"There would be an absence of the usual mother-in-law difficulty," lisped a young Government attache, meekly, who had recently married the only child of her mother.
"Or, if so, she would pose not as Mark Twain's, but as M. Thiers," said Wingfield, jestingly.
"I don't believe a word of it," said Posey Wyesdale, weeping profusely; "it is invented by some person who is jealous of his overwhelming love for me; but I'll let them see I shall marry him all the same."
"Give me your attention, young ladies," said Madame de Lancy, privately, and with a business-like air, to her eight daughters, who were out. "It is commonly reported that Capt. Trevalyon has a 'hidden wife;' but as it may be a complete falsehood, I wish you all—all, remember—for we do not know his style, and one of you will doubtless suit him; I repeat, I wish you all, to be tenderly sympathetic and consoling in your manner towards him; it is unfortunate that the season is just about over; but much may be done in one meeting, and I shall tell your father to invite him to dinner to-morrow; I shall have no one else to distract his attention from yourselves."
And in her own mind she decided that Mrs. Trevalyon should have at least four of her sisters on her hands to settle in life.
CHAPTER IX.
VAURA IN A MEDLEY.
The mighty god, Society, having descended from his London throne, and with a despotic wave of the hand bid his slaves forth to some resort where fashion reigned; as a matter of course, you and I, mon ami, must go with the stream if we would not be ostracised altogether; we should dearly love to take a lazy summer jaunt with some of them; our dear Lionel Trevalyon, in his lonely pilgrimage to the North Countree, would be glad of companionship; I wish it had been his pleasant fate to make his exodus with his old friends, the Lady Esmondet and Vaura Vernon; but it was not to be. And so, through the moves of the "miscreator circumstance," we are all separated until now, when I am more than glad to tell you that Lady Esmondet, with Miss Vernon, have arrived this day, 2nd Nov., '77, at Dover, having come up from gay Brighton, and are hourly expecting Col. and Mrs. Haughton, who had left by the White Star Line for New York immediately on their marriage; thence, on sending home the most artistic of American fresco workers and decorators, they spent a month amid the gay revellers at Long Branch and Saratoga; back again to the old shores and Paris, choosing from this great storehouse of the beautiful, gems in art, both to please the senses and delight the cultured and refined. With the face of Trevalyon seldom absent from her thoughts, Mrs. Haughton unconsciously chose much that would have been his own choice also. A page, in the hotel livery, tapping at the door of the sitting-room, en suite with the sleeping apartments engaged by Lady Esmondet, coming forward, hands a telegram.
"This has just arrived, your ladyship; any answer, your ladyship?"
"No; it merely states they have left by one of the new lines."