"If he were not so careless, he could stamp it out at once," said the Colonel, impatiently. But he is careless, and Mrs. Haughton exults as she remembers it, and at the success of her plot; for does not Lady Esmondet admit it would be a bar to his union; she feels a morbid pleasure in noting critically the varied charms of her rival, as an innate feeling tells her Miss Vernon might become; and she thinks: "For you he scorned my love; pride, though you die, will keep you apart; he will come to me yet."
CHAPTER X.
VELVET PAWS CONCEAL CLAWS.
"Eric, I have a favour to ask of you," said his friend; "I am going to
Rome for a few weeks, and want Vaura with me."
"I had rather you had made any other request of me, Alice; when, and why do you go?"
"On to-morrow, after I have had an interview with Huntingdon, my lawyer (you will know him), who comes from London by appointment; and by the advice of my physician, who declares I require change."
"Change, change, that is always their cry," he answered, regretfully; "take my advice, Alice," he continued, eagerly; "come to Haughton instead."
"Rome first, Eric, thank you; home and Haughton afterwards; a few weeks will soon pass, as you say," she continued, taking his arm from the table. "I wonder what amount of change we can digest; we get nothing else; never at home; what, with the season at London, watering places, or abroad, home only at Christmas, and some of us don't even do that; but you will lend Vaura to me?"
"Yes," and her arm is pressed gently as he finds her a seat; "though it is hard. What do you say, Vaura; but your face tells me you like this change also."
"I regret this catching only a glimpse of you, dear uncle; but we, butterflies, are here to-day, gone to-morrow. I love Haughton, and long for Rome; poor humanity, how unrestful; yet with all our change, the most ennuyee of mortals."