A TROUBLED NIGHT.
"Ah, Love! but a day
And the world is changed!
The sun's away,
And the bird estranged;
The wind has dropped,
And the sky's deranged;
Summer has stopped."
R. BROWNING.
Francesca kept up bravely all through the long hours of that Whitsun
Monday; at dinner she talked a little more than usual to cover
Carlo's silence, but it was hard work, and she gave a sigh of relief
when at length the ordeal was over, and she was free to go away
alone. Carlo stood up to open the door for her, and as she passed
him she looked up into his eyes and smiled; but once within the
friendly shelter of the drawing-room her own filled with tears. She
would have given much to run up to her room and have a good cry; that
was out of the question, however, for she could not plead a headache
when by doing so she should lose Carlo's good-night. The sound of
the dining-room door opening made her beat a hasty retreat from the
lamplight; she stood in the shade, and made as though she were
looking out of the window, while she hurriedly dried her eyes, for
not for the world would she have been caught crying. Mr. Britton,
coming into the room, descried the slim figure in its black lace
dress, and came towards her.
"My sweet Fran," he said, "if you will not think me the laziest old
uncle in the world, I am going to bid you good-night. Here is a
budget of letters which I shall get through better in my own room."
"Must you really see to them now?" she said. "Why, it is not half a
holiday if business follows you out here."
Something in her voice made him look at her more attentively. He saw
that she was in trouble, recollected that Carlo had scarcely spoken
to her through dinner, and very naturally leapt to the conclusion
that there had been a quarrel between the lovers.
"I have a long letter from Kate, which, perhaps, you'll like to see,"
he said. "She and Clare seem getting on grandly at the North Cape.
They know nothing of your betrothal. May I tell them the news when I
answer this?"
"I think I will tell them myself," she said, her color deepening a
little. "I will put in a line to-morrow, if I may."
The tears welled up into her eyes again; she turned hastily and drew
his attention to the distant view of Vesuvius with crimson flame
leaping up, and summer lightning brightening the sky in the
background. But Mr. Britton was too fond of her to be put aside; he
began to feel really anxious about her future. "Dear little niece,"
he said, gently, "you must forgive an old uncle's anxiety, but are
you quite happy in your betrothal? Are you quite sure that you have
chosen the happiest life?"
"I am sure that I have chosen the only man in the world whom I could
love," she said, recovering herself, and looking up into her uncle's
face with such a sweet, bright, love-lit smile that he could only
inwardly protest that no man living was worthy of her.
"Yet something is troubling you to-night?" he said, uneasily.
"Yes," she said, her lips quivering; "there is something troubling
Carlo; he is going to talk it over with father, and--and I am not
quite sure how father will take it."
Mr. Britton looked grave.
"Dear child, of one thing you may at least be sure," he said, gently,
"your father cares for nothing but your happiness."
The words fitted in only too well with her own forebodings.
"Oh, why will people think of nothing but that?" she exclaimed.
"What is happiness to me when Carlo is in the question? Uncle"--she
looked up at him, appealingly--"promise me that whatever happens you
will never think him to blame;--there are things no outsider can
understand. Promise me that you will always be his friend."
"Well, he must be a cold-hearted person who could refuse such a
petition from such lips," he said, stooping to kiss her. "Don't be
unhappy, dear little Fran; there never yet was a betrothal which was
all sunshine. Wait a little, and your clouds will disperse. Nine
o'clock! I must be off to my desk."
"I will send up your coffee, then. Good-night," said Francesca,
feeling a little comforted at having enlisted such a helper as Uncle
George on Carlo's side.
She sat down near the lamp, and unfolded her cousin's letter, trying
hard to feel some interest in the account of the voyage, and the
midnight sun, and the adventures which always seemed to occur to any
one who travelled with Clare. But it would not do; the words
conveyed nothing to her mind; she could only listen for the sound of
approaching steps, for the long delay made her feel certain that
Carlo was at that moment telling her father of his decision.
At length, after what seemed to her a very long time, she heard the
dining-room door sharply opened and closed, then quick steps crossing
the vestibule. She listened breathlessly, and, by a sudden impulse,
started to her feet, but the next instant she sank down again almost
as though some one had struck her, for she had heard the front door
closed, and knew that her father must have forbidden Carlo to see her
again.
After that she felt no inclination to cry, only a sense of cold and
wretchedness--a dull, aching misery. She sat crouched up on the
sofa, still holding Kate's letter in her hand. Presently the clock
struck ten, and the study bell was sharply rung. In a minute Dino
appeared at the drawing-room door.
"Captain Britton is very busy, signorina," said the old butler, "and
does not wish to be disturbed again to-night. He would be much
obliged if the signorina would read prayers."
The good old servant had no idea how much he conveyed to his young
mistress in that commonplace message. The words cut her to the
heart, but with the true womanly instinct to hide her wounds, she
stood up quickly and said in her usual voice, "Very well, Dino: bring
in the books, then."
And steadily she went through the usual form, her voice never once
faltering, nor did she give way till the door of her own room was
safely locked, and she was alone for that night of doubt, and
suspense, and grief.
Meanwhile Captain Britton was not much happier than the two lovers
whose separation he had decreed. He felt as soon as he had dismissed
Dino that he had done a cowardly thing; but the thought of meeting
Francesca that night, or of reading prayers in his present frame of
mind, was more than he could endure.
At heart the Captain was a kind man; he would have liked to please
all with whom he came in contact, if only they would be pleased in
his own way; but to have his plans crossed, to be disappointed in any
matter upon which he had set his heart, was too much for so proud a
temper to bear.
Nor could he at all understand Carlo's knight-errantry. That a
brother under the circumstances should be beside himself with anger,
should afterwards give the traitor a good horsewhipping, or even
challenge him--this he could have understood and approved; but the
quiet surrender of home, country, profession, and personal happiness,
in the hope of preventing the evil, this was altogether beyond him.
The Captain liked well enough to do a good action, but it must be an
action that would be approved of men; nothing would have induced him
to take a line that would expose him to censure; if he did a generous
thing he would take good care that it should win him the pleasant and
cheering approval of his friends and acquaintance.
And yet, in spite of his anger with Carlo's Quixotic scheme, he was
too kind-hearted a man not to regret the harsh and wholly
unjustifiable words which had escaped him in the heat of the moment.
Keen shame made the color mount to his forehead as he remembered that
he had insulted a guest at his own table. The thought of this
troubled him more than anything. It haunted him all through the
night. He regretted deeply the pain he must give to Francesca; he
felt bitterly disappointed that the marriage should now be out of the
question. He was still indignant with Carlo's blind foolishness in
going on the stage; but everything faded into insignificance before
the one great regret,--a regret which would follow the Captain to his
grave,--that for once in his life he had been guilty of a breach of
hospitality.
If sleep refused to visit either Carlo or Francesca that night, it
was equally cruel to Captain Britton. He tossed and turned till the
bed-clothes were in a state of chaotic confusion; he tried the window
open, he tried the window shut, he tried a light, he tried total
darkness, he paced the room, he counted alternate black and white
sheep going through a gate, he ate bread, he smoked a cigar,--in
fact, he tried all the remedies for sleeplessness he had ever heard
of.
At last he gave up all thoughts of rest for that night, and began to
wonder how his neighbor was faring; the young Italian's face haunted
him. Now he saw him boyish, eager, and impulsive, coming nearly five
years ago to tell of his love for Francesca, and receiving his
sentence of probation with an odd mixture of hope, despair, and
courtesy. Again he recalled the day--only three weeks ago, in
reality, though it seemed more like three months--when Sibyl had run
down to find him in the olive-garden, bearing that significant card
with the words, "Avvocato Carlo Poerio Donati," which conveyed to him
so much. He remembered hastening back to the house, and could see
again in imagination the bright look of hope which had flashed like
sudden sunshine over Carlo's face when he had told him to go and find
Francesca in the belvedere. And then, lastly, and most vividly of
all, he recalled that face as he had last seen it. Such anger once
seen is never forgotten; and the Captain knew that so generous and
sweet-tempered a man must have been almost maddened by pain before
his face could have worn that look of vindictive fury, before his
eyes could have blazed with the fierce glow that recalled to him the
eyes of a wounded lion. Had the Captain been a coward, or even a man
with highly strung nerves, he would have trembled before such a look,
for to meet such eyes is to look death in the face. But, with all
his faults, he was a staunch, brave-hearted Englishman, and all that
he had felt was a great surprise when the fierce gleam had suddenly
died away, and Carlo had turned sharply round on his heel and left
him without a word.
He wondered what had happened to him afterwards, and began to feel
troubled as he remembered the desolateness of the Villa Bruno.
Only a fortnight had passed since the gentle Signora Donati had been
laid in her grave; he had forgotten all that when in sudden wrath he
had driven her son away. Bitterly did he now repent the unkindness.
Had he been an imaginative man, he would have conjured up a tragic
ending to that night's work, and have suffered yet more; but,
luckily, he was not of an imaginative turn, so he was only vaguely
and increasingly miserable.
Then he began to think of poor little Francesca, doomed through his
angry command never to see her lover again. No; at least he would
yield on that point, he would go to see Carlo after breakfast, would
apologize to him for his hastiness, and permit him to come once more
to the Casa Bella and take leave of Francesca. This idea gave the
poor Captain a little relief, but he groaned aloud as he thought of
all the grief in store for his child.
At length he heard the welcome sounds of life in the house. The
night was over; Rosetta was banging the door-mat vigorously against
the porch; Dino was tramping up and down the marble passages,
fetching and carrying. Presently there was the refreshing sound of
the rap at his door and the servant's familiar summons, "Half-past
seven, signor, and a fine morning."
The Captain rose more promptly than usual, unlocked his door, and
took in his hot-water can; on the lid there lay an envelope directed
to him in Carlo's handwriting. He tore it open with a sense of
sickening anxiety.
What was it that brought a sudden mist before his eyes? Only a
short, manly letter,--a letter of apology from the man whom he had
wronged.
Carlo had forestalled him, and the letter which had cost the writer
so much cost the reader yet more. There was very little in it, with
its careful English and neat foreign writing; but the words had come
straight from the heart, and they went straight as an arrow to the
heart of the Captain.
The Brittons, though so long resident in Italy, kept English hours
and breakfasted all together at eight o'clock.
The Captain came down that morning with a curiously guilty feeling.
Francesca was in the dining-room before him, apparently absorbed in
coffee-making. He glanced at her anxiously, and saw that she was
pale and worn, and looked as if she had cried till she could cry no
longer. She felt her father's anxious glance and winced beneath it.
Uncle George, with more tact, made as though he noticed nothing, and
adroitly kept the conversation going; while Sibyl was luckily at that
unobservant age which takes no account of faces when once they have
become familiar. It was an uncomfortable meal, and they all hailed
as a relief the appearance of the Captain of the _Pilgrim_, a
weather-beaten Scotchman, who had driven over with a telegram which
had just arrived for Mr. Britton.
Captain Britton had never felt more glad to have a guest to whom he
could show hospitality.
"Come, Captain, you must breakfast with us after your long drive!" he
exclaimed, in his hearty voice. "Sibyl, run and tell Dino to lay
another place."
"Thank you, sir," said the Captain, drawing a chair to the table; "I
breakfasted on the yacht, but I will be glad of a cup of coffee if
Miss Britton has some for a late comer. I thought I'd better come
over with the telegram, sir," he continued, turning to the owner of
the _Pilgrim_, "for I had a feeling it might mean a change of plans."
"Second-sight on your part, Captain," said Mr. Britton, looking up;
"I am sorry to say it does mean a change of plans and an end to my
holiday. I must go home at once."
"Nothing wrong at Merlebank, I hope?" said his brother, while
Francesca and Sibyl listened anxiously.
"Oh, no; it is only a business affair, but I must be home by Friday
at latest. I'm afraid the _Pilgrim_ would hardly manage that,
Captain, eh?"
There was a general laugh.
"Well, that would be expecting a little too much of a sailing yacht,"
said Captain Graham. "I'm sorry, sir, you are called back to
England. We had looked to have a pleasant cruise."
Mr. Britton sighed.
"No peace to the wicked; eh, Francesca? In this world it is always
the way that some people have more work than they wish, and others
not so much. I should like a few words with you, John, in the study."
The brothers went off together, and the old Scotch Captain turned to
Sibyl.
"What would you say to a cruise, Miss Sibyl? I think that would be
just the thing for you. You'd make a fine little sailor."
"Oh, dear Captain Graham, do coax Uncle George to let me!" cried
Sibyl, in an ecstasy. "Oh, Fran, wouldn't it be lovely!"
Francesca smiled faintly, not wishing to damp the little girl's
pleasure, but feeling a little more wretched than before, as she
wondered whether possibly her father might think it best to send her
away from home.
"Sea air would do you all the good in the world, miss," said Captain
Graham, glancing at her pale face; "it's only a pity none of your
cousins are on board, then we should have a merry party. Miss Kate,
she doesn't care for the yacht, but the others, why, they are as good
as sailors! Miss Lucy and Miss Molly, they kept a watch all through
our last cruise; and as to little Miss Flo, why, she'd like to live
on board."
Meanwhile, in the study, the owner of the _Pilgrim_ was trying to do
all in his power for his pretty niece. He had guessed, both from her
face and his brother's depression, that there must have been a
quarrel with young Donati on the previous night. He hoped he might
be able to set things straight again before he left, but he had no
idea how serious was the state of affairs.
"Look here, John," he said, closing the door of the study, "it has
just struck me, why shouldn't you all have a trip in the yacht now
she is here? There will be plenty of room for you, and the girls,
and young Donati, and a couple of other friends besides, if you like.
Now do think of it, for it quite vexes me that the _Pilgrim_ should
be all down here to no purpose."
"You are very good," said Captain Britton, hesitatingly; "for myself
there is nothing I should so much like; indeed, I must get away
somewhere, I feel quite knocked up with this tiresome affair."
"What affair?"
"Why, I meant to have told you all about it to-day. Poor little
Francesca's engagement is broken off!"
"Dear me! how is that? You don't mean to say he is tired of her
already?"
"No, that's the worst of it; the fellow is desperately in love with
her still, but I have had to put a stop to it. I never was so
disappointed in a man in my life."
"It's a grave affair," said Mr. Britton, thoughtfully, "for I fancy
little Fran's heart is quite given away."
"That is the miserable part of it. I wish she had never seen Donati!
I wish I'd never come to this place!" and the poor Captain sighed
heavily.
"But have you not, perhaps, been a trifle hasty?" said his brother,
remembering the promise he had made to Francesca on the previous
night. "Though starting with plenty of insular prejudice against the
man I was very much struck with him yesterday. There is something
noble about his face. Surely he can't be guilty of any great
offence?"
"He is guilty of the greatest offence possible, he is guilty of an
utter want of common sense," said the Captain, angrily. "I thought
we had made half an Englishman of him, but I might have known that
with his Italian blood and his foolish radical ideas we should sooner
or later fall foul of one another."
"You are surely not going to break off the engagement because of
political differences?" said Mr. Britton, getting quite on to the
wrong tack.
"Mere opinions are nothing to me," said the Captain, "but when the
fellow acts--acts upon his insane ideas--comes to me and deliberately
tells me that he has taken a course which will make his marriage with
Francesca out of the question for an indefinite time, what can you
expect me to say?"
"I don't wonder you were very much vexed about it."
"Vexed! I was never in such a heat in my life. Wrong as the fellow
was, I am bound to apologize to him for what I said. I'll not shirk
that, though I do believe the mere sight of him will put me out of
temper again."
"You think there is no hope, then, of setting matters straight?
Surely you would submit to almost anything rather than put Francesca
to so much pain. What if her lover is a little high-flown in his
notions? Anything is better than callousness and indifference."
"I can't explain it all to you, for did I do so I should break
Donati's confidence, but soon you will see for yourself what line he
has taken up, and then you will see that my anger is at least
excusable. To permit the engagement to go on is out of the question
while he still keeps to his resolution; Miss Claremont, I am sure,
would agree with me. He is deliberately choosing a career which is
bound to degrade him--he is taking the high road to hell."
The Captain was working himself up into wrathful indignation again.
Mr. Britton could only imagine that Donati had avowed his connection
with some secret political society such as he believed to exist in
Italy. He saw that it was useless to attempt any further
remonstrance.
"Then, if this is really quite at an end," he said, hesitatingly,
"would it not be doubly desirable that you should all leave the
neighborhood for a time? Take a month's cruise in the _Pilgrim_.
There is no chance of my using her again till August."
"I wish you could have been with us too," said the Captain, with a
sigh. "Must you really go off at once?"
"I must be off this evening, there's no help for it," said Mr.
Britton. "I would give much to be with you, but this business will
bear no delay--I feel like a school-boy cheated of his holiday. But
look, let us decide this matter while Captain Graham is here. When
would you like to start?"
"To-morrow--no. To-morrow Count Carossa dines with us--but on
Thursday--I really think we might start on Thursday. It's very good
of you, George, to propose it. You've no idea what a relief it will
be to me, for we are such near neighbors to Donati that it would be
very unpleasant to be here."
"Well, that's settled, then," said Mr. Britton. "I'll go and tell
Graham to make preparation for you. He will be enchanted to have you
on board."