“WE’LL BIND YOU FAST IN SILKEN CORDS.”
Captain Hulbert was not selfish enough to plead for his personal
happiness in the midst of a household shadowed by the foreboding of a
great sorrow. Martin Disney’s face, as he looked at his wife in those
moments which too plainly marked the progress of decay, was in itself
enough to put a check upon a lover’s impatience. How could any man
plead for his own pleasure--for the roses and sunshine of life--in the
presence of that deep despair?
“He knows that he is doomed to lose her,” thought Hulbert; “knows it,
and yet tries to hope. I never saw such intense, unquestioning love.
One asks one’s self involuntarily about any woman--Is she worth it?”
And then he thought of Allegra, truthful and impulsive, strong as
steel, transparent as crystal. Yes, such a woman as that was worth the
whole of a man’s heart--worthy that a man should live or die for her.
But it seemed to him that to compare Isola with Allegra was to liken an
ash sapling to an oak.
He resigned himself to his disappointment, talked no more of Venice
and the starlit lagunes, the summer nights on the Lido, and quoted no
more of Buskin’s rhapsodies; but he came meekly day after day to join
in the family excursion, whatever it might be. He had enough and to
spare of ecclesiastical architecture and of the old masters during
those summer-like mornings and afternoons. He heard more than enough of
the mad Cæsars and the bad Cæsars, of wicked Empresses and of low-born
favourites, of despotism throned in the palace and murder waiting at
the gate, of tyranny drunken with power long abused, and treason on the
watch for the golden opportunity to change one profligate master for
another, ready to toss up for the new Cæsar, and to accept the basest
slave for master, would be but open the Imperial treasury wide enough
to the Prætorian’s rapacious hands.
“People gloat over these hoary old walls as if they would like to have
lived under Caligula,” said the sailor, with a touch of impatience,
when Father Rodwell had been expatiating upon a little bit of moulding
which decorated an imperial staircase.
“It would have been at least a picturesque time to have lived in,” said
Allegra. “Existence must have been a series of pictures by Alma Tadema.”
Captain Hulbert was startled out of his state of placid submission by
the intervention of a most unexpected ally.
It was one of the hottest days there had been since they came to Rome.
To cross the Piazza in front of St. Peter’s was like plunging into a
bath of molten gold; while to enter the great Basilica itself was like
going into an ice-house. Father Rodwell was not with them upon this
particular morning. They were a party of four, and a roomy landau had
been engaged to take them to the Church of St. Paul beyond the walls,
and thence to the tomb of Cecilia Metella. Isola and Allegra had made
pilgrimages to the spot before to-day. It was a drive they both loved,
a glimpse of the pastoral life outside the gates of the city, and a
place for ever associated with the poet whose verse was written in
their hearts.
They dawdled over a light luncheon of macaroni and Roman wine at a
_café_ near the great cold white church, and then they drove through
the sandy lanes in the heat of the afternoon, languid all of them, and
Isola paler and more weary-looking than she had been for some time. Her
husband watched her anxiously, and wanted to go back to Rome, lest the
drive should be too exhausting for her.
“No, no, I am not tired,” she answered impatiently. “I would much
rather go on. I want to see that grim old tower again,” and then she
quoted the familiar lines, dreamily, with a faint pleasure in their
music--
“Perchance she died in youth: it may be bowed
With woes far heavier than the ponderous tomb
That weighed upon her gentle dust.”
“Besides,” she added confusedly, “I want to have a little private
talk with Captain Hulbert, while Allegra is busy with her everlasting
memoranda in that dirty little sketchbook which is stuffed with the
pictures of the future. May I?”
She looked from her husband to Captain Hulbert pleadingly. The latter
was first to answer.
“I am at your service, Mrs. Disney; ready to be interrogated, or
lectured, or advised, whichever you like.”
“I am not going to do either of the three. I am going to ask you a
favour.”
“Consider that to ask is to be obeyed.”
They alighted in the road by the tomb a few minutes afterwards.
Allegra’s note-book was out immediately, a true artist’s book, crammed
with every conceivable form of artistic reminiscence.
“Go and talk,” she said, waving her hand to Isola and Hulbert; and then
she clambered up a bank opposite that tower of other days to get a
vantage ground for her sketch.
She had made a score of sketches on the same spot, but there were
always new details to jot down, new effects and ideas, on that vast
level which frames the grandeur of Rome. Yonder the long line of the
aqueduct; here the living beauty of broad-fronted oxen moving with
stately paces along the dusty way, the incarnation of strength and
majesty, patience and labour.
“Stay here and smoke your cigar, Martin,” said Isola, “while Captain
Hulbert and I go for a stroll.”
Her husband smiled at her tenderly, cheered by her unwonted
cheerfulness. His days and hours alternated between hope and despair.
This was a moment of hope.
“My dearest, you are full of mystery to-day,” he said, “and I am as
full of curiosity. But I can wait. Consider me a statue of patience
standing by the way-side, and take your time.”
She put her hand through Hulbert’s arm, and led him away from the other
two, sauntering slowly along beside the grassy bank.
“I want to talk about your wedding,” she said, as soon as they were out
of hearing. “When are you and Allegra going to be married?”
“My dear Mrs. Disney, you know that I pledged myself to wait a year
from the time of our engagement--a year from last Christmas--you must
remember. That was to be my probation.”
“Yes, I remember; but that is all foolishness--idle romance. Allegra
knows that you love her. I don’t think she could know it any better
after another half-year’s devotion on your part.”
“I don’t think she could know it better after another half century. I
know I could never love her more than I do now. I know I shall never
love her less.”
“I believe that you are good and true,” said Isola. “As true
and--almost--as good as he is”--with a backward glance at her husband.
“If I did not believe that I should not have thought of saying what I
am going to say.”
“I am honoured by your confidence in me.”
“I love Allegra too well to hazard her happiness. I know she loves
you--has never cared for any one else. She was heart-whole till she
saw you. She had no more thought of love, or lovers, than a child. I
want you to marry her soon, Captain Hulbert--very soon, before we leave
Rome. Would you not like to be married in Rome?”
“I would like to be married in Kamtchatka, or Nova Zembla--or the worst
of those places whose very names suggest uncomfortableness. There is no
dismallest corner of the earth which Allegra could not glorify and make
dear. But, as you suggest, Rome is classic--Rome is mediæval--Rome is
Roman Catholic. It would be a new sensation for a plain man like me to
be married in Rome. I suppose it could not be managed in St. Peter’s?”
“Oh, Captain Hulbert, I want you to be serious.”
“I am serious. Why, this is a matter of life or death to me. But I
pleaded so hard for a June wedding--and to no purpose. I talked with
the artfulness of the first Tempter--I tried to play upon her vanities
as an artist. All in vain!”
“Tell her that I have set my heart upon seeing her married,” said
Isola, in a low voice.
“Why, of course, you will see her married, whether she be married in
Rome or at Trelasco. That is no argument.”
“But it is; indeed it is. Tell her that, if I am to be at her wedding,
it must be soon, very soon. Life is so uncertain at best--and, although
I feel well and strong, sometimes--to-day, for instance--there are
other times when I think the end is nearer than even my doctor
suspects. And I know by his face that he does not give me a long lease
of life.”
“My dear Mrs. Disney, this is morbid. I am grieved to hear you talk in
such a strain.”
“Don’t notice that. Don’t say anything depressing to Allegra. I want
her to go off to her Venetian honeymoon very happily--with not one
cloud in her sky. She has been so good and dear to me. It would be
hard if I could not rejoice in her happiness. I have rejoiced in it
always; I shall take pleasure in it to the end of my life. It is the
one unclouded spot----.” She stopped with a troubled air. “Yes, it is a
happy fate--to have cared for one, and one only, and to be loved again.
Will you do what I ask you, Captain Hulbert? will you hurry on the
wedding--for my sake?”
“I would do anything difficult and unwelcome for your sake--how much
more will I hasten my own happiness--if I can. But Allegra is a
difficult personage--as firm as rock when she has once made up her
mind. And she has made up her mind to stay with you till you are quite
well and strong again.”
“She need not leave me for ever, because she marries. She can come
back to me after a long honeymoon. We can all meet in Switzerland in
August--if--if I go there with Martin, as he proposes.”
“Well, I will try to bend that stubborn will.”
“And you don’t mind having a quiet wedding, if she consents to a much
earlier date?”
“Mind? The quieter the better for me! I think a smart wedding is a
preventive of matrimony. That sounds like a bull. I will say I think
there are many wretched bachelors living in dismal chambers, and preyed
upon by landladies, who might have been happily married, but for the
fear of a smart wedding. We will have as quiet a wedding as you and
Disney can desire; but I should like Lostwithiel to be present. He is
my only near relation, and I don’t want to cut him on the happiest day
of my life. Why, Mrs. Disney, you are trembling! You have agitated
yourself about this business; you have talked too much for your
strength. Let me take you back to the carriage.”
“Presently--yes, yes. The heat overcame me for a moment, that’s all.
Would you mind not waiting for Lord Lostwithiel? I want the marriage to
be at once--directly--as soon as Father Rodwell can get it arranged.
And you don’t know where a telegram would reach your brother?”
“Indeed, I do not; but by speculating a few messages of inquiry I could
soon find out the whereabouts of the _Eurydice_.”
“Don’t wait for that. There would be delay. There must be delay if you
have to consult any distant person’s convenience. We are all here--you
and Allegra, and Martin and I--and Father Rodwell would like to marry
you. What do you want with anybody else?”
“Upon my word, I think you are right! Allegra is a creature of
impulse--where principle is not at stake. If I asked her to marry me
six weeks hence she would parley and make terms. If I ask her to marry
me in a few days--before we leave Rome--she may consent. Have you
talked to your husband? Is he of your opinion?”
“I have said nothing to him; but I know he would be pleased to see you
and Allegra bound together for life.”
“I will talk to him this afternoon. One can get everything one wants
in Rome, I believe, from a papal dispensation down to an English
solicitor. If we can but rattle through some kind of marriage
settlement to your husband’s satisfaction we can be married on the
earliest day to which my darling will consent. God bless you, Mrs.
Disney, for your unselfish thought of other people’s happiness! You are
not like most invalids, who would let a sister languish in lifelong
spinsterhood rather than lose her as a nurse. God grant that your
unselfishness may be recompensed by speedy recovery!”
“There will be a weight off my mind when you and Allegra are married,”
said Isola, gravely.
They walked slowly back to the spot where they had left their
companions. A pair of oxen, with an empty cart, were standing in
the road below the tomb, their driver lounging across the rough
vehicle--man and beasts motionless as marble. Allegra sat on a hillock
opposite, sketching the group. She had bribed the man to draw up for a
brief halt while she made her sketch. The massive heads were drooping
under the afternoon sun; the tawny and cream-hued coats were stained
with dust and purpled with the sweat of patient labour. The creatures
looked as gracious and as wise as if they had been gods in disguise.
“Now, Allegra,” said her brother, emptying the ashes out of his pipe,
“are you ready to go home?”
“Yes, I have just jotted down what will serve to remind me of those
splendid beasts; but I should like to have them standing there all
day, so that I could paint them seriously. They are the finest models
I have seen in Rome. Have you two quite finished your secrets and
mysteries?” she asked, smiling at Isola, who was looking brighter than
usual.
“Yes; I have said all I had to say, and have been answered as I wished
to be answered. I shall go home very happy.”
“That’s a good hearing,” said Disney, as he helped her into the landau.
Allegra had talked of wanting to revisit Caracalla’s Baths, a wish
of which Isola reminded her as they drove back to the city, along
the Appian Way: whereupon Captain Hulbert suggested that he and his
sweetheart should stop to explore the ruins, while Disney and Isola
went home.
Allegra blushed and consented, always a little shy at being alone with
her lover, especially since he had pleaded so earnestly for a summer
honeymoon.
“Mrs. Disney, your right place in Rome would be the Embassy,” murmured
Hulbert as he shut the carriage door; “you are a born diplomatist.”
“What makes my dearest look so pleased and happy this afternoon?” asked
Disney, as he changed to the seat beside his wife.
“I am glad because I think Captain Hulbert will persuade Allegra to
marry him before we leave Rome. I begged him to hasten their marriage.
That was my mystery, Martin. That was what he and I were talking about.”
“But why wish to hasten matters, dear? They are very happy as it
is--and a year is not a long engagement.”
“Too long for me, Martin. I want to see her happy--I want to see them
married before----”
“Before what, dear love?” he asked tenderly.
“Before we leave Rome.”
“That would be very short work. We leave in a fortnight. The weather
will be growing too hot for you if we linger later.”
“Yes, but everything can be settled in less time than that. Ask Father
Rodwell. He knows Rome so well that he can help you to arrange all
details.”
“I thought that every young woman required at least six months for the
preparation of her trousseau?”
“Not such a girl as Allegra. She is always well dressed, and her
wardrobe is the perfection of neatness--but she is not the kind of girl
to make a fuss about her clothes. I don’t think the trousseau will
create any difficulty.”
“And when she is gone, what will you do without your devoted companion?
Who will nurse you and take care of you?”
“Löttchen, or any other servant,” she answered, with a kind of weary
indifference. “It would be very hard if my bad health should stand in
the way of Allegra’s happiness. So long as you will stay with me and be
kind to me, Martin, I need no one else.”
Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she turned from him, pretending
to be interested in the convent walls on the edge of the hill below
which they were driving.
“So long as I stay with you! My darling, do you think business or
pleasure, or any claim in this world, will ever take me from you any
more? All your hours are precious to me, Isola. I hardly live when I am
away from you. Wherever your doctor may send you, or your own fancy may
lead you, I shall go with you, unhesitatingly--without one regret for
anything I leave behind.”
“Don’t say these things,” she cried suddenly, with a choking sob; “you
are too good to me. There are times when I can’t bear it.”