Do you know well, dear reader, any of those large villages which are scattered over what may be called the Mantuan plain? They deserve not, indeed, the name of towns, though they often approach them in size. I mean such places as San Felice, Gonzaga, Bozzolo, Sanguinetto, and others of that class, which now present a number of small scattered stone houses, with gardens generally around them, and a road running through the midst; and here and there a much larger house falling rapidly to decay, with no windows to keep out the storm or the tempest, and very often the roof completely off, while the tall square tower, which is certain to be found stuck somewhere about the building, rises one, if not two stories above the rest. The church is generally placed upon any little rising ground, sometimes at one extreme of the village, sometimes in the middle, with the priest's cottage close by; but in any of these at the present day, you might as well look for an inn as for the shop of a diamond merchant, unless you chose to call by that name the little hovel, surrounded by a garden, where, on festival days, the peasantry go to drink their glass of Rosolio and water, wine, lemonade, or, since the Austrians have bestrid the land, vermouth.
In the days I speak of, however, when journeys were almost always performed on horseback, and cross-roads shared more liberally with highways in the patronage of travellers, those larger houses which I have mentioned were all inhabited by wealthy contadini, who often combined with their ordinary occupation of farmers the more lucrative calling of inn-keeping. The large farms which they held furnished abundance of provisions for any accidental guests, and the upper parts of the house, though scantily decorated, were kept ready for the reception of travellers, in case the blessing of heaven, the plague in a neighbouring town, or the bad reputation of the high road, brought the wayfarers to villages in preference to cities. Very different, indeed, were the customs and habits of such inns at that time, from those which have prevailed within the last century, or, perhaps, even more; for though not more than two hundred and fifty years have passed, yet from the end of the sixteenth to the beginning of the seventeenth century, were times of great change in the habits and manners of all the nations of Europe; and at the small village inn in Italy, instead of seeing waiters, tapsters, or drawers, or even barmaids and chambermaids, all running eagerly to receive the unexpected guest, the landlord would rise up from under his fig tree or his olive, with a courteous salutation, and his sons and daughters would be called upon to attend his guests.
Such was the reception of the Earl of Gowrie and his companions, at the little inn in the village which I have described upon the banks of the Po. One of the first houses they met with was a large building, such as I have described, with its tall square tower of five stories at one corner, the whole situated at the distance of a hundred yards from the road, with a farm-yard in front. On the left of that farm-yard was a vineyard, rich with grapes; and from a pole leaning over the wall, hung suspended a garland, as indication sufficient that hospitable entertainment was to be found within. The host himself was seated under a tree in the vineyard,pigliar la fresca, as he called it himself; but no sooner did he see the party enter the court-yard, than up he started, notwithstanding his age and his fat, both of which were considerable, and hurrying forward to do the honours to his guests, called loudly for Bianca and Maria, and Pietronillo, to assist in making the visitors comfortable. The whole house was bustle and confusion in a moment; and although it could not afford accommodation to all, yet the Earl of Gowrie and his own immediate companions found every thing they could desire. Austin Jute was immediately sent back to bring his fellow-servants, who were coming down the river with the horses; and the boatmen were lodged in the neighbouring houses, to fill the pitying ears of the villagers with moving tales of disasters undergone.
Such details were not wanting to excite the interest, and in some degree the wonder of the host, his daughters, and his son. There was something in the air, the countenance, and even in the dress of the gentlemen who made the house their temporary residence, which seemed to show that they were foreigners; yet two of them spoke the language with the most perfect purity even of accent, and not the slightest tone of their fair companion indicated that she was not a native of the country. But then, in her case, her dress was that of a mere Paduan peasant on a gala day, while her language, her manners, and her whole appearance, denoted a much higher station, and from time to time she spoke to her companions in another tongue, without the slightest appearance of difficulty or hesitation. The pretty country girl, too, who aided her to change her wet garments for others which she kindly and willingly supplied, brought down the report that every part of her dress but the mere gown and bodice, were of the very finest materials, and that she had taken from her bosom a trinket shaped like a heart, surrounded with what seemed to her, jewels of inestimable value.
The rooms which were assigned to the travellers were somewhat difficult to allot, for each, as was and is still very common in Italian houses, opened into the other; and the young earl had determined that thenceforth Julia should be guarded by himself. When he pointed out, therefore, as they passed through them, the end chamber of the whole suite as that which was best suited to her, and took possession of the next for himself, good Mr. Rhind's severe notions seemed a little shocked, and though he did not venture to make any observation, he looked exceedingly grave.
Lord Gowrie took no notice, though he did not fail to remark the change of expression, for from the few private words which had passed between himself and Julia, he felt that the time had come when it would be necessary very speedily to give whatever explanation he thought needful. It could not, indeed, be afforded at the moment, but a few minutes after, stopping one of the daughters of the host, he said, "Stay a moment, Bianchina. The signora may be alarmed at sleeping in a strange house alone. You must kindly take the other bed in her chamber."
"With much pleasure, sir," replied the girl, and tripped away. This being arranged to the satisfaction of Lord Gowrie, and even to that of Mr. Rhind, there remained another feat to be accomplished, which was, to obtain a quiet unwatched private conversation with Julia, in which he might learn all that had befallen her. The few words which she had spoken on the bank of the river had given him a general knowledge of the greater misfortunes which had happened, but to a heart that loved as his did, the smallest particular, the most minute detail was interesting. He longed to hear her tell all, to comfort her for all, and his imagination, which was quick and eager, painted all that she had endured--the sorrow, the terror, the agitation. He grieved bitterly that he had not been present to protect and to console her at the time when such evils had over-shadowed and such difficulties obstructed her path of life, and he thirsted to pour the balm of sympathy and affection into the gentle heart so bruised.
Many an obstacle presented itself, however, during the next hour, to any private communication. The whole house was in a bustle; beds were to be made, rooms arranged, supper prepared. Julia had to change her dripping garments and to obtain others; the earl to give various orders, and to bestow the promised compensation upon the boatmen; the host, his son, his daughters, and a maid were running from room to room, and chattering with everybody; the servants who had been left to follow with the horses arrived to increase the numbers and the confusion, and some time after Austin Jute made his appearance, bearing the little packet which Julia had carried with her from Padua.
"Nothing is lost," he observed, "but what is at the bottom of the sea. Search saves seeking. All deep things have a bottom."
It was easier to obtain speech of him than of Julia at that moment, and the earl soon learned all that Austin himself knew--the death of good old Manucci, the wild and absurd rumours which had spread after his decease, and the risk which the beautiful girl herself had run of being committed to prison upon the charge of taking part in the old man's supposed unlawful arts, and being imbued with heretical notions. The means taken to effect her escape were then detailed, and Austin Jute went on to say, "We got on very well that night, my lord, and reached a little country inn which I remembered well, at Battaglia, where, although the accommodation was poor enough, I thought we should be in safety. I was forced to tell many a lie, it is true, and say that the young lady was my sister, which the people believed, because we spoke nothing but English to each other, although the family likeness is not very great, and she was dressed like an Italian girl. The next morning, however, I found that there were people out in pursuit of us. One of the sparrow-hawks had stopped at the inn in the night to refresh his horse and himself; and refreshing himself somewhat too much, he chattered about his errand, for when the wine is in, the wit is out, my lord. The people of the place were all agog about it, for they had not had a bit of sorcery and heresy for a long time; and from their talk I found that he was going towards Rovigo to give orders at the ferries and the bridges for apprehending us. That forced us to turn out of our way, and cross the Adige higher up; but I made up for lost time by selling the two asses, and buying two good horses, and we crossed the country between the Adige and the Po quick enough. The difficulty was how to get over this great river, for I did not doubt that our picture had been painted at every passage house; and besides, I had seen, two or three times, a man who seemed to me watching us. I went along the bank, therefore, till I found the boat in which we did try to cross just ready to start with some of the peasants. For a high bribe the man agreed to take us and our horses, though it's against the law; but just as we were putting off, down came the black looking fellow whom I had seen several times following, jumped off his horse, tied the beast to the boat post, and forced his way into the boat. All the rest you know, my lord, and all I can say is, if he was upon a bad errand, the fellow has gone to answer for it. He tried hard to drown me, but I would not let him."
Such was Austin Jute's brief tale; and in a few minutes after, the boatman, Mantini, came in to receive what had been promised him. His calculation regarding the value of the boat which had been lost seemed to be just and even moderate; and after having paid him his demand, the earl added ten Venetian ducats more.
"I cannot recall your brother to life, my good friend," said Gowrie, "nor can I compensate for his loss to you and others; but if he has left any children, distribute that small sum amongst them, on the part of a foreign gentleman who sincerely commiserates their misfortune."
The rough boatman, with the quick emotions of the south, caught his hand and kissed it, saying, "God bless you, sir!" He then turned away towards the door, but paused before he reached it, and coming back, he said in a low voice, "I hear you know the signora who was in our boat; and I think, from the way you looked at her, that you love her. If so, start to-morrow morning at daybreak, avoid Ferara and all this side of Italy, and get into the Parmesan, or some place where they will not look for you."
The earl gazed at him for a moment in silence, and then replied, "This is indeed a valuable hint, my good friend, if you have just cause for suspecting any evil intended against us. So far I will acknowledge you are right: the young lady is well known to me, and her safety is dearer to me than my own."
"Ihavejust cause, signor," replied the man. "The river has delivered the signora from one of those who were pursuing her, but there are others watching for her at Ferara, and all along the course of the stream. The man who came into our boat just as we were putting off--he who was drowned, I mean--told me, in a whisper, that he was a messenger of the holy office, and bade me run to Occhiobello at once, to ask the podesta for assistance to apprehend the lady and the man who was with her, as soon as we landed from the boat. It was that made me say he brought a curse with him, for he seemed to rejoice as much at the thought of catching a poor young thing like that, as others would at making her happy. I heard all about the plans they had laid for taking her; and he said it was the duty of every one to give instant information. I shall give none, and you are safe for me; but there are other people here who will be chattering, and the noise of the loss of the two boats, and the drowning of two men, will bring plenty of inquiries to-morrow morning. If I can put them on a wrong scent, however, I will."
The earl thanked him warmly for his information, and then held a hurried consultation with Hume, to which, at the end of a few minutes, Austin Jute was called. It was evident, no time was to be lost in preparing for a very early departure on the following morning. Horses had to be purchased, to supply the place of those which had been drowned; and it seemed also needful to procure a different dress for Julia, as it was now clear that the persons in pursuit of her had obtained information of the costume in which she had left Padua; and moreover, her travelling in the garments of a peasant girl, with three gentlemen in a high station in society, would assuredly attract attention at every inn where they stopped. Where or how this change of apparel was to be obtained, proved a very puzzling question; for although the use of ready-made garments was in that day much more common than at present, yet it was not to be expected that the village could supply such, nor that even Occhiobello possessed a shop where anything of the kind could be obtained.
"I will go and talk to one of the girls of the house about it," said Hume. "There is supper being served, I see. You go in, Gowrie, and partake, while I seize upon Bianchina or her sister, and try to discover what is to be done."
He was more fortunate than might have been anticipated, for he found the two daughters of the innkeeper together, and quite willing to enter into conversation or gossip upon any subject he chose. Nevertheless, it was not very easy to explain to them what he wanted, without explaining, at the same time, Julia's dangerous and painful situation; but when he had at length accomplished the task, well or ill, the younger girl looked at her sister with an expression of intelligence.
"So," she said, "the lady wants a dress, does she? and that is all. Well, I think that can be easily procured for her. Don't you remember, Bianca, the Venetian lady who was here last year, and left a coffre behind her?"
"Well," replied the other sister, looking shrewdly at Sir John Hume, "I thought, when first I set eyes on her, that the signora was not peasant born. Now, I'll warrant me, she has stolen away in disguise from home, some dark night, to meet her lover here; and the wild river had well nigh given them a mournful bridal bed--'tis very strange that all the elements seem to make war against love. I never yet heard of any of these stolen matches going forward without being crossed for a while by storms and accidents."
Sir John Hume thought it might be no bad policy to suffer the turn which the light-hearted girl had given to the fair Julia's flight and disguise, to remain uncontradicted; and he replied, laughing, "Well, thou art a little divineress. Don't you think I'm a proper man for any fair lady to run away from home to mate with?"
"No, no," answered the girl, with a shrewd glance; "it is not you she came to mate with; it is your friend; and you stand by, like the dog by his master's chair, watching the good things provided for him, and only taking what scraps he gives you--Ha! ha! gay signor, have I touched you?"
"By my faith you have, and hit hard," replied Sir John Hume; "but I will have a kiss for that, Bianchina, before we part."
"It must be in the dark, then," cried the girl, laughing, "for fear I should see your face and not like it."
"But about this Venetian lady's goods and chattels, my two pretty maids," said the young knight, recurring to the subject. "We cannot break her coffre open and steal her apparel."
"Trouble not your brain with that, gay signor," answered the girl Maria. "We will not make you take part in robbery."
"Unless you steal my heart, and I lose it willingly," replied the knight.
"No fear of that; it is not worth stealing," replied the girl. "If it has been bestowed on every country girl you meet, it must be well nigh worn out by this time. As to the apparel, it belongs to us, now. That sweet lady's case was much of the same sort as this one's. She fled from a hard father at Venice, and came hither to meet her lover, and fly with him to Bergamo; but, by some mischance, it was nine whole days before he found her, and all that time we hid her close, though the pursuers tracked her almost to our door. We used to sit with her, too, and comfort her, and talk of love, and how fortune often favoured it at last, after having crossed it long. At the end of the nine days, the young marquis came and found her; but as they were obliged to fly for their lives on horseback, the coffre was left behind; and when she got home and was married, she wrote to bid us keep it for her love, and divide the contents between us. They are not garments fit for such as we are; long black robes, which would cover our feet and ankles, and trail upon the ground, mantles and hoods, and veils of Venice lace. We cut up one velvet cloak, to make us bodices for holidays, but that is all we have taken yet; and we can well spare the lady garments enough for her journey, and more becoming her than those which now she wears."
This was very satisfactory news to the young Earl of Gowrie, when his friend joined him at supper, after parting from the two gay girls above, with an adieu better suited to the manners of that day than to our notions in the present times. As soon as supper was over, he hastened with his friend and Julia to conclude the bargain for the contents of the Venetian lady's coffre; and, to say truth, though good-humoured, lively, and kind-hearted, the innkeeper's two daughters showed a full appreciation of that with which they were parting, and did not suffer it to go below its value. To make up, however, for this little trait of interestedness, Maria and Bianchina set instantly to work with needles and thread and scissors, to make the garments fit their new owner; and leaving Julia with them, after a whispered petition that she would join him soon in the gardens, the earl went down again to the eating room, purposing at once to enter in explanation with Mr. Rhind, in order to save grave looks or admonitions for the future.
He found his former tutor, however, sound asleep, worn out with the fatigues and anxieties of the day, and soothed to slumber by a hearty supper and a stoup of as good wine as the village could afford.
"Faith, Gowrie," said Sir John Hume, "I could well nigh follow old Rhind's example; but I may as well stroll through the village first, and see what is going on. There is nothing like keeping watch and ward. Will you come?"
The earl, however, declined, and strolled out into the gardens, which extended to the banks of that little river which, taking its rise somewhat above Nonantola, joins the Po not much higher up than Occhiobello.
The moon was clear in the heaven, the skies in which she shone were of that deep intense blue which no European land but Italy or Spain can display; there was an effulgence in her light, which mingled the rays with the deep blue woof of the night heavens so strongly, that the stars themselves seemed vanquished in the strife for the empire of the sky, and looked out but faint and feeble.
In a small arbour covered with vines, on the bank of the stream, sat the lady Julia and her lover. The bright rays of the orb of night floated lightly on the water, changing the dark flowing mass into liquid silver, while a hazy light poured through the olive, the fig, and the vine, giving a faint mysterious aspect to the innumerable trees, and enlivening various spots upon the dull, cold, gray earth, with the yellow radiance of the queen of night.
I believe it is as fruitless as difficult to try to analyse the feelings of the human heart, when that heart is strongly moved by the impulses implanted in it by nature, called into activity by accidental and concurring circumstances. That nature has laid down a rule, and that the heart always acts upon it with more or less energy, according to its original powers, I do strongly believe; but it seems to me fruitless, or at all events but little beneficial, to investigate why certain bosoms, especially those of southern climates, are moved by more warm and eager feelings than others. The operation of man's mind and of his heart are as yet mysteries; and no one who has ever written upon the subject has done more than take the facts as they found them, without at all approaching the causes. We talk of eager love; we speak of the warm blood of the south; we name certain classes of our fellow-beings, excitable, and others, phlegmatic; but we ourselves little understand what we mean when we apply such terms, and never try to dive into the sources of the qualities or the emotions we indicate. We ask not how much is due to education, how much to nature; and never think of the immense sum of co-operating causes which go to form that which is in reality education. Is man or woman merely educated by the lessons of a master, or the instructions and exhortations of a parent? Are not the acts we witness, the words we hear, the scenes with which we are familiar, parts of our education? Is not the Swiss or the Highlander of every land educated in part by his mountains, his valleys, his lakes, his torrents? Is not the inhabitant of cities subjected to certain permanent impressions by the constant presence of crowds and the everlasting pressure of his fellow-men? Does not the burning sun, the arid desert, the hot blast, teach lessons never forgotten, and which become part of nature to one class of men; and frozen plains, and lengthened winters, and long nights, other lessons to the natives of a different region? Give man what instruction you will, by spoken words or written signs, there is another education going on for ever, not only for individuals, but for nations, in the works of God around them, and in the circumstances with which his will has encompassed their destiny.
Perhaps no two people upon earth had ever been educated more differently than the two who sat together in that garden, and yet, strange to say, in the character of each had been produced traits which, while they left a strong distinction, disposed to the most perfect harmony. Gowrie, born amidst rich and wild scenery, had passed his earliest days in troublous and perilous events. Constant activity, manly exercises, dangerous sports, and wild adventures, had been alternated with calm study; and acting on a mind of an inquiring and philosophic turn, and a frame naturally robust, had increased and early matured the powers of each. Thus had passed his days to the age of seventeen, and then a perfect change had taken place in his course of life. Removed to Padua, he had devoted himself for some years solely to the cultivation of his understanding; and had followed eagerly, and with extraordinary success, inquiries not alone into the lore of ancient days, but into those physical sciences which were then known but to a few, and often perilous to the possessor. Love had come at length to complete the education of the heart, just when the education of body and mind was accomplished.
Julia, on the contrary, had been snatched, at a period beyond her memory, from the dangers and difficulties which had surrounded her infancy. She had passed the whole period of early youth in calm and quiet studies, directed to unite every grace and accomplishment with strength of mind and firmness of principle. No tender, no gentle affection had been crushed; her spirit had been embittered by no harshness; her heart had been injured by no disappointment; no rankling memory of any kind was in her bosom, and her affections had been cultivated as well as her understanding. Bright and cheerful, deep-feeling, and true by nature, a sense of duty had been given her as a guide and not a tyrant; and her attachments and her enjoyments, limited to a very small sphere, had gained intensity from their concentration upon few objects.
And there they now sat, side by side, with her hand locked in his, telling and hearing the tale of the first great griefs which she had ever known. Youth forms but a faint idea of mortality till the dark proofs are placed tangibly before its eyes. We know that those we love must die; but hope still removes the period, and draws a veil over the terrors of death. She had sometimes sat and thought of it--especially when her old relation had pointed out that the great enemy of the mortal frame was approaching more and more closely to himself--but she had never been able to realize the grim features as they appeared to her now, when she had seen them near; and now, when she spoke of the loss of him in whom, for so many years, all her feelings and her thoughts had centered, she leaned her head upon Gowrie's shoulder, and the tears flowed fast.
It was natural--it was very natural that she should cling with but the stronger affection to him who now sat beside her. The first strong love of woman's heart had been given to him, and that is intense and absorbing enough; but he was now the only one; there was no partition of affection with any other being in the world; neither brothers nor sisters, nor parents nor friends, shared her thoughts or divided her attachment. The cup of love was full to the brim. Not one drop had been spilt; and it was all his own.
Nor were his feelings less intense towards her, though different; for man's part is ever different in the great moving passion of youth. To protect, to defend, to befriend, is his allotted portion of the compact between man and woman; and to feel that he was all in all to her, that she had none to look to but him, that then and for ever her fate rested on his power and his will, that his arm must be her stay, his spirit her guide, his love her consolation, rendered the deep passion which her beauty, her grace, her gentleness first kindled, but the more warm and ardent. It was pure, and high, and noble, too. He forgot not at that moment the promises which Manucci had exacted from him. He proposed not to himself or her to break them. He told her all that had passed; and though he expressed regret that such delay must interpose before he could call her his own, and showed how much easier, safer, and happier their course would be, if she could at once give him her hand at the altar, yet he expressed no desire at that time to deviate from the conduct pointed out. Pledged to follow it, it seemed to him but as a road traced on a map, which, though circuitous, would lead in the end to happiness, and from which they could not turn aside without losing their way entirely. It was only how they could best tread that path that they considered; and there, indeed, much was to be thought of and provided for. The first object was to place the fair girl in safety; for although a sad smile came upon her countenance at the absurdity of the accusation, when she spoke of the suspicions entertained against her, yet those were days when innocence was no safeguard, and the unreasonableness of a charge was no security. The only course to be followed seemed that which had been pointed out by the boatman, Mantini--namely, to ascend the river as rapidly as possible, without venturing into the Venetian territory, and then to pass straight through Piedmont and France, to England.
"We shall have time enough, as we go, dear girl," said the young earl, "to examine the papers which your grandfather gave me, and to judge what our course must be when we reach Scotland. The first thing to be thought of, however, is security, and therefore we had better set out by daybreak. Doubtless, my good man Austin can procure a couple of horses before that time, and if not, two of those which bear the baggage must carry a saddle, and the packages follow by some other conveyance."
"I will be ready when you bid me," replied Julia, "and do what you bid me, Gowrie; but there was one injunction which he whom I have lost, laid upon me, when he told me to accompany you to Scotland. He bade me engage some women to go with me as servants, saying that it might seem strange if I journeyed with you all alone.--I know not why it should seem strange," she continued, raising her eyes to his face; "for whom have I to trust in but you? and who, but you, has any right to protect and guide me?"
Gowrie smiled, and kissed the fair small hand he held in his; but he answered at once, "He was very right, dear Julia. Itwouldseem strange; and men might make comments more painful even to me than to you. The harsh, hard world neither sees, nor tries to see, men's hearts; but wherever there is the opportunity of evil, supposes that evil exists. Our poor friend was right; maids you shall have to go with you; but it is impossible to engage them here: nor, indeed, would it be prudent to attempt it. At Mantua, or Piacenza, we shall be more free to act; and in the meantime I will tell good old Mr. Rhind of the exact situation in which we are placed, to prevent him from coming to any wrong conclusions--I mean the gentleman who sat next Sir John Hume at supper; he was formerly my tutor, and will return with us to England."
"Oh, yes; tell him--tell him," replied the lady, eagerly. "He gazed at me often during the meal, and I felt the colour coming to my cheek, I knew not why. It seemed as if he doubted me, and did not like my presence with you."
"Nay, it is not exactly so," replied her lover. "He is a good and gentle-minded man, only somewhat too much a slave to the world's opinion. As soon, however, as he knows all, he will be quite satisfied, and aid us to the best of his power. And now, dear Julia, seek your rest; for you will have but little time to repose; and we must make quick journeys and long ones till danger is left behind."
The earl did not calculate altogether rightly upon Mr. Rhind's ready acquiescence. Whether it was that he had been suddenly awakened in the midst of his sleep by the landlord lighting the tapers in the eating hall, or whether it was that the portion of wine he had taken, though not sufficient to affect his intellect, had been enough to affect his temper, I cannot tell; but certain it is, that he assumed a tone with his former pupil which roused some feelings of anger.
"I wish to speak with you, my lord," he said, as soon as Lord Gowrie entered the room alone.
"And I with you, my dear sir," answered the young earl. "What is it you desire to say?"
"Why, there is something very strange here, my lord," said the other, while Gowrie seated himself. "You are suddenly and unexpectedly, as it seems, joined by a young woman of very great beauty, with whom you are evidently very well and intimately acquainted, but whom I have never seen or heard of before. Now, my dear lord, neither my character nor my principles will permit me----"
"Stop one moment," said the earl, interrupting him. "I wish to guard against your saying anything that may be offensive to me, and which you would yourself regret hereafter. Already you have used the term 'young woman,' when you should have said 'young lady,' for her manners, as well as her appearance, should have taught you what her station is. However, as I came here to explain to you my own position and hers, I may as well go on, and save you needless questions. She is a lady of birth equal to my own, with whom, as you say, I am well acquainted, and have been so long. She is plighted to me to be my bride; and but for the loss of her nearest, and indeed only kinsman in this country, I should have gone on to find and claim her at Padua, and would there have introduced you to her under more favourable circumstances."
He paused in thought for a moment, doubtful as to whether he should tell Mr. Rhind the absurd suspicions under which her whom he loved had fallen; for he knew his good tutor well, and did not believe that those suspicions would appear so ridiculous in the eyes of his companion as they were in his own.
Mr. Rhind, however, instantly took advantage of his silence to reply. "What you tell me, my lord, alarms me more than ever. What will your lady mother--what will all your friends and relations think of your marrying a strange Italian--a runaway, as it seems, from her home and her family, a follower, of course, of Popish superstitions and idolatries, a worshipper of the beast, a disciple of the antiChrist of Rome? I must desire and insist----"
"You will insist upon nothing with me, Mr. Rhind," replied Gowrie, in a low, but somewhat stern tone. "Pray do not forget yourself; but remember that your authority over my actions has long ceased to exist--had, indeed, ceased before I made this lady's acquaintance. Old friendship, respect for your virtues, and personal affection, may induce me to condescend so far as to give you explanations of my conduct and my purposes; but it must be upon the condition that you lay aside that tone altogether."
Mr. Rhind found that he had gone a little too far; but yet he did not choose altogether to abandon his purpose, and he replied, "Well, my lord, my part can very soon be taken. It is true, as you say, that you are your own master; but still I have a duty to you and to your family to perform, which I must and will fulfil, and, having done so, we can then part upon our several ways if you think fit. That duty is to represent to you the consequences of a course----"
"Of which you know nothing," answered the earl, "being utterly and entirely ignorant of the whole facts, and assuming a number of positions, every one of which is false. Your logic and your prudence have both failed you, my good sir; and as you still speak in a tone I dislike, I think it will be much better to drop a discussion which seems only likely to end in a diminution of both my respect and my friendship."
"You are very hard upon me, my lord," replied Mr. Rhind. "I am not conscious of having deserved such treatment, and all I can say is, if I have done so, I am ready to make any atonement in my power, as soon as you show me that such is the case."
"That I can show you instantly," answered Lord Gowrie; "for I am sorry to say that you have undoubtedly erred in every one of your conclusions, and should have known me better than to suppose that I would act in a manner derogatory to my character, to my station, and to the faith in which I have been brought up."
"The passions of young men," said Mr. Rhind, gravely, "will often lead them to act contrary even to their own judgment."
"I might reply to that observation somewhat severely," said the earl, conquering a strong inclination to retaliate; "but I will not do so, and will merely show you, how you have suffered prejudice to warp your own judgment. You have said the lady is an Italian. On the contrary, she is my own countrywoman, the daughter of a house as noble as my own. You have said that she is a papist, a worshipper of the beast, a follower of the antichrist of Rome. These are harsh words, sir; and they are all false. She is a protestant. Her father was a protestant, her mother, her grandfather. As to the latter, by whom she was educated, he was driven from his native country on account of his testimony against the superstitious vanities of that very church of Rome--do not interrupt me.--You have said that she is a runaway from her family and friends. There you are as much in error as in all the rest. She has fled to me, on the death of her only surviving relation in this country, to escape persecution; and one of the principal charges upon which that persecution is founded, is that she could never be brought to attend upon the superstitious observance of confession, or ask absolution at the hands of a mortal like herself. And now, my good sir, having heard the facts, let me tell you my intentions. I have undertaken to escort this young lady back to her native country of Scotland; to claim for her, and if possible to restore to her the estates of which she has been unjustly deprived; and I have promised to make her my wife at the end of about twelve months from this time. All this I will perform to the letter. Nay more, I should conceive it a duty, in the situation in which she is placed, to urge her at once to give me her hand, had I not bound myself solemnly to refrain till the period I have mentioned is past. This promise I will also keep, though in keeping it I render the rest of the task I have undertaken more delicate and difficult; but of course I shall consider it a duty to take every means in my power, by all tokens of outward reverence and respect, to shield her, not only from reproach but from suspicion, while travelling under my protection to her native land. You may aid me to do so if you will, and in so doing, I believe you will be performing a Christian act; but still, if after what I have said you entertain any hesitation, I do not press you to do so, and leave you to act perfectly as you think fit."
Mr. Rhind had bent down his head, feeling, with a good deal of bitterness, that he had placed himself greatly in the wrong; and that although he might still entertain great objections to the course which the young earl was determined to pursue, and be anxious to urge upon him considerations to which he attached great importance, his arguments would seem weak and without force, after the injustice of his first conclusions had been so completely proved. There was a little struggle in his breast between mortified vanity and the consciousness of having shown himself rash and prejudiced; but various prudential considerations arrayed themselves on the side of humility, and he answered, in a low and deprecatory tone, "I grieve most sincerely that I have done the young lady wrong; and I rejoice most sincerely, my lord, to find that whatever other objections may exist, your affections have been fixed upon one so sincerely attached to the protestant faith. My only apprehension now is, as to what your lady mother may think of such an engagement entered into without her knowledge and consent."
"Leave me to deal with my mother, my dear sir," replied the earl; "I know her better than you do, and entertain no fear of the result. She is far too wise a woman to assume authority where she possesses none, but that which affection and reverence give her. Nay, more, she is too kind and too noble not to approve of what I have done and what I intend to do, when she finds that no reasonable objection stands in the way of my affection, and that the object of my love is in herself worthy of it. Do I understand you right that it is your purpose to bear me company as heretofore, and to assist me in escorting this young lady to her own land with decency and propriety?"
"Most assuredly, my dear lord," replied Mr. Rhind, "if you will accept my services; and I do hope and trust that you will not mention to the young lady the prejudices I somewhat rashly entertained, for it might lose me her favour, and make her look upon me as an enemy instead of a friend."
Lord Gowrie smiled, and gave him his hand, saying, "Make your mind quite easy on that score. I will make no mischief, my dear sir. And now we had better all perhaps seek repose, as it will be needful for us to set off by daylight to-morrow, and to alter our whole course, taking the way towards Piacenza, as I dare not cross any part of the Venetian territory, lest my beautiful Julia should fall into the hands of the hateful Inquisition."
"God forbid!" exclaimed Mr. Rhind, to whom the Inquisition was an object of the utmost terror and abhorrence. "If she run such risks for conscience sake, well may the dear lady merit the love and reverence of all good men."
The treaty of peace thus concluded, the earl and his former tutor parted for the night; and Gowrie proceeded to inquire what had become of Hume, and to ascertain the result of Austin Jute's efforts to procure horses for their journey of the following day.
On one of the spurs of the Apennines, where that large chain, which forms as it were the spine of Southern Italy, approaches most closely to the Mediterranean at its northern extremity, just about half way between the fair town of Piacenza and the frontiers of Piedmont, there stood in those days, and there stands still, an inn, to which the inhabitants of the neighbouring city frequently resort in the summer months, to enjoy the cool upland air and the beautiful scenery. It is situated a little higher up than Borgonovo, and then bore the name of La Festa Galante. The scenery round is wild and uncultivated, but full of picturesque beauty, with myrtle-covered hills sloping down gently to the wide plains of Lombardy, which lie stretching out to an immense extent till sight is lost in the blue distance. Ten days after the events which I have related in the last chapter, the Earl of Gowrie and his fair companion were seated on the slope of the hill, at about a quarter of a mile from the inn, gazing down with delight on the splendid landscape beneath them, while the setting sun poured his last rays over the mountains and the plain, and gilded the steeples and the towers of Piacenza, making the city look much nearer than it really was. The distance might be some seventeen or eighteen miles, and the period of the year had passed when the inhabitants of the town were accustomed to come thither to escape the heated streets and crowded thoroughfares. There were no other guests in the house but the earl and his party; and a more quiet and secluded spot could not well have been chosen for fugitives to rest after a long flight, or lovers to pass a few days of happy repose. The proximity of another state, too, by crossing the frontier of which security could soon be obtained, might be one reason why the earl had selected that spot as a place of temporary sojourn after the fatigues and anxieties which Julia had lately endured, for Voghera was not farther distant than Piacenza, and the actual boundary was within two miles of the inn.
All was calm and still around them. Mr. Rhind sat reading a little farther down the hill. A servant girl, who, with a sort of adventurous spirit which often characterizes the peasantry of that part of the country, had agreed to quit her home at Borgonovo, and accompany the strangers into distant lands, was plying the busy needle within call. The sleepy evening sunshine and the blue shadow crept in longer and longer lines over the short turf and the scattered myrtle bushes, and overhead, stretched out like a canopy, the broad dark branches of four or five gigantic pines, while, at a little distance along the face of the hill, was seen peeping out a Palladian villa, with large chesnut trees, serving rather to break the hard straight lines than to conceal that a house stood there. The villa indeed was uninhabited, for its owner had retired into the city for the cooler and more rainy months of winter; but still it gave to a scene unusually wild that air of habitation and society which, under most circumstances, is pleasant from the associations produced.
Their conversation was not gay, but it was cheerful--far more cheerful than it had been since last they met; for memory of the dead had darkened the horizon behind them, and frequent apprehension had spread clouds over the prospect before. At several places where they had stopped by the way, causes of alarm had occurred; and even at Piacenza they had found reason to doubt their security. A man, who had known Mr. Rhind in Padua, had met him in the streets, and told him a distorted tale of poor Manucci's death and Julia's flight, declaring boldly that the old man had been addicted to unlawful arts, and that it was suspected his granddaughter had aided him in their pursuit. He added, however--what neutralized in the mind of his hearer the effect of his tale, as far as poor Julia was concerned--that she was clearly guilty, because she had never been known to come to confession or seek absolution of the priest. Now, however, both Gowrie and her he loved felt in security, for he had taken measures to guard against surprise; and the memory of the loss she had lately sustained had been somewhat softened by time and the rapid passing of many stirring events. Gowrie strove to cheer her, to remove apprehension, to efface the traces of the first deep sorrow she had known; and though gaiety would have jarred with her feelings, yet a cheerful tone mingled with deep thought, will often find its way to a heart which would reject direct consolation and fly from painful merriment.
On the preceding day she and Gowrie had read together the papers which had been intrusted to him by Manucci, and the perusal had been sad; for there she found the tale of all that her parents had suffered, and though she could not but rejoice to feel that no disparity between her own rank and that of her husband could make his friends look cold upon her, yet the impression--at least the first impression--was melancholy.
He had marked it at the time, and would not recur to the subject now, but spoke of other things of a lighter nature, but which had more or less connexion with deeper and stronger feelings.
"It is indeed a fair spot of earth, this pleasant land of Italy," he said, as they gazed over the scene before their eyes; "and yet, my loved Julia, there is always something sad in it to my sight. The memories of the glorious past contrast so strongly with the painful realities of the present, that I can never enjoy these bright scenes without wishing that a happier lot had been assigned to those who inhabit them."
"But there are bright things here still," replied Julia; "if the glory of arms is gone, the glory of arts still survives."
"And policy has succeeded liberty," said Gowrie, with a faint smile; "but let us not, love, dwell upon regrets. How gloriously the rays of the setting sun are painting, almost with ethereal splendour, that highcampanileand the old castle by its side, while the purple shadow, resting upon the village below, marks it out upon the illuminated bosom of the hill. There may be more peace, perhaps, under that obscurity, than in the sun-lighted towers above. I am resolved, dear girl, to seek no glories. See!--even now the splendour is passing away, and the gorgeous fabric is almost lost to sight. No, no! content and happiness are jewels better worth the seeking than all that ambition can offer or power can give."
"Thank Heaven you feel so," answered Julia; "but tell me, Gowrie, something of your own land--of my land too--of our land. I fear me, from the way in which you admire the scenes we pass through here, that it wants that beauty which charms you so much."
"Oh, no!" answered Gowrie; "it has beauties of its own, far different, but not less great. Its skies are often full of clouds, and its air of mists; rugged and stern are many of its features, and its winds are cold and strong. But those clouds give infinite variety to all they pass over; and if it be not a land of sunshine, it is at least a land of gleams. The shadow and the light wreath themselves in airy dance over the prospect, and the purple heath and yellow broom supply to us the myrtle and the gentia, hardly less fragrant, and in nought less beautiful. Then, the grey mists--let them not scare you--for when they rise in the morning rays from out the valleys, winding themselves round the tall hills, they look like a grey cloak trimmed with gold wrapping the limbs of the giant genius of the land. Then, though the features of the landscape are, as I have said, bold and rude, they attain in the sublime what they lose in the beautiful, and striking the imagination elevate the mind.--Yet there are many beauties too, soft and gentle and pleasant to look upon; for it is not all the deep dim lake, the rocky mountains, the roaring cataract; but there are scenes as sweet and placid as any even in this bright land; and where you find them, they seem like a smile upon a warrior's face in a moment of peace and repose."
"I shall love it, I am sure," replied Julia; "for though I have seen but little of this wide world, yet I have often gazed at beautiful pictures with feelings that I can hardly describe--a love and a longing to penetrate into the deep glades, to roam amongst the rocky hills, to trace the glistening river through the woods, to see how the lake ends amongst the mountains, to solve all the mysteries which the painter has left to be the sport of fancy. But I have ever, though pleased with both, loved those pictures best which show me grand and striking scenes. They seem to lift up my heart more directly unto God. The rocks and mountains seem the steps of his temple, his altar on the summit of the hills. But what like is your own place at Perth?"
"Our place," said Gowrie, pressing the small hand that lay in his; "'tis a large old house in one of the most beautiful cities in the land, with wide chambers and long galleries.--But look, my Julia, there is a horseman coming along the road from Borgonovo, and spurring hither at great speed. It must be my good fellow Austin, who is watching there; and lo! there are two others following at a somewhat slower pace. Hola, Catharina, call out the men! We need not fear the coming of two men, if there be no more behind. I think that second figure looks like Hume. He does not ride in the Italian fashion. But still he could hardly have reached Padua, and followed us hither so soon. The first is certainly Austin, and he spares not the spur."
They stood and watched him, while some three or four servants, well armed, as was the custom of that day, came out and ranged themselves near their lord. In the meantime, the first horseman was lost to their sight, plunging in amid some brown woods which lay at the bottom of the slope. Then, re-appearing, he rode more slowly up the steep hill, while the other two who followed were in turn concealed by the wood.
In a few minutes, Austin Jute sprang to the ground by his lord's side, saying, "Sir John Hume, my lord, is coming up; and I rode forward to warn you."
"You should not have left the village, Austin," said the earl; "I bade you stay, unless you saw cause for apprehension."
"True, my lord," answered the man; "but I have other tidings too. Bad tidings make the messenger ugly, so I told the good first. I fear you will have to move in the cool of the evening, for there is a fat dominican, a slink official, and two servitors, down there below, who, I wot, seek no good to the signora. I talked with them easily, and made myself as simple as a dove for their benefit. But there need be no hurry and no fear, lady," he continued, seeing Julia's cheek turn somewhat pale, with that sick-hearted feeling which comes upon us amidst the anxieties of the world, when we have known a brief period of repose, and the fiend of apprehension appears at our side again. "Cheer up, cheer up! there are only four of them, and we more than double their number. They wont get much help from the podesta, who is an atheist, thank Heaven! Besides, full barrels roll slow, and they are now filling themselves with both meat and drink. It was their first call, and I bestowed on each of them a bottle of a wine which I knew to be heady on an empty stomach."
"Here comes Hume," said the earl. "Keep watch on that point of rock, Austin. In half an hour it will be dark; and methinks they will not travel after sun-down."
"If they do," answered Austin Jute, "I will undertake to rob them of their breviaries, and make them think a single man a whole troop of banditti; for, being cruel, they must be cowards--at least I never saw those two bad things apart."
"Nothing of the kind, if you please, Jute," replied the earl, who had little doubt, from long knowledge of his servant's character, that he was very likely to execute in frolic what he proposed in jest. "Go where I have told you, and watch the road well till night falls, or till I tell you to return."
"I suppose, if I see them trotting up, I may ride down to bid God speed them, my lord?" said Jute, taking two or three steps away. "I heard one of the learned professors at Padua say, 'Always meet a coming evil;' and he added some Latin, which I don't recollect."
The earl did not reply, but turned to greet his friend Hume, who, as gay and light-hearted as ever, shook his hand with a jest, saying, "Here is a letter for you, Gowrie; may it bring good news, though it came last from an evil place. Dear lady, you may well look lovely, for you have turned the heads of all the doctors of Padua, only it unluckily happens that the effect of beauty, like that of the sun, is changed by what it shines upon, bringing forth fruits and flowers in the garden and the field, and hatching viper's eggs upon a dunghill. They all declare you are an enchantress; and though Gowrie and a great many more may think the same thing, it is in a very different sense."
"They do me great wrong," answered Julia, sadly; "and they did wrong to him who is gone, for his whole mind was turned to doing good to his fellow-men, and certainly never dreamed of evil. If all people were as innocent of guile as he was, we should have a more peaceable world."
"They are not very peaceable in Padua," replied Hume, "for there has been a riot, and many broken heads. I have to thank it, perhaps, for being here, however, for the worthy council of asses had well nigh made up their minds to cause my arrest for having pronounced Gaelic, Gaelic; and I do believe, if they did not understand Italian, they would pronounce it magic also. Well, what news, Gowrie? If your epistle be as placable as mine from the same hand, your affairs will go smoothly, and happiness have a green turf to canter over. For my part, I shall go through the rest of Europe like a shot out of a culverin, till I stop rolling, at dear Beatrice's pretty little feet."
While he had been speaking, Lord Gowrie had been examining the contents of the letter which his friend had given him; and although his eye had been straining eagerly on the page with a look almost approaching to anxiety, as is the case with most men of strong feelings, when they receive written tidings from distant friends, there was a smile upon his lip which showed that the contents were not unsatisfactory. We may as well look over his shoulder, however, while he stands there with the letter in his hand, and read the words that it contains for ourselves. Thus, then, the epistle ran:--