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CHAPTER LVIII. THE VILLA LIFE

It is not at this the eleventh hour of my story, I can stop to dwell on the life of the villa at Cattaro, though I am free to own it was about the sunniest bit of landscape our long journey has offered us.

Seated, or lying on the grass, under the shade of a broad-leaved fig-tree, they listened to Jack’s adventures, told with a quaint humor, of which they, who knew him well, could appreciate every shade and tint In his days of prosperous fortune it was rare to hear him speak of himself. The routine life he led seemed to develop little or nothing of his real nature; but now, dependent as he was altogether on intrinsic qualities, for whatever estimation he might obtain, owing nothing to station, it was remarkable how his character had widened and expanded, how his sympathies with his fellow-men had increased. Though nothing could be farther from his nature than any mawkish sentimentality, there was that show of trustfulness, that degree of hopeful belief in the world at large, which occasionally led Julia to banter him on his optimism; and this, be it said passingly, was the only show of freedom between them, – their manner to each other from the moment they met being marked by a studied reserve on each side.

“And surely, Prince,” said she, calling him by the title which in honor of his dress they had given him, “surely you must have met some charming creatures at the galleys. All the good qualities of human nature were not reserved for the cockpit or the steerage, or whatever it is.”

“Aye, even at the galleys they were n’t all bad, though it’s not exactly the sort of place men grow better in. I had a capital old fellow as comrade, and, I take shame to say, I ought to have thought of him before this. I say, George, have you any friends of influence at Naples? I wish I could get my old companion his liberty.”

“George has gone in to write to Augustus,” said Nelly; “but if Lord Culduff could answer your purpose, I ‘d ask Marion to interest him in the matter.”

“There’s a dear good girl, do write a line to Marion; tell her it’s the greatest favor she could bestow on me. The poor fellow is a political criminal; he only shot at the king, I believe; and where they do that every week or so, it’s hard to make it a capital offence. I ‘ll give you his name and his number when I go into the house.”

“The post leaves early,” said she, rising. “I must do this at once.”

“Wait till I have finished this corner of my netting, and I’ll go with you,” said Julia.

“I say No to that,” cried Jack. “I ‘m not going to be left alone here. If that’s the way you treat a distinguished guest, the sooner he takes his leave the better. Stay where you are, Miss Julia.”

“But I shall have no work, Master Jack. My net will be finished in a few minutes.”

“Make cigarettes for me, then. There ‘s the bag,” said he, lazily.

“I declare, our Bohemianism progresses famously,” said she, half tartly. “What do you think of this proposal, Nelly?” The question came late, however; for Nelly was already on her way to the house.

“Don’t go, that’s a good girl. Don’t leave me here to my own thoughts, – they ‘re not over jolly, I promise you, when I’m all alone.”

“Why, it’s your good spirits that amaze me,” replied she. “I don’t remember seeing you so cheerful or so merry long ago, as you are now.”

“You mean that I wasn’t so happy when I had more reason to be so? But what if I were to tell you out of what a sad heart this joy comes; how every day I say to myself, ‘This is to be the last of it!’ Not,” said he, in a bolder voice, “that I want to think about myself; this terrible disaster that has befallen my family is infinitely worse than anything that can attach to me. Even yet I cannot bring myself to believe this great smash.” She made no answer, and he went on: “I can’t make out if Nelly herself believes it. You all wear such cheerful faces, it ‘s not easy to understand in what spirit you take this reverse.”

“I think that your return has recompensed Nelly for everything.”

“She was always the best of us; it’s no great praise, that same; but I mean – but it’s no matter what I mean, for you are laughing at me, already.”

“No, indeed, I was not. If I smiled, it was in thinking how little all your casualties have changed you.”

“For that matter, I suspect we may compliment or condemn each other, whichever it be, on equal terms.”

“So at last I have got you to say a civil thing to me. You tell me I am the same delightful, fascinating creature you knew me long ago.”

“I said nothing about fascination,” said he, sternly.

“Not directly, of course. Your tact and delicacy were proof against such indiscretion; but you know you meant it.”

“I ‘ll tell you what I know: I know that I never saw a girl, except yourself, who liked to pain – aye, to torture – those who cared for her; who would infinitely rather indulge her mood of mockery than – than – ”

“Pray, finish. It’s not every day I have the fortune to hear such candor. Tell me what it is that I postpone to my love of sarcasm?”

“I ‘ve done. I ‘ve been very rude to you, and I ask your pardon. I was not very polished in my best of days, and I take it my late schooling has not done much to improve me. When I was coming here I swore an oath to myself that, no matter what you ‘d say to me, I ‘d not lose temper, nor make a resentful answer to anything; and now I see I ‘ve forgotten all my good intentions, and the best thing I can do is to ask you to forgive me, and go my ways.”

“I ‘m not offended,” said she, calmly, without raising her eyes. “I suppose if the balance were struck between us, I did more to provoke you than you did to wound me.”

“What is this I hear about being provoked and wounded?” cried Nelly, coming up to where they sat.

“Your brother and I have been quarrelling, that’s all. We thought it the pleasantest way to pass the time till you came back; and we have succeeded to perfection.”

“I declare, Julia, this is too bad,” cried Nelly.

“But why ‘Julia’? Why am I singled out as the culprit? Is he so above reproach that he could not be in the wrong?”

“I know I was in the wrong, and I ‘ve said so; but now let Nelly be judge between us. Here is the way it began – ”

“The way what began, pray?” asked Julia.

“There, now, that’s the way she pushes me to lose my temper; and when she sees I ‘m angry she grows all the calmer.”

“She’s downright disagreeable,” said Julia; “and I don’t know why a frank, outspoken sailor condescends to speak to her.”

“Well, he ‘s pretty sure to get the worst of it,” muttered he.

“Poor Jack,” said Nelly, caressingly. “And for all that he likes the ill-treatment better than all the flatteries he meets elsewhere.”

“That shrug of the shoulders does not say so,” said Julia, laughing. “Come,” cried she, with a merry voice, “let us do something more worthy of this delicious morning. Let us have a walk up the mountain; we can have shade all the way.”

“What’s that little dome, – there, above the trees?” asked Jack.

“That’s the campanile of our little chapel. I ‘ll fetch the key, and we ‘ll go and visit it. We ‘ve not been to see it yet.”

“But George would like to come with us;” and so saying, Julia hastened away to find him.

“Oh, Nelly, I love her better than ever, and she scorns me even more,” said he, as he hid his head on his sister’s shoulder.

“My poor dear Jack; how little you know her! You never sorrowed over your last parting as she did. We have had all of us great reverses. They, as well as ourselves; and that spirit of Julia’s – there is another name for it than mockery – has carried her through her troubles better than a more pretentious philosophy.”

“But she is not even friendly with me, Nelly. None of you make me feel what I have sunk to as she does.”

“There, again, you are unjust – ”

“Right or wrong, I’ll bear it no longer. I only wait now till Gusty comes back. I want to shake his hand once more, and then, girl, you have seen the last of me.”

Before Nelly could reply, Julia and her brother had joined them.

“Here ‘s news,” said George, showing a letter, – “Augustus will be with us to-morrow; he only writes a few lines to say, – ‘I have nothing particularly cheering to report, and it will all bear keeping. I mean to be at home on Wednesday next. I am all impatience to see Jack; the thought of meeting him more than repays me my reverses here. Give him my love. – A. Bramleigh.’”

“We shall have plenty to do to prepare for his arrival,” said Julia. “We must postpone our visit to the chapel. Would this illustrious prince condescend to help us to move tables and chests of drawers?”

Jack threw a very significant glance towards Nelly, as though to say, “She is at the old game.”

“Well, sir? I wait your answer,” said Julia.

“For twenty-four hours I am at your orders,” said Jack.

“And then under what commander do you serve?”

“Captain Fortune, I suspect,” said he, gravely. “A gentleman, or lady, perhaps, that has shown me no especial fondness up to this.”

“Jack says he is going to leave us,” said Nelly, as her eyes filled up.

“But why?” cried George.

“But why?” echoed Julia.

“Haven’t I given proof enough,” said Jack, with a faint laugh, “that I’m not what Miss Julia there calls a very logical animal; that when I get a wayward fancy in my head I follow it faithfully as if it was a strong conviction. Well, now, one of these moments has come to me; and thinking, besides, that this pleasant sort of life here is not exactly the best preparation for a rougher kind of existence, I have made up my mind to slip my cable after I ‘ve seen Gusty.”

“Well, then, let us profit by the short time left us,” said Julia, quietly. “Come and help me in the house. I shall want you, too, George.”

“You must do without me, Julia. I have only just discovered a letter in my pocket, with the seal unbroken, that I ought to have answered at least a fortnight ago. It is from Sir Marcus Cluff,” said he, in a whisper, “making me an offer of the vicarage at Hoxton.”

“What a kind fellow!”

“Who’s a kind fellow?” asked Jack.

“A certain gentleman, who made me the flattering proposal to become his wife and nurse, and who now offers to make George his chaplain.”

“It rains good luck here,” said Jack, with a half bitter smile. “Why won’t it drift a little in my direction? By the way, Nelly, what about the letter I asked you to write to Marion?”

“It is written. I only want to fill in the name of the person. You told me to keep a blank for it.”

“I ‘ll go and fetch my pocket-book,” said he, and broke away at once, and hastened towards the house.

“I’m delighted at your good news, Julia,” said Nelly; “though it almost breaks my heart to think how desolate we shall soon be here.”

“Never anticipate evil fortune. We are still together; and let us not mar the present by glancing at a possible future.”

“And poor Jack,” began Nelly; but unable to finish, she turned away her head to hide the emotion she felt.

“He shall – he must stay,” cried Julia.

“You know the price, dearest,” said Nelly, throwing herself into her arms.

“Well, who says I am not ready to pay it? There, that ‘s enough of folly. Let us now think of something useful.”

CHAPTER LIX. A VERY BRIEF DREAM

Julia was seldom happier than when engaged in preparing for a coming guest. There was a blended romance and fuss about it all that she liked. She liked to employ her fancy in devising innumerable little details, she liked the active occupation itself, and she liked best of all that storied web of thought in which she connected the expected one with all that was to greet him. How he would be pleased with this; what he would think of that? Would he leave that chair or that table where she had placed it? Would he like that seat in the window, and the view down the glen, as she hoped he might? Would the new-comer, in fact, fall into the same train of thought and mind as she had who herself planned and executed all around him?

Thus thinking was it that, with the aid of a stout Dalmatian peasant-girl, she busied herself with preparations for Augustus Bramleigh’s arrival. She knew all his caprices about the room he liked to occupy. How he hated much furniture, and loved space and freedom; how he liked a soft and tempered light, and that the view from his window should range over some quiet, secluded bit of landscape, rather than take in what recalled life and movement and the haunts of men.

She was almost proud of the way she saw into people’s natures by the small dropping preferences they evinced for this or that, and had an intense pleasure in meeting the coming fancy. At the present moment, too, she was glad to busy herself in any mode rather than dwell on the thoughts that the first interval of rest would be sure to bring before her. She saw that Jack Bramleigh was displeased with her, and, though not without some misgivings, she was vexed that he alone of all should resent the capricious moods of a temper resolutely determined to take the sunniest path in existence, and make the smaller worries of life but matter for banter.

“He mistakes me altogether,” said she, aloud, but speaking to herself, “if he imagines that I ‘m in love with poverty and all its straits; but I ‘m not going to cry over them for all that. They may change me in many ways. I can’t help that. Want is an ugly old hag, and one cannot sit opposite her without catching a look of her features; but she ‘ll not subdue my courage, nor make me afraid to meet her eye. Here, Gretchen, help me with this great chest of drawers. We must get rid of it out of this, wherever it goes.” It was a long and weary task, and tried their strength to the last limit; and Julia threw herself into a deep-cushioned chair when it was over, and sighed heavily. “Have you a sweetheart, Gretchen?” she asked, just to lead the girl to talk, and relieve the oppression that she felt would steal over her. Yes, Gretchen had a sweetheart, and he was a fisherman, and he had a fourth share in a “bragotza;” and when he had saved enough to buy out two of his comrades he was to marry her; and Gretchen was very fond, and very hopeful, and very proud of her lover, and altogether took a very pleasant view of life, though it was all of it in expectancy. Then Gretchen asked if the signorina had not a sweetheart, and Julia, after a pause, – and it was a pause in which her color came and went, – said, “No!” And Gretchen drew nigh, and stared at her with her great hazel eyes, and read in her now pale face that the “No” she had uttered had its own deep meaning; for Gretchen, though a mere peasant, humble and illiterate, was a woman, and had a woman’s sensibility under all that outward ruggedness.

“Why do you look at me so, Gretchen?” asked Julia.

“Ah, signorina,” sighed she, “I am sorry – I am very sorry! It is a sad thing not to be loved.”

“So it is, Gretty; but every day is not as nice and balmy and fresh as this, and yet we live on, and, taking one with the other, find life pretty enjoyable, after all!” The casuistry of her speech made no convert. How could it? – it had not any weight with herself.

The girl shook her head mournfully, and gazed at her with sad eyes, but not speaking a word. “I thought, signorina,” said she, at last, “that the handsome prince – ”

“Go to your dinner, Gretchen. You are late already,” said Julia, sharply; and the girl withdrew, abashed and downcast. When thus alone, Julia sat still, wearied by her late exertions. She leaned her head on the arm of the chair, and fell fast asleep. The soft summer wind that came tempered through the window-blinds played with her hair and fanned her to heavy slumber – at first, dreamless slumber, the price of actual fatigue.

Jack Bramleigh, who had been wandering about alone, doing his best to think over himself and his future, but not making any remarkable progress in the act, had at length turned into the house, strolling from room to room, half unconsciously, half struck by the vastness and extent of the building. Chance at last led him along the corridor which ended in this chamber, and he entered, gazing carelessly around him, till suddenly he thought he heard the deep-drawn breathing of one in heavy sleep. He drew nigh, and saw it was Julia. The arm on which her head lay hung listlessly down, and her hand was half hid in the masses of her luxuriant hair. Noiselessly, stealthily, Jack crept to her feet, and crouched down upon the floor, seeming to drink in her long breathings with an ecstasy of delight. Oh, what a moment was that! Through how many years of life was it to pass, the one bright thread of gold in the dark tissue of existence. As such he knew it; so he felt it; and to this end he treasured up every trait and every feature of the scene. “It is all that I shall soon have to look back upon,” thought he; and yet to be thus near her seemed a bliss of perfect ecstasy.

More than an hour passed over, and he was still there, not daring to move lest he should awake her. At last he thought her lips seemed to murmur something. He bent down, close – so close that he felt her breath on his face. Yes, she was dreaming – dreaming, too, of long ago; for he heard her mutter the names of places near where they had lived in Ireland. It was of some party of pleasure she was dreaming, – her dropping words indicated so much; and at last she said, “No, no; not Lisconnor. Jack does n’t like Lisconnor.” Oh, how he blessed her for the words; and bending over, he touched the heavy curl of her hair with his lips. Some passing shock startled her, and she awoke with a start and a faint cry. “Where am I?” she cried; “what is this?” and she stared at him with her wide, full glance, while her features expressed terror and bewilderment.

“Don’t be frightened, dearest. You are safe, and at home with those who love you.”

“And how are you here? how came you here?” asked she, still terrified.

“I was strolling listlessly about, and chance led me here. I saw you asleep in that chair, and I lay down at your feet till you should awake.”

“I know nothing of it at all,” muttered she. “I suppose I was dreaming. I fancied I was in Ireland, and we were about to go on some excursion, and I thought Marion was not pleased with me; – how stupid it is to try and disentangle a dream. You should n’t have been here, Master Jack. Except in fairy tales, young princes never take such liberties as this, and even then the princesses are under enchantment.”

“It is I that am under the spell, not you, Julia,” said he, fondly.

“Then you are come to ask pardon for all your crossness, your savagery of this morning?”

“Yes, if you desire it.”

“No, sir; I desire nothing of the kind; it must be spontaneous humility. You must feel you have behaved very ill, and be very, very sorry for it.”

“I have behaved very ill, and am very, very sorry for it,” repeated he, softly, after her.

“And this is said seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“And on honor?”

“On honor!”

“And why is it said – is it because I have asked you to say it?”

“Partly; that is, you have in asking given me courage to say it.”

“Courage to ask pardon! what do you mean by that?”

“No; but courage to make me hope you care to hear it. Oh, Julia, for once listen to me seriously, and let me tell you how I love you; how I have always loved you; how you are to me all that is worth living for.”

“It would be very nice to be told such pretty things, all the more being bound to believe them.”

“And do you doubt?”

“I ‘ll tell you what there is not, nor can be any doubt about, Jack; that we are both very poor, and though I, woman-like, may feel it a very comforting and sustaining thought, through my poverty, that one honest heart beats affectionately for me, yet I ‘m far from sure that it would be the same good influence over your life; in fact, our bargain would be unequal, and I should have all the best of it.”

“Oh, Julia, could you love me – ”

“I think I ‘ve done things fully as hard,” said she, with affected thoughtfulness.

“Do you think me, then, so hopeless of advancement in life that I shall live and die the humble creature you now see me?”

“No, I don’t think that. I think if fate is not very dead against you, you are likely, whatever you turn to, or wherever you go, to make your way; but to do this you must be heart-whole. The selfishness that men call ambition cannot afford to be weighted with thought of another and another’s welfare. Have a little patience with me – hear me out, for I am saying what I have thought over many and many an hour – what I have already told Nelly. There’s an old Persian fable that says, the people who love on through life are like two lovers who walk on opposite banks of a river, and never meet till the river mingles with the ocean, which is eternity, and then they are parted no more. Are you satisfied with this? I thought not. Well, what are your plans for the future?”

“I have scores of them. If I would take service with any of those South American republics, there is not one would not give me rank and station to-morrow. Brazil would take me. If I offered myself to the Sultan’s Government, where I am known, I could have a command at once.”

“I don’t know that I like Turkish ideas on the married state,” said she, gravely.

“Julia, Julia! do not torture me,” cried he, anxiously. “It is my very life is at stake – be serious for once;” he took her hand tenderly as he spoke, and was bending down to kiss it, when a heavy foot was heard approaching, and suddenly L’Estrange burst into the room, with an open newspaper in his hand.

“I have got something here will surprise you, Jack,” he cried. “You will be astonished to learn that you owe your escape from Ischia to no intrepidity of your own; that you had neither act nor part in the matter, but that it was all due to the consummate skill of a great diplomatist, who represented England at Naples. Listen to this – it is ‘our own special correspondent’ who writes: – ‘I have naturally been curious to ascertain the exact history of Rogers’ escape, the journals of this country having invested that event with most melodramatic, I might go further, and say incredible, details. My own knowledge of the precautions adopted against evasion, and the jealous care bestowed by the Neapolitan Government towards political prisoners, rendered me slow to believe that an unaided convict would have the slightest chance of effecting his liberation; and, as far as I can learn, late events have not diminished, in any degree, my faith in this opinion.

“‘If the stories which circulate in diplomatic circles are to be credited, it was H. B. M’s special envoy at this Court who planned the whole achievement. He, seeing the fatal obduracy of the King’s Ministers, and the utter impracticability of all proceedings to instil into them notions of right or honor, determined, while prosecuting the cause with unusual ardor, to remove the basis of the litigation. By what bribery he effected his object, or of whom, I do not profess to know, though very high names are mentioned with unsparing freedom here; but the fact remains, that when the last despatch of the Foreign Secretary was on its way to our envoy, Rogers was careering over the glad waters in one of H. M.‘s steam-launches – thus relieving the controversy of a very material and interesting item in the negotiation. Of course this has no other foundation than mere rumor; but it is a rumor that no one assumes to discredit, nor, indeed, any to deny, except the very discreet officials of our mission here, who naturally protest that it is a fabrication of the French press. The envoy is still here, and actively proceeding against the Government for an indemnity for unjust imprisonment.’ And now, Jack, here is the best of all. Listen to this: ‘So sensible are our ministers at home of the great service rendered by this adroit measure, the relief experienced by the removal of what at any moment might have become the very gravest of all questions, – that of peace or war, – that no reward is deemed too high for its distinguished author, and his Excellency Lord Viscount Culduff’ – Culduff – ”

“Lord Culduff!” cried Jack and Julia, in amazement.

“‘Viscount Culduff has been offered the post of ambassador at Constantinople!’”

Jack snatched the paper from his hands, and stared in mute amazement at the lines.

“And is this the way fortunes are made in the world?” cried he, at last.

“Only in the great walks of life, Jack,” said Julia. “Small people talk and labor, take service in Argentine republics, or fight for Mussulmen; distinguished people fire but one shot, but it always explodes in the enemy’s magazine.”

“I wonder what he would have thought if he had known for whom he was negotiating,” said Jack, dryly. “I half suspect my distinguished brother-in-law would have left me in chains far rather than drive down the Corso with me.”

“I declare – no, I won’t say the spiteful thing that crossed my mind – but I will say, I ‘d like to have seen a meeting between you and your brother Temple.”

“You think he’d have been so ashamed of me,” said Jack, with a laugh.

“Not a bit of it. You might possibly have been ashamed of the situation – shocked with being such an unworthy member of a great house – but he, Temple, would have accepted you like a fever or an ague, – a great calamity sent from above, – but he would not have felt shame, any more than if you had been the scarlatina. Look at poor George,” cried she, with a merry laugh. “He thinks I ‘ve said something very wicked, and he feels he ought to deplore it and possibly rebuke me.”

Jack could not help laughing at the rueful expression of L’Estrange’s face, and his emotion was catching; for the others joined in the laugh, and in this merry mood returned to the garden.