CONVALESCENCE.
I will not dwell on the wearisome details of a sick room; my escape
from death was almost miraculous, still the injuries I received were
dangerous, and my recovery retarded by the fever consequent on my slow
and painful transit from the scene of the accident to Winter's house,
where he insisted on establishing me, on the plea that he was partly
the cause of my sufferings. Here all that kindness and skill could
accomplish, was done to alleviate them; poor Gilpin watching over me
with the affection of a brother, and the tenderness of woman. Mrs.
O'Toole, too, seemed a fixture by my bedside, and when in the delirium
of fever, no voice had so much influence over me, I was told, as the
rich tones of her mellifluous brogue.
Burton and Colonel Dashwood came over from Carrington, on receiving
despatches announcing the accident, and the former finding me in such
good hands, gave up his intention of remaining with me. Notwithstanding
all the care and watchfulness expended on me, October was well nigh
past before the spectacled, shovel-hatted Galen of A---- pronounced
a visit to the drawing room feasible; and my utter exhaustion, when
the transit from my room was effected, proved the correctness of his
judgment.
There I lay stretched on the sofa, strength and energy alike vanished,
finding a sufficient exercise for all my faculties, in watching the
twinkling of Mrs. Winter's knitting needles, and enjoying a delicious
languor, partly the result of weakness, partly of freedom from pain.
Where was the resolution with which I was to disentangle my affairs,
rouse my brother to a sense of duty, and try my chance of winning Kate
Vernon? Buried in the ruins of the "Lady's Tower," as it was called,
while I was utterly unable to move without assistance, and indebted to
Mrs. Winter's unceasing attention for the conveyance of every spoonful
of jelly that reached my lips, yet in spite of all, I was almost glad
to be thus compelled to postpone for the present my intentions.
It was so delightful to feel that no exertion could be expected from
me, and that I was chained within the magic circle of Kate Vernon's
influence, without the possibility of Burton or any one else caviling
at the cause. Yet such is the miserable vanity of our petty nature, I
rather delayed seeing her, even after the doctor had declared visitors
admissible. The Colonel had from the first seen me almost daily,
and now no morning passed, without a visit from him to tell me the
news--what the troops in India were about; what the _Times_ said of
the Ministry, and of the enquiries made for me by Colonel Dashwood and
my brother officers; in short, I was an occupation to him, and always
welcomed his appearance with a warmth too genuine not to touch his
benevolent heart.
Winter had received one or two notes of inquiry from my brother,
finally a formal letter of thanks for his attention to me, and Egerton
appeared to relapse into his usual forgetfulness of my existence.
My days generally passed in a sort of routine order, each person of our
little society giving me a portion of their time in turn. The Colonel
in the morning, when Winter was out and his wife in the subterranean
regions, devoted to gastronomy; then Gilpin used to look in between
the intervals of his music lessons; after this came a dreary pause,
before Mrs. Winter was sufficiently at liberty to take up her strangely
soothing work, and Winter still in his studio.
I was unequal to the effort of perusing a book, and longed for some one
to read to me, so I generally lay "chewing the cud of sweet and bitter
fancy" from one to two o'clock, and curious enough, as my strength
slowly returned, the bitter predominated; my mind seemed to gather
force enough to feel the weight of responsibilities, from which the
weakness it shared with its closely linked associate, the body, had
freed it for a while. Is it not thus that spirits and forms of slighter
make, and less comprehensive faculties manage to cast away sorrows and
sicknesses that would shatter more robust and powerful frames.
Woe to him whose deep and sensitive feelings are not linked with a
nature strong enough to direct and support them. And for those from
whose light-hearted buoyancy, care and regret seem to glance away as if
from polished armour; why should we dare to sneer at their apparent
frivolity? shall not nature which has furnished every living thing with
its own peculiar weapon, provide the spirit with a fitting defence
against the deadly foes that beset it. _Maraviglia_, as Winter would
say, what profound reflections for a Captain of Light Dragoons!
The interval I have described was dragging its dreary length slowly
over one determined wet day, dark and misty, the clouds having
apparently come down to earth in a fit of hysterics; the trees in the
Abbey garden visible from my sofa had a thoroughly drenched saturated
look as if nothing could ever dry them; once or twice the tramp tramp
of a pair of heavy hob-nailed shoes echoed through the square, and the
wearer trudged by in glistening oilskin cap, a sack thrown over his
shoulders, and a shivering dripping dog at his heels; but beyond this
no living creature showed out of shelter. It was too much, I fancied,
even for the most aquatically inclined duck. I felt the want of
companionship deplorably. What could Winter mean by pretending business
with the Dean this morning? If he was at home I would have some one to
speak to, it is too dark to paint.
There was a low knock at the door, and Mrs. O'Toole's broad pleasant
face appeared, beaming on me over a tray which she carried.
"Ah, Nurse," I exclaimed, "how delighted I am to see you here--shake
hands." I got quite affectionate at the idea of a pleasant chat with
Mrs. O'Toole.
"Och, jewel, now be asy! don't be strivin' to sit up; sure I'll settle
the pillas for ye, before y'd say thrap stick, if you'd have patience.
There now, take a sup of it, I made ye a nice drop of jelly meeself;
sure little Mrs. Winter's a good soul, but I don't like them English
ways of puttin' lard an' suet into their paste instead of the best
ov good buther; faith, ses I to meeself, may be it's glue they'll be
puttin' in the jelly, so I made ye a drop; an' Mrs. Winter ses, mighty
good humoured, 'Walk up, Mrs. O'Toole, in coorse nothin' plaises the
Captin so much as what you make.' Dear knows it's the t'underin' wet
day; an' how are ye, agrah?"
I may observe _en passant_ that Mrs. O'Toole had treated me more like
a pet child than a respected "Right Honourable" since my illness, and
rather ruled me with a rod of iron.
I replied to her kind enquiries, and asked for Miss Vernon.
"Is it Miss Kate? she's singin' like a lark. Ses she, 'Nurse, be sure
you ask Captin Egerton when I may go see him; I'm sure,' ses she, 'he's
angry with me for making him go back to help Mr. Gilpin,' ses she, 'or
he'd let me go see him as well as every one else,' ses she."
"Did she though? I am most happy she made me instrumental in saving
Mr. Gilpin's life, and of course I'll be too glad to see her the next
time she calls on Mrs. Winter; but Nurse, don't I look confoundedly
wretched?"
"Musha is it that ye'r thinkin' of? ye needn't bother ye'r head about
it, honey. If ye were like ould Dan Kelly (an' he'd a broken nose an'
a cast in his two eyes), Miss Kate, 'ud think the sun shone in ye'r
face afther ye'r goin back to help the crather of an organist, an every
one else runin' away. She ses"--
"Oh! it was a natural instinct to help him."
"Faith, it 'ud come more natural to many a one to save himself. I'll
never forget the night ye come home all bruised an' bloody, widout
as much life in ye as 'ud stand a pooff, Gilpin houldin' yer head,
Winter cursin' (God forgive him) like a throoper in Greek or Latin;
the ould masther, as studdy as a rock, sending off right an' left for
everything, an' Miss Kate as white as a sheet, an' thrimblin' from head
to fut, not spakin' a word, an' keepin' quiet as a lamb, just not to
disturb any one. Musha, but we'd the ruction!"
"I can never forget the great kindness you all showed me; I must have
been a great trouble to you when I was delirious; do you remember what
I raved about?"
"Oh! you was rampagin mad; it was ordtherin' the army one minit, an'
followin' the hounds the next, an' shoutin' murther to save Miss Kate,
for whatever ye began with, it iver an' always ended with her; may be
ye have a sisther called Kate."
"No, it was your Miss Kate that always seemed to me in some deadly
danger, and I could not rescue her; your voice used invariably to break
the spell; but did any one else hear me except you?"
"I couldn't take upon me to say, but Mr. Gilpin an' meeself was wid ye
most times."
"Hum! and Miss Vernon, you did not mention my delusions to her?"
"In course I did."
"And what did she say?"
Mrs. O'Toole just thought for a moment, and then looking up in my face,
said, "Is it Miss Kate? Ses she--'isn't it odd, dear Nurse, how people
rave about those they never think of when sane,' ses she; sane or
sinsible was the word, but I _dis_ remember which."
Not much tenderness or recognition of my feelings there, I thought!
"_Tant mieux_, you may put away the cup, Nurse, it was so good I quite
enjoyed it: and tell me, did you see Colonel Dashwood when he was over
here?"
"Is it the 'Curnel? To be sure I did, he was twizte over at the Priory,
an' a fine grand lookin' gentleman he is; he wanted the masther to
go back with him, but, ses he, 'No, Dashwood, I'm too old for a mess
table, an' I would have no pleasure widout poor Egerton, at all
evints,' ses he; an' then Miss Kate ups, an' ses she, 'If you take
grandpapa, 'Curnel, you must take me too, for we are--' Musha, I forget
the word."
"Inseparable," I suggested.
"Somethin' like it, anyhow; and then the 'Curnel bowed mighty grand,
an' ses he--'Arrah, then, it's the whole rigmint 'ull be wantin'
'Curnel Vernon, if I mintion them conditions,' ses he."
I laughed to a degree that alarmed Nurse, at the idea of our dashing
thorough-bred colonel prefacing his speech with "arrah, thin."
"I'll lave ye intirely if ye be shakin' yerself that way, when ye
havn't the stringth in ye to laugh out."
"Oh Nurse, dear Nurse, do not go, tell me something more."
"I havn't a ha'poth more to tell ye, an its time for me to be going.
The blessin' of Christ be wid ye, ye'r lookin' ten stone bether, Glory
be to God."
The next day in consequence of Nurse's report, Miss Vernon came with
her grandfather. I almost expected her, yet her advent made me feel
strangely nervous; it seemed strange to me too, being unable to rise,
that she should come over, and place her hand in mine, when I could not
stir to receive her; she sat down near me and began talking in a gentle
subdued tone, as if half afraid of disturbing me.
"You look much better than I expected, Captain Egerton; what a
wonderful recovery! But why would you not let me come here before?"
"I was afraid my ghastly looks would frighten you."
"You look all eyes now."
In a whisper, "I am."
"I do not think you look so well to day, Egerton, you have a feverish
excited air, and your voice is decidedly weaker," observed the Colonel.
"Perhaps we ought not to stay," said Miss Vernon.
"I beg you will not leave me," I gasped.
After a little more conversation a message from Mr. Winter called the
Colonel out of the room, and Kate and I were _tête-à-tête_.
"Nurse gave rather a melancholy account of you yesterday," said Miss
Vernon, "she said you were all alone and '_dissolute_' by yourself.
Have you no books?"
"I do not feel up to reading, but if I had any one to read out to
me--Gilpin has not time."
"I would be delighted, I will come here and read to you and Mrs. Winter
every day."
"You are most kind."
The excitement of her visit was too much for me, and I felt a faintness
stealing over me. Miss Vernon observing the deadly pallor of my face,
with an expression of alarm, felt my pulse. "Let me call some one,"
she said. I feebly grasped her hand, dreading that an interview so
delightful to me should be curtailed.
"It is nothing--air, air!" I articulated with much difficulty. Still
leaving her hand in mine, she stretched the other to a screen, and
fanned me silently for a few moments; then perceiving the returning
colour, "Are you better now?" she said softly, with such an expression
of tenderness in her dark eyes, I could have thrown myself at her feet.
"If you will let go my hand I will get you a little of that bottle; I
see 'restorative' on it" she added, without a shade of embarrassment,
evidently considering my desire to retain it some sickly fancy. I
reluctantly relinquished my hold and turning to the table she gave me
the medicine and then arranged my pillows in such a home-like manner.
From that interview, the sort of unsettled but ardent admiration I
had before entertained for her, seemed to deepen into something purer,
higher, more devoted, and unselfish, than I had ever felt before. I
looked forward to the possibility of calling her my wife; not with
the rash eagerness to possess a new toy, or to give life a new charm,
but with a deep rooted conviction that with her at my side, come weal
or woe, I would have love and truth and strength there always and
unchangeably.
From this time she came over constantly after my host's early dinner,
and read aloud, while Mrs. Winter pursued her occupation of knitting;
and I lay on my sofa all eye and ear. Winter and the Colonel often
joined our party, but the former was too fond of raising questions in
opposition to the opinions of whatever author we were perusing.
Miss Vernon generally chose the books she was to read, and I could not
help thinking she had some design in her selection; they were generally
thoughtful, high toned works, not coming under the denomination
of religious literature; but yet setting forth in a strong, though
unobtrusive manner, the necessity of faith; the healing power of
resignation.
I hinted one day that I could see she intended to convert me; she
disclaimed such an intention very eagerly, concluding, "why should I
pretend to do so; I am sure you are as good as I am! I consulted Mr.
Gilpin about the books, and took what he advised, and I like them too,
for I feel they do me good; but I will bring you a novel to-morrow."
She did so, and chose Zanoni, excluding Winter from the lecture. I did
thoroughly enjoy it.
Miss Vernon seemed to identify herself with its noble thoughts, its
wild imaginings, its grand philosophy, and high-souled spirit of
self-sacrifice! Her musical voice varying with every sentiment it
expressed, and often laying down the book to discuss its character
with an interest and affection that invested them with life-like
reality: I had glanced over the work before, and put it down with an
acknowledgment, certainly, of the author's great genius, but with an
idea that it was beyond the scope of my imagination to enjoy. Kate's
readings and remarks on it revealed me to myself, and showed me I had
aspirations and capabilities for better things: yet it was merely the
outpouring of her own heart, and she would have raised her darkly
fringed eyelids in astonishment had any one told her she was making a
silent revolution in mine.
Poor Mrs. Winter used to listen to our animated debates on Viola and
Glyndon, &c., in perfect amazement, and when appealed to by Kate for
an opinion, replied with a smile, "Indeed, my dear, I don't know; it's
a very curious book, and quite impossible to believe any man could see
and know everything the way that Mr. Zanoni did."
Longfellow's poems, then attracting notice for the first time in
England, were great favourites with Miss Vernon, and here she and
Winter perfectly agreed, for a wonder. These were hours of intense
happiness: the exterior world all forgotten, I lived in a fairy-like
dream, with just sufficient of earth around me to prove it real; my
strength was now rapidly returning, and I began to feel this delicious
breathing space from life's ruder joys and ruder cares had lasted long
enough. Once or twice I had caught Winter watching Kate and myself as
we sat apart rather from the others--she pouring forth her opinions on
some favourite author with all her accustomed enthusiasm--I wrapped
in contemplation of her, and thinking but little of the subject which
engrossed her thoughts.
Winter, I repeat, would sometimes glance uneasily at us as we sat thus,
but I always observed serenity return to his countenance, as his eye
rested on Miss Vernon.
It soon grew into a habit, that the Vernons and Gilpin should come in
every evening; Kate and the Organist taking it by turns to cut into the
rubber or talk with me, as I showed a decided disinclination for the
society of Miss Araminta Cox, who usually made up the whist table;
we had a good deal of music too, my favourite songs were all duly
remembered, and all my whims so kindly attended to, I almost regretted
that soon no excuse would remain for prolonging my sojourn amongst
them. The first day I ventured to walk out, Burton came over from
Carrington with a packet of letters, arrived during my illness; there
were some pleasant reminders from my solicitors that Messrs. Levi and
Co.'s bill would soon be due, and that they kindly offered to renew on
exorbitant terms. One or two missives of the same nature; an epistle
from Egerton, congratulating me on my escape from the infernal regions,
which he seemed clearly of opinion would have been my destination, had
not Nature or the Doctor been too strong for Grim Death, and concluding
with an exhortation to read the 25th chapter of St. Matthew. "He is
worse than ever," was my reflection, as I finished the perusal, "what a
Herculean labour I have before me, in the attempt to soften the heart
of such a thoroughgoing Evangelical. They always manage to convince
themselves that it is for the good of their souls that their pockets
should be hermetically sealed against the wants of their brothers. But
I must get out of Messrs. Levi's clutches at any cost."
Lastly, a long rambling but affectionate letter from my sister, telling
me more of English gossip, than I could imagine the _dolce far niente_
of Neapolitan life had left her energy enough to collect.
"I feel rather distressed, dear Fred," she said, after giving me an
amusing sketch of the society about her, "at the profoundly moral tone
of your letter, and fear you must be in debt, (not far out there) for
you never were very serious about any love affair; tell me what is the
matter? You know we are rich, and Harry always liked you. I have been
so bored about some absurd speech of Egerton's at Exeter Hall; they
tell me, (for I never read such things) he said, 'the ministry had
delivered the nation, bound hand and foot to Beelzebub, where they sent
an Ambassador to Antichrist (meaning the Pope);' do find out if this
is true, for the people here have discovered he is my brother, and the
women always cross themselves when I enter a room, which is so absurd,
and disagreeable: the men only laugh. I am much better, and we think of
returning to England next spring. I wish you would get leave of absence
and run over to us, for the winter. It is too dreadful to think of
your being condemned to remain at that horrible place; would it not be
better to live altogether at A----, if you must be near your Regiment.
Talking of you the other night to Count Alphonso Di Montibello, he said
there was a famous painter, a great ally of his, who used to study
here, now living at A----; do you know any thing of him?
"Now, dear Fred, good bye, write soon again to me; ever your
affectionate sister,
"Mary F. Wentworth."
"P.S.--Harry desires his remembrances; I had almost forgotten Lady
Desmond; of course I know her, every one does; she is a most charming
person, and creates a perfect _furore_ here; such taste, and certainly
the most ladylike Irishwoman I ever met; she has refused a perfect army
of Counts and Marquises. _Cela va sans dire_; but if report speaks
true, that nice creature Sir Charles Seyton shared the same fate. They
say Adolphus Somerset, one of our _attachés_, got sick leave, after
offering his little diplomatic self for her acceptance, and receiving
one fixed look from her dark eyes! I have a theory of my own that Lady
Desmond, calm, proud, and cold as she seems, has a _tendresse_ for a
certain _blasé_ peer, at present among our most prominent notorieties;
he piques himself on his cynicism, and is rather in the Satanic style;
very ridiculous I think! They tell me dreadful stories of him. Lady
Desmond talks of travelling with us as far as Florence next spring;
if you have any _engouement_ for her, get rid of it, I would advise
you, for she had some trouble to recall your memory to hers, and seemed
quite astonished when I told her you had made any enquiries about her.
Adieu once more."
How thoroughly characteristic her letter is of the life she leads,
kindly and polished, but trifling and self-absorbed! I must ask Winter
about this Count Alphonso di ----, what is it?
"And is your business so urgent that you cannot put it off till you are
stronger?" said the old Colonel to me about a week after the receipt of
the above, when I announced my intention of starting for Allerton, my
brother's place in Hampshire.
"It is indeed," I replied, so gloomily, that my kind old friend asked,
"Nothing disagreeable I hope?"
"Nothing very pleasant," said I, forcing a laugh; "I will tell you all
when I come back; do not look so gravely at me, Miss Vernon."
"Did I? I was not aware of it; but are you not very rash to travel so
soon?"
"No, I would get a fever if I remained."