CHAPTER XLV.

BLACK DELROSE AS A MARKSMAN.

"And now, reverend sir," she had said, turning quickly and imperiously

to Father Lefroy, on the exit of Vaura, and waving her hand towards

sister Magdalen, "the left is your right. Ah! Sir Andrew, pardon, I

did not see you, you are in great demand in the drawing rooms."

"You flatter me, Mrs. Haughton," he answered, with a shrug of shoulder

as he accepted his dismissal.

Sister Magdalen now sat up, saying feebly, "Where am I; oh! yes, I

remember it all, how dreadful, my poor head," and turning her pale,

grief-stricken face to the priest, said sadly, "When do we leave,

father?"

"I go at once, daughter, but the great London physician who has just

left the room having restored you to consciousness, says positively,

you must remain here until to-morrow; come George, my son, we have no

more time to spare here, our duty is done."

"No, I shall not go with you," cried the boy, going over to Lionel,

taking his hand.

"You must, you are under age," said the priest sternly; "your mother

has given you to us."

"Then, she is my dear mother no more," and one could see that he

strove manfully to swallow the lump in his throat, "and if you force

me I'll cut and run."

Here Mason entered.

"Do you know whether the house-keeper has a vacant room, Mason,"

inquired her mistress hastily.

"No, ma'am," she said, "just now we are full ma'am."

"Very well, give orders instantly that Sir Tilton Everly's traps be

taken to Miss Tompkins' appartments. Assist this lady to Sir Tilton's

room, the boy also, and bid a servant drive this clergyman to the

village. Admit _no one_ to my presence."

"Yes ma'am," said the discreet maid, not moving a muscle of her face.

"I shall send for you both ere this time to-morrow," said the priest,

shaking hands kindly with Lionel.

"You would make a good general officer, fair madame, where speedy

dispatch was necessary," said Lionel gallantly.

"Twas easy, a man and woman sleep-double, a priest and a nun are

parted; make yourself comfortable on yonder lounge, I am coming to

look at and talk to you, my long lost star, my king."

"Most fellows would envy me," he thought, stretching, himself on the

lounge for he was really fatigued, and if he is made prisoner, may as

well rest.

"George would kill me, could he see me," thought Kate, seating herself

on a pile of cushions close to his chest, "but what did he tease me

about going off with a Cousin for, I know it was false, but if I can

even now win the love of this man, I shall defy him and pretend to

have taken him literally." And letting her lace wraps fall about her,

sinking into the cushions, leaning forward, both arms folded on his

chest, this recklessly, impulsive; black-browed woman looked her

prisoner full in the eyes. Being a man, his face softened. She saw it,

and there was a moment's silence save for the cooing of the lovebirds

hanging in their gilded cage in the roseate light.

"Could I not content you my king? you have been cruel to me; cease to

be so, and though I can be fierce, cruel, and vindictive to others, I

shall be always gentle to you; you know by my letters that my love is

unchanged, let me rest here, my king," and the head with its shining

black tresses sank to his chest, "and I shall teach you so to love me

that you will lose even the memory of other women. Speak, my king, but

only to tell me you accept my all," and her voice sank to a whisper.

"How can I, you poor little woman?" and he smiled, but sadly, for he

thought for one moment of how weak is poor humanity, with the boy

Cupid's fingers on one's heartstrings; the next, he determined to heal

the wounded heart at his feet--though with the lance.

"Your fancy, will pass, _chere madame_, and your husband is my

friend," and he added in her ear, "you have a man whom you honour with

especial favor."

"But why do I?" she said, almost fiercely and starting to a sitting

posture, "why, I only admitted him for distraction's sake; you know

full well 'twas you I loved and not the man I have married, or the

lover you credit me with," she said, in an aggrieved tone, forgetting

the years ere she had met him. "I hoped by so doing to drink of the

waters of Lethe; but it has not been so, though losing myself at times

in a whirl of excitement; your name, your face, with your wonderful

eyes, from nearly every album I handled, and I was again in

subjection; perchance you had been recalled to my memory by some idle

word in the moonlight when I became an iceberg to my companion, and my

whole being going out to meet yours, when, for return, an aching

loneliness. Listen, my king, my master," and she started to her feet

powerfully agitated, every pulse throbbing, Trevalyon stood up

quickly, coming to her side, taking her hand in his while one arm

supported her, for she trembled.

"Calm yourself, you poor little woman, this passion will soon pass; I

shall be away, other men will teach you to forget me, be kind to poor

Haughton for my sake (if I may say so) and your own, and now, dear,

that your passionate heart is beating slower, let me bring you to the

_salons_ ere you are missed."

"Your voice is full of music, else I would not stay so still," and

again he feels her tremble for she thinks of the flying moments of her

losing game, and of her fierce lover as victor. "But there is no time

to be-so sweetly still," and her voice sinks to a whisper, "or else I

could be forever so, see, I kneel to you; nay, you must let me be,"

and the words came brokenly and more passionately than any ever having

passed her lips, "you, and you only, have ever had the power to subdue

me." Here her face changed to a sickly pallor as of faintness, a

tremor ran through her whole frame, and saying in a breathless

whisper, "Great heavens! your life is in danger, follow my cue; will

you take care of the boy?"

"I will, Mrs. Haughton; pray arise."

While he was speaking, crash, crash, went the plate glass in the

window behind him, and black Delrose, looking like a very fiend,

bounded in, taking up a bronze statue of Achilles, hurled it at

Trevalyon, who only escaped from the fact of having stooped with the

utmost apparent _sang-froid_ to pick up a rose his fair companion had

dropped from her corsage. Achilles, instead of his head, shattering

the greater part of a costly mirrored wall, with ornaments on a Queen

Anne mantel-piece.

"This will settle him," he now yelled furiously, and about to fire

from, a pocket pistol.

"Hold!" cried Kate, "'twas no love scene."

"By heaven, 'tis well, or he had been a dead man," he said furiously,

lowering his arm. "Explain yourself, Trevalyon, or you--"

"Beware, George," said Kate, breathlessly.

"I shall not, Kate; you have maddened me and by the stars he shall say

why you knelt to him. I suppose you would like me, forsooth! to admire

the _nonchalante_ manner of his posing at the time," and turning like

a madman to Trevalyon, shaking his clenched fist in his face, said

fiercely, "by the stars you shall speak. Why did she kneel to you?"

"Calm yourself, Delrose," he answered quietly, for the first time

pitying this passionate woman, "Mrs. Haughton is the wife of my

friend!"

"Men always respect such facts," sneered Delrose; "no, that won't go

down; Kate, you or he shall tell me or I shall not answer for the

consequences."

Kate, fearing for Trevalyon, answered quickly:

"I was imploring him to look after your boy, and not allow the priest

to spoil him for a soldier."

"You swear this?"

"You, I know, are satisfied with nothing else."

"That won't do; do you swear you asked him to do this as you knelt,"

he said, slowly and jealously.

"I do."

"And what says this squire _des dames_?" he continued sneering and

turning suspiciously to Trevalyon.

"That Mrs. Haughton has condescended to explain the situation or I

shouldn't, and that a gentleman never questions the word of a lady,"

he answered coolly, and haughtily continuing, "may I be your escort

back to the _salons_, Mrs. Haughton."

Kate seeing the look of impatient hate settling in the eyes of her

lover, said hastily,

"Thanks; no, Sir Lionel;" she would have added more but for the

jealous gaze of Delrose, who said as she went to Trevalyon's

assistance in opening the spring lock.

"Yes; go, Kate, to your last act in the farces of Haughton Hall, you

must then come to my assistance with the drop curtain." While he

speaks the hands of the man, impatient to be with the love of his

life, and of the woman, sorry to let him go, meet in the folds of the

hangings, the woman sighing as she presses his hand to her heart and

so they part.