CHAPTER XIX.
FOR A FAIR WOMAN FACE.
"What an irrepressible fellow Everly is," thought Trevalyon, as he
sauntered along the avenue towards his hotel; having heard his
question to Vaura (as to the ball), "he manages to get a card for
everything. I should not regret his departure for anywhere; our little
_coterie_ was perfect without him. Vaura is extremely lovely and
fascinating, she, of course, is the magnet that draws him; what a
presumptuous little poppet he is, a mere fortune-hunter, hanger-on of
society to dare turn his eyes in her direction. But am I not taking
too deep an interest in this sweet Vaura Vernon. I must guard my
heart; she is a flirt, I must beware. Another tender billet from Mrs.
Haughton, and full of this hidden-wife falsehood; I have been
careless, never even having told Haughton the truth of the matter.
Every seven years, it seems to me, there is a rehash of by-gone
villifications; one must only grin and bear it, but I do feel it
terribly just now, not because it is what it always was, 'a lie
direct,' but because of my close companionship with my dear friend and
bewitching Vaura."
Let us now follow small Everly, and read some of his thoughts; with
rapid steps he is soon at his destination, where, seating himself in a
huge easy chair which almost hides his small body, draws a table to
his side, on which are placed his pipe, glass of punch, with some
letters.
"Gad, a missive from Aunt Martha," he exclaimed. "Whether it be sugar
or vinegar it will keep until I do the others."
One was from his lawyer telling him the Jews were after him; with a
muttered exclamation of "they must wait," he threw it aside. The
others were from acquaintances--mere chit-chat; "and now for the old
girls," he thought, which on opening a bank draft for L50 dropped out.
"Gad! almost a holocaust," he said, picking it from the dying embers
in the grate. "And now for the letter."
"MY DEAR NEPHEW,--Enclosed you will find a draft for fifty pounds; it
is extremely inconvenient to remit you even such a small sum, but I
promised your mother on her death-bed to give you all the assistance
in our power, as also did your sister Amy; and so please heaven we
shall, as we are quite aware that the trifle you inherit from your
father is extremely small for the maintenance of an English baronet.
Moreover, considering it an honour to the house of Morton that an
Everly should have linked himself thereto, we have decided to let you
have Johnston's rent for the future, and regularly. But, dear nephew,
remember you cannot afford to make a mere love-match; you must marry
an heiress. Your setter Hecate has had pups, which we shall nurse
tenderly for you, as they represent money. But the school bell rings
me away, and, dear nephew, from you I go with my pupils into the
mysteries of pounds, shillings and pence. You will laugh and say you
and they are always associated in my mind; and it is so, for, you are
both things of worth. When you marry some rich young lady (you know
whom I tell you you can win), I shall pay a master to take the
arithmetic class. Make your old aunts glad with the news of a wealthy
marriage being arranged for you. Acknowledge draft.
"With much love, from your affectionate Aunt,
"MARTHA MORTON.
"Sir Tilton Everly,
"Paris, Hotel European,
2nd Nov., 1887."
"It will please the aunts if I write instanter, so here goes."
"DEAR AUNT MARTHA,--Draft received, came in handy, can assure you. You
are a jolly pair of relations for a fellow to have; never wanted the
needful more. I know I shall have to marry money; I expect I guess
correctly as to the girl you mean, but tallow candles are out of
fashion. I know the gilding is thick, and debts are a bother. But you
never fear for Tilton, he may yet win a glorious beauty and great
expectations from a titled relation. Eureka! I can tell you; aunts you
have no idea what a fuss society makes over me. Glad Hecate has done
something for a living, or rather for mine. Goodnight or morning, for
it is one a.m.
"Your devoted Nephew,
"TILTON EVERLY.
"Miss Morton's Seminary,
"Bayswater, Suburbs, London Eng.
Nov., 5th, 1877."
"Yes, 'pon my life, the old girls are right, I must have the sovereign
for my name; pity I was born with a taste for the beautiful; my father
was wanting in forethought on my account, or he would never have wed
penniless Rose Morton; here am I over head and ears in love with a
peerless beauty, with not much or not enough of the needful to keep us
both in style; there is not a doubt though that she will inherit from
that stately godmother of hers. Never say die, Tilton, my boy; she
smiled on you to-night, go in and win; why, the very thought of her
sends the blood dancing through my veins; splendid figure, perfect as
a Venus. She knows naught of my relations to that young schemer, and
if my love by a stern fate says nay, she is too much accustomed to
conquests to boast; and the other who is ready to marry me any day
will, never know anything to erect her spine about; a week from
tonight the de Hauteville ball, I shall there know the best or worst;
if I fail it won't be because of aught wanting in myself, but because
I cannot win over the Lady of Esmondet; then, if so, I shall hide my
groans under an M.P., and the gold of my lemon-face, to whom I shall
not exactly play count to her, Miss Kilmansegg, for I could not act
such a villain's part; but I must have some hobby to ride, to make up
for the sacrifice of self; and now to bed and sleep or dream."