LIMBURG.
Lawrence did talk with Mrs. Copley; and the result of the discussion
was that the decision and management of their movements was finally
made over to him. Whether it happened by design or not, the good lady's
head was quite confused among the different plans suggested; she could
understand nothing of it, she said; and so it all fell into Lawrence's
hand. I think that was what he wanted, and that he had views of his own
to gratify; for Dolly, who had been engaged with other matters this
time, expressed some surprise a day or two after they set out, at
finding herself again in Weimar.
"Going back the way we came?" she cried.
"Only for a little distance--a few stages," explained Lawrence; "after
that it will be all new."
Dolly did not much care, nor know enough to correct him if he was going
wrong; she gave herself up to hopeful enjoyment of the constantly
varying new scenes and sights. Mrs. Copley, on the contrary, seemed
able to enjoy nothing beyond the shortening of the distance between her
and Venice. If she had known how much longer than was necessary
Lawrence had made it!
So it happened that they were going one day down a pleasant road which
led along a river valley, when an exclamation from Dolly roused her
mother out of a half nap. "What is it?" she asked.
"Mother, such a beautiful, beautiful old church! Look--see how it sits
up there grandly on the rock."
"Very inconvenient, I should think," said Mrs. Copley, giving a glance
out of the carriage window. "I shouldn't think people would like to
mount up there often."
"I believe," said Lawrence, also looking out now, "that must be a
famous old church--isn't this Limburg?--yes. It is the cathedral at
Limburg; a very fine specimen of its style, Miss Dolly, they say."
"What is the style? it's beautiful! Gothic?"
"No,--aw--not exactly. I'm not learned myself, really, in such matters.
I hardly know a good thing when I see it--never studied antiquities,
you know; but this is said, I know, to be a very good thing."
"How old? It does not look antiquated."
"Oh, it has been repaired and restored. But it is not Gothic, so it
dates further back; what they call the Transition style."
"It is very noble," said Dolly. "Is it as good inside as outside?"
"Don't know, I declare; I suppose so. We might go in and see; let the
horses feed and Mrs. Copley take a rest."
This proposition was received with such joy by Dolly that it was at
once acted upon. The party sought out an inn, bespoke some luncheon,
and arranged for Mrs. Copley's repose. But chancing to hear from
Lawrence that the treasures of art and value in the church repositories
were both rich and rare, she gave up the promised nap and joined the
party who went to the dome. After the Dresden Green vaults, she said,
she supposed nothing new could be found; but she would go and see. So
they went all together. If Lawrence had guessed to what this chance
visit would lead! But that is precisely what people can never know.
Dolly was in a condition of growing delight, which every step
increased. Before the great front of the cathedral she stood still and
looked up, while Rupert and Mrs. Copley turned their backs and gazed
out upon the wide country view. Lawrence, as usual when he could,
attended upon Dolly.
"I did not know you were so fond of _this_ kind of thing," he remarked,
seeing a little enviously her bright, interested eyes.
"It lifts me almost off my feet!" said Dolly. "My soul don't seem big
enough to take it all in. How grand, how grand!--Whose statues are
those?"
"On each side?" said Lawrence, who had been collecting information.
"That on the one hand is Heinrich von Isenburg, the founder; and the
other is the architect, but nobody knows his name. It is lost. St.
George is on the top there."
"Well," said Dolly, "he is just as well off as if it hadn't been lost!"
"Who? the architect? How do you make that out? He loses all the glory."
"How does he lose it? Do you think," said Dolly, smiling, "he would
care, in the other world, to know that you and I liked his work?"
"The other world!" said St. Leger.
"You believe in it, don't you?"
"Yes, certainly; but you speak as if"----
"As if I believed in it!" said Dolly merrily. "You speak as if you
didn't."
"I do, I assure you; but what is fame then?"
"Nothing at all," said Dolly.--"Just nothing at all; if you mean
people's admiration or applause given when we have gone beyond reach of
it."
"Beyond reach of it!" said Lawrence, echoing her words again. "Miss
Dolly, do you think it is no use to have one's name honoured by all the
world for ages after we have lived?"
"Very good for the world," said Dolly, with a spice of amusement
visible again.
"And nothing to the man?"
"What should it be to the man?" said Dolly, seriously enough now. "Mr.
St. Leger, when a man has got beyond this world with its little cares
and interests, there will be just one question for him,--whether he has
done what God put him here to do; and there will be just one word of
praise that he will care about,--the 'Well done!'--if he may have
it,--from those lips."
Dolly began quietly, but her colour flushed and her lip trembled as she
went on, and her eye sparkled through a sudden veil of tears. Lawrence
was silenced by admiration, and almost forgot what they were talking
about.
"But don't you think," he began again, as Dolly moved towards the
church door, "that the one thing--I mean, the praise here,--will be a
sort of guaranty for the praise there?"
"No," said Dolly. "That which is highly esteemed among men is
abomination in the sight of God--often, often." She pushed open the
door and went in. Only a little way in; there she stood still, arrested
by all the glory and the beauty that met her eye. The nobleness of
form, the wealth of colour, the multiplied richness of both, almost
bewildered her at first entering. Pillars, arches, vaultings, niches,
galleries, arcades--a wilderness of harmonised form; and every panel
and fair space filled with painting. She could not see details yet; she
was lost in the greatness of the whole.
"Whom has Mrs. Copley picked up?" asked Lawrence in an undertone. After
all, if the architect's posthumous fame had depended on him, it would
not have been worth much effort. Mrs. Copley, it may be mentioned, had
passed on while Dolly and St. Leger had stood talking outside; and now
she was seen in the distance the centre of a group of lively talkers;
at least there was one lady who was free to exercise her gifts in that
way. Lawrence and Dolly slowly advanced, even Dolly's attention taken
for a moment from the church by this extraordinary combination. Yes,
Mrs. Copley had found acquaintances. The talker was a lady of about her
own age; a gentleman stood near, a little behind was a younger lady,
while Rupert balanced the group on the other side.
"There's something uncommon over yonder," whispered Lawrence. "Do you
see that blond girl? not blond neither, for her hair isn't; but what an
exquisite colour!--and magnificent figure. Do you know her?"
"No," said Dolly,--"I think not. Yet I do. Who can it be? I do not know
the one talking to mother."
"And this is she?" the elder lady was saying as Dolly now came up,
looking at her with a smiling face. "It's quite delightful to meet
friends in the midst of a wilderness so; like the print of a man's foot
on the sands in a desert; for really, in the midst of strange people
one feels cast away. She's handsomer than you were, Mrs. Copley. My
dear, do you know your old schoolfellow?"
"Christina Thayer!" exclaimed Dolly, as the other young lady came
forward; and there was a joyful recognition on both sides.
"Who is your friend?" Mrs. Thayer next went on. "Won't you introduce
him?--St. Leger? Don't I know your father? Ernest Singleton St.
Leger?--Yes! Why, he was a great beau of mine once, a good while ago,
you know," she added, nodding. "You might not think it, but he was. Oh,
I know him very well; I know him like a book. You must be my friend.
Christina, this is Mr. St. Leger; my old friend's son.--Mr. Thayer."
Mr. Thayer was nothing remarkable. But Christina had fulfilled the
promise of her girlhood, and developed into a magnificent beauty. Her
skin showed the richest, clear, creamy white tints, upon which in her
cheeks and lips the carmine lay like rose leaves. Her hair was light
brown and abundant, features regular, eyes sweet; she was one of those
fair, full, stately, placid Saxon types of beauty, which are not very
common in America and remarkable anywhere. Her figure was roundly and
finely developed, rather stately and slow moving; which characteristic
harmonised with all the rest of her. The two girls were as unlike each
other as possible. It amused and half fascinated Lawrence to watch the
contrast. It seemed to be noon of a summer day in the soul of
Christina, a still breadth of light without shadow; there was a murmur
of content in her voice when she spoke, and a ripple of content in her
laugh when she laughed. But the light quivered on Dolly's lip, and
gleamed and sparkled in her brown eyes, and light and shadow could flit
over her face with quick change; they did so now.
Meanwhile people had forgotten the old cathedral. Christina seemed
unaffectedly glad at the meeting with her friend of the school days.
"I'm so delighted," she said, drawing Dolly a little apart. "Where are
you? where do you come from, I mean? How come you to be here?"
"We come from Dresden; we are on our way"----
"You are living in London, aren't you? I heard that. It's too good to
meet you so! for Europe is full of people, no doubt, but there are very
few that I care for. Oh, tell me where you are going?"
"Venice first."
"And further south? you are going on into Italy?"
"Yes, I think so."
"That's delightful. Oh, there's nothing like Italy! It is not your
wedding journey, Dolly?"--with a glance at the very handsome young man
who was standing in waiting a few paces off.
"What are you thinking of!" cried Dolly. "Christina, we are travelling
for mother's health."
"Oh, well, I didn't suppose it; but it might be, you know; it will be,
before you know it. It isn't _mine_, either; though it only wants two
things of it. Oh, I want to tell you all about myself, Dolly, and I
want to show you somebody; I have got somebody to show, you see. You
will come and make us a visit, will you not? Oh, you must! I must have
you."
"You said it wanted only _two things_ of being your wedding journey?
What things?"
"The presence of the gentleman, and the performance of the ceremony."
And as Christina said it, a delicate peach-blossom bloom ripened in her
cheeks; you could hardly say that she blushed. "Oh, the gentleman is
somewhere, though he is not here," she went on, with that ripple of
laughter; "and the ceremony is somewhere in the distance, too. I want
you to see him, Dolly. I am proud of him. I think everything in the
world of him."
"I suppose I may know his name?"
"Christina," cried Mrs. Thayer, "where are you? My dear, we cannot
stand here and talk all the afternoon; our friends have got to see the
church. Isn't it a delicious old place? Just go round and examine
things; I could stay here for ever. Every little place where there is
room for it is filled with the quaintest, queerest, charmingest
paintings. Where there is room for it, there is a group; and where
there is not a group, there is an apostle or a saint; and where there
is not room for that, there is something else, which this
unintelligible old guide will explain to you. And think--for years and
years it has held the richest collection--oh, just wait and see! it is
better than the church itself. My dear, the riches of its treasures are
incalculable. Fancy, a mitre, a bishop's mitre, you know, so heavy with
precious stones that the good man cannot bear it on his head but a few
minutes; over three thousand pearls and precious stones in it; and the
work, oh, the work of it is wonderful! just in the finest
Renaissance"----
"We have just come from the Green vaults at Dresden," put in Mrs.
Copley. "I suppose that goes ahead of everything else."
"Oh, my dear, I don't know; I don't see how anything can be superior to
the show here. Is Mr. St. Leger fond of art?"
"Fonder of nature," Mr. St. Leger confesses with a bow.
"Nature,--well, come to see us at Naples. We have got a villa not far
from there--you'll _all_ come and stay with us. Oh, we cannot let you
off; it is such a thing to meet with one's own people from home. You
will certainly want to see us, and we shall want to see you. Venice, oh
yes, after you have seen Venice, and then we shall be at home again; we
just set off on this journey to use up the time until the 'Red Chief'
could come to Naples. We are going back soon, and we'll be all ready to
welcome you. And Mr. St. Leger, of course. Mr. St. Leger, I could tell
you a great deal about your father. He and I flirted dreadfully once;
and, you know, if flirting is _properly_ carried on, one always has a
little sneaking kindness for the people one has flirted with."
"No more than that?" said St. Leger with a polite smile.
"Why, what would you have? after one has grown old, you know. You would
not have me in love with him! Here is my husband and my daughter. Don't
you have a kindness for the people you flirt with?"
"I must not say anything against flirting, in the present company"----
Lawrence began.
"No, of course you mustn't. We all flirt, at a certain age. How are
young people to get acquainted with one another and find out what they
would like? You never buy cheese without tasting it, you know, not in
England. Just as well call things by their right names. I don't think
anybody ought to deny flirting; it's nature; we must do it. Christina
flirts, I know, in the most innocent way, with everybody; not as I did;
she has her own style; and your daughter does it too, Mrs. Copley. I
can see it in her eyes. Ah me, I wish I was young again! And what a
place to flirt in such an old church is!"
"O mamma!" came from Christina.
"Very queer taste, I should say," remarked Mrs. Copley.
"It isn't taste; it is combination of circumstances," Mrs. Thayer,
smiling, went on. "You see if I don't say true. My dear, such a place
as this is full of romance, full! Just think of the people that have
been married here; why, the first church was built here in 814; imagine
that!"
"Enough to keep one from flirting for ever," said Dolly, on whom the
lady's eye fell as she ended her sentence.
"Just go in and see those jewels and hear the stories," said Mrs.
Thayer, nodding at her. "That old woman will tell you stories enough,
if you can understand her; Christina had to translate for me; but, my
dear, there's a story there fit to break your heart; about a blood
jasper. It is carved; Mr. Thayer says the carving is very fine, and I
suppose it is; but all I thought of was the story. My dear, the stone
is all spotted with dark stains, and they are said to be the stains of
heart's blood. Oh, it is as tragical as can be. You see, the carver, or
stone-cutter,--the young man who did the work,--loved his master's
daughter--it's a very romantic story--and she"----
"Flirted?" suggested St. Leger.
"Well, I am afraid she did; but it is the old course of things; her
father thought she might look higher, you know, and she _did;_ married
the richest nobleman in Verona; and the young man had been promised her
if he did his work well, and the work is magnificently done; but he was
cheated; and he drove a sharp little knife into his heart. Christina,
what was the old master's name?"
"I forget, mamma."
"You ought not to forget; you will want to tell the story. Of course
_I_ have forgotten; I did not understand it at the time, and I never
remember anything besides; but he was very famous, and everybody wanted
the things he did, and he could not execute all the commissions he got;
and this young man was his best favourite pupil."
"How came the stains upon the stone?" asked Lawrence. "Did it bleed for
sympathy?"
"I don't know; I have forgotten. Oh yes! the stone was in his hand, you
know."
"And it was sympathy?" said Lawrence quite gravely, though Dolly could
not keep her lips in order.
"No, it was the blood. Go in and you'll see it, and all the rest. And
there---- Where are you going? to Venice? We are going on to Cologne
and then back to Rome. We shall meet in Rome? You will stay in Venice
for a few weeks, and then be in Rome about Christmas; and then we will
make arrangements for a visit from you all. Oh yes, we must have you
all."
Lawrence accompanied the lady to the door, and Christina following with
Dolly earnestly begged for the meeting in Rome, and that Dolly would
spend Christmas with her. "I have so much to tell you," she said; "and
my--the gentleman I spoke of--will meet us in Rome; and he will spend
Christmas with us; and I want you to see him. I admire Mr. St. Leger,
very much!" she added in a confidential whisper.
"Mr. St. Leger is nothing to me," said Dolly steadily, looking in her
friend's face. "He is father's secretary, and is taking care of us till
my father can come."
"Oh, well, if he is not anything to you _now_, perhaps--you never know
what will be," said Christina. "He is very handsome! Don't you like
him? I long to know how you will like--Mr. Rayner."
"Who is he?" said Dolly, by way of saying something.
"Didn't I tell yon? He is first officer on board the 'Red Chief,' one
of our finest vessels of war; it is in the Mediterranean now; and we
expect him to come to us at Christmas. Manage to be at Rome then, do,
dear; and afterwards you must all come and make us a visit at our
villa, near Naples, and we'll show you everything."
"Christina," said Mrs. Thayer, when she and her daughter and her
husband were safe in the privacy of their carriage, "that is a son of
the rich English banker, St. Leger; they are _very_ rich. We must be
polite to him."
"You are polite to everybody, mamma."
"But _you_ must be polite to him."
"I'll try, mamma--if you wish it."
"I wish it, of course. You never know how useful such an acquaintance
may be to you. Is he engaged to that girl?"
"I think not, mamma. She says not."
"That don't prove anything, though."
"Yes, it does, with her. Dolly Copley was always downright--not like
the rest."
"Every girl thinks it is fair to fib about her lovers. However, I
thought _he_ looked at you, Christina, not exactly as if he were a
bound man."
"He is too late," said the girl carelessly. "I am a bound woman."
"Well, be civil to him," said her mother. "You never know what people
may do."
"I don't care, mamma. Mr. St. Leger's doings are of no importance to
me."
Mrs. Thayer was silent now; and her husband remarked that Mr. St. Leger
could not do better than pick up that pretty, wise-eyed little girl.
"Wise-eyed! she is that, isn't she?" cried Christina. "She always was.
She is grown up wonderfully pretty."
"She is no more to be compared to you, than--well, never mind," said
Mrs. Thayer. "I hope we shall see more of them at Christmas. Talk of
eyes,--Mr. St. Leger's eyes are beautiful. Did you notice them?"
Dolly on her side had seen the party descend the rocks, looking after
them with an odd feeling or mixture of feelings. The meeting with her
school friend had brought up sudden contrasts never so sharply
presented to her before. The gay carelessness of those old times, the
warm shelter of her Aunt Hal's home, the absolute trust in her father
and mother,--where was all that now? Dolly saw Christina's placid
features and secure gaiety, saw her surrounded and sheltered by her
parents' arms, strong to guard and defend her; and she seemed to
herself lonely. It fell to her to guard and defend her mother; and her
father? what was he about?--There swept over her an exceeding bitter
cry of desolateness, unuttered, but as it were the cry of her whole
soul; with again that sting of pain which seemed unendurable, how can a
father let his child be ashamed of him! She turned away that St. Leger
might not see her face; she felt it was terribly grave; and betook
herself now to the examination of the church.
And the still beauty and loftiness of the place wrought upon her by and
by with a strange effect. Wandering along among pillars and galleries
and arcades, where saints and apostles and martyrs looked down upon her
as out of past ages, she seemed to be surrounded by a "great cloud of
witnesses." They looked down upon her with grave, high sympathy, or
they looked up with grave, high love and trust; they testified to work
done and dangers met, and suffering borne, for Christ,--and to the
glory awaiting them, and to which they then looked forward, and which
now they had been enjoying--how long? What mattered the little troubled
human day, so that heaven's long sunshine set in at the end of it? And
that sun "shall no more go down." Dolly roved on and on, going from one
to another sometimes lovely sometimes stern old image; and gradually
she forgot the nineteenth century, and dropped back into the past, and
so came to take a distant and impartial view of herself and her own
life; getting a better standard by which to measure the one and
regulate the other. She too could live and work for Christ. What though
the work were different and less noteworthy; what matter, so that she
were doing what He gave her to do? Not to make a noise in the world,
either by preaching or dying; not to bear persecution; just to live
true and shine, to comfort and cheer her mother, to reclaim and save
her father, to trust and be glad! Yes, less than that latter would not
do full honour to her Master or His truth; and so much as that He would
surely help her to attain. Dolly wandered about the cathedral, and
mused, and prayed, and grew quiet and strong, she thought; while her
mother was viewing the church treasures with Mr. St. Leger, Dolly
excused herself, preferring the church.
"Dolly, Dolly," said Mrs. Copley when at last she came away, "you don't
know what you have lost."
"It is not so much as I have gained, mother."
"I'm glad we have seen it, Mr. St. Leger; and I'm glad we have done
with it! I don't want to see any more sights till we get to Venice.
Where are the Thayers going, Dolly?"
"To Cologne, mother, and to Nice and Mentone, they said."
"I wish they were coming to Venice. How fat Christina has grown!"
"O mother! She is a regular beauty--she could not do with less flesh;
she ought not to lose an ounce of it. She is not fat. She is perfect.
Is she not, Mr. St. Leger?"
Lawrence assented that Miss Thayer had the symmetry of a beautiful
statue.
"Too fat," said Mrs. Copley. "If she is a statue now, what will she be
by and by? I don't like that sort of beauties. Her face wants life."
"It does not want sweetness," said Lawrence. "It is a very attractive
face."
"I am glad we stopped here, if it was only for the meeting them," said
Mrs. Copley. "But I can't see how you could miss all those diamonds and
gold and silver things, Dolly. They were just wonderful."
"All the Green vaults did not give me the pleasure this old church did,
mother."