(MISS AGNES LOCKWOOD TO MRS. FERRARI)
“I promised to give you some account, dear Emily, of the marriage of
Mr. Arthur Barville and Miss Haldane. It took place ten days since. But
I have had so many things to look after in the absence of the master
and mistress of this house, that I am only able to write to you to-day.
“The invitations to the wedding were limited to members of the families
on either side, in consideration of the ill health of Miss Haldane’s
aunt. On the side of the Montbarry family, there were present, besides
Lord and Lady Montbarry, Sir Theodore and Lady Barville; Mrs. Norbury
(whom you may remember as his lordship’s second sister); and Mr.
Francis Westwick, and Mr. Henry Westwick. The three children and I
attended the ceremony as bridesmaids. We were joined by two young
ladies, cousins of the bride and very agreeable girls. Our dresses were
white, trimmed with green in honour of Ireland; and we each had a
handsome gold bracelet given to us as a present from the bridegroom. If
you add to the persons whom I have already mentioned, the elder members
of Mrs. Carbury’s family, and the old servants in both
houses—privileged to drink the healths of the married pair at the lower
end of the room—you will have the list of the company at the
wedding-breakfast complete.
“The weather was perfect, and the ceremony (with music) was beautifully
performed. As for the bride, no words can describe how lovely she
looked, or how well she went through it all. We were very merry at the
breakfast, and the speeches went off on the whole quite well enough.
The last speech, before the party broke up, was made by Mr. Henry
Westwick, and was the best of all. He offered a happy suggestion, at
the end, which has produced a very unexpected change in my life here.
“As well as I remember, he concluded in these words:—‘On one point, we
are all agreed—we are sorry that the parting hour is near, and we
should be glad to meet again. Why should we not meet again? This is the
autumn time of the year; we are most of us leaving home for the
holidays. What do you say (if you have no engagements that will prevent
it) to joining our young married friends before the close of their
tour, and renewing the social success of this delightful breakfast by
another festival in honour of the honeymoon? The bride and bridegroom
are going to Germany and the Tyrol, on their way to Italy. I propose
that we allow them a month to themselves, and that we arrange to meet
them afterwards in the North of Italy—say at Venice.’
“This proposal was received with great applause, which was changed into
shouts of laughter by no less a person than my dear old nurse. The
moment Mr. Westwick pronounced the word ‘Venice,’ she started up among
the servants at the lower end of the room, and called out at the top of
her voice, ‘Go to our hotel, ladies and gentlemen! We get six per cent.
on our money already; and if you will only crowd the place and call for
the best of everything, it will be ten per cent. in our pockets in no
time. Ask Master Henry!’
“Appealed to in this irresistible manner, Mr. Westwick had no choice
but to explain that he was concerned as a shareholder in a new Hotel
Company at Venice, and that he had invested a small sum of money for
the nurse (not very considerately, as I think) in the speculation.
Hearing this, the company, by way of humouring the joke, drank a new
toast:—Success to the nurse’s hotel, and a speedy rise in the dividend!
“When the conversation returned in due time to the more serious
question of the proposed meeting at Venice, difficulties began to
present themselves, caused of course by invitations for the autumn
which many of the guests had already accepted. Only two members of Mrs.
Carbury’s family were at liberty to keep the proposed appointment. On
our side we were more at leisure to do as we pleased. Mr. Henry
Westwick decided to go to Venice in advance of the rest, to test the
accommodation of the new hotel on the opening day. Mrs. Norbury and Mr.
Francis Westwick volunteered to follow him; and, after some persuasion,
Lord and Lady Montbarry consented to a species of compromise. His
lordship could not conveniently spare time enough for the journey to
Venice, but he and Lady Montbarry arranged to accompany Mrs. Norbury
and Mr. Francis Westwick as far on their way to Italy as Paris. Five
days since, they took their departure to meet their travelling
companions in London; leaving me here in charge of the three dear
children. They begged hard, of course, to be taken with papa and mamma.
But it was thought better not to interrupt the progress of their
education, and not to expose them (especially the two younger girls) to
the fatigues of travelling.
“I have had a charming letter from the bride, this morning, dated
Cologne. You cannot think how artlessly and prettily she assures me of
her happiness. Some people, as they say in Ireland, are born to good
luck—and I think Arthur Barville is one of them.
“When you next write, I hope to hear that you are in better health and
spirits, and that you continue to like your employment. Believe me,
sincerely your friend,—A. L.”
Agnes had just closed and directed her letter, when the eldest of her
three pupils entered the room with the startling announcement that Lord
Montbarry’s travelling-servant had arrived from Paris! Alarmed by the
idea that some misfortune had happened, she ran out to meet the man in
the hall. Her face told him how seriously he had frightened her, before
she could speak. “There’s nothing wrong, Miss,” he hastened to say. “My
lord and my lady are enjoying themselves at Paris. They only want you
and the young ladies to be with them.” Saying these amazing words, he
handed to Agnes a letter from Lady Montbarry.
“Dearest Agnes,” (she read), “I am so charmed with the delightful
change in my life—it is six years, remember, since I last travelled on
the Continent—that I have exerted all my fascinations to persuade Lord
Montbarry to go on to Venice. And, what is more to the purpose, I have
actually succeeded! He has just gone to his room to write the necessary
letters of excuse in time for the post to England. May you have as good
a husband, my dear, when your time comes! In the mean while, the one
thing wanting now to make my happiness complete, is to have you and the
darling children with us. Montbarry is just as miserable without them
as I am—though he doesn’t confess it so freely. You will have no
difficulties to trouble you. Louis will deliver these hurried lines,
and will take care of you on the journey to Paris. Kiss the children
for me a thousand times—and never mind their education for the present!
Pack up instantly, my dear, and I will be fonder of you than ever. Your
affectionate friend, Adela Montbarry.”
Agnes folded up the letter; and, feeling the need of composing herself,
took refuge for a few minutes in her own room.
Her first natural sensations of surprise and excitement at the prospect
of going to Venice were succeeded by impressions of a less agreeable
kind. With the recovery of her customary composure came the unwelcome
remembrance of the parting words spoken to her by Montbarry’s
widow:—“We shall meet again—here in England, or there in Venice where
my husband died—and meet for the last time.”
It was an odd coincidence, to say the least of it, that the march of
events should be unexpectedly taking Agnes to Venice, after those words
had been spoken! Was the woman of the mysterious warnings and the wild
black eyes still thousands of miles away in America? Or was the march
of events taking her unexpectedly, too, on the journey to Venice? Agnes
started out of her chair, ashamed of even the momentary concession to
superstition which was implied by the mere presence of such questions
as these in her mind.
She rang the bell, and sent for her little pupils, and announced their
approaching departure to the household. The noisy delight of the
children, the inspiriting effort of packing up in a hurry, roused all
her energies. She dismissed her own absurd misgivings from
consideration, with the contempt that they deserved. She worked as only
women can work, when their hearts are in what they do. The travellers
reached Dublin that day, in time for the boat to England. Two days
later, they were with Lord and Lady Montbarry at Paris.
THE FOURTH PART