A Heart-Song of To-day (Disturbed by Fire from the 'Unruly Member'). Annie G. Savigny
he may as well return with you."
Blanche made a moue, saying poutingly, while feeling that a billet-doux was safe in her pocket:
"I was due at the Tottenham's this morning: Cis was coming shopping;" which was a romance of the moment.
"Tell John to drive around to Gloucester Square, and you can take her with you."
"No, I shall not. What do you want Sir Tilton for? Might be
Vanderbilt, the fuss you make over him."
"I know you dislike him; mere envy, Blanche, for his devotion to myself, which is absurd," with a satisfied glance at the mirror opposite. "Men being born hunters will hunt you for the golden dollar; me, for myself. So as you have breakfasted, away; try and be civil to Sir Tilton, and bring him back to dinner with you at eight o'clock; ta-ta."
As Miss Tompkins paced the corridors to her own apartments she muttered:
"I'll be even with you some day, Mrs. T.; didn't see you fool my popa nine years for nothing, and take all his kisses and more than two millions of money from me, when you didn't care a cent for him; 'twas the black-bearded major, not popa's lean jaws then; now, it's Capt. Trevalyon, who is as handsome as the Prince of Wales, and too awfully nice for anything. Never mind, you'll be sold as bad as one of Barnum's. I handle my million when I come of age, which will be New Year's day, 1878; then you'll see if all the men love you, and think me a fright just because I havn't your big black eyes and catlike ways."
Two footmen in dark green livery, with yellow facings, having removed the debris of breakfast, Madame, alone, consults her mirror, which reflects her rose-pink gown (the reds in all shades being her colour), which fits her embonpoint figure like a glove; slightly over the medium height, black browed, determined, daring and impulsive; a woman who will have her way where her appetites are concerned; easy-going when steering her own way with her own crew down life's current, while with a coldly cruel smile her oar crushes the life-blood from any obstacle in her course. She touches a bell, her maid appears.
"Mason, what do you think; am I paler than usual?"
"No, ma'am, you are looking very well."
"So my mirror tells me; nevertheless, as I am to say yes to a second husband this morning," and the large white teeth show as she smiles, "I think a slight blush would be becoming."
"Perhaps so, ma'am, but I like your white skin, it shows off your black hair and eyes real well, better than all the English colour; and so you are going to marry again, ma'am; well, I thought the gentlemen wouldn't leave you alone long, ma'am."
And the confidential maid applies with skill a slight touch of rouge to the cheek, which only has colour when the somewhat fierce temper causes the blood to mount.
"There, that will do; don't prate of what I have told you."
"I have kept your secrets for ten years, ma'am."
"You have, and may you keep them as many more, and here is a gold dollar for the term;" and her mistress tossed her carelessly two fives in the precious metal. "See that I am not disturbed, and only admit as I have given orders."
Alone she moves towards the hangings, through the opening in which Major Delrose had stealthily watched the night before, and through which she passes, giving him as she does only a passing thought. 'Tis a pretty room, this boudoir of Madame, with its gaily-painted hangings, its windows in stained glass, letting in the sweet June breath from the park. Too great a display of wealth, perhaps, but in the taste of the best New York artists, who revel in the gorgeous, and who have had full play for their talents at No. ——Eaton Square. The black-brow'd mistress picks up a novel (Mrs. Southworth's last); when, throwing herself onto a lounge, her well-shaped feet encased in her favourite black satin boots stretched out, she endeavours to get the thread of the tale; but thought is too busy, the book falls to the floor as her reverie grows deeper.
"No, he will not come; my idol, my king. I saw it in his eyes; he is pre-occupied with Miss Vernon, and I hate her;" and a cruel look comes to the mouth and eyes. "But stay, perhaps he does love me, but is unselfish enough to let his friend win; if I was even half sure of this I should make short work of stately Col. Houghton; but no, a man would not love me by halves," and for an instant her thoughts flew to Major Delrose. "Let me see now what is my plot or game; with George, my ambition would not be gratified, for he has no estate; nor could I ever bask in the presence of the man I adore; by marrying the Colonel I gain both ends. Then his niece, Miss Vernon, is in my path; she is haughty; I shall so act upon this trait by showing her my dislike to her presence as to rid myself forever of it; let her beware! vitriol and Mason would do their work; yes, I must keep friendly with Delrose; her haughty spirit will aid me here; this 'hidden wife' story once afloat, and a royal princess would as soon sign a contract with a prophet of Utah. I fear the fierce, passionate temper of George; but my woman's wit will be brought to play to keep him quiet; Trevalyon will necessarily have a surer footing at Haughton than he, as in this case I shall see; in an underhand way the Colonel has his wish, and the pith of all my musings is that if George will not aid me in reviving the Fanny Clarmont, hidden wife scandal, I shall do it without him. One thing in my favour is, that as he swears against matrimony, people will say the secret reason is out of—Why! Eleven forty-five; my future spouse should soon appear; how my heart would beat, and every pulse throb and burn, if it were my king; now, I am as cool as the czar of Wall Street. My sleeves fit well; this make suits me," and she pushed to the wrist her bracelets of the golden dollar. "And my boots also; I do take as much pride in my foot as the men do in their moustache. What am I gaining in return for myself and my gold? A great place and name, and also revenge on my father, whom I may meet, and who kept me from position, not allowing me to know even his whole name—Vivian only, this and nothing more; he, a British officer, in a mad impulse (I am like him) marries my mother, nobody's daughter, and a ballet dancer, during a run he made to New York city just thirty-five years ago; my sire repents in sackcloth and ashes, dragging us with him; sells out; living by his wits anyhow and anywhere, chiefly at gaming places abroad. At a German suburb once he had left us, my late husband came to our cottage to enquire his road; as he was an American, my mother nearly swallow'd him whole; I did, on seeing his diamonds and knowing of his wealth; Lincoln Tompkins, beautiful! cognomen, and a 'cosmopolitan laundry' millionaire; my proud father nearly offered to kill me on his return, but in spite of the haughty Vivian we were married; and at his death he left me a rich woman. A year or so ago I came here to gratify ambition; and so, yes I think I may be satisfied; my capital is over two millions in gold, besides good speculations, quick wit, tact enough for my purpose—blood, I was going to say—and American confidence, pet name, cheek. Yes, I shall be able to hold my own with the best of 'em. Had I married George, he would have been savagely jealous of other men; had it been my idol, he would have been my ruler; as it is, self shall rule."
Peter here announces Colonel Haughton. Madame arises, apologising for her recumbent position, but not before her future husband has had time to admire her foot, ankle and shapely arms, for, though her love is not for him, he is a man and she an inbred coquette, and as a man he admires her; he has loved but once the fair-haired Alice Esmondet, who chilled his heart by her refusal, he tells himself she is always so calm and freezing she could never love and so he goes to his fate who meets him all smiles and out-stretched hands saying—
"You are finding out my little weaknesses too soon, Colonel, you will not now have the courage to repeat your words of yesterday."
"If all women looked as charming, indulging their nap over a novel we should never scold." And her hand in his he led her back to the sofa. "My friend Trevalyon as well as your own card bid me 'come'; it is then, as I wish, dear, your consent to honor me with this hand?"
"Yes, if you do not tell of how nearly you won a pair of gloves."
"Instead; I shall tell of winning this fair hand on your waking, when we wed as now." And his dark moustache is on her lips; "your kisses are all mine, is it not so, my wife?"
"Can you doubt it? you have conquered."
"You will think me impatient, dear, but I want you to take my name at once."