On one of the spurs of the Apennines, where that large chain, which
forms as it were the spine of Southern Italy, approaches most closely
to the Mediterranean at its northern extremity, just about half way
between the fair town of Piacenza and the frontiers of Piedmont, there
stood in those days, and there stands still, an inn, to which the
inhabitants of the neighbouring city frequently resort in the summer
months, to enjoy the cool upland air and the beautiful scenery. It is
situated a little higher up than Borgonovo, and then bore the name of
La Festa Galante. The scenery round is wild and uncultivated, but full
of picturesque beauty, with myrtle-covered hills sloping down gently
to the wide plains of Lombardy, which lie stretching out to an immense
extent till sight is lost in the blue distance. Ten days after the
events which I have related in the last chapter, the Earl of Gowrie
and his fair companion were seated on the slope of the hill, at about
a quarter of a mile from the inn, gazing down with delight on the
splendid landscape beneath them, while the setting sun poured his last
rays over the mountains and the plain, and gilded the steeples and the
towers of Piacenza, making the city look much nearer than it really
was. The distance might be some seventeen or eighteen miles, and the
period of the year had passed when the inhabitants of the town were
accustomed to come thither to escape the heated streets and crowded
thoroughfares. There were no other guests in the house but the earl
and his party; and a more quiet and secluded spot could not well have
been chosen for fugitives to rest after a long flight, or lovers to
pass a few days of happy repose. The proximity of another state, too,
by crossing the frontier of which security could soon be obtained,
might be one reason why the earl had selected that spot as a place of
temporary sojourn after the fatigues and anxieties which Julia had
lately endured, for Voghera was not farther distant than Piacenza, and
the actual boundary was within two miles of the inn.
All was calm and still around them. Mr. Rhind sat reading a little
farther down the hill. A servant girl, who, with a sort of adventurous
spirit which often characterizes the peasantry of that part of the
country, had agreed to quit her home at Borgonovo, and accompany the
strangers into distant lands, was plying the busy needle within call.
The sleepy evening sunshine and the blue shadow crept in longer and
longer lines over the short turf and the scattered myrtle bushes, and
overhead, stretched out like a canopy, the broad dark branches of four
or five gigantic pines, while, at a little distance along the face of
the hill, was seen peeping out a Palladian villa, with large chesnut
trees, serving rather to break the hard straight lines than to conceal
that a house stood there. The villa indeed was uninhabited, for its
owner had retired into the city for the cooler and more rainy months
of winter; but still it gave to a scene unusually wild that air of
habitation and society which, under most circumstances, is pleasant
from the associations produced.
Their conversation was not gay, but it was cheerful--far more cheerful
than it had been since last they met; for memory of the dead had
darkened the horizon behind them, and frequent apprehension had spread
clouds over the prospect before. At several places where they had
stopped by the way, causes of alarm had occurred; and even at Piacenza
they had found reason to doubt their security. A man, who had known
Mr. Rhind in Padua, had met him in the streets, and told him a
distorted tale of poor Manucci's death and Julia's flight, declaring
boldly that the old man had been addicted to unlawful arts, and that
it was suspected his granddaughter had aided him in their pursuit. He
added, however--what neutralized in the mind of his hearer the effect
of his tale, as far as poor Julia was concerned--that she was clearly
guilty, because she had never been known to come to confession or seek
absolution of the priest. Now, however, both Gowrie and her he loved
felt in security, for he had taken measures to guard against surprise;
and the memory of the loss she had lately sustained had been somewhat
softened by time and the rapid passing of many stirring events. Gowrie
strove to cheer her, to remove apprehension, to efface the traces of
the first deep sorrow she had known; and though gaiety would have
jarred with her feelings, yet a cheerful tone mingled with deep
thought, will often find its way to a heart which would reject direct
consolation and fly from painful merriment.
On the preceding day she and Gowrie had read together the papers which
had been intrusted to him by Manucci, and the perusal had been sad;
for there she found the tale of all that her parents had suffered, and
though she could not but rejoice to feel that no disparity between her
own rank and that of her husband could make his friends look cold upon
her, yet the impression--at least the first impression--was
melancholy.
He had marked it at the time, and would not recur to the subject now,
but spoke of other things of a lighter nature, but which had more or
less connexion with deeper and stronger feelings.
"It is indeed a fair spot of earth, this pleasant land of Italy," he
said, as they gazed over the scene before their eyes; "and yet, my
loved Julia, there is always something sad in it to my sight. The
memories of the glorious past contrast so strongly with the painful
realities of the present, that I can never enjoy these bright scenes
without wishing that a happier lot had been assigned to those who
inhabit them."
"But there are bright things here still," replied Julia; "if the glory
of arms is gone, the glory of arts still survives."
"And policy has succeeded liberty," said Gowrie, with a faint smile;
"but let us not, love, dwell upon regrets. How gloriously the rays of
the setting sun are painting, almost with ethereal splendour, that
high _campanile_ and the old castle by its side, while the purple
shadow, resting upon the village below, marks it out upon the
illuminated bosom of the hill. There may be more peace, perhaps, under
that obscurity, than in the sun-lighted towers above. I am resolved,
dear girl, to seek no glories. See!--even now the splendour is passing
away, and the gorgeous fabric is almost lost to sight. No, no! content
and happiness are jewels better worth the seeking than all that
ambition can offer or power can give."
"Thank Heaven you feel so," answered Julia; "but tell me, Gowrie,
something of your own land--of my land too--of our land. I fear me,
from the way in which you admire the scenes we pass through here, that
it wants that beauty which charms you so much."
"Oh, no!" answered Gowrie; "it has beauties of its own, far different,
but not less great. Its skies are often full of clouds, and its air of
mists; rugged and stern are many of its features, and its winds are
cold and strong. But those clouds give infinite variety to all they
pass over; and if it be not a land of sunshine, it is at least a land
of gleams. The shadow and the light wreath themselves in airy dance
over the prospect, and the purple heath and yellow broom supply to us
the myrtle and the gentia, hardly less fragrant, and in nought less
beautiful. Then, the grey mists--let them not scare you--for when they
rise in the morning rays from out the valleys, winding themselves
round the tall hills, they look like a grey cloak trimmed with gold
wrapping the limbs of the giant genius of the land. Then, though the
features of the landscape are, as I have said, bold and rude, they
attain in the sublime what they lose in the beautiful, and striking
the imagination elevate the mind.--Yet there are many beauties too,
soft and gentle and pleasant to look upon; for it is not all the deep
dim lake, the rocky mountains, the roaring cataract; but there are
scenes as sweet and placid as any even in this bright land; and where
you find them, they seem like a smile upon a warrior's face in a
moment of peace and repose."
"I shall love it, I am sure," replied Julia; "for though I have seen
but little of this wide world, yet I have often gazed at beautiful
pictures with feelings that I can hardly describe--a love and a
longing to penetrate into the deep glades, to roam amongst the rocky
hills, to trace the glistening river through the woods, to see how the
lake ends amongst the mountains, to solve all the mysteries which the
painter has left to be the sport of fancy. But I have ever, though
pleased with both, loved those pictures best which show me grand and
striking scenes. They seem to lift up my heart more directly unto God.
The rocks and mountains seem the steps of his temple, his altar on the
summit of the hills. But what like is your own place at Perth?"
"Our place," said Gowrie, pressing the small hand that lay in his;
"'tis a large old house in one of the most beautiful cities in the
land, with wide chambers and long galleries.--But look, my Julia,
there is a horseman coming along the road from Borgonovo, and spurring
hither at great speed. It must be my good fellow Austin, who is
watching there; and lo! there are two others following at a somewhat
slower pace. Hola, Catharina, call out the men! We need not fear the
coming of two men, if there be no more behind. I think that second
figure looks like Hume. He does not ride in the Italian fashion. But
still he could hardly have reached Padua, and followed us hither so
soon. The first is certainly Austin, and he spares not the spur."
They stood and watched him, while some three or four servants, well
armed, as was the custom of that day, came out and ranged themselves
near their lord. In the meantime, the first horseman was lost to their
sight, plunging in amid some brown woods which lay at the bottom of
the slope. Then, re-appearing, he rode more slowly up the steep hill,
while the other two who followed were in turn concealed by the wood.
In a few minutes, Austin Jute sprang to the ground by his lord's side,
saying, "Sir John Hume, my lord, is coming up; and I rode forward to
warn you."
"You should not have left the village, Austin," said the earl; "I bade
you stay, unless you saw cause for apprehension."
"True, my lord," answered the man; "but I have other tidings too. Bad
tidings make the messenger ugly, so I told the good first. I fear you
will have to move in the cool of the evening, for there is a fat
dominican, a slink official, and two servitors, down there below, who,
I wot, seek no good to the signora. I talked with them easily, and
made myself as simple as a dove for their benefit. But there need be
no hurry and no fear, lady," he continued, seeing Julia's cheek turn
somewhat pale, with that sick-hearted feeling which comes upon us
amidst the anxieties of the world, when we have known a brief period
of repose, and the fiend of apprehension appears at our side again.
"Cheer up, cheer up! there are only four of them, and we more than
double their number. They wont get much help from the podesta, who is
an atheist, thank Heaven! Besides, full barrels roll slow, and they
are now filling themselves with both meat and drink. It was their
first call, and I bestowed on each of them a bottle of a wine which I
knew to be heady on an empty stomach."
"Here comes Hume," said the earl. "Keep watch on that point of rock,
Austin. In half an hour it will be dark; and methinks they will not
travel after sun-down."
"If they do," answered Austin Jute, "I will undertake to rob them of
their breviaries, and make them think a single man a whole troop of
banditti; for, being cruel, they must be cowards--at least I never saw
those two bad things apart."
"Nothing of the kind, if you please, Jute," replied the earl, who had
little doubt, from long knowledge of his servant's character, that he
was very likely to execute in frolic what he proposed in jest. "Go
where I have told you, and watch the road well till night falls, or
till I tell you to return."
"I suppose, if I see them trotting up, I may ride down to bid God
speed them, my lord?" said Jute, taking two or three steps away. "I
heard one of the learned professors at Padua say, 'Always meet a
coming evil;' and he added some Latin, which I don't recollect."
The earl did not reply, but turned to greet his friend Hume, who, as
gay and light-hearted as ever, shook his hand with a jest, saying,
"Here is a letter for you, Gowrie; may it bring good news, though it
came last from an evil place. Dear lady, you may well look lovely, for
you have turned the heads of all the doctors of Padua, only it
unluckily happens that the effect of beauty, like that of the sun, is
changed by what it shines upon, bringing forth fruits and flowers in
the garden and the field, and hatching viper's eggs upon a dunghill.
They all declare you are an enchantress; and though Gowrie and a great
many more may think the same thing, it is in a very different sense."
"They do me great wrong," answered Julia, sadly; "and they did wrong
to him who is gone, for his whole mind was turned to doing good to his
fellow-men, and certainly never dreamed of evil. If all people were as
innocent of guile as he was, we should have a more peaceable world."
"They are not very peaceable in Padua," replied Hume, "for there has
been a riot, and many broken heads. I have to thank it, perhaps, for
being here, however, for the worthy council of asses had well nigh
made up their minds to cause my arrest for having pronounced Gaelic,
Gaelic; and I do believe, if they did not understand Italian, they
would pronounce it magic also. Well, what news, Gowrie? If your
epistle be as placable as mine from the same hand, your affairs will
go smoothly, and happiness have a green turf to canter over. For my
part, I shall go through the rest of Europe like a shot out of a
culverin, till I stop rolling, at dear Beatrice's pretty little feet."
While he had been speaking, Lord Gowrie had been examining the
contents of the letter which his friend had given him; and although
his eye had been straining eagerly on the page with a look almost
approaching to anxiety, as is the case with most men of strong
feelings, when they receive written tidings from distant friends,
there was a smile upon his lip which showed that the contents were not
unsatisfactory. We may as well look over his shoulder, however, while
he stands there with the letter in his hand, and read the words that
it contains for ourselves. Thus, then, the epistle ran:--
"To the Earl of Gowrie, our dear Son, with love and affectionate
greeting:
"SON,--Your letter of the 16th of August, by the hands of a trusty
messenger, reached us with speed; and seeing that there are therein
contained things of weight, anent which your mind is disquieted till
you shall hear from us, I write at once to let you know the mind of
your granduncle and myself. Having proved yourself on all occasions
wise and prudent, even beyond your years, you do well to write freely
of your purposes to those who have your love and interest much at
heart, notwithstanding that you are now of an age both to judge and
act for yourself without control. We doubt not, my dear son, that you
show your discretion in the choice you have made, and that the lady
Julia, of whom you write, is worthy of all commendation. We might have
wished you in such a matter to choose one known to us all, and with
whose friends we might have dealt in the ordinary way; but, as you
have made your choice, and love beareth hardly contradiction, we are
glad to find that she is one of your own countrywomen, of suitable
rank, and well nurtured, and also that she hath resisted stoutly all
lures to defection in a land of idolatry and well nigh heathenism. It
is comfortable, too, to find that you are not so hurried on by rash
and intemperate affections as to propose to wed this lady at once, but
inclined rather to wait till she has been brought amongst your own
friends, and has sought, if not recovered, the lands which you say are
her due: not that we need heed much whether she come to you, my son,
with a rich dowry or not, so that the other qualities be suitable; but
we are glad to find that both you and she are inclined to act with
discretion rather than hasty passion. Thus you will understand that I
have conceived a good opinion both of her heart and her understanding,
not only by what you write, which might be warped by the love of a
young man, but by her own acts, which speak in her praise. You may,
therefore, kiss her for me, as her dear mother, and tell her that she
shall have under my roof the care and kindness which is shown to her
other children by your fond parent,
"DOROTHEA GOWRIE."
"_Post Scriptum_.--I trust that your coming will be speedy, for it is
now many years since mine eyes beheld my son. Sir John Hume marries
your sister Beatrice, who is now in attendance upon the Queen's
Majesty. I have written to tell him he hath my consent, and put this
letter within his in one packet, not knowing where you may be when the
messenger reaches Padua."
Without answering Sir John Hume, Gowrie gently took Julia in his arms,
and kissed her lips, saying, "I am commissioned, dear love, to give
you this kiss for one who is ready and well pleased to receive you as
a daughter."
"I wish dear Beatrice were here, with all my heart," said Sir John
Hume, "then such tokens might become the fashion.--In Heaven's name
what are you staring at, dearly beloved Rhind? Did you never hear of a
kiss being sent in a letter before? and if the Countess of Gowrie
chooses to do such duty to her fair future daughter-in-law by deputy,
not being able to perform it herself at a thousand miles' distance,
who could she choose better for the office than her own son?--But
come, Gowrie, your mad-pated fellow has told you doubtless that you
have black neighbours near; and you have now to choose whether you
will set out to-night or wait till morning. Look, there is a star
beginning to glimmer up there. The evening is warm and fair, and we
can reach Voghera before the gates close. What say you, fair lady?"
"Oh, let us go," answered Julia. "I shall not feel in safety till I
have left this land behind me."
"Come, then, let us to horse at once," said Gowrie. "We can go on with
some of the men; and the rest can follow with the baggage after.
Methinks they wont subject doublets and cloaks to the holy office, so
that we can leave them in safety."
The plan was no sooner proposed than executed. The host's bill was
paid, the horses saddled, and the three gentlemen of the party, with
Julia and the girl who had been hired to accompany her, set out just
as the sun had sunk below the horizon. The stars looked out clear and
bright upon their path, and with a glad heart Julia passed an old
tower, even then deserted, which marked the boundary of the
territories of Piacenza and Voghera, then, as now, under distinct and
separate rule. Her spirits rose; and though she had been somewhat
silent during the first few miles of the ride, she now questioned Sir
John Hume, who was on her right hand, regarding all he had seen at
Padua. He answered gaily and lightly, evading her questions, for he
did not like to tell her that the house which had been so long her
home had been completely pillaged on the day that she fled from Padua.
She soon saw that he was unwilling to satisfy her; and fancy filled up
but too truly the mere vague outline that he gave. With regard to her
poor old servant Tita, however, she was determined to hear more; and
there the young gentleman had less scruple in affording her every
information.
"Oh, as to dearly beloved Tita," he said, "she has done exceedingly
well. She fairly and boldly encountered and defeated all the old women
in black gowns that the university could send against her. She bullied
the professors, rated the inquisitor, and nearly scratched the eyes
out of the faces of the officers. She told old Martinelli to his
beard, that if people had not suspected him of unlawful studies he
never would have tried to cast the imputation upon others; and as to
her old lord and young lady, they had much less to do with evil
spirits than others she could mention, who, people said, kept books
written with blood, and used to raise up the image of a child out of a
pot of boiling water. The old fool got frightened out of his wits, and
made his exit from the house as fast as possible, not knowing what she
would charge him with next, and fearing that part of the storm which
he had helped to raise might fall upon himself. Every one after was
afraid to meddle with bold Tita, and she remained mistress of the
field. She is now very comfortably established in a small house by the
market-place, and is looked upon with great reverence as one of the
heroes of Padua."
"It is really strange how men can be so mad and foolish," said the
earl. "Spirits must be very weak and powerless to submit themselves to
the sway of feeble old men, or half-crazed old women."
"Or have a very strange taste in female beauty," rejoined Hume, "to
fall in love with wrinkles, gray hair, and more beard than is becoming
on a lady's chin; but these events promise to raise a grand scholastic
dispute in Padua, for already the parties are arraying themselves for
and against the existence of magic at all. Antonelli has announced a
lecture on the non-existence of magic, and when one of the doctors
hinted that such an opinion was heretical, he turned the tables upon
the persecutors, by giving the two parties the names of magicians and
anti-magicians, so that Martinelli and his faction are now universally
known by the title of the magicians, much to their horror and
confusion."
"But we have the warrant of Scripture," said Mr. Rhind, gravely, "for
asserting that magic has really existed. Balaam, the son of Balak,
when he was called to curse the children of Israel, distinctly spoke
of it as an art which he himself practised."
"Are you sure it was not Balaam's ass?" asked Sir John Hume, laughing;
"I am sure no one would practise it in the present day but an ass. I
don't know what they did then."
Mr. Rhind, however, though silenced, was not satisfied. He had
listened to the whole conversation with great attention; and combining
what he then heard with words which had at times dropped from both the
earl and Julia, he perceived the nature of the charge against her, and
felt sadly oppressed in mind thereby. It is true he had seen nothing
in her but beauty, sweetness, and rational devotion; he had discovered
that she always carried with her a Bible in the English tongue; but
still fully impressed, as most men were in his day, with a belief that
such a thing as magic really existed, he felt grieved and uneasy on
account of his pupil's long intimacy with Manucci, who, he now found,
had been accused of practising unlawful arts. He tried on the
following morning, by what he thought skilful questions, to extract
more information from Sir John Hume; but he was, by nature, so simple,
that Hume foiled him at every turn by a repartee, and the same night,
eager to hurry on towards Scotland by longer and more rapid journeys
than Julia could undertake, the young knight left his companions to
follow, and hastened on towards France, leaving Mr. Rhind to brood
over his own conclusions with bitterness and apprehension.