THE SERENATA.
Next morning also he was preoccupied and anxious, insomuch that even
Nan noticed it, and good-naturedly hoped he had had no bad news. He
started somewhat.
'No, oh no,' he said. 'Only the telegram I got last night makes it
necessary for me to start for home to-morrow.'
'Then, at least,' said Nan cheerfully, 'you will see Lake Como before
you go.'
Her eldest sister smiled in her superior way.
'Nan's head is full of romance,' she said. 'She expects to see the
Como of the print-shops: don't you, Nan? Blue water and golden boats,
and pink hills, and Claude Melnotte's castle lifting its--whatever was
it?--to eternal summer. I am afraid the quotation is not quite
correct.'
And the truth was that, despite this warning, Nan did seem somewhat
disappointed, when, after hours of rattling and splashing along a muddy
road, they came upon a stretch of dirty, chalky-green water that in a
manner mirrored the gray and barren crags above it.
'That isn't Como!' cried Nan. 'It can't be.'
'Oh, but it is,' Miss Beresford said, laughing. 'At least it's the
upper end of it.'
But Nan would not believe it; and when at last they reached Colico, and
fought their way through the crowd of swarthy good-for-nothings who
strove to attach themselves to every scrap of luggage, and when they
had got on board the steamer and secured commanding positions on the
upper deck, then Nan declared that they were about to see the real Lake
of Como. It was observed that the young sailor glanced once or twice
rather anxiously at the sky and the seething clouds.
Well, they sailed away down through this stretch of pallid green water,
that was here and there ruffled with wind, and here and there smooth
enough to reflect the silver-gray sky; and they called at successive
little villages; and they began to be anxious about a certain banking
up of purple clouds in the south-west. They forgot about the eternal
summer, and got out their waterproofs. They were glad to find
themselves drawing near to Bellagio, and its big hotels, and villas,
and terraced gardens. The wind had risen; the driven green water was
here and there hissing white; and just as they were landing, a pink
flash of lightning darted across that dense wall of purple cloud, and
there was a long and reverberating rattle of thunder.
'It seems to me we have just got in in time,' said Frank King in the
hall of the hotel.
The storm increased in fury. The girls could scarcely dress for dinner
through being attracted to the window by the witches' cantrips outside.
The thunder blackness in the south-west had deepened; the wind was
whirling by great masses of vapour; the water was springing high along
the terraces; and the trees in the terraced gardens were blown this way
and that, even though their branches were heavy with rain. Then it was
that Edith Beresford said--
'Nan, you ought to persuade Lieutenant King to stay over another day.
He hasn't seen Como. This isn't Como.'
'I?' said Nan, sharply. 'What have I to do with it? He can go or stay
as he pleases.'
'Besides,' continued Edith, 'in consequence of this _tempo cattivo_----'
'I suppose that means weather that rains cats and dogs,' said Nan,
whose anger was of the briefest duration.
'----the grand _Serenata_ is put off till to-morrow night. Now he
ought to stay and see the illuminations of the boats.'
'The illuminations,' said Nan. 'I should think he had something else
to think of.'
Nevertheless, when, at dinner, Miss Edith was good enough to put these
considerations before Lieutenant King, he seemed very anxious to
assent, and he at once called for a time-table; and eventually made out
that by taking the night train somewhere or other, he could remain at
Bellagio over the next day. And he was rewarded, so far as the weather
went. The morning was quite Como-like--fair and blue and calm; the sun
shining on the far wooded hills, and on the sparkling little villages
at their foot; the green lake still running high, with here and there a
white tip breaking; a blaze of sunlight on the gardens below--on the
green acacia-branches and the masses of scarlet salvia--and on the
white hot terraces where the lizards lay basking.
It was a long, idle, delicious day; and somehow he contrived to be near
Nan most of the time. He was always anxious to know what she thought
about this or about that; he directed her attention to various things;
he sometimes talked to her about his ship--and about what sailors
thought of when they were far from home and friends. They went out on
the lake--these four; the hot sun had stilled the water somewhat;
reclining in the cushioned stern of the boat, in the shelter of the
awning, they could hear the bells on shore faint and distant. Or they
walked in that long allee leading from one end of the gardens--the
double line of short chestnuts offering cool and pleasant shadow; the
water lapping along the stone parapet beside them; and between each two
of the stems a framed picture, as it were, of the lake and the
velvet-soft slopes beyond. It was all very pretty, they said. It was
a trifle common-place, perhaps; there were a good many hotels and
little excursion steamers about; and perhaps here and there a
suggestion of the toy-shop. But it was pretty. Indeed, towards
sunset, it was very nearly becoming something more. Then the colours
in the skies deepened; in the shadows below the villages were lost
altogether; and the mountains, growing more and more sombre under the
rich gold above began to be almost fine. One half forgot the
Cockneyism and familiarity of the place, and for a moment had a glimpse
of the true loneliness and solemnity of the hills.
As the dusk fell they began to bethink themselves of what was before
them.
'It would have been a bad thing for the musicians from La Scala if they
had attempted to go out last evening,' Miss Beresford remarked.
'It will be a bad thing for us,' said Edith, who was the musical one,
'if we attempt to go on board their steamer this evening. It will be
far too loud. You should never be too near. And, especially where
there is water, music sounds so well at some distance.'
'You can hire a small boat, then,' said Nan. 'They are all putting up
their Chinese lanterns.'
'Oh, I wouldn't advise that,' said Frank King, quickly. 'I don't think
it would be safe.'
'A sailor afraid of boats!' said Miss Edith with a laugh.
'Oh, as for that,' said Nan, warmly, 'every one knows that it's those
who are most ignorant of boats who are most reckless in them. It's
very easy to be brave if you're stupidly ignorant. I know papa used to
say it was always the most experienced sportsman who took most care
about unloading his gun on going into a house. Why, if you're walking
along the pier, and see some young fools standing up in a boat and
rocking it until the gunwale touches the water, you may be sure they're
haberdashers down from the borough for a day, who have never been in a
boat before.'
In the dusk they could not see that Frank King's face flushed with
pleasure at this warm defence; but he only said quietly,
'You see there will be ten or twelve steamers churning about in the
dark; and if some careless boatman were to make a mistake--or lose his
head--you might be under the paddles in a second. I think you should
either get on board or stay ashore; and I should say you were as well
off here as anywhere. You will see the procession on the lake very
well; and even if they should halt over there at Cadenabbia for the
music, we could hear it here excellently.'
'It is very good advice, Edith,' said Miss Beresford, seriously. 'I
don't at all like small boats. And there goes the first dinner-bell;
so let's make haste.'
At dinner Frank King did not say much; he seemed to be thinking of his
departure on the morrow. Once, however, when they happened to be
talking about Brighton, he looked across the table to Nan, and said,
'Oh, by the way, what was the name of the woman you told me about--whom
you met on the downs?'
'Singing Sal,' answered Nan, with composure.
'I shall ask about her when I get to Portsmouth,' he said.
'She is seldom in the big towns; she prefers tramping by herself along
the country roads.'
'Is this another of Nan's _protegees_?' asked Miss Beresford. 'She
knows the most extraordinary people. She is like the children when
they are sent down to the beach when the tide is low; they are always
most delighted with the monstrous and hideous things they can pick up.'
'You must have seen Singing Sal,' said Nan quietly. 'And she is
neither monstrous nor hideous. She is very well dressed, and she sings
with a great deal of feeling.'
'Perhaps she will come and have afternoon tea with us?' said Edith,
with a sarcastic air.
'I don't think she would find it interesting enough,' Nan answered,
calmly.
When, after dinner, they went out on to the balcony above the garden,
they found that the wonders of the night had already begun. Far on the
other side of the lake the houses of Cadenabbia were all ablaze with
millions of small gold points, the yellow glow from which glimmered
down on the black water. Then in the garden here, there were rows upon
rows of Chinese lanterns, of all colours, just moving in the almost
imperceptible breeze; while along the shore, the villas had their
frontage-walls decorated with brilliant lines of illuminated cups, each
a crimson, or white, or emerald star. Moreover, at the steps of the
terrace below, there was a great bustle of boats; and each boat had its
pink paper lantern glowing like a huge firefly in the darkness; and
there was a confusion of chaffering and calling with brightly dressed
figures descending by the light of torches, and disappearing into the
unknown. Then these boats began to move away--with their glow-worm
lanterns swaying in the black night. The hotel seemed almost deserted.
There was silence along the shores.
By and by, at a great distance, they beheld a wonderful thing come
slowly into view--far away in the open space of darkness that they knew
to be the lake. It was at first only a glow of crimson; but as it came
nearer, this glow separated into points, each point a ruby-coloured
shaft of fire, and they saw that this must be a steamer illuminated by
red lamps. And then another steamer, and another, came sailing up,
with different colours gleaming; until one, far higher than the
others--a great mass of glittering gold--appeared in the midst of them,
and round this all the fleet of small boats, that were, of course, only
distinguishable by their parti-coloured lanterns, seemed to gather.
'That is the steamer that has the musicians, clearly,' said Frank King.
'Yes; but I don't hear any music,' answered Edith, in a voice that
seemed rather ominous.
They sat and waited. The last of the guests had got into the small
boats and gone away; they were left alone in front of the big hotel.
The moon was rising behind the hills in the south, and already the
surface of the lake was beginning to declare itself--a dull blue-black.
'I cannot hear the least sound; is it possible they can be playing?'
said Edith, disappointedly.
It was a beautiful spectacle, at all events, even if there were no
sound accompanying it. For now the moon had risen clear, and there was
a pale soft light all along the northern hills, and just enough
radiance lying over the bosom of the lake to show the darkness of the
hulls of the distant steamers. And then, as they watched, some order
seemed to grow out of that confusion of coloured lights; the high
golden mass drew away; and then the others followed, until the long
undulating line seemed like some splendid meteor in the night. There
was no sound. Cadenabbia, with all its yellow fire, was as clearly
deserted as this Bellagio here, with all its paper lanterns and
coloured cups. The procession had slowly departed. The _Serenata_ was
taking place somewhere else. The gardens of this hotel were silent but
for the occasional voices of Frank King and his companions.
Well, they laughed away their disappointment; and chatted pleasantly,
and enjoyed the beautiful night, until Miss Beresford thought it was
time for them to go indoors.
'But where's Nan?' she said. 'That girl is never to be found.'
'I think I can find her,' said Frank King, rising hastily. He had been
regarding for some time back that long allee between the chestnuts, and
a dark figure there that was slowly pacing up and down, occasionally
crossing the patches of moonlight. When he had got about half-way
along, he found Nan leaning with her elbows on the parapet, and looking
out on the moonlit lake.
'Oh, Miss Anne,' he said, 'your sister wants you to come indoors.'
'All right,' she said cheerfully, raising herself and preparing to go.
'But I want to say a word to you,' he said hurriedly. 'I have been
trying for an opportunity these two days. I hope you won't think it
strange or premature or impertinent----'
'Oh no,' said Nan, with a sudden fear of she knew not what; 'but let us
go indoors.'
'No, here, now,' he pleaded. 'Only one moment. I know we are young;
perhaps I should not ask you to pledge yourself, but all I ask for is
to be allowed to hope. Surely you understand. Nan, will you be my
wife--some day?'
He would have taken her hand; but she withdrew quickly, and said with a
sort of gasp--
'Oh, I am so sorry. I had no idea. It must be my fault, I am sure;
but I did not know--I was not thinking of such a thing for a moment----'
'But you will give me leave to hope?' he said. 'I mean some day--not
now.'
'Oh no, no!' she said with an earnestness that was almost piteous. 'If
I have made a mistake before, this must be clear now. Oh, don't think
of such a thing. It never could be--never, never. I am very sorry if
I have pained you; but--but you don't know anything about me; and you
will soon forget, for we are both far too young--at least I am--to
think of such things; and--and I am very, very sorry.'
'But do you mean that I am never to think of it again, even as a hope?'
he said, slowly.
'Oh, I do mean that--I do! If there has been a mistake, let it be
clear now. Can I not be your friend?'
She held out her hand. After a second or so of hesitation, he took it.
'I know more of you than you suspect,' he said slowly, and with a touch
of hopelessness in his voice. 'I could see what you were the first
half-hour I had spoken to you. And I know you know your own mind, and
that you are sincere. Well, I had hoped for something else; but even
your friendship will be valuable to me--when I have had a little time
to forget.'
'Oh, thank you, thank you!' said Nan, somewhat incoherently. 'I know
you will be wise. You have your profession to think of; that is of far
more importance. I know you will be wise, and generous too, and
forgive me if the fault has been mine. Now, we will not speak of any
such thing again; let it be as if it had never been. Come.'
He pressed her hand in silence--it was a token of good-bye. These two
did not see each other again for more than three years.