A Heart-Song of To-day Part 22

"But Haughton is right about the field, Everly," said Trevalyon; "one requires other experience than the Row."

"Better not curb her, though," answered Everly sagely.

"She thinks it as easy to run down the hare as the men; but the hare wants other bait than gold," said Lady Esmondet.

"So do we," said Bertram, decidedly.

"Yes, I do not think by any means that men, as a rule, are sordid."

"Before I met Eustace," said Mrs. Wingfield, "I made up my mind only to marry a horsey man, to make sure of one common interest, which there is often an absence of."

"Mrs. Wingfield! Mrs. Wingfield!" cried Bertram.

"Mr. Bertram! Mr. Bertram! were you a benedict, you would say my forethought was sweetly touching."

"And here have I, a lonely bachelor," he continued; "been regretting the non-existence of my Madame Bertram, though none could grace the head of my table better than the lady now seated there."

"_Merci_," said Lady Esmondet, "you are such a host in yourself that you leave us nothing to regret in the absence of Mrs. Bertram."

"Why," said Trevalyon sadly, in a low tone to Vaura; "why, will we continually make a jest over those poor creatures unequally yoked together."

"Very frequently, I think," she said softly, "to hide a deeper feeling; though it hurts us painfully to do so."

"I vow I'd rather be a jolly old bachelor like Mr. Bertram, with plenty of money, than husband to the Queen of Sheba, were she not defunct," exclaimed Mrs. Wingfield.

"What a boon to men and society is a woman without marriageable daughters," laughed Vaura.

"Yes," said Everly; "she can air her private opinions on the marriage question."

"With the right one, what a restful paradise it would be," said Trevalyon to Vaura's ear alone. And there was such a weariness in his tone, that she gave him one swift sympathetic glance; for in spite of herself her heartstrings were stirred, but she must not give way, so says lightly, as following Lady Esmondet's signal, they leave the table, the gentlemen refusing to linger:

"To say 'marriage' under _any_ circ.u.mstances to be 'bliss,' is rank heresy to your well-known views; but I understand your present impulse is engendered by seeing our dear friend playing hostess."

"Not so altogether; you also are near," and her arm is involuntarily pressed to his side.

"Well, ladies fair and gallants gay," said Mr. Bertram, as he found a comfortable lounging chair for Lady Esmondet, "we have just time for a cup of coffee and a cigarette, ere we roll away in a _carrosse_ to the Theatre Francais."

"To the theatre!" exclaimed Trevalyon; "I was not aware this was on the _tapis_ for this evening."

"Yes," said Lady Esmondet, "Mr. Bertram and I arranged it; M. Octave Feuillet's play, the "Sphynx," is on. I begin to think it was selfish on my part, you all look so comfortable; perhaps we had better abandon it."

"Put it to the vote," cried Mrs. Wingfield.

"And no bribery," echoed Vaura.

"I fear if it is put to the vote," said Lady Esmondet, "mine will be bought, by the beseeching look of Capt. Trevalyon, for a stay at home."

"See what it is to have an expressive face, Trevalyon," said Everly; "it has gained you one vote, in spite of the rule Miss Vernon made of no bribery."

"I thank you for your sympathy, Lady Esmondet; but I fear yours would be the only vote recorded in my favor, so the 'Sphynx' must needs make us her own."

"As she did many an unhappy mortal in days of yore, in her Theban home. I wonder if they looked as resigned in their martyrdom as poor Capt. Trevalyon does," said Vaura.

"I used to think Oedipus finished her," said Trevalyon.

"Only for his day," said Vaura; "'twas too long a look till Octave Feuillet; he should have asked Lynceus to give a glance."

"The Cyclops might have lent him an eye," said Bertram.

"Are you always as indifferent to the stars of the stage Captain?"

enquired Mrs. Wingfield, as she gently puffed away her delicate cigarette. "What Eustace would do without his distractions in that way, heaven only knows."

"He will outgrow it; most men have stage fever, as most babies have measles," he answered evasively.

"And now for our mantles and away," said Lady Esmondet, rising.

"And may the mantle of resignation fall on the shoulders of poor Capt.

Trevalyon," said Vaura, taking his offered arm, and as the hand leaning on his arm pressed closely, she said in low tones, "you had my unregistered vote."

"_Merci_," he said, pressing her hand.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THEATRE FRANCAIS.

They found the theatre crowded from pit to dome. And the advent of our little party, as they took possession of their box, caused no little sensation even in that galaxy of beauty and fas.h.i.+on.

"By the lilies of France," said a Parisian, putting up his gla.s.s; "though not the three graces, one of them is there."

"Yes, by the memory of Bonaparte, she is worth a long look," said his companion, gazing at Vaura.

And two of the occupants of Mr. Bertram's box were indulging much the same thought. Lionel's handsome face wore a warmer look than ordinarily, as he chatted to Vaura, leaning on the back of her chair.

"She has the vivacity of the French woman, with a beauty all her own,"

he thought. "Her voice holds me, and my love of the beautiful is satisfied, as I look on her sweet mouth and warm eyes; but, pshaw, she is a flirt, and I am almost in her toils! what is coming over me?" and he gave a start as he almost spoke the last thought aloud.

"Why, what is the matter Capt, Trevalyon?" asked Vaura; "you started just now as though you had seen a ghost of the departed; a moment ago you seemed to be enjoying the play, but now you look melancholy; go over to Mrs. Wingfield. You see, _cher ami_, you do not credit to my powers of pleasing; so avaunt. But," she added, "you may come back some other time."

"You deserve better company than I, just now, _ma belle_, and Everly is aching to be with you." And rising, he took the chair Everly vacated, near Mrs. Wingfield.

"What have you done to Trevalyon? Miss Vernon," said Everly, as he seated himself beside her. "In five minutes his expression changed from unclouded happiness to the blackness of despair; queer fellow to wear such a look beside you."

"What a flattering tongue is yours, Sir Tilton; but I shall not be astonished at any outpourings of that sort from you; considering you have come from Haughton Hall, and the practice you have had in soft nothings while there."