"Yes, you come, too," and the boy's hand slipped into hers.
And so Vaura, her trailing skirts of cream satin, front width richly embroidered in gold floss, with the perfume of tea roses from her corsage and bouquet she carried, in all the fulness of her rich beauty, with proud head bent as she chatted with the dark-eyed, black-haired boy beside her, followed Trevalyon with his burden and the priest who walked at his side.
CHAPTER XLII.
ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE.
"Outwitted this time," mused Madame, greatly mortified at seeing Vaura retire with the group, "but I must make one more appeal to him alone," and tapping Lord Rivers on the arm with her fan, said gaily, "To the halls of Comus; we want a change of scene, black is a trying colour."
At this moment Blanche, her hand on Everly's arm, entered from the dining-room, whither with cunning forethought she had told him just five minutes previously she wished to go, with "I feel played out after all this sensation, we had best go for something exhilirating," thinking, as she returned "he'll stand it better now, and I'm not one moment too soon," leading her unsuspecting escort up to Madame, who stood leaning on the arm of Lord Rivers, her husband near welcoming late arrivals; and the air was sweet with perfume, and laden with the ceaseless murmur and everlasting whir-whir with the music of the laughter of the beautiful, the noble, and the fair, and as they follow, and crowd around Madame, their goal, the ball-room, some condole with others on their later entree, saying, "Oh, darling! what! you have missed such a sensation!" or "Oh! you should have been here earlier, Lady Eldred, our pet of pets, Sir Lionel Trevalyon, is free;" or "a nun nobodys child, and no end of fun, Stuart," again, "no end of a time, Delrose has posed as Lucifer, Trevalyon, as all the angels."
"Vaura Vernon is here, I am among her slain; she's a nymph, a goddess and a woman; she's the only one for me," said Chancer, feelingly.
"All the others are frocks and frizzes," laughed his friend, who had never seen her. "Listen, Chancer, what's the go now? that little girl with all the tin, red eyes, pads and bustles, is getting up a row of some sort; let's get in."
The face of Mrs. Haughton was a study and the groups about her reflected the various emotions depicted there. For Blanche had said, the white mouse, wearing her innocent air "Oh, step-moma darling!"
"Never used a term of endearment before; going to say something nasty," thought Mrs. Haughton.