YACHTING.
"Let us be like the bird for a moment perched
On a frail branch while he sings,
Though he feels it bend, yet he sings his song,
For he knows he has his wings."--VICTOR HUGO.
"You look pale, Nita; I am afraid the fright of last night has done
you harm," said Carlo, coming into the Merlinos' private sitting-room
the next morning. "It is just as well that the damage done to the
theatre will prevent our keeping this engagement. They say the place
is to be closed for a fortnight, and after the horrors that went on
in the crush last night it is only decent."
"The wonder is that more were not killed," said Nita, with a shudder.
"Oh, I am so glad not to have to sing again to-night; I should always
be hearing again that horrible cry."
"Do not dwell on it, think of something else, it has made you look
quite ill," said Carlo, debating whether he should talk to her of his
own happiness, but coming to the conclusion that she seemed too sad,
and that it would be better not to touch on the subject.
"It is not the fright that has made me ill," she said at length. "I
must tell you, Carlino, all about it. Comerio has been here."
"Here this morning!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," she shivered from head to foot, "and I made him own that Mlle.
de Caisne knew nothing of that advertisement. He got her to write
the letter easily enough, for you know she was vexed with you, and he
made her believe that it was Miss Flora Britton whom you were in love
with, and then he posted the letter for her, and put in the cutting
from the _Times_. Just think of his boasting to me of the cleverness
of the trick!"
Carlo, with a muttered ejaculation, paced hurriedly to and fro,
trying to keep his indignation within bounds.
"He told me how he had got it printed," she continued, "and expected
me to praise him for it."
"And you?" asked Carlo, with dawning hope in his tone.
"I told him that I would never speak to him again," said Nita, trying
in vain to repress a sob. "But, Carlino, I am afraid of him, so
terribly afraid. He looked as if he could have killed me, and just
went away without another word. Oh, if only I had never seen him!
If only I had believed, like you, that nothing is impossible, and had
resisted from the first! But he was always so strong, and I so weak
and friendless."
"But you have resisted now," said Carlo, trying to comfort her. "And
as to fearing what he may do, I would try not to trouble about it,
for, depend upon it, he values his own safety too much to do anything
desperate; besides, if evil is strong, good is more strong."
"It doesn't seem to be in this world, at any rate," said Nita.
"Do you think not? Perhaps it doesn't always conquer here at first,
but that matters little if in the end it wins."
"You will not leave me?" she pleaded. "If you leave the Company my
last chance is gone. Ah, do you remember how I hoped at Birmingham
that you would go, and that Comerio would take your place? If he had
spent those two years in America with us I should have been in his
power now."
She shuddered, for something had shown her that morning the true
nature of the man whom she had loved.
"I will never leave you," he said, quietly.
Through those three years of lonely work he had struggled on, bearing
Nita's selfish indifference, her fits of perverse ill-nature, and not
daring to look on to the future. Now the change had come upon him so
suddenly that he was almost overpowered by it. He had reaped the
reward which can only come to those who live by the day; having
toiled faithfully through the darkness, he emerged suddenly into a
flood of glorious sunshine.
"An English gentleman to see you, signor, in the _salotto_" announced
a waiter.
Carlo's heart beat quickly as he went downstairs, yet he was less
embarrassed than Captain Britton, who met him with an overpowering
shake of the hand, and then relapsed into silence.
"Francesca is none the worse for the fright, I hope?" asked Carlo,
anxiously.
"Indeed, I think she is all the better for it," said the Captain,
smiling a little.
There was another silence.
"The fact is, Donati," resumed Captain Britton, dragging his chair
forward with a business-like air, and planting both elbows on the
table; "there is no use in beating about the bush; I have come here
to ask you a plain question, and I hope you'll give me a plain
answer. Do you still care for my child or not? Just answer me yes
or no."
The bluff speech of the old sailor nearly took away the Italian's
breath, but if Captain Britton really expected him to answer in a
monosyllable to such a question he was disappointed.
His face glowed, his eyes shone, yet, spite of the passionate
eagerness of his tone, there was a dignity in his manner which
appealed to the Englishman.
"I love her, sir, with my whole heart!" he said. "I love her, and
must always love her. We belong to each other, and though we may
have to go through life apart, yet she is mine and I am hers, and
nothing can come between us."
"So it seems," said the Captain, rather ruefully. "Well, I frankly
tell you that I would rather see my daughter married to a plain
working-man than to an opera-singer; but I have talked the matter
over with my brother and Miss Claremont, and since your love has
stood the test of a three-years' absence, and since Francesca will
not lend an ear to any other proposals, I am bound to consider what
is most for her happiness, though I can't candidly tell you that it
is such a match as I should have chosen for her."
"Indeed," exclaimed Carlo, with a lover's genuine humility; "I know I
can never deserve her, but----"
"Nonsense," interrupted the Captain; "I meant nothing personal of
that sort! You know well enough, Carlo, that I am very fond of you,
that I can never forget that you saved her life----" He began to
feel choked, and broke off abruptly.
"As to that," said Carlo, smiling, "it was nothing at all. We only
sat still when others were running away, and I really think we forgot
fire and danger altogether at first."
"Let us speak out plainly once for all," said Captain Britton,
clearing his throat, "and then have done with it altogether. I
dislike your profession, but I understand that you have a great
future before you in the musical world, and I suppose nature meant
you for an opera-singer, and that there is no use in running one's
head any longer against a stone wall. After all, a man need not be
affected by his work, and perhaps dramatic talent was meant to be
used. I don't deny that there's something in that argument. And the
great thing is that the stage doesn't seem to have spoilt you, and
that I know you'll make my child a good husband."
Between his rapture of happiness, his anxiety not to irritate the
Englishman by allowing his feelings to appear too plainly, and his
dazzling visions of the future, Carlo found his powers taxed to the
utmost. But with an effort he forced himself to enter into a sober
discussion of the case, recalled to Captain Britton's memory the fact
that Uncle Guido's inheritance had gladdened the hearts of the Little
Sisters of the Poor, and then told him plainly just how matters stood
with regard to Anita.
The Captain was touched by his simple yet very graphic way of telling
a story. He began faintly to perceive the rare beauty of his
character.
"You are going to Naples now, at once, did I understand?" he asked,
when at length Carlo paused.
"We thought of going there now, since the theatre will be closed
after this panic, and our engagement at the San Carlo will soon be
beginning. My brother-in-law is going to take a fortnight at the
baths at Lucca, for he has not been well lately. I shall go home to
Naples with Nita and her little boy."
"Then come with us in the _Pilgrim_" said the Captain. "My brother
begged that you would do so, and Sibyl will be enchanted to have the
little boy as a playmate."
After Nita had been consulted, and the matter had been a little more
discussed, the invitation was accepted, and by the evening a general
dispersion had taken place. Merlino had gone off to his course of
baths; Sardoni and Domenica had started joyfully on what they called
their second wedding tour to the Italian lakes; Carlo, Nita, and
Gigi, were welcomed on board the _Pilgrim_; and, in advance of all,
Comerio, with hatred in his heart, was making the best of his way to
Corsica.
Although, as Carlo had observed when he first set foot on the yacht
years ago, the _Pilgrim_ was not at all a place for talking secrets,
yet the lovers were somehow well content, and enjoyed to the full
those happy days of reunion. The rest of the party had a kind way of
playing whist in the saloon when it grew dark; and as to the man at
the wheel they were quite untroubled by his presence, nor disturbed
themselves at all about the watch, who discreetly kept to the
forecastle end, and no doubt found plenty to say among themselves as
to the betrothal, which was now an acknowledged fact.
"It is almost too good to seem true," said Carlo one evening, as they
sat together under the square-sail which was spread to catch the
light summer wind. On one side they could see the dark Italian
coast, on the other the beautiful outline of the mountains in Elba,
while the moon made an ever-shifting track of light on the sea as
they glided gently on, and the red light from the port side cast a
ruddy glow on the white sail towering above them. "How little I
thought," he added, "of having such a home-coming."
"Yes," said Francesca; "and that it should have been in the dear old
_Pilgrim_! How strange that is! I used to be so miserable here
three years ago, and now it does seem, as you say, almost to good too
be true."
And the same happy faculty for living in the present, which had stood
Carlo in good stead through his years of trouble, helped now to make
his happiness perfect. No lurking fear of Comerio spoilt those
cloudless days, no anxieties as to Nita's future, no troubles as to
money matters. Marriage seemed still a far-away prospect, but they
were betrothed, and there could never again be between them that
wearing separation, that maddening dependence on outsiders for the
least news of each other.
"I had heard nothing of you for two months," said Francesca, as
again, to make their present brighter by contrast, they talked over
the troubles of the past; "but that was better than having false
news. You have had the hardest part, darling, and yet you'll never
know how bitter it was to me in one way."
"What way?" he asked, tenderly.
"I couldn't tell you at Merlebank, but it was knowing that you were
so poor, and having money myself, and not being able to help you.
Ah! you'll never know how hard it was to be able to give to any one
in the world except to the one you love best. There is a little
matter-of-fact bit in _Aurora Leigh_ which I used to say for comfort."
"What was that? Say it to me now."
"'Let us be content in words,
To do the thing we can, and not presume
To fret because it's little."
"I did fret, though, for, after all, we are most of us like _Alice in
Wonderland_,--very fond of giving ourselves good advice, but seldom
taking it!"
They laughed a little, and now it was the trouble that seemed like a
dream, and the happiness that had become true, and real, and
indisputable. And together they paced the quiet deck, while below
Nita's sweet, clear voice sang the familiar air of "_Oh, dolce
Napoli_," which Francesca loved because of its happy associations.
"See Naples and die!" said Carlo, smiling. "I often thought, over in
America, that I would gladly have done so; but now I think not,
_Carina_, much as I love it. Let us hope people in real life don't
die of joy."