A Heart-Song of To-day Part 54

implored small Everly.

"Well, I guess perhaps I will," she said cunningly, not meaning to defer her intention for even an hour, "but you must do something for me then."

"Anything, anything," he cried eagerly.

"That's all O.K.; first, I must have surgeon Strange from the village double quick."

"Why, you are not ill! if so, Sir Andrew Clarke is--"

"I know he is at the Hall; don't interrupt me, he is too big a man for what I want; you must send one of the servants for Strange; I know he is to come to the ball, but if he hasn't come, fetch him right along; next, you are to be too awfully sweet for anything to Mrs. Haughton."

"Oh! Blanche, not too p.r.o.nounced. I owe half the men money and want to keep in the back ground."

"I'll pay them all off to-morrow."

"Well, I suppose I must; first, you want Strange, but you don't seem ill, too bad if you have to miss the dance."

"Oh, he'll fix me up in no time; there, _ta-ta_, you go that way to the stables; mind, right along to me, that will fetch him."

And the wee innocent-faced this time, white mouse is in the salons quicker than it takes to tell it, even though she had first paid a flying visit to the apartments of Mrs. Haughton. "Wonder if the Colonel will dream on the cake, or take to tragedy," was her mental e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n on what she saw there.

Just as she entered the drawing-rooms, Trevalyon, who had evidently had a word with Delrose, judging from the look of defiance on the face of the latter as he left his side, now walked up to Colonel Haughton, seated at the end of the rooms beside Lady Esmondet, with whom he had been conversing earnestly, and said:

"Haughton, dear friend, kindly ask your guests to give me their attention for a few minutes."

On the Colonel complying with his request, Trevalyon meanwhile glancing at the gems of art around him; behind him in a niche stood a statue of Venus smiling down upon the blind G.o.d who had been making a target of her breast in which were many arrows. Vaura giving him strength by being so near, what woman whom Lionel Trevalyon would love, but would be near him. Ah! heaven, thou hast given such bliss to a few of us, as makes us long for immortality.

But Lionel is about to speak; looking around him, a settled purpose in his handsome face, he said in his musical voice:

"One could not, even in one's dreams, picture a fairer garden of society's flowers as listeners, while one tells of a plot nourished by the sting of its wasp, and smiles of its beauteous b.u.t.terflies; each of our plots has its name, you all know the name of your last, you have given it to the _News_ and _Truth_, and have designated it 'Trevalyon's hidden wife;' while I have come to the conclusion that, here and now, I shall introduce the wife you have given me; her _entree_ and recital of how you have come to give her to me will be as fragrant spice to your dish of small talk, as you tread a measure in yonder ball-room."

On Trevalyon speaking of his purpose to introduce his 'hidden wife,'

Delrose, who seemed to have lost all control over himself, with muttered oath, left Mrs. Forester's side, and, with rapid strides, went down the room and seated himself behind a small sofa on which were seated Mrs. Haughton and Lord Rivers, seeming too comfortable, Delrose thought; overhearing Rivers say lazily, "I wish we lived in Utah," pressing the hand concealed in the folds of scarlet satin.

"I wonder how Lady Rivers would like me; as the last, the dearest one," had said Madame, her white teeth showing.

Lord Rivers gave her a side-long glance.

"There'd be the devil to pay," said Delrose, savagely, as he sank heavily into the chair behind them; folding his arms on the back of their sofa, and between them, and leaning forward.

"You look black enough to be his dun," said Lord Rivers, carelessly.

As Sir Lionel ceased speaking, a lady, in the garb of a cloistered nun, and closely veiled, had entered with slow, uncertain step; Sir Andrew Clarke, stepping forward, offered a seat, saying, "Allow me; you seem about to faint."

"No; I thank you," she said hurriedly, "I feel quite well again, with the exception of a slight dizziness."

But in a moment, Trevalyon is beside her, whose arm she quietly takes, while he led her up the long drawing rooms, the _cynosure_ of all eyes, giving her at the head of the room, an easy chair. At the first sound of the voice of the nun, Delrose had started violently, muttering,

"By thunder, her voice, but no! not from behind a nun's veil."

"Unveil the statue, Delrose," whispered Lord Rivers; for society was watching and listening with itching ears for more, and a pinfall could have been heard.

"Unveil her, she'll let you, if she have any charms to show," he continued lazily.

"My dear boy, do keep quiet; or perhaps you'd like to run away till the farce is over," said Madame, caressingly, for she has a _penchant_ for the peer beside her; he is a new distraction and will amuse her until she can secure a _tete-a-tete_ with the man who has some rare fascination for her, as Lionel Trevalyon has for many. But no, Delrose will not stir from beside the woman who has magnetised him for years.

And as he keeps his position, he mentally curses Lord Rivers for his temporary monopoly of her.

Trevalyon had stepped over to Vaura on pretence, or with the excuse of borrowing her fan for the nun, he not feeling strong enough to wait any longer for a pressure of the hand; as she turned her exquisite face upwards, oh, the torture that he could not take her to his heart; but, his "hidden wife," and all the eyes. But he managed while, as if learning how to open the fan and while the attention of Chancer was momentarily engaged, to whisper, "oh darling, this ordeal is too much, why did I not fly away with you."

"My own darling," was all her eyes and lips could silently frame. But his hand brushed her arm, and with a sweet pain from heart to heart, he went from her side strengthened for the fight.

"Shall I introduce you, sister, to Mrs. Haughton and a few of my personal friends?"

"Not so, Sir Lionel, I thank you; I am dead to the world and am only here to perform a duty; the hearing of names would stir sad memories in my heart and unfit me for my task," and motioning him to bend down towards her, she said in tones only heard by him:

"Your kind heart requires sympathy; go and stay near that lovely lady you spoke to just now."

"I shall, and shall be near you also."

And though by this time half a dozen men had grouped themselves about the beauty, he got into a corner behind her, where, when they spoke, her breath fanned his cheek, or in turning, the soft bronze of her hair brushed his face.

The nun now standing up, spoke in quick, nervous tones, as follows:

"You all know why I am here; an odd figure truly in such a scene. I have been one of you, so know exactly how out of place is one in my garb, where all is gold lace and revelry. I regret to have detained you, but you gentlemen will not mind when beauty and grace are so near; and you ladies will not tire, as curiosity, your strongest trait (pardon, I, too, am a woman) is about to be gratified in my words.

Vanity has been my curse, and even now it hurts me to humiliate myself to you all, so much so, that, though I pity a man who has wrongfully suffered condemnation through me for many years, I would not exonerate him were it not at the command of the church. Twelve years ago I was a young bride, and with my husband, an officer high in rank in our army, was at London. I was called pretty; I know I was worldly, foolish and vain. My husband, a very superior man (as I see men now), might have done something with me had I submitted to his guidance, but I was but seventeen, if that is any excuse for my wickedness. The officers of our regiment were as gay as their kind. I thought them all in love with me; I know men well enough since to be aware that their love was winged, and lighted where fancy willed, and _pour pa.s.ser le temps_. My own fickle fancy," and her voice faltered, "was held by two men, antipodes each of the other; the one fair as an angel of day, who, had he bid me to his arms, ah well' though I shame to tell you, his will would have only been my wish."

Here Delrose's face grew black as he muttered, "there, too."

"The other man, dark as a storm-tossed sky, bewitched me also, and he did will that I should be wholly his, and conquered; I, at last, giving him my whole heart, and pa.s.sionately loving him and him alone."

Here the slight figure swayed and would have fallen, but Vaura and others were beside her; in a moment she again stood erect, waving them away saying: "'Tis the weakness of the flesh; but let me do my poor weak nature justice, I could conquer my feelings better, but that the wine I drank on entering after my journey, and to nerve me to my task, was drugged."--sensation--"but to my penance; I consented to leave my husband, and with the man of whom I last spoke; on pretence of visiting friends, I went to Paris; my lover obtaining leave of absence at the same time for himself, and with deep cunning, inducing his brother officer to do likewise; for though unlike, still, both as gay society men and of the same regiment, were a good deal together.

The one honourable, the other, as I have found him to my sorrow.

The one 'in all his gay _affaires de coeur_, never desecrating a hearth-stone;' this he told me on seeing" here her voice broke, "on seeing my love for him; I hope he will forgive my breach of confidence; this was previous to my dark lover having gained my heart.

We lived as man and wife at Paris; he, returning to his regiment before his leave had expired, told me I must write to his brother officer at his hotel to come and see me on a certain day; I obeyed blindly; he came, and my lover managed so that his own servant should call at the same time with messages from England, bogus and with no reference to himself. The servant (the same man who drugged my wine to-night) returned to his regiment with the information that I was living _a_ Paris with the other officer, who, returning to England, on his furlough lapsing, was called out by my husband, who was worsted in the duel. My lover was waited on by the man he had wronged (I mean his brother officer, not my husband), who implored him to own up. My lover said it would ruin him; he had nothing but his sword; he must get his promotion; he would marry me as soon as his Colonel secured a divorce, etc. The other man consented to bear the stigma, as it would be best for me, and until a divorce was obtained, the man of honour sold out; my lover was promoted. So does the green bay tree flourish. The divorce was obtained; my lover, though visiting me frequently, and always unsuspected, at each visit swore to marry me at the next, but instead, deserted me just three months previous to the birth of our child, with no means of support, moving from lodging to lodging, living by the sale of my jewels; at last when these failed, getting bread for myself and child by giving a few music lessons to the poor people's children. But now, hearing that the man for whom I had given up all, had sold out, and now the avowed admirer of a wealthy American at New York, U.S.A., I gave up; my pitiable loneliness, poverty, failing health were too much and I completely broke down. You will wonder how I, in my retirement, heard of his unfaithfulness. Just about eight years ago, a creature who had once paid me compliments, a dissolute man, found me out, telling me my lover had sent him; he renewed his odious addresses. Some of my women hearers will be shocked to hear me tell of declarations of love of this kind, but when a woman takes the step I did, she must accept such; one cannot play with pitch and escape defilement, and though I loathed the messenger and his words it would have been an incongruity to say so; so when he said I had best take the sunny side of life's boulevard with him, with forced calmness I refused and decidedly. On his taking a reluctant leave, I fell into a death-like swoon, and so, good Father Lefroy, the parish priest found me. But to hasten (you can easily I believe I had been an extremely careless religionist). The kind sisters of a neighbouring convent brought me and my little son to their hospital, and nursed me back to more than my former health. I embraced their faith, and at my earnest entreaty they accepted me as a member of their order, and I trust by zeal in good works to atone for the wickedness of my past life. My boy, I have given as a sin offering to the church. And now the penance imposed upon me is finished, save in a few concluding words. I say most solemnly, upon oath, that what I have said and am about to say is the truth. The man I spoke of at first, as handsome as an angel of day, and to whom you have given me as hidden wife, is Sir Lionel Trevalyon. The man with whom I eloped, and who finally won my love, is the father of my child and is Major Delrose; for I am none other than f.a.n.n.y Ponton, at one time wife to Colonel Clarmont." At these words, the poor thing gave way, but the wee white mouse, who had gradually from pillar to post reached the head of the room is beside her, first sending Everly to the side of Madame, saying, "Make love to her openly, to-night, and to my banker to-morrow." And now the pink eyes peer through the black veil as she whispers, "you'll have another 'pick me up;' where's the small bottle? I saw them and the priest is aching to come right along. What a dear little boy, but the bottle, quick!"

"You are very kind; it is in my pocket." A wine-gla.s.s is brought and the contents swallowed.

In the meantime Colonel Haughton, Claxton, Wingfield, and others came forward, congratulating Sir Lionel, while some of the loveliest women, glad of his freedom, did likewise. Meanwhile Sir Peter Tedril had come hastily to the little group around Madame, just as she was saying jestingly to Delrose--

"Come, George, own up, you and the nun are a black pair. Hadn't I better go and pat and purr over _dear_ Sir Lionel?"

"None of your chaff, Kate, I am in no mood to stand it; the ball is at _his_ feet now, it will be at _mine_ ere sunrise," he said savagely, and with latent meaning.

"That's right, Delrose," said Tedril, mistaking his purpose. "Whether she is yours or his does not signify; throw down the gauntlet; give her the lie; tell her she is an adventuress; anything! to put a spoke in Trevalyon's wheel; all the women go with him; a man has no chance,"

drawing himself up to his full height of five feet five inches, and pulling his whiskers furiously; "even with a handle to his name, and an M.P.; if you don't care to go in yourself, let Rivers, Everly, or myself be your spokesman."

"Leave me out, Tedril, please," said Lord Rivers lazily; "I'd rather be all eyes and ears just at present," drawing closer to Madame, and being for the moment proprietor of her fine arm, lace wraps telling no tales. "I vote Delrose kiss and make up, so we see the statue unveil."

At this there was laughter, when Rivers continued: "Don't look black as a storm-tossed sky, Delrose, as the veiled lady hath it. I dare say honours were divided between you and Trevalyon."

"Both soldiers, they went to war and vanquished a woman, eh, Georgie?"