A Heart-Song of To-day Part 60

"It has, Lion; and now I must tell you of an episode in my life in days of yore, in which poor Guy Travers took a prominent part. Poor fellow, he is dead, and, perhaps, as the poet hath it, sees me 'with larger other eyes,'" and a slight pallor comes to the sweet face.

"Thank G.o.d, he has taken him, darling, whatever it is you have to tell me; for it is not cruel in me to say so, as had you loved him you would have wed, and had he lived he would have eaten his heart out in loneliness, for I have been told he loved you. Say on, my own, though I care not to know, save that you wish to speak. I am in a perfect rapture of bliss, and shall listen, if only to hear your voice, the sweetest music I have ever known."

"You will remember, Lion, when I was about fifteen, you came here from the east, expecting to meet uncle Eric. But, alas! as you are aware, he was held in the fascinations at Baden-Baden, with debts acc.u.mulating, the place going to ruin. He wrote saying, unless he married money he would have to shut up the Hall, but for my sake he was willing to enter an unloved alliance. Ah, how long ago these days seem; and now, in this rest, dearest, pillowed so, I almost lose myself in the dear present."

"Do, love, forget all about the past, tell me no more."

"I must, and in a few words, for, hark! the clocks tell the last quarter before midnight, Blanche, whom we have forgotten, will be with us, and so, to hasten; you left me sorrowfully to go to him and see what could be done. Poor Guy was guest of the Douglas family. You are perhaps aware that from Guy's French mother came all their wealth; but, to hasten, Guy was nearly eighteen, a handsome boy, and in love with my child self. I liked him, as I did Roland Douglas, though I can never remember the time, darling, that those magnetic eyes of yours and dear, kind face didn't haunt me. Guy never left my side, and Roland being of same mind there were many battles over the proprietors.h.i.+p of my small person. At last Gay triumphed, in this wise; I had confided my troubles to him, when he persuaded me to elope (nay, don't start, darling, 'twas only a two days' trip), in this, way (as he said) I would be a heroine, and save the Hall for my dear uncle, else he would wed for my sake some _outree_ manufacturer's daughter and make himself wretched in a _mesalliance_. I could _save_ my uncle. What joy! With no thought of self we went to Gretna Green and were married, and not by the blacksmith, but by a dissenting clergyman; the next day we, as conquering heroes, were on our return to the Hall, when Guy's mother, with Uncle Eric, to whom she had telegraphed, met us, not with smiles, but frowns. In short, dearest, our marriage was declared null and void. Guy's mother, whom it appeared, wished him on coming of age to wed a Parisian heiress, declared she would stop his allowance, but, as a matter of course, with no legal tie binding us, we were again in our old position. And so my dream to free Haughton was frustrated by a woman, but, oh, Lion, my love, for my eventual good; for try as I have I could never have given my woman heart to poor Guy. He loved me throughout his life, and with wealth poured his all at my feet. But no more, dearest, I hear Blanche."

"How wretched the poor fellow must have been, beloved; and how blest am I."

"Hush, dear, here they are;" and Vaura is at one of the windows as Everly says:

"Here we are again."

"Guess you're just about tired out waiting; but I see you hav'nt been here long enough to read this," said the white mouse, taking a card from a stand; "it says 'if you miss supper, down stairs.'"

"Here it is, Blanche, all right."

"We were, I suppose, to rise to it," said Vaura.

"And something worth mounting for, and not to be sneezed at either,"

cried Lady Everly, as her husband rolled a small table from a recess.

"If this is the picnic you promised us, Blanche, commend me to your choice of dishes," said Vaura, inwardly hoping nothing unpleasant would transpire relative to Mrs. Haughton.

"And now that we are comfortably placed," said Blanche, excusing herself to fly to the window giving a view of Rose Cottage. "Now," she said cheerfully, "we shall each propose a toast; mine being, success to the plans and plots of this evening."

"Amen," said Trevalyon, thinking of Vaura and himself.

"Excepting one," said Vaura earnestly.

"Excepting one!" echoed Everly.

"No, I shan't be left," cried Blanche quickly, and in a low tone to her spouse, "you cannot refer to the one we are here to witness."

There was no reply.

"Miss Vernon, your exception has nothing to do with Mrs. Haughton?"

continued _la pet.i.te_ inquiringly.

"It has; but I am imaginative; tell me, did Mrs. Haughton appear in the supper-room?"

"I should just say so, and as gay as a lark, with Lord Rivers."

"But, Blanche, you know you only looked in, and Mrs. Haughton may have done likewise."

"You're a goose, Tilton; Capt. Stuart and I had gone through a dish or two before you all came in; I was born hungry."

"Believe you," laughed her husband.

"My poppa's pet name for me at dinner was ostrich," said wee mouse, rapidly discussing breast and wing of duck, etc. "Sir Lionel, here's a conundrum for you; what is the thirstiest animal?"

"Man," he answered demurely.

"One for you; you are placed, Tilton," and the pink eyes peered at a window.

"I hope you feel comfortable in your niche, Sir Tilton," laughed Vaura; "ask another, Blanche, and place Mrs. Haughton _a present_; I cannot get her off my mind."

"All O.K.; I only have waited until you had refreshed the inner man."

"Women never eat," said Vaura, with an amused glance at the little one.

"One didn't just now," said the small Baronet.

"How observant you are, Tilton; and now for Mrs. Haughton, did she remain long in the supper-room, Baronet?"

"No, she excused herself just as you and Stuart made your exit; one plea, finger hurt; some point of her jewellery entered."

"Which she made a point of and didn't return, eh?"

"No."

"Excuse me," she said quickly, and going to a window giving an open view down into Rose Cottage, and throwing the heavy curtains behind her; the windows of the cottage being all aglow with lights, the interior of parlour and dining-room could be distinctly seen.

"Sir Lionel, come quick! look over there," she cried, giving him the field-gla.s.s.

"Great heavens, what does it mean?" he exclaimed. "Move, Blanche, Lion, one of you, and make room for me quick," cried Vaura, breathlessly.

"No, darling; you had better stay where you are," he said excitedly, forgetting at such a time their companions were ignorant of their engagement.

"Poor Haughton, surely, Lady Everly, you do not consider yonder scene a fitting subject to make game of?"

"Yes and no; if you knew how the poor dear Colonel has been sold, and my poppa before him, you'd say 'tis best. She has been too many for them; yes, it's better ended by an elopement."

"Then my worst fears are realized; and their words were no idle seeming, as I half hoped," said Vaura in quick, nervous tones. "You may as well gratify me, Lion dear, by giving me a glance at how a blot is put upon the escutcheon of a heretofore stainless name," she said despairingly, yet haughtily.

"It will be too much for you, darling; let me take you down stairs; I must go to poor Haughton. We should prevent this."

"You can't and I am glad; I've known it for hours, but I wouldn't let any one know; if you stop them now, what do you gain?"

"Quite a scandal," said small Everly, regretfully, for Vaura's sake, whom, as she stands helpless to prevent, wis.h.i.+ng to fly to her uncle, yet dreading the scandal, shall fall without warning, and the house full of guests, upon his dear head. In proud despair she looks pleadingly at Lionel for sympathy, and Everly, his heart beating, longs to do something for her.

"Can I help you in any way, dear Miss Vernon? Shall I ring the great alarm bell, rouse the village and the Hall. Only let me be of use to you," he says hurriedly.

"I thank you, Sir Tilton, make room for me at the window. Ah, heavens!

It is too true. Go down at once, Lion. Though I don't know for what, still go. But don't go near that man, darling; tell Mr. Claxton and the old butler, as well as my uncle's man; see what they say," she cried, breathlessly.

"I cannot bear to leave you, love; will you be brave?"