CHAPTER VI.
LOVE AND LOVE-MAKING.
"This just too lovely; you are not going to weep over the exit of the
Colonel?" said Mrs. Tompkins rapturously.
And the sleeve of her jersey brushed Trevalyon's arm as she whispered
above, glancing sideways.
"Enforced exit, you mean; with so seductive a neighbour one cannot but
pity the absent."
But Mrs. Marchmont must be given an occupation, as she is immediately
her opposite neighbour; Trevalyon will then not feel it incumbent on
him to notice her, and will then be hers as though in a _tete-a-tete_;
and so with the imperiousness that newly-acquired wealth lends to some
natures, she says:
"Here, Fairy, is Agnes Fleming's latest; as I warn you I shall
monopolize Capt. Trevalyon until we reach the Hall of 'Haughton,' when
some one else will go in for monopoly of me."
"Yes, you poor dear thing, he will;" and she tittered; "but when the
cat is away mousey can play; consider me asleep over my novel."
The absurdity of her remark struck Trevalyon so forcibly that he could
not restrain a laugh.
"I don't believe you pity me one bit," said Mrs. Tompkins in a low
tone, looking into his eyes reproachfully.
"Not one bit."
"Even after what I have told you?"
"Even after that," he answered, in lowest of tones; for they are in
such close contact she can see what he would say as his lips frame the
words.
"You are the only man who has been cruel to me."
"How so?"
"Oh, because," and the eyelids droop, for the lashes are long and
black, though she would fain, look forever into the blue eyes above
her. "Oh, because it is simply a woman's reason; give me your own."
"You are cruel, because to whom much is given, of him is much
required."
"You flatter me; but let us look on the reverse side; I am a lonely
man, I may say without kith or kin; I am almost sworn against wedded
ties, but I love you all, have given much and require much."
And the easy _sang-froid_ habitual to him gave place to a sadness of
expression, a tired look, that ere now had made women weep. Mrs.
Tompkins, impulsive to a degree, would fain have ordered everyone from
the coach, taken his head to her breast, and bid him rest; a tremor is
in her voice as she asks:
"Why will you not marry?" And for one moment she is willing to cut her
heart out so he is happy; the next, ready to tear the heart from any
woman who could make him so.
He sees by her tones the effect he is producing; he must again don his
mask, and not excite her pity by reference to the sadness of his inner
life, caused by his dead father's griefs; he had been foolish, but he
had wished her in an indirect way to know that as no woman held his
whole heart neither could she; and so, almost in his old easy tones,
he says:
"Why not marry? I prefer you to frame some pretty imaginings to bore
you on our pleasure jaunt with my own; and here we are at our English
Frascati, Richmond the enchanting. Have you ever sunned yourself in
Italy, fair madame?"
"No, nor should I care to; the Italian is too lazy, too dreamy for
me."
"Then you cannot enter into the spirit of Thompson's 'Castle of
Indolence?'"
"There is no spirit in it; no, I had rather sell peanuts at a Broadway
corner, roast chestnuts on a Parisian boulevard, or flowers in Regent
Street, than wade through one stanza of his sleepy poems."
Trevalyon laughed, saying:
"How full of active life and vim you are; now, I, at times, could
write of dreamy idleness _con amore_. Do you never weary of our
incessant hunt after some new sensation?"
"Never! 'tis the very main-spring of my existence, 'tis what I live
for."
"How will you manage to kill time at 'Haughton' Hall out of the
season?"
"You will be there," and the black eyes meet his unflinchingly. "And
if not I am a great wanderer."
"Some distraction shall dull my senses till you come."
"But, you poor little fire-eater, supposing your liking for me to be
real," and no ear but hers heard his whispered words "with my
knowledge of Haughton's noble nature, I should curse myself did I
cause him one jealous pang."
She pressed close to him as she breathed tenderly--
"Trust me my idol he shall never dream of my idolatry."
And the passionate face is transfigured in a tenderness new to it, for
her passion has grown doubly strong in this drive from London, and she
hugs to herself the thought that her love will beget his, all shame
for its avowal is foreign to her breast, reckless and impulsive, her
wish is her will.
"Your heart is as loving and untamed as Eve's, you must not tempt me
to forget that he is my friend."
"I _must_." And the jewelled fingers (for her gloves are off) cling to
his as he assists her to alight, for Richmond passed they are at the
village of 'Haughton,' and the guard has called--
"Ladies and gentlemen for the Hall please alight."
A covered carriage and dog-cart are down in answer to the telegram of
Colonel Haughton who has already alighted and meets his guests as they
emerge from the carriage.
"Here we are again," says small Sir Tilton Everly, "Such a jolly
drive, I am glad you invited me, Colonel Haughton; never was past
Richmond proper before."
"No?" said the Colonel carelessly, and, stepping quickly to Mrs.
Tompkins, says, "It has been dreary banishment to me; allow me."
"You look like a man who has missed his dinner; or, as John Bull,
outwitted by brother Jonathan," said his bride elect with a latent
meaning as laughing heartily she takes his arm to the carriage.
"Or had a John Bright man step in before him at the election."
"Confound his impudence," thought Colonel Haughton, saying, "I am not,
a Mark Tapley."
"Any man with a spice of gallantry" said Trevalyon coming to his
friend's aid, "would feel as if Siberian banishment had been his
portion, had he been separated from so fair a group of ladies."
Are the men doing anything to 'Rose Cottage' Trimmer," enquired his
master of a shrewd looking man in brown and buff livery.
"Yes, sir, it's in good order now."
"This lady is my new tenant, anything you can do Trimmer to meet her
requirements will oblige me."
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you Colonel Haughton, you are very kind," said Mrs. Marchmont.
"Don't mention it, anything I can do will give me pleasure."
"It is a sweet spot; my darling child, Miranda, is a naturalist and
will collect many insects."
"From the Hall?" said Blanche with her innocent air.
"No, no, dear, from the grounds."
"Drive on, Trimmer, I shall take the dog-cart."
"Yes, sir."
"What a sweet spot and how quaint the shops look," said Mrs. Marchmont
as they were rapidly driven through the village.
"Not quaint, but vacant" laughed Mrs. Tompkins, "the whole thing has a
vacant air about it, the inhabitant looks as though he was born
yesterday and wondering what day it was; I'd rather see a yankee
whittling a stick with his saucy independent air; hat on the back of
his head so he can see what is going on, than any one of 'em."
"I could buy out the whole lot myself," said Blanche jeeringly, with
her small head turning as if on a pivot.
"What a delightful feeling," said Mrs. Meltonbury, admiringly, "Yes
it's just too lovely. If my poppa was here he'd throw no end of dimes
and pea-nuts among 'em; always had pea-nuts in his pockets; how they
stare, it's just too funny for anything."
"How wealthy he must have been, I just adore money!" said the
Meltonbury.
"I believe you," answered Blanche laconically.
"Pity you have that husband out in Ontario, Melty," said Mrs.
Tompkins, "or I should soon find you another millionaire, you ought to
get a divorce, plea; he is Canadian Government _attache_ not your
_attache_."
"What a dear thing you are; it would be too sweet."
"Which, the millionaire or the divorce," at which there was a peal of
laughter.
"I am afraid sister referred to the man," sighed Mrs. Marchmont, "but
how sad for poor dear Meltonbury."
"He'd survive it," said Blanche sententiously.
"As I live there is Lord Rivers and a man worth stopping for. Halt,
coachman," cried Mrs. Tompkins eagerly.
And they stopped in front of the D'Israeli Arms where a group of
gentlemen were watering their horses.
"Ah! how do Mrs. Tompkins," said Lord Rivers lazily wheeling his
handsome bay and lifting his hat to the group.
"Whither bound?"
"For 'Haughton' Hall, you are coming I hope, now don't say no for I
shall not listen if you do."
"Too bad, but I am due at Epsom, a little trotting race is on, and if
not the lord of Haughton, whom I met up the road, did not give me an
invitation."
"But I do," said Madame with emphasis.
"He is a lucky fellow," he said slowly and taking in the situation.
"So I think," she said laughing, and remembering she had Trevalyon for
to-day continued hastily, "we open the Hall for no end of revels at
Christmas, I must have you then."
"I shall slumber and dream of you until that time," and with a long
side glance from his sleepy eyes the Epicurean peer put spurs to his
horse to overtake his friends.
"Drive on, coachman."
"What deep eyes Lord Rivers has; he quite looks one through. What a
pity such a sweet man should have such an ugly, disagreeable wife, I
never thought she would be even a possible choice for any man," said
the Marchmont.
"Better for us, it makes him sigh for the impossible," said Mrs.
Tompkins.
"And 'tis such a sweet mission for a woman, that of consoler," sighed
the Marchmont.
"To a man," said Blanche with her innocent air.
"Of course to a man; a woman would suspect a latent pity for which she
would reward you with her claws," said Mrs. Tompkins.
"Sweet consoler, I shall send to Pittsburg for a cast-iron heart and
buy out some druggist's court plaster," said Blanche. "You shall
console a husband next season, I am determined in this."
"Indeed! who have you got me ticketed for?" and the pink eyes turned
towards her step-mother.
"Little Sir Tilton would be just her height, dear Mrs. Tompkins," and
Mrs. Meltonbury clasped her hands in ecstasy.
"Mrs. Tompkins will tell you how I love him," said Blanche
disapprovingly.
"Yes Melty, Blanche cannot endure him and besides he is my little
beau," said Madame with an air of proprietorship.
But the Hall of the Haughtons is reached, and the carriage rolls
through the wide open gates. At the pretty lodge door stands the
keeper and his wife, he pulls off his cap while she curtsies low,
their future mistress tosses them a gold bit at which more curtsy and
bow. What a magnificent avenue through the great park, the oak and elm
mingling their branches and interlacing their arms overhead, through
which a glimpse of blue heavens with golden gleams of sunlight are
seen. A turn in the road and the grand entrance is before them, on
either side of which are flower beds in full bloom. A conservatory is
all around the octagon south wing, now bereft of its floral beauties
excepting its orchards and ferns. It is really a fine old place, large
and massive, in grey stone and with the grandeur of other days about
it; the arms and motto show well in the sculptor's work over the
entrance; the words "Always the same" and "Loyal unto death," standing
out brave and firm, as the Haughtons have for generations unnumbered.
On the steps stand the master of Haughton, beside him his friend of
years, Trevalyon, behind them their acquaintance, small Sir Tilton
Everly. In the background, on either side of the Hall, are the
household, only a few for their master has an uncomfortably small
income, but they love him and will not leave him for filthy lucre's
sake. But they are glad of the news that their master will marry and
that a good time is coming for them.
"Thrice welcome to Haughton Hall, my dear guest," said Col. Haughton,
taking the hand of his bride-elect and leading her up the steps; "your
future mistress, and if you are as faithful to us both as you have
been to myself you will do well."
"Thank you kindly, master," said the old butler.
"We will, we will, sir," was echoed from all sides.
After a substantial luncheon, at which they were very merry, Sir Peter
Tedril joining them at table, there was a scattering of forces, Col.
Haughton giving his arm to his future wife in introducing her to her
future home.
"You say I am to make all things new if I please, Colonel."
"Even to remodelling myself, my dear Kate."
"Wise man, for I am accustomed to get my way, most days," she added,
with a side glance at Trevalyon.
And in her inspection she admired or ridiculed, laughed at or
condemned, old time-worn tapestry and furniture mouldings and
decorations, as ruthlessly as though mere cobwebs. It was finally
decided that their tour would be at once, and to New York and Paris,
from whence renovators and decorators should be imported; two or three
apartments ^only were to be held sacred; old things were to pass away,
all was to become new. The future mistress threw a good deal of vim
into her walk and talk, doing all in a business-like manner,
determined that Haughton Hall should be unequalled for luxurious
comfort. Moreover, doing her duty in allowing her future husband to
monopolize her for two or three hours; so earning her reward in
Trevalyon in the drive by rail home to the city. The demeanour of
Haughton in these hours pleased her; he was not lover-like, but
properly admiring and tractable. Once before his mother's portrait he
was very much affected, regretting she could not see his happiness,
while she inwardly congratulated herself that the stately dame only
lived on canvas.
"And now, I suppose, we have 'done' (excuse the slang) the spacious,
and I must say, the very complete home of your fathers, Colonel; and I
may close my notebook," she said, with a satisfied but somewhat
relieved air.
"Excepting the north tower, which you would please me very much by
making the ascent of; it is selfish, but I shall have you a little
while longer to myself, especially as I agree with you that I had best
stay here until tomorrow evening to set some of my people to work."
"Two heads are better than one, Colonel," and her pulses throb;
another _tete-a-tete_ with her idol made easy.
"Yes, dear, I should have been obliged to run down within the week had
I not remained."
"True, and now for the tower; which is the door?"
"Up a dozen steps; I shall have to leave you while I go back for the
open sesame."
"In here? 'tis dark; but never mind, run away."
"It is my armoury, and should be locked; but the negligence of the
servants gives you a resting place, it is so near the tower; this
large leather chair you will find comfortable."
"Thank you, that will do; lift over that box with the dynamite; look
about it for my feet."
"Beautiful feet! and my wife's," he whispered low.
"Ta, ta. I have plenty to occupy my eyes."
"Yes, I take quite a pride in my armour, from our own and foreign
lands; with the _sabre de mon pere_, Indian idols, Highland targets,
and many relics of my happiest days.".
"There, there, that will be very comfortable; by-by."
His footsteps have scarce died away when she is conscious of not being
alone, and though in the dim light, her nerves are strong and do not
give way; still she slowly arises humming an air, and as if to have a
nearer view of an Indian curiosity. Scarcely has she done so than she
is clasped in the strong arms of a man who has come from behind her,
and pillows her face closely to his breast to prevent a scream, and so
she shall not recognize him. She dreaded the return of Col. Haughton,
now that events are shaping themselves fairly well; her immediate fear
is lest any escapade should cause him to return with her to London,
which would perforce prevent her immediate escort by the man she
loves. So she allowed a tremor to pass through her, thinking to excite
pity--which she did, for he slightly loosened his tight hold.
"Let me go and I shall not scream; you may have my money or jewels,"
she said in gasps.
"I only want you, my beauty," said a voice she knew well--the voice of
George Delrose. And her face is rudely kissed again and again.
"I hope you are satisfied; I shall not ask you how you came here, for
as I have before had occasion to remark, you are Lucifer himself," she
said in cutting accents.
"Kate, don't, or you will kill me; I must know your moves or I shall
go mad."
And the strong man groans for his weakness, pressing his forehead with
both hands.
"Tedril met me at the 'Russel Club' after dining with you last night;
he then told me he was coming here at your invitation. Seeing how
dreadfully cut up I was he changed his plans, and to give me a chance
of a word with you ran down on first train to his place; we then rode
over; he managed an _entree_ to the Hall and secured me a retreat
here, loitering about the park himself until luncheon. He tells me you
are to marry Haughton; I reeled at his words, and would have fallen;
but 'courage,' I told myself, 'she is not so cruel'; tell me, my
beauty, that they lie; you could never love such an iceberg."
"You know me well enough for that, George."
"Had it been that other to whom I heard you--"
"Overheard, you mean; but one word of that, and I scream out."
"I repeat," and his voice grew fierce in its intense rage; "had it
been even said you were to wed him, I would have shot him; the other
you would be wretched with, so I am safe there."
"I confess to the being curious; did you hear the whispered nothings
of the Colonel as he left me?"
"No, I was behind the coats-of-mail at the end of the room; but I
should not have been jealous; a man _must_ make love to you; it is
yours for _me_ I dread will change; your words to Trevalyon are burned
to my memory; _but he shall never have you, I have sworn it_."
And in spite of herself she trembled, not for herself, but for the man
she loved; but recovering herself quickly, and wishing to quiet him
before the Colonel returned, said:
"How could I possibly marry a man with a hidden wife?"
Delrose, taking her face in his hands, tried in vain to read her
heart; sighing heavily, he said:
"Oh, Kate, 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."