A WARNING
Among Mrs. De Wolfe's friends at Bellaggio, was a certain lady, known
to her intimates as "Sally Horne," a well endowed, unencumbered widow
of sixty; her daughter was married to an Indian official, her son was
quartered in Cairo,--and her London house was let! She and her maid
were staying at the "Victoria," where she had many acquaintances, and
vainly endeavoured to inveigle Mrs. De Wolfe to cross the water, and
establish herself in her company,--but Mrs. De Wolfe declining the lure
of Bridge, preferred to remain where she was!
The afternoon that Nancy and Sir Dudley set out to sketch the
Baptistery, Mrs. Horne came over to see her friend. The old lady was
sitting in the little garden by the lake, and recognizing her visitor
on the boat, hastened to meet, and welcome her.
"Would you like to go inside, Sally?" she asked, "or shall we have tea
out here?"
"I've had tea, thank you," said Mrs. Horne, "but by all means let us
sit outside. Where's your girl?" she inquired, looking round, and her
air was inquisitorial.
"Gone up to Lenno to finish a sketch."
"With Sir Dudley?"
Mrs. De Wolfe nodded a careless assent. After a moment's hesitation
this bold visitor announced: "I have something disagreeable to say to
you, Elizabeth."
"You needn't tell me that!" rejoined her companion, with a grim smile,
"I saw it in your face, before you came off the boat."
"I wonder if I shall make you very angry!"
"_Try_," said Mrs. De Wolfe; the word was a challenge, "I've not been
in a good wholesome rage for ages."
"Well, it's about Nancy, and Sir Dudley Villars.--People are talking."
"Bah!" ejaculated Mrs. De Wolfe, "let them talk!"
"But do please listen, my dear! I am fond of Nancy, and I can't bear to
hear it said, that she is being compromised."
"Compromised," shouted Mrs. De Wolfe. "What nonsense! What infamous
scandal."
"Yes, it's all over my hotel, and only this morning, as we sat in the
garden, Lady MacBullet, said she was sorry for Miss Travers; such a
pretty young creature, and she understood an orphan, making herself so
cheap and conspicuous, with a man of the character of Dudley Villars.
They were on the lake together all day,--and the hotel was full of
stories."
"Only cat women's gossip,--I know the style! I'm sure the men don't
talk of Dudley's character! Men are not gossips!"
"Oh! and why not; what about men's clubs?"
"Well, I've never heard a _man_, say anything against Dudley."
"No, because he is straight enough with _them_, I believe;--both rich
and generous. For women, he has a different code! Elizabeth, I know
you are devoted to Dudley Villars,--and although an old grandmother,
I am not altogether insensible to his fascinations, _myself_! When he
chooses, he can be irresistible, so do pray imagine the spell he can
cast over an impressionable young girl like Nancy?"
"_No_ spell has been cast," protested her friend, sharply, "and really
I'm surprised at you, Sally, taking the trouble to come over here, and
tell me your hotel was talking scandal. Dudley Villars is my godson, I
have absolute confidence in him you may be sure, or I would never have
suffered him to be the continual companion of Nancy."
"Well, at least I meant well," said Mrs. Horne, stiffly, "and my good
intention must be its own reward. I like Nancy, otherwise I wouldn't
have bothered." Then rising, "I see the Tremezzo boat coming in, and I
will go back in her!"
"No indeed, Sally," pulling her down, "you will do nothing of the sort.
I'm an ungrateful, ungracious old harridan, and I'm sincerely obliged
to you for your interest in Nancy. I confess, that I have never seen
anything but the best side of Dudley; I believe, and I feel in my
bones,--that he has behaved most honourably, with regard to the girl;
not one indiscreet word has he spoken! _That_ I can guarantee; and
she is not susceptible! Every scrap of love in her heart was absorbed
by her father, and since his death, I do not think she has much to
spare for anyone. Dudley and Nancy are good friends, and no more. I've
allowed them a little extra liberty, to go sketching and boating, not
knowing that _every_ eye was fixed upon them! I have already told
you, I trust Dudley, and as for the girl, before she ever saw him, I
informed her that he was a married man."
"Sometimes that makes no difference," remarked her companion.
"Oh! my dear Sally, I'm afraid you are getting infected; let me again
assure you, that Dudley's friendship with Nancy, is entirely platonic!"
"Then, my dear Elizabeth, it's something entirely new for Dudley
Villars," and Mrs. Horne, imparted to a reluctant ear, a brief account
of one or two affairs of which he was the hero.
"I suppose you haven't heard that the Bellamys are separated on his
account, and Daisy Bellamy has gone home to her mother?"
"_I've_ never believed that Dudley was responsible for that business!
still I'm afraid, Sally, that I've been a little slack as a chaperon;
so I'll put an end to the talk, by taking the girl on to Florence."
"A very wise move, my dear, and I sincerely hope it will not be a case
of 'locking the stable door, when the steed is stolen.'"
"No indeed! _my_ palfrey is safe. Nancy is heartwhole. I am getting
rather tired of the lake, and am such a well-known old tramp, that when
I bundle off at a couple of days' notice, it never excites remark."
"Do you think that Dudley Villars will make his way there too?"
"No," rejoined his champion with decision, "for although it is a
perfectly harmless friendship, I draw the line at followers."
After the boat had carried her visitor away, Mrs. De Wolfe remained for
a long time buried in profound meditation; then she rose, went into the
hotel, despatched a prepaid wire to Florence, and give notice of her
intending departure.
The next morning as the little party were at _déjeuner_, Mrs. De Wolfe
received a telegram. Having read it, she laid it aside and said: "Well
that's all right, we have got our rooms! Nancy, prepare to march on
Florence, the day after to-morrow!"
"You are not serious!" exclaimed Sir Dudley, setting down an untasted
glass.
"Perfectly serious, I wonder that I was not away long before this! My
campaigns, like Napoleon's, are rapidly organized."
"But _you_ have no campaign."
"No! but what about Nancy?"
"Beginning with this forced march, Auntie Wolfe, I wonder you can
exchange this lovely clear air, for the gloomy streets of Florence."
Mrs. De Wolfe laughed, and said: "I am tired of looking out on water;
in my hotel, which is not on the Lung' Arno, I can lie at my ease in a
comfortable bed, and stare at the Duomo; think of that!"
Dudley realized how foolish it was to argue with Auntie Wolfe at
present, but when Nancy had departed to give instructions to her maid,
and the old lady was alone, he said:
"Why are you going off so suddenly?"
An unwelcome idea flashed into his brain. Could Nancy have confided in
her chaperon?
"To a plain question, I'll give you a plain answer, my dear boy. There
are two kinds of discretion: one voluntary; the other enforced. I find
that people have begun to notice that you and my little girl are very
much together, and although it is a most innocent friendship, still it
does not do for Nancy to be talked about, so we will remove ourselves."
"What an infernal shame," exclaimed her godson, looking surprisingly
vexed. "The venomous tongues of some devils wouldn't leave an angel
alone."
"And you, my dear Dudley, are by all accounts, far from being an
angel!--I have heard some sad tales."
"Which of course you don't believe! Have you ever known me to play
the fool with any of your friends?" He paused for a reply. As none
was forthcoming he continued, "I cannot tell you what a happy time I
have put in here. You know I always feel so much at home with you,
dear Auntie Wolfe!" and he stooped and kissed her on her cheek. Then,
straightening himself, he said, as if struck by a bright idea: "I've
not been in Florence for a couple of years,--I believe I'll run down
there next week."
"_No_, Dudley," protested his godmother, raising her thin old hand,
"_that_ I positively forbid. You will see us in town,--and later at
the Court, but abroad, no more! It is so easy to be conspicuous in a
small do-nothing circle, and I'm sure you are quite as sensitive about
Nancy's reputation--though that is too big a word--as I am myself."
During the remaining two days, Dudley's manner to Nancy was perfect,
and entirely of the kindly elder brother type. He gave her sketches of
their favourite spots, supplied her with books for the journey, and
went all the way to Como, to put the ladies and their parcels into the
train, himself. Then returned down the lake alone, in a condition of
most abject misery. For days he walked and boated in the neighbourhood
of Cadenabbia; a melancholy object of picturesque dejection. Those who
witnessed and marked this change, said to one another, "Dudley Villars
has been badly hit this time; serves him jolly well right!" He wrote
cheerful (and exchangeable) letters to both ladies, giving them to
understand, that he was excessively gay, and well occupied.
But do what he would, he could not get Nancy out of his head; however
he consoled himself with the belief, that time and persistence would
be his staunch allies. And how he longed to see her! Sometimes
this longing overpowered him, and he nearly drove Antonio crazy by
his conflicting, and capricious orders. Twice, he arranged to go to
Florence, twice, he changed his mind; at last, he positively took his
departure. Was not Florence free to all the world?--Auntie Wolfe's
attitude implied that she had it on lease,--and even if he only saw
Nancy in a church, a picture gallery, or the street,--that would be
something!
On his arrival in the city of flowers, he boldly drove direct to Mrs.
De Wolfe's hotel; and here he had the mortification of learning, that
"the Signora and the Signorina, had left that morning for Palermo!"
* * * * *
From Sicily, the ever wandering Mrs. De Wolfe, took ship for Egypt,
where she put up at the Savoy Hotel, Cairo; here she discovered her
friend, Mrs. Horne, already established, and heard that all the Miller
party were at the Mena House.
"Six months' travelling had wrought a surprising change in her family,"
as Billy explained to her friend Nancy,--to whom she paid an immediate
visit.
"I declare we are so altered, you will hardly recognize any of our
party,--except myself. There is the Pater, he has cut off his little
side whiskers, and wears up-to-date collars, and looks years younger;
he plays golf, is very keen about excursions, and actually dances at
our hotel balls! He has met crowds of old friends, and has come out
of his shell in a most remarkable manner. Then mother has floated to
the surface. She now goes about with us; dresses very smartly, has
taken madly to Bridge, and can ride a donkey with the best. I think it
was Minna's engagement that aroused her from her torpor. She was so
immensely interested in a love affair at first hand! Minna is making
a splendid match, and we _all_ love Major Brently; he has become our
brother, and what he calls, 'wheels us into line'; and is awfully good
to us. Mother having, to use a sporting expression 'tasted blood,' has
now great hopes of Brenda; and many people consider Baby, our beauty!
The fact is, what with this inspiring climate, heaps of new friends, a
whirl of excitement and amusement, our existence has been quickened,
and we don't know ourselves, we are so happy!"
"Then your exodus has been a wonderful success! What a triumph for
_you_, Billy? No one now dare call you 'Silly Billy!'"
"Yes, it has turned out all right, and even if nothing particular had
occurred,--like Minna's engagement,--we would have had enough to think
and talk about, for years. As it is, we have souvenirs to fill a room,
and thousands of picture postcards; have enlarged our ideas, and made
many friends,--even mother has her pals."
"You like Egypt, I can see," said Nancy.
"I just love it, the sand, the delicious desert air, the cloudless
blue sky, and then Cairo itself. You and I must go about together,
Nancy. I've been here six weeks, and am getting quite clever at finding
my way, and making bargains. I can even talk a little Arabic. I have
collected ever so many presents for the people at home."
"I am sure you have," said Nancy; "how I wish that I had people at
home, I could take presents to."
"Oh! that will all come in time, my dear. Do tell me, have you come
across any interesting young men?"
"Yes, several; good dancers and tennis players, but not otherwise
specially engaging."
"You don't appear to have lost your heart?"
"No, I don't believe I've _that_ sort of heart to lose."
"It remains to be seen. When I've married off my three sisters--I'll
see about settling you."
"Thank you, Billy."
"And talking of settling, I wonder how father and the Mum will content
themselves at home, after this gay and giddy whirl about the world?"
"They won't settle; they will be continually on the move. I warn you,
that you have started an avalanche."
"A good thing I did! better than being an iceberg all one's days. By
the way, I hear you have done some exquisite water-colours of Como; do
show them to me."
"Oh! how good!" she exclaimed, after Nancy had displayed her
treasures,--artfully keeping the best to the last--
"Nancy, these are quite top-hole,--who taught you?"
"I had a good master at school, but a friend of Mrs. De Wolfe's, who
was at Cadenabbia, gave me lessons. We went out sketching together,
almost every day."
"With a chaperon, of course?"
Nancy shook her head.
"Who was he; had he a name?"
"Certainly he had! Sir Dudley Villars."
"Oh! Some call him 'Prince Charming,' others, 'a Deadly villain.'
He is not very young,--but so handsome, isn't he? and a merciless
lady-killer."
"Well, here am I, alive and well, so you see he has spared _me_," said
Nancy, who had almost forgotten a certain conversation which had taken
place on the low wall, by the Villa Aconati.
* * * * *
Cairo is said to be the most typical Eastern city in the world, and it
appealed very strongly to Nancy Travers. The palm trees, the dark faces
of a gesticulating voluble throng, the dense blue sky, the warm and
golden sun, in some ways recalled India. In February Cairo is socially
at its gayest. Nancy and her chaperon were in flattering request.
However, it was not society, but this land of tombs, temples and a
river, that engrossed her interest, and fired her warm imagination.
One afternoon, towards the end of her stay, as Mrs. De Wolfe and Nancy
drove out to the Mena House, behind a dashing pair of long-tailed
Arabs, as they sped along Ismail's road, the old lady discussed her
plans.
"I must give you a bit of the season, Nancy, and you shall be presented
at a May Court."
"Oh! no, no, please no!"
"Well, you know, you will have to make your curtsey to your sovereign,
some time! Shall we say on your marriage?"
Nancy made no immediate reply, but the cheek nearest to her friend, was
unusually pink--Why? She appeared to be engrossed in watching a long
string of clumsy, heavily-laden camels. Nothing to blush at there!
"After June, we will go down to the Court," resumed Mrs. De Wolfe; "it
is such a dear old place, you will love it."
"How can you desert it, as you do?"
"That is what my neighbours ask, but I don't mind their remonstrances,
I yield to the _Wanderlust_. The Court is too large for one old woman,
and though I am attached to it,--it holds agonizing memories, and I
cannot endure it, unless it is packed,--so to speak,--to the roof,
when my guests and their doings monopolize my attention, and distract
my thoughts from the long illness, and death of my dear husband, the
parting with my two sons,--who never came back to me. One was killed
at Magersfontein, the other died of typhoid in India. The Court is full
of reminders, of Freddy, and Hugh. Their bedrooms, with their personal
belongings, are precisely as they left them, with their pictures,
books, birds' eggs, and butterflies. The gardens they worked in, are
still kept up, and planted with their favourite flowers; their old
pony, Barkis, only died two years ago, at an immense age. I often ask
myself, why the lives of those two promising young men should be cut
short? and a useless old woman, their mother, still cumbers the ground?"
To this question Nancy--who had a large lump in her throat--could make
no reply, and there fell a long silence.
"I wonder what you see in me, my dear?" began Mrs. De Wolfe suddenly.
"My life is now behind me, you are young and stand upon its
threshold,--a radiant, and expectant figure."
"Radiant! I'm afraid not; you are too partial, and as for
expectations--they are strictly moderate."
"That at least is something. On the _Patna_, they were positively nil.
Poor forlorn child, I took pity upon you, as I would on a drowning
kitten!"
"You did," assented the girl, with laughing eyes, "and here I am on
your hands, a full-grown young cat!"
"Claws and all complete, a most formidable responsibility! Well, I
threw you a plank and brought you to land,--some of these days I may
float you off again, upon the sea of matrimony."
"No, no, dear Auntie Wolf," laying her hand on hers, "I'm very happy as
I am,--please don't dream of such a thing."
"Well, if I do not,--others will. Ah, there are Sir Lucas and Major
Horne, waiting for us," she added, as they turned into the garden, and
dashed up the entrance of Mena House. "I wonder if the Millers have
secured their cabins in our steamer?"
"I think so, and you will find Major Horne will be of the party,--I
have a presentiment, that he hopes to marry Billy."