THEATRE FRANCAIS.
They found the theatre crowded from pit to dome. And the advent of our little party, as they took possession of their box, caused no little sensation even in that galaxy of beauty and fashion.
"By the lilies of France," said a Parisian, putting up his glass; "though not the three graces, one of them is there."
"Yes, by the memory of Bonaparte, she is worth a long look," said his companion, gazing at Vaura.
And two of the occupants of Mr. Bertram's box were indulging much the same thought. Lionel's handsome face wore a warmer look than ordinarily, as he chatted to Vaura, leaning on the back of her chair.
"She has the vivacity of the French woman, with a beauty all her own," he thought. "Her voice holds me, and my love of the beautiful is satisfied, as I look on her sweet mouth and warm eyes; but, pshaw, she is a flirt, and I am almost in her toils! what is coming over me?" and he gave a start as he almost spoke the last thought aloud.
"Why, what is the matter Capt, Trevalyon?" asked Vaura; "you started just now as though you had seen a ghost of the departed; a moment ago you seemed to be enjoying the play, but now you look melancholy; go over to Mrs. Wingfield. You see, cher ami, you do not credit to my powers of pleasing; so avaunt. But," she added, "you may come back some other time."
"You deserve better company than I, just now, ma belle, and Everly is aching to be with you." And rising, he took the chair Everly vacated, near Mrs. Wingfield.
"What have you done to Trevalyon? Miss Vernon," said Everly, as he seated himself beside her. "In five minutes his expression changed from unclouded happiness to the blackness of despair; queer fellow to wear such a look beside you."
"What a flattering tongue is yours, Sir Tilton; but I shall not be astonished at any outpourings of that sort from you; considering you have come from Haughton Hall, and the practice you have had in soft nothings while there."