THE ROWLEYS GO OVER THE ALPS.
[Illustration]
By the thirteenth of May the Rowley family had established itself in
Florence, purposing to remain either there or at the baths of Lucca
till the end of June, at which time it was thought that Sir Marmaduke
should begin to make preparations for his journey back to the
Islands. Their future prospects were not altogether settled. It was
not decided whether Lady Rowley should at once return with him,
whether Mrs. Trevelyan should return with him,--nor was it settled
among them what should be the fate of Nora Rowley. Nora Rowley was
quite resolved herself that she would not go back to the Islands, and
had said as much to her mother. Lady Rowley had not repeated this
to Sir Marmaduke, and was herself in doubt as to what might best be
done. Girls are understood by their mothers better than they are by
their fathers. Lady Rowley was beginning to be aware that Nora's
obstinacy was too strong to be overcome by mere words, and that other
steps must be taken if she were to be weaned from her pernicious
passion for Hugh Stanbury. Mr. Glascock was still in Florence. Might
she not be cured by further overtures from Mr. Glascock? The chance
of securing such a son-in-law was so important, so valuable, that no
trouble was too great to be incurred, even though the probability of
success might not be great.
It must not, however, be supposed that Lady Rowley carried off all
the family to Italy, including Sir Marmaduke, simply in chase of
Mr. Glascock. Anxious as she was on the subject, she was too proud,
and also too well-conditioned, to have suggested to herself such a
journey with such an object. Trevelyan had escaped from Willesden
with the child, and they had heard,--again through Stanbury,--that
he had returned to Italy. They had all agreed that it would be well
that they should leave London for awhile, and see something of
the Continent; and when it was told to them that little Louis was
probably in Florence, that alone was reason enough for them to go
thither. They would go to the city till the heat was too great and
the mosquitoes too powerful, and then they would visit the baths
of Lucca for a month. This was their plan of action, and the cause
for their plan; but Lady Rowley found herself able to weave into it
another little plan of her own of which she said nothing to anybody.
She was not running after Mr. Glascock; but if Mr. Glascock should
choose to run after them,--or her, who could say that any harm had
been done?
Nora had answered that proposition of her lover's to walk out of the
house in Manchester Street, and get married at the next church, in a
most discreet manner. She had declared that she would be true and
firm, but that she did not wish to draw upon herself the displeasure
of her father and mother. She did not, she said, look upon a
clandestine marriage as a happy resource. But,--this she added at the
end of a long and very sensible letter,--she intended to abide by her
engagement, and she did not intend to go back to the Mandarins. She
did not say what alternative she would choose in the event of her
being unable to obtain her father's consent before his return. She
did not suggest what was to become of her when Sir Marmaduke's leave
of absence should be expired. But her statement that she would not go
back to the islands was certainly made with more substantial vigour,
though, perhaps, with less of reasoning, than any other of the
propositions made in her letter. Then, in her postscript, she told
him that they were all going to Italy. "Papa and mamma think that we
ought to follow poor Mr. Trevelyan. The lawyer says that nothing can
be done while he is away with the boy. We are therefore all going to
start to Florence. The journey is delightful. I will not say whose
presence will be wanting to make it perfect."
Before they started there came a letter to Nora from Dorothy, which
shall be given entire, because it will tell the reader more of
Dorothy's happiness than would be learned from any other mode of
narrative.
The Close, Thursday.
DEAREST NORA,
I have just had a letter from Hugh, and that makes me feel
that I should like to write to you. Dear Hugh has told me
all about it, and I do so hope that things may come right
and that we may be sisters. He is so good that I do not
wonder that you should love him. He has been the best son
and the best brother in the world, and everybody speaks
well of him,--except my dear aunt, who is prejudiced
because she does not like newspapers. I need not praise
him to you, for I dare say you think quite as well of him
as I do. I cannot tell you all the beautiful things he
says about you, but I dare say he has told them to you
himself.
I seem to know you so well because Priscilla has talked
about you so often. She says that she knew that you and
my brother were fond of each other because you growled at
each other when you were together at the Clock House, and
never had any civil words to say before people. I don't
know whether growling is a sign of love, but Hugh does
growl sometimes when he is most affectionate. He growls at
me, and I understand him, and I like to be growled at. I
wonder whether you like him to growl at you.
And now I must tell you something about myself,--because
if you are to be my sister you ought to know it all. I
also am going to be married to a man whom I love,--oh, so
dearly! His name is Mr. Brooke Burgess, and he is a great
friend of my aunt's. At first she did not like our being
engaged, because of some family reason;--but she has got
over that, and nothing can be kinder and nicer than she
is. We are to be married here, some day in June,--the 11th
I think it will be. How I do wish you could have been here
to be my bridesmaid. It would have been so nice to have
had Hugh's sweetheart with me. He is a friend of Hugh's,
and no doubt you will hear all about him. The worst of it
is that we must live in London, because my husband as will
be,--you see I call him mine already,--is in an office
there. And so poor Aunt Stanbury will be left all alone.
It will be very sad, and she is so wedded to Exeter that I
fear we shall not get her up to London.
I would describe Mr. Burgess to you, only I do not suppose
you would care to hear about him. He is not so tall as
Hugh, but he is a great deal better looking. With you two
the good looks are to be with the wife; but, with us, with
the husband. Perhaps you think Hugh is handsome. We used
to declare that he was the ugliest boy in the country.
I don't suppose it makes very much difference. Brooke is
handsome, but I don't think I should like him the less if
he were ever so ugly.
Do you remember hearing about the Miss Frenches when you
were in Devonshire? There has come up such a terrible
affair about them. A Mr. Gibson, a clergyman, was going to
marry the younger; but has changed his mind and wants to
take the elder. I think he was in love with her first.
Dorothy did not say a word about the little intermediate stage of
attachment to herself.
All this is making a great noise in the city, and some
people think he should be punished severely. It seems to
me that a gentleman ought not to make such a mistake; but
if he does, he ought to own it. I hope they will let him
marry the elder one. Aunt Stanbury says it all comes from
their wearing chignons. I wish you knew Aunt Stanbury,
because she is so good. Perhaps you wear a chignon. I
think Priscilla said that you did. It must not be large,
if you come to see Aunt Stanbury.
Pray write to me,--and believe that I hope to be your most
affectionate sister,
DOROTHY STANBURY.
P.S.--I am so happy, and I do so hope that you will be the
same.
This was received only a day before the departure of the Rowleys for
Italy, and was answered by a short note promising that Nora would
write to her correspondent from Florence.
There could be no doubt that Trevelyan had started with his boy,
fearing the result of the medical or legal interference with his
affairs which was about to be made at Sir Marmaduke's instance. He
had written a few words to his wife, neither commencing nor ending
his note after any usual fashion, telling her that he thought it
expedient to travel, that he had secured the services of a nurse for
the little boy, and that during his absence a certain income would,
as heretofore, be paid to her. He said nothing as to his probable
return, or as to her future life; nor was there anything to indicate
whither he was going. Stanbury, however, had learned from the
faithless and frightened Bozzle that Trevelyan's letters were to be
sent after him to Florence. Mr. Bozzle, in giving this information,
had acknowledged that his employer was "becoming no longer quite
himself under his troubles," and had expressed his opinion that he
ought to be "looked after." Bozzle had made his money; and now,
with a grain of humanity mixed with many grains of faithlessness,
reconciled it to himself to tell his master's secrets to his master's
enemies. What would a counsel be able to say about his conduct
in a court of law? That was the question which Bozzle was always
asking himself as to his own business. That he should be abused
by a barrister to a jury, and exposed as a spy and a fiend, was,
he thought, a matter of course. To be so abused was a part of his
profession. But it was expedient for him in all cases to secure some
loop-hole of apparent duty by which he might in part escape from such
censures. He was untrue to his employer now, because he thought that
his employer ought to be "looked after." He did, no doubt, take a
five-pound note from Hugh Stanbury; but then it was necessary that
he should live. He must be paid for his time. In this way Trevelyan
started for Florence, and within a week afterwards the Rowleys were
upon his track.
Nothing had been said by Sir Marmaduke to Nora as to her lover since
that stormy interview in which both father and daughter had expressed
their opinions very strongly, and very little had been said by Lady
Rowley. Lady Rowley had spoken more than once of Nora's return to
the Mandarins, and had once alluded to it as a certainty. "But I do
not know that I shall go back," Nora had said. "My dear," the mother
had replied, "unless you are married, I suppose your home must be
with your parents." Nora, having made her protest, did not think it
necessary to persevere, and so the matter was dropped. It was known,
however, that they must all come back to London before they started
for their seat of government, and therefore the subject did not at
present assume its difficult aspect. There was a tacit understanding
among them that everything should be done to make the journey
pleasant to the young mother who was in search of her son; and, in
addition to this, Lady Rowley had her own little understanding, which
was very tacit indeed, that in Mr. Glascock might be found an escape
from one of their great family difficulties.
"You had better take this, papa," Mrs. Trevelyan had said, when she
received from the office of Mr. Bideawhile a cheque payable to her
order for the money sent to her by her husband's direction.
"I do not want the man's money," said Sir Marmaduke.
"But you are going to this place for my sake, papa;--and it is right
that he should bear the expense for his own wife. And, papa, you must
remember always that though his mind is distracted on this horrible
business, he is not a bad man. No one is more liberal or more just
about money." Sir Marmaduke's feelings on the matter were very
much the same as those which had troubled Mr. Outhouse, and he,
personally, refused to touch the money; but his daughter paid her own
share of the expenses of the journey.
They travelled at their ease, stopping at Paris, and at Geneva, and
at Milan. Lady Rowley thought that she was taken very fast, because
she was allowed to sleep only two nights at each of these places,
and Sir Rowley himself thought that he had achieved something of a
Hannibalian enterprise in taking five ladies and two maids over the
Simplon and down into the plains of Lombardy, with nobody to protect
him but a single courier. He had been a little nervous about it,
being unaccustomed to European travelling, and had not at first
realised the fact that the journey is to be made with less trouble
than one from the Marble Arch to Mile End. "My dears," he said to his
younger daughters, as they were rattling round the steep downward
twists and turns of the great road, "you must sit quite still on
these descents, or you do not know where you may go. The least thing
would overset us." But Lucy and Sophy soon knew better, and became
so intimate with the mountain, under the friendly guidance of their
courier, that before the plains were reached, they were in and out,
and here and there, and up and down, as though they had been bred
among the valleys of the pass. There would come a ringing laugh from
some rock above their head, and Lady Rowley looking up would see
their dresses fluttering on a pinnacle which appeared to her to be
fit only for a bird; and there would be the courier behind them, with
two parasols, and a shawl, and a cloak, and an eye-glass, and a fine
pair of grizzled whiskers. They made an Alpine club of their own,
refusing to admit their father because he would not climb up a rock,
and Nora thought of the letters about it which she would write to
her lover,--only that she had determined that she would not write to
him at all without telling her mother,--and Mrs. Trevelyan would for
moments almost forget that she had been robbed of her child.
From Milan they went on to Florence, and though they were by that
time quite at home in Italy, and had become critical judges of
Italian inns and Italian railways, they did not find that journey
to be quite so pleasant. There is a romance to us still in the name
of Italy which a near view of many details in the country fails to
realise. Shall we say that a journey through Lombardy is about as
interesting as one through the flats of Cambridgeshire and the fens
of Norfolk? And the station of Bologna is not an interesting spot
in which to spend an hour or two, although it may be conceded that
provisions may be had there much better than any that can be procured
at our own railway stations. From thence they went, still by rail,
over the Apennines, and unfortunately slept during the whole time.
The courier had assured them that if they would only look out they
would see the castles of which they had read in novels; but the day
had been very hot, and Sir Marmaduke had been cross, and Lady Rowley
had been weary, and so not a castle was seen. "Pistoia, me lady,
this," said the courier opening the door;--"to stop half an hour."
"Oh, why was it not Florence?" Another hour and a half! So they
all went to sleep again, and were very tired when they reached the
beautiful city.
During the next day they rested at their inn, and sauntered through
the Duomo, and broke their necks looking up at the inimitable glories
of the campanile. Such a one as Sir Marmaduke had of course not come
to Florence without introductions. The Foreign Office is always very
civil to its next-door neighbour of the colonies,--civil and cordial,
though perhaps a little patronising. A minister is a bigger man than
a governor; and the smallest of the diplomatic fry are greater swells
than even secretaries in quite important dependencies. The attache,
though he be unpaid, dwells in a capital, and flirts with a countess.
The governor's right-hand man is confined to an island, and dances
with a planter's daughter. The distinction is quite understood, but
is not incompatible with much excellent good feeling on the part of
the superior department. Sir Marmaduke had come to Florence fairly
provided with passports to Florentine society, and had been mentioned
in more than one letter as the distinguished Governor of the
Mandarins, who had been called home from his seat of government on a
special mission of great importance. On the second day he went out
to call at the embassy and to leave his cards. "Have you been able
to learn whether he is here?" asked Lady Rowley of her husband in a
whisper, as soon as they were alone.
"Who;--Trevelyan?"
"I did not suppose you could learn about him, because he would be
hiding himself. But is Mr. Glascock here?"
"I forgot to ask," said Sir Marmaduke.
Lady Rowley did not reproach him. It is impossible that any father
should altogether share a mother's anxiety in regard to the marriage
of their daughters. But what a thing it would be! Lady Rowley thought
that she could compound for all misfortunes in other respects, if she
could have a daughter married to the future Lord Peterborough. She
had been told in England that he was faultless,--not very clever, not
very active, not likely to be very famous; but, as a husband, simply
faultless. He was very rich, very good-natured, easily managed,
more likely to be proud of his wife than of himself, addicted to no
jealousies, afflicted by no vices, so respectable in every way that
he was sure to become great as an English nobleman by the very weight
of his virtues. And it had been represented also to Lady Rowley
that this paragon among men had been passionately attached to her
daughter! Perhaps she magnified a little the romance of the story;
but it seemed to her that this greatly endowed lover had rushed away
from his country in despair, because her daughter Nora would not
smile upon him. Now they were, as she hoped, in the same city with
him. But it was indispensable to her success that she should not seem
to be running after him. To Nora, not a word had been said of the
prospect of meeting Mr. Glascock at Florence. Hardly more than a
word had been said to her sister Emily, and that under injunction
of strictest secrecy. It must be made to appear to all the world
that other motives had brought them to Florence,--as, indeed, other
motives had brought them. Not for worlds would Lady Rowley have run
after a man for her daughter; but still, still,--still, seeing that
the man was himself so unutterably in love with her girl, seeing that
he was so fully justified by his position to be in love with any
girl, seeing that such a maximum of happiness would be the result of
such a marriage, she did feel that, even for his sake, she must be
doing a good thing to bring them together! Something, though not much
of all this, she had been obliged to explain to Sir Marmaduke;--and
yet he had not taken the trouble to inquire whether Mr. Glascock was
in Florence!
On the third day after their arrival, the wife of the British
minister came to call upon Lady Rowley, and the wife of the British
minister was good-natured, easy-mannered, and very much given to
conversation. She preferred talking to listening, and in the course
of a quarter of an hour had told Lady Rowley a good deal about
Florence; but she had not mentioned Mr. Glascock's name. It would
have been so pleasant if the requisite information could have been
obtained without the asking of any direct question on the subject!
But Lady Rowley, who from many years' practice of similar, though
perhaps less distinguished, courtesies on her part, knew well the
first symptom of the coming end of her guest's visit, found that the
minister's wife was about to take her departure without an allusion
to Mr. Glascock. And yet the names had been mentioned of so many
English residents in Florence, who neither in wealth, rank, or
virtue, were competent to hold a candle to that phoenix! She was
forced, therefore, to pluck up courage, and to ask the question.
"Have you had a Mr. Glascock here this spring?" said Lady Rowley.
"What;--Lord Peterborough's son? Oh, dear, yes. Such a singular
being!"
Lady Rowley thought that she could perceive that her phoenix had
not made himself agreeable at the embassy. It might perhaps be that
he had buried himself away from society because of his love. "And is
here now?" asked Lady Rowley.
"I cannot say at all. He is sometimes here and sometimes with his
father at Naples. But when here, he lives chiefly with the Americans.
They say he is going to marry an American girl,--their minister's
niece. There are three of them, I think, and he is to take the
eldest." Lady Rowley asked no more questions, and let her august
visitor go, almost without another word.