United States or Republic of the Congo ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Yes, Vaura, dear, Tennyson says truly, 'we men are a little breed." But a warmer light deepens in Vaura's eyes as a vision of a handsome face, wearing at times a weary look, flashes across her memory, and she thinks some men are worth loving, and are not of the "little breed." "What a bold-looking woman; I wonder who she is," said Lady Esmondet.
However, a-something occurred on my yielding to dear little Vaura's wish to go and induce him to return, and he has been a saved man ever since, giving up the dice from the time of his hurried return in consequence of a telegram he received before I reached him; I don't know what the motive power was, as he did not confide and, as a matter of course, I did not force his confidence.
The fresh air and new scene dispelled all Vaura's languor, and heightened the spirits of her companions. "The Corso is even gayer than usual," observed Lady Esmondet. "And with its best bib and tucker on, if I am any judge of la toilette," said Lionel. "To receive three distingues travellers," laughed Vaura; "I wonder who society will jot us down as in her huge note book."
"Only until I see you comfortably settled, dear Lady Esmondet, in still untangling the web of 'difficulty," and Vaura's hand is pressed. "I have a twelve-mile drive in a suburban train to the monastery of St. Sebastian." "Nuns and monks, the denouement will be interesting," said Vaura. "Will they win, that's the question; the other hand is full of knaves and tricks," said Lady Esmondet.
There was rather more loitering by Vaura's side than the Forester liked, so she, by a sly manoeuvre, caused her horse to rear violently; it had the desired effect, and in a few moments they were careering across the park in the wake of the rest of the party.
"You may well say so, Eric, with your noble father, sainted mother, and Vaura's mother, my dear friend, your sweet sister, Ethel, as inmates;" and in that instant their eyes met, full of sympathy.
Vaura's heart was full of pity for this gay boyish little Sir Tilton, and looking into his face pityingly, said: "Poor fellow, go back to your bethrothed and be happy in time with her; she, nor none other shall know you ever had a roving fancy for me, and this is a butterfly age and our wings were given us to fly; so n'importe, you need only send your bride to me if she ever scolds, and I shall tell her she has the gayest, kindest little baronet in all Britain."
Here some old friends came up, and several gay dancing men, Everly amongst them, and Vaura's programme was soon full. She tried to secure a few dances for rest, by this means to give a few minutes to chat with Lionel, but no one would allow it. "Don't be cruel," said one. "Your flower-face must go to the ball-room," said another. "Take pity on us; we don't carry a bouquet," said a third.
In a few minutes during which Vaura's eyes idly rest on the last beams of the western sun as they kiss the soft bands of hair and bring out the mauve tints in the rich satin robe of her now silent companion, when the door is opened wide, by a page admitting Col. and Mrs. Haughton, with Miss Tompkins, followed by Sir Tilton Everly.
And the carrosse rolls along, and Lionel with an irresistible craving, even if he comes to grief, which he tells himself there is no fear of, feels the pulse, as it were, of Vaura's heart, to see if the world has left unspoiled the tender, sympathetic, true and loving nature of the child he knew so well. "You are right, Capt.
Word Of The Day