Vixen. Volume II

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Braddon Mary Elizabeth. Vixen. Volume II

CHAPTER I "Shall I tell you the Secret?"

CHAPTER II. Wedding Garments

CHAPTER III "I shall look like the wicked Fairy."

CHAPTER IV. The Vow is vowed

CHAPTER V. War to the Knife

CHAPTER VI. At the Kennels

CHAPTER VII. A Bad Beginning

CHAPTER VIII. On Half Rations

CHAPTER IX. The Owner of Bullfinch

CHAPTER X. Something like a Ride

CHAPTER XI. Rorie objects to Duets

CHAPTER XII "Fading in Music."

CHAPTER XIII. Crying for the moon

CHAPTER XIV "Kurz ist der Schmerz und ewig ist die Freude."

CHAPTER XV. A Midsummer Night's Dream

CHAPTER XVI "That must end at once."

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After that night Vixen held her peace. There were no more bitter words between Mrs. Tempest and her daughter, but the mother knew that there was a wellspring of bitterness – a Marah whose waters were inexhaustible – in her daughter's heart; and that domestic happiness, under one roof, was henceforth impossible for these two.

There were very few words of any kind between Violet and Mrs. Tempest at this time. The girl kept herself as much as possible apart from her mother. The widow lived her languid drawing-room life, dawdling away long slow days that left no more impression behind them than the drift of rose-leaves across the velvet lawn before her windows. A little point-lace, deftly worked by slim white fingers flashing with gems; a little Tennyson; a little Owen Meredith; a little Browning – only half understood at best; a little scandal; a great deal of orange pekoe, sipped out of old Worcester teacups of royal blue or flowered Swansea; an hour's letter-writing on the last fashionable note-paper; elegantly-worded inanity, delicately penned in a flowing Italian hand, with long loops to the Y's and G's, and a serpentine curve at the end of every word.

.....

"Send her to me at once then. Ask her not to stop to change her dress."

Mrs. Tempest and Mrs. Scobel were in the drawing-room, sitting at a gipsy table before an open window; the widow wrapped in a China-crape shawl, lest even the summer breeze should be too chill for her delicate frame, the Worcester cups and saucers, and antique silver tea pot and caddy and kettle set out before her, like a child's toys.

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