CASALUNGA.
Sir Marmaduke had been told at the Florence post-office that he would
no doubt be able to hear tidings of Trevelyan, and to learn his
address, from the officials in the post-office at Siena. At Florence
he had been introduced to some gentleman who was certainly of
importance,--a superintendent who had clerks under him and who was a
big man. This person had been very courteous to him, and he had gone
to Siena thinking that he would find it easy to obtain Trevelyan's
address,--or to learn that there was no such person there. But at
Siena he and his courier together could obtain no information. They
rambled about the huge cathedral and the picturesque market-place
of that quaint old city for the whole day, and on the next morning
after breakfast they returned to Florence. They had learned nothing.
The young man at the post-office had simply protested that he knew
nothing of the name of Trevelyan. If letters should come addressed to
such a name, he would keep them till they were called for; but, to
the best of his knowledge, he had never seen or heard the name. At
the guard-house of the gendarmerie they could not, or would not, give
him any information, and Sir Marmaduke came back with an impression
that everybody at Siena was ignorant, idiotic, and brutal. Mrs.
Trevelyan was so dispirited as to be ill, and both Sir Marmaduke and
Lady Rowley were disposed to think that the world was all against
them. "You have no conception of the sort of woman that man is going
to marry," said Lady Rowley.
"What man?"
"Mr. Glascock! A horrid American female, as old almost as I am, who
talks through her nose, and preaches sermons about the rights of
women. It is incredible! And Nora might have had him just for lifting
up her hand." But Sir Marmaduke could not interest himself much about
Mr. Glascock. When he had been told that his daughter had refused the
heir to a great estate and a peerage, it had been matter of regret;
but he had looked upon the affair as done, and cared nothing now
though Mr. Glascock should marry a transatlantic Xantippe. He was
angry with Nora because by her obstinacy she was adding to the
general perplexities of the family, but he could not make comparisons
on Mr. Glascock's behalf between her and Miss Spalding,--as his wife
was doing, either mentally or aloud, from hour to hour. "I suppose it
is too late now," said Lady Rowley, shaking her head.
"Of course it is too late. The man must marry whom he pleases. I am
beginning to wonder that anybody should ever want to get married. I
am indeed."
"But what are the girls to do?"
"I don't know what anybody is to do. Here is a man as mad as a March
hare, and yet nobody can touch him. If it was not for the child, I
should advise Emily to put him out of her head altogether."
But though Sir Marmaduke could not bring himself to take any interest
in Mr. Glascock's affairs, and would not ask a single question
respecting the fearful American female whom this unfortunate man
was about to translate to the position of an English peeress, yet
circumstances so fell out that before three days were over he and
Mr. Glascock were thrown together in very intimate relations. Sir
Marmaduke had learned that Mr. Glascock was the only Englishman in
Florence to whom Trevelyan had been known, and that he was the only
person with whom Trevelyan had been seen to speak while passing
through the city. In his despair, therefore, Sir Marmaduke had gone
to Mr. Glascock, and it was soon arranged that the two gentlemen
should renew the search at Siena together, without having with them
either Mrs. Trevelyan or the courier. Mr. Glascock knew the ways
of the people better than did Sir Marmaduke, and could speak the
language. He obtained a passport to the good offices of the police of
Siena, and went prepared to demand rather than to ask for assistance.
They started very early, before breakfast, and on arriving at Siena
at about noon, first employed themselves in recruiting exhausted
nature. By the time that they had both declared that the hotel at
Siena was the very worst in all Italy, and that a breakfast without
eatable butter was not to be considered a breakfast at all, they
had become so intimate that Mr. Glascock spoke of his own intended
marriage. He must have done this with the conviction on his mind that
Nora Rowley would have told her mother of his former intention, and
that Lady Rowley would have told Sir Marmaduke; but he did not feel
it to be incumbent on himself to say anything on that subject. He had
nothing to excuse. He had behaved fairly and honourably. It was not
to be expected that he should remain unmarried for ever for the sake
of a girl who had twice refused him. "Of course there are very many
in England," he said, "who will think me foolish to marry a girl from
another country."
"It is done every day," said Sir Marmaduke.
"No doubt it is. I admit, however, that I ought to be more careful
than some other persons. There is a title and an estate to be
perpetuated, and I cannot, perhaps, be justified in taking quite so
much liberty as some other men may do; but I think I have chosen a
woman born to have a high position, and who will make her own way in
any society in which she may be placed."
"I have no doubt she will," said Sir Marmaduke, who had still
sounding in his ears the alarming description which his wife had
given him of this infatuated man's proposed bride. But he would have
been bound to say as much had Mr. Glascock intended to marry as lowly
as did King Cophetua.
"She is highly educated, gentle-mannered, as sweetly soft as any
English girl I ever met, and very pretty. You have met her, I think."
"I do not remember that I have observed her."
"She is too young for me, perhaps," said Mr. Glascock; "but that is a
fault on the right side." Sir Marmaduke, as he wiped his beard after
his breakfast, remembered what his wife had told him about the lady's
age. But it was nothing to him. "She is four-and-twenty, I think,"
said Mr. Glascock. If Mr. Glascock chose to believe that his intended
wife was four-and-twenty instead of something over forty, that was
nothing to Sir Marmaduke.
"The very best age in the world," said he.
They had sent for an officer of the police, and before they had been
three hours in Siena they had been told that Trevelyan lived about
seven miles from the town, in a small and very remote country house,
which he had hired for twelve months from one of the city hospitals.
He had hired it furnished, and had purchased a horse and small
carriage from a man in the town. To this man they went, and it soon
became evident to them that he of whom they were in search was living
at this house, which was called Casalunga, and was not, as the police
officer told them, on the way to any place. They must leave Siena by
the road for Rome, take a turn to the left about a mile beyond the
city gate, and continue on along the country lane till they saw a
certain round hill to the right. On the top of that round hill was
Casalunga. As the country about Siena all lies in round hills, this
was no adequate description;--but it was suggested that the country
people would know all about it. They got a small open carriage in
the market-place, and were driven out. Their driver knew nothing of
Casalunga, and simply went whither he was told. But by the aid of the
country people they got along over the unmade lanes, and in little
more than an hour were told, at the bottom of the hill, that they
must now walk up to Casalunga. Though the hill was round-topped, and
no more than a hill, still the ascent at last was very steep, and
was paved with stones set edgeway in a manner that could hardly have
been intended to accommodate wheels. When Mr. Glascock asserted that
the signor who lived there had a carriage of his own, the driver
suggested that he must keep it at the bottom of the hill. It was
clearly not his intention to attempt to drive up the ascent, and Sir
Marmaduke and Mr. Glascock were therefore obliged to walk. It was
now in the latter half of May, and there was a blazing Italian sky
over their heads. Mr. Glascock was acclimated to Italian skies, and
did not much mind the work; but Sir Marmaduke, who never did much
in walking, declared that Italy was infinitely hotter than the
Mandarins, and could hardly make his way as far as the house door.
It seemed to both of them to be a most singular abode for such a
man as Trevelyan. At the top of the hill there was a huge entrance
through a wooden gateway, which seemed to have been constructed with
the intention of defying any intruders not provided with warlike
ammunition. The gates were, indeed, open at the period of their
visit, but it must be supposed that they were intended to be closed
at any rate at night. Immediately on the right, as they entered
through the gates, there was a large barn, in which two men were
coopering wine vats. From thence a path led slanting to the house,
of which the door was shut, and all the front windows blocked with
shutters. The house was very long, and only of one story for a
portion of its length. Over that end at which the door was placed
there were upper rooms, and there must have been space enough for a
large family with many domestics. There was nothing round or near
the residence which could be called a garden, so that its look of
desolation was extreme. There were various large barns and outhouses,
as though it had been intended by the builder that corn and hay and
cattle should be kept there; but it seemed now that there was nothing
there except the empty vats at which the two men were coopering. Had
the Englishmen gone farther into the granary, they would have seen
that there were wine-presses stored away in the dark corners.
They stopped and looked at the men, and the men halted for a moment
from their work and looked at them; but the men spoke never a word.
Mr. Glascock then asked after Mr. Trevelyan, and one of the coopers
pointed to the house. Then they crossed over to the door, and Mr.
Glascock finding there neither knocker nor bell, first tapped with
his knuckles, and then struck with his stick. But no one came. There
was not a sound in the house, and no shutter was removed. "I don't
believe that there is a soul here," said Sir Marmaduke.
"We'll not give it up till we've seen it all at any rate," said Mr.
Glascock. And so they went round to the other front.
On this side of the house the tilled ground, either ploughed or dug
with the spade, came up to the very windows. There was hardly even
a particle of grass to be seen. A short way down the hill there
were rows of olive trees, standing in prim order and at regular
distances, from which hung the vines that made the coopering of
the vats necessary. Olives and vines have pretty names, and call
up associations of landscape beauty. But here they were in no way
beautiful. The ground beneath them was turned up, and brown, and
arid, so that there was not a blade of grass to be seen. On some
furrows the maize or Indian corn was sprouting, and there were
patches of growth of other kinds,--each patch closely marked by its
own straight lines; and there were narrow paths, so constructed as to
take as little room as possible. But all that had been done had been
done for economy, and nothing for beauty. The occupiers of Casalunga
had thought more of the produce of their land than of picturesque or
attractive appearance.
The sun was blazing fiercely hot, hotter on this side, Sir Marmaduke
thought, even than on the other; and there was not a wavelet of a
cloud in the sky. A balcony ran the whole length of the house, and
under this Sir Marmaduke took shelter at once, leaning with his back
against the wall. "There is not a soul here at all," said he.
"The men in the barn told us that there was," said Mr. Glascock;
"and, at any rate, we will try the windows." So saying, he walked
along the front of the house, Sir Marmaduke following him slowly,
till they came to a door, the upper half of which was glazed, and
through which they looked into one of the rooms. Two or three of the
other windows in this frontage of the house came down to the ground,
and were made for egress and ingress; but they had all been closed
with shutters, as though the house was deserted. But they now looked
into a room which contained some signs of habitation. There was a
small table with a marble top, on which lay two or three books, and
there were two arm-chairs in the room, with gilded arms and legs,
and a morsel of carpet, and a clock on a shelf over a stove, and--a
rocking-horse. "The boy is here, you may be sure," said Mr. Glascock.
"The rocking-horse makes that certain. But how are we to get at any
one!"
"I never saw such a place for an Englishman to come and live in
before," said Sir Marmaduke. "What on earth can he do here all day!"
As he spoke the door of the room was opened, and there was Trevelyan
standing before them, looking at them through the window. He wore an
old red English dressing-gown, which came down to his feet, and a
small braided Italian cap on his head. His beard had been allowed
to grow, and he had neither collar nor cravat. His trousers were
unbraced, and he shuffled in with a pair of slippers, which would
hardly cling to his feet. He was paler and still thinner than when he
had been visited at Willesden, and his eyes seemed to be larger, and
shone almost with a brighter brilliancy.
Mr. Glascock tried to open the door, but found that it was closed.
"Sir Marmaduke and I have come to visit you," said Mr. Glascock,
aloud. "Is there any means by which we can get into the house?"
Trevelyan stood still and stared at them. "We knocked at the front
door, but nobody came," continued Mr. Glascock. "I suppose this is
the way you usually go in and out."
"He does not mean to let us in," whispered Sir Marmaduke.
"Can you open this door," said Mr. Glascock, "or shall we go round
again?" Trevelyan had stood still contemplating them, but at last
came forward and put back the bolt. "That is all right," said
Mr. Glascock, entering. "I am sure you will be glad to see Sir
Marmaduke."
"I should be glad to see him,--or you, if I could entertain you,"
said Trevelyan. His voice was harsh and hard, and his words were
uttered with a certain amount of intended grandeur. "Any of the
family would be welcome were it not--"
"Were it not what?" asked Mr. Glascock.
"It can be nothing to you, sir, what troubles I have here. This is my
own abode, in which I had flattered myself that I could be free from
intruders. I do not want visitors. I am sorry that you should have
had trouble in coming here, but I do not want visitors. I am very
sorry that I have nothing that I can offer you, Mr. Glascock."
"Emily is in Florence," said Sir Marmaduke.
"Who brought her? Did I tell her to come? Let her go back to her
home. I have come here to be free from her, and I mean to be free. If
she wants my money, let her take it."
"She wants her child," said Mr. Glascock.
"He is my child," said Trevelyan, "and my right to him is better than
hers. Let her try it in a court of law, and she shall see. Why did
she deceive me with that man? Why has she driven me to this? Look
here, Mr. Glascock;--my whole life is spent in this seclusion, and it
is her fault."
"Your wife is innocent of all fault, Trevelyan," said Mr. Glascock.
"Any woman can say as much as that;--and all women do say it.
Yet,--what are they worth?"
"Do you mean, sir, to take away your wife's character?" said Sir
Marmaduke, coming up in wrath. "Remember that she is my daughter, and
that there are things which flesh and blood cannot stand."
"She is my wife, sir, and that is ten times more. Do you think that
you would do more for her than I would do,--drink more of Esill? You
had better go away, Sir Marmaduke. You can do no good by coming here
and talking of your daughter. I would have given the world to save
her;--but she would not be saved."
"You are a slanderer!" said Sir Marmaduke, in his wrath.
Mr. Glascock turned round to the father, and tried to quiet him. It
was so manifest to him that the balance of the poor man's mind was
gone, that it seemed to him to be ridiculous to upbraid the sufferer.
He was such a piteous sight to behold, that it was almost impossible
to feel indignation against him. "You cannot wonder," said Mr.
Glascock, advancing close to the master of the house, "that the
mother should want to see her only child. You do not wish that your
wife should be the most wretched woman in the world."
"Am not I the most wretched of men? Can anything be more wretched
than this? Is her life worse than mine? And whose fault was it? Had
I any friend to whom she objected? Was I untrue to her in a single
thought?"
"If you say that she was untrue, it is a falsehood," said Sir
Marmaduke.
"You allow yourself a liberty of expression, sir, because you are my
wife's father," said Trevelyan, "which you would not dare to take in
other circumstances."
"I say that it is a false calumny,--a lie! and I would say so to any
man on earth who should dare to slander my child's name."
"Your child, sir! She is my wife;--my wife;--my wife!" Trevelyan, as
he spoke, advanced close up to his father-in-law; and at last hissed
out his words, with his lips close to Sir Marmaduke's face. "Your
right in her is gone, sir. She is mine,--mine,--mine! And you see the
way in which she has treated me, Mr. Glascock. Everything I had was
hers; but the words of a grey-haired sinner were sweeter to her than
all my love. I wonder whether you think that it is a pleasant thing
for such a one as I to come out here and live in such a place as
this? I have not a friend,--a companion,--hardly a book. There is
nothing that I can eat or drink. I do not stir out of the house,--and
I am ill;--very ill! Look at me. See what she has brought me to! Mr.
Glascock, on my honour as a man, I never wronged her in a thought or
a word."
Mr. Glascock had come to think that his best chance of doing any good
was to get Trevelyan into conversation with himself, free from the
interruption of Sir Marmaduke. The father of the injured woman could
not bring himself to endure the hard words that were spoken of his
daughter. During this last speech he had broken out once or twice;
but Trevelyan, not heeding him, had clung to Mr. Glascock's arm. "Sir
Marmaduke," said he, "would you not like to see the boy?"
"He shall not see the boy," said Trevelyan. "You may see him. He
shall not. What is he that he should have control over me?"
"This is the most fearful thing I ever heard of," said Sir Marmaduke.
"What are we to do with him?"
Mr. Glascock whispered a few words to Sir Marmaduke, and then
declared that he was ready to be taken to the child. "And he will
remain here?" asked Trevelyan. A pledge was then given by Sir
Marmaduke that he would not force his way farther into the house,
and the two other men left the chamber together. Sir Marmaduke,
as he paced up and down the room alone, perspiring at every pore,
thoroughly uncomfortable and ill at ease, thought of all the hard
positions of which he had ever read, and that his was harder than
them all. Here was a man married to his daughter, in possession of
his daughter's child, manifestly mad,--and yet he could do nothing
to him! He was about to return to the seat of his government, and
he must leave his own child in this madman's power! Of course, his
daughter could not go with him, leaving her child in this madman's
hands. He had been told that even were he to attempt to prove the man
to be mad in Italy, the process would be slow; and, before it could
be well commenced, Trevelyan would be off with the child elsewhere.
There never was an embarrassment, thought Sir Marmaduke, out of which
it was so impossible to find a clear way.
In the meantime, Mr. Glascock and Trevelyan were visiting the child.
It was evident that the father, let him be ever so mad, had discerned
the expediency of allowing some one to see that his son was alive
and in health. Mr. Glascock did not know much of children, and could
only say afterwards that the boy was silent and very melancholy, but
clean, and apparently well. It appeared that he was taken out daily
by his father in the cool hours of the morning, and that his father
hardly left him from the time that he was taken up till he was put to
bed. But Mr. Glascock's desire was to see Trevelyan alone, and this
he did after they had left the boy. "And now, Trevelyan," he said,
"what do you mean to do?"
"To do?"
"In what way do you propose to live? I want you to be reasonable with
me."
"They do not treat me reasonably."
"Are you going to measure your own conduct by that of other people?
In the first place, you should go back to England. What good can you
do here?" Trevelyan shook his head, but remained silent. "You cannot
like this life."
"No, indeed. But whither can I go now that I shall like to live?"
"Why not home?"
"I have no home."
"Why not go back to England? Ask your wife to join you, and return
with her. She would go at a word." The poor wretch again shook
his head. "I hope you think that I speak as your friend," said Mr.
Glascock.
"I believe you do."
"I will say nothing of any imprudence; but you cannot believe that
she has been untrue to you?" Trevelyan would say nothing to this, but
stood silent waiting for Mr. Glascock to continue. "Let her come back
to you--here; and then, as soon as you can arrange it, go to your own
home."
"Shall I tell you something?" said Trevelyan.
"What is it?"
He came up close to Mr. Glascock, and put his hand upon his visitor's
shoulder. "I will tell you what she would do at once. I dare say that
she would come to me. I dare say that she would go with me. I am
sure she would. And directly she got me there, she would--say that I
was--mad! She,--my wife, would do it! He,--that furious, ignorant old
man below, tried to do it before. His wife said that I was mad." He
paused a moment, as though waiting for a reply; but Mr. Glascock had
none to make. It had not been his object, in the advice which he had
given, to entrap the poor fellow by a snare, and to induce him so to
act that he should deliver himself up to keepers; but he was well
aware that wherever Trevelyan might be, it would be desirable that he
should be placed for awhile in the charge of some physician. He could
not bring himself at the spur of the moment to repudiate the idea by
which Trevelyan was actuated. "Perhaps you think that she would be
right?" said Trevelyan.
"I am quite sure that she would do nothing that is not for the best,"
said Mr. Glascock.
"I can see it all. I will not go back to England, Mr. Glascock. I
intend to travel. I shall probably leave this and go to--to--to
Greece, perhaps. It is a healthy place, this, and I like it for that
reason; but I shall not stay here. If my wife likes to travel with
me, she can come. But,--to England I will not go."
"You will let the child go to his mother?"
"Certainly not. If she wants to see the child, he is here. If she
will come,--without her father,--she shall see him. She shall not
take him from hence. Nor shall she return to live with me, without
full acknowledgment of her fault, and promises of an amended life. I
know what I am saying, Mr. Glascock, and have thought of these things
perhaps more than you have done. I am obliged to you for coming to
me; but now, if you please, I would prefer to be alone."
Mr. Glascock, seeing that nothing further could be done, joined Sir
Marmaduke, and the two walked down to their carriage at the bottom of
the hill. Mr. Glascock, as he went, declared his conviction that the
unfortunate man was altogether mad, and that it would be necessary
to obtain some interference on the part of the authorities for the
protection of the child. How this could be done, or whether it
could be done in time to intercept a further flight on the part of
Trevelyan, Mr. Glascock could not say. It was his idea that Mrs.
Trevelyan should herself go out to Casalunga, and try the force of
her own persuasion.
"I believe that he would murder her," said Sir Marmaduke.
"He would not do that. There is a glimmer of sense in all his
madness, which will keep him from any actual violence."