"SIR DUDLEY VILLARS"
The meeting between Sir Dudley, and his godmother, was warmly
affectionate. Nancy gazed in amazement, as she beheld him kiss the
old lady foreign fashion, on either wrinkled cheek. After one or
two ejaculations, and explanations, he was presented to her, and
wonderful to relate, neither fell short of her lofty expectations, nor
her chaperon's glowing description. Sir Dudley was slightly built;
admirably turned out; he had clear-cut features, wavy dark hair,--the
front locks picturesquely powdered with white;--his smile was almost
an embrace; whilst his eyes, which were dark, were the very saddest,
and most arresting, that Nancy had ever encountered.
But these tragic, heart-broken eyes, had no connection, with their
owner's real disposition, and feelings; they were merely a notable
family endowment, and had been for generations, a valuable asset in
the fortunes of the noble Casserini. It was whispered, that these same
eyes, had won vast estates, a ducal palace, and even,--but this is in
your ear,--a cardinal's hat! In the present instance, the eyes were
allied to an agreeable voice, a cultivated taste, and a captivating
personality. Indeed one enthusiastic friend, had been heard to speak of
Villars, as "a delicious fellow!" Delicious or otherwise, he was not
to the taste of various married men, and one or two nervous chaperons.
These, viewed him with no favour; but rather, as a shepherd beholds a
strange, and suspicious dog!
The visitor and Mrs. De Wolfe immediately embarked on an animated
conversation, an eager exchange of plans, and news, and Nancy,
after listening for some time to the sayings and doings of complete
strangers, made an excuse about dressing in good time, and left the
friends to enjoy a _tête-à-tête_. No sooner had the door closed upon
her, than Sir Dudley said:
"My dear Auntie Wolfe, where did you get hold of such a beautiful young
lamb? Is she the new companion you mentioned?"
The old lady nodded a complacent assent.
"You never were much given to companions, were you? I only recollect
two; unprepossessing elderly females. What an amazing change!"
"Yes, I couldn't stand either of those elderly females; one had such
decided views, and argued every question,--from the proper way to boil
an egg, to the age of the world. The other, had a maddening sniff, and
read all my letters. Still, an old woman cannot live entirely alone.
There are wet days, and long evenings! I want someone to read to me,
and play piquet. Nancy is pretty good for a beginner, but not like
you,--a foeman worthy of my steel!"
"Nancy! What a nice simple name," said Sir Dudley. "Miss Nancy has
lovely eyes; I admire their clear, crystal gaze of childlike innocence.
Do tell me _all_ about her?"
In a few short but pithy sentences, Sir Dudley was made acquainted with
the history of Miss Travers,--that is to say, as known to her chaperon.
"An orphan with tons of money, no undesirable relations, and a
truthful, affectionate, nature; dear Auntie Wolfe, allow me to offer
you my warmest congratulations! And how long do you suppose this
delightful alliance will last?"
"To the end of my days, if I could have my wish," was the prompt reply.
"The child is my right hand, and simply radiates happiness; however,
some odious man is sure to snatch her from me, and carry her off as
_his_ companion for life!"
"Yes," he assented, nodding his head, "I'm afraid your partnership
is doomed! A beauty, an heiress, and launched by Mrs. De Wolfe--your
chance of keeping her, is not worth the traditional button! But how you
will enjoy yourself in the meanwhile! You who are always so interested
in love affairs, and happy marriages."
"Well I give you my solemn promise, that I shall be in no hurry to
marry off Nancy."
"Has she had any love affairs, do you think?"
"No, indeed. Why, my dear Dudley, you've only to look at the girl's
face, to see that she has yet to experience the heart's awakening."
"_Dio mio_, and what a delightful task for some too lucky fellow!"
"Now look here, Dudley," and Mrs. De Wolfe suddenly sat erect, and
tapped his sleeve with her pince-nez. "No experiments if _you_
please,--no philandering. I'm not in the way of seeing the gay, and
gallant aspect of your character; you turn the good and steady side to
my old eyes,--but I have _ears_, and I have heard tales."
"No doubt you have, dearest Auntie Wolfe, but you know you should
never believe anything you hear, and only the half of what you see. I
grant you, I have amused myself, _pour passer le temps_, but only with
hardened, and accomplished flirts, who know how to play the game; never
with girls,--and I thought you barred girls yourself?"
"Yes, I do, the usual run, who giggle, and whisper, and have silly
secrets, and make faces at me behind my back. Now Nancy hasn't a secret
in the whole world; if she had, she couldn't keep it! Her life is
an open book, 'who runs may read.' A coffee plantation, an English
school, once more a coffee plantation; her father's death, a year's
slavery to an abominably selfish aunt; from this aunt she came to
me--and there's her history!"
"How old is she?"
"Past twenty, and in some ways, absurdly young for her age."
"And I am thirty-eight, and absurdly old for my years, so I think you
had better appoint me deputy-chaperon. Well now, I must be off to
dress! May I look in again after dinner?"
"To be sure," assented Mrs. De Wolfe, "come in and out, whenever you
please, just as you always do, and arrange to sit with us in the
restaurant. Don't let _Nancy_ make any difference!"
"All right, then, I won't! I've got a capital motor-boat; I'll take you
both on the lake, all day, and every day, and anywhere you like."
Sir Dudley Villars promptly installed himself as one of Mrs. De
Wolfe's party, whilst Antonio, his valet, enacted the part of
_cavaliere-servente_, to the two lady's-maids. He sat with them at
meals, entered their sitting-room, when so disposed--which was often;
played piquet, sang tender and emotional love songs in a melting tenor,
to Nancy's accompaniment, and was even suffered to smoke! He was
evidently attached to his godmother, and full of _petits soins_ on her
behalf. His manner to her was charming; that of a cheery, sometimes
teasing, and yet always devoted son! He went her errands, carried her
wraps, brought her flowers, books, and papers; also occasionally, his
letters from mutual friends; made a capital sketch of her for Nancy,
a sketch of Nancy for his godmother, and altogether lived up to his
reputation.
Mrs. Wynne, her daughter Flora, her fiancé--a young diplomatist on
leave from Rome--joined forces with Mrs. De Wolfe. A party of six, just
filled the motor-boat, and were admirably paired--two matrons, two
lovers, Nancy and her new friend. Sometimes the younger people, went
up and spent a long afternoon on the links above Menaggio; but as a
rule the days were devoted to picnics and excursions, about the lake.
Mrs. De Wolfe was anxious that Nancy should see all her old favourite
"beauty spots," and proved an active, and indefatigable chaperon, but
a long tiring day at Grave-dona, was too much for her seventy-four
years. Returning amid the late mists, she caught a severe chill, and
was confined to her room for one whole week; and as the Wynnes had
betaken themselves to Bellaggio, Nancy and Sir Dudley were abandoned to
a _tête-à-tête_!
The invalid would not suffer her young companion to sit what she
called "stuffing,--in a sick-room," and drove her forth to enjoy the
exquisite autumn weather; to walk, to boat, and to sketch,--and so it
came to pass, that Nancy and Sir Dudley--a rather striking pair--went
about together, to play golf, to visit old villas and lovely gardens,
or to climb the hills to well-known holy shrines,--also to flit around
the lake in the motor-boat; now to Como, now to Varenna,--in short,
wherever their fancy carried them!
Nancy had found old friends in Menaggio; the two Clovers (her
schoolfellows), and their belongings,--which included their parents
and an elder brother. They were eager for her company; she played golf
with them on several occasions, but somehow most of the shining hours
were claimed by Dudley Villars,--who pronounced the Clover family to
be "bourgeois," and the son,--who exhibited a fervid interest in Miss
Travers, "as a blundering lout, with a calf-like smile, and dull to the
verge of idiocy."
Dudley, to do him justice, was a delightful companion; so entertaining,
so thoughtful, always ready to fall in with the slightest whim; and
he did things so well! To Nancy his painting was a revelation and a
delight, his voice was sympathetic, and he told her many entrancing
tales, of his wanderings in the far-away East, and then his good
looks,--what a haunting face!
Sir Dudley's manner to his charming companion, had been partly that of
a kindly teacher, and comrade; tinged with an infusion of chivalrous
reverence.
Oh, how different to Teddy and Nicky, who never hurried to open a
door, or stand up, when she entered the room. Once or twice Nancy had
asked herself, if she was not growing to like this charming friend,
_too_ well? After all; he was no relation. Simple Nancy! And she could
not forget, that when he had gone to Milan for two or three days, she
had missed him even more than his godmother; and once or twice, when,
looking up suddenly, she had met his eyes, she found herself blushing
to her hair.
That he liked and admired her,--Nancy felt instinctively, and a
chilly little inward voice asked, if she was going to what is called
"fall in love?" She dismissed the idea with horror. Sir Dudley was
married, and had a wife living; she too was married, and had a husband,
somewhere--incredible as it seemed, even to her own thoughts. One
night, she took herself solemnly to task--sitting at her bedroom
window, looking down at the stars, reflected in the lake, she held an
inquiry. Dudley had often given her flowers; he had lately assumed an
attitude of exclusive protection and possession; once it had seemed to
her,--though it might have been imagination,--that he had pressed her
hand, as she alighted from the motor-boat. There must be no more of
_that_. What would her father have thought of his Nancy, if she gave
her heart to a married man?
* * * * *
Mrs. De Wolfe had recovered from her chill, and resumed her
responsibilities, but she no longer went on expeditions and
picnics,--contenting herself with going across to Bellaggio, to call
on friends, or to prowl about among the antiquity shops; whilst her
companion sketched in the villa gardens, or endeavoured to immortalize
the tall cypresses, above San Giovanni.
With the exception of one or two eloquent glances, and an involuntary
hand-pressure, Dudley's manner to his godmother's beautiful companion,
was admirably guarded. With the fear of his old friend's displeasure
before his eyes, it had been a case of what he mentally termed "paws
off," but how could any man under eighty years of age, withstand
such an exquisite creature? So simple and transparently innocent; so
warm-hearted and intelligent, and beyond and above all, what a lovely
vision of glorious youth! It was this, that enthralled the _blasé_
dilettante.
He had played the part of genial comrade,--for he knew instinctively
the sort of girl he had to deal with; how easy to alienate, and scare!
She had been informed that he was married, and her Irish spirit and
Irish chastity, were inscribed upon her exquisite lips. He and Nancy
had many talks, and interesting discussions, as they took their daily
stroll along the romantic thoroughfare, which leads from Cadenabbia
through and beyond Tremezzo. Mrs. De Wolfe frequently accompanied them,
and then, when half way, a half-hearted chaperon, sat down on a low
wall to rest, and there await their return.
Nancy, who always enjoyed the sound of her own voice, and an
appreciative listener, was neither shy, nor self-conscious; at a very
early period of their acquaintance, and with consummate ease, the
subtle man of the world, had made himself master of her simple history.
He enjoyed listening to her vivid descriptions of the Indian hills, and
to confidences as fresh, and pure as the dew of the dawn. He heard all
about her school-days, her father's money troubles, and his splendid
character. She spoke of the Corner boys, and Sir Dudley's old friend,
Mrs. Ffinch. Once and once only had she touched on the tragedy of her
bereavement,--when with averted face, and broken voice, she related
particulars of Travers' death.
"And what became of the fellow who missed the panther?" inquired
Villars, after a pause.
"I don't know; he is somewhere in India," she replied, almost under her
breath.
"Well, I suppose, he was ashamed to show his face." But to this remark
there was no reply.
Late one afternoon, Sir Dudley and his pupil,--having finished a sketch
of the Baptistery, at Lenno, crossed over in the boat to the Villa
Arconati,--which stands on its promontory half surrounded by water,
and embowered in shade. Here the pair sat on the edge of a low wall,
overlooking the lake, and carried on a lively discussion,--of which
Mrs. Ffinch was the subject. Nancy did gallant battle for her friend,
and patroness, and spoke with enthusiasm of her generosity and kindness
of heart.
"Of course I am not denying old Julia a few good qualities; I've known
her since I was a kid,"--and Sir Dudley unkindly added--"she's four
or five years older than I am.--I remember her in the nursery, a big,
overbearing girl, _very_ stingy with jam. In those days the Hillsides
were terribly hard up, and had a large family. Ju Lamerton was a
sensible young woman, with no romantic nonsense about her, and she made
room for her sisters, by marrying the biggest bore in the whole of
India."
"Well, at any rate, they seem quite happy."
"_Seem_," repeated Sir Dudley; "that's her cleverness; she manages him.
She manages everyone! She married off Emma and Mabel, and last time
she came home, got a lout of a brother, into a capital sinecure." Then
turning to look at Nancy, he added--"I wonder she didn't try her hand
on _you_,--but I suppose you were too young?"
Nancy felt herself colouring up to the roots of her hair, and carried
off the suggestion with a rather embarrassed laugh.
"I expect you had all the young planters on their knees, young as you
were? Come now, own up, strictly between ourselves! How many scalps did
you bring home?"
"Not one," she answered, with decision, "we were just good friends,
like you and I,--nothing more."
"I am delighted we are good friends," murmured Villars; and after this
sentence, there fell a strange and dreamy silence. The surrounding
scene was exquisite, the beauty of Italy's lake land, tinged with
a kind of roseate romance. Above them to the left, towered hills,
clothed with olive and chestnut woods; at their feet gently lapped the
jade-green water of the lake. The glow of a wonderful sunset touched
the quiet landscape, and the only sound that recalled one to a workaday
world, was the chime of the Angelus, stealing across from San Giovanni.
The stillness and solitude, had a compelling effect upon Villars;
turning to Nancy, he said abruptly, "I must speak! Here is the hour,
and the place! I want to tell you, that I have not had such a happy
time, as this last five weeks--for many a long, long year. Nancy, may
I call you Nancy?--everyone does, and Miss Travers sounds so formal!
I may, may I not?"--as Nancy made no reply, but nervously twisted a
rose between her fingers. He moved an inch or two nearer, and in a low,
seductive voice continued: "There is no one to object,--is there?"
"No one," she answered, raising her head, and meeting his burning dark
eyes, with a flash of pride. He gazed at her critically and in silence.
What a darling she was! From the very first he had been enthralled by
her high spirits, _entrain_, and beauty; here, he assured himself, was
the perfect treasure for which he had vainly sought; and in many and
far lands. He had made this discovery on former occasions,--but the
prize had eluded him, or proved a bitter disappointment. Close beside
him, twirling a red rose in her taper fingers, sat his one, and only
love.
If that devil Cassandra, would but divorce him, here was her
successor,--the future Lady Villars! But Cassandra, the most obstinate
and malignant of her sex, was adamant; hitherto, his appeals, prayers,
threats, and flagrant indiscretions had failed to move her. This was
her revenge; she refused to release him!
Something in this long and unusual silence, filled the girl with a
sense of vague uneasiness: and this uneasiness was not dispelled, when
her companion broke the long pause, with the startling question: "May I
kiss you, darling?" His voice was very humble and pleading, but there
was a smouldering fire, in his melancholy dark eyes.
"Certainly not," she answered sharply.
"But why?" urged Villars, moving still nearer, "since we are such
friends?"
"Because I should hate it," she declared decisively.
"_Une jeunesse sans amour, est comme un matin sans soleil_," he quoted.
"I suppose no man has ever touched those perfect lips?"
Nancy tossed the rose away, but made no reply: she was feeling
excessively uncomfortable.
"So you know nothing about it, darling little girl?" he went on. "No
one has ever yet drawn your soul through in one long kiss! Listen to
_me_, Nancy," and he made an effort to take her hand. "Won't you make
room for a very lonely fellow in your heart? You _would_, if you only
knew how miserable his life has been."
Nancy slipped down off the low wall, and stood erect, surveying her
companion with a heightened colour, and irrepressible tears glistening
in her eyes. She had received a tremendous shock, and felt a horrible
impression of degradation, and insecurity.
"Sir Dudley, please don't talk to me in this way. I," and she gulped
down an inclination to burst into tears, "I--I don't like it!"
Then with a desperate snatch at her ebbing self-possession, she added:
"Will you be so kind as to signal for the boat?"
"Horrified! frightened! affronted! easy to see _she's_ new to the
situation," he said to himself. "I must go slow, _chi va sano--va
lontano_. I've been a bit of an ass, but the sunset and the Angelus
were too much for me."
"You know I wouldn't offend you for the whole world," he murmured, as
in strained self-consciousness they awaited the boat. "Only forgive
me for this once! One never can tell. Most girls like admiration, and
kisses--I see you are different."
Nancy made no reply, but picked up her red Lugano umbrella, and got
into the boat, without a word.
"She has taken the little scene seriously," he said to himself, as he
looked at her set profile, and it was now his turn to be uneasy, and
alarmed! Supposing she were to go and lodge a long complaint with Aunty
De Wolfe? He must make his peace before they returned to the hotel.
Accordingly on their way there, with all the eloquence, cleverness,
and guile of a well-experienced diplomatist in emotion, he pleaded
with his companion, for forgiveness; his misery and regrets appeared
to be so acute, that they touched her sensitive feelings, and cooled
her indignation. How _could_ she withstand, the tears that stood in his
wonderful eyes?
Notwithstanding this patched up peace, Mrs. De Wolfe might have noticed
a certain constraint, between her young companions that evening, and
there was no singing,--but as it happened, the mind of their chaperon
was occupied with a recent interview, and the old lady was happily
unconscious of any cloud.