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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Yes, 'tis brimful of animation," said Trevalyon; and the salle a manger is preferable to privacy; when one travels, 'tis more of a change to live its life, the continuous noise, bustle and excitement take one out of oneself." "Which is a panacea for all one's ills," said Vaura. "You have not yet told us your experience in the office; was the major-domo very peremptory?" asked Lady Esmondet.
"To a death-bed! how unfortunate! What shall I do without him for my tableaux?" she was moved to tears for the tableaux. "What a pity the mighty Angel of Death would not stay his hand even for the tableaux of an English Duchess!" said Lady Esmondet, with veiled cynicism. "Yes, I think he was very cruel," sobbed the Duchess.
"Depends on the cards in his hands, and how he plays them, Sir Dennis," answered his host, laconically. "True, Lady Esmondet, and if the cards are his, the game is won, the difficulty over," said Trevalyon, with a glance at Vaura, "and bliss secured." "Faith, you're right, Trevalyon." Here Miss Marchmont's shrill voice was distinctly heard above the general hum, in animated discussion, saying,
"Yes, past doubting; not being a Christian, I am the only god my friend worships." "Women have spoiled you, Capt. Trevalyon; you boast of our idolatry." For the first time he partly reads her latent thought; and saying, hurriedly, "Stay here five minutes," rising quickly, left the boudoir. "What has he gone away so hastily for?" enquired Lady Esmondet, turning from the newspaper.
"Lady Esmondet had seen that the letter for Lionel was from Haughton Hall, and guessed his opponent is that woman, and the cards are against him, poor fellow." And Vaura said: "Isabel Douglas says firstly that she is going to wed the curate, Rev.
"Come, come, Sir Dennis, no flattery, I am jealous for the beauty of those gardens, and do not want to hear, even in jest, my poor looks would add to their charm," she answered gaily, and evading his question. Here Lady Esmondet, feeling for Lionel's torture, catching Mrs. Marchmont's eye, rose from the table, leaving the gentlemen to discuss the merits of bottles of no plebeian length of neck.
"What a grand singer!" exclaimed Vaura, as they with one consent, deserted the carriage. It was a Christmas anthem, "Regina coeli loetare, alleluia, quia quem meruisti portare, alleluia, etc." "'Tis a beautiful spot, and a great and rich voice," said Lady Esmondet; "I wonder if petticoats are admitted."
The mighty god, Society, having descended from his London throne, and with a despotic wave of the hand bid his slaves forth to some resort where fashion reigned; as a matter of course, you and I, mon ami, must go with the stream if we would not be ostracised altogether; we should dearly love to take a lazy summer jaunt with some of them; our dear Lionel Trevalyon, in his lonely pilgrimage to the North Countree, would be glad of companionship; I wish it had been his pleasant fate to make his exodus with his old friends, the Lady Esmondet and Vaura Vernon; but it was not to be.
"If that's your text, Douglas, I shall tear myself away, and pace the deck alone, if Lady Esmondet, or Miss Vernon, won't take pity on me; I don't care for sermons, nor to be classed with the tares. Who is the mannikin, Douglas," continued Bertram. "What's his name, and where's his hame; she dinna choose to tell," said Douglas.
"Where's my truant cavalier? You have never come without him? That would be too cruel." "We have; simply because he has left Rome and Italy." "Left Rome without bidding me adieu," screamed Posey, "how cruel! Eveline, ring for my drops; the shock makes me feel quite faint. Tell me how, and why, Lady Esmondet?" "His uncle, Sir Vincent was dying, is now probably over the border."
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