"Not so, Miss Vernon; in our day there is much to make even a woman think; you are a thinking woman, still one has but to look at your eyes to know that in spite of your graver moods you have a keen zest for what is pleasant in--"

"In this 'Vale of Tears,'" put in Douglas.

Vaura's bright expressive eyes smiled, as looking upwards, she said, feelingly:

"Yes, even though 'much salt water here doth go to waste,' one must-- some think, not I--support the weeping human who named our pleasant world a 'Vale of Tears.' No, 'tis better to let one's thoughts dwell on the song of the nightingale than the voice of the night-bat; We fear too much, and hope too little; 'tis best to dwell in the sunlight while we may."

"Yes, 'tis better to laugh than be crying," said Lady Esmondet; "and though one must go through life with one's eyes open, one need not follow the example of Matthew Arnold's 'Sick King in Bokhara,' and keep them only open to the saddening sights of sin, sorrow, and despair, that the world we know, somewhere, has so much of; one can only do what one can for those in distress; give one's mite, and give it with a kindly smile, in our world of so much to do."

"So many worlds so much to do, so little done such things to be," half sang Vaura; "but here we are at the French port, and so soon."

"One does not often find this a short trip," said Lady Esmondet; "but time has flown, all because of congenial companionship."

"Yes, he has gone too quickly for once," said Bertram; "everyone for his own pleasure; so, as I have a through ticket, I trust none of you wish to linger."

"By no means, with fair Paris our goal," cried Vaura.

"Why, surely, Bertram, you heard the solemn compact entered into on our arrival at Paris hand-in-hand, and the bearded oath I swore to be as amenable to the wishes of _la belle_ Vernon as though I were a Jack on wires; and, I appeal to all, could I promise more?"

"Yes," laughed Vaura; "you could promise to be quiet for five minutes, and endeavour to bear a slight semblance to a stolid, deliberate, dignified, wrapt-up-in-himself Briton."

"Alas! and alas for a transformation scene," sighed Douglas.

"Vaura, dear," said Lady Esmondet, "I forgot to tell you I received a note from Felicite, saying they have not as yet left for Normandy, and that we shall find them at their house in the Avenue de l'Imperatrice."

"Ah! that will be pleasant; I love the de Hautervilles root and branch; and wondered a little at their meditating a trip, with the ball for Eau Clair on the _tapis_."

CHAPTER XIII.

ADAM.

Our friends being safely in the rail coach _en route_ for the city of cities, a word of Roland Douglas; he is eldest son of the Rector of Haughton (whose acquaintance we made in earlier days on the lawn at Haughton, in chat with Col. Haughton and Trevalyon); his father is a Scotchman, who had accepted an English living at the request of his English wife. Roland, heir to a fine property from a Scotch uncle, had, since leaving Cambridge, been left to his own devices, they all frequently spending their holidays at his place, Atholdale, Dunkeld; but his home was with them, he telling them "he was too gregarious a fellow to live alone," that if the ghosts at Atholdale would be agreeable and change their hours of liveliness from midnight to midday, "he might manage to live there." And the rectory was glad to have the life of its circle in its midst.

The three Douglas children, with Vaura Vernon, had been playmates, and the days spent at Haughton Hall were among their most pleasant reminiscences. Bright, merry Roland, with courtly Guy Travers, were favourites of Vaura, each vieing with the other to win her favour, fighting her battles with biped and quadruped, both boys coming to love her with the whole strength of manhood, only to eat their hearts out alone, as others, now in her womanhood, were doing, while Vaura would tell herself, not without a heart-ache, that, "it grieved her to say them nay, but she cared for them only in the dance, only in the sunshine; that in the quieter walks of life, she would long for a spirit more in kinship with her quieter, her higher nature."

Vaura had spent so much of her life with her uncle and G.o.dmother, that the men they loved to have about them had probably spoilt her taste for the very young men of to-day. Both she and her G.o.dmother, had many friendships among men, believing the interchange of thought to be mutually improving. Indeed, in most cases they trusted their faithfulness, their sincerity, more than that of their own s.e.x. And, alas! with good reason, men having a larger share of that greatest of gifts, charity! their knowledge of human nature making them rarely censorious, their education giving them larger, broader views; how many women, alas, are essentially censorious, uncharitable and narrow-minded. Yes, nature has been lavish in gifts to Adam, as opposed to Eve.

Roland Douglas had not as yet told his love to Vaura, a great dread mastering him lest he had not won her love, for her merry banter and kind sisterly manner led him to fear her heart, that he coveted beyond all that earth could give, was not for him, but he told himself he must speak, and that soon, for longer suspense was more than he could endure; he hoped that her sympathetic nature might tell in his favour, and that in pitying his great loneliness, she would come to him.

CHAPTER XIV.

OF LIONEL TREVALYON.

Meanwhile our friends are rapidly nearing Paris, and, even as we speak, their train is at the depot.

"Ah, here we are, and our pleasant journeying _pour le present_ a thing of the past," said Lady Esmondet.

"How long a stay do you make here?" asked Bertram, giving her his arm to a _carrosse_.

"The Fates only know; _la belle_ Paris offers so many attractions, that I have decided not to make up my mind in the matter, for I always am seduced into staying a much longer time than I had previously intended; there is always so much to amuse one."

"And such a legion of people to see," said Vaura; "there is no place like Paris for enchaining one, and causing one to love one's chains."

"Look, quick," cried Lady Esmondet, hurriedly, "some one; is that Captain Trevalyon over there, evidently looking for some one, or is it his spirit?"

"It is he in the flesh; and looking anything but _spirituel_," said Vaura as she thought, "Yes, she would know him anywhere; her knight; so different to any other man she meets."

Yes, Vaura, so we all think when our king comes; beware, guard your heart, if you would not yield to this fascinating man who slays at will.

"Stay, foolish heart," thought on Vaura, "you are even now feeling less interest in Roland, who would die for you; fill thy whole being with a careless gaiety, and leave no room for a softer feeling to master thee; remember the 'hidden wife,' and even should she not exist, remember hearts are his game."

"Ah, the dear fellow sees us, and is pushing his way towards us," said Lady Esmondet.

"The _dear_ fellow," said Douglas. "that's the way all you ladies speak of Trevalyon, lucky fellow."

"And he, from what I hear, takes their homage as his right," said Bertram.

"Oh! yes, as coolly as possible," said Vaura, gayly; "he's a bit of philosopher, you know; I remember I used to wonder if he had feelings like common mortals, and if all his loves were platonic; I vow I have a great notion to become a disciple of Plato myself; 'twould save one a world of heart-ache."

"Treason, treason," laughed Douglas; "better be a follower of Epicurus."

"What nonsense you people do talk," said Bertram, in mock reproof, "and neither of you mean a word of what you say. I now prophesy; that out of revenge, Cupid will wound your large heart, Miss Vernon, and you will give up to some thrice fortunate man; as for you, Douglas I prophesy many a b.u.mping heart-ache."

"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.

"Delighted to see you, Lady Esmondet," said Trevalyon, taking off his hat and shaking hands; "and you also, Miss Vernon, it is more than ages since I have had any more than a glimpse at you. Allow me to welcome you all to fair Paris; Colonel Haughton a.s.signed me the very pleasant role of attendant cavalier during your stay here, as also body guard to your royal highnesses on your journey to the Immortal city, whither I too am bound; why, Douglas, you here, and wherefore? I thought you had not yet deserted your winged loves at Atholdale; any good shooting this season?"

"Yes, pretty fair," answered Douglas, disappointed at the way things were turning out, and wishing Trevalyon at South Africa, or any where, so he was not by Vaura's side. He knew Trevalyon to be a man of cultivated intellect, with a fascination of manner all women succ.u.mbed to, with fully ten years more experience of life than his own, and with a nice knowledge of all types of women. He knew him to be the dread of all mothers with marriageable daughters, both for themselves as disturbing their calm resignation as to what husband Fate had given them, as also the sad havoc he made among their brood; of how they plumed their feathers at his coming and drooped them at his going, causing many an eligible suitor to retire from the field. Society wondered that Trevalyon did not range himself, seeing so many beautiful women his conquests. He shrugged his shoulders when chaffed by his men friends as to his flirtations and cruelty, and would say:

"A slave of the ring is not a _role_ I have any wish to play; at all events none of the pretty women I have flirted with so far have had the power to hold me as her own. And until I meet a woman who can hold me, and keep me from a wish to rove, I shall keep my freedom."

Then he would laugh and say: "After all, _mon ami_, I am not as cruel, cold, or flirting as yourself. Your motto after as well as before marriage is: _Si l'amour a des ailes n'est-ce pas pour voltiger_.

Better to act on that principle prior to (as you say I do), than after marriage, as I know you all do; better not put the shackles on until one meets a woman who will cause one not to feel them. As to your charge of heartlessness against me, trust me; you say I know them; under the amiable exterior of some of the most gentle-voiced and loveliest, there throbs a cruel heartlessness.

"After all there is a good deal of the feline in woman, witness the many marriages, ninety-nine out of every hundred are made by our fashionable women, for money or position? Yes, they like the warm corner, it matters not who gives it; and the man who loves them, and whom they love--in a way, may eat his heart out alone; for no, they will not listen to his pleadings, he has no gold. And they marry a man to whom they are perfectly indifferent, not so to his belongings, these they love with all the love of their feline hearts. No, I am not cruel, I only amuse myself as you do, and in the way each likes best."

He acknowledges there must be women who are heroines, and perhaps he may yet meet them, but as yet, he "only knows in G.o.d's world there must be women men might worship."