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"You forget the proprieties, Kate, and though I like not the fruit, I'll play gooseberry," and seating himself he coolly poured out a glass of champagne. "Shall I make my adieux, Mrs. Tompkins; it grows late?" said Trevalyon, about to rise from his chair.
"One does sometimes forget the most important part of one's luggage," said Vaura. "But," said Trevalyon, "I'll wager Bertram did not forget your mental food." "Not he, with his aldermanic taste for spicy dishes," said Vaura.
"To the brim;" and his eyes turn at last from Vaura's face as he says, "you had better drop me here, at the telegraph office while you turn into the Corso," and stepping from the landau, lifting his hat he was gone. "I wonder," said Vaura, "should poor Sir Vincent die, if Miss Trevalyon will return to New York."
"Eleven! o'clock," exclaimed the rector, "I must bid you both good-night; Haughton, you have my best wishes; we shall be more glad than I can say to have you among us again, and the other dear ones, Lady Esmondet and our sweet Vaura; good-bye, Trevalyon, I am full of regrets, that in giving you Dame Rumour's words, I have lent an unpleasant tone to your thoughts.
The afternoon is occupied until it is time to dress for dinner by visitors. With dinner comes Lady Esmondet, Trevalyon not having returned it is a tete-a-tete affair; afterwards in the salons, the conversation drifts from fair Italia, the after-luncheon visitors, and the London Times to Lionel.
Such thoughts as the above often came to Lionel, in his lonely wanderings far away from the gay cities, a life which he adorned with such gay abandon when one of them. Captain Trevalyon assisted his friends to alight in front of a handsome house in a fashionable avenue. "Can this be the right address," said Lady Esmondet.
He, like any other man, would have feared to leave the woman he loved with a man so fascinating as Trevalyon. Vaura, in the second or two of their hesitation, had time to recover outward composure.
"Consider the Continental on the programme, my dear Miss Vernon; Mr. Bertram's chef de cuisine will cater to the inner man," answered Trevalyon. "Women sometimes eat," said Vaura, demurely. "How gay the streets look," remarked Lady Esmondet, "it is always a fete day a Paris."
Here a tap at the door called the priest; returning he said: "Captain, Trevalyon, I must bid you adieu, my time belongs to the church, and I trust you will find that the church will aid you in making the truth tell." "I thank you, Father Lefroy; accept this gold for God's poor." "Merci, adieu." "Adieu."
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.
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