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Updated: June 7, 2025
"The man in bottle-green livery coming to the door," said Vaura, as she left the breakfast-table, "is servant to our friend of Erin." In a few moments Saunders brought her mistress a beautiful bouquet, with the card of Sir Dennis, on which was written, "A merry Christmas to Miss Vernon." "What think you of the Irishman?" asked Lady Esmondet.
So Vaura returns and, wishing to be quite alone before Lady Esmondet joins her, steps into the conservatory, but there her sense of loneliness is so complete, that she returns to the salon immediately adjoining, and drawing the heavy brocade curtains dividing it from the others, she feels that she can give herself up to thoughts of Lionel; she knows now that he is gone; she would give worlds to have him by her side; she throws herself onto a lounge with her great white arms in a favourite attitude thrown above her head.
Haughton could, or would, think to kill time with any other man," said Vaura, warmly, a slight curl on her perfect lips. "Bravo, Vaura," said her godmother; "a woman is of very slight value if, when she marry a man worth going to the altar with, she, after a few moons wane, looks about like Moore's 'Lesbia, for some one to keep ennui at bay."
"I am selfish enough to be almost glad, as we can roam there to-morrow together," and there is a lingering emphasis on the last word as his blue eyes in a long gaze rest on her face. "Come, Lionel, you and Vaura give me some music; draw the screen between my eyes and the firelight; I shall lie on this lounge and listen."
"And how long, oh prophet, do you give us of freedom; how long before our chains are forged?" enquired Vaura, jestingly. "Ere the chill of winter is felt in our land," Bertram answered in mock earnestness. "And the cry of the farmer is heard, as he sees the black frost on the spring wheat," laughed Douglas.
I have taken all the tricks I could, and made the most of the cards in my hand, but they have not been to my liking." "My hand shall follow my heart," said Vaura, earnestly; "how I wish yours had, dear." "Yes, it has been hard for me; but Fate, the dealer, is giving you good cards." "How think you, godmother; is the game ours?" "You will win."
"Oh! no," said Vaura, taking his arm back to the sunlit morning-room, "she only goes occasionally to throw a white ball for a pretty woman." "I have sometimes come across her with Wingfield at the 'Abermarle'; she likes a little bass mixed with the treble of her life," said Trevalyon. "She is right," said Vaura, "one would grow weary of continually piping to the same key."
He loved me throughout his life, and with wealth poured his all at my feet. But no more, dearest, I hear Blanche." "How wretched the poor fellow must have been, beloved; and how blest am I." "Hush, dear, here they are;" and Vaura is at one of the windows as Everly says: "Here we are again."
They ordered the man drive towards the city in the immediate vicinity, of which Vaura alighted at a neat cottage to visit a blind protegee, one Marie Perrault, daughter of a one-time actor of no mean repute, who had taught elocution at the Seminaire where Miss Vernon had finished her education.
"The absent Marquis likes well the form of the god of wine," said Lady Esmondet, directing her companion's gaze towards a group of statuary on a small inlaid stand, and reflected in a pier glass, representing Anacreon smilingly advancing, carrying in his arms the infants Bacchus and Cupid. "'Tis a pretty group, extremely chic," said Vaura.
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