Moroni did not call out Trent but took some other measures which were
vigorous and a good deal more sensible. But it was a proof of curious
and dogged perseverance in the man, that, although baffled, Trent did
not give up all hope. He had played a desperate game, in which he told
himself--and truly enough, as far as it went--that he had been led on
from risk to risk, and so far as his wrong-doing had been a mistake, he
bitterly regretted it. Bitterly, for his love for Bice was an absorbing
passion, and he would not yet suffer himself to own that she was lost
for ever.
His hope lay in Mrs Masters. First and last he had lent her a good
deal of money, looking to it as another means of gaining a power over
the girl. For he measured Bice's strength and weakness accurately,
knowing that she would resist obstinately and, after all, give way in a
moment if she could spare a tear to those she loved. Impulse, as yet,
was almost paramount with her; what Trent was ignorant of, or forgot to
take into account, was the effect produced upon her by the steady
influence of such a life as that of Phillis, in which a higher law
ruled.
Trent lost no time. He knew that Mrs Masters had been teased by Kitty
into taking her to the Capitol, and he at once followed them there.
Everything looked grey and dreary, and unlike Rome; the pepper trees and
mimosas by the Capitol steps hung dank, the poor wolf had slunk sullenly
into his den, even the majestic and unmoved serenity of Marcus Aurelius,
as the rain beat down upon him, dangerously approached the ridiculous.
An old woman held out her hand, "_Un soldo, per pieta, signore, un
soldo_." Trent flung her a dozen soldi, having a feeling that he could
not afford to lose the blessing of a beggar.
Mrs Masters and Kitty had gone to the side where the bronze wolf is
preserved, and he was long in finding them. Mrs Masters--always
provided with a camp-stool--was in her usual condition of repose,
letting her daughter look about as she liked, so that nothing could have
been more desirable for Trent. Any other woman might have noticed the
unusual dull pallor of his face, as he leaned against a pedestal by her
side, but observation was growing more and more an unknown exercise to
her, and she made no more than her ordinary remarks about heat or cold
and the like, when he joined her. He did not trouble himself to answer
them, but said abruptly:--
"Have you any idea how much money I have let you have?"
"Not much," she said placidly. It had seemed to her part of the
arrangement to which belonged Bice's engagement, and she expected Trent
to look upon it in the same light.
"Well, you had better understand. It is over two hundred pounds."
For a moment she was a little startled, "I don't really think it can be
so much," she said. "But, to be sure, I have a very poor head for
business."
"And do you know," he went on without regarding, "that Bice has been
listening to that young--fool, Ibbetson, and has been talked into
throwing me over?"
He spoke in a low savage voice, which had in it so much concentrated
bitterness that it frightened her. She looked up at him with a vaguely
terrified expression.
"What do you mean?" she said. "She is going to marry you, isn't she?"
"No," he said in the same tone. "Can't you understand plain English? I
tell you he has been getting hold of her with his cock-and-bull stories
about Clive, and this is the end of it."
He had no dislike to Mrs Masters, and yet at that moment it gave him a
fierce satisfaction to see that she was trembling. It seemed like an
assurance that Bice was still in his power. And, indeed, one time of
her life had taught her so thoroughly the language of threats that she
had no difficulty in realising that he meant something by asking her
about the money. She said imploringly:--
"But it is not my fault, Oliver. You must know that I have always taken
your part with Bice, and that I cannot help it if she has one of these
headstrong fits upon her."
"Perhaps not. But I don't mean to put up with them quietly. Choose for
yourself. Can you repay me the money?"
"Oh, of course I cannot, you know I cannot! And you promised me that
when you were married you would not ask for repayment."
"Well? And I abide by that promise. But do you think me fool enough to
lose everything? Keep your side of the compact and I keep mine."
She looked at him helplessly. Her mind was not quick at resources, and
Trent's will always seemed to oppose a blank high wall when she wished
to escape. Kitty came up with some remark. When she had left them
again, her mother said slowly:--
"I can't force Bice."
"You can work upon her. If you succeed, I give you my word, the money
shall be absolutely yours." He was leaning forward and speaking
earnestly, and a dull hope came into her face.
"Perhaps I can. And you will be kind?"
"I will be very kind--to success."
Then he walked away after Kitty, who was his warm admirer and supporter,
and took pains to make himself more than usually pleasant to her, before
he confided what had past. Painted in his own colours it looked very
different from the actual fact, and Kitty, flattered and pleased,
scarcely needed persuasion. When he went back to Mrs Masters, he felt
convinced that he had a chance of at least getting himself heard by
Bice, who was only to be reached by those she loved, and once heard, his
indomitable perseverance assured him that he could explain everything.
Somebody else was plotting and planning that day. Moroni, all the
chivalry of whose nature had risen up in answer to what Ibbetson had
told him, though that was not much, was dashing about here and there,
looking pale and determined, and unlike the days of the guitar. Jack
was very good-natured, and sincerely anxious that he should succeed, his
liking and esteem for the young fellow having grown rapidly that day.
But even Jack grew a little weary of giving advice, when, for the third
time, Moroni came rushing up his stairs.
"My dear friend," cried the young fellow, wringing his hands, "what
should I do without you? I ask you twenty thousand pardons, I am an
impertinent, an intruder, but--will you only answer me one question, and
I go?"
Ibbetson, who had had to answer some dozens already, nodded
good-humouredly.
"Do you really think I should delay pressing my suit? If she were
altogether Italian I should know what to do, but she is partly English;
she loves England, it is not impossible that I might shock her. You,
too, are English. Advise me."
He was trembling with eagerness, and thrusting his hands into his hair.
Ibbetson leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head,
and said:--
"I wouldn't be too abrupt. She will want a little breathing time after
this affair. See Mrs Masters if you like, and for the rest go quietly
to work."
Moroni listened as eagerly as if he had not already had the advice again
and again, nodded once or twice and jumped up.
"Enough! I shall go at once and see if her mother is returned.
_Addio_, best of friends." But at the door he came back: "You would
really wait?"
"My dear fellow, I'm no prophet. I only say what I should do if I were
in your shoes."
"I shall do it. Ah, a thought strikes me! That is your dog, is it not?
And she likes him, I have heard her speak of him--will you lend him to
me? It would be so good to give her pleasure."
Jack gave a laughing leave, but Cartouche refused all enticements. When
the eager young fellow, with his hope and enthusiasm, had at last rushed
out, Cartouche walked across the room and rested his black head on his
master's knee; looking in his face with the odd questioning that touched
them all. "You and I are left pretty much to each other, old fellow,
eh?" said Jack, pulling the shaggy locks; "and we miss her, too, don't
we? Well, we'll hold together, and stick to each other, and, perhaps,
the sooner we get away from here the better it may be for us both."
Then he began to imagine that future which turned a dreary side towards
him at that time; Phillis in the vicarage at Whitcote, himself obliged
every now and then to be at Elmsleigh to meet her, to meet the man whose
wife she was. More than once in their last interview Phillis had hurt
him as she had never done before; her shrinking reluctance to grant him
that one request of his, had given him his sharpest pang, and his
thoughts had gone back to it again and again. He was impatient with
himself for his own folly, and stood up and shook himself, as if by that
means he could get rid of it. Miss Preston and Winter had both gone,
the porter's wife kept his rooms, and his food was sent from a
_trattoria_. Hardly ever had he been oppressed with such a sense of
loneliness in the world, and somehow he was sure that Cartouche shared
the oppression. The sooner he could get back to London the better, and
he made a rapid calculation, and decided that in five days he might
leave Rome. If, before then, he came across Phillis, well and good; but
he told himself dejectedly that he must not try to see her alone, where
another repulse would only pain them both. Friends they might be in
time, but it is not a relationship which succeeds very easily to that of
lovers, in spite of the fine words talked about it, or even the finer
thoughts thought.
Moroni, meanwhile, went like a whirlwind to the Palazzo Capponi, and
stormed Mrs Masters in the very yellow room where he had already been
that day. Other people might have found it difficult to introduce the
subject, but his simplicity and his eagerness saw no difficulties. He
kissed her hand, and held it in his own while he said:--
"Dear signora, I have the greatest favour to ask. By what I hope may be
a fortunate incident, I was in this room to-day, and saw the signorina
act like a heroine. The Signor Trent is of your family, I believe, so I
say nothing, I abstain to speak of him, if I did however, I do not; as I
say, I abstain. But I gathered that--he being of your family--you had
done him the great honour to permit him to be your banker. I am right,
am I not?"
Poor Mrs Masters, who was unaccustomed to have her monetary
transactions looked upon in this light, stared helplessly at him. She
was feeling the pressure of Trent's heavy hand, and dreading her
interview with Bice, which might, she knew, turn out a failure. And if
so, where would she be? But Moroni was afraid he had offended her.
"You think I have no right," he said, with a gesture of despair. "Ah,
forgive me, but remember, are we not of your oldest friends? Who will
you permit to be of some little use, when inconveniences occur, but us?
If I cannot speak of that man, it is impossible for me to express myself
as I would, but I entreat you to leave it in my hands, to let me settle
everything with him. Oh, I will be patient because he is your
countryman. And the money shall come from you, you may trust me."
Was this the favour he was asking? She could scarcely believe that she
heard rightly, and that her perplexities could meet with such a gentle
end. No scruples were likely to weigh with her. She sank into an
arm-chair with a sigh of relief.
"Would you really do me this kindness, Giovanni? Oliver Trent has
behaved cruelly, for I did not know I had to repay the two hundred; but
he is angry with Bice and vents it upon me. It is very hard on me. But
have you the money?"
"Listen, dear signora. I came here hoping to gain your consent to
address myself to the signorina Beatrice. My father loves me, he is
rich, he consents. I find her tied to this man. Imagine, if you can,
my despair. But now I shall hope again, with your permission, I shall
have every hope."
"Oh, you have my permission," said Mrs Masters, slowly. "But if she
will not--"
"Do you think she will not? Do not say so, I implore you!"
"She is incomprehensible," said her mother, with a sigh. "And then,
perhaps, I shall have all this scene with the money over again--"
Moroni stared at her, grew pale and drew himself up with a grand air
they had never seen in him.
"Signora, I am one of the Moroni," he said proudly, "and I have asked
two favours at your hands."
She looked at him in wonder. Was this Bice's boy-admirer, at whom they
had sometimes laughed? It touched and shamed her.
"You are very good, my Giovanni; very good," she said. "I hope poor
Bice will have the blessing of so good a husband, if she really has made
up her mind not to marry Oliver. Poor Bice! Perhaps she has thought
too much of me and of others--and as for this you wish to do, I cannot
thank you enough--"
"Say no more," said the young man, radiant, and seizing her hand again
in his fervour. "You have granted me permission, now I shall go to work
very carefully. But you will never let her know of the favour you have
given me, she would think it too presumptuous. Within an hour the money
shall be here. How kind you have been to me, dear signora!"
The secret was one which Mrs Masters determined to keep.
When she went into Bice's room, she found her pacing up and down,
flushed and feverish.
"So you have seen that man," the girl began vehemently; "Mamma, for
pity's sake say nothing about him. Kitty has gone away crying because I
will not listen. I shall go mad, I believe--I cannot even tell you what
he has done. Ask Mr Ibbetson. Only I will not marry him, whatever you
owe him; are human beings to be sold like that in these days? Let us go
back, I will work, I will--"
"My dear, you are so impetuous! do not wish you to marry him."
Bice paused in her rapid movements.
"And the money?" She asked the question breathlessly.
"The money will be paid to-day."
The change in her face seemed to light the very room. She flung her
arms round her mother's neck, tears were running down her face. "It is
for joy," she sobbed. "Do you mean that we are free, that he can do
nothing more?" But after this she made none of the inquiries which her
mother dreaded; sitting quietly, and looking out of the window, and
every now and then drawing a long breath, as if a burden were lifted
from her.
That evening a great bouquet came for the Signorina Capponi.
The next morning, as Moroni was again going to choose the best flowers
he could find for his lady, Trent passed by him on his way to the
station. He looked like what he was; a man who had aimed for an object
and had lost it. Of Moroni he took no notice; it was Ibbetson to whom
he attributed his defeat. But Moroni in the joy of his heart, bought a
magnificent peacock made entirely of flowers, at which the Roman world
had been staring for an hour or two, and gave orders for its being sent
to Palazzo Capponi. And Jack, when he was called upon for advice that
day, thought Giovanni's views as to proceeding slowly were a good deal
modified. At any rate, he saw Bice.