A month passed in Naples, and Morley strove to drown recollection, to
drown thought, to drown the ringing echo of the tempter's words, to
quell, by any means, the struggle that still went on in his heart--the
longing, eager, ardent desire to fly to Juliet Carr, to tell her, with
all the impetuous madness of intense passion, that he loved her still,
to shew her that she had destroyed his peace for ever, and to leave
her to decide, whether he were to live with her or to die by his own
hand. He knew that it was frenzy--he knew that it was crime. With as
much courage as any ancient warrior ever strove, he fought against the
host of dark temptations that beset him, in the vain hope that time
would mitigate the intensity of his feelings; but time brought no
balm--his heart knew no relief. The gay and gabbling crowd in the
ball-room, the palace, and the theatre, distracted not his attention
for a moment. With difficulty, even for a few minutes, did he fix his
attention upon all the objects of ancient art, which formerly would
have amused his fancy. The political strife of various parties which
at that time convulsed all Europe, scarcely roused his mind from the
bitter memories that were in his heart to give it even a thought; and
Morley's sole delight soon became to sail over the deep blue sea of
the bay, gazing in melancholy listlessness upon the waters, and
longing for a quiet abode beneath the rolling of those sunshiny waves.
It soon, however, grew a weariness and a pain to him, to be forced,
even during a part of the day, to see and hear the merry multitudes of
the siren city. The coarse and glaring vice, the utter moral
degradation of almost all classes, the miserable laziness and
destitution of the lower orders, the frivolous wickedness of the
higher, all became an offence to his eyes; and he determined, at
length, to get rid of the whole and to remove to some distance from
Naples, although there was one employment for a part of his day, which
could not be, without difficulty, obtained anywhere but in the city.
It may seem strange that this his sole occupation was the examination
of almost all the principal London journals. But there was only one
part of those journals into which he looked--only one name that he
sought for. It was the name of Lord Clavering. From time to time, he
found it amongst those of the most diligent attendants upon
parliamentary duties. Morley read no more that day when he had once
seen the name. He perused not the speech to which it was attached, nor
examined the nature of the petition which the earl presented. He could
not hate him more than he did, and he did not wish to hate him less;
but still, to know that he was afar, that he was not in the same land
with Juliet Carr, was something.
He resolved, at length, as I have said, to quit the city, and take up
his abode at such a distance that he could continually send into
Naples for intelligence, without setting his foot within the walls
itself. The generous though just act of Helen Barham having removed
the necessity for economy, Morley could indulge at ease whatever
fancies suited his humour best at the time; and, rowing along the
shores of the bay towards Sorrento, he pitched upon a solitary villa,
not far from that place, towards Castellamare as the house be should
like to hire. It was seated upon the high rocky ground, and was
visible from the sea; but on enquiring at the latter town, he found
that there was no road to it but a mule-path, and that it was
inhabited by the Italian family to whom it belonged. The latter
difficulty, however, was speedily removed; gold was an object to the
Italians, and none to Morley; and, while he had his boat, he needed no
other road but the waves.
In this new abode, then, was he soon fixed, and certainly a lovelier
scene never soothed the disappointed heart. The view over the bay was
beyond description; a deep indentation of the shore brought the
profound waters up to the very foot of the rock under the villa, and
one of those arching caves, of which there are so many on the
Sorrentine shores, admitted the sea still farther, so that a sight of
steps from the house itself, similar to those near the _villa
Cocumella_, led down by a subterranean passage to the verge of the
bay; and Morley's boat could be brought in under the very crag on
which his dwelling stood. A little farther on, however, a winding
path, ornamented by some tall cypresses, led down to the shore, which
was strewed at that spot with ruins of various ancient buildings, and
covered almost to the edge of the sea with all the wild flowers and
rich creeping plants of that climate, while here and there the
gigantic aloe had planted itself, giving a peculiar character to the
picture, produced by no other European plant. High hills lay up
behind; and, along the shore on both sides, appeared all that variety
of rock, and precipice, and smooth descent, and soft sloping bank,
which every one who has rounded that headland must remember. We will
not dwell farther upon a description of the place, but will only add,
that the usual drawback to all Italian scenery was found not far off,
as one approached Sorrento, in numerous stone walls and narrow roads,
forming a sort of labyrinth, which required some degree of knowledge
and experience to escape from, in the attempt to find freer space upon
the mountain tops beyond.
Here Morley dwelt in comparative peace for about a fortnight, with his
establishment restored to its former scale, and moreover increased by
six rowers for his boat, to whom one of the cottages in the vineyard
was assigned as an abode. Although so grave and sad, he had contrived
to make himself loved even by the light-hearted Neapolitans in his
service. There are few people more really sensible of dignified and
graceful manners than the lower classes; and as we have already shown,
there was a peculiar charm in the young Englishman's deportment, which
only derived a greater interest from the gloom that had fallen over
him. He was kind-hearted, and generous, too, and the only efforts that
now seemed to interest him strongly, were those tending to increase
the comfort and happiness of the people about him. He taught them to
obey him promptly, to attend, even in their lightness, to his smallest
sign or word, but he taught them also to respect, admire, and love
him.
Old Adam Gray, too--though, to say sooth, he was not liking the
Italians--was a favourite amongst them, and they were always ready to
shew him his way hither and thither, keeping up with him as he went
along--partly by signs, partly by words--long conversations, of which
neither party understood one third.
It was thus one day, while his master was out sailing in the bay, that
the old man had found his way to Sorrento, accompanied by one of the
Neapolitan servants, named Giacchino, who understood somewhat more of
English than the rest. He had gazed about upon the houses and villas,
had gone down to see the remains of antiquity that protrude in some
places from the cliffs, and had bought a basket of fruit from one of
the old women of the town, when suddenly--while he was yet counting
out the interminable small pieces of coin, which seem invented, in
several of the Italian States, for the torment of the passing
traveller--he dropped a whole handful of them, exclaiming--"Good
heavens, Mrs. Martin!--is that you? What could bring you to Italy?"
The person he addressed was a very pretty young woman, dressed in
mourning, and her reply was simple enough, that she had followed her
husband thither.
"Oh, I understand--I understand!" replied Adam Gray; "though how he
got out of York Castle I do not comprehend."
"No, you do not understand it at all," said Jane. "My husband got out
of York Castle by being pronounced innocent. But if you will come up
to the villa just upon the hill, he will tell you the whole story
himself. He came here out of Germany with dear Miss Helen, and I think
he would like to see you, for we told him how kind you had been."
Without more ado, Adam Gray picked up the fallen money, and followed
the young Englishwoman, leaving his Italian companion Giacchino
talking with a number of men in pointed hats, and somewhat Calabrese
attire, who had come in with the apparent purpose of selling fruit and
small birds. When Giacchino joined them, however, they were engaged in
gossiping away the time with a man in the habit of a courier, whom
Adam Gray had seen more than once before loitering about the doors of
their inn at Rome, where he had filled the post of occasional _valet
de place_.
We need not pause upon the interview between Adam Gray and the party
at the villa to which he was conducted; but he found that Harry Martin
was still in attendance upon Helen Barham, not being able, he said, to
make up his mind to leave her, always fancying that some mischief
would happen, if he were not near to take care of her.
"It's a strange whim of mine," he said, "but I can't get rid of it.
However, I know that Miss Helen sent a note to your master at Naples,
yesterday, and when I can see her with plenty of kind friends about
her I shall be content, and think her safe."
Adam Gray remained for a full hour at the villa, and, before he went,
begged to pay his respects to Helen herself, who sent a message by him
to Morley, telling him where she was, and adding that she had
something of importance to communicate to him, if he could call upon
her the next day.
On returning to the spot where he had left his companion, the old man
found the Neapolitan still laughing and chattering with the rest, and
they proceeded on their way homeward together, both somewhat
thoughtful, though the natural buoyancy of the Italian's spirit would
not suffer him to bear the silence quite so long as the native of a
more taciturn land.
"Those fellows will do some mischief before they are out of Sorrento,"
he said; "and that devil of a courier will lead them into no good."
"Ha!" cried Adam Gray, "do you know those people, then, Giacchino?
Pray who may they be who are so mischievously disposed?"
"Why, that tall, good-looking fellow," replied the man, "was the head
of the banditti that used to rob about Nocera and Salerno, and
sometimes almost up to Portici on the other side. He gave it up of his
own accord when the bands were put down, and is now a very good
gardener. The rest are friends of his," he added, with a shrewd
gesticulation, which conveyed the full sense of what he meant.
"And the courier?" demanded Adam Gray. "Pray who is he?"
"Oh, he has come with some Englishman," replied Giacchino--"a count
something or another, which would break an Italian's teeth to speak."
"There you are mistaken," exclaimed Adam Gray. "We have no counts in
England, Master Giacchino, though there are viscounts enough in all
conscience. But pray what was he doing with the banditti?--going to
sell his master to them?"
"No, no," replied Giacchino; "he said his master would like to see
them, and talk to them. It seems that he is fond of such fishes."
In such conversation they plodded on their way, till they reached the
dwelling of the young Englishman, and the old man, leaving his
companion below, proceeded through all the open doors and corridors of
an Italian house, till he reached the room where Morley usually sat.
He entered without ceremony, but was not a little surprised to find
that his master was not alone.
Morley was standing with his hand leaning on the back of a chair, his
brow knit, and his teeth closed, while Lieberg appeared within three
or four paces, with his arms folded on his chest, his head erect, and
his dark eyes flashing like a thunder-cloud. What had previously taken
place, no one ever heard, but it was clear that angry words had
already passed between them.
"Your language, Sir Morley Ernstein," said Lieberg, "is well nigh
insulting, and must not be repeated."
"I have told you, Count Lieberg," replied Morley, "the plain truth,
for which truth you pressed me. Having to thank you for some kindness,
nothing can be farther from my wish than to insult you; but, at the
same time, you must not urge me too far. Your advice I relish not; and
though I do not, as you insinuate, pretend to anything like perfect
purity of thought, word, or action--God forbid that I should be such a
hypocrite!--and though I may yield to temptation, when it comes upon
me, as weakly as any man, yet I will never calmly and deliberately lay
out a plan for seducing a woman from that faith to which she has sworn
at the altar. When I said that I should consider myself a villain if I
did so, I had a reference to my own feelings and my own principles, in
direct opposition to which I have no right to act. You see the matter
in a different light, and I pretend not to criticise or to censure
your views or your actions. The temptation may come, and I may fall,
as you say; I fear it might be so--I am sure it might be so; but I
will never seek the temptation myself."
"You will repent;" replied Lieberg, still frowning on him--"you will
repent your language towards me this night.--I am better as a friend
than an enemy."
"You drive me, sir, to say harsh things," answered Morley sternly;
"but I fear you less as the latter than the former. One word more,
Count Lieberg, before you go," he added, as Lieberg turned towards the
door. "I have this morning received a letter from a lady, whom I find
you have seen oftener than I believed. I do not understand all that
she means; but Miss Barham places the name of Count Lieberg so close
to the term--'a man who persecutes me,' that, as we part apparently
not soon to meet again, it may be as well to say, I look upon that
lady as a sister, will protect her as such, and will treat any man who
insults or injures her, as I would one who wronged my nearest
relation."
Lieberg's lip curled with a sarcastic smile. "Your knight-errantry,
Sir Morley," he said, "may lead you into scrapes; but you are a very
wise and prudent young man, and doubtless will extricate yourself
delicately from all embarrassments. As you have added a word to me,
however, I must add one to you. It shall be a short one, for the
evening sky is beginning to turn grey, and I must seek a more
hospitable roof. It is this--do not cross my path, or I will blast you
like a withered leaf; and so, good night!"
With his usual calm, firm step, Lieberg descended the stairs, and
quitted the villa. Morley's eyes flashed; but old Adam Gray hastened
to interpose telling his master all that he had seen and heard during
that afternoon.
"This is very strange!" said Morley, musing. "Send the man, Giacchino,
to me--or, stay, ask him yourself, if the courier mentioned was that
of Count Lieberg. He may be meditating some harm to that poor girl,
and yet I must not--dare not go to Sorrento myself. Go, good Adam, and
enquire. It is all very strange!--That Juliet should come to Sorrento,
when she knows that I am so near!--It seems as if it were my fate to
be doomed to do wrong, even when I labour to avoid it.--I will not
go!"
Old Adam Gray came back in a moment, saying that Giacchino was quite
sure that the name of Count Lieberg was the one he had heard; and
Morley seriously alarmed instantly took means to warn Helen of the
vague but not unfounded apprehensions which he entertained. He sent
the peasant who farmed the estate attached to the villa, and two of
his own servants, over to Sorrento, with orders to stay with the young
lady, and give her protection during the night; and after explaining
his motives for this step, in a short note, he added--"I would have
come myself at once, but that you tell me Juliet and her party from
Sicily are about to join you this day at Sorrento. Dear Helen, I must
never see her more, for I dare not trust myself. I am tempted in a way
that you cannot divine; and I must fly from that temptation, lest even
greater misfortunes fall upon her and me. Keep the men I send, with
you till Juliet comes, after that, her servants, added to your own,
will, I trust, ensure your safety."
"Now dispatch the people quickly, good Adam," said Morley, giving him
the note; "but, above all things, bid them keep a horse saddled, and
let me know if anything important occurs at Sorrento. They can be over
here in less than ten minutes. Have all our men prepared for whatever
may occur; and see if there be not some more horses to be procured in
the neighbourhood. If so let them be brought in. We might have to ride
over in haste."