"Do you remember once upon a time complaining to me of your lady-love
that she was rich? and setting up her wealth as an obstacle to your
happy wooing?--and how I pooh-poohed the notion? Well, now, it would
appear, that obstacle is by way of being removed. You will have
learned in your copy-book days that Fortune is a mighty uncertain
goddess. And I am writing by Susanna's desire to let you know that
circumstances have quite suddenly arisen which make it seem likely that
she may be in some danger, if not actually on the point, of losing
nearly everything that she possesses. I don't altogether clearly
understand the matter, but it springs from some complication in her
family, and a question whether a rather distant relative has n't a
better claim than her own upon the properties she has been enjoying.
She wishes me to tell you this, because, as she says, 'It may make some
difference in his plans.' I am well aware, of course, as I have
assured her, that it will make none--unless, indeed, it may intensify
your impatience for an early wedding-day. But she insists upon my
writing; and when she insists, I notice that no one ever for very long
resists. What is that mysterious virtue, which some people have in
abundance, (but most of us so abundantly lack), by which one is
compelled, if they say _go_, to go, if they say _come_, to come? There
is a question for you to meditate, as you walk by the shores of the
Adriatic, under 'the golden leaves of the olives.' I wonder whether
you will recollect from what poet that is quoted--'the golden leaves of
the olives.' Well, they _are_ golden in certain lights."
I dare say Anthony was still digesting his letter from Miss Sandus,
when it was followed by the somewhat startling visit of Commendatore
Fregi; and perhaps he was still under the impression of that, when, in
the afternoon, he was summoned from a game of tennis, to receive the
communication which I transcribe below, from the Contessa di Sampaolo.
It was brought to him by a Capuchin friar, a soft-spoken, aged man,
with a long milk-white beard, who said he would wait for an answer.
The Pontes, their tennis thus interrupted, strolled off towards the
stables, leading Adrian with them,--an Adrian consumed, I fancy, by
curiosity to know what business a Capuchin friar might have to transact
with his friend. "Of course it is something to do with the plots and
plans of my lady," he reflected; "but exactly _what_? If people take
you into their confidence, they ought to take you into the entirety of
it, and keep you _au courant_ as the theme develops."
Anthony paused for an instant to admire his correspondent's strong,
clear-flowing, determined hand; and then, in that stiff-jointed, formal
Tuscan of the schools, which no human being was ever heard to speak,
but educated Italians will persist in writing, he read:--
"Illustrissimo Signore e caro Cugino"--Nay, better translate:--
"Most Illustrious Sir and dear Cousin: From my earliest childhood I
have always felt that the Revolution of 1850 was accompanied by great
injustices, and particularly that, without reference to the political
changes, there should have been no transfer of the hereditaments of our
family from the legal heir, your Excellency's father, then a minor, to
his uncle, my grandfather. At the age of twelve I made a vow, before
the shrine of our Sainted Progenitor, that if ever the power to do so
should be mine, I would set this injustice right.
"By the testament of my father, however, I was left under the control
of a guardian until I was twenty-two, which age I attained in April
last. Since April I have been constantly in the intention of restoring
to the head of my family the properties that are rightly his. But many
impeding circumstances, besides the dissuasions of friends whose age
and wisdom I was concerned to regard, have detained me until now, when,
learning that your Excellency is sojourning in the island, I feel that
I must no longer postpone an act of due reparation.
"As I am but the life-tenant of these estates, and as your Excellency,
being my nearest male kinsman, is legally my heir-apparent, (though
morally always the head of our house), I can, I am informed, make the
estates over to you by entering a Religious Order, and taking vows of
celibacy for life. The small fortune which I have inherited from my
mother will provide me with the dowry necessary to this step.
"Most Illustrious Sir and dear Cousin, it would give me great pleasure
to make the acquaintance of your Excellency, and to do homage to the
Chief of the House of San Guido, before my retirement from the world.
The good Father Angelo, who bears this letter, who has my full
confidence and approves of my purpose, will bring me your Excellency's
answer, to say if and when you will honour me with your presence at
Isola Nobile.
"I beg leave to subscribe myself. Most Illustrious Sir and dear
Cousin, with sentiments of distinguished respect and affection, of your
Lordship's Excellency the good cousin,
"S. del Valdeschi della Spina,
Contessa di Sampaolo."
"Al Illmo. Signore, S. E. il Conte di Sampaolo,
Alla Villa del Ponte, Vallanza."
Anthony, his cousin's letter held at arm's length, turned to the
white-bearded Capuchin, where he stood in his brown habit, patiently
waiting, with his clasped hands covered by his sleeves.
"My dear Father," he said, speaking quickly, his face white, his eyes
troubled, "the Countess tells me that you have her full confidence and
approve her purpose. But do you _know_ what purpose she has intimated
here?"
"Yes," said Father Angelo, calmly, bowing his head.
"But then," Anthony hurried on, his excitement unconcealed, "it is
impossible you should approve it--it is impossible any one should
approve it. She must be stopped. The thing she proposes to do is out
of all reason. I cannot allow it. Her friends must not allow it. Her
friends must prevent it."
"The thing she proposes to do is an act of simple justice," said the
Father, in his soft voice.
Anthony waved his arms, intolerantly.
"Simple justice--or simple madness," he said, "it is a thing that must
not even be discussed. She is twenty-two years old--she is a
child--she is irresponsible--she does n't, she can't, know what she is
doing. She proposes to impoverish herself, to condemn herself to a
convent for life, and, so far as one can see, without the slightest
vocation. Her friends must restrain her."
"She is not a person easily restrained, when she has made up her mind,"
said the Father, quietly.
"At all events," said Anthony, "she will be restrained in spite of
herself, if the fact is impressed upon her that the sacrifice she
contemplates making on my behalf is one that I will not accept--that no
man could accept. She can't make her properties over to me if I refuse
to accept them."
"No, I suppose she cannot," said Father Angelo. His hand came forth
from his sleeve, to stroke his beard, thoughtfully. "But the
properties are in all right and justice yours. Why should you not
accept them? You are the legitimate Conte di Sampaolo. You are
entitled to your own."
"My dear Father!" Anthony cried out, almost writhing. "It is a matter,
I tell you, that I cannot even discuss. Accept them! And allow an
inexperienced young girl, who can't possibly understand the
consequences of her action, on a quixotic impulse, to beggar herself
for me, to give up everything, to retire from the world and die by slow
inches in a convent! The thing is too monstrous. A man could never
hold up his head again."
"It would be well," said the Father, slowly, "if you were to tell her
this in person. You had better see her, and tell her it in person."
"When can I see her?" Anthony asked, impetuous.
"When you will. She much desires to see you," the Father answered.
"The sooner, the better," said Anthony. "The sooner she definitely and
permanently dismisses this folly from her mind, the better for every
one concerned."
"Possibly you could go with me now?" the Father suggested. "Her
launch, which brought me here, attends at the end of the garden."
"Certainly I will go with you now," said Anthony. "Wait while I put on
a coat."
He ran back to the tennis-court, caught up his coat, and donned it.
Then, all heated and in flannels as he was, he accompanied Father
Angelo to the launch.