"Come, Roland," Vaura cried, "there's room for thee, most grave and
reverend _seigneur_; for you do look as grave as an owl this moment.
Is thy favourite pipe missing, or hast lost thy pet brand of that
panacea for thy every ill, tobacco?"
"No, I am not bereft of my old friend, my meerschaum pipe; but, being
only a mere sham," he added with a forced laugh, "I don't expect it to
develop qualities that will console me at parting with you and Lady
Esmondet, whose remembrance of me, I hope, will prove more than a
sham."
"A pretty speech, Roland," said Vaura, stepping from the carriage to
speak to him; "but I protest against this parting."
"You forget, Vaura, what my mission, at least my avowed mission, was,"
he said, in an undertone, "incoming to Paris; I shall now go for
Isabel. And away, you have a man with you now who never thinks or
cares for the hunger and thirst of the men near him; he drinks the cup
of sweets to the dregs himself. Good-bye; think of me sometimes, for
you must know you are always in my thoughts."
And stepping forward with Vaura, he placed her in the carriage, and
wishing all good-bye and much enjoyment, saying to Vaura and Lady
Esmondet: "Don't fail to make the Hall blithe and gay at Christmas by
your presence;" lifted his hat and was gone.
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