While Rosabella had been passing through these dark experiences, Flora
was becoming more and more accustomed to her new situation. She
strove bravely to conceal the homesickness which she could not always
conquer; but several times, in the course of their travels, Mrs.
Delano noticed moisture gathering on her long black eyelashes when she
saw the stars and stripes floating from the mast of a vessel. Once,
when a rose was given her, she wept outright; but she soon wiped her
eyes, and apologized by saying: "I wonder whether a _Pensée-Vivace_
makes Rosa feel as I do when I see a rose? But what an ungrateful
child I am, when I have such a dear, kind, new Mamita!" And a loving
smile again lighted up her swimming eyes,--those beautiful April eyes
of tears and sunshine, that made rainbows in the heart.
Mrs. Delano wisely kept her occupied with a succession of teachers and
daily excursions. Having a natural genius for music and drawing,
she made rapid progress in both during a residence of six months in
England, six months in France, and three months in Switzerland. And as
Mr. and Mrs. Percival were usually with them, she picked up, in
her quick way, a good degree of culture from the daily tone of
conversation. The one drawback to the pleasure of new acquisitions was
that she could not share them with Rosa.
One day, when she was saying this, Mrs. Delano replied: "We will go to
Italy for a short time, and then we will return to live in Boston. I
have talked the matter over a good deal with Mr. Percival, and I think
I should know how to guard against any contingency that may occur. And
as you are so anxious about your sister, I have been revolving plans
for taking you back to the island, to see whether we can ascertain
what is going on in that mysterious cottage."
From that time there was a very perceptible increase of cheerfulness
in Flora's spirits. The romance of such an adventure hit her youthful
fancy, while the idea of getting even a sly peep at Rosa filled her
with delight. She imagined all sorts of plans to accomplish this
object, and often held discussions upon the propriety of admitting
Tulee to their confidence.
Her vivacity redoubled when they entered Italy. She was herself
composed of the same materials of which Italy was made; and without
being aware of the spiritual relationship, she at once felt at home
there. She was charmed with the gay, impulsive people, the bright
costumes, the impassioned music, and the flowing language. The clear,
intense blue of the noonday sky, and the sun setting in a glowing sea
of amber, reminded her of her Southern home; and the fragrance of the
orange-groves was as incense waved by the memory of her childhood.
The ruins of Rome interested her less than any other features of the
landscape; for, like Bettini, she never asked who any of the ancients
were, for fear they would tell her. The play of sunshine on the
orange-colored lichens interested her more than the inscriptions they
covered; and while their guide was telling the story of mouldering
arches, she was looking through them at the clear blue sky and the
soft outline of the hills.
One morning they rode out early to spend a whole day at Albano; and
every mile of the ride presented her with some charming novelty. The
peasants who went dancing by in picturesque costumes, and the finely
formed women walking erect with vases of water on their heads, or
drawing an even thread from their distaffs, as they went singing
along, furnished her memory with subjects for many a picture.
Sometimes her exclamations would attract the attention of a group of
dancers, who, pleased with an exuberance of spirits akin to their own,
and not unmindful of forthcoming coin, would beckon to the driver
to stop, while they repeated their dances for the amusement of the
Signorina. A succession of pleasant novelties awaited her at Albano.
Running about among the ilex-groves in search of bright mosses, she
would come suddenly in front of an elegant villa, with garlands in
stucco, and balconies gracefully draped with vines. Wandering away
from that, she would utter a little cry of joy at the unexpected sight
of some reclining marble nymph, over which a little fountain threw a
transparent veil of gossamer sparkling with diamonds. Sometimes she
stood listening to the gurgling and dripping of unseen waters; and
sometimes melodies floated from the distance, which her quick ear
caught at once, and her tuneful voice repeated like a mocking-bird.
The childlike zest with which she entered into everything, and made
herself a part of everything, amused her quiet friend, and gave her
even more pleasure than the beauties of the landscape.
After a picnic repast, they ascended Monte Cavo, and looked down on
the deep basins of the lakes, once blazing with volcanic fire, now
full of water blue as the sky it reflected; like human souls in which
the passions have burned out, and left them calm recipients of those
divine truths in which the heavens are mirrored. As Mrs. Delano
pointed out various features in the magnificent panorama around them,
she began to tell Flora of scenes in the Aeneid with which they were
intimately connected. The young girl, who was serious for the moment,
dropped on the grass to listen, with elbows on her friend's lap, and
her upturned face supported by her hands. But the lecture was too
grave for her mercurial spirit; and she soon sprang up, exclaiming:
"O Mamita Lila, all those people were dead and buried so long ago! I
don't believe the princess that Aeneas was fighting about was half
as handsome as that dancing Contadina from Frascati, with a scarlet
bodice and a floating veil fastened among her black braids with a
silver arrow. How her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks glowed! And the
Contadino who was dancing with her, with those long streamers of red
ribbon flying round his peaked hat, he looked almost as handsome as
she did. How I wish I could see them dance the saltarello again! O
Mamita Lila, as soon as we get back to Rome, do buy a tambourine."
Inspired by the remembrance, she straightway began to hum the
monotonous tune of that grasshopper dance, imitating the hopping steps
and the quick jerks of the arms, marking the time with ever-increasing
rapidity on her left hand, as if it were a tambourine. She was so
aglow with the exercise, and so graceful in her swift motions, that
Mrs. Delano watched her with admiring smiles. But when the extempore
entertainment came to a close, she thought to herself: "It is a
hopeless undertaking to educate her after the New England pattern. One
might as well try to plough with a butterfly, as to teach her ancient
history."
When they had wandered about a little while longer, happy as souls
newly arrived in the Elysian Fields, Mrs. Delano said: "My child, you
have already gathered mosses enough to fill the carriage, and it is
time for us to return. You know twilight passes into darkness very
quickly here."
"Just let me gather this piece of golden lichen," pleaded she. "It
will look so pretty among the green moss, in the cross I am going to
make you for Christmas."
When all her multifarious gleanings were gathered up, they lingered
a little to drink in the beauty of the scene before them. In the
distance was the Eternal City, girdled by hills that stood out with
wonderful distinctness in the luminous atmosphere of that brilliant
day, which threw a golden veil over all its churches, statues, and
ruins. Before they had gone far on their homeward ride, all things
passed through magical changes. The hills were seen in vapory visions,
shifting their hues with opaline glances; and over the green, billowy
surface of the broad Campagna was settling a prismatic robe of mist,
changing from rose to violet. Earth seemed to be writing, in colored
notes, with tenderest modulations, her farewell hymn to the departing
God of Light. And the visible music soon took voice in the vibration
of vesper-bells, in the midst of which they entered Rome. Flora, who
was sobered by the solemn sounds and the darkening landscape, scarcely
spoke, except to remind Mrs. Delano of the tambourine as they drove
through the crowded Corso; and when they entered their lodgings in Via
delle Quattro Fontane, she passed to her room without any of her usual
skipping and singing. When they met again at supper her friend said:
"Why so serious? Is my little one tired?"
"I have been thinking, Mamita, that something is going to happen to
me," she replied; "for always when I am very merry something happens."
"I should think something would happen very often then," rejoined Mrs.
Delano with a smile, to which she responded with her ready little
laugh. "Several visitors called while we were gone," said Mrs. Delano.
"Our rich Boston friend, Mr. Green, has left his card. He follows us
very diligently." She looked at Flora as she spoke; but though the
light from a tall lamp fell directly on her face, she saw no emotion,
either of pleasure or embarrassment.
She merely looked up with a smile, as she remarked: "He always seems
to be going round very leisurely in search of something to entertain
him. I wonder whether he has found it yet."
Though she was really tired with the exertions of the day, the sight
of the new tambourine, after supper, proved too tempting; and she was
soon practising the saltarello again, with an agility almost equal to
that of the nimble Contadina from whom she had learned it. She was
whirling round more and more swiftly, as if fatigue were a thing
impossible to her, when Mr. Green was announced; and a very stylishly
dressed gentleman, with glossy shirt-bosom and diamond studs, entered
the room. She had had scarcely time to seat herself, and her face was
still flushed with exercise, while her dimples were revealed by a sort
of shy smile at the consciousness of having been so nearly caught
in her rompish play by such an exquisite. The glowing cheek and the
dimpling smile were a new revelation to Mr. Green; for he had never
interested her sufficiently to call out the vivacity which rendered
her so charming.
Mrs. Delano noticed his glance of admiration, and the thought
occurred, as it had often done before, what an embarrassing dilemma
she would be in, if he should propose marriage to her _protégée_.
"I called this morning," said he, "and found you had gone to Albano. I
was tempted to follow, but thought it likely I should miss you. It is
a charming drive."
"Everything is charming here, I think," rejoined Flora.
"Ah, it is the first time you have seen Rome," said he. "I envy you
the freshness of your sensations. This is the third time I have been
here, and of course it palls a little upon me."
"Why don't you go to some new place then?" inquired Flora.
"Where _is_ there any new place?" responded he languidly. "To be sure,
there is Arabia Petraea, but the accommodations are not good. Besides,
Rome has attractions for me at present; and I really think I meet more
acquaintances here than I should at home. Rome is beginning to swarm
with Americans, especially with Southerners. One can usually recognize
them at a glance by their unmistakable air of distinction. They are
obviously of porcelain clay, as Willis says."
"I think our New England Mr. Percival is as polished a gentleman as
any. I have seen," observed Mrs. Delano.
"He is a gentleman in manners and attainments, I admit," replied Mr.
Green; "but with his family and education, what a pity it is he has so
disgraced himself."
"Pray what has he done?" inquired the lady.
"Didn't you know he was an Abolitionist?" rejoined Mr. Green. "It is a
fact that he has actually spoken at their meetings. I was surprised
to see him travelling with you in England. It must be peculiarly
irritating to the South to see a man of his position siding with those
vulgar agitators. Really, unless something effectual can be done to
stop that frenzy, I fear Southern gentlemen will be unable to recover
a fugitive slave."
Flora looked at Mrs. Delano with a furtive, sideway glance, and a
half-smile on her lips. Her impulse was to jump up, dot one of her
quick courtesies, and say: "I am a fugitive slave. Please, sir, don't
give _me_ up to any of those distinguished gentlemen."
Mr. Green noticed her glance, and mistook it for distaste of his
theme. "Pardon me, ladies," said he, "for introducing a subject
tabooed in polite society. I called for a very different purpose. One
novelty remains for me in Rome. I have never seen the statues of the
Vatican by torchlight. Some Americans are forming a party for that
purpose to-morrow evening, and if you would like to join them, it will
give me great pleasure to be your escort."
Flora, being appealed to, expressed acquiescence, and Mrs. Delano
replied: "We will accept your invitation with pleasure. I have a great
predilection for sculpture."
"Finding myself so fortunate in one request encourages me to make
another," rejoined Mr. Green. "On the evening following Norma is to
be brought out, with a new _prima donna_, from whom great things are
expected. I should be much gratified if you would allow me to procure
tickets and attend upon you."
Flora's face lighted up at once. "I see what my musical daughter
wishes," said Mrs. Delano. "We will therefore lay ourselves under
obligations to you for two evenings' entertainment."
The gentleman, having expressed his thanks, bade them good evening.
Flora woke up the next morning full of pleasant anticipations. When
Mrs. Delano looked in upon her, she found her already dressed, and
busy with a sketch of the dancing couple from Frascati. "I cannot make
them so much alive as I wish," said she, "because they are not
in motion. No picture can give the gleamings of the arrow or the
whirlings of the veil. I wish we could dress like Italians. How I
should like to wear a scarlet bodice, and a veil fastened with a
silver arrow."
"If we remained till Carnival, you might have that pleasure," replied
Mrs. Delano; "for everybody masquerades as they like at that time. But
I imagine you would hardly fancy my appearance in scarlet jacket, with
laced sleeves, big coral necklace, and long ear-rings, like that old
Contadina we met riding on a donkey."
Flora laughed. "To think of Mamita Lila in such costume!" exclaimed
she. "The old Contadina would make a charming picture; but a picture
of the Campagna, sleepy with purple haze, would be more like you."
"Am I then so sleepy?" inquired her friend.
"O, no, not sleepy. You know I don't mean that. But so quiet; and
always with some sort of violet or lilac cloud for a dress. But here
comes Carlina to call us to breakfast," said she, as she laid down her
crayon, and drummed the saltarello on her picture while she paused a
moment to look at it.
As Mrs. Delano wished to write letters, and Flora expected a teacher
in drawing, it was decided that they should remain at home until
the hour arrived for visiting the Vatican. "We have been about
sight-seeing so much," said Mrs. Delano, "that I think it will be
pleasant to have a quiet day." Flora assented; but as Mrs. Delano
wrote, she could not help smiling at her ideas of quietude. Sometimes
rapid thumps on the tambourine might be heard, indicating that the
saltarello was again in rehearsal. If a _piffero_ strolled through the
street, the monotonous drone of his bagpipe was reproduced in most
comical imitation; and anon there was a gush of bird-songs, as if a
whole aviary were in the vicinity. Indeed, no half-hour passed without
audible indication that the little recluse was in merry mood.
At the appointed time Mr. Green came to conduct them to the Vatican.
They ascended the wide slopes, and passed through open courts into
long passages lined with statues, and very dimly lighted with
occasional lamps. Here and there a marble figure was half revealed,
and looked so spectral in the gloaming that they felt as if they were
entering the world of spirits. Several members of the party preceded
them, and all seemed to feel the hushing influence, for they passed
on in silence, and stepped softly as they entered the great Palace
of Art. The torch-bearers were soon in readiness to illuminate the
statues, which they did by holding a covered light over each, making
it stand out alone in the surrounding darkness, with very striking
effects of light and shadow. Flora, who was crouched on a low seat by
the side of Mrs. Delano, gazed with a reverent, half-afraid feeling
on the thoughtful, majestic looking Minerva Medica. When the graceful
vision of Venus Anadyomene was revealed, she pressed her friend's
hand, and the pressure was returned. But when the light was held over
a beautiful Cupid, the face looked out from the gloom with such
an earnest, childlike expression, that she forgot the presence of
strangers, and impulsively exclaimed, "O Mamita, how lovely!"
A gentleman some little distance in front of them turned toward
them suddenly, at the sound of her voice; and a movement of the
torch-bearer threw the light full upon him for an instant. Flora hid
her face in the lap of Mrs. Delano, who attributed the quick action
to her shame at having spoken so audibly. But placing her hand
caressingly on her shoulder, she felt that she was trembling
violently. She stooped toward her, and softly inquired, "What is the
matter, dear?"
Flora seized her head with both hands, and, drawing it closer,
whispered: "Take me home, Mamita! Do take me right home!"
Wondering what sudden caprice had seized the emotional child, she
said, "Why, are you ill, dear?"
Flora whispered close into her ear: "No, Mamita. But Mr. Fitzgerald is
here."
Mrs. Delano rose very quietly, and, approaching Mr. Green, said: "My
daughter is not well, and we wish to leave. But I beg you will return
as soon as you have conducted us to the carriage."
But though he was assured by both the ladies that nothing alarming was
the matter, when they arrived at their lodgings he descended from the
driver's seat to assist them in alighting. Mrs. Delano, with polite
regrets at having thus disturbed his pleasure, thanked him, and bade
him good evening. She hurried after Flora, whom she found in her room,
weeping bitterly. "Control your feelings, my child," said she. "You
are perfectly safe here in Italy."
"But if he saw me, it will make it so very unpleasant for you,
Mamita."
"He couldn't see you; for we were sitting in very deep shadow,"
replied Mrs. Delano. "But even if he had seen you, I should know how
to protect you."
"But what I am thinking of," said Floracita, still weeping, "is that
he may have brought Rosa with him, and I can't run to her this very
minute. I _must_ see her! I _will_ see her! If I have to tell ever so
many _fibititas_ about the reason of my running away."
"I wouldn't prepare any _fibititas_ at present," rejoined Mrs. Delano.
"I always prefer the truth. I will send for Mr. Percival, and ask
him to ascertain whether Mr. Fitzgerald brought a lady with him.
Meanwhile, you had better lie down, and keep as quiet as you can. As
soon as I obtain any information, I will come and tell you."
When Mr. Percival was informed of the adventure at the Vatican, he
sallied forth to examine the lists of arrivals; and before long
he returned with the statement that Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald were
registered among the newcomers. "Flora would, of course, consider that
conclusive," said he; "but you and I, who have doubts concerning that
clandestine marriage, will deem it prudent to examine further."
"If it should prove to be her sister, it will be a very embarrassing
affair," rejoined Mrs. Delano.
Mr. Percival thought it very unlikely, but said he would ascertain
particulars to-morrow.
With that general promise, without a knowledge of the fact already
discovered, Flora retired to rest; but it was nearly morning before
she slept.