A Heart-Song of To-day (Disturbed by Fire from the 'Unruly Member'). Annie G. Savigny
could you love me faithfully, devotedly, as I do you, what a life ours would be; but you are a slave to fancy, a creature of impulse, and I am now a mere barrier in your path, to be kicked aside at will; yet knowing this, I love you as ever, with the same old mad passion; and should you desert me, Heaven help me;" and the ring of truth and despair in his tones would have touched the heart of another.
But Kate, accustomed to eat greedily of life's sugar-plums, only stamped her foot impatiently at his persistence, saying:
"You are just a great big monopolist, George, and don't want our world to look at me, even through a glass case; the idea of you being jealous of a man whom we both agreed to sit on if he play bigamist; you forget our partizanship."
"See how quickly a kind word from you calms me my queen, but its too bad, beauty, I must hide again. I hear him returning."
"I shall go and meet him so he shall not lock you in."
"You were not long, Colonel, but I am quite rested and now for the tower stairs key, which way?"
"This way, but I need not have left you; Trimmer tells me the door is unlocked and our guests in advance of us.
"Oh, how lovely, it will save time looking them up; 'tis four-forty- five now, and at seven the up train is due."
In twenty minutes the ascent is made and madame stepped among her friends, her short navy blue satin skirt being just the thing to get about in easily; 'twas a handsome robe too with its heavy fringe and jets with bonnet to match, black silk jersey, heavy gold jewellery and jaunty satchel with monagram in gold slung over her round shoulder. She looked well and carried her head high and had her under jaw and mouth been less square and heavy she would have been handsome.
"What a band of idlers you look," she said "after my hard pilgrimage."
"Refreshingly dolce far niente, I should say," said Trevalyon lazily.
"How do you like the view, ladies?" enquired the Colonel, which gave
Sir Peter Tedril his opportunity.
"Have you seen him?" he said in an undertone,
"I have."
"Thank Heaven, it's over! you look so calm I feared it had to come."
"I don't wear my heart on my sleeve."
"The Colonel did not see him," he again asked.
"No, I did and alone in the armory."
"Where I left him, poor fellow."
"That will do; the others may hear."
"Allow me to adjust the telescope for you, Tedril," said Trevalyon. "I know it well, now, Mrs. Tompkins, you have a fine view taking in as you see a ravishing bit of Richmond a very embodiment of rest, at least where you are gazing, with the music which you are to imagine of the Thames at its feet."
"Enough;" she said, "I am no poet, and with me a little of that sort of thing goes a long way; turn it on something practical, if it will range so far."
"Shall it be London, Guildford, or chic little Epsom, fair Madame?"
"Give me London."
"Our gilded Babylon, versus ethereal skies, with lights and shadows that would send an artist wild," said Trevalyon, gaily readjusting the telescope.
"Why, Trevalyon, such sentiments from you," exclaimed the Colonel, while the others gathered around.
"'Tis a practical age, I like his view," said Everly.
"Do you, well take it; my eyes pain me," cried Madame.
"I wish I could take the pain too," he answered gallantly.
"You have taken both, sweet child; we had better all be off, every body. Time flies."
"He does; it tires one to think of him,"' said Trevalyon, consulting his watch.
"'Tis so sweet up here," sighed the Marchmont. "I am feasting my eyes on Rose Cottage."
"'Tis near dinner time, Mrs. Marchmont," said Blanche.
"When you will sigh, fish of sea, fowl of air versus Rose Cottage," said Tedril.
"Though following Sir Peter's lead from the depths to the heights, 'tis only to feed the inner-man, therefore as we grow prosaic we had best descend to the level of Rose Cottage," said Trevalyon.
For he felt that he was losing himself in memories of the past, here he had sat many hours with Vaura and his friend, now everything would be so changed; he knew it was foolish, but since he had seen a colored miniature of her in her uncle's possession in all the beauty of womanhood, he craved for her living presence, and he felt that the first step as he now made it down the old stairs brought him nearer the consummation of his wish. He was glad his arrangements to leave London at sunrise were complete; he wished the up trip was over; he did not pine for another tete-a-tete with Madame; she was capital company, but she belonged to his friend; he only hoped he would be able to hold her that was all. On their descent, after a few minutes adjournment to the dining-room where delicious tea with walnuts in sweet butter and salt and scraped Stilton cheese in rich French pastry were duly relished, besides cold ham, chicken with sparkling hock and Malmsey. And now again, merrier than birds, away to the station; this time Mrs. Tompkins and the Meltonbury take the dog-cart with Colonel Haughton. They outstrip the carriage; but now all alight.
"Gentlemen and ladies for the carriages, please take seats at once," sang the guard.
"How are you off for room, guard," enquired the Colonel.
"Seats in this one for two, sir."
"Sir Tilton, might I trouble you to take charge of my step-daughter; I know it will be a bore," she added in an undertone, "but I shall reward you my dear little poppet."
"Seats for five more, guard," shouted Tedril, for the engine was almost off.
"This way, sir."
The strawberries with hasty good-byes are on board with Tedril.
"Dine with me to-morrow evening, Colonel. By, by," said Mrs. Tompkins pleasantly, for he was so easy and she would have Trevalyon up.
But the latter, lifting his hat, said:
"It is not au revoir with me, dear Mrs. Tompkins, but bon voyage; and," he said, lowering his voice, "imagine the rice and slippers, for I heartily wish you every happiness."
"What nonsense," with a frown and little stamp of foot. "Wish me your wishes up; you are coming," and her eyes showed both anger and disappointment.
"Carriages, carriages;" shouted the guard, and with a pardon Madame almost locked the door on the skirts of Mrs. Tompkins as the Colonel was saying hurriedly:
"I persuaded him to wait for the midnight and keep me company."
CHAPTER VII.
ORESTES AND PYLADES.
"And how glad I am you did, dear old friend," said Trevalyon warmly, as they took the dog-cart for home, talking by the way long and earnestly as they drove slowly and absently. After dinner they stretched their limbs on rugs on the lawn under the peaceful June sky; they had not been here many minutes when their mutual friend the rector, Mr. Douglas, strolled across the park to smoke his pipe with them.
"You see it did not take me long to hear of your advent," he said taking the easiest of attitudes on a garden seat.
"And I need not say I am glad of it, Douglas; I am only sorry you did not come over and dine with us; had Trevalyon not been with me I should have found you out ere this."
Leaving Haughton