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"
"Ah, the dear fellow sees us, and is pushing his way towards us," said
Lady Esmondet.
"The _dear_ fellow," said Douglas. "that's the way all you ladies
speak of Trevalyon, lucky fellow."
"And he, from what I hear, takes their homage as his right," said
Bertram.
"Oh! yes, as coolly as possible," said Vaura, gayly; "he's a bit of
philosopher, you know; I remember I used to wonder if he had feelings
like common mortals, and if all his loves were platonic; I vow I have
a great notion to become a disciple of Plato myself; 'twould save one
a world of heart-ache."
"Treason, treason," laughed Douglas; "better be a follower of
Epicurus."
"What nonsense you people do talk," said Bertram, in mock reproof,
"and neither of you mean a word of what you say. I now prophesy; that
out of revenge, Cupid will wound your large heart, Miss Vernon, and
you will give up to some thrice fortunate man; as for you, Douglas I
prophesy many a bumping heart-ache."
"And how long, oh prophet, do you give us of freedom; how long before
our chains are forged?" enquired Vaura, jestingly.


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