CHAPTER XXXII.
A GRASS WIDOW.
Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop Not to outsport discretion----
Maud found Mrs. Vereker's promises of hospitality and enjoyment fullyverified. The change from the Camp was delightful; the extra fourthousand feet of altitude made life a luxury. Energy, in a hundreddifferent forms, returned to her: some new spring of life quickened herpowers alike of mind and body. Mere existence once again becamedelightful; the pleasant consciousness of health and strength again puther in high spirits. The dull routine in which she had been living oflate seemed in retrospect extremely dull. She missed her husband andwrote him enthusiastic letters to tell him so; but a hundred freshpleasures and interests rushed in to fill the vacant space and to deadenthe feeling of regret. And then it had been settled that as soon as theinspection was finished Sutton should get leave to come up and writehis report at Elysium, so that their separation promised to be a veryshort one.
Mrs. Vereker's cottage was the scene of a great many quiet but enjoyablefestivities. She had the most charming little luncheon parties, overwhich she presided with a modesty, liveliness, and grace which herguests found irresistible. There was not much to eat, but each one inhis turn received a smile and a glance from the purple eyes and foundhis glass of sherry turning into nectar before him. These happy guestswere mostly military; and he must have been a severe critic indeed whowould have denied them the merit of faultless attire, good looks andchivalrous dispositions. The very atmosphere was infectious withflirtation. Mrs. Vereker kept a little court of gentlemen, each with hisacknowledged position in the hierarchy of adorers. Nor did she appear toquestion that her guest would do the same. She took for granted thatMaud would accept Desvoeux's proffered politeness; she laughed a littlegentle laugh at her girlish scruples, and turned her sweet eyes upon herin amused wonderment at such innocent prudery.
'My dear child,' she said, 'what are we poor wives to do? Sit, with ourhands crossed, singing hymns and thinking of our _cari sposi_ in thePlains? How would my good man be the better if I went out moping forrides all alone, instead of being attended by my cavalier? Besides, noone ever would believe that one was alone, and one would be gossipedabout as much as ever. And then did not your old Othello wish thatBoldero was here to look after you? No, no, I don't find "moping" amongthe other disagreeable things we vowed to do when matrimony marked usfor its own. And then you must know that three is quite an impossiblenumber at the Hills--the paths are too narrow, happily--and three is anodious number, which ought to be turned out of the arithmetic-books. Soyou must start a flirtation not to interfere with mine. Besides, Mr.Desvoeux is too charming. I only wish that he would flirt with me!'
So Maud found herself taken possession of by Desvoeux, and assigned tohim as a matter of course in the set in which she was living. The worstof it was that she found it rather pleasant. It was, of course,convenient to have some one ready to fetch and carry, who was always onthe look-out for one at parties and only too delighted at having anycommand to obey. It was all above-board and recognised as right. Everyone knew that there was not the least harm in it. The only drawback wasthat Maud found it very difficult to describe the state of things toJem, and her letters grew shorter than was right. Mrs. Vereker was toovolatile, too frivolous, too much in love with herself and the worldaround her, to allow of her companion lapsing into a serious mood. Shespent hours over a succession of toilettes, each of which wasperfection; hours more in designing how such perfection should beachieved. High spirits and fun pervaded her every thought, but dress wasthe matter about which Mrs. Vereker was most nearly feeling serious. Thetwo ladies had a long discussion over the attire which would do mostjustice to their charms at the Viceroy's Fancy Ball.
'I can't go as a Marquise,' said Mrs. Vereker, 'because powder does notset my eyes off well, and paint spoils my complexion. I mean to beNight--holy, peaceful Night--black tulle, you know, with a crescent moonglittering on my forehead, and little diamond stars twinkling, twinklingin both my ears, which you know are loves. See, now!' And Mrs. Verekercaught up a great piece of muslin which was lying on the sofa, threw itover her shoulders, turned her beautiful violet eyes to the ceiling, andwent sliding across the room with a sweet, demure smile and gracefulundulations.
'See, now!' she cried, 'don't you feel the moonlight and thenightingales and the tinkling folds, and how very sacred and peaceful itall is? I shall be furious if at least sixteen men don't break theirhearts about me. But, my dear, you shall be a _vivandiere_ and show yourpretty ankles; or a Normandy flower-girl, with a high cap and crimsonpetticoat. Or why not be Morning, and dance in my quadrille; a RisingSun, with rays?'
'Oh no, thank you,' Maud answered; 'I intend to have a quadrille of myown. I leave you the sun, moon, and stars to yourself. Mr. Desvoeux isarranging one for me out of Sir Walter Scott--something historical andromantic.'
Then Desvoeux would come (oftener than ever, since this HistoricalQuadrille gave a new excuse for frequent calls) and turn everything intoridicule. 'As usual,' he told them, 'Mrs. Fotheringham has been tryingto drive a bargain. The two young ladies are to go as MediaevalPrincesses; and poor Giroflont, who had come all the way from Calcuttato dress the ladies' hair for the Fancy Ball, stipulated for hisaccustomed five rupees a-head. Fotheringham _mere_ stuck out for three.Giroflont rejected the suggestion with scorn. "Impossible, madame," hesaid, "ce sont des coiffures historiques!" So exit Mrs. Fotheringham ina fury.'
'And the poor girls will have to go as milkmaids,' said Mrs. Vereker.'What a shame! And what a mother!'
'And what a father!' said Desvoeux. 'He has just been to interview theAgent and has made us both extremely ill. Such vapid dulness!
He spoke of virtue--not the gods More purely when they wish to charm Pallas and Juno sitting by; And with a sweeping of the arm, And a lack-lustre dead-blue eye Devolved his rounded periods.'
'What a comfort you must find it, Mr. Desvoeux,' said Mrs. Vereker, 'tofly for refuge to eyes that are neither lack-lustre nor dead-blue! Now Icome to think of it, though, I believe dead-blue is just the shade ofmine.'
'Yours!' said Desvoeux, in a tone of fervour which spoke volumes.
'These poor girls!' cried Maud, 'how shamefully they are dressed!Perfect Quakeresses!'
'Quakeresses!' answered Desvoeux; 'but Quakeresses are too charming,dear little tender doves, in the softest silk and freshest muslin. Isuffered agonies once upon a time on account of one.'
'Profane!' cried Mrs. Vereker; 'Quakers are really a sort of monks andnuns, only that they happen to have husbands and wives.'
'Yes,' said Desvoeux, 'monasticism without its single recommendation!'
'Rude man!' Mrs. Vereker cried; 'let us send him away, Maud. I shouldlike to know, sir, what would become of you without us married women?'
'What indeed?' cried Desvoeux; 'but, you know, when the Pope offeredPetrarch a dispensation to marry, he declined on the ground that hecould not write poetry to his wife.'
'That reminds me,' said Mrs. Vereker, 'that I must write some prose tomy husband, and Mrs. Sutton some to hers; and the post goes inhalf-an-hour. Mr. Desvoeux, you must really go.'
'I obey,' said Desvoeux, with a sigh; 'my exile from paradise is cheeredby the thought that I am coming back at four to take Mrs. Sutton for aride.'