A STARTLING PROPOSAL.
Obed and his family thus remained in Naples, and Zillah at last had
an occupation. The new duties which she had undertaken gave her just
enough of employment to fill the day and occupy her thoughts. It was
a double blessing. In the first place it gave her a feeling of
independence; and again, and especially, it occupied her thoughts,
and thus prevented her mind from preying upon itself. Then she was
able to gain alleviation for the troubles that had so long oppressed
her. She felt most profoundly the change from the feeling of poverty
and dependence to one of independence, when she was actually "getting
her own living." She knew that her independence was owing to the
delicate generosity of Obed Chute, and that under any other
circumstances she would probably have had no refuge from starvation;
but her gratitude to her friends did not lesson at all her own
self-complacency. There was a childish delight in Zillah over her new
position, which was due, perhaps, to the fact that she had always
looked upon herself as hopelessly and incurably dull; but now the
discovery that she could actually fill the position of music-teacher
brought her a strange triumph, which brightened many a dark hour.
Zillah already had understood and appreciated the delicate feeling
and high-toned generosity of Obed Chute and his sister. Nothing could
increase the deep admiration which she felt for these simple,
upright, honest souls, whose pure affection for her had proved such a
blessing. If there had been nothing else, her very gratitude to them
would have been a stimulus such as the ordinary governess never has.
Under such a stimulus the last vestige of Zillah's old willfulness
died out. She was now a woman, tried in the crucible of sorrow, and
in that fiery trial the dross had been removed, and only the pure
gold remained. The wayward, impetuous girl had reached her last and
fullest development, and she now stood forth in adversity and
affliction, right noble in her character--an earnest woman, devoted,
tender, enthusiastic, generous.
The fondness and admiration of her friends increased every day. The
little children, whose musical education she had now begun, had
already learned to love her; and when she was transformed from a
friend to a teacher they loved her none the less. Zillah's capacity
for teaching was so remarkable that it surprised herself, and she
began to think that she had not been understood in the old days. But
then, in the old days, she was a petted and spoiled child, and would
never try to work until the last year of her life with the Earl,
after he had extorted from her a promise to do differently.
Obed Chute saw her success in her new position with undisguised
satisfaction. But now that she had become a governess he was not at
all inclined to relax his exertions in her behalf. She was of too
much importance, he said, to waste her life and injure her health in
constant drudgery, and so he determined that she should not suffer
for want of recreation. In Naples there need never be any lack of
that. The city itself, with its noisy, laughing, jovial population,
seems to the English eye as though it was keeping one perpetual
holiday. The Strada Toledo looks to the sober northerner as though a
constant carnival were going on. Naples has itself to offer to the
visitor, with its never-ending gayety and its many-sided life--its
brilliant cafés, its lively theatres, its gay pantomimes, its
buffooneries, its macaroni, its lazaroni, and its innumerable
festivities. Naples has also a cluster of attractions all around it,
which keep their freshness longer than those of any other city. Among
these Obed Chute continued to take Zillah. To him it was the best
happiness that he could desire when he had succeeded in making the
time pass pleasantly for her. To see her face flush up with that
innocent girlish enthusiasm, and to hear her merry laugh, which was
still childlike in its freshness and abandon, was something so
pleasant that he would chuckle over it to himself all the evening
afterward.
So, as before, they drove about the environs or sailed over the bay.
Very little did Obed Chute know about that historic past which lived
and breathed amidst all these scenes through which he wandered. No
student of history was he. To him the cave of Polyphemus brought no
recollections; the isle of Capri was a simple isle of the sea, and
nothing more; Misenum could not give to his imagination the vanished
Roman navies; Puzzuoli could not show the traces of Saint Paul; and
there was nothing which could make known to him the mighty footprints
of the heroes of the past, from the time of the men of Osca, and
Cumae, and the builders of Paestum's Titan temples, down through all
the periods of Roman luxury, and through all gradations of men from
Cicero to Nero, and down farther to the last, and not the least of
all, Belisarius. The past was shut out, but it did not interfere with
his simple-hearted enjoyment. The present was sufficient for him. He
had no conception of art; and the proudest cathedrals of Naples, or
the noblest sculptures of her museums, or the most radiant pictures,
never awakened any emotion within him. Art was dumb to him; but then
there remained something greater than art, and that was nature.
Nature showed him here her rarest and divinest beauty; and if in the
presence of such beauty as that--beauty which glowed in immortal
lineaments wherever he turned his eyes--if before this he slighted
the lesser beauties of art, he might be sneered at by the mere
dilettante, but the emotions of his own soul were none the less true
and noble.
[Illustration: "Zillah's Capacity For Teaching Surprised Herself."]
One day they had arranged for a sail to Capri. Miss Chute could not
go, and Zillah went with Obed Chute alone. She had frequently done so
before. It was a glorious day. Most days in Naples are glorious. The
Neapolitan boatmen sang songs all the way--songs older, perhaps, than
the time of Massaniello--songs which may have come down from Norman,
or even from Roman days. There was one lively air which amused
Zillah--
"How happy is the fisher's life,
Eccomi Eccola,
The fisher and his faithful wife,
Eccola!"
It was a lively, ringing refrain, and the words had in them that
sentiment of domestic life which is not usually found in Continental
songs. The sea glittered around them. The boat danced lightly over
the waves. The gleaming atmosphere showed all the scenery with
startling distinctness. (Where is there an atmosphere like that of
Naples?) The sky was of an intense blue, and the deep azure of the
sea rivaled the color of the sky that bent above it. The breeze that
swept over the sea brought on its wings life and health and joy. All
around there flashed before them the white sails of countless boats
that sped in every direction over the surface of the waters.
They landed in Capri, and walked about the island. They visited the
cave, and strolled along the shore. At length they sat down on a
rock, and looked over the waters toward the city. Before them spread
out the sea, bounded by the white gleaming outline of Naples, which
extended far along the shore; on the left was Ischia; and on the
right Vesuvius towered on high, with its smoke cloud hovering over
it, and streaming far along through the air. Never before had the Bay
of Naples seemed so lovely. Zillah lost herself in her deep
admiration. Obed Chute also sat in profound silence. Usually he
talked; now, however, he said nothing. Zillah thought that he, like
herself, was lost in the beauty of this matchless scene.
At length the long silence was broken by Obed Chute.
"My child," said he, "for the last few weeks I have been thinking
much of you. You have wound yourself around my heart. I want to say
something to you now which will surprise you, perhaps--and, indeed, I
do not know how you will take it. But in whatever way you take it, do
not be afraid to tell me exactly how you feel. Whatever you may say,
I insist on being your friend. You once called me your 'best friend.'
I will never do any thing to lose that title."
Zillah looked up in wonder. She was bewildered. Her brain whirled,
and all presence of mind left her. She suspected what was coming, but
it seemed too extraordinary, and she could scarcely believe it. She
looked at him thus bewildered and confused, and Obed went calmly on.
"My child," said he, "you are so noble and so tender that it is not
surprising that you have fixed yourself fast in my old heart. You are
very dear and very precious to me. I do not know how I could bear to
have you leave me. I hope to have you near me while I live, in some
way or other. How shall it be? Will you be a daughter to me--or will
you be a wife?"
Obed Chute paused. He did not look at her as he said this. He did not
see the crimson flush that shot like lightning over that white and
beautiful face. He looked away over the sea.
But a deep groan from Zillah aroused him.
He started and turned.
Her face was upturned to his with an expression of agony. She clasped
his arms with a convulsive grasp, and seemed to gasp for breath.
"Oh God!" she cried. "Is this so? I must tell you this much, then--I
will divulge my secret. Oh, my friend--I am married!"