yes, not like the poor victimised Quakeress we hear of; a man looked her way for seven years, then said grace before he took the first kiss."

"What an abstainer," laughed her husband; "as for the lazy Duke, he should have stormed the castle and ran off with Viola."

"After which, I should have wished him a good night's rest; as I do all and each of you," said Lady Esmondet, rising, and moving towards the door.

"Not a bad idea," echoed the Colonel, "as we leave for Surrey in the morning, that is, if you can manage the early, Kate?"

"Yes, though rising early is a relic of serfdom, still it is better than vegetating here all day."

"Thank you;" turning wistfully to Vaura, he continues--

"I am really sorry you are not going with us, dear; but, promise me, Alice, that you will both be with us for the ball and Christmas festivities?"

"It's a long look till Christmas, Eric; but, should the 'miscreator circ.u.mstance' not prevent; consider us with you; and, now good-night, you, and all; and a restful sleep."

"Good night, everyone," said Vaura, "pleasant dreams; my own dear uncle, good night," and with a soft, white hand on each cheek, her beautiful face is turned upwards for his kiss.

"Blanche, you little gambler, away with you," said her step-mother.

"Good night, Sir Tilton, think it over: and what merriment you will miss, and of how I shall miss you, if you don't come down with us."

"Don't think it possible just yet, but first day I can; with thanks, yours, good night."

And now the small baronet alone, and not yet inclined for rest, throws himself back in an easy chair, his hands in his pockets, and shoulders in his ears, thinks himself into such a deep thought that the clock striking two causes him to start.

"So late," he murmured, mechanically winding his watch. "What a reverie I have been in! three-quarters of an hour since they left me!

Ah, Tilton, this wandering will never do, one cannot have everything, and the other one is true, and makes sure of me. What a ripe, rare loveliness; tut, tut, keep your eyes from her, my boy."

And he, too, has gone to the quiet of his chamber and leaves the room to silence and gloom, save for the fitful gleam of an expiring coal in the grate.

CHAPTER XI.

ON THE WING.

The G.o.d of slumber did not long hold sway over the senses of our friends, but even so, time, the relentless, striding ever along, did not leave them any spare minutes. Breakfasting at nine, with the exception of Lady Esmondet, and Mrs. Haughton, who partook of their first meal in their own apartments, the one being rather delicate, the other accustomed to indulge the body; all were more or less eagerly active; poor Lady Esmondet in sympathy with her old love, each now thinking by change, to divert the mind from the might have been; Mrs.

Haughton loved the prospect of her throne at the Hall, and of daily wooing the love of her idol to be domesticated there. Blanche, the wee white mouse, longed for the greater freedom to be alone, or to play detective over others, that a large estate would give her.

Everly just now had so many conflicting emotions he scarcely knew which was uppermost. As for Vaura, she looked forward with intense pleasure to a lengthened sojourn in the immortal city; knowing life at Haughton under the present _regime_ would be distasteful to her.

"The gentleman from London, my lady," said Somers, entering and presenting the card of Mr. Huntingdon.

"Very well; he is, I suppose, in our sitting room?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Now, Vaura, _ma chere_, take flight to Poppingay's, and bring your maid, who can carry my parcels. You will find what I require at his shop. I am so glad to know you are with me for some time, dear."

"_Au revoir!_ I shall be fleet as a deer."

Now Lady Esmondet, turning her steps in the direction of the Haughton apartments, entering, said:

"I have come to wish you _bon voyage_; my lawyer is here; I know there will be a general exodus of you all soon, while I am closeted with him--he is a little bit of a tyrant and cross as a bear, if interrupted."

"A man would be a bear if he could be cross to you, Alice," said Col.

Haughton, noting, regretfully, how delicate she looked.

"So that he does not give me a bear's hug, I shall survive it."

"It would be very pleasant this raw morning. Farewell, Lady Esmondet, a gay trip to you," said Mrs. Haughton.

"Good-bye, Alice," and her hand is held tightly; "take care of yourself; I know you will of Vaura. Remember Christmas at Haughton."

"Farewell, Eric; I shall not forget," and the blue eyes met his kindly.

"Awful fuss you make over that woman, Colonel."

"She is a very old friend, Kate."

"Yes, I know, and as cold and polished as your grand-mother's diamonds. If she does respond to your warm invite, she will freeze us all, so we shall have to use all the timber to thaw out."

"You do not know her yet, dear."

Vaura only returned in time to say a few hurried words of parting. The carriage in which Mrs. Haughton and Blanche are seated is waiting her uncle at the door, watch in hand.

"Only a minute, and we are off," he cried, on seeing Vaura and her maid appear. "G.o.d bless you, darling; good-bye, good-bye," he said, kissing her affectionately; "do not fall in love with any Italian, I want you to marry at home."

"Not even Garibaldi," said Vaura archly, though a tear glistened.

"Just fancy my home, a lone isle of the sea. Good-bye, dear uncle; take good care of him, Mrs. Haughton. Good-bye, Blanche; there is a mine of pleasure in store for you at Haughton; _bon voyage_ all."

"She is lovely enough to win even Garibaldi from thoughts of Italy, past and present," said her uncle, lovingly.