"Too true, Vaura, ma chere; Madame Grundy is an odd mixture of inconsistencies; should a vulgar parvenu pay society's tolls in shape of boastful charities, balls and dinners, he is one of the pets of the season, and is allowed any latitude as to his little weaknesses. Had Lionel made atonement by marriage, all would have been forgiven; but he has dared to please himself, and so they at the first chance pelt their idol."
"Their idol, yes," said Vaura, musingly; "could this falsehood be the invention of some disappointed woman who has taken for her motto the words of Honorius, that 'there is a sweeter strain than that of grief-revenge, that drowns it.'"
As she ceased speaking, the voice of Trevalyon is heard quieting Mars, who is leaping wildly in welcome. And now he is with them; and as with smiles and warm hand-clasps he is welcomed, he feels that this is home. Vaura, who has been colouring some photographs, lets her hands fall idly to her lap, as she listens to the manly voice which, coming in and joining its music with their own, she feels makes their life complete.
"Yes, I have dined, thank you, and do feel more like myself than I have done since the weight of this scandal has been upon me; but I shall not worry myself or you with naming it. I turned my horse's head east, and always find a day with Nature so exalts and uplifts my whole being that life, again is filled with the calm, clear star of hope, and that my burden of care falls to the dust under my horse's feet; my spirit is again buoyant; I again live. And what have you both, my charming home angels, been about? you look yet as if a sun-warm bath would be your best medicine, Lady Alice."
"You are right, Lionel; you have had the sunbeams to-day; I must bask in them on to-morrow (D.V.) I feel fatigued even yet, though lazy enough to have kept my room until dinner hour."
"You have explored the gardens, I suppose, ma belle."
"No, that is a pleasure to come; I, too, was lazy today."
"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."
"Is not this an ideal music-room?" said Vaura, "opening as it does into the conservatory; and see Euterpe, standing in her niche, with flute and cornet at her feet, violin and guitar on either side, and the perfection of pianos, with this sweet-stringed harp;" and, sinking into the low chair beside it, she drew her fingers over the strings.