CHAPTER XXXVI.

KNAVES ARE TRUMPS.

Vaura spent the night of the fifth in dreamy wakefulness; Lionel's

looks, caresses, and loving words seeming hers still; and to-morrow

eve; the glad joy of his presence would be again felt; and her

sympathy and love for him were so tender and heartfelt, that she lost

herself in an intoxicating sense of languor, sweet beyond expression,

and which she could scarcely rouse herself from, when her maid, on the

morrow bid her arise.

Both her god-mother and self, being a good deal excited over the

coming events, on meeting at breakfast, spoke either in disjointed

sentences, or were buried in thought.

"In all your conjectures, ma chere, you have never made one as to your

ball dress; if you will like it, and if it is due."

"It is useless, god-mother dear; I always adore Worth, and he is

always on time."

"Dear me," said Lady Esmondet an hour later, as they, in travelling

gear, awaited the carnage to take them to the Southern station, "how

time drags, I wish we were off."

"In our eagerness, we have dressed too soon, god-mother; but still,

waiting is insufferable. Poor uncle! I wonder what people are at the

Hall? what a scene is on the _tapis_! and what a bore the _expose_ of

truth is and will be to poor Lion! But, thank heaven, here is the

carriage."

At the station they meet Mr. Clayton, who has run up to town on

business. He will be with them to the next station, when he takes a

branch line to the Lord Elton's, where his wife is; later in the day

they run down to Haughton Hall for the ball.

"You will see no end of changes at the old place, Miss Vernon; I would

give something to see your face as you make your _entree_. I should,

in that case, see as many changes as yourself. At the revels each

evening, variety holds full sway."

"_Tres bien_," she answered carelessly (for she will not lay her heart

bare), "some have it that 'variety is the spice of life;' if so, as

you and I care nought for a mere existence, we must swallow the spice

and smile on the caterer."

"Exactly, as the guests do. By the way some one told me Trevalyon was

a good deal with you while abroad, but you may not yet have heard that

there has been no end of talk about him; the papers have him; in both

_Truth_ and the _Daily News_ I read of the scandal myself, and am

shocked beyond expression, that a married man should have been running

loose all these years; and to my thinking, it makes matters worse that

she was the wife of a friend; it was a traitorous act: did he confide

in you while abroad? did he tell you of his base act?"

"Yes, and 'tis all false as the face of society, and hollow of truth

as many of her gems; but the false face will soon be torn off, and the

ring of the true diamond will be heard," she said, with impulsive

fervor.

"Indeed! you surprise me, Miss Vernon; but I shall be really glad if

Trevalyon comes out a free man and can prove himself so to the

suspicious eye of society."

"Conveniently blind, Mr. Clayton, when she chooses."

"Distended and greedy in Trevalyon's case; he has been too independent

of her," he said thoughtfully; "but here is my halting place, sorry to

leave you both, but only till to-night."

It was the lightning express, and there was no other stopping place

until they reach the village of Haughton, Here they stayed just long

enough to allow the Hall people to make a speedy exit. On our friends

alighting they were a little surprised to see Blanche Tompkins

followed by Sir Tilton Everly (who, on seeing them, looked not unlike

a whipped cur), emerge from a second class coach.

"Some of the spice of variety we were to look for," said Vaura, in an

undertone.

"_Oui, ma chere_, and I am sure we are both prepared not to be

astonished at the seasoning, no matter what shape it may take."

Blanche was gaily dressed in a seal brown silk suit, trimmed with

ermine, a large brown beaver flat with ostrich feathers; the wee white

mouse face almost hidden, the sharp little pink eyes--for pink they

looked--the rims red as usual, and a cold in the head giving them a

swollen appearance. She had not forgotten her golden loves, for, from

ears, throat, and wrists, dangled many yellow dollars. With a

whispered, "Don't let the cat out of the bag till I bid you, or you're

not worth a cent," she stepped over to Lady Esmondet and Vaura,

saying: "I'm sure you're too awfully surprised for anything to see

me."

"Not at all, Miss Tompkins,"' said Lady Esmondet. Here Sir Tilton came

up, lifted his bat, while both ladies shook hands with him.

"You have a truant look about you, Sir Tilton," laughed Vaura; "do you

foresee a fair woman's frown for your absence?"

"Don't chaff me, dear Miss Vernon; I can't stand it just now."

"Fact is," said Blanche, with cunning effrontery, "I wanted some gay

fixings for the ball, so I took the rail to London, got 'em, stayed

all night with the Claytons, and am bringing back to Mrs. Haughton her

dear little Sir Tilton."

"Why, we met Mr. Clayton, and he says they are staying at Oak Hall at

the Lord Eltons," exclaimed Vaura amusedly, and to see how Blanche

would extricate herself.

"See you know too much; but don't say anything, for here is the trap,

with the Colonel inside, I suppose, and he's too awfully too, I'll

tell you later on; Mrs. Haughton don't do all the tricks."

"But should you have been missed, what then?"

"Oh, that's too easy, Miss Vernon; I've been too awfully busy with my

maid; headache, anything that comes first."

"A pupil of Madame would naturally learn how to shuffle the cards,"

said Lady Esmondet, a trifle cynically, and, _sotto voce_, "I am too

awfully sleepy to take you in, Lady Esmondet," said Blanche, yawning.

A covered carriage with two servants, drives to the steps; the Colonel

is not inside; leaving one man to look after their maids and

belongings, they enter, and are soon on the well known road.

"I wonder my uncle did not meet us; especially as he must have

received our telegram."

"Surely he is not ill! How was he when you left the Hall, Miss

Tompkins?" inquired Lady Esmondet.

"A one, and it's too awfully funny he wasn't down. But I remember,

whenever he and Mrs. Haughton have a spat, and they had one (this time

hare and hounds), he clears out and takes to the lodge, so perhaps he

never spotted your telegram."

Lady Esmondet and Vaura, exchanging glances, fell into deep thought,

while Blanche and the small Baronet carried on a half-whispered

conversation, with a yawning accompaniment from the young woman.