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Updated: June 7, 2025
But "he cometh not," she said, was still the burden of her song, so she determined to "beard the lion in his den," though she would be obliged by so doing to become acquainted with Miss Vernon, and she was one of those women who, invariably envious of a more beautiful sister, keep them at arms' length. She could not but own to herself how beautiful Vaura was.
"I shall telegraph of our return without fail, Lionel; and now about yours to your cousin, had you not best run away and attend to it, we shall only take a short drive, and be here as soon as you." "Come with us," said Vaura, "it will save time." "So it will, and to kill the time I feel that is left to me with you, would be a Sacrilege." "What route do you take, Lionel?" enquired his friend.
"I am more than glad, Vaura, ma chere, that Dame Fortune is playing so smilingly into dear Lionel's hands," said Lady Esmondet, as she read aloud the letter she had received from Trevalyon on the morning of the 30th.
"To the theatre!" exclaimed Trevalyon; "I was not aware this was on the tapis for this evening." "Yes," said Lady Esmondet, "Mr. Bertram and I arranged it; M. Octave Feuillet's play, the "Sphynx," is on. I begin to think it was selfish on my part, you all look so comfortable; perhaps we had better abandon it." "Put it to the vote," cried Mrs. Wingfield. "And no bribery," echoed Vaura.
"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.
Her tone was too eager to please Delrose. "Confound the fellow, I must lose no time," he thought, savagely, as Vaura replied, laconically: "Sir Lionel Trevalyon will be here for the ball." "Trevalyon to be here to-night! You never told me, Vaura."
You observed, I suppose, how, much flesh she had; well, she loses weight every month; secret pining I expect for that naughty" and Vaura stopped short as she saw the name, a curl of contempt coming to her lip as she read silently "Trevalyon.
"Your friend," said Vaura, with a swift thought to the hidden wife, "must think you the extreme of fashionable to receive at the witching hour of midnight." "My friend does not care whether I be fashionable, but worships me, and would be with me morning, noon and night." "You speak as if you believe," she said, veiling her eyes, and idly picking off the leaves of the roses.
"Yes, I don't feel quite myself, Lionel; and Italy will be sun-warm, what I require, my physician tells me; but the air on the water has given me such an apetite, I feel better already." "The very scene we are in is enough to cure one; so bright, so gay, chic in every way," said Vaura.
"From Earl Beaconsfield to music is a long look, but let us take it," said Lady Esmondet; "Miss Marchmont, will you sing for us?" As Miranda asked Rev. Robert what it should be, Vaura said in an undertone to Trevalyon: "I do admire the clever Earl immensely, and not only because it is the decree of the god of fashion."
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