THE LOVE
It was not till Christmas that Ida had the opportunity of making her
observations. By that time 'Mite,' as he was supposed to have named
himself, had found the use of his feet, and was acquiring that of his
tongue. In fact, he was a very fine forward child, who might easily have
been supposed to be eighteen months old instead of fifteen, as Ida did
not fail to remark.
He was a handsome little creature, round and fair, with splendid sturdy
legs and mottled arms, hair that stood up in a pale golden crest, round
blue eyes and a bright colour, without much likeness as yet to either
parent, though Lord Northmoor declared that there was an exact
resemblance to his own brother, Charles, Herbert's father, as he first
remembered him. Ida longed to purse up her lips but did not dare, and
was provoked to see her mother taken completely captive by his charms,
and petting him to the utmost extent.
Indeed, Lady Northmoor, who was very much afraid of spoiling him, was
often distressed when such scenes as this took place. 'Mite! Mite, dear,
no!' when his fat little hands had grasped an ivory paper-cutter, and its
blade was on the way to the button mouth. 'No!' as he paused and looked
at her. 'Here's Mite's ball! poor little dear, do let him have it'--and
Mite, reading sympathy in his aunt's face, laughed in a fascinating
triumphant manner, and took a bite with his small teeth.
'Mite! mother said no!' and it was gently taken from his hand, but before
the fingers had embraced the substituted ball, a depreciating look and
word of remonstrance gave a sense of ill-usage and there was a roar.
'Oh, poor little dear! Here--auntie's goody goody--'
'No, no, please, Emma, he has had quite as many as he ought! No, no,
Mite--' and he was borne off sobbing in her arms, while Ida observed,
'There! is that the way people treat their own children?'
'Some people never get rid of the governess,' observed Mrs. Morton, quite
unconscious that but for her interference there would have been no
contest and no tears.
But she herself had no doubts, and was mollified by Mary's plea on her
return. 'He is quite good now, but you see, there is so much danger of
our spoiling him, we feel that we cannot begin too soon to make him
obedient.'
'I could not bear to keep a poor child under in that way.'
'I believe it saves them a great deal if obedience is an instinct,' said
Mary.
It had not been Mrs. Morton's method, and she was perfectly satisfied
with the result, so she only made some inarticulate sound; but she
thought Frank quite as unnatural, when he kept Michael on his knee at
breakfast, but with only an empty spoon to play with! All the tossing
and playing, the radiant smiles between the two did not in her eyes atone
for these small beginnings of discipline, even though her
brother-in-law's first proceeding, whenever he came home, was to look for
his son, and if the child were not in the drawing-room, to hurry up to
the nursery and bring him down, laughing and shouting.
The Tyrolean nurse had been sacrificed to those notions of training which
the Westhaven party regarded as so harsh. Her home sickness and pining
for her mountains had indeed fully justified the 'rampant consciences,'
as to the humanity as well as the expedience of sending her home before
her indulgence of the Kleiner Freiherr had had time to counteract his
parents' ideas, and her place had been supplied by the nurse whom Amice
was outgrowing, so that Ida was disappointed of her intentions of
examining her, and laid up the circumstances as suspicious, though, on
the other hand, her mother was gratified at exercising a bit of patronage
by recommending a nursery girl from Westhaven. The next winter, however,
was not marked by a visit to Northmoor. Ida had been having her full
share of the summer and early autumnal gaieties of Westhaven, and among
the yachts who were given to putting in there was a certain _Morna_,
belonging to Sir Thomas Brady, who had become a baronet by force of
success in speculation. His son, who chiefly used it, showed evident
admiration of Miss Morton's bright cheeks and eyes, and so often resorted
to Westhaven, and dropped in at what she had named Northmoor cottage,
that there was fair reason for supposing that this might result in more
than an ordinary flirtation.
However, at the regatta, when she had looked for distinguished attention
on his part, she felt herself absolutely neglected, and the very next day
the _Morna_ sailed away, without a farewell.
Ida at first could hardly believe it. When she did, the conviction came
upon her that his son's attachment had been reported to Sir Thomas, and
that the young man had been summoned away against his will. It would
have been different, no doubt, had Herbert still been heir-presumptive.
'That horrid little Mite!' said she.
Whether her heart or her ambition had been most affected might be
doubtful. At any rate, the disappointment added to the oppression of a
heavy cold on the chest, which she had caught at the regatta, and which
became severe enough to call for the doctor.
Thus the mother and daughter did not go to Northmoor. At a ball given on
board a steam yacht just before Christmas Ida caught a violent cold on
the chest, the word congestion was uttered, and an opinion was pronounced
that as she had always weak lungs, a spring abroad would be advisable.
Mrs. Morton wrote a letter with traces of tears upon it, appealing to her
brother-in-law to assist her as the only hope of saving her dearest
child, and the quarries had done so well during the last year that he was
able to respond with a largesse sufficient for her needs, though not for
her expectations.
Mrs. Morton would have liked to have taken Constance as interpreter, and
general aid and assistant; but Constance was hard at work, aspiring to a
scholarship, at a ladies' college, and it was plain that her sister was
not so desirous of her company as to make her mother overrule her wishes
as a duty.
In fact, Ida had found a fellow-traveller who would suit her much better
than Constance. Living for the last year in lodgings near at hand was a
Miss Gattoni, daughter of an Italian courier and French lady's maid. As
half boarder at a third-rate English school, she had acquired education
enough to be first a nursery-governess, and later a companion; and in her
last situation, when she had gone abroad several times with a rheumatic
old lady, she had recommended herself enough to receive a legacy which
rendered her tolerably independent. She was very good-natured, and had
graduated in the art of making herself acceptable, and, as she really
wished to go abroad again, she easily induced Mrs. Morton and Ida to
think it a great boon that she should join forces with them, and as she
was an experienced traveller with a convenient smattering of various
tongues, she really smoothed their way considerably and lived much more
at her ease than she could have done upon her own resources, always
frequenting English hotels and boarding-houses.
Mrs. Morton and Ida were of that order of tourists who do not so much
care for sights as for being on a level with those who have seen them;
and besides, Ida was scarcely well or in spirits enough for much exertion
till after her first month at Nice, which restored her altogether to her
usual self, and made her impatient of staying in one place.
It is not, however, worth while to record the wanderings of the trio,
until in the next summer they reached Venice, where Ida declared her
intention of penetrating into the Dolomites. There was an outcry. What
could she wish for in that wild and savage country, where there was no
comfortable hotel, no society, no roads--nothing in short to make life
tolerable, whereas an hotel full of Americans of extreme politeness to
ladies, and expeditions in gondolas, when one could talk and have plenty
of attention, were only too delightful?
That peaks should be more attractive than flirtations was inexplicable,
but at last in secret confabulation Ida disclosed her motive, and in
another private consultation Mrs. Morton begged Miss Gattoni to agree to
it, as the only means of satisfying the young lady, or putting her mind
at rest about a fancy her mother could not believe in; though even as she
said, 'it would be so very shocking, it is perfectly ridiculous to think
my brother Lord Northmoor would be capable,' the shrewd confidante
detected a lingering wish that it might be so!
Maps and routes were consulted, and it was decided that whereas to go
from Venice through Cadore would involve much mule-riding and rough
roads, the best way would be to resort to the railway to Verona, and
thence to Botzen as the nearest point whence Ratzes could be reached.