We fully sympathize with Lord Lackington, who preferred the picnic
and the society of Miss Molly O'Reilly to the cares of business and an
interview with Davenport Dunn. The Lake of Como, on a fine day of summer
or early autumn, and with a heart moderately free from the anxieties and
sorrows of life, is a very enjoyable locality, and essentially so to
a man of the world like the noble Viscount, who liked to have the more
romantic features of the scene blended with associations of ease
and pleasure, and be able to turn from the contemplation of Alpine
ruggedness to the sight of some terraced garden, glowing in the
luxuriance of its vegetation. Never, perhaps, was there ever a spot so
calculated to appeal successfully to the feelings of men of his stamp.
There was mountain grandeur and desolation, snow-peak and precipice; but
all in the back distance, not near enough to suggest even the fear
of cold, or the disagreeable idea of a sledge journey. There were
innumerable villas of every style and class,--some spacious and splendid
enough for royal residences; others coquettish little chalets, where
lovers might pass the honeymoon. There were tasteful pavilions over the
very lake; snug spots where solitude might love to ponder, a student
read, or an idler enjoy his cigar, in the most enviable of scenes.
Trellised vine-walks zigzagged up the hills to some picturesque shrine
whose modest little spire rose above the olive-trees, or some rude
steps in the rock led down to a little nook, whole white sands glistened
beneath the crystal waters,--such a bath as no Sybarite, in all his most
glowing fancy, ever imagined. And amid all and through all there was
that air of wealth--that assurance of affluence and abundance--which
comes so home to the hearts of men whose sense of enjoyment can only be
gratified where there is to be no sacrifice to their love of ease.
In the noble Viscount's estimation, the place was perfect It was even
associated with the solitary bit of romance of his whole life. It was
here that he passed the first few weeks after his wedding; and though he
had preserved very little of those feelings which imparted happiness
to that period, though her Ladyship did not recall to his mind the
attractions which once had fascinated him,--new glazed and new lacquered
over and over again as was the vase, “the scent of the roses had clung
to it still,” The distance that lends enchantment to the material has
also its influence on the moral picture. Memory softens and subdues many
a harsh tint, mellows many an incongruity, and blends into a pleasant
harmony many things which in their proximity were the reverse of
agreeable. Not that we would be understood to say that Lord Lackington's
honeymoon was not like yours, an elysium of happiness and bliss;
we would simply imply that, in recalling it, he only remembered the
rose-tints, and never brought up one of the shadows. He had, in his own
fashion, poetized that little episode of his life, when, dressed in
a fancy and becoming costume, he played gondolier to his young bride,
scaled the mountain to fetch her Alp-roses, and read aloud “Childe
Harold,” as he interpolated Harrow recollections of its author. Not one
of these did he now remember; he'd as soon have dreamed of being marker
at a billiard table as of playing the barcarole; and as to mountain
excursions he 'd not have bargained for any success that required the
exertion of a steep staircase.
“There 's a little villa in a bay somewhere hereabouts,” said he, as the
boat glided smoothly along; “I should like much to show it to you.” This
was addressed to Molly O'Reilly, who sat beside him. “Do you happen to
know La Pace?” asked he of one of the boatmen.
“To be sure I do, Eccellenza. Who doesn't? My own father was barcarole
there to a great Milordo, I can't say how many years back. Ah,” added
he, laughing, “what stories he used to have of that same Milordo,
who was always dressing himself up to be as a gondolier or a
chamois-hunter.”
“We have n't asked for your father's memoirs, my good fellow; we only
wanted you to show us where La Pace lies,” said the Viscount, testily.
“There it is, then, Eccellenza,” said the man, as they rounded a little
promontory of rock, and came in full view of a small cove, in the centre
of which stood the villa.
Untenanted and neglected as it was, there was yet about it that glorious
luxuriance of vegetation, that rare growth of vines and olive and
oleander and cactus which seems to more than compensate all the care
and supervision of men. The overloaded orange-trees dipped their weary
branches in the lake, where the golden balls rose and fell as the water
surged about them. The tangled vines sprawled over the ground, staining
the deep grass with their purple blood. Olive berries lay deep around,
and a thousand perfumes loaded the air as the faint breeze stirred it.
“Let me show you a true Italian villa,” said the Viscount, as the boat
glided up to the steps cut in the marble rock. “I once passed a few
weeks here; a caprice seized me to know what kind of life it would be
to loiter amidst olive groves, and have no other company than the cicala
and the green lizard.”
“Faith, my Lord,” said O'Reilly, “if you could live upon figs and
lemons, you 'd have nothing to complain of; but I 'm thinking you found
it lonely.”
“I scarcely remember, but my impression is, I liked it,” said he, with a
slight hesitation. “I used to lie under the great cedar yonder, and read
Petrarch.”
“Capital fun--excellent--live here for two hundred a year, or even
less--plenty of fish in the lake--keep the servants on watermelons,”
said Twining, slapping his legs, as he made this domestic calculation to
himself.
“With people one liked about one,” said Miss O'Reilly, “I don't see why
this should n't be a delicious spot.”
“There's not a hundred yards of background. You could n't give a
horse walking exercise here if your life was on it,” said Spicer,
contemptuously.
“Splendid grapes, wonderful oranges, finest melons I ever saw,--all
going to waste too,” said Twining, laughing, as if such utter neglect
was a very droll thing. “Get this place a bargain,--might have it for a
mere nothing.”
“So you might, O'Reilly,” said the Viscount; “it is one of those
deserted spots that are picked up for a tenth of their value; buy
it, fit it up handsomely, and we'll come and spend the autumn with
you,--won't we, Twining?”
“Upon my life we will, I 'll swear it; be here 1st September to the day,
and stay till--as long as you please. Great fun!”
“Delicious spot to come and repose in from the cares and worries of
life,” said Lord Lackington, as he stretched upon a bench and began
peeling an orange.
“I 'd get the blue devils in a week; I 'd be found hanging some fine
morning--”
“For shame, papa,” broke in Molly. “My Lord says he 'd come on a visit
to us, and you know we 'd only be here in the autumn.”
“Just so--come here for the wine season--get in your olives and look
after your oil--great fun,” chimed in Twining, merrily.
“I declare, I 'd like it of all things, would not you?” said the elder
girl to Spicer, who had now begun to reflect that there was a kind of
straw-yard season for men as well as for hunters,--when the great object
was to live cheap and husband your resources; and as he ruminated over
the lazy quietness of an existence that would cost nothing, when even
his “Bell's Life” should be inserted amongst the family extraordinaires,
he vouchsafed to approve the scheme; and in his mumbling tone, in
imitation of Heaven knows what celebrated sporting character, he
grumbled out, “Make the governor go in for it by all means!”
Twining had entered into the project most eagerly. One of the most
marked traits of his singular mind was not merely to enjoy his own
pre-eminence in wealth over so many others, but to chuckle over all the
possible mistakes which _he_ had escaped and _they_ had fallen into. To
know that there was a speculation whose temptation he had resisted and
which had engulfed all who engaged in it; to see the bank fail whose
directorship he had refused, or the railroad smashed whose preference
shares he had rejected,--this was an intense delight to him; and on such
occasions was it that he slapped his lean legs most enthusiastically,
and exclaimed, “What fun!” with the true zest of enjoyment.
To plant a man of O'Reilly's stamp in such a soil seemed, therefore,
about the best practical joke he had ever heard of; and so he walked
him over the villa, discoursing eloquently on all the advantages of the
project,--the great social position it would confer, the place he would
occupy in the country, the soundness of the investment, the certainty of
securing great matches for the girls. What a view that window opened of
the Splugen Alps! What a delicious spot, this little room, to sip one's
claret of an autumn evening! Think of the dessert growing almost into
the very dining-room, and your trout leaping within a yard of the
breakfast-table! Austrians charmed to have you--make you a count--a
Hof something or other, at once--give you a cross--great fun, eh?--Graf
O'Reilly--sound admirably--do it, by all means!
While Twining's attack was being conducted in this fashion, Lord
Lackington was not less industriously pursuing his plan of campaign
elsewhere. He had sauntered with Molly into the garden and a little
pavilion at the end of it, where the lake was seen in one of its most
picturesque aspects. It was a well-known spot to him; he had passed many
an evening on that low window-seat, half dreamingly forgetting himself
in the peaceful scene, half consciously recalling pleasant nights at
Brookes's and gay dinners at Carlton House. Here was it that he first
grew hipped with matrimony, and so sated with its happiness that he
actually began to long for any little disaster that might dash the
smooth monotony of his life; and yet now, by one of those strange tricks
memory plays us, he fancied that the moments he had once passed here had
never been equalled in all his after-life.
“I'm certain, though you won't confess,” said she, after one of his most
eloquent bursts of remembered enjoyment,--“I 'm certain you were very
much in love those days.”
“An ideal passion, perhaps, a poetized vision of that bright creature
who should, one day or other, sway this poor heart;” and he flattened
the creases of his spotless white waistcoat; “but if you mean that I
knew of any, had ever seen any, until now, this very moment--”
“Stop! remember your promise,” said she, laughing.
“But, _charmante_ Molly, I 'm only mortal,” said he, with an air of such
superb humility that made her at once remember it was a peer who said
it.
“Mortals must keep their words,” said she, pertly. “The condition on
which I consented to accept your companionship was--But I need n't
remind you.”
“No, do not, dear Molly, for I shall be delighted to forget it. You are
aware that no law ever obliged a man to do what was impossible; and that
to exact any pledge from him to such an end is in itself an illegality.
You little suspected, therefore, that it was you, not I, was the
delinquent.”
“'All I know is, that you assured me you 'd not--you 'd not talk
nonsense,” said she, blushing deeply, half angry, half ashamed.
“Oh! never guessed you were here,” broke in Twining, as he peeped
through the window. “Sweet spot--so quiet and secluded--capital fun!”
“There is _such_ a view from this, papa,” said Molly, in some confusion
at Twining's bantering look; “come round and see it.”
“I have just been telling this dear girl of yours, O'Reilly, that you
ought to make this place your own,” said Lord Lackington. “Don't fancy
you 'd be out of the world here. Why, there 's the Villa d'Este,
a European celebrity at once; it will be thronged next year to
suffocation. The 'Galignani,' I see, has already mentioned myself and
Lady Lackington as among the visitors. These things have their effect
The press in our day is an estate.”
“Indeed, I 'm sure of it. There was a cousin of my wife's drew his two
hundred a year out of the 'Tyrawley Express,'--a daily little paper,
that, maybe, your Lordship never seen.”
“When I said an estate, sir, I rather alluded to a recognized condition
of power and influence than to mere wealth. Not, I will add, that I am
one of those who approve of this consummation; nor can I see how men of
my order can ever so regard it.”
“Well,” said O'Reilly, sighing, as though the confession cost something,
“there 's nothing equal to a newspaper. I 'm reading 'Saunders' this
eight-and-forty years, and I own to you I never found one I liked so
much. For you see, my Lord, it's the same with a paper as with your
house,--you ought to know where to lay your hand on what you want. Now,
you might as well put me in Buckingham Palace, and tell me to find my
bedroom, as give me the 'Times' and bid me discover the Viceregal Court.
If they mention it at all, it 's among the accidents and offences.”
“Castle festivities--Patrick's Hall--great fun!” said Twining,
laughing pleasantly, for he cherished some merry recollections of these
hospitalities.
“Have you--But of course you were too young for presentation,” said his
Lordship to Molly.
“We were n't out; but, in any case, I 'm sure we 'd not have been
there,” said Molly.
“The pleasure of that presentation may perhaps be reserved for me, who
knows?” said the Viscount, graciously. “If our people come in, it is the
post they 'd offer me.”
“Lord-Lieutenant!” said Molly, opening her eyes to the fullest.
“Even so, _ma belle_. Shall we rehearse the ceremony of presentation?
Twining, do you perform the Chamberlain. Stand aside, O'Reilly; be
a gentleman at large, or an Ulster King-at-arms. Now for it!” And
so saying, he drew himself proudly up to an attitude of considerable
dignity, while Twining, muttering to himself, “What fun!” announced
aloud, “Miss Molly O'Reilly, your Excellency;” at which, and before she
was aware, his Excellency stepped one step in advance, and sainted her
on either cheek with a cordiality that covered her with blushes.
[Illustration: 124]
“That 's not it, at all, I 'm certain,” said she, half angrily.
“On my life, it's the exact ceremony, and no more,” said the Viscount.
Then resuming the performance, he added, “Take care, Twining, that she
is put on your list for the balls. O'Reilly, your niece is charming.”
“My niece--sure she 's--”
“You forget, my worthy friend, that we are enacting Viceroy, and cannot
charge our memory with the ties of kindred.”
Spicer now came up to say that a thunderstorm was threatening, and that
the wisest course would probably be to land the luncheon and remain
where they were till the hurricane should pass over. The proposition was
at once approved of, and the party were soon busily occupying themselves
in the cares for the entertainment; all agreeing that they felt no
regret at being separated from the other boat, which had proceeded up
the lake; in fact, as Mr. O'Reilly said, “they were snugger as they
were, without the Roosians,”--a sentiment in various ways acknowledged
by the rest.
Strange freemasonry is there in conviviality. The little preparations
for this picnic dinner disseminated amidst them all the fellowship of
old acquaintance, and, as they assisted and aided each other, a degree
of kindliness grew up that bound them together like a family. Each vied
with each in displaying his power of usefulness and agreeability; even
the noble Viscount, who actually did nothing what-ever, so simulated
occupation and activity that he was regarded by all as the very life and
soul of the party. And yet we are unjust in saying he did nothing; for
he it was who, by the happy charm of his manner, the ready tact of a
consummate man of the world, imparted to the meeting its great success.
Unused to the agreeable qualities of such men, O'Reilly felt all the
astonishment that great conversational gifts inspire, and sat amazed and
delighted at the stores of pleasant stories, witty remarks, and acute
observations poured out before him.
He knew nothing of the skill by which these abilities were guided, nor
how, like cunning shopkeepers dressing their wares to most advantage,
such men exhibit their qualities with all the artifice of display. He
never suspected the subtle flattery by which he was led to fancy himself
the intimate of men whose names were freely talked of before him, till
at length the atmosphere of the great world was to him like the air he
had breathed from childhood.
“How the Prince would have relished O'Reilly!” said the Viscount to
Twining, in a whisper easily overheard. “That racy humor, that strong
native common-sense, that vigorous disregard of petty obstacles wherever
he is bent on following out a path,--his royal Highness would have
appreciated all these.”
“Unquestionably--been charmed with them--thought him most
agreeable--great fun.”
“You remind me of O'Kelly,--Colonel O'Kelly,--O'Reilly; strange enough,
too, each of you should be of that same old Celtic blood. But, perhaps,
it is just that very element that gives you the peculiar social
fascination I was alluding to. You are not old enough, Twining, to
remember that small house with the bay-windows opening on the Birdcage
Walk; it was like a country parsonage dropped down in the midst of
London, with honeysuckles over the porch, and peacocks on the lawn
in front of it. O'Kelly and Payne lived there together,--the two
pleasantest bachelors that ever joined in partnership. The Prince dined
with them by agreement every Friday. The charm of the thing was no
state, no parade, whatever. It was just as if O'Reilly here were to take
this villa, and say, 'Now, Lackington, I am rich enough to enjoy myself;
I don't want the worry and fatigue of hunting out the pleasant people
of the world; but you know them all, you understand them,--their ways,
their wants, and their requirements; just tell me, frankly, could n't we
manage to make this their rallying-spot throughout Europe? Settled down
here in the midst of the most lovely scenery in the world, with a
good cook and a good cellar, might not this place become a perfect
Paradise?'”
“If I only knew that your Lordship, just yourself alone, and, of course,
the present company,” added O'Reilly, with a bow round the table, “would
vouchsafe me the honor of a visit, I'd be proud to be the owner of this
place to-morrow. Indeed, I don't see why we would n't be as well here
as traipsing over the world in dust and heat. If, then, the girls see no
objection--”
“I should like it of all things, papa,” broke in Miss O'Reilly.
“I am charmed with the very thought of it,” cried Molly.
“Capital thought--romantic notion--save any amount of money, and no
taxes,” muttered Twining.
“There's no approach by land whatever,” said Spicer, who foresaw that
all his horse capabilities would receive no development here.
“All the better,” broke in Twining; “no interlopers--no fellows
cantering down to luncheon, or driving over to dine--must come by boat,
and be seen an hour beforehand.”
“If I know anything of my friend here,” said the Viscount, “his taste
will rather lie in the fashion of a warm welcome than a polite denial
to a visitor. You must talk to Lanfranchi about the place to-morrow,
O'Reilly. He 's a shrewd fellow, and knows how to go about these
things.”
“Faith, my Lord, I see everything in sunshine so long as I sit in such
company. It's the very genial kind of thing I like. A few friends--if I
'm not taking too great a liberty--”
“No, by no means, O'Reilly. The esteem I feel for you, and that Twining
feels for you “--here his Lordship looked over at Spicer and slightly
nodded, as though to say, “There is another there who requires no formal
mention in the deed “--“are not passing sentiments, and we sincerely
desire they may be accepted as true friendship.”
“To be sure--unquestionably--great regard--unbounded admiration--what
fun!” muttered Twining, half aloud.
The evening wore along in pleasant projects for the future. Spicer had
undertaken to provide workmen and artificers of various kinds to repair
and decorate the villa and its grounds. He knew of such a gardener, too;
and he thought, by a little bribery and a trip down to Naples, he
might seduce the Prince of Syracuse's cook,--a Sicilian, worth all the
Frenchmen in the world for an ultramontane “cuisine.” In fact, ere the
bright moonlight on the lake reminded them of their journey homeward,
they had arranged a plan of existence for the O'Reillys almost Elysian
in its enjoyments.
Few things develop more imaginative powers than the description of a
mode of life wherein “money is no object,” and wishing and having are
convertible terms. Let a number of people--the least gifted though they
be with the graces of fancy--so picture forth such an existence, and
see how, by the mere multiplication of various tastes, they will end by
creating a most voluptuous and splendid tableau. O'Reilly's counsellors
were rather adepts in their way, and certainly they did not forget
one single ingredient of pleasure; till, when the boat glided into the
little bay of the D'Este, such a story of a life was sketched out as
nothing out of fairy-land could rival.
“I 'll have it, my Lord; the place is as good as mine this minute,” said
O'Reilly, as he stepped on shore; and as he spoke his heart thrilled
with the concentrated delights of a whole life of happiness.