L I B RARY OF THE UN IVERSITY or ILLINOIS 8:^3 F768;2i V- 1 ^^^ IN THE OLD PALAZZO. F. V. WHITE & CO.'S SELECT ROYELS BY POPULiR AUTHORS. Crown 8vo, cloth^ js. 6d. each. The following Volumes of the Series are now ready, and can he obtained of all Booksellers in Toton and Country, and at all Railway Bookstalls: — By FLORENCE MARRYAT. MY SISTER THE ACTRESS. A BROKEN BLOSSOM. FACING THE FOOTLIGHTS. HER WORLD AGAINST A LIE. PEERESS AND PLAYER. UNDER THE LILIES & ROSES. MY OWN CHILD. THE HEART OF JANE WARNER By ANNIE THOMAS. FRIENDS AND LOVERS. | JENIFER. 1 ALLERTON TOWERS. By LADY CONSTANCE HOWARD. SWEETHEART AND WIFE. I MOLLIE DARLING. MATED WITH A CLOWN. | ONLY A VILLAGE MAIDEN. By MRS. ALEXANDER ERASER. A PROFESSIONAL BEAUTY. [ A FATAL PASSION. By IZA DTJFFUS- HARDY. LOVE, HONOUR AND OBEY. ] NOT EASILY JEALOUS. ONLY A LOVE STORY. By H. LOVETT-CAMERON. By DORA RUSSELL. A NORTH COUNTRY MAID. OUT OF EDEN. By JEAN MIDDLEMASS. POISONED ARROWS. By NELLIE FORTESCXJE HARRISON. FOR ONE MAN'S PLEASURE. IN THE OLD PALAZZO B, Nobfl. GEETEUDE FOEDE Author of "A Lady's Tour in Corsica," &c. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. 1. LONDON : F.V.WHITE & CO., 31, SOUTHAMPTON ST., STRAND 1885. PRINTED BY KELLT AND CO., GATK STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES. v.l CONTENTS. I. — The Musician II. 1 WILL NEVER BE AN EnGLISH MeES ! III. — GooD-BiE TO Rome IV. — " Iddio, mt Piccola ! " V. — The Honourable Beresford VI. — My Foreign Cousin VII. — A Sincere Person VIII. — A Serious Conversation IX. — Love's Remembrance X. — Sir Peter put down . XI. — Good Advice .... XII. — A tame Sculptor XIII. — Two's Compani, Three's None XIV. — Ino speaks XV. — Mr. Conway reforms 1 ES! . 20 . 32 45 . 60 . 81 . 97 114 . 134 146 . 16() 178 . 191 . 2Vd . 223 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. IN THE OLD PALAZZO. CHAPTEE I. THE MUSICIAN. IT had been a lordly mansion once, long years ago — a few hundred more or less, what matters it in Rome ? — furnished within with magnificence, rich without with decora- tive sculpture. Even now, dirty, neglected, and half ruinous as it. was, its fa9ade defaced, its courtyard defiled, the Palazzo Carborelli shewed stately in decay. A wide marble staircase led up inside to indefinite heights, each floor apparently tenanted by one or more families ; but the mezzo-piano and the ground floor bore upon the lintel of the door post one and the same name — that of " Bartolucci." Signora Bartolucci, or " Annunciata," as VOL I 1 2 . ly THE OLD PALAZZO. most of lier lodgers called lier, was a bustling active woman of a humble condition in life, and by no means above looking after her numerous tenants herself. These latter were not, as a rule, of aristocratic pretensions. In olden days, no doubt, the stairs had echoed to the martial tread of il sisfnor Duco, or I'illustrissimo Principe may have stared forth from the windows ; but now the rooms were chiefly occupied by men and women of artistic pursuits — beings who rose early and slept late, who lived frugally and paid the lightest of rents, and through those muffled doors might sometimes be heard flashes of brilliant music or rich song ; or, when they were b}^ chance left a moment ajar, sometimes seen the gleam of a great half painted canvas, the vision of a ghostly lay-figure, or the gaudy hues of scarlet and purple robes. Few of the apartments were more bare and cheerless than one — a lono' low room — situated on the mezzo-piano The faded but once richly painted ceiling seemed to mock the incongruity of the scanty worn furniture — a narrow bedstead, half con- THE MUSIC I AX. 3 cealed by a ragged screen, an oaken armoire and a waslistand ; and at the other end of the room, a ricketty table and one or two arm- chairs, the carved wood of which was broken, and the deep-piled velvet frayed. The stove was not lit — it was too early in the year for that, though a scaldino might have been ac- ceptable enough in the damp chilliness of this last day of November — and there was no lamp or light of any sort to relieve the gloom of the rapidly falling twilight. What was the use of a lamp to a blind man ? And yet the solitary occupant of the dreary room sat, leaning back upon one of the crimson- cushioned window seats, his sightless eyes fixed upon the outside world with the intent look of one to whom that patch of deepening blue sky, that intricate mass of domes and spires and roofs, were things of present vision, not of past remembrance. Upon his knee la}^ a violin, across the strings of which the long nervous fingers of his left hand moved up and down caressingly, ever and anon (when unwittingly a quicker pressure made itself felt upon the instrument), waking a half- 1* 4 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. sounded note, that breathed like a distant wail across the empty space. Presently came a burst of impish laughter, echoing from a neighbouring corridor, and the musician's hand paused, while a slow smile crept over his lips. After that, a moment's silence. Then the sound of angry voices, a sudden rush of heavy feet along the passage, and the noise of a scuffle carried on to the very door of the room. Finally the same childish voice, before raised in merriment, now choking with pas- sionate anger : " Accidente ! " it cried furiously, " io ti odio ! " But before another word could be uttered, the musician had laid aside his violin, and with quick, light steps had crossed the room and opened the door. One hand laid firmly upon the girl's quivering mouth, checked the torrent of anger rushing forth, whilst the other pulled her, still fiercely struggling, across the threshold, and shut to the door. Then Bernard Cortauld loosed his hold, and the slight figure fell sobbing in a frenz}^ of rage THE MUSICIAN. 5 upon tlie marble floor. He, meanwliile, re- turned as silently as lie had come to his seat beside the window, once more taking his instrument upon his knee. And presently, without heeding the child's sobs, he laid his bow across the strings ; and the twilight was filled with rich harmonies and dreamy cadences that seemed to speak with human words. For lonsf he continued playing, his thin figure swaying back and forwards in a perfect fellowship with his violin, his worn face wearing: more and more the wrapt look of absorption belonging to one whose spirit has fled away to unknown worlds upon the wings of music. And soon the childish crying died away, and she rose, coming gradually nearer and nearer as if fascinated, her small dark face, upon which the tears were scarcely dried, all aglow with an eager appreciation. Child as she was, she felt, as others feel, how directly the pulsations of the violin vibrate to these human hearts of ours. Yet the music of heaven is likened only to the playing of harps. The strings of the harp speak a message of 6 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. peace, of unalloyed sweetness — those of the violin of a passionate yearning. The former perhaps seem the fittest accompaniment of a life of perfect calm, unruffled neither by an uncertain future nor the memories of a painful past. But, so long as human beings still exist upon this earth, the most congenial sympathy of things inanimate will be found by many in the wild throbbings of the violin, and the restless motion of the sea. Night had fallen when at length the musician, with a sigh, laid aside his bow ; and for a few moments there was silence in the room. Then the child crept a little closer, and half timidly laid her rough head upon his shoulder. He let it so lie for a minute ; then put up his hand and abruptly raised the drooping face. " Benedetta," he asked, " who taught you to swear ? " A momentary silence — then a shame-faced answer in low tones : " I am sorry. Maestro ! " " Who taught it you ? " he repeated. "I don't know — Pippo perhaps. Forgive THE MUSICIAN. 7 me, Maestro." She was trembling and draw- ing towards him again, like a chidden dog. " What put you in such a passion ? " " Pippo was below in the court-yard, and I had my little watering-pot — I had just been watering my llowers, and I poured a little, just a few drops, upon his head for fun. It was no- thing, Maestro, not a spoonful ; but Pippo is so spiteful, and he looked up and called me an English cow. So then I was angry, and I threw down my pot at him, and — and it hit him on the head. And he yelled, and ran and told 'Nunciata, and 'Nunciata came upstairs running, and struck me two or three times. So then — and then " " Ah ! " said the old man, " so then you cursed her ? " " 'Nunciata always takes Pippo's part against me. Maestro " " And Eaffaelino takes yours against his brother. They are both her sons." The child was silent. " Do you know what ' accidente ' means, Detta ? " " No," softly and hesitatingly. 8 J.y THE OLD PALAZZO. " It means ' may tlie great God let Annun- ciata's body be killed suddenly in this world, and her soul lost in the next ! ' Now, Piccola, you know. Will you say it again ? " " No, never I never again ! " His fingers began to stroke the dark rough head, " And what will you do to show you are sorry ? " "I will beg 'Nunciata's pardon. And I will ask Our Lad}^ and all the Saints " " Peste ! " cried the old man ; and Bene- detta paused, startled. " Who told you to pray to the Saints ? " he asked. " Why, 'Nunciata " " Don't pray to them, child ; pray to God. You are not a Piomanist." Her eyes opened wide, and her lips quivered. " But I don't know anvthino^ about God, Maestro. May 'n't I even pray to the Santis- sima Maria ? " " What do you know about the Saints, child?" " Oh, a great deal. 'Xunciata has a lovely red THE MUSICIAK 9 Look full of tliem that she lends me to read sometimes ; and Father Pietro tells me stories about them." " So Father Pietro comes here, does he ? " " Oh yes, often. Sometimes to supper with 'Nunciata and Ino and me. When you are away at the Opera, you know." There w^as a long pause, whilst the sightless eyes looked thoughtfully out into the land of retrospection and the child sat trying to read his face in the darkness. " Are you angry. Maestro mio ? " she asked at length timidly. "iNo, Piccola, no." Then he gathered himself together and sat upright. " How old are you, Benedetta ? " " Nearly twelve. Maestro, now — so 'Nun- ciata sa3's. " Nearly twelve ! Who would have thought it!" he muttered to himself. "Ten years since Campbell died ! It seems impossible ! Detta," he continued abruptly, " 3^ou do not remember your father ? " " Oh no, Maestro ; how could I ? I was only a bab}^, you know, when he died." 10 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. "True. Did I ever tell you anytliiug about him ? " " Only that he was an Englishman. But," in a low, awe-struck tone, " 'Nunciata says he was very beautiful — tall and fair " Cortauld sighed quickly. " As beautiful as one of his own statues," he murmured, " and almost as fragile. He was a sculptor, Detta ; did you know that ? " " Yes, yes. But tell me all about him. Why did he die ? " " He died," replied her companion slowly, " of a broken heart. He had genius without perseverance or faith in himself ; and genius at all times is a doubtful benefit to its possessor. He was too fitful, too erratic, too unknown to be successful, and too sensitive a man to push his way against adverse circum- stances — one of the sort that shrink away at the first sign of neglect or misappreciation, and break their heart over the first cold or cruel word. Ah well ! the world naturally holds in hio-her esteem that which it under- stands than that which is beyond its ken. For, mind you, genius may give birth to grand THE MUSICIAN 11 ideas, but often it fails to develop them into living works. And the fame is reaped rather by the hand that executes than by the mind which conceives." He was speaking absently, more to himself than to the girl beside him, but her eyes were fixed upon him with an earnestness which sat strangely upon the childish features. She touched him lightly on the arm, and he started from his dreamim?. " Was the world cruel — to him ? " " Only by denying him that appreciation which was his due, until too late. But your mother was very dear to him. Had it not been for her death, he might perhaps have down-lived and over-mastered an unlucky fate. For she was his strength, his support ; she at least believed in him with all her heart and soul. When you, my Poverina, however, were but little more than a year old, she died of a sudden virulent fever ; and from that day poor JN'ed's hope, his very inspiration, seemed to desert him, and he faded slowly away. They called it decline — ah well ! so it was ; but it was the decline of a life from which the 12 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. sap has been drawn — just tlie witliering-up of a nature never made to stand tlie wear and tear of a world full of suffering and disap- pointment." A sigh came bursting from the child's lips — a sigh out of the depths of a heart too full to speak, and her small brown fingers clenched themselves as if in impotent desire to avenge the ill-used dead. Cortauld put out his hand and softly touched her face. " I wonder if you resemble him him ? " he muttered. " Oh, no ! " she exclaimed almost fiercely ; " He was beautiful, and good, and fair. I am black, and ugly — and bad ! " " I do not think you can be ngly," mused the old man, drawing his hand across her face. " Your profile is straight and firm like his." " Ah ! but I have thick black hair, not lovely and golden, and great dark eyes " " Then you must be like your mother. She was a beautiful woman, Benedetta, and a noble one, although not one of the rich or well-born THE 31 U SI CI AN. 13 of the earth. Your father was of a good race ; and long years ago, when he came to settle in l{ome, left, I believe, grand relations who were angry enough at his choice of a profession. But 3^our mother was the only daughter of a dear old mutual friend of ours, Benedetto Branconi by name. He kept a curiosity shop there at the corner of the Via Tre Fontani. He never sold much. He was more of a virtuoso than a merchant, and loved collecting relics rather than parting with them — a true artist, but not a man to make much money. It went to his heart to sell the bits of antiquities he had been at such pains to gather together, and I have known him hide away in a corner some pet trifle of vertu for fear anyone should take a fancy to it and want to buy it. He could give your mother little or nothing in the way of a dower, so it was but a menage of love and lentils that your father had. But Olinta Branconi was a woman to brighten the darkest life and to make even poverty beautiful. Your father did wisely in his choice, though I doubt if those relations of his up in the north would have thought so. 14 ly THE OLD PALAZZO. But they probably never heard of his marriage, nor of your existence, my Piccola." " I don't want them to hear of me," she whispered confidingly. " Poor as they were, however, I doubt if ever a mother looked with greater joy upon the face of her babe than did yours ; and, as it had been agreed upon that the child was to be named after her father, you were called Benedetta." " Is my grandfather alive yet. Maestro ? " " 0, no, child. He died years ago, in his little room, at the back of the curiosit}^ shop. His collection has been sold, and Branconi's name removed from the door long since. There was another short silence ; then he spoke again ; it seemed with something of an effort. " Detta, sit up ; I want to tell you more. Have you ever thought of leaving Italy and 'Nunciata ? " She began to tremble. "Leaving Eome, Maestro? But you would come, too ? " " Do you love me then, Piccola ? " THE 3IUSICIAN. 15 The little cramped-up figure suddenly slid down upon tlie floor, and bending low, laid its lips upon his feet. "That much. Maestro! 0, much, much more than that ! " " Come back, Detta ; give me your atten- tion. When your father died, his works were all sold, and they realized a fair sum of money. For, with the cruel irony of fate, so frequent in this world, men's tongues began lustily to praise the dead artist whose grave had been first dug by their contempt. Had you been penniless, little one, you would always have had a roof to shelter you, if nothing more — for that I promised joiiv father upon his death-bed, and you would have been welcome for his sake. For, from the first day I saw him, I loved him — in the years when I, too, had e3^es to see life's clouds and sunshine, as well as to hear its harmonies and discords." He paused a moment. " But after that sale, you were by no means penniless. 'Nunciata, who, as you know, had been your mother's servant, was glad to stop 16 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. on and take, as best she could, a mother's place towards you ; and she has done her duty faithfully, for she is an honest soul, though sometimes rous^h. But the sum of money is almost untouched, for you have cost, as yet, little or nothing ; a child like you, content with simple fare, and I fear," and he touched the coarse material of her dress doubtfully, " almost in rags. But I must do my duty towards you, Piccola. You must not be allowed to grow up ragged, and untaught and wild ; you must go to school, and be civilized, and learn to know some- thing of 3^our own people and language. Are you aware that you are an English- woman, my Detta ? " " No, no ! " she exclaimed, breathlessl}^ " I am Italian — Eoman ! " " But your father w^as English." She w^as silent. " And before his death, he told me his Welshes concerning you. He had changed his mind then, and w^as sorr}^ he said, for your sake, that he had so cut himself off from his relations. They were not really hard or unjust, THE MUSICIAN. 17 lie tliought. He had been impulsive and self- opiniated as a youtli, and in too great a hurry to resent interference and to shake himself free from control. It was, perhaps, natural that they should have treated his artistic schemes but coldly, and he admitted that the many years of estrangement that had since ensued, were due chiefly to his own proud spirit, which shrank from reconciliation with those whom he felt, with bitter humiliation, might point to his unsuccessful career as the fulfilment of their own predictions. But, under the shadow of death, pride is apt to melt away, and family bonds to renew their force ; and your father, Detta, began to think more of your welfare and less of his own independence. Old associations began to press upon liim^ ; he began to regret the ties he had flung away ; and I think his heart yearned after his old home, and his child- hood's days. ' Do not let her grow up an Italian,' he said to me, speaking of you. ' Some day, when she is bigger, send her to England, if you can. Write to my relations ; perhaps they will be good to my child for my VOL. I. 2 18 jy THE OLD PALAZZO. sake — it lias been more my fault than theirs — I never could stand a word of interference.' But, Piccola, time flies fast, and the years- have gone over our heads more quickly than I thought. You are growing up into a big girl, and we must fulfil your father's wishes. I must write to these relations of 3^ours, whose addresses he gave me. Heaven grant that they are not all dead and buried ! But we need not beg from them, at any rate as yet ; there is money enough and plenty, of your own, to send you to school for many a long day, and teach you many things. And after that, if they do not want you, why then, Piccola, we shall have done as he wished, and you can but return to your old Maestro, to keep his home for him until he dies." There was no answer, but he felt the heav- ing of the small bosom pressed against his own. " So now, Detta, you must be brave and wish to go to England, will you not ? " " But you will come too, Maestro ? " " I cannot take you there, my child. How could a blind man ? I must find someone to HIE M US LCI AX. 19 go ^vitli you. As for me, I shall, of course, remain in Eome." A bitter cry rang tlirougli the long, empty room. " I must go alone ? Not without you, Maestro. Oh, not without you ! " " I thought my Piccola was brave ? " " But I love you. Maestro ; I love you ! " And flinging her arms around him, she burst forth into passionate weeping. ^5^^^~^~-^ll)?-2r^^ 9* CHAPTEE II. I WILL NEVER BE AN ENGLISH MEES ! 'I'lWO months had passed. A bright Januar}^ X sun was shining down on the stone-paved courtyard of the old Palazzo. An open arcade, upported by columns, ran round the yard, I id beneath this, perched on a rough stone ool, sat Delta, swinging her feet impatiently, lid paying but little attention to the piece i' coarse knitting which had been placed in :^r hands. Annunciata, a stout comely woman of the .i.ldle class, dressed after the fashion of her )v;nspeople, hurried in and out through the a ions open doors, intent -upon household res, while Pippo was busily engaged in using two kittens at play in an adjacent rner of the courtyard. When will Ino come ? Is it not near 1 WILL NEVER BE AiY EXGLISII MEESf : noon ? " asked Detta for tlie tliird or fourt . time. " Dio mio ! Can slie not tell by the lieigl: of the snn ? I have no time to be alway. running to look at the clock," W3.s Annnn ciata's somewhat impatient response ; whilsi Pippo paused in his whistling, remark inij scornfully : " Poverina ! Can she not do without her sweetheart for a few minutes longer ? " Detta bent down, and, deliberately seizing upon the missile nearest to her hand, flung it at Pippo's head. He, knowing by experience that a bunch of uncooked onions is apt to be disagreeably hard, ducked adroitly, and at the same moment Annunciata darted out and arrested the girl's hand. " k^anta Maria ! " die exclaimed ; " dost tliou think vegetables are bought merely to be knocked about here and there in thy silly foolin2[ ? " But the next moment the scene changed, as a youth entered through the open doorway leading out into the street. He was tall and slim, and moved witli L>2 IX THE OLD PALAZZO. that peculiar grace so common amongst Italians. His features too ^^ere Italian in their classic beaut}^ Liquid southern eyes looked out from the low white forehead surrounded by clusterin<2: black curls, o-ivins; fire and ex- pression to a face which otherwise, with its clear cut profile and finely moulded lips, might have been almost too statue-like. At his coming Pippo ceased to tease the cats, whilst Detta flung down her knitting, and ran towards him with a joyful exclama- tion. " I thought you would never be here," she exclaimed ; "it is so dull without you. Your mother will not let me go out by myself." " My mother is right," said the boy gravel}^ putting his arm with familiar affection around her shoulders. " A little maid like you should not ramble about the streets of Eome alone." " Come then, quick," she said, " and let us have dinner ; then we will start at once for our walk." Eaffaelino dived into the dark kitchen, and presently returned, bearing two basins of I WILL NEVLU BE AX EXGLISIl MEES! 23 steaming soup, wliicli lie placed upon a stone table at one end of the arcade. " Here we are," said he. " We will have our dinner out in the sun, Piccola, will we not ? " The soup was succeeded by a few vegetables, then by a plate of maccaroni, and accom- panied by a bottle of the red country wine. It was a simple repast, soon over, but seemed quite sufficient to Benedetta Campbell, who was as yet inexperienced in the carnivorous appetites of her own people. As they rose up to go, Annunciata's sharp voice made itself heard from within. " Ecco I " it said, " no dawdling- about after Ino has P'one ; hearest thou, Detta ? Thou must come straight home. There is no end of this English finery to be tried on thee, Saints help us ! What is the use of it, / can- not see. To deck a child out like a duchess, in order to go to their country of England, where, so they tell me, the sun never shines, and where indeed it is daylight but half the year round. But there, the Maestro's money burns a hole in his pooket!" 2i IN THE OLD PALAZZO. " Tliou wilt strut about like a young parrot among thy new relations," remarked Pippo teazingl}^ " Thou wilt be an English Mees then. But thou must not throw raw onions any more at people's heads, or thy friends maybe, will turn thee out into the streets." " I w^ill never be an English Mees 1 " cried the girl crimsoning. " Oh yes, thou w^ilt," pursued her tormen- tor ; " thou wilt learn to talk that English, which sounds as if a man had swallowed his own tongue and w^ere choking with it in his throat, and thou wdlt become affected and mincing, and wilt say : ' Oh, sho-king ! ' and wult w^alk like this ! " And Pippo proceeded to give an illustration of his idea of the English feminine mode of progression. Detta's eyes w^ere full of tears of mortifica- tion. But Pippo's career across the courtyard w^as brought to an abrupt conclusion by the application of his brother's foot to his person. He fell somewdiat heavily upon the stone pavement, and picked himself up howling. " Ah Dio! " exclaimed Annunciata, rumiin'e Eng^lishwoman who wears 86 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. a man's liat and jacket, and whom tliey say is so wild and odd. Ah ! and here comes ' La Graziella,' who sings at the Opera ; and there are two gentleman with her, I think belonging to the orchestra. She is nodding and smiling to us, Maestro ; " and at this remark, the thin white hand of the Englishman, now violin player at the Eoman Theatre, went up to his shabby hat, which he pulled off with an air combining an odd mixture of Italian grace and the old-fashioned courtliness of his boy- hood's teaching. " Maestro," she said suddenl}'-, " turn round now and let the sunlight fall upon your face. The sunset is beginning to crimson the sky, and 0, our city is so beautiful ! San Pietro looks cold and grey rising out of the golden mist — you can only just see his dome — but the spires of the other churches gleam as if they were made of metal, and all the houses seem cut out in black paper, their outlines stand so sharp against the blood -red clouds." " Go on," said Cortauld, as the child paused, for he loved to hear any one recall to his memory, however faintl}^, the charms of that GOOD-BYE TO ROME. 37 nnrivallecl city which had from youth been his ideal of solemn beauty and of grandeur, and which he worshipped with all the passionate enthusiasm of an artistic nature. But there was no repl}^ Detta caught her breath with a suppressed sob, and her com- panion knew instinctively that she had laid her head down on the stone wall in front of them. He silently stroked the little hand that lay in his ; but not another word was spoken as they began descending the hill, where all was still bright and roseate ; then plunging into the grey gloom of the shadowed streets. They had a good walk before them ; but the feet of both man and child were well used to treadino; the rouo-h, uneven streets, and were not easily tired. When at length they stood upon the bridge, the sun had already set, and only a few pink gleams showed here and there in streaks be- tween the tall grey houses. The river rolled by sullenly — that yellow, turbid Tiber which carries in its silent breast the memories of so many heroic deeds, and of the historic displays 38 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. of SO many thousand years. In tlie centre of the bridge they paused and looked over. The old man listened to the sound of the swelling waters sadly enough ; but the child soon raised her eyes towards the great angel wdiicli spread its dark wings so mystically overhead in the gathering twilight. For j^ears that angel had been to Detta the object of a half superstitious love and reverence. It had never seemed to her as a thing of art, conceived by the brain and carved out by the tool of mortal man; to her it alw^aj^s stood as the loving guardian of the city, keep- ing, watch alike by silent night and noisy day, hovering above in the pure blue ether, un- tainted by the breath of sin and corruption which rose up beneath, and gazing with a calm pity and silent love upon every human unit inhabiting those high-storied houses in the many twisted streets. She could not well have put her idea into words, but this was the sum and substance of it ; and it is possibly one not unknown to other minds which have dwelt beneath the shadow of tliis poetic, old-world city. To GO OB-BYE TO HOME. 39 Delta this was the bitterest good-bye in all Eome ; and, as she lowered her eyes slowly from the outspread wings and clearly chiselled figure, once more moving onwards with her companion, they Avere full of unshed, tears brought thither by that fanciful imagination which made it nppear to her as if she were leaving her ethereal protector behind her. It was nearly dark as they penetrated down one of th'i~ three streets leading to- wards the Piazza, and stood at length before San Pietro. The great square was almost deserted — on the road carriages had passed them driving swiftly and conveying freights of foreigners muffled up in shawls and cloaks, and holdin^r hand kerchiefs to their mouths — and the moon, which had already risen, silvered the great grey dome, and laid the black shadows of the columns in dark bars across each wide arcade. Neither spoke much as they paced slowly round the silent fountain, and through the hollow- sounding colonnades, or sat for a few mo- ments upon the broad flight of steps leading 40 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. up to tlie great cathedral, listening to the hushed voices of the city, as they made their way, softened by distance, into the deserted Piazza. Silent still, they returned at length through noisy street and crowded bye-way, past crumbling ruin and giant arch, back to the brilliantly-lit Corso and the darkened courtyard of the old Palazzo. But, once again in his own apartment, Cortauld called the child towards him. " Detta," he said, " I am going to tell you about your relations and where they live. It is right you should know something about them before you leave us. They have not behaved unkindly to you. In future " he paused, and his voice trembled a little — " my Piccola must look to these relations as to her best and nearest friends, and will, I hope, not find it difficult to love them. You have, you know, little one, two aunts. Both have written to me expressing kindly interest in you. One, Lady Dumbarton, is a Scotch- woman, and your father's half sister only. I fancy she must have been greatly his senior. The other, Mrs. Wilding, lives in England, GOOD-BYE TO BO MR 41 and was your father's own sister. It is slie who has chosen the school for you. Both she and Lady Dumbarton invite you to spend part of yoar Midsummer holidays with them ; and Mrs. Wilding adds that she will be willing for you to pass every Christmas with herself and her family. She, Mrs. Wilding, writes kindly and affectionately of your father, and says had she heard of you sooner, she would have been glad to do what she could for her brother's child. So you see, after all, my Piccola, that you are not going lonely to a foreign land, but to kith and kin, who will, I hope, wel- come you and soon love you for your own sake." Benedetta tightened her hold upon him, but made no reply. " I only hope," said the old man musingly, " that I have not been remiss in keeping you away so long from your own people. I was misled by poor Ned's prejudices. I thought it more than probable that the}'' might refuse to recognise you ; but now all is well, Piccola. You must try and learn as fast as you can, and become less and less of a little savage, so 42 7.V THE OLD PALAZZO. that wlieii Midsummer comes, your aunts may not be ashamed of their brother's little girl." Then, seeing still that the child made no response, he gently dropped her hand and took up his instrument. When, an hour later SafFaello came in, he was still playing. The lamp, placed upon the bare wood table, shed a dim light across the apartment, which fell upon the thin features of the player, illumined by the visionary smile which rarely failed to wake at the sound of his violin. It fell also upon a young figure, lying face down- wards upon the ud carpeted floor, and still quivering with long-indulged sobs. Eaffaelino stooped over the little heap of childish sorrow, and lifting it up, placed it on the seat beside him " Carissima," he whispered tenderly, " do not cr}^ so. Do you not know how it will grieve the Maestro if he hears you ? " The child dried her eyes submissively, and made a strong effort to compose herself. When at leno'tli the last soft hiodi chord had died awa}^ into space, the musician held out his hand towards her, and she rose, and, * GOOIJ-BYE TO ROME. 4!^ coming to liim, laid her head upon his shoulder. " Thou wilt hear much beautiful music in England, my Piccola," he said. " The com- mon people do not love it and take part in it as they do here in song-loving Italy ; but every great artiste comes to the huge rich city of London, where there are always so many people to appreciate talent, and willing to pay for it." Benedetta heaved a long, deep sigh. '' I shall hear none like yours, Maestro." ' " Oh, 5^es, you will, little one ; far better than mine." " It will not sound the same to me." And here she nearly broke down again. Cortauld put his arm around her. " Poveretta ! " he said tenderly, *' do not fret. We shall see each other a2:ain some day, please God." " When I am grown up, Maestro, and have learnt all my lessons, then I ma}^ come back and live with you again ? " " Who knows ? who knows ? " he muttered vaguely to himself. U I.Y TUB OLD PALAZZO. • " It is a long, long time," slie sighed. ^' It will seem to go by quicker after a bit,'* he said. But in his heart he felt how unlikely it was that Benedetta Campbell, after her five or six years' English training, should ever return from her father's country and relations to 1)6 his adopted child as of yore in the old Palazzo. ^^''ASM®^-^^ CIIAPTEE IV. " ADJ)IO, MY riCCOLA ! " NEAELY a week had passed. lienedetta had now been several days at her English school. She found, the time pass much more quickly than she had expected. The new life was so totally different from an}^- thing she had before experienced, and incident succeeded incident with such startling rapidit}^, that to one of her vivacious and intelligent disposition, little room was left for any feelings but those of interest and amazement, and she had as yet been almost too excited to give way to her anticipated home- sickness. Her schoolfellows, teachers, and the exist- ence they led, were so many curious puzzles to her, while she was undoubtedly as great an enigma to them. As yet her companions had not fairly made up their minds whether to 46 7.V THE OLD PALAZZO. like or dislike her. At present they were in- clined to reixard her with that half anti- pathetic wonder with which a wild bird mif^ht be expected to be greeted by the inmates of a cageful of tame canaries. Her teachers were divided between the annoyance and perplexity caused by her want of civilisation, and a certain attraction that most of them felt for the wistful-eyed, original little creature. So far, Benedetta's scholastic career could scarcely be said to have been a success. She seemed to have employed her- self in tumbling, so to speak, out of one scrape into another. She had already out- raged the local proprieties on almost every point, and broken every rule in the establish- ment ; and it was only on account of her evi- dent iofnorance of all social laws, and owinsr to the excuse offered for her shortcomings by the difficulty of understanding her or making lier understand, that she had not fallen into dire disgrace. The child knew a little English, which Bernard Cortauld had been at pains to teach her ; but it was of a very broken and inefficient kind, and could by no means carry '' ADBIO, MY PICCOLXr' 47 her tlirougli the requirements of the day. It was inadvisable, too, to encourage her as yet in its public display, she having already, on more than one occasion, convulsed the whole school by her peculiar accent and ridiculous choice of words. This morning, for the first time, the little Italian, as the girls called her, had appeared in a new li^^ht, havinor been sim:j;led out for commendation. It was during the singing class, when Benedetta's full, clear tones and exact ear had contrasted favourably with the thin, reedy notes and false harmonies of many of her companions. On being questioned, too, she had proved herself, nothwithstand- ing her broken English, to have a knowledge of the science of music, unusual at her age, and which utterly distanced her schoolfellows. The shiging master's approbation, however, had not elated Detta as it probably would have done many of her companions. She was a child little affected as yet by praise or blame, except from those she loved. She had neither ambition nor conceit, and the lightest expressed wish of the Maestro or Eaffaell> 48 IX THE OLD PALAZZO. recurring to her memory, liad more power to move her than the strongest opinions of those strangers now surrounding her. It was now afternoon, and, notwithstanding being the month of February, bright and fairly warm. The girls were all assembed in the garden, previous to their afternoon walk, for which the presiding genius, one of the English governesses, had not as yet arrived. A little wooden verandah spread along one side of the house under the school- room windows ; and at this point, an animated scene, of which Benedetta was the central fif^ure, was o^oino^ on. The child, who was surrounded by a circle of her com- panions, was engaged in executing a Cam- pagnan dance, perhaps of a more lively than decorous nature, accompanjdng it at the same time with snatches of a shrill canzonnetta. Her schoolfellows were looking on, not quite sure whether to applaud or be scandalised, when suddenly she paused with a cry of delight, dashed through the circle, and flew across the lawn. She had seen a well-known figure coming down the drive, and was rushing ^'ADJDIO, MY PlCCOLXr' 49 towards it. The next moment, the assembled schoolgirls saw her fling herself into the arms of a tall youth, liucfOTno him, and almost crying with joy over him. Ino lauf]^hed and reddened a little, observinir the many curious faces gazing towards them with undisimised amazement, as he took her hand, and together they walked down the drive. " My Piccola is not a bit more staid as yet, I see," he remarked in his own tons^ue. " And yet, Detta, you look quite a young lady with that grand flounced dress, and your hair twisted up in the English style. You see, little one, I have kept my word, and come to say good-bye to you once more before I go." She looked up tearfully into his face. " Is it the last time, Ino ? Do you leave to-morrow ? " " I return to-morrow. And so those are your schoolfellows, carina ? They are pretty signorine, but they are inquisitive," and he blushed again slightly. For in Italy, youths of seventeen are sometimes possessed of their VOL. T. 4 50 ly THE OLD PALAZZO. share of modest}^, and are not always case- hardened men of the world. They were now approaching the front door ; and at this moment, a carriage drove rapidly past, and drew up before them. Out of it stepped a stout, good-looking lady of some forty-five summers, who stared hard at the couple, as she entered the house. " Must we go in ? " enquired Detta, wist- fully, seeing that her companion was about to follow. "I must be polite to the esteemed lady, thy teacher," said Eaffaello ; " and then I will request permission for thee to take a walk with me.*' Poor ignorant Ino and Detta ! They little suspected with what astonishment such a proposal would be received, nor how impossible it was, according to the laws of the Medes and Persians, as held at Somerville Lawn, to permit one of its inmates, however juvenile, to be seen walk- ing out with an acquaintance of the opposite sex. When the pair entered the drawing-room, ''ADDIO, MY PICCOLAl" 51 still liand-in-liand, tliey found themselves in the presence of the stout, comely visitor, earnestly conversing with Miss Horton, the head of the establishment. The latter glanced up, and frowned a little at first in astonish- ment upon the foreign-looking young man. But no one, not even an elderly school- mistress, could glance twice at the face of Eaffaello Bartolucci, without succumbing to the fascination of its singular beauty. The innate grace, too, of his moments, struck both ladies, as he bowed low, unable to speak a word of English, but showing a faultless line of white teeth in the smile which was so full of a caressing courtesy. The conversation had to be carried on in French, which Eaffaello spoke a little with a good accent, and Miss Horton fluently with a vile accent. But before it had commenced, the schoolmistress beckoned Detta towards her. " This is your niece, Mrs. Wilding," she said. " She is quite a little foreigner as yet." " And the young man ? " asked Mrs. Wild- 4* 62 IN TaE OLD PALAZZO. ing, raising her eye-glasses with a good- humoured stare towards Ino. "That is the— ahem! — young gentleman who brought her over — a friend or connection of the Mr. Cortauld who appears to have taken charge of her since her father's death." But Benedetta, who had come forward un- willingly enough, now raised her large eyes towards the lady's face, and joined in un- invited. " That is Eaffaello Bartolucci," she said. "He is going back to Eome to-morrow, and he has come to say good-bye to me. Are you one of my aunts ? " she ended abruptly. Mrs. Wilding put her arm around the child's waist. The straio'htforwardness of Detta's manner, joined to the pretty pathetic sound of her stumbling English, touched her heart, which was not an unkindly one. " Yes," she said ; " I am your aunt Fanny — Mrs. Wilding. Have you heard of me ? " " The Maestro told me about you," said Benedetta solemnly. " He told me I had two aunts, both very good and kind." And her « ABB 10, MY PIC CO LA ! " 53 eyes sou2flit those of tlie elder lady softly, as if to test tlie truth of this assertion. " Poor little waif ! " muttered Mrs. Wilding compassionately, half to herself ; " I wouldn't trust much to the other aunt's kindness, if I were you." From which it will be seen that the senti- ments held by the two half-sisters to one another was not of a very cordial nature ; and that Mrs. Wilding was in the habit of expressing her opinion on the subject of Lady Dumbarton's merits pretty freely. She looked at Detta earnestly, and im- planted a kiss upon the smooth cheek, her own features softenim? under the recollection of the brother that had been loved — once, long ago. " You have your father's nose and mouth," sh3 said m9ditativel3^ " The rest of your face is Italian — your mother's, I suppose." And she gave a little impatient sigh, as she dismissed her reminiscences and recalled the usual expression of careless good-humour to her face. But Benedetta's thoughts had returned to 54 I,T THE OLD PALAZZO. EafTaello and the proposed walk. And bitter was lier disappointment wlien she found that permission was to be denied, and that lier parting with Ino must be at once. Indeed the young man, perceiving that his conge was expected, and that by delaying his departure he was but prolonging Detta's distress, rose to go almost immediately upon the decision of the schoolmistress being made known to him. " Good-bye, my Piccola," he said, holding out his hand and leading the child to the window a few yards off ; " what shall I tell the Maestro F That you will try to like Eng- land and learn your lessons well, for the sake of him and your dead father ? " " I will try, I will try, Ino," she sobbed softly ; " but, oh ! it is very hard." " It will be better when I am gone," he said. " You have a brave spirit, Piccola ; you will fight it out and soon be happy. But if at any time you are in truth miserable, and want anything, write to Ino, and he will do what he can for you." " Ah ! and you will tell m.e if the Maestro •« ADDIO, MY net OL X ! " 53 is ill, or if lie wants me back again ? " she asked, clinging tightly to him. '^ I will. Carina. Addio, Addio ! " It was hard for those who for years had wandered abont together through the sunny ways of old Eome as brother and sister, to have to part thus before the inquisitive eyes of strangers. But Detta, at least, had for- gotten the presence of spectators as she flung herself for the last time into EafTaellino's arms. She could not speak, for her tears chokea her ; but, as he bent his tali head, she pressed her fresh childish lips again and again to his cheek, while he whispered tenderly in her ear : " Good-bye, good-bye, my Piccola — my little sweetheart ! " The next moment he had gently disengaged himself, and with a cloudy look in his soft Italian eyes, had drawn himself up before the two ladies, made a low bow to each, and with a OTaceful wave of his hand, had left the room. But as the door closed, Detta for the first time fully realised her forlorn position 5Q IN 'HIE OLD PALAZZO. as an orphaned stranger in a foreign land, and flinging herself down by the window seat, regardless both of schoolmistress and aunt, she burst into a paroxysm of sobs. " Benedetta," said Miss Horton, " leave off crying, and come here." T]ie cool calm tone of authority fell upon the child's excitement like the touch of ice» and she checked her sobs suddenly and proudly. " Come here," echoed Mrs, Wilding, " and dr}^ your eyes, like a good child." Detta obeyed slowly and reluctantly. " You must not be so miserable, my dear," said her aunt, with a well-meant effort at con- solation ; "it is very sad to say good-bye to one's friends, I know, but everyone will be very kind to you here, and j^ou will soon be as happy as the day is long. And, 3^ou know, you are come to your own relations ; those Italian people have not really an5^thing to do with you. You must be English now, and try to remember that j^our father was a Campbell." Benedetta regarded her solemnly and sadly. '' ABDIO, MY PICCOLAr' 57 gathering witli some difficulty the drift of her words. " You do not ask me to forget Ino and the Maestro ? " she enquired earnestly. " Who is the Maestro ? " returned her mystified aunt. "He is the Signor Cortauld — my father's friend — my master and father." " Ah, yes ! " said Mrs. Wilding, " the fiddler poor Ned took a fancy to. I daresay he is a good sort of old fellow." The colour mounted slowly into Benedetta's cheeks. The tone was patent enough to her quick understanding, although she w^as not capable of appreciating the slighting nature of the words used. " He is the great music man — the primo violino," she said ; " there is none in Eome better than he is." Mrs. Wilding smiled. " And this boy, this Eaffaello, what do you call him — what is he ? The old man's son ? " " Ah, no. He is of Eome- — a Bartolucci — he is 'Nunciata's son." 58 7.V THE OLD PALAZZO " And wlio on earth is 'Nunciata ? " " She was my nurse — she takes care of us, and cooks for the Maestro." " Good heavens ! " ejaculated Mrs. Wilding ; " that elegant-looking young man ! And does he cook too ? " Detta gave her a glance of grave reproof. " He is a sculptor," she replied ; he will be a great artist— now he but works in a studio " " And so you two have been brought up together ? " enquired her aunt. " Well, well, all that can be put straight now. Thank goodness, it's a good many hundred miles from here to Eome. You must r-ome and see us at Midsummer, Detta. Your cousin Eveleen will be very glad to see you, though she is several years older than you. By that time," she concluded injudicious^, " you will be quite an Englishwoman, I hope." A spark of fire leapt into Benedetta's eyes. " I will always be Italian," she said impetu- ously. " Sempre, sempre ! And I will ntver forget Eoma, nor EafTaello ! " " ADD 10, MY PI ceo LA /" 59 " You forget yourself, Benedetta ! " said the schoolmistress. But Mrs. Wilding turned an amused face towards her. " A fiery little Eoman ! " she said good- humouredly. " But it was just her father's way. He had just the same high spirit." The child softened instantly. " Am I as my father ? " she asked eagerly. " Oh, I am happy ; I wish to be as him." Mrs. Wilding was touched, and held out her arms to her fatherless, motherless niece. Benedetta crept shyly into them ; and thus the first link — a slight one — was forged between the ' little foreigner ' and her new relations. *"^ ^ x-itrv" CHAPTEE Y. THE HONOURABLE BERESEORD. CHEISTMAS was near at hand. There was a severe frost, and the trees surrounding Ashley Manor were bending under their weight of snow. The short December day was nearly over, and twilight was coming on. Within the house all was light, warmth and cheerfulness, pervaded by the bustle conse- quent on an arrival. There was, perhaps, no house in the county better furnished than the Manor — furnished with taste and conveni- ence — all about it was snug and cosy, and, although neither imposing in size nor in the ex- tent of its grounds, it was one of the j)rettiest little properties in that part of the countr3\ The late owner, Mr. Wilding, had been a man of cultivation, a lover of ease and a dilletante in art, who had collected together pretty THE IIOyOUBABLE BERESFORD. 61 tilings from all parts of tlie world, and lavished money freely upon tlie embellishment of his home. He had been accounted wealthy, but was more probably one of those men who, spending every penny of their means, and concerning themselves but little about those who come after them, manage to make a moderate income sufficient for their not immoderate wants. At any rate, upon his death, some fifteen years ago, Mrs. Wilding had found it necessary to retrench expenses to a considerable extent. Her town house had been given up, and she had also put down several horses, contenting herself with a pair of ponies and one old carriage horse for night work. But she had by no means relinquished her position as a woman of fashion, and, so soon as the period of mourning was over, had resumed her place in society, dining out and giving dinners as before ; subsequently, when a few years later, her daughter was introduced, taking her to all the county balls and gaieties of every description patronised by the upper ten. She had even managed, the first year or so, after Eveleen's presentation at Court, to 62 ly THE OLD PALAZZO. hire a little house for the London season, plunging the girl into the vortex of that period of dissipation, during which it was reported that she had been much admired ; but had discontinued this proceeding, finding it bear too heavily upon an income at all times strained to its utmost limits. Eveleen Wilding was a pretty girl. At seven-and-twenty she was probably prettier than when, at seventeen, she made her curtesy before Eoyalty. She was fair, with light brown hair and blue eyes. A severe critic might have thought her features a trifle too sharp, but he could not have quarrelled with her complexion, which was lovely, nor with the daintiness of her short, slight figure. The habitual expression of her face was, like her mother's, one of good-humoured indifference mixed with a keen sparkle of fun. Yet there were times when it would light up with sympathetic animation, or, more rarely, relax into a momentary wistful sadness. She was always dressed in the height of the fashion, and with her good looks and bright, clever tongue, was a universal favourite, both in TUB IIOXOURABLE BERESFOBD. 63 general society and in tlie many county houses at wliicli both she and her mother were in the habit of stopping. Many people wondered why, ere this, Eveleen Wilding had not made a good match with someone or other, and settled down into a home of her own. Some said tlia't she was too particular, others that her rather sharp tongue frightened away intending suitors, and others again that she was waiting for her cousin, the Honorable Beresford Conway. Certainly Mr. Beresford Conway was an extremely eligible young man. The second son of an earl, with an independent fortune, an elegant appearance and fashionable manners, it was scarcely to be wondered at if society made much of him, and agreed in proclaiming him i\\Q parti par excellence of the county — an opinion in which, malicious persons averred, he himself fully concurred. Be this as it may, there is no doubt that Mr. Conway had an extremely good opinion of himself. From childhood he had been told that he was handsome, clever and agreeable, whilst facts assured him that he was rich and well born. His elder brother, the future earl, 64 m THE OLD PALAZZO. was a man of shallow understanding and infirm health. Beresford was neither, and from this cause it perhaps naturally resulted that both his friends and himself should over-rate his merits. He was sociable, too, a good dancer, and (some people said) a good talker, a tidy shot and a fair fisherman — sufficiently athletic to be popular amongst the muscular youth of his generation, and sufficiently indifferent to ladies' society to be agreeable to all and pay parti- cular attentions to none. He was a welcome visitor at most houses, but in none was he more frequently seen than at Ashley Manor. Mrs. Wildino^ had been his mother's first cousin, and on the strength of this relation- ship he made a sort of home of her house ^ assisting her at every social event, and usually spending his Christmas there. The present Countess of Courthope was not much to his taste. She was his step-mother — his own mother having died when he was a youth — and a woman of low extraction ; and perceiv- ing it impossible to get on with her, and con- sequently with the old earl, his father, Mr. THE HONOURABLE BERESFORD. 65 Conway found it more convenient to divide his life betwixt liis club in town and his cousin's ever hospitable house. The outside world had for long imagined a tenderness between Beresford and Eveleen Wilding. They were mistaken however in their estimate of the feeling that existed between the two cousins. There was indeed strong regard on both sides, but no love-making either in the present or the past, and Mrs. Wilding, whose desire for the match was, said the uncharit- able world, vulgarly patent, and who scarcely as 3^et realised the brotherly and sisterly senti- ments entertained by the two, was beginning in despair to relinquish her long cherished hope. In one of the pretty rooms upstairs, Miss Wilding now stood with her foot on the fen- der, talking eagerly to the new arrival. " You can't think how glad I am to have you back for good and all. Delta," she was saying. "You will have to live with us alto- gether, you know, now that you have done with that tiresome school. We shan't let Aunt Dumbarton get too much of you, I can tell you. I have wanted a companion all my life, VOL. I. 5 66 7.V THE OLD PALAZZO. and now tliat I have got one in my old age, T shan't let her go in a linrry ! " " You are ver}^ nice to say so," said Detta gratefully. " Let me look at you, child. You have grown much better-looking than you were last time I saw you. I flatter m3^self our foreign cousin will be something of a county lion this winter." " And 3^ou," said Detta smiling, as the colour rose softly to her cheeks, " you are foolish as ever, Eva carina ! " " That's the very thing ! " exclaimed her companion. " The little soupcon of a foreign accent puts the finishing touch to your fasci- nations, my dear Detta." Benedetta gave an impatient movement. " Do be sensible," she said. " Tell me wdio are coming here, and if you shall be very gay : " Gay, my dear ? Yes, we are always gay after a fashion, in winter, or when there is any gaiety to be had. A few people are coming to dinner to-night, as I told you, and I have teased Mama into giving a regular dance after TILE HON OUU ABLE BERESFORD. 07 Christmas. That is for your benefit. I want you to come out with a flourish of trumpets. You are young and pretty and half foreign. You must be beautifully dressed, and I shall tell everybody that you are an heiress, and that your mother was a Eoman princess. Then you will have all the world at your feet, and can pick and choose the best man in the county at your pleasure." " Why do you talk in that way, Eva ? You know you don't mean to tell people lies." " Oh, my dear child, don't be so frightfully pragmatical and prosaic." " Well, then," continued Detta, " 3^ou don't consider the best man in the county a neces- sity for my happiness ? " " As to that," remarked Eva, " I don't know that I consider man in any form an absolutely essential ingredient in the cup of domestic happiness. But goodness gracious ! my dear Benedetta, you must not imbibe your ideas from me, a soured old spinster. With most people a good match is the sine-qud-non of bliss." " You scarcely look like a soured old maid," 5* 68 7.V THE OLD PALAZZO. said Detta, stroking the smootli braids of her companion's fair hair with a half maternal touch. " Don't I ? Well, perhaps not the typical old maid. She will soon be represented here by our dear friend, Miss Sparke. Aunt Dum- barton won't stir a step witnout her ; and so — woe betide us ! we've got to take them both in for Christmas. It will be a lively time, will it not, with aunt Dumbarton and her severe looks, and Miss Sparke and her little tracts ? ' Mark of the Beast,' I call her. Beresford cahs her the ' Vital Spark of Heavenly light.' She's anything but heavenly to my mind. But I shall manage to exist tliis winter, with you and Beresford to support me on either side. Mama will be the one to be pitied. Aunt Dumbarton has not yet found out that she is too old to be reformed, and lectures her un- ceasingly every moment she has her to herself. Yon don't know Beresford, do you, Detta ? " " No, but I have heard of him." " Oh, of course," said Eva carelessly ; " every one has heard of Beresford Con- way." THE IIOXOU LIABLE BEBE:sFORB. 69 " Is he so very celebrated ? " asked Delta, whether serious or sarcastic Eveleeii was un- certain. " Celebrated ? Well, every man of his sort is celebrated in the sense that all the people worth knowinix know him, and all the others want to know him. He shall take you in to dinner to night, Miss Prim, and then you shall find out for yourself — if you have the knack of drawing him out — whether he cannot make himself very fairl}^ agreeable. It is verj^ good of me to rehnquish him, for I find him much better company than Sir Peter Gallowa}^ or any other of the country fogies coming this evenimr. Thank o^oodness Aunt Dumbarton doesn't arrive with her Vital Sparke till to- morrow." " She has been kind to me," remarked Detta, musingly. " I don't like Miss Sparke ; I think she is sly ; but Lady Dumbarton is honest — though she is sometimes harsh, and very par- ticular." " She has taken one of her solemn fancies to you, my dear. It is a great mercy, because, if you are clever, you may perhaps some day 70 7iV 'dUE OLD PALAZZO. cut out the ubiquitous Sparke, — to whom I have always expected her to leave her money, if it doesn't go to the Tract Society — and may at some future date wake up to find yourself a real heiress and possessor of some of those many thousands of hers now lying idle in Coutts' bank. I have long ago given up all hopes of getting a penny of it myself — though Mama does go on, with such heroic self-abne- gation, putting up with the old wet blanket, for the sake of what she may do for me in her will — so you need not mind thinking of me. It would soothe my last moments, I verily be- lieve, if I could see the Vital Sparke trotting out into the cold the day after Aunt Dumbar- ton's funeral." Detta smiled; but there was a look -of puzzled enquiry in her eyes as the}^ rested upon her cousin, not unnoticed by the latter. " My dear," she said, " you will have to grow used to me. I often say things out which other people keep in, but you mustn't, from that fact, deduce the assumption that I am particularly honest, or you will find your- i THE IIOX DURABLE BERESFORB. 71 self at fault again. I am only honest when it amuses me or pleases me ; and can fib in society with the best of 'tliem, when I am in the mood." Detta was silent. She was gazing thought- fully into the fire, and made no response to her companion's light talk. Eveleen presently jumped up. "There is a fuss in the hall now," she said. " It must be Beresford. He always brings about fifty-two packages, including portmanteaux, hat-boxes, and gun-cases. I must go down and give him his cup of tea, or I shall be in his bad graces. Good-bye, Detta. I shall send Susan up to help you in half-an-hour. Mind you put on a becoming dress and be down in good time." Detta remained seated before the fire, silently gazing into the red heart of the cheerful glow, for some time after her cousin had left her. It was now six years since that winter when Benedetta Campbell, a little Eoman maid, had landed with EafFaello Bartolucci on the English shores, which seemed to her as those of a foreign land. She had then been barely 72 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. twelve ; she was now eighteen. Tlicse six years had transformed her from a shy, half- peasant child, Italian in speech and manner, to a slim, fair-faced English girl, who yet bore many traces of the old Detta about her, and in whose soft dark eyes and coils of raven hair lay the unmistakeable tokens of her mother's nationality. As a child, Benedetta had not been unat- tractive in appearance, but she had scarcely promised to bud forth into so sweet a specimen of womanhood. It was not tliat she was strictly beautiful ; her features, although well-formed, w^ere not without their minor defects ; but there was a nameless grace about her movements, a pretty dignity in her carriage, and an expression, half proud, half eager, upon her mobile young face that counted for even more than symmetry of outline in the sum of her personal attractions. She smiled now to herself as she sat musing over the fire, and her smile had the rich, full tenderness which floods a southern-featured countenance so much more readily and nataraljy than it does the more stiffly moulded THE HONOURABLE B Ell ES FORD. 73 northern one. Her reflections seemed pleasant ; and she was humming a little song merrily as she rose and began to make her preparations for the evening's gathering. Eveleen meanwhile, downstairs, was pouring out the coffee and handing it to a tall man who lay lazily stretched out at his ease in one of the low easy chairs, his feet to the blaze. " Well, what news, Beresford ? " she enquired. " Family or social ? '' demanded her cousin, speaking in the deliberate tone usual to him, and which some of his male companions unkindly termed a drawl. " Oh, begin with the family, of course," said Eveleen. " Well," said Beresford, sipping his coffee, " Fred is gone over to Eome — not the faith, but the city — for the winter." " What took him there ? " asked Mrs Wildinfif. Fred was the elder brother, the future earl. "I think," said Mr. Conway, "it must have been Miss Alicia Jones that took him there. She is come in for twenty thousand pounds, 74 m TUE OLD PALAZZO, and I fancy Fred thinks she would do for the future Lady Carleton. Or, perhaps it was that our respected stepmother has just added a couple of pugs to her stock in trade of pomeranian curs, and the pugs don't like Fred. So that he has got an excuse for absenting himself from the paternal roof for Christmas. But I don't know ; it may be something else." " You never do know anything, Beresford," said Eveleen ; " according to your own account at least." " A positive man is a nuisance," was the calm reply, " and it's underbred to know more than your neighbours choose to tell you. But I always know one thing, Eva ; I know when I am comfortable." " Which you are now ? " inquired Mrs. Wilding with affectionate solicitude. "It is always comfortable here," replied Mr. Conway with evident sincerity. Mrs. Wilding gave a smile of gratified feeling at this announcement, whilst Eveleen exclaimed : " You are wonderfully flattering to-night, TEE HONOURABLE BERESFORD. 75 Beresford, and talkative too. I liaven't lieard you put together so many consecutive words for several years. But now for tlie social news ? " " Haven't got any," lie replied. " People are being married, and born, and dying pretty much as usual, I suppose, but to no particular interest to anybody but themselves. It's your turn now." " Well," said Eveleen, " I can give you one piece of bad news, and one of good. The bad is that Aunt Dumbarton and her precious companion have made up their minds to come here for Christmas ; the good is that Benedetta Campbell has left school and will be with us too. You don't speak, Beresford. What are you thinking of ? " "I am thinking of Aunt Dumbarton," replied Mr. Conway. " She is a subject for reflection." " She is a subject for bad language, I think," retorted Eva. " It will be quite a happy family gathering. Cousin Fanny, I congratulate you." " It is hard, is it not ? " asked Mrs. Wilding 76 2 A THE OLD PALAZZO. patlietically. "She sits upon me from morning till night, even in my own house. I shall never have a moment's peace while she is here." " Yes," remarked Eva, " there is always something wanting correction. Either our heels are too liioii or our tuckers are too low ; the hoasemaid is flippant, or the cook does not understand her sauces. Aunt Dumbarton's long nose can always sniff out something wrong." " And so the Vital Sparke is coming,'' mused Mr. Conway. " Siie is a very terrible woman. You should have forewarned me, cousin Fanny ; she is ahvays trying to convert me, and I am not sure that she doesn't mean to marry me as well." "I was afraid if I did forewarn you," laughed Mrs. Wilding, " that you would'nt come, and Eveleen and I really could not liave existed through the ordeal without some one pleasant in the house to keep our spirits "Ah," said Mr. Conway, "selfishness is at the root of most of the actions of woman." TEE II 0X0 UE ABLE BERESFORD. 77 " There," said Eveleen, " don't moralize ! You have not asked me yet about Benedetta. Don't you want to know what she is like ? " " J^ot particularly," wirh a yawn. " Have you no curiosity about this half- foreign cousin ? " " I am never curious," remarked Beresford ; " it is too great an exertion." " I wonder," observed Eveleen, laughing, " if you ever took an exertion, mental or physical, in your life ? " " Never when I could help it." " Ah, well," said his cousin impatientl}^ " you men can be like that — at least when you have money ; 3^ou have nothing to do but to sit still and float through life, and everybody thinks you charming." Mr. Conway smiled complacently. " There is no necessit}^, that I can see," he remarked, " for w^omen to be kicking up a fuss about every little thing, as they do. Excitement seems necessary to the female constitution. It's fatal to mine." " As that's the case," remarked Eveleen, " I shall not give you an inventory of 78 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. Benedetta's charms, but leave you to find them out for yourself. That will be quite sufficient for your weak nerves." " Let me know at once what is expected of me," he said, putting down his coffee cup. " Am I to succumb to this foreign young person ? " " You had better not be too sure of your- self in this case," remarked Eveleen ; " it is quite possible that Detta may be the one girl in the world to resist ijour fascina- tions." " Saving and excepting you," he returned calmly, watching with a languid interest the pretty little blush which flitted across his cousin's face. " It won't do, my dear Eveleen, it really won't. You must give up this match-making hobby of yours ; I'm not a marrying man. Try Sir Peter Galloway now for your protegee'' " Sir Peter Galloway ! " she exclaimed scornfully. " He has about as much brains as a rabbit, and cares for nothing but his stable and his dinner." " Hush, hush, my dear Eva ! " said her THE HONOURABLE BEUESFORD. 79 mother. " There are many worse youncr fellows. He has no vices, and is well oil ; and every girl does not want a senior wranoler for her husband." " Detta would'nt put up with a muff," re- marked Eveleen. " Besides," said her cousin, " Sir Peter is booked to 3^ou, Eva. He adopts — a — the complexion of a damask rose so soon as you enter the room." " I never see any difference in his com- plexion," she retorted ; " it is always that of a carrot." Mrs. Wilding looked a little annoyed. She had made up her mind, that, if the Conway alliance proved abortive, the Galloway alliance would not be amiss. Why would Eva always set herself against everything tending to her own welfare ? " You are never satisfied, Eva," she remarked. " Why must you pick holes in everybody? You will live to be an old maid, as I say." " Very well, mama ; it is highly probable. Certain, I may say, if Sir Peter is the alterna- 80 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. tive. The wife after Sir Peter's heart is his own cook." "And I," remarked her cousin, " will be an old bachelor, Eveleen ; and when we are both ancient enough to make it quite proper, I will come and join you, and we will keep house together. Don't look disturbed, cousin Fanny, we will take you in too. Or, better still, why don't you — a — marry Sir Peter yourself ? " From which it will be perceived that the Honourable Beresford, made much of ever}^- where, was more especially spoilt and permitted to take liberties by the ladies of Ashley Manor. V-isV CHAPTER YI. MY rOTlFJGN COUSIN. WHEN", an hour later, Benedetta entered her aunt's drawing-room, she found it fairly filled with guests. There were elderly and middle-aged couples, with and without daughters, a bachelor clerg3mian, and a big young man of rubicund countenance who was laying down the law upon local matters in rather a loud voice. There was also another man standing? silently beside the mantel-piece, apparently divided between a calm admiration of the fit of his own evening pumps and an anxious de- sire to avoid the eye and conversation of his r.oisy neighbour. Eveleen touched this one gently on the arm. " Here, Beresford," she said, " go and talk to Detta. She knows nobody, and 3'ou can take her down to dinner. Detta, this is my VOL, I. () 82 I,Y 211 E OLD PALAZZO. cousin, Mr. Beresford Conway — Miss Bene- detta Campbell." Detta glanced up and saw before lier a muscular, well-made man, faultlessly dressed, liis hair and moustache so fair as to be almost flaxen, and his blue-grey eyes expressive of a half- weary look, only partially relieved by a slight touch of humour perceptible at the corners of the mouth. Conway glanced down, and saw a tall, shght girl, of a graceful pre- sence, whose fine eyes were regarding him with a critical scrutiny which was certainly not bold, but which somehow he felt to be a little unusual. Detta's gaze however lasted only for a mo- ment. She was disappointed in this cousin Beresford, of whom she had heard so much. The impression he made upon her was that of a somewhat conceited and languid person ; and his height and good looks went for little in consequence. There was a pause, for Mr. Conway, who acted upon the principle of usually shirking any social duty when there was a reasonable hope that others might be induced to under- MF FOUEIGX CO US IX. 83 take it, was in the habit, as a rule successfully, of leaving the conversation to be started by a new acquaintance. Only on finding that Detta did not speak, did he rouse himself to make some opening remark. He remembered that Eveleen had told him her cousin was fresh from school ; and although Miss Campbell by no means bore the appearance of a bread-and- butter school-girl, yet he decided that her silence must be due to shyness. " You are new to these dissipations, I sup- pose ? " he said, a tone of gentle patronage pervading his drawl. " Is this dissipation ? " she asked. " Yes, it is my first dinner-party." "Well — ah," said Conway, insensibly changing his tone " You are right. It isn't much of a festivity, is it ? " " I don't know," she replied, " as I never was at one before. But I daresay it depends a good deal on who takes you in." "True," he replied. "I believe I am to have that honour. I am afraid you will find me — a — very dull." If he expected a polite disclaimer, he was 6* 81 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. not disappointed ; and yet somehow it caused liim to scrutinise liis scliool-girl companion a little closer than he had yet cared to do, to see if it were possible she were making fun of him. " Eveleen told me," she remarked gravely, " thai I should find 3^ou agreeable." " My cousin Eveleen has, I fear, too flatter- ing an estimate of my powers," he replied after a pause. "But," she continued, equally demurely, " she also said you required drawing out." " Very true," he observed. " Strangers don't guess how bashful I am." " Then I am afraid," she said, " we shall not get on well together, for I don't know how to draw people out." She smiled as she spoke, a smile the origin of which perhaps was not too flattering to her neighbour. He, however, cared little for a school-girl's gentle mockery, and only saw the sudden beauty with which it flooded the dark eyes and softened with bright warmth and colour every feature of the expressive face ; and for a moment he roused himself JUY FOREIGN CO US J Y. 85 from his usual nonclialance to say something polite. " You need never be at any pains to draw out your friends, Miss Campbell," he observed ; " the veriest hermit crab would come out of his shell if you smiled upon him." Benedetta made no reply, and the little word of flattery called up no blush to her smooth cheek. ' The Italian speech is flowery,' said Mr. Conway to himself, unaccustomed to have his rare compliments received so calmly ; ' pretty speeches are, I suppose, a necessary part of every-day dialogue in the south.' " You are Italian, are you not. Miss Camp- bell? " he inquired presently. " My mother was a Eoman." " How delightful ! Eoman society is very exclusive, is it not ? " " I do not know. I was only twelve years old when I left my home. And my mother was the daughter of a shopkeeper." Conway glanced at her for a moment out of his languid eyes. Was this simplicity natural, or was it but the affectation of a 86 IN THE OLD PALAZZO, pretty sincerity adopted with an eye to effect ? Whichever it were, the remark silenced him ; and he felt relieved that the announcement of dinner served as a convenient break in the conversation. At dinner Mr. Conway again found it neces- sar}^' to exert himself to an unusual degree, for his companion had less to say for herself than most young ladies of her age, and yet wore an air of intelligence that seemed intended to arouse him to a sense of his own responsibili- ties. She appeared also to be taking mental notes of all that went on around her, and he observed her gaze directed more than once across the table towards where her cousin sat beside Sir Peter Galloway. " That is a fine young man, is it not ? " re- marked Beresford, glancing towards the latter and then letting his half -shut eyes revert to his companion. " Fine ? In what way ? " " Well — a — big, and stout, and red — plenty of him, you know." " I suppose," she said dubiously, after a pause, " those might be considered recom- 31 Y FOR max COUSIX. 87 inenclations by some people, but it sounds as if you were talking of prize beef " " He is well off and a baronet — a prize, and rather beefy," he said languidly. " He is your consul's adorer. Miss Campbell. Don't you think it would do ? " " No, indeed ! " she exclaimed. " He is not half o^ood enou^^h for Eva." " Poor Sir Peter, he admires her hugel3^" "• Everyone must admire her," remarked l^enedetta, " she is so pretty and so clever and so kind. Do you think much of Sir Peter ? " "I? Well, he is not perhaps — a — exactly my idea of manly perfection." " You can see," she said, " from her face, that Eva thinks nothing of liim. Look at the mocking expression in her eyes. She is laugh- ing at him all the time." '^ I think," said Conwa}^, " my cousin mocks at every man she knows." '' Oh ! no, she doesn't. I never heard her mock at you." "Indeed?" he inquired, with a feeble in- terest. But in his heart he was sorry that she 88 IX THE OLD PALAZZO. should sa}^ it. He was so miicli accustomed to flattery from women of every age and rank that he was conscious of a faint wish that it had not proceeded from his companion's lips. It detracted somewhat from the unusual fresh- ness of the impression she had made upon him that she should begin, like everybody else, to make much of him. Her next sentence, how- ever, was not so politely worded, and took him a little aback. " Scarcely ever," she amended, " and never unkindly. But then, perhaps, that is because we <2frow used to the failim^s of those we are nmcli with." " Ah ! exactly," he returned drih^ " In that case, if Eva married Sir Peter she would soon get over his little foibles." Benedetta glanced at him in grave surprise. " Why should you be so anxious to marry Eva ? " she asked. He gave an almost imperceptible start. " I? " he repeated. " Anxious to marry my Cousin Eva to anyone? V>y no means! I And this house far too pleasant." After which, finding she relapsed into MY FOR EI ay COUSIN. 81) silence, he began to devote himself to his other neighbour, giving, however, an occa- sional side glance in the direction of the slim, white figure, and noting with undefined ap- probation the graceful pose of the little head, slightly bent forward as it was in an attitude attentively observant of the scene around her. Dinner over and the gentlemen once more in the drawing-room, Conway paid no more attention to Miss Campbell, but gave himself up to his cousin Eva, turning over the pages of her music as she played, successfully cut- ting out Sir Peter in his somewhat heavy attempts at doing the agreeable, and later on, dropping with an air of innocent unconscious- ness into the low chair beside Miss Wilding, towards which that gentleman was obviously making his way. He did not even offer the same attentions to Benedetta when she rose to comply with her aunt's request for a song. He was absently turning over the pages of a photograph album as the clear, full notes of her rich young voice swept through the room, and he was perhaps the only person 90 /iV THE OLD PALAZZO. present that, at the close of the song, did not, murmur an enthusiastic word of thanks. "Well," said Eveleen, when, an hour or two later, the compan}^ having all departed, and Benedetta retired to her room, she and her mother delayed for a moment, chatting over the drawing-room fire with Mr. Conway, " and how did 3^ou two get on together at dinner ? " " We took the usual number of courses, and we asked each other the usual number of fatiguing questions," he returned; "both being well-bred people." " Don't be tiresome, Beresford. Now, don't you think Detta a charming girl, quite different from the common run ? " " A little different, perhaps. She does not chatter unceasingly, nor yet keep unceasing silence, as is the case, one wa}^ or the other, with most school-girls." " She is original, is she not ? " " My dear Eva, don't ask me to believe in originality. It is a delusion. It merely means affectation, or a forced eff'ort of self-conscious wit. The onh^ really" (I am afraid Mr. ]UY FOREIGN" COUSIX. 91 Conway pronounced it ' weally ') " original person I ever knew wns a man who never would take liis umbrella with him on wet days for fear of wearing it out — and he has gone into a kmatic asylum. Unless," he added reflectively, " one may count the case of another fellow I know, who is, T believe, sincerely fond of his mother in-law." " Eeally, Beresford," laughed Mrs. Wilding, " you prophes}^ what our American friends call good times for me, in case Eva ever marries." " That question, 3^ou know, mamma," said Eveleen, as her cousin held a spill to light her candle, " is already settled." Meanwhile, Benedetta was seated upstairs before her bedroom fire. She had taken from her trunk a letter which now lay in her lap, and, with her long black hair unbound and hanging over her shoulders, her warm dressing- gown folded closely round her, and her little feet thrust into fur slippers, sat gazing into the flames with an expression half smiling, half sad. Presently she took the letter up ao-ain and read it once more throu^rh. It 92 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. bore the Eoman post-mark, but was written in Enjzlisli in a tremblincf hand, which ran unevenly up and down the page, making it sometimes difficult to decipher the words. Benedetta, however, nearly knew it off b}^ heart, although it had only reached her three days before. " Eome, December 1 5tli. " Mia carissima Piccola, — I wonder if you are that any longer ? I fancy you to myself now a tall, well-grown English maiden, with, however, a warm corner of 3'our heart filled whh the remembrance of the Eome that was your home till six 3^ears ago. I can scarcely realise that it is indeed so long since 3^ou left us, and that my wild impulsive little Detta has probably become a staid accomplished young lady. It is a great pleasure to me, Piccola, to write to you in English. It is so many 3^ears since I had much to do with my own countr}^ and people, that it is a sort of refreshment to me to use words of intimacy in the old tomrue — even when it is onlv writ- ton words. But 3^ou are wise, m3^ child, to write to me in Italian, for though Ino has now 3IY FOREIGN COUSIN. 93 really a very fair smattering of English, yet I fear he would find it hard to make out for me a long letter written in the language. I know how glad you will be to hear how grandly Ino is getting on in his profession. He is a true artist, and has his whole heart and soul in his work, without which none can win success. He and I have long talks about you in leisure moments, and often wonder what sort of a young lady our little Detta has grown up into. We have been more than ever together since poor Annunciata's death, which EafFaello felt most keenly. Pippo too has really at last carried out his desire to emigrate, and set sail last Monday from Leg- horn for Australia. My good Annunciata's successor does not wish for lodgers, so I am turning out of the old room, but not, I am glad to say, out of the old house. I am re- moving to one upon the top piano, where Ino too can be accommodated beside me. It will feel strange at first, but I shall no doubt soon grow used to it, and the only serious drawback will be the loner fliorht of stairs, whenever one wants to taste the outside air. I have, how- 94 I.\ HIE OLD PALAZZO. ever, been leading ratlier an idle life of it lately, not being so strong as I used to be, and for the last month have been obliged to give up my place in the orchestra. I hope, how- ever to return to work soon ; and they are ready to take me back at any time. I have one bit of news for you. There is a chance — a faint one— of Ino coming over to visit England again. Signor Pancratzi, his master, is talkinof of sending him on some commission to London. If that be the case, what a pleasure it will be to him to renew his acquaint- ance with his old friend Detta. I hope your relations will not object to his calling upon you. I know my Piccola will be glad to see her former companion, and hear news of the old Maestro who thinks so often of her. From your letters, my child, I know what a joy will be a whifF of the iioman air, and almost as great a pleasure will be to me the return news of old England. Do not talk about coming back to me, child. Your place is amongst your English relations ; and so long as 3^ou satisfy them and are happy amongst them, I shall be MY FOREIGN COUSIN. 95 well content. Ino, when he comes, will tell you some details which I need not put on paper, regarding the little sum still left to you from the sale of your father's pictures, and other matters which we have talked over together. We shall see each other again some day, please God ; perhaps when my little Benedetta has married some fine English gentleman, and is passing through Italy on her wedding tour — who knows ? Never, however, be persuaded to forget, that though your father was of English birth, yet that your mother was also a Eoman of pure descent and of no unlearned family. A river- derci then ; and that God may bless and pre- serve my Detta is the prayer of her loving old Maestro, "Bernard CoKTAULD." Benedetta gazed at the trembling signature for a few moments ; then she raised the letter to her lips, and, with something of the old passionate ardour of her childish days, kissed it two, three times. Her eyes had filled with unshed tears as they passed over that part 96 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. which told of the musician's loss of strength, but they brightened with joy as they read of Ino's possible visit. Ah ! it would indeed be delicious to talk over the old home and life with her former companion. After the Maestro, Ino had been dearer to her than any other in those childish days of happy, un- taught freedom. 'pm CHAPTER VII. A SINCERE PEESON . rnHE following afternoon tlie liouseliold at I Ashley Manor was all agog with the arrival of Lady Dumbarton and her train. The train was not inconsiderable, consisting as it did of her companion, Miss Sparke, her maid and her toy terrier. Mrs. Wilding had been heard to say that, of this formidable quartette, each member was proportionately insufferable in the inverse ratio of his or her social importance. Her half-sister was trouble- some and annoying, Miss Sparke still more so, the lady's maid worse, and the almost invisibly small dog most of all so. Notwithstanding much previous preparation, a full hour, spent by the members of the family in ceaselessly running up and down stairs at the behest of one or more of the four, had elapsed before VOL. I. 7 98 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. the new arrivals appeared to have settled down in their separate apartments with any satis- faction to themselves. " I am sure," murmured Mrs. Wilding to her daughter, as, her patience nearly ex- hausted, she descended at last to the drawing- room to ring for afternoon tea, " I have given up the best room in the house, the one which Beresford always has, to your aunt, and yet she is not satisfied. There has been a lire in it all yesterday as well as to-day, but she de- clares it is damp, and complains of the fog. / don't make the fogs ! But your aunt always expects, when she comes into a hilly country in the middle of December, that she will find sunshine and an immaculate sky waiting for her. I suppose she orders her ow^n weather in Yorkshire. I can't understand," she con- tinued, poking the fire with a vigour which appeared somewhat to relieve her feelings, " how these very good people, who are always snapping up their neighbours on the score of their neglected souls, should make such a pre- cious fuss about the ease of their own persons. / take care of myself because I like my com- A SIX CERE PEItSON. 99 forts, and I say so, and I don't talk liiimbug about ' perishing cla}^' and ' vile bodies,' and sucli-like unpleasant nonsense. Yet even I don't make everyone miserable about me be- cause tlie sky is one colour wlien I fancy it another, nor do I wear out Christian legs to liunt up a particular kind of biscuit to suit the palate of a nasty little snarling dog." When, a few minutes later. Lady Dumbarton descended for her tea, the subject she selected for conversation was scarcely approached in a manner calculated to soothe the already irrita- ted feelings of her hostess. The slight fog, or the fatigue of the journey, appeared to have put out the guest, whose temper, never very equable, was this evening decidedly aggra- vating. Perhaps nothing annoyed Mrs. Wilding more than to have her domestic or social arrangements called in question ; and this her half-sister seemed determined to do after the most unsparing fashion. " Are we going to have a quiet, Christian Christmas day this year ? " enquired Lady Dumbarton, " or are you going to fill the house with a crowd of strangers? (Sparke, 100 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. Dandy wants to get np. Lift him on my knee." " Yes, my lady.") " We don't happen to be going to have any friends with us," replied Mrs. Wilding ; " but I have yet to learn, Maria, that hospitality is unchristian." " The season," remarked Lady Dumbarton, " is, as / understand it, a time for sacred thouG^ht, and not intended to be turned into a mad round of balls and dinner-parties." " Oh, well, I certainly have asked a few people to meet you at dinner on Thursday. Have you any objection? " " Of course I have no objection to make the acquaintance of any sensible, right-minded persons." " I don't pull my neighbours to pieces to find out what their moral consciousness is made of," observed Mrs. Wilding. " There is also a dance on the 28th. You had better know the worst at once." " You are aware," said her sister, " of my sentiments on those points. I consider all such entertainments as traps for the foolish A SIXCERE PERSON. 101 and unwary, and most pernicious to the young and innocent." " Oh, well, /don't," returned Mrs. Wilding shortly. " So there is no use in discussing the matter." "• None at all," said the other. " You must go your way, Fanny, and I must go mine. Bat we shall have to account for all our actions" " And for all our words," retorted her half- sister, whose temper, usually placid, appeared this afternoon to be tried beyond its powers. And Eveleen, seeing storm signals ahead, in- terposed. " Come, auntie, don't be so terribly severe," she said. " I have danced all my life, and I don't know that I am such a ver}^ immoral or perverted character. Young people must have a little fun, you know, and Detta has left school and is comino- out at our dance." " Oh ! it's for Detta's sake, is it ? " inquired her aunt. " Poor child, rescued from the errors of Eomanism in order to fall into the pit of this world's pomps and vanities ! " ''Well, as to vanities, I suppose we all have 102 ly THE OLD PALAZZO. those, Aunt Maria ; but I don't think mother and I go in much for worldly pomp. Besides, what could we do with Beresford Conway on our hands all the time, and nothing to amuse him ? " " Oh, he is here too, is he ? It is a matter of surprise to me, Fanny, how 3^ou can permit that idle, dissipated young man to hang about jonr house in the way you do. I assure you, it is much commented upon amongst our friends." " If one were to heed comments one would never do anything one liked. Beresford Con- way is not dissipated, and I have him here because I like him." " The outside world must be excused if it puts another motive down to you," remarked her half-sister unpleasantly. " Beresford Conway is a very good match, according to worldly reckonings." " Am I to dislike ever3^body who happens to be rich ? " demanded Mrs. Wilding. " Of course, I know it is very difficult for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven ; but still it is just p( ssible for a wealthy person to A SIXCERE PEKSOX. 103 bo also an estimable one — as, for instance, yourself, Maria." " I know 3^011 do not wish to hear what I have to say, Fanny," observed the other, " but I feel it my duty to speak plainly. All the more so, that it is clear the young man has no serious intentions whatever, and is simply spunging upon j^ou for the sake of his own convenience. You will merely render yourself ridiculous, if you do not put a limit upon his visits, as all the world will say you have tried to catch him for your daughter, and have failed." Eveleen jumped up, a sudden pink flush upon her fair cheeks. " Allow me, Aunt," she said, " to have a little voice in the matter. Let me state, once for all, for your satisfaction, that, although I am sincerely fond of my cousin, and he, I hope, of me, I have never entertained the smallest ambition towards what you call his intentions. And permit me also to say, that if the outside world thinks it impossible for any one to exercise hospitality towards a friend and relation without such motives, it 104 7.V THE OLD PALAZZO. is not only an uncharitable, but an exceed- ingly vulgar world." " I am sorry you should receive ray observations in such . a spirit," remarked Lady Dumbarton. " Maria," said Mrs. Wilding, putting down her tea-cup with an energy that made the china ring, " I must decline to discuss such matters before a stranger, even to oblige you." Lady Dumbarton glanced towards her com- panion, who, for the last few moments, had been diligently employing herself in the mysterious occupation called tatting, and had now risen to prepare a saucerful of bread and milk for the little dog ; but whose inquisitive ears, Mrs. Wilding felt assured had not lost one syllable of the conversation. " Sparke," she said, " is not a stranger." " Not to you, perhaps," retorted her half- sister. " Besides," continued the elder lady, " truth should never be unwelcome to the mind of a sincere person." " I hate }our sincere persons ! " exclaimed A SiyCERE PEllSOX. 105 Mrs. Wilding. " If it comes to a choice, I would rather put up with a good-humoured, agreeable humbug, than a so-called sincere person, who feels it .his duty to be always picking holes in his neighbours." " I," said Lady Dumbarton, '' am alwaj^s glad to hear the truth." '' Then, I don't believe you, Maria ! Suppose now, you were someone whose little natural defects required an artificial remedy, would you like your maid to come into the drawing-room and tell everybody how many false teeth you wore, or how much of your hair was your own ? " Lady Dumbarton was silent." A little flush rose to her cheek, and her glance increased in severity. The shot had told, as her affectionate sister had intended it should ; for the neat row of brown curls which adorned the good lady's forehead, were, as the other well knew, the artistic production of Mr. Truefittt. " Sparke," she said, presently, in her stateliest manner, " kindly fetch me my handkercliief ; 1 think I have left it upstairs." 106 IX THE OLD PALAZZO. " Certainly, my lady. And will your lad}'- sliip have Dandy on your knee, now ? He has finished his tea." " You may lift him up, Sparke." " How that woman does ' my lady ' you ! " exclaimed Mrs. Wilding, as Miss Sparke left the room with her usual noiseless step. " I can't think why you don't tell her, Maria ; it's such very bad style." " Mamma, dear," said Eveleen, laughing, " you are cross. Do you hear the noise of wheels ? It must be Beresford. Ah ! and here is Detta at last." The greeting between Benedetta and her aunt was not an uncordial one. Lady Dum- barcon's peculiar words and ways, although they often puzzled and sometimes amused the Anglo -Italian girl, yet did not seem to annoy her in the way they annoyed the others. The natural straightforward sim- plicity of Detta's disposition disposed her to be more submissive beneath the elder woman's strictures, and gave her a certain attraction in the eyes of the latter, who, in her stern way, was really attached to her A SJyCERE PEIiSOX. 107 niece. Notwithstanding her impulsive nature and foreign extraction too, Detta possessed in reality, more of the virtue of toleration than either Eva or her mother, and was more capable of perceiving the certain amount of real worth and integrity that underlay Lady Dumbarton's narrow prejudices and conventional mode of expression. Her entrance somewhat restored the tone of good breeding, which had for the last few minutes been running a perilous risk of extinction. She answered her aunt's many questions quietly and simpl}^ and received in silence her admonitions regarding the perils of the gay world in general, and of the coming dance in particular. Eva meanwhile was bending over her mother, whispering : " Now really, mamma, you must be more patient, or w^e shall be in for a row royal first thing. Think what a lively time we shall have of it, if you and Aunt Maria go on hammer and tongs at each other like this for the next three weeks — "when the door opened and Beresford Conway entered the room. 108 IX THE OLD PALAZZO. " At last ! " exclaimed his cousin. " Your tea will be very weak, Beresford." "Thanks," he said, coming forward. ''Your servant, Lady Dumbarton." Lady Dumbarton bowed stiffl3^ She had no intention of disguising her prejudice against her sister's visitor, but Miss Sparke took the hand he held out with efTusive politeness. " Glad to see you again, Miss Sparke," he remarked some- what vaguely and unveraciously. And Miss Sj^arke, notwithstanding her uncertain age, blushed as she murmured some inaudible response. " What sport ? '' inquired Eva. " One good run — towards the end. Lasted nearly forty minutes.'' " You were in at the death, I sup- pose : "Well— no, I wasn't." ^* You knocked out of time ? Never! " she exclaimed incredulously. Mr. Conway was silent. " Had a spill ? " demanded Eva. "Well— yes." " A bal one?" A SIX CERE PERSOX, 109 " Bad for Beauty," returned her cousin. "She's— in fact — she's dead." " Good oTacious ! " exclaimed Mrs. Wildin^^, " dead ! How did that happen ? " There was great commiseration in her tones, for both she and her daughter knew that this chestnut mare was quite the favourite of Mr. Conway's little stud. Beresford sipped his tea slowly, his colour a little higher than usual. " Staked herself," he replied at length, " going over a hedge. Jumped on to the paling beyond instead of clearing it. I shot her." "You did?" exclaimed Mrs. Wildino-. " The poor thing ! Oh, Beresford, I am so sorry for you." Mr. Conway got up and walked towards the window. " Thank you — yes, it's a bore — ^just at the beginning of the season, too," he re- marked, his drawl more pronounced than usual. "The frost is breaking up nicely to-day." " Couldn't anvone else have shot the poor no I-Y THE OLD PALAZZO. beast ? " asked Eva. " It must liave been so horrid for 3^011 to do it." "Well, yes, I suppose tliey might," he returned. He did not say that he had preferred to do the painful task himself, feeling that a quick and merciful death was the last kindness he could render to the animal he loved. " All so-called sport is cruel," remarked Lady Dumbarton sententiously. " I cannot conceive of a christian-minded person allowing themselves to take part in such occupations " No one answered her, but after a pause she continued : " I cannot imagine wdiat can be the amuse- ment to au}^ rational mind in rushing madly over ploughed fields and attempting to break his neck over hedges and ditches — all for what ? To pursue and caj)ture an animal which, when killed, is absolutely valueless ! " She w^as addressing herself pointedly to Mr. Conway, and evidently expected a response. " No P " he replied. " Perhaps you never cared for hard riding ? People amuse them- selves in different wavs." A SINCERE PERSOX. ] 11 r3ut. tliis reply was not of tlie nature which I ady Dumbarton had intended to eHcit. She had no wish to be put on a par with those she condemned, and considered simply as differing from them on the score of personal inclina- tions. "Were I ever so devoted to riding," she remarked coldly, " I should still eschew hunting. Providence has created the animal world to supply our necessary wants, but not to minister, by their suffer- ings, to the gratification of unfeeling amuse- ment." "Quite so," he remarked in an exhausted tone, as his eye caught the heavy fur trimming of her handsome dress.- " But few^ of us, I suppose, are consistent. I don't, for instance, pretend to understand the exigencies of a lady's — toilette— but still, there are sealskin jackets, and — a — feather muffs and other things. Seal hunting is cruel work, they say " " Beresford," said Eva, " why have you stroked your hair down over your forehead in that extraordinary way ? " 112 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. Miss Sparke, wlio was gliding to the other side of the room, gave a little shriek. " The blood is trickling down ! " she ex- claimed, clasping her hands. Conway hastily put up his handker- chief. " Beg pardon," he said. " I thought I had washed it off." *' Did you hurt yourself to-day ? " inquired Mrs. Wilding anxiously. " A scratch only. Don't fuss, Cousin Fanny." For Mrs. Wilding, with demonstra- tive affection, had run to his side, and turn- ing back the short, flaxen hair, displayed to public view a large plaistered cut. " About dressing time, isn't it ? " he con- tinued, rising with an evident air of being overburdened by the general commiseration. Lady Dumbarton alone, however, had gazed upon the wound in silence ; and as he slowly dawdled out of the room, her comment was audible to him. " Mad infatuation ! " she exclaimed, lifting both hands into the air, " a valuable horse killed, and the precious life of a human being A SIXCERE PERSOX. 113 risked, all for tlie sake of running after a poor little harmless, panting quadruped." Whicli remark, like tlie comments of most prejudiced persons, sliewed a painful in- ability to grasp the .simplest bearings of her subject. VOL. I. CHAPTER VIII. A SERIOUS CONVERSATION. CHRISTMAS at Ashley Manor was scarcely kept after the good old fashion. It was rather typical of the modern school which votes all sentiment a bore, and openly acknow- ledges old customs to be out of date. Lady Dumbarton's theories on the subject of the season were severe, her sister's festive and social, while Beresford Conway gave it as his opinion that the popular notions were a vul- gar anachronism. They only taught people, he said, to feel the obligation of stuffing them- selves inordinately with turkey and plum- pudding, to drink champagne to excess, and to sing stupid comic songs or more stupid carols. In fact, it was a festivity now rele- gated to the lower orders and entirely tabooed by persons of position or good taste. Under A SERIOUS COXVEBSATION. 115 these circumstances, Mrs. Wilding felt it in- cumbent upon her to mark the season as little as possible. A barrister connection, a nephew on her husband's side, came down for a three days' visit during the course of the week, and being a clever, agreeable man, gave a momen- tary spurt to the family-party ; but, for the rest, the time passed with sufficient monotony to justify Eveleen's assertion that Christmas was always the dullest period of the year. The weather was mild and damp, and Mr. Conway was absent most days either hunting or shoot- ing, leaving the ladies to make the most of a somewhat uncongenial quintette indoors. During these quiet hours, Detta's thoughts often strayed back to the great festivals of her childhood. What times of excitement and delight they had been ! She remembered, as if it had been yesterday, the mornings when 'Nunciata had taken her to see the image of the Child-Christ lying before the altars ; and the evenings when, hand in hand with Ino, she had wandered into the crowded streets and watched the Girandola flame out above b* 116 ly THE OLD PALAZZO. the Pincian hill — or penetrated into the still more crowded churches, where the brilliant lioiits and the bursts of music made her little heart swell with a mysterious rapture. How she had loved those glorious times of Christ- mas and Easter ! Were there any churches in Christendom like those of old Rome ? Could any ritual be so gorgeous, so heart-stirring as that to which she had been then accustomed ? Detta had been carefully instructed since her comino^ to Em^land in the faith of her own people ; yet the beauty-loving soul of the half- southern girl was apt at times to hanker wist- fully after a more sense-satisfying worship than that to which the last six years had habituated her. A few days later came the dance. It was to be a large one, including most of the county people. The house was turned nearly upside down, and Lady Dumbarton's groans over the frivolity of the world — possi- bly accentuated, as Mrs. Wilding observed somewhat maliciously to her daughter, by the sUght feeling of discomfort unavoidably im- ported into even the best regulated of small A SLBIOUS COXVERSATIOX. 117 liouseliolds on such occasions — increased in number and severity. She decUned to be pre- sent when the evening arrived, alleging her in- ability to sympathise with entertainments of the kind ; and unconscious of the secret relief her decision afforded to her relations. It was the first occasion on which Detta had been present at a dance since the days of her childhood. Then, in Carnival time, Ino had sometimes led her for a treat into some large, well-lighted room where the masquers were madly twirling and flinging themselves about. The dancers to-night were of a dif- ferent order, both as regarded their dress and- mode of action ; but Detta fancied that the Carnival masquers had enjoyed themselves more. There was a solemnity about some of these guests, especially the gentlemen, which seemed unsuitable to the occasion. She herself, though quiet and graceful in her movements, yet danced with that light-hearted ease and vivacity which gives pleasure to the on looker, as appearhig the spontaneous expres- sion of youth and happiness. She was a little silent without being exactly shy ; and the 118 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. gentle gravity of countenance wliicli yet ap- peared compatible with so much genuine girlish enjoyment, was perhaps one of her greatest charms. She was quite unconscious that she was the principal attraction of the room ; but Eveleen had soon possessed herself of the fact, which, with her customaiy gene- rosity, she made a matter of much exultation* " Mama," she exclaimed before the evening was half over, " Detta is the belle of our dance. There is no one equal to her. Looic how all the men are running after her ! I declare not one of my old admirers remains true to me ; alwa3^s saving and excepting poor dear Sir Peter, who, I suppose, has not brains enouofh to see how much more beauti- ful and fascinating she is than I." " Men always run after the last novelty," remarked Mrs. Wilding a little drily. " Good looks are a matter of individual taste. A dark, foreign-looking girl like Detta is un- usual, and therefore sure to be made much of at first." For Mrs. Wilding did not fully reciprocate Eva's enthusiasm, nor feel the same unalloyed A SERlCUb CO^VEnSA'lIOX. 119 satisfaction in tlie fact that a homeless, penni- less niece should eclipse her oAvn long-admired child. However, so lon^' as Sir Peter remained true, the desertion of lesser stars was a matter of minor importance. If only Eva could be persuaded not to snub the wretched man so persistently, he would, Mrs. Wilding felt as- sured, have promptly laid his title, his-handsome property, and his seven thousand a year, at the tiresome girl's feet. He was not so good a match as Beresford Conway, nor could she ever feel the same regard for him that she entertained for the latter ; but people must take things as they came, and, as the best ap-« peared unattainable, she was prepared to be fully satisfied with the second best. Eva had^ however, at present, no idea of putting up with second bests of any sort, and the manner — one of obvious indifference and good- humoured mocker}^ — in which she treated her adorer this night — now bringing him to her side with a smile, anon casting him into the depths of despair by a studied coolness — was really enough to disgust that gentleman with his suit, and to justify the irritation of her 120 7.V THE OLD PALAZZO. watcliful mother. It was a little annoying to Mrs. Wilding to perceive the attentions be- stowed upon her niece by Beresford Conway. As usual on such occasions, Mr. Conway did not join in the prevailing pastime with the unseemly ardour of the more juvenile guests. But, as usual, he engaged himself to a lady for each dance, giving her a languid turn or two, alternating with a cup of coffee or an ice, and a pause of still more languid conversation. As his exertions, however, seemed to satisfy his partners, there was little incentive for him to attempt more. When a man is young, good-looking, the son of an earl, and the pos- sessor of unknown thousands, it would surely be a work of supererogation for him to condes- cend to the art of making himself agreeable. Nature has, in fact, already done that part of the business for him — he is made agreeable, without any self-participation in the matter. Mr. Conway had been taking one of his slow turns with Detta, secretly dissatisfying her by his want of vivacity in the performance; and, having in his own opinion fulfilled the more laborious part of his obligations, had found A SEIIIOL'S COyVEIlSATION. VZ\ his partner a cliair and sunk into another beside her. Ten daA's or more spent together in the same house had brouij^ht about a certain degree of intimacy between the two ; and Detta held her fashionable companion in none of the respectful admiration evidently entertained towards him by some of the younger and simpler maidens present. She was, on the contrary, a little inclined, I fear, to judge him uncharitably, to consider his dignified self-importance as mere conceit, and his deliberate mode of speech as affectation. " You are very soon tired," she observed^ as he leant back with an exhausted air ; "I am afraid you cannot be verj^ strong." "Do you want to go on dancing? It is very comfortable here." " I could not be so cruel as to rouse you again." " I shall be roused directly, if I don't take care," he remarked with gentle irritation. " That old — a — woman, Mrs. Hilton Thorney- croft, has been eyegiassing me for the last quarter of an hour, and this is the first place 122 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. I have founi where I can avoid her basilisk glance." "Why should you wish to avoid her glance? " " Well, you see there are three — Thorney- croft daughters. They are all short of partners. And, having been twice to her house this season, the old mother seems to think it — my duty to dance with them all round." " Then the quickest way would be to get through your duty at once." " That's impossible ! " " Why so ? " " Well, first because I never do my duty, and secondl}^, because the Thorney croft family are an awful lot of bores. By Jove ! if she hasn't changed her seat, and brought me within range again! She don't — a — approve of my sitting so long by you." " What can it matter to her ? " said Detta. "She won't succeed in ousting me, however," he continued, "I always do as I please." " But," she observed, turning towards him — whether sarcastic or in earnest he could not A SERIOUS CO.WEBSATION. 123 tell — " if by so simple an action you can give so much pleasure to four people, you must indeed be considered a liapp}^ person, must you not ? " " Happy ? Well, I don't know. At present I am not unhappy, sitting here." " Then," she said, half rising, " I cannot allow others to suffer through me." "Which means," said Beresford, " that you are tired of me ? " " I always mean what I say," was her reply. " Go and do your duty, Mr. Conway." " Not so," he replied ; " I shall sit here. " Pleasure before all things is my motto." " Then I am sorry for you," she said, as she put her hand within the arm of the new partner who had come to claim her. It was nearly an hour later when Mr. Conway again approached her. Detta's nimble feet were beginning in reality to tire a little now, and she had no objection this time to a seat beside her companion. " What did you mean,'' he asked presently, ^' by saying that you were sorry for me ? Were vou serious or in fun ? " IlM jy THE OLD PALAZZO. " You have never been considered a subject f jr pity before ? " siie demanded, smiling demurely. •• Well, I don't know that I have. I be- lieve — a — that I have always been held rather a lucky fellow. You see I have had pretty much my ow^n way in most things since I can remember." '' That is the reason why I pity you," she said gravely. " Perhaps that is what has made you tired of everything, as you say you are, you know." " You think people with hard lives have the best of it?" " I think people with something to do are the happiest." " Ah ! very likely. Xobody ever does any- thing in my family — anything useful, I mean. My father reads. the papers, and goes out to diuner, and trots down to the House of Lords occasionally. My eldest brother runs about the Continent and fills scores of sketch books with dreadful daubs, and my worthy step- mother occupies herself in fattening' up a covey of spoiled lap-dogs, and consulting with A SERIOUS CONVERSATIOX. 125 doctors innumerable regarding the delicacy of lier nerves. We're a useless lot ; there's not one of us could make a sixpence if he were obliged to work, nor coin an original idea if his life depended upon it. As for duty and and all that sort of thing, 1 always think it must be an awful bore." His companion was silent, and by degrees her expression of undisguised commiseration brought a smile to his lips, exhausted as he was by his own unusual eloquence. " I suppose now," he said, wishing to hear her voice, " that your — surroundings were quite different as a child ? " , " Very," she replied emphatically. " There was my dear old Maestro who played in the orchestra at the Opera — -I think he is there still — he loved his music, Ah, how he loved it ! And there was Annunciata — she was always busy — she did all the household work, the cooking and the cleaning, and everything. And there were Pippo and Ino, her sons. Pippo was at school every day ; but Ino, the eldest, was a sculptor — at least he was be- ginning to be one. He was hard at work all 12G 7.V THE OLD PALAZZO. day long ; and, when he came home, his hands were never idle. He was always modelling something or making a drawing for the model. They say he models beautifully now. I am sure he will be a great sculptor some day. And, perhaps — he will come to England this winter, and I shall see him aofain." She was leaning back, her hands lightly clasped together, and her eyes half-closed, as, with a happy smile that had much tenderness in it, she recalled to herself these bygone re- miniscences. Beresford Conway gazed at her with an interest in which was mingled curiosity, and just a grain of some new feeling he never remembered to have experienced before. Was it jealousy? " Uow old is this Ino of whom you speak? '' he asked presently. "He is six j^ears older than I. Let me see — by now he must be twenty-four." " And handsome, I suppose, like all Italians ? " " Ah ! 3^es, he was alwa3^s beautiful," she A sumo US CONVEllSATION. 127 replied, still regarding tlie past, and speaking absently. " You were very fond of liim, I suppose ? " " I shall always love Ino," replied Detta with simple warmth. And then she sud- denly opened her eyes, and a faint flush rose to her cheek, as she became conscious of his gaze. " Shall we go back to the ball-room ? " she began. But Beresford interrupted her. " Tell me, Miss Campbell," he said, " which would you rather be, an Italian or an English young lady ? " "An English young lady," replied Detta. " But oh ! an Italian peasant," she added quickly. " Their life is so full and free ; it has so much more change and warmth, and sunlight than those of this country." " And the young lady ? " " Ah ! she is just a prisoner in Italy ; there is no largeness or freedom in her life, as with English girls. She must not stir out by herself ; she knows nothing of the world, and has no sympathy in its great events. Her life and her thoughts get all narrow and 128 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. vsecluded. And -vvlien she comes to marry — All ! tlien it is dreadful I " " Why so ? " asked Beresford, with an involuntar}" smile at the girl's earnestness. " They have no real choice," said Detta. " They know nothing about their future husbands — sometimes even have not spoken to them — before they are betrothed. In Italy a girl has more proposals than in England. If she come of a respectable family, and is not disagreeable-looking, and has some trifling dot (for the men there do not expect much money with their wives) — then many gentle- men will offer to marry her, without waiting to know if she be amiable, or if her tastes are suited to theirs. But they do not speak to her. Thev 2^0 to her father, and make a formal request for her hand." ^ " And then the father chooses for her ? " " Not always. A kind father, if he approve of a man, and thinks the match a suitable one, lays the offer before his daughter, and leaves the decision to her. But what can her decision be worth when she has probably no knowledge on which to form her opinion ? It A SERIOUS C0^'VERSAT10N. 129 is often at random tliat she says yes or no ; and sometimes lier lot is a very nnliappy one. There was the case of a young lady to whom my old Maestro used to teach the violin. She was a delicate, refined girl, very gentle and timid, and with a passion for music. The Maestro used to say she was the quickest pupil he ever had. Her parents were not rich, hut she was very beautiful. For a long time she would not marry. She said she could not bear to trust herself to a stranger, and that she was quite content with her father and mother and her musical occupations. She was three and twenty — quite old for an Italian oirl — when she married. " Her parents pressed her much upon the point, and at last she gave way, and accepted the Principe Argentini. She knew nothing whatever about him, but she was of a ro- mantic disposition, and the title pleased her. If she must marry at all, she thought she would like to be a Principessa. But he was a hard, bad man. He cared nothing for art, which was her one enjoyment in life ; he only cared for wine and cards, and for his boon VOL. I. 9 130 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. companions and tlieir dissipated pleasures, lie looked upon tlie Signorina Giulia as a pretty toy, and soon wearied of liis bride ; for lie liad not the mind to enter into her aesthetic pursuits, and she had not strong wit or determination of character, to keep him from returning to his old pursuits. " A few months after their marriage, he began to illtreat her — to neglect her — and some said, even to strike her — and, before the 3^ear was over, she and her babe were laid together in the cemetery at Albano." " But hers was an extreme case? " enquired Conway. " Everybody," replied Detta slowly, " can- not die when they wish ; but such a state of things makes many broken hearts ; or, what is almost worse, ruins lives and hardens a woman's heart." " I wonder," said Beresford, '' that the Italian 3'oung ladies are not afraid to venture upon matrimony " " It is the only way of getting out of the cage, you see," she replied. " They long to mix more in the world, and to have A SERIOUS COyVEIiSAllOJY. 131 more interest and pow.^r in tlieir lives. As soon as they are marrietl, they have some position, some authority ; they can do pretty much as they like. Even an Italian bringing up does not prevent a girl lomrino' to use her wino-s." " And for the sake of the desired flight, she will even put up with a husband ? " " It is the only way," replied Detta seriously. "After all," said her companion, after a pause, " I don't see that there is much advantage in the English style over the Italian. Certainly an English girl often thinks she has her own way, and decides for herself ; but is it not generally a pleasing delusion ? Most suitable marriages are brought about by the agency of relatives or the force of necessity ; and, where a couple of fascinated fools become enamourel of each other, their judgment is in truth suspended ; and, under the glamour of what is called falling in love, they know as little of each other's real character as your friends in Italy, and are even more likely to make a senseless 9* 132 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. choice." He leant back with a sigh, to recover from the exertion of so unusually long- a speech. But Detta's glance, as she turned towards him, effectually roused him, although no outward sign betrayed the fact. " You do not really think that ? " she asked, with something approaching scorn in her tones. " Think what ? " he asked, half amused. " That people cannot know each other because they love one another ? " Beresford paused and twirled his moustache slowly. " I— a — have had so little experience in these matters," he replied, probably bent upon teazing his companion. " I fear I am a ver}^ unsusceptible man myself. But it is the opinion of the world in general." " And the world is always right ? " " Usually so, it seems to me. But then I am not original myself, I have no enthusiasm — I generally receive accepted dogmas as truths." Detta made no reply. "Do not facts bear me out ? " he continued. " Look at Eva — she hates Sir Peter Gallowav, or thinks A SERIOUS COXVERSAlIOy. i;i3 she does, now ; but, as sure as we sit here, she w^ill give herself up into his hands some day." " She will not ! " exclaimed Detta. " She shall not ! Why should you think so ? " " Because her mother is bent upon it, and because Sir Peter is bent upon it ; and because, though Eva is cleverer than both of them put together, they are more — a — obstinate. She will accept her fate of her own accord soon. And then," he murmured, "it will be Pegasus harnessed to a mule." " It would be a shame," said Detta. " How- can Aunt Fanny wish it ? He has no manners — he is stupid -" '' Bucolic ? " suggested her companion drily. '' You are young, Miss Campbell. Do you not know that good breeding and brains are unnecessary where a man has eight or ten thousand a year?" Por there was not, nor ever had been, any great cordialit}^ of feeling between Mr. Conway and the young baronet. CHAPTER IX. love's remembrance. " T THINK," said Detta, "you are ratlier X t'oolisli to-niglit, Eva." It was two or three days subsequent to the ball, and Eveleen had been paying her cousin's room a last visit before retiring for the night. This w^as no unusual step on her part ; but Benedetta, who was by no means deficient in penetration, had been struck by certain peculiarities in Eva's manner, wdiich conv^inced her either that something had happened to put the latter out, or that something weighed upon her mind, wdiicli she was desirous, but did not know how, to communicate. " You have been locking and unlocking my dressing-case for five minutes, Eva," she remarked, " and have asked me three or four LOVE'S REMEMBllAXCE. 135 times wliat I mean to wear when we go to lunch at Sir Peter Galloway's to-morrow. You don't really care a fig, any more than I do, whether I wear my brown cashmere or my black velveteen, and it cannot do you any real good to break the lock of my box ; though, if it relieves your feelings, pray go on. What is it ?" Eveleen turned round, laughing a little awkwardly, as she faced her cousin. " It's that, my dear — ^just that," she said ; '^ the luncheon party." " I suppose," and Delta looked at her closely, '' you mean the host of the luncheon jmrty ? " " Quite so, my dear. What a clever girl you are ! I have no objection whatever to luncheon in the abstract. I think it is rather a good ins,titution in its way." " But you object to Sir Peter Galloway ? I knew that before ; and it does not astonish me. Why should you worry yourself about it, Eva ? " " Well, you see," said Eveleen, pulling in and out the stopper of a scent bottle which UC, J.\ THE OLD PALAZZO. (Stood upon the dressing-table, " the matter is not quite so easy to dispose of as j^ou think." " Has he proposed to you, Eva ? " " He has, my dear ; yesterday. It was all I could do to stop him at the ball ; and you know how he has been pottering over here every day since. The bother of it was really wearing me to shreds ; so, as he would not be put off speaking, I thought I had better let him have his own way, and get it over as quickly as possible. But, bless you, my dear, I never saw so obstinate a man in all my life ! He wouldn't take No, and insisted that I should think over it, and that he should ask me again, which I told him was a most foolish plan, as I was sure I should never like him ; and that, if I was so weak-minded as to be bullied into saying anything else, he would probably repent of it as much as I should." Detta looked at her cousin gravely. " You should not have said that," she .remarked ; " you should have been firm in telling him you meant your No." "My dear," said Eva, with a short laugh, LOVES REMEMBUAXCE. 137 " I was as firm as all the Fates put together, until they badgered me nearly out of my senses." " They ? " enquired Detta, quickly ; " who else ? " " Why, mamma, of course." And Eveleen finally jammed the stopper into the bottle, and came towards the fire. There was a minute's silence. Then Detta approached her cousin, speaking earnestly — "You will not do it, Eva?" she said. " You will not allow yourself to be persuaded into marrying a man whom you dislike — a man like Sir Peter ? " " I don't know that I do dislike him, particularly," returned Eveleen. " And after all," she continued, somewhat irritably, "I can't see why you and Beresford should despise him so. He isn't deformed, or an idiot ; and a young man with his advantages does not often go long a-begging." " What does that matter to you ? " asked Detta. " He would not suit you ; you would be miserable with him." " My dear," said Eva, with another laugh, 138 ly THE OLD PALAZZO. " you forget how old I am. I am past tlie dajT-s of romance." Detta made no response. "Many people say," went on lier cousin, " that the happiest marriages are where people begin with no false illusions. I should certainly have none with Sir Peter ; and," she added, half under her breath, as if to herself, "I have treated him shamefull)^ and he is very devoted — and poor mamma does so wish it." " It is a wrong to Aunt Fanny," said Detta, " to think she would wish anything not for your happiness." " Poor mama ! Yes," said Eveleen, affec- tionately. "But she is persuaded it is for my happiness. She has always spoilt me ; and I have never done anything to oblige her all my life long." "But, Eva," said her cousin, "you puzzle me. Don't you believe in abstract right and wrong ? " " I am not good, like you, Detta. " You are a dear little simple-minded, single-hearted girl — you musn't expect me to look at -things LOVE'S BEMEMBBAXCE. 139 as you do. I am a worn-out, -vvorldly creature." And she sighed. " I am not good, and you are not worn out or worldly," replied Detta. " I am sure you respect yourself too much to marry any one without caring for them. " It seems odd," remarked Eveleen, half pathetically, "to hear you say such things. "•I have always heard that in Italy, ladies and gentlemen marry from convenience, not love. And I thought," she added, smiling, " ever}^- thing Italian was perfect in your eyes." " My father was an Englishman," replied Benedetta gravely. It was a remark that constantly rose to her lips when the conversa- tion took a turn relative to the respective merits of the two countries. " But, child though I was when I left him, the Maestro sometimes spoke to me on this subject. Ill- assorted marriaofes were common enouoli in Eome,and they always seemed to give him pain. 'Piccola,'lie once said to me when I had been telling him some of 'Nunciata's gossip about a young bride whom we all knew by sight, but 140 JX THE OLD PALAZZO. wliom lie knew as an acquaintance — ' be care- ful, before you marry, to know your future husband well. The most miserable marriages are not always between the worst, but be- tween the least congenial people. Your father would probably have been a great man had your mother lived. At any rate, he would not have sunk to his grave under the weight of disappointment.' " " Mama is very different from what your father was, I think," observed Eveleen. " If it hadn't been for her, Sir Peter would have been sent to the right-about long ago." "Did you ever care for anybody, Eva?" asked her cousin suddenlj^ The colour rushed over Eveleen's fair face and neck ; and when she answered it was with a half-angry impatience. " Bless you, child, all we old maids have our romances ! Of course I thought I did — many years ago. But it all came to an end, as silly dreams are apt to do ; and I have been practical wisdom itself ever since. We carried it on for months — it was a loiio- afhxir. But mama wouldn't hear of it, and indeed she LOVE'S UUMEMDRAXCE. 141 was riglit. I didn't realise then, as I do now, that a soldier's pay and three hundred a year Avere doubtful guarantees of domestic bliss, let alone receipted bills " " Then you know you can care for some- one," said Detta, mercilessly. " Eva, mia, think of him now, and of what you felt at that time ; and surely you will know better than to fancy you could ever be happy with Sir Peter ? " Eveleen turned aside her head, and Detta saw how the hand which lay upon the mantel- piece trembled. " You had better let me be worldly in uiv own way," she murmured. " I shall not be doing worse than many other women, I dare- say." " I won't let you ! " exclaimed her cousin. " Tell me you will say No to this man to- morrow. Tell me you will be firm. He is not worthy of you ; he swears, and he has no thoughts on any subject except horses. And you have no love for him — how should you have ? Tell me ! " she repeated, her arms about her cousin's neck. 142 Z.y THE OLD PALAZZO. The face that she kissed was flushed and moved, but smiling with audacious mischief. " After all," said Eva, " you are a silly o^irl. You would «fet no end of fun out of mv house, if I were Lady Galloway." Then she suddenly met her companion's earnest eyes, and her own filled with tears. '• Why do 3^ou care so much about me, child ? I am not worth it," she said hastily. " You had better let me follow my own nature." " It is not your own nature," replied Detta. "And I love you." " Well, console yourself, little girl ; I don't know that I ever could have swallowed Sir Peter, and I think I can promise now to resist almost any pressure, with you and my cousin Beresford to back me up." Benedetta breathed a sigh of relief. *' Ah, I am glad," she said. " It is quite settled, is it not ? " Eveleen laus^hed a little. " What an odd child 3^ou are ! " she said, passing her hand caressingly down her cousin's thick dark hair. " Sometimes you are so simple and innocent. LOVE'S REMEMBRANCE. 143 that one would scarcely give you credit for your eighteen years ; and at other times you talk like a moral compendium in three volumes ! " " I do not care what I talk like, so lono' as you promise not to marry Sir Peter ! " re- sponded Detta. " Good-night, Eva ! *' And then she whispered in a low voice, " Dream of the old love to-night, Carina ! " But the dreams came long before Eveleen Wilding was asleep or in bed. There was a little tender softened look upon her face as she sat up that night, her hands clasped before her, gazing into the orange embers of hey: bed-room fire, living over again for a time that past which Benedetta's words had re- called. A happy, silly, childish past, long put away and forgotten — at least, so she would have said to herself a few days ago — but now recurring with a vivid remembrance of every detail, and surrounded by a halo which must surely have been evoked by an unconscious contrast between the real old love and the false new one. After all, she was not so hardened as she 144 7.V THE OLD PALAZZO. tliousflit. How absurd it was that tliis old tenderness should revive after s j many years, as if for the purpose of protesting against the counterfeit thing which she had half thought of foisting into its place ! It suddenly seemed to her as if it were yesterday, and not six years ago, since their last parting on that stormy April day, when she had walked with him towards the gate and they had said good- bye beneath the trees. How well she recalled every line upon his face and every word he had said as he bent down and took both her hands within his own. ' You are the only woman in the world to me, Eva,' he was saying, wdiile the wind blew the fair hair off his forehead, and caught her cloak in its eddying, ' But, because I love you so much, I can release you, knowing that it is best so for you. I was selfish ever to speak to you ; but 0, my love, there are times when feelings will betray themselves, and words will out against one's will. And, however long it be, I will never ask any other to be my wife while you are single.' Oh ! what an achins^ heart she had borne LOVE'S REME3IBRAIiCE. 145 as she returned slowly homewards, knowing that she had seen the last of Arthur Drew ! The very thought of it now brought a pathetic wonder to her heart, and a sadness which was less regret over the lost lover, than over her own lost power of loving. Yet somehow, that night's retrospect added force to her cousin's persuasions, and placed Sir Peter's chances at once and for ever in the descending scale. VOL. I. 10 CHAPTER X. SIR PETER PUT DOWN. A!S might naturally be supposed, the ex- pedition next day to Bilston Court, Sir Peter Galloway's, had not much attraction in the eyes of Eva Wilding. Indeed, it may be asserted that she looked forward to it with feelings of decided aversion not unmingled with nervousness ; she longed for the excuse of a headache, or any other small in- disposition ; but, notwithstanding a somewhat short night, she rose in the morning pro- vokingly well and fit for the day's duties, as is usually the case with any one who has a strong wish to shirk them. There was nothing to be done but to go through with it, she felt ; and this time she was determined that there should be no mistake about the matter, and that Sir Peter should be made to understand, sill PETER PUT DOWN. U7 once for all, that any further discussion was absolutely useless. Yet as she stepped into the carriage that morning, in company with her mother and cousin, Eveleen had some sympathy with the feelings of a criminal going to execution. It was not only that she knew Sir Peter to be a somewhat rough, coarse young man, whose behaviour, when disap- pointed or irritated, might possibly be apt to get the better of the usual conventional re- straints — it was perhaps also that she knew or fancied she knew that he might think he had not been treated altogether with fairness in the business. For her part she had never in-* tended to deceive him — in fact she had often been rude enough in her conduct towards him to disgust nine out of ten men in such a position — but she had more than a suspicion that her mother's behaviour had not been equally open and honest. She fancied that Mrs. Wilding, with her conciliatory manners and little flattering ways, had at times in- cluded her own self in her polite attentions, and had given Sir Peter to understand that she was an eccentric girl, whose feelings 10* H8 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. towards liim were by no means so uncompli- mentary as her manner might lead him to suppose. Anyhow, she knew the young Baronet well enoug^h to feel some uncomfort- able misgivings as to the mauvais quart d'heure she would probably have to pass through. With the exception of Mrs. Wilding, whose spirits were at their highest, and who, ignorant of the revolution that had taken place in her daughter's mind, hoped the best from Eva's patient acceptance of her former remonstrances, and her present thoughtful and serious demeanour — no one of the party can be said to have undertaken the day's expedition with any particular sense of enjoy- ment. Detta, after the counsel she had given, so hostile to his wishes, felt something of a traitress in partaking of the young man's hospitality ; while, as for Beresford Conway, he grumbled loudly at the loss of a day's hunting, and the prospect of three or four hours spent in uncongenial company, going merely as a personal favour to his cousin }^anny, who objected, she said, to the look of three women entering a room alone. SIR PETER PUT DOWN. 149 It was a lovely day, however — clear, crisp and sunn}^ — and, by the time they reached the Court, even Eva had plucked up anew her spirit and prepared herself to meet the worst with equanimity. Mr. Conway too, who had ridden over and joined them in the drive, was bound to confess that the lunch was far less dreary than he had expected. Sir Peter was evidently on his best behaviour, and not nearly so loud and pragmatical as usual — Mr. Lumsden, his brother-in-law, on a visit to the Court, was an inoffensive little man, and his wife a pretty though faded and affected woman — whilst the t.wo other guests, a brother and sister from a house in the neigh- bourhood, were really quite agreeable people. Mr. Carew devoted himself to Detta, whilst his lively sister employed herself in drawing out to the full Beresford Conway's somewhat languid powers of conversation. Eva felt, with momentary irritation, that these strangers, as well as everybody else, appeared to con- sider her attention and conversation the property by rights of her host. But the mauvais quart cCheure was still to 150 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. come, and came only too soon. It was cruel of Beresford, Eveleen thought, when, after lunch, a stroll in the gardens was proposed, to keep so close to Miss Carew's side, and of Detta to walk on contentedly with Mr. Carew, without throwing even a glance of commiser- ation in her direction. Mrs. Lumsden had been left in the house, and Eveleen knew her mother well enough to plac(; no reliance on her, nor to feel the least astonishment, although a little prophetic dismay, when Mrs. Wilding took the first opportunity of turning down a sidewalk, ostensibly to examine some botanical specimen, but really in order to leave the young couple to themselves. How she got through the next few minutes, or what were the' exact words that passed l^etween her- self and Sir Peter,Eveleen could never distinctly remember afterwards. She was too confused, almost terrified by the young man's anger, and by his repeated assertion that she had played fast and loose with him, and made a fool of him. " I am sure. Sir Peter," she repeated vaguely; " I never wished to make a fool of 3^ou." And, despite her discomfort, a half -humourous Slli PLY J. R PIT BOWK. 151 idea would present itself to her mind, that the evil deed he attributed to her was an impos- sible one, since nature had been beforehand with her. She had no clear recollection of how it came to pass that at length she found herself alone, but she remembered clearly enough the relief of that moment's solitude, and the irresistible desire she lelt to laugh, when, at another turn, she again encountered her mother and Mr. Lumsden, and noted the look of incredulous horror and dismay that over- spread that lady's features at the sight of her solitary appearance. No reference of course could be made to the subject in the presence of a stranger, but Eva felt intuitively that here was another iiiaavais quart cVlieure in store for her. She had too an uncomfortable consciousness that the facts of the case must be patent to Sir Peter's brother-in-law, and she felt an impatient disgust of her position, and an intense longing to be home again, even under the maternal lash. Meanwhile the party were moving to- wards the house, and as the ladies re- entered for a cup of tea, the gentlemen 152 IJy TUB OLD PALAZZO. turned off to visit the stables. Sir Peter liad re-appeared in company with Miss Carew and her escort, but his words had been few, and his face was black as night. It was patent to the three men who accompanied him in his tour of the stables, that the young baronet must have just received some severe shock to his vanity and that his temper was not improved by it. His horses were his hobby, but even the perfections of !^the pet hunters failed now to evoke his usual bom- bastic form of conversation. He was taci- turnity itself, save when some slight incident permitted him an opportunity of swearing profusely at one of his grooms. It was not an agreeable inspection. Little Mr. Lumsden looked positively nervous, as his eyes rested on the gloomy features of his big brother-in- law, while Mr. Carew took the earliest oppor- tunity of escaping to the more congenial society of the ladies. As for Beresford Conway, we hope he will not be deemed inhuman if we confess that the sio-ht of Sir Teter's furious countenance aroused a sweet sense of enjoyment in his SJI?. FETEll PUT DO WN. U-^ breast. Tliere had been an involuntary antagonit^m, a personal uncongeniality, from the first between the two ; and it must be allowed that the Honourable Beresford had a malicious pleasure in watching the discom- fiture of his companion. " Anybody like a game of billiards ? " enquired Sir Peter gruffly, as they returned through the out-buildings and passed into the billiard room. " i don't care if I do," was Mr. Conway's reply, as he began to take the cues one by one from the rack and examine their points. " But you, my dear fellow," he continued, with an* apparently friendly air, but with a glance of subdued relish in his sleepy eyes, " the ladies will miss you ; I must not take up A our time." " Ladies be hanged !" said Sir Peter politely. " I've had enough of infernal flirts and match- makers for one day." Mr. Conway bowed with a sarcastic courlesy that did not escape even the dull perceptions of his companion. Neither was Sir Peter blind to the lurking smile that rose to the 154 ly THE OLD PALAZZO. corners of liis guest's mouth ; and liis latent fury broke forth. " Ah ! " he said, " you can afford to laugh at me now. Perhaps you'll be made to laugh at the other side of your face some day. I'm not such a fool as not to see their game. I wish you joy of your bargain ! " " May I ask," enquired Beresford in his lowest and softest tone, " if your remarks refer to my cousin. Miss Wilding ? Pardon the question." " You may apply my remarks to her or to any other double-dealing d — d coquette you like ! " returned Sir Peter concisely. " And be hanged to your dandy affectations." Mr. Conway's blue eyes rested calmly on his companion's flushed face. " It is not, I suppose, etiquette," he asked, " to knock a man down in his own house — even a man who insults his guests ? " " You had better try it on ! " retorted the infuriated young baronet, pushing him roughly aside as he passed. The next moment he was astonished to find SIR PEIEB PUT DOWN. 155 himself lying on tlie flat of liis back upon the floor. " It's an awkward thing/' said Beresford, turning towards Sir Peter's brother-in-law ; " but there are cases where there is — a — really no alternative." Mr. Lumsden looked aofhast. o "It is unwarrantable, really unwarrant- able," he stammered, stooping to assist his fallen relative ; " I don't understand it at all." " No ? " asked Beresford. " Well, perhaps under the circumstances, that is — a little surprising." ^ Sir Peter had by now raised himself into a sitting position. -' 13 you ! I'll pay you out some day for this I " he exclaimed. '•As soon as you like," returned Con- way. "You can come over any day and try your hand on me, so long as you keep it— and yourself — out of my cousin's sight. But you don't want any more to-day, do you ? " " Confound your insolence, no ! You'v^e 156 7A" THE OLD PALAZZO. broken mj head in already. I'll have you up for assault." " Then," said Beresford, turning to Mr. Lumsden, " perhaps you will be so kind as to make my adieux to Mrs. Lumsden, and to thank her for her kind entertainment of us. All things considered — and if she's — a — a devoted sister, she may prefer my conge to be sent through you." When, a few minutes later, Mr. Lumsden joined the drawing-room circle, he was alone. " Where are Peter and Mr. Conway ? " asked his wife. " Mr. Conway was called away on business, and begged me to say good-bye to you," he returned, delivering his message with some awkwardness, and totally ignoring the reference to his brother-in-law. He w^as uncomfortably conscious that not only his wife's eyes, but those of most of their visitors, were fixed upon him in surprised enquiry ; also that his speech was followed by a per- ceptible pause, probably indicative of a suspicion of the truth on their part. Sir Peter did not reappear ; but no one SIR PETER PUT DOW.V. 157 remarked upon the fact, and shortly after- wards the party broke up. Mrs. Wilding's farewells, on taking her departure, were of the most cordial descrip- tion ; but, almost before she had seated herself in the carriage, a black cloud of portentous meaning appeared upon her brow, and she preserved an ill-omened silence throuo-hout the drive home. No sooner had they reached the Manor, than she sought out the delinquent and demanded an explanation. It was not often that angry words passed between Mrs. Wilding and her daughter, but on this occasion a heavy storm burst over* Eveleen's head. " It is enough to break one's heart ! " exclaimed the elder woman, when the latter had stated briefly but truthfully the part she had taken and to which she intended to adhere in the matter of Sir Peter's suit — " you insult every man who pays you attentions. I believe you do it on purpose to spite me ! You knew I had set my heart upon this, and so of course you put yourself against it." 153 i.y THE OLD PALAZZO. " Mamma, you know I tried all I could to come round to your wishes. Though wliy you should think Sir Peter such a desirable son-in-law, I fail to see." " I don't suppose," remarked Mrs. Wilding tartly, " that the sentiment would appear so very singular in the eyes of any one, except a conceited girl." "Eeally," observed her daughter with a half laugh," you seem very anxious to get rid of me, mama. " You are an ungrateful girl 1 " exclaimed Mrs. Wilding, the tears in her eyes. " You know one reason," and she paused truthfully, " why I wished you to take Sir Peter, was that you would then be always near me." " Nobody but you, wanted me to have him, mama ; everyone else dislikes him." " Who didn't want you ? " enquired her mother. " Detta, I suppose ? Did she advise you against it ? " " She certainly gave me her opinion." " What right has she to give her opinion ? It is exceedingly impertinent of her to put herself forward in such a matter. It has SIR PETER PUT DO,Vy. 15 J nothing to do with her, and she is a mere child." " She is a very sensible and good child/' said Eva. Mrs. Wilding tapped the floor impatiently with her foot. " So it was she who persuaded you against it ? You are a goose, Eva, to allow yourself to be led by a romantic girl of eighteen." Eveleen made no reply ; and her mother continued, with increasing indignation, " I did not expect such ingratitude of Benedetta — a mere pauper like her, taken into my house out of charity, to fly in my face and cabal against my wishes ! " " Mama, it is not fair to call her a pauper. You know she has something of her own." " A paltry forty pounds a year — what is it ? — which of course I would not touch, as you know, Eva. But, if she is going to behave in this way, she had better look out for another home ! " "Mama, don't go into a passion. You know you are fond of Benedetta, and she of you. She wasn't the only person who was IGO IN THE OLD PALAZZO. flatteriniT enoui:^!! to think me too orood for Sir Peter. Beresford thought just the same about it." " Ah ! " said Mrs. Wilding, her face clearing as if by magic, " of course he would ! He would'nt care much for the Manor if you were gone, Eva.'^ " We are very good friends," remarked Eva, carelessly. " He is very fond of you," said Mrs. Wilding tentatively, almost timidly. But Eva laughed her clear ringing laugh. " Mama, you are gone mad on match-making to-day ! Do put all such ideas out of your head, at any rate as regards Beresford and myself." " You know best, my dear," said her mother^ half offended. "Yes, mama, I do know. Any one with eyes in their head can see that Beresford is head over ears in love with Detta." " With Detta ! " exclaimed her mother aghast. "Nonsense, Eva, you are too ima- ginative." The intelligence was undoubtedly a blow to SIR PETER PUT DOWN. 161 lier, and probably added not a little to the feelings of irritation which were beginning to make themselves felt in her breast against her orphaned niece. 'Benedetta is an interloper,' she said to herself, with a sore feeling, as she left her daughter's room. ' Her presence here disturbs my plans and destroys my com- fort.' Up to this time she and her niece had been on the most cordial and friendly of term.s, but from this date Benedetta began to feel that there was some indefinite change in her aunt's manner, and some secret suspicion harboured against her in her heart. It did not take her long to discover this, for she was sensitive to a fault in her appreciation of the looks and conduct of those she loved ; but she was too proud to ask for an explanation where she knew she had done nothing wrong, and knowing Mrs. Wilding's impetuous dis- position, hoped that the cloud might soon blow over. But it was this perhaps which induced her, towards the end of Lady Dumbarton's visit, VOL. I. 11 162 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. to accept an invitation from that lady to visit her shortly in the north of England. Lady Dumbarton had asked her to return at once with her ; but this Benedetta explained, in her little peculiar way, she could not do. " I might miss Ino," she said, " and that would never do. It would disappoint him so terribly, and me too, for Oh ! I do long so to hear all the news, and how the Maestro goes on. I shall know in a few days now, most likely, and then I will write to you at Steynton." Lady Dumbarton was not altogether satis- fied with this decision. She was an exceed- irg strict and proper-minded old lady, to whom not even the fact of extreme intimacy in childhood appeared to justify her niece in thus awaiting the advent of a young man with so much affectionate eagerness, and arranging her plans in accordance with his. " It is a pity," she remarked to her sister, " that these unfortunate Italian acquaintances cannot be dropped. After a six years' sepa- ration, livino- in En^^land amonc^st educated people, one would have thought that Bene- SIR PETER PUT DOWN. 163 detta might have forgotten her peasant friends." " They are a low lot," said Mrs. Wilding. "I suppose it's in her blood, and she can't help it." For, for once in her life, Mrs. Wilding, owing to the new irritation against her niece, was disposed to agree with her usually an- tagonistic visitor. " It all comes of Edward marrying beneath himself," remarked Lady Dumbarton severely. " As for this young man, who, or what is he ? " " An artist, or a fiddler, or something of • that sort," returned Mrs. Wilding, with aristo- cratic indifference. " I'm sure I can't re- member." "Anyhow, a most undesirable companion for Benedetta," "He is very good-looking," remarked Mrs. Wilding, a sudden vision of the southern face, with its classic-cut features and boyish sweet- ness — as she saw it that afternoon six years ago at Miss Horton's school — recurring to her mind. " At least, he was." 11* 164 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. " Worse and worse," said her half-sister solemnly. " Good Heavens ! only imagine if Benedetta were to fancy herself in love with him. She is painfully romantic." " It would be a dreadful thing," said Mrs. Wilding, to whom however the idea presented itself at the present moment not altogether as a misfortune without mitigations. " But," she added curtly, " I don't see the romance in her. I only wish Eveleen were half as ready to set her cap at a good match." Lady Dumbarton was, in her way, a just woman. She was also, in her way, fond of her youngest niece. " That is an unfounded remark, Fann}^,'* she said decisively. " In my opinion, Detta is not the girl to set her cap at any man. As for Eveleen, considering your bringing up, she is, perhaps, less entirely worldly than might have been expected. But the utterance of such a wish — I fear, a true one — is only too lowering to yourself." "Ah! well," said Mrs. Wilding, "some people say what they think, and others say what they think will sound well. I belong to SIR PETER PUT DOWN. 165 the former class, though I believe the latter get on best m the world.'' And so the inter- view, which, contrary to most interviews between the two sisters, began in harmony, ended as usual in a declaration of war. -^^w^-^- CHAPTEE XI. GOOD ADVICE. D ETTA'S letter arrived sooner than slie ex- pected, and several days before Lady- Dumbarton's departure northwards. It hap- pened also to be the day on which Beresford Conway had at length decided to leave the Manor. From day to day his departure had been put off, until he had spent more than three weeks at his cousin's house. Now, how- ever, he really was going ; and his horses had preceded him that morning to that particular part of Berkshire where he intended to spend the rest of the hunting season. Benedetta happened to be alone in the library when he descended, a little earlier than usual, dressed for dinner. She was looking out a book in the shelves, softly humming an operatic air to herself as she did so. GOOD ADVICE. 167 " Can I assist you ? " lie asked, coming for- ward, with perhaps a little secret disgust at the inopportune jo3^ousness of her look and manner. For did not he himself feel a vague and unusual regret this last evening of his stay? • " Oh, no, thanks," she said, " I really don't know what I was looking for. I feel too happy to settle to an^^thing." " Why are you so happy ? " inquired Beres- ford, who had not heard of the arrival of the Eoman letter. " Ino is coming," she said, her eyes dancing. " He will be in England in a few days.." " Ah," said Mr. Conw^ay, in his slowest and most haw-haw manner ; " that is the young man wdiose praises you sung to me the night of my cousin's ball, I believe ? He seems a great favourite of yours." " Of course he is," she replied. " He was like a brother to me. And he wall tell me all the home new^s, and about the dear Maestro ! " " So you call it home still, do you ? " he inquired curiously. 168 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. She blushed a little. " All," slie said, smiling, " when I think of them — of Ino and Pi|)po, and the Maestro — then Eome seems to me to be home again ; but when I think of Eva," she paused, " and — the others — then England seems my home." " But," he said provokingly, " there is no one in England whose coming would cause you so much joy as this Ino's ? " She closed her book with a little gesture of impatience. " I can't tell," she said. " Why do you compare ?" " And Ino, I suppose," pursued Mr. Con- way, " will come down here at once to see you ? " " Why, of course he will ! But he cannot come often or stop long. He will be too busy for that." "Ah, I remember," said her companion, " he is the young man who is — my antipodes — one of the energetic serviceable bees of this world, as compared to — a — the useless and despicable drones like myself." GOOD ADVICE. 169 " I never used such rude words," said Detta, half- vexed, half-puzzled by the latent sarcasm of his manner. " Forgive me. I did not mean to accuse you of impoliteness. But I think your senti- ments were to that effect." She remained silent. " I perceive,'' he said slowly, his eyes still fixed upon her face, " that you will have no respect for me, until I obtain some honest em- ployment. It must be a simple one, I fear, for years of idleness, and natural deficiency minimise the paths of occupation open to me. Possibly," he continued languidly, "I should be best suited for a club porter. I might — a — learn to run errands and open the door when the hansoms drove up.'' "I dont think," she retorted, '' that you would ever do either well. You would be late for all your errands, for I am sure you could not run ; and, if you sat in the hall, you would go to sleep instead of opening the door." " Then," he said, " there is nothing left for me but to end life as I began it. T may as 170 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. well go comfortably into Berkshire ; and if I don't break my neck in the hunting-field, re-appear in town in time for the season. You see, Miss Campbell," he continued, a look of humour in his eyes, " you are like most reformers ; you put your finger upon the evil and cry out for a remedy, but — a — when called upon, cannot suggest any practical remedy. I am wise to be a conservative." Detta glanced suddenly towards him, whilst the colour rushed into her face. He felt in- stinctively 'that she had something in her mind which she was too shy to make known to him. " Well ? " he asked smiling, " Have you discovered my vocation ? Please tell me," he added, as she hesitated. Thus invited," Detta raised her clear dark eyes full to his. " If you want to work," she said, " why don't you do something for those poor people of yours in London ? " Mr. Conway looked somewhat taken aback. GOOD ADVICE, 171 "Who told you of those poor people in. London ? " he asked. "Eveleen told me that you had property there, and that some of it was amongst the back slums of the City." " Did she tell you ^that I was a neglectful landlord? " he asked, amused. Benedetta's face was crimson ; but she stuck to her colours manfully, although her words evidently cost her an effort. " Eveleen told me very little about it, and I did not ask. But I have been in London, and I known what back slums are. I have driven through them once or twice ; and Oh, the people looked so wretched and starved and sickly and bad, that I have longed to go and do something for them. Are yours like that ? " Beresford Conway re-adjusted his eye-glass, and looked perplexed. " I am afraid I can't tell you," he said ; " my agent looks after the property. I don't know that I have ever been in the place myself; but, judging from the situation, your description is probably not far wrong." 172 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. " Oh," said Detta, the colour again mount- ing to her face with the eagerness of her words, " then how can you leave them so ? " "I am afraid," he replied, observing her closely, " I never thought much about it. But what could I do. Miss Campbell ? I can't take round a basket of tracts, nor even basins of soup. I don't know much about what ladies — a — call visiting the poor, but I fancy it resolves itself chiefl}^ into a combination of those two acts of benevolence, does it not ? " Benedetta, full of her warm-hearted young earnestness, turned upon him an impatient face, glowing with reproach. " Why do you sneer at everything ? " she asked. " Do you do nothing for them ? " " Very little, I am afraid," he replied, still watching her curiously, and totally forgetting the fact of some considerable subscriptions and rent remissions which had, from time to time, been taken out of his pocket to relieve the needs and necessities of the Whitechapel poor. '• I beg your pardon," he continued, with half quizzical humility. " Teach me GOOD ADVICE. 173 better, and I will -learn. What would you do?" " There are such hundreds of things," she exclaimed, breathlessly. " Why don't you build them Coffee Houses and Eeading Eooms ? or better than all, give them really good, healthy houses to live in — Model lodg- ing houses, or that sort of thing ? And then," she continued, with growing enthu- siasm, " I would have a Eagged School for the children, and Evening Lectures for the men and women. And the drainage should be perfect, of course. And there should be washing troughs for the women, and no erfd of pumps with fresh, sweet water ; and open fountains for the poor over-worked horses and cattle and stray dogs." She paused suddenly. "I beg your pardon. I hope I haven't been rude ? " "Not at all," he rephed. "It is so easy to talk, is it not?" she added with humility. " It is — a — very improving to listen," said Mr. Conway. As he spoke, he pulled out his pocketbook. 174 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. " Let me see," he said, " your heads were admirable, but somewhat numerous." And he wrote down in his book : — "Coffee Houses, Libraries, Eagged School, Lectures, Drains, Pumps, Fountains, Model Lodging-houses." " Is that all ? " he asked, placing the open leaf before her. " You are making fun of me again," said Detta. There was no anger in her voice, but a little genuine disappointment. " Nothincr is further from my intentions," he replied, closing the book. " This leaf will go up to my agent. He will probably object to many of the reforms, but some of them he will carry out, I daresay." Detta had never looked more beautiful, at any rate to her present companion, than now, as she turned towards him, her face full of joyous gratitude. " Do you really mean it ? " she asked. " How good you are to make up your mind so quickly ! But why," she continued, a shy GOOD ADVICE. 175 pleading in her tone, " don't you make that agent do what 3^ou wish? " " Perhaps I may," replied Mr. Conway, a little absently, holding for a moment in his the hand that Benedetta, in her sudden access of gratitude, had half unconsciously held out towards him. It was, perhaps, as well that the person who entered the room at this moment, was none other than Eveleen. Eva could be discretion itself at times, speciall}^ when any pet project of her own was in view. By nature, she had a large heart and a generous mind. She was totally free from those petty jealousieit which rankle in the breasts of so many girls, and make it impossible for them to regard with equanimit}^ attentions paid to another by an old admirer of their own, even when they have no desire themselves to transform that old admirer into a lover. Eveleen had made up her mind that Detta was the very wife to suit her cousin Beresford ; while — as to the possibility of Mr. Conway's failing to fascinate Dstta — she might be excused for thinking (judging from 176 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. liis career up to the present date) that a contingency too remote for contemplation. It was, perhaps, also excusable if Mr. Conway himself possibly regarded the matter in the same light. He had never as yet met with any rebuffs from the feminine world ; and, it having been the general and openly expressed opinion of society for fifteen years, that his attractions were irresistible ; it was perhaps natural that of late he had acquired the habit of acqui- escing in the opinion. It was not surprising that Eveleen, entering when she did, should feel her previous suspicions considerably strengthened. She was in time to catch the glow of fervour expressed upon Benedetta's upturned face ; even to witness the sudden loosening of the brief hand-clasp ; while her quick vision fancied it detected an unusual look in Mr. Conway's eyes — one more nearly approaching to tenderness than she had perhaps ever conceived it possible for those somewhat inexpressive features to assume. But, however important she deemed her discoveries, Miss Wilding kept them to herself, GO OB ADVICE. 177 feeling only a little disgusted when, as time wore on, Detta communicated to lier no interesting confidences. But lier quickened senses did not fail to overhear the next morning Mr. Conway's good-bye to her cousin. " When you come up to Town," he said, " you will have — a — to inspect the reforms, and see if they are rightly carried out." This speech puzzled Eveleen, as also did the full cordiality of the answering smile which rose to Detta's face ; and she began to question herself, as to whether it might not be possible that she had attached a more romantic meaning to her young companion's* blushing gratitude than the veritable one. ''^=-^-^W-^^-'^^ VOL. I. 12 CHAPTEE XII. A TAME SCULPTOR, A FEW days after Mr. Conway's departure, Lady Dumbarton, with her retinue of companion, maid, and lap-dog, also left Ashley Manor. Benedetta had gained her own way, as regarded delaying her visit to the North ; and indeed, as Beresford Conway's shadow faded in the distance, and Mrs. Wilding's short-lived irritation calmed itself down, the latter changed her opinion, and acquiesced good-humouredly enough in the girl's natural desire to meet her old playfellow. Eaffaelino Bartolucci gradually began, in Mrs. Wilding's eyes, to approve himself as by no means an unsuitable companion for her niece Bene- detta. After all, it was creditable enough to the child that she should wish to keep up old friends. " If there be one thing A TAME SCULPTOB. 179 more than another which I detest," she said to her daughter Eva, " it is when people, who have risen from the ranks, become too grand for their old acquaintances. That is not true gentility. I am glad that Benedetta is not guilty of such snobbishness." Eveleen smiled her little silent, half-sarcastic smile. She had a less convenient memory, and had not 5^et forgotten her mother's conversation on the subject with Aunt Dumbarton. She guessed pretty accurately what was in the wind now, as she expressed it to herself ; but felt no obligation to disturb her mother by in- terference ; and merely stood by with curiosity to watch the course of coming events. But, if Mrs. Wilding was prepared before- hand to regard the young Italian with feelings of very modified disapproval, his first visit chano^ed her sentiments into those of almost unqualified admiration. As Eva expressed it to her friends, "Mamma and I have both fallen head over ears in love with an idyllic Eoman sculptor." Six years had indeed greatly improved 12* ISO IN THE OLD PALAZZO. Eaffaello, botli in manners and appearance. His tall figure was still somewhat slightly made ; but, in other respects, he seemed a man in the prime of life. He had the same deep, poetic eyes, the same white forehead and curling black hair, and the same almost perfect features ; but a thick black moustache now shaded the lower part of his face, and rendered it even more picturesque than before. He had been thrown of late years a good deal into society — the mixed^ brilliant, intellectual society of Rome ; and, by nature always a gentleman, had needed little of such intercourse to acquire that outward polish which is the visible sign of social standing. He .was a man who would be at home anywhere ; and always the same, whether in the drawing-room of a princess, or the cabin of a peasant ; and in the grace of whose manner there was a gentle humility which yet did not approach self depreciation. He did not delay visiting his former little companion ; and the morning after his arrival in England was ushered into the drawing-room at Ashley Manor. A TAME SCULPTOR. m His appearance at once won over Mrs. Wilding, who received him graciously and insisted on his remaining to luncheon. As it happened, all three ladies were in the room when he entered ; and Eveleen observed with some curiosity the meeting between Detta and her old friend. She noticed that the young Italian, even while making his salu- tations to the lady of the house, had allowed an eager glance to wander for a moment round the room, and that when Benedetta came forward, her eyes sparkling, lips smiling, and hands outstretched, that the colour mounted into the young man's olive cheeks with a flood of crimson, as, taking both her hands in his, he bowed over them without a word. " Why, Ino," she said simply, " I should scarcely have known you with that great moustache, it alters you so. Oh ! but it is nice to see someone again from dear old Eome. Six years ago, Ino — only fancy ! " " It is a long time," said Ino, as he bowed towards Eveleen, and took, with ceremonious respect, the hand she held out towards him. 182 IiY THE OLD PALAZZO. "We must not be strangers, you know," said Eva, whose warm likings or dislikings were generally adopted at a first intro- duction. " We are friends already. I liave heard so much of you, when Detta w^as a little girl." Ino blushed again, and his emotional face expressed the surprise and gratitude he ex- perienced at these kindly greetings on all sides. Were these the cold English of whose hauteur he had heard so often — quite as much from their own Bohemian compatriots in the Eternal city as from his countrymen ? Could anything be less stiff, more free and social, almost affectionate, than the terms on which he at once found himself in Mrs. Wilding's house ? He had been prepared for snubbing, to be endured for Detta's sake, and lo ! he met with nothing but friendliness and encourage- ment. Eaffaello was an unsophisticated, humble sort of being, notwithstanding his manly exterior and his good manner. He did not allow for the whimsical impulses of the fair sex all over the world, nor consider how far an attractive appearance was calculated to A TAME SCULPTOR. 183 disarm hostility. Nor was lie likely, from liis nationality and bringing-up, to be in a posi- tion to divine Mrs. Wilding's secret penchant for a new and poetic lion, such as was the possession of a talented 5^oung sculptor from Eome, with features like the world-famed statues of his own city, and a voice and manner absolutely unique amongst the denizens of her own more prosaic country. His origin, she reflected, would be totally un- known in London, and whatever the fashion of his speech in his own country, his broken English would, she decided, sound as refined and bewitching to her friends as it did to her- self. Mrs. Wilding was in high good humour that day, and acquiesced pleasantly when, after lunch, Benedetta offered to take her old playfellow for a walk. Ino's eyes sparkled at the suggestion, which he had indeed been lono^ing to make ; but, owing to personal acquaintance with the strict manners of his countrywomen, and the faint credence he had given to statements of the greater freedom of English girls, had not ventured to think would be encouraged by the lady of the house. 184 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. " Ah ! it is good to see you again, Ino," re- peated Benedetta, as side by side tliey paced quickly on in the bright frosty air. " It seems to make me feel again as if I were the little Piccola that used to quarrel with Pippo in the courtyard, and go rambling with you about our dear old Eome ! " As she spoke she held out her hand again impulsively, and, gloved though it was, Ino raised it to his lips. " It is a long time ago," he repeated softly. " That is not like a speech from an Italian," laughed Detta gaily, "to tell me I am growing old ! " " Ah ! signorina mia, you have not yet reached the full bloom of life. To one of your age every advancing year brings but a fresh charm." " What lady has taught you to make such pretty speeches ? " asked Detta. " But, Ino, there are two things I will have you do." " And they are ? " he asked. " The first, is to leave off calling me ' signorina.' Why, it is ridiculous ! I was never anything but little Detta to you." A TAME SCULPTOR. 185 " But that is six years ago.'* " Why should six years make any difference between friends like you and me ? / am not changed." " Ah ! *' exclaimed the young man, while a flood of colour rushed into his cheeks, " but I am ! " His words, however, were spoken too softly for his companion to overhear. "I will do as you ask, Detta," he replied aloud. "The other thing," she said, "is to give up talking this stupid English. I must congratu- late you on the amount you have picked up ; but Oh, Ino, I want to be back in Eome agaia for the next hour ! So now," she continued, suddenly falling into the tongue of her child- hood, " tell me about my dear, dear Maestro. How is he?" " He is not ill,'' said Ino, " but he is feeble. He seems growing old before his time. He has given up all work at the Orchestra now, and only gives private lessons." " Is he lonely, Ino ? " "He and I live together when I am in Eome, and you know, Detta mia, he was 18G J.V 'HIE OLD PALAZZO. never a man to love much company. When I go back, I will be with him again, if God and my work permit of it." " I long to go to him," said Detta, the tears rising to her eyes ; " Ino, does he not wish to see me back, does he not want me some- times ? " "Does any one who has known the sun- shine not wish at times for its return ? " he asked. And the words, which would have been affected in the mouth of an Englishman, were the simple expression of thought in the impulsive and imaginative Southerner. " But," he added, " he has grown used to solitude. He never seems to be alone, for his violin is always speaking to him when no one else is by. Pippo is gone, you know. Ah, I wish you could have seen Pippo before he started. He has grown into such a fine, strong, active young man. He is hand- some to look at, and as fair as an Englishman. He has become gentle too now, and is quite changed from the days when he used to teaze our little Piccola so sorely." A TAME SCULPTOR. 187 " And Piccola used to run for protection to you," laughed Detta. " All, Dio ! " lie exclaimed earnestly. " Would I not protect you still through any danger this earth could offer, and feel it too much joy ? " Detta smiled aofain. She thousfht Ino had acquired the habit of saying soft speeches. It did not strike her that her old companion in- tended to convey any serious meaning by his words ; nor that Eaffaello, with the sudden, passionate impulse of his race and of his dis- position, was every moment falling more deeply in love with the gracious and graceful maiden, who in her childhood had been to him as a dear little sister. The walk was a long one, for Benedetta's desire to learn all about old friends and old haunts was not easily satisfied ; and the mere mention of the name of a street, a Porta, or a person, was sufficient to make both pause and eagerly recall particular walks, favourite views, half -forgotten conversations, or half- obliterated incidents. Nevertheless it was far too short for KaiFaello, who would have been 188 l^' THJE OLD PALAZZO. only too liappy to go on till nightfall dis- cussing tlie tender memories of the old days with his newly-found companion. But twi- light waits for no man, still less do express trains ; and the first having warned Benedetta to return homewards, a remembrance of the second forced itself upon the mind of the cap- tivated Ino. "How loni? are you cjoino^ to remain in Town V " asked Mrs. Wilding, as the young man began making his grateful adieux. " Two or three months, it is possible, sig- nora," he replied. " It is my w^ork wall fix the time of my departure." " Ah, then we shall hope to see you again in London," said his hostess. " You must be sure to come and call on us,'* added Eva cordially. " You had better tell us your address now." The young sculptor returned to Town, his mind full of pleasurable emotioPiS. They were both charming ; the fair, stout, middle- aged lady, whose brow was still so unwrinkled and her complexion so bright — a brow and complexion such as few women in his own A TAME SCULPTOR. 189 country would have preserved after tliirty — and the lovel}^, sprightly, golden-haired Sig- norina, whose expression was so spirituelle, and whose features were so full of a mingled 'malice ' and kindliness. The pair were indeed pleasing specimens, he told himself, of the high-bred English- woman, of whom he had before his cominor entertained so unfounded a dread. While, as for his old playfellow " Ah, Benedetta mia," he said softly to him- self, " you are the fairest flower from mine own country that was ever grafted upon a foreign stalk ; a man might live and die for you without reward. Who could help loving you?" His agreeable reflections continued unin- terrupted until the stoppage of the train at the London terminus, where he got out, and, still half-dreaming, made his way through the crowds blocking up the station. He was by disposition at all times gentle and courteous ; but these qualities were perhaps more apparent even than usual to-night— for which of us is not unconsciously more tolerant with 190 JiV THE OLD PALAZZO. the world at large when we are ourselves in a happy frame of mind ? And many a busy man or anxious woman, who at length, in an- swer to the softly-worded request, gave way to let him pass, felt the half scowl on their features relax into something like a smile, as they glanced up and caught a sight of the beautiful young face. For if the classic out- lines of KafFaello Bartolucci's features had been a thing to attract the attention of passers-b}^ in his own city of Eome, where beautiful forms are so abundant and grace of movement is so common, they were not likely to escape observation among the far less highly-favoured countenances of our modern Babylon. CHAPTER XIII. two's company, three's none. D ETTA'S promised visit to Steynton was fated to be deferred. Shortly before the time when she was to have left the Manor there arrived for her a letter from Miss Sparke, written in a style of lugubrious resignation to the will of Providence, and informinof her that she was requested by Lady Dumbarton to say that it had pleased Heaven to afflict her with a serious attack of rheumatic gout, which confined her to her bed, and which made it impossible for her, for the present, to receive visitors. She trusted, however, as she was already beginning to recover, to be able to see her niece in the course of another week or two, when she would again communicate with her. " It grieves me," said Miss Sparke, " to be 192 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. the inditer of these painful tidings, knowing how justly dear to all at the Manor is your beloved and revered aunt ; and my only con- solation is the being able to temper your anxiety by imparting our well-founded hope that the worst is now over." This epistle excited wrath in Mrs. Wilding's bosom. " Fiddlesticks ! " she exclaimed, w^hen alone with her daughter. " What a toady the woman is, and what gammon she loves to write. She knows as well as possible that Maria hates me, and that I hate Maria ! She tells lies simply from an innate love of humbug ! " " Mama," said Eva, with a doubtful increase of charity, " you forget, some people are like cats, they must have everything soft and plea- sant to the touch around them, even at the expense of truth. And, after all, it mayn't be quite such humbug written to Detta. I have a suspicion that Detta respects Aunt Dum- barton quite as much as she does either you or I." After the receipt of this letter Mrs. Wilding TWO'S COMPANY, THREE'S NONE. 193 endeavoured to convince her niece of the desirability of her accompanying them to town. " By the time your aunt has got over all her aches and pains, real and fancied," she remarked, " it will be about time for us to start, and it would really spoil my pleasure to send you up to vegetate in that bleak York- shire desert just when Eva and myself will be beginning our fun. No, no," continued the really good-natured woman, who had by now completely recovered from her temporary suspicions and her temporary loss of ami- ability towards her young relative, " you shajl make acquaintance with our London friends and go everywhere with Eva. You shall have your chance as well as others. And," she added pleasantly, " I don't know that I shall be told that my two girls are the plainest and least agreeable out this season." In making these remarks, Mrs. Wilding had felt herself — perhaps not unnaturally — to be a magnanimous person. She did not suspect how one at least of her expressions, common enough, no doubt, in the fashionable world, VOL. I. 13 194 IiY THE OLD PALAZZO. but unpleasantly suggestive to the mind of one young and simple-liearted — liad grated upon the girl's ears. Dettahad flushed deeply with mingled pride and disgust at her aunt's suggestion that she was to be allowed to " have her chance," but the flush, which Mrs. Wilding assumed to be one of pleasure, only served to confirm that lady in her good- natured resolve. ' Poor Edward,' she thought, ' no onB shall say that I do not do my duty by his child. I will treat her like my own. This going up to town is, of course, an expense, and it is plea- santer to chaperone one girl than two, but she shall go, and in every respect shall share Eva's advantages.' And Mrs. Wildinof was so determined upon the point, that Detta, who was at first averse to the proposition, had to give way ; but she took the occasion of laying before her aunt, somewhat abruptly, certain ideas which of late had shaped themselves in her mind. " Aunt Fanny," she said, " I can't go on living upon you always. I will go up to London with you, and then I will visit Aunt TWO'S COMPAXY, THREE'S NOXE. 195 Dambartoii. But, after that, I must do some- tliiui^. I must either work for my living here ill England " " Good gracious ! " exclaimed Mrs. Wilding, jumping up, indignation expressed in her face and tone, " that you shall never do ! What do you mean by proposing such a thing ? " " Or," continued Detta, " I can return and keep house for the Maestro. That I think would be the best plan. I have almost enough to keep myself there," she added in an undertone, " and Oh ! how I should love to brighten his life ! " " Now I call that very ungrateful of jow, Detta," said her aunt. " Have I not," she con- tinued, with a slight twinge of conscience, " always told you how welcome you are here, and treated you almost like a daughter ? " " Dear aunt," said Detta, putting her arm around the elder lady's neck, and generously ignoring the brief glacial period that had supervened upon Eveleen's rejection of Sir Peter, " you have always been kindness itself to me. And, as for Eva, I don't know how I should do without her." 13* 196 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. " She would miss you liorribly," remarked Mrs. Wilding. '' She is devoted to you. Indeed, it sometimes seems to me that she thinks quite as much of your opinion as of mine. 1 am sure she did in the matter of Sir Peter Galloway. And," she added with a friendly little smile, " I don't mind telling you now, Detta dear, that I was a little, just a very little, annoyed with you for the prominent part you took just then. It is all over now, however, and I am sure that you are too good and kind a girl ever again to thwart my wishes intentionally." " I am sorry I vexed you," said her niece simply. " I could not help speaking. He would have made her miserable." " Well, the end of it all will be that she will marry nobody," said Mrs. Wilding. " She snubs every man who comes near her, and it is not to be expected that they will put up with it." " I know of no one half good enough for her," observed Detta. " I know of somebody," returned her aunt, *' good enough to satisfy any girl ; and, TWO'S CO 21 PA NY, THREirS NOXE. 197 between ourselves, Detta, I don't mind telling you that the match would give me great pleasure. I know you are a discreet little girl," she added, fixing her eyes upon Detta's countenance ; " it is her cousin, Beresford Conway." Whatever ma}^ have been her suspicions, they were dissolved by Benedetta's rejoinder. " He isn't half good enough," asserted the girl. " Besides," she added, " there would be two objections to that. I am sure she doesn't care for him, and I don't think he is in love with her." " As reo^ards her not caringr for him in that way, that's true enough, perhaps," returned her aunt sharply, " since, as I said before, Eva makes a point of not caring for anybody, and will probably go on doing so, if you encourage her. As regards Beresford, he is not a man to put himself forward for a rebuff; but all the county knows that he has been hanging about Eva for the last three years, waiting for a word of encouragement from her." Benedetta made no reply to this, and the conversation closed somewhat abruptl}^ ]98 IX THE OLD PALAZZO. This liad all passed, however, a week or two before their coming up to town. Mrs. Wilding's visit to London was com- paratively a short one, and she and her party were not of those who enter into the vortex of that melancholy Carnival, the London season. Her means were too limited to permit of her hiring a house for the full period, so she had established herself in a comfortable hotel situated in the vicinity of Hanover Square ; and, although she had a good many friends and acquaintances, they were by no means all members of the gayest and most fashionable set. Hence it came to pass that, although invitations were fairly numerous, and that her young charges went out a good deal, yet that they were not overburdened by that conglomerate mass of so-called pleasure which yearly enfeebles the constitutions and ruins the nerves of so many healthy, happy young English maidens. When they went out they were not too tired to enjoy themselves thoroughly, whether at morning ride, or eveninf^ dance, concert or theatre ; and it was perhaps to this fact, which left their minds TWO'S COMPANY, THREE'S NONE, 199 unjaded and their spirits still fresh and bright, as much as to that of the good looks of both, that the two girls owed their undeniable popularity. Both Eveleen and Benedetta were greatly admired. In their small w^ay each was considered a beauty, and it is doubtful whether Eveleen, with her little piquante person and fair features, or Benedetta with. her Italian grace, and the sweet seriousness of extreme youth upon her creamy-tinted oval face, were the most sought after. Mrs. Wilding was in high good-humour : and, apart from any ulterior motive, was conscious of 2r genuine satisfaction in the social success of her two young people. Mr. Conway was again in town ; and, as a rule, found time to spend a portion of every day at his cousin's rooms. He had taken upon himself an air of ancient proprietorship and cousinly chaperonage that greatly amused both Eveleen and her mother. He would escort the two girls for their ride in the Eow most mornings, and was generally to be found in the sofa corner at afternoon tea-time. He 2C0 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. seemed, however, Delta thought — perhaps through the enervatmg effects of the London season, which probably pressed upon him more heavily than it did upon them — to have become more taciturn, more didactic, and more haw-haw than before. " That's his Town manner," remarked Eva promptly, when one day Benedetta ventured to intimate to her cousin her opinion on this subject; "it's infectious: every man does it here, more or less." " They do," said Detta. " I can't bear it ; they are just like so many half-dead fish. Their very fingers are so limp they don't know how to shake hands ; and their eyes are always half- shut and their mouths half-open, like the cod on the fishmongers' stalls. And when the}^ do speak, which isn't often, a sentence seems to exhaust them utterl}^ Why do they go out if they don't like it ? I love dancing, Eva ; it seems part of me; but sometimes I think I won't go to any more balls here in London, but will wait till I can get a partner again who really cares for a waltz, and doesn't do it out of duty." TWO'S COMPANY, THIIJSE'S NONE. 201 " You had better not," laughed Eva ; " there would be no end of a row if you were to promulgate such an idea before Mama." Notwithstanding its many enjoyments, the routine of town life did not approve itself to Benedetta's mind on all points. She had an ardent appetite for real pleasure, but a deep scorn of those conventional pleasures which to her were no pleasures at all. No one could dance more lightly, laugh more heartily, or canter through the fresh spring air more glee- fully than she; but the mere occupation of seeing and being seen was to her at all times a wearisome and obnoxious one. % " Eveleen, dear," she said one evening about a fortnight after their arrival, " must we really ride in that dreadful Eow any more ? It is so kind of Aunt Fanny to let me have the horse ; but it is really too dull. Couldn't we go out into the country somewhere ? " Eveleen pulled a face. She was by no means superior to the exigencies of fashion, and the habits of those about her. " Good gracious — the country ! " she ex- claimed aghast ; " who on earth ever dreams 202 I.y THE OLD PALAZZO. of going into the country ? Why, we should see nobody we know." " That's the thing," said Detta ; " I am so tired of seeing the same faces again and again, and hearing the same hmguid remarks. It would be so delicious to feel real grass under one's feet, and to be able to take a real gallop without fearing collision." " Lath and plaster houses — cheap villa residences, — and dusty rag-and-bottle-covered commons most likely, instead of the ' real grass ' ! " retorted Eva ironically. " Is she not a strange girl, Beresford ? " " Miss Campbell," remarked Mr. Conway in his slowest and most deliberate tone, " has the misfortune to be original in her ideas. That is an error which should be stamped out in earliest youth. No woman should think for herself." " It is a pernicious habit often acquired, I observe, by living in the country," said Eva laughing. " People have so little to do there, that, if they happen to have any minds at all, they are almost forced, for want of a better occupation, to employ them. But do I really TWO'S C03IFAKY, 'IHllUE'S NONE. 203 understand you, Beresford, that you too have a romantic hankering after the rag-and-bottle common ? " " We might, if we — a — -exerted ourselves, perhaps get beyond the rag-and-bottle common," was his reply. " I am worse than Miss Campbell. I am not only sick of my kind, but of myself also." " Poor Beresford ! " said his cousin ; " your liver must be out order. We must get you a tonic." " And a country ride will give us all that," remarked Detta. Thus outnumbered, Eveleen had to give in^ The country ride next morning was under- taken and enjoyed ; nor was it the last of the kind, as Benedetta adhered to her resolution to patronise no more the Lady's Mile. Among the enjoyments offered by their London visit, none perhaps pleased the half- foreign girl better than a few quiet mornings spent amid old masters at the picture gal- leries. Eaflaelino Bartolucci usually found time to be one of the party on these occasions, and would then, naturally enough, fall into 204 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. his place beside Benedetta, wliilst Mr. Conway dropped behind with his cousin. Ino's love of art and appreciative knowledge of painting made him at such times a useful and agreeable companion ; and Detta was well pleased to learn from his eager lips, and to improve her own judgment by his more experienced criticism — unsuspecting that the eloquence of the young man's speech was less due to enthusiasm felt for his subject than to the sudden rush of feeling inspired by her own unconscious, upturned face, with its dark questioning eyes, and full, sweet mouth. Often too, in the evenings, when it w^as as yet too early to prepare for the night's festivity, or when, perhaps, he had been invited to share a quiet dinner and afterwards to accompany the three ladies to some musical or theatrical entertainment, the young Italian, made quite at home in Mrs. Wilding's snug little drawing room, would pass an hour or tw^o of dream- like happiness, his eyes fixed upon Detta as she moved about the room, or, perhaps, by general request, sat down before the piano to sing away the gloaming. The girl's voice TWO'S COJIPAJVF, TIUIEE'S XOXE. 205 was a rare one — tender, deep, and powerful. She had, in respect of this gift, more than fulfilled the promise of her childhood ; and Ino, though in love, held no exaggerated opinion in believing it one amongst a thousand in its power to move the emotions of an audience. In singing, Benedetta, like every true artist, forgot herself ; and the half latent intensity that lay beneath her outwardly quiet demeanour, seemed then to break loose, and give free vent to its expression. She was herself always moved when she sang, she knew not why — the force within her seemed greater than herself ; and although, as a rule, < of a reticent disposition, yet an emotion she had never defined then often left her eyes moist and her heart beating fast. Day by day the young sculptor became more deeply, more helplessly enamoured of his old playfellow ; and day by day he found it possible to spare more time from his work in order to pass the hours by Benedetta's side. For a time, however, not a word of love escaped his lips, although the girl herself 206 jy IIIJH^' OLD PALAZZO. was perhaps the only one of the party to whom the fact was not apparent. Eveleen stood by, curious, but silent. She hated interference in such matters, and spoke never a word, nor made even the smallest reference to the subject to her cousin. But she was not a little interested to observe the course of events. Mrs. Wilding, on her part, seemed rather pleased than otherwise with affairs in general. From some unexplained reason the subject was avoided between her- self and her daughter ; but her cordiality to the young Italian was unabated, and she indeed even appeared to encourage his constant attendance upon her niece. ' He seems a good steady young man — he is a rising genius — he will very likely be a great man some day They have loved each other from childhood. Benedetta is by nature more than half Italian ; and, with her romantic dis- position, would after all be much happier living in Eome near her old Maestro than settled down as a matter-of-fact Englishwoman in a prosaic country house.' In some such way as this ran Mrs. Wilding's private TWO'S COMPANY, THREE'S NONE, 207 reflections. Matters were at this stage when one evening, towards five o'clock, Beresford Conway entered the room where Eva was sitting by herself, turning over the pages of a magazine, and flung himself into an arm-chair beside her. " All alone ? " he asked. " Where is cousin Fanny ? " " Mama is gone to lie down. She is utterly exhausted with the round of pictures we went this mornincf. We brou2^ht the Si^nor back to luncheon with us. And now," she con- tinued, replying to this thoughts, " he and Detta are gone for a walk." "A walk?" " Yes. To the Embankment. Detta has never seen it except from a carriage, and happened to express a wish at lunch to go some day ; so of course Signor Bartolucci was on fire to take her there at once." •' Ah ! most romantic place for a walk," said Mr. Conwa}^ " Cousin Fanny is con- sidered a good chaperone, is she not ? " he added carelessly. " You are severe on poor mama," laughed 208 IN TEE OLD PALAZZO. Eveleen. " You forget tliey have known each other from childhood, Beresford." "An all-sufficing excuse," he remarked. " And when are we to congratulate these sentimental young people ? " "If you ask me," said his cousin slowly, " never." " Never ? My dear child, are you blind to the love-throes expressed daily upon the transparent countenance of your guileless sculptor ? " " My dear Beresford, I am not blind to the fact that no responsive throes are visible on the countenance of Benedetta. I have taken some time to satisfy myself on this point, and I feel pretty clear now. And I think you must allow that I am a better judge than a great awkward man. She has only a sisterly affection for him." " Pleasing, but perplexing for the brother — such affections," remarked Mr. Conway drily. But Eveleen, who knew every line of the impassive face by heart, felt instinctively that her reply had tended to relax its severity. TWO'S COMPAXY. THREE'S NONE. 209 Yet Mr. Conway's next observation was not flattering to the absent. " So then," he said, " Miss Campbell is not superior to the usual weakness of her sex in a love of conquest ? " " Beresford, you are unfair, and you know it. You know that Benedetta is true, and kind and womanly — that such a thing never enters her head. But she is very young, and very warm-hearted. I don't suppose she has ever found out that he loves her in that way." "Ah! " said Mr. Conway, and a pause of a few moments ensued, while he drew towards him a dish of exquisite hothouse flowers, and ■ thoughtfully examined them one by one. " Who sent you these ? " he inquired at length. " Mr. Westmacott, of course. I really wish he would not ; he quite keeps us in flowers." " He is very devoted, Mr. Westmacott ? " "Very," said Eva with a short laugh. " When are you going to become Mrs. Westmacott ? " " When the stars fall to the earth, and when you learn to talk sense." VOL. I. 14 210 J.V THE OLD PALAZZO. " How many times lias he asked you ? " " Whether he has asked me at all is a matter that concerns nobody but myself and him." " It is a pity all girls are not as reticent upon such subjects. Poor Westmacott! It's a hard life for people in love. He wants to have you who won't have him ; our idyllic sculptor wants your cousin, and she, you say, won't have him — everybody cries for the moon. What a foolish world it is I " " And you ? " asked Eva suddenly. Hard- ened thousfh he thousfht himself, a faint tinofe of colour rose under the fair skin, beneath the penetrating gaze of her eyes. " I ? Oh, / am a misogynist ; I shall probably never marry." " Oh yes, you will," she exclaimed ; " if ever you meet with a beautiful, loving, sincere, lofty-minded woman. I know your standard is high, Beresford." " Beautiful, loving, sincere, lofty-minded — that is a good deal to expect," said Mr. Conway. " Are there any such women to be had ? " TWO'S COJIPAXr, THREE'S ^^ ONE. 211 " I know of one," said Eva boldly, turning aside her head as she spoke, frightened by her own words." " A man," said Mr. Conway, pulling his moustache thoughtfully, " must think himself not far short of perfection, to aspire to such a woman as you describe." Eveleen was silent. She knew her cousin better perhaps than anyone else knew him. Justly or not, she gave him credit for qualities, feelings and opinions, which rarely troubled the outer surface of the man ; and to this fact perhaps, was owed the tacit sympathy and friendship which had for so many years existed between them. Few would now have recognised Mr. Conway's society-tone, as, drawing his chair nearer to the fire which blazed upon the hearth, he continued the con- versation. " You are the last person to give matri- monial advice, Eva," he remarked. " In practice you deny your theory." "Ah!" she said, "/am different." And somethino^ like a sio^h came from her as she rose and leant upon the mantelpiece opposite 14* 212 I.Y THE OLD PALAZZO. her cousin. For lie had known her story — she had no concealments from him. * He took up the poker and played with the fire for a minute or two. " Haven't you for- gotten that yet ? " he asked after a pause. "I can't, Beresford," she replied, half sadly, half impatiently. " I have tried, but it's of no use. The thought of it will come back upon me at times. I don't know that I care much — about him — now ; but it seems to have taken the heart out of me for anyone else." Beresford Conway looked at her for a mo- ment kindly ; then he resumed his occupation, gently stirring the fire. "It is a pity," he said. " Though," he added, as if to himself, " a better fellow never breathed than Arthur Drew, nor one more worthy to be remembered bv a woman." CHAPTER XIY. INO SPEAKS. DETTA meanwliile and her companion were sauntering slowly along that new pro- menade which is justly the pride of London, and one of the grandest of its later improve- ments. They had now passed out of the vicinity of the noisier thoroughfares and had entered upon a quieter part where the thunder of the vehicles was but distantly heard, and where the Thames swirled solemnly by, calmly anxious to escape to distant meadows and the far-off sea. They had walked fast, for both were young and strong, and by no means fatigued by the sight-seeing which had so ex- hausted Mrs. Wilding ; and their talk had been upon art, in eager discussion over the merits and demerits of the paintings visited that morning. But now they slackened their 2U IN THE OLD PALAZZO. pace a little, and presently paused to gaze at the turbid bosom of the great river rolling onward heavily and sullenly between its prison walls. EafFaelino leant his arms upon the stone parapet. " I begin to like this great, grey London," he said dreamily. " At first it was to me a city horrible and hateful, with its fogs and its tall chimneys, and its gloomy sky, and the unpoetic, unpicturesque squalor of its poor. There is no colour in London, no blue in the sky, no frescoes on the houses, no crimson sash to relieve the rags of the peasantry, as in our own land ; and there is no song. London has no voice ; there is nothing but the j^ell of an omnibus driver or the shout of a drunken vagabond to relieve the monotony of the cease- less roll of wheels. There is no poetry in the nights — no touching of a stringed instrument — no distant sound of the full notes of some wandering singer — no drip, drip, from the plashing fountains to break through the still- ness of the cool, white moonlight. Yet I am beginning to see that there is beauty even in I^0 SPEAKS. 215 London. The barges that sail up the river — the river itself, as the sun sets behind its many- masted vessels in streaks of crimson — the stately Houses of Parliament standing out severely in the moonshine — and the misty greyness of the aisles in Westminster Abbe3\ And it has great hearts and great deeds in it too, this gloomy London. I am glad I came to it, were it only for that." " Lio," said Detta, " tell me, how is ^^our work getting on ? " The question seemed to startle him, and he r.;ade no reply. " Is it much advanced since we saw it last?" she asked. For — herself demanding an in-* vitation which the young man had been far too humble to proffer — Mrs. Wilding, on her first arrival in town, had, in company with her niece and daughter, paid a visit to EalTaelino's studio. " I thought it beautiful then," she said kindly, noticing his em- barrassment. " What little beauty it ever possessed is gone from it now, I fear," he said, speaking with constraint. " Why, Ino ? Bat Oh, that cannot be true I " 216 JiV THE OLD PALAZZO. " My hand has lost its cunnmg," he said sadly. " It seems so to me, at least." " It camiot, must not be ! " she exclaimed warmly. " What have you been doing to yourself, Ino, that you should feel that ? " " Ah ! " he said, turning his face away from her, " / have done nothing. That which is within me, is stronger than I, that is all." " You are in trouble," she said very softly. '• What is it, Ino mio ; can I not help you ? '* All the blood in the young man's veins seemed to leap up within him at the sound of that caressing word ; and his passion could no longer be repressed. He suddenly turned towards her his glowing face. " I have tried to be silent," he exclaimed, speaking rapidly, and with an utterance that was almost fierce. " Day by day I have watched you, and I have said to myself : ' What right have you to speak to her of love ? You have as yet no money, no posi- tion — and she does not know, she does not guess — she only thinks of you as her old playfellow. You are only the child of her mother's servant ; and she— she is born of the INO SPEAKS. 217 English aristocrac}^ You are mad, Eaffaello Bartolucci ! ' But the madness has grown — it has seized me, body and soul, and I am no longer master of myself ! " He ceased as abruptly as he had P)egun, and turned away, concealing his face with his hand, as he still leant upon the parapet, There was a long pause, while Benedetta slowly collected herself. Astonishment, fear, and distress had suc- ceeded each other rapidly upon the mobile features as she listened to his passionate declaration. She was utterly taken aback ; no suspicion of the truth had, perhaps strangely, as yet entered her mind ; and, blended with her intense compassion, came self - reproachings but half - deserved. At. length, however, she put her hand out and timidly touched his sleeve. " Ino," she said, almost in a whisper, " I never knew it. I am grieved — 0, am I not grieved for you ? " He dropped his hand, and once more turned towards her, his lips trembling. " There is no hope ? " he asked, searching 218 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. her face hungrily. '• Ah ! I knew it was a madness. You need not pity me. But, Benedetta mia, I shall love no other to the day of my death." " You will forgive me in time," she said, softly, her own eyes filling as she saw the Manched look on the olive face ; " and forget me too, some day, I pray God, dear Ino." How was it that she made no pause, that in her heart she felt no doubt as to the answer she must at once give him ? Had she not always been fond of him ? Had he not a beautiful face, a noble character, and a touch of that genius which raises the individual man upon a pedestal above his fellows? Why was it impossible that she should care for him at some future day, and why did she know instinctively, and wish him to understand, that the feelings of sisterly affection she now entertained for him were unalterable? Surely she was above any vulgar consideration of the lower origin from which he had sprung ; nor, surely, had she as yet become so Anglicised as to feel his little foreign ways and Italian mode of INO SPEAKS. 219 thought as obstacles to sympathy? Cer- tainly, as regarded the former point, no one could say that the young sculptor was not refined in appearance, and polished in behaviour ; while as for the other, did not her heart often yearn for the old surround- ings — for the old brisfht, warm Italian life — the sight of the laughing, brown faces, and the sound of the rich, harmonious syllables of her childhood's tongue ? Nevertheless, instinct told her what course to pursue ; and wisely, woman-like, she followed her instinct unquestioning. A minute later, and he had raised his head,* his face still pale, but a wan smile upon his lips. " The dream is dreamt and over," he said, with a calmness that astonished her after his late vehemence. " Come, let us be going home." " Tell me first," she said, hesitatingly, " that you can forgive me — that you are not angry with me ? " , . " A man is_ not angry with the flowers of spring," he said, using one of the similes 220 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. common to him, " because he himself has passed into a barren land." " If it had but been anyone but you, Ino — you, who have been such a kind, good brother to me — I would sooner have grieved almost anyone else in the world." Her eyes w^ere full of tears. It appeared to her so cruel a dispensation, that her hand should be the one to deal a blow to the playmate for whom she had always felt so strong, so loyal an affection. It almost seemed as if he were comforting her, when next he spoke. " You could not help yourself," he said, gently. " Love is not a thing to come by call. He is a winged angel that lights upon the hearts of some, and passes others by. Do not blame yourself. It was my own foolish presumption to think for a moment of you." " There was no presumption," she ex- claimed. " Do you remember, Ino, how as a child you used to carry me across the rough stones of the Via Appia, or came to my rescue that day when the masquers INO SPEAKS. 221 frightened me ? How I used to look up to you — how strong and superior I thought you!" " We were all children then," he said, his face, however, softening with the reminis- cences her words recalled, " and you were then the Piccola. Everything," he added in an undertone, " must change as years go on." " I am not changed ? " she asked, almost humbly. " In heart you will never change. You will always be the same — true and tender — " He paused, but presently added : " And may the man to whom you give yourself some future day be more worthy of you, Benedetta, than I." " I have no thought of that," she said, quickly. She felt instinctively that the assurance would be a consolation to him ; as indeed it was, although he made no reply in words. And so they turned to go homewards, walking silently side by side ; each feeling sadly that the complexion of things around 222 /^V THE OLD PALAZZO. tliem had, in these few moments, changed; that both sky and river had turned greyer, and that the hurry and bustle on all. sides about them, now seemed far more jarring and discordant than before. CHAPTER XV. MR. CONWAY REFORMS. FOE the next few days life went on in mucli the same round of occupations. There was the usual ride in the morning, the usual drive in the Park or shopping expedition in the afternoon, and the usual public or private entertainment in the evening, Beresford Conway, as a rule, accompanied his cousins when they went out. He spent indeed the greater part of his time lounging in Mrs. Wilding's little drawing-room, or attending upon her or her charges at places of public resort. Eaffaelino Bartolucci, too, was there almost as much as before. He did not desert the house in consequence of what had passed between himself and Detta ; but, aft*er the omission of one day, returned to his former habit of coming in about dusk and making 224 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. one of the family party. No change was apparent on the part of either since that episode, unless it were for a little more silence on his side, and a little increase of gentleness on hers. And certainly no one entertained any suspicion of what had occurred unless it were Eveleen, who, as usual on these occasions, kept her own counsel. After the lapse of a few days, however, an unusual event came to break the routine of what the two girls called their society life. This was a visit paid by them both, under Mr. Conway's chaperonage and at his personal re- quest, to the east end of London. He was a little embarrassed as he made the proposal, and Mrs. Wilding a good deal surprised. He wanted Eveleen's advice, he said, upon some little reforms that were beinor carried out for the benefit of his tenants, a statement which provoked from the elder lady the ingenuous remark that she had not given him credit before for any particular interest in the be- nefit of his tenants. Neither did she consider Eva's advice upon such matters of any distinct value. She did not withhold her consent, ME. COXWAY REFORMS. 225 however, only warning her girls to avoid, as far as possible — for fear of infectious diseases and the contamination of dirt — coming into personal contact with th'.^ people by whom they would be surrounded ; and the trio set off in a hired brougham, Eva curiously amused as to the meaninof of this stran^re new whim, as she deemed it, of her cousin Beresford's ; Mr. Conway himself considerably embarrassed by his novel role of benefactor, and Detta instinctively recalling the conversation that had passed between herself and him some two or three months before. It was a long drive, and one which led them out of the fashionable thoroughfares they knew so well into others almost equally wide and important, but different indeed in the nature of their population and in the style of their iraffic. Out of these again into narrower streets, filled up more or less by hawkers' stalls and coster- mongers' carts — where the shops all seemed boot-shops, or pawnbrokers' shops, or shops for the sale of old clothes — where half-naked children sat with their feet in the gutters, idle men slouched in knots against the corners VOL I. 15 226 jy THE OLD PALAZZO. and women with bedraggled hair and slippers down at heel limped down the pavements. Detta had grown very silent the last few minutes, and her eyes were sad and serious as she gazed out of the brougham window, while even Eveleen felt her usual gaiety restrained by the forlorn scenes of poverty on every side. " I don't like 3^our property, Beresford," she said at last. "It gives one the creeps to come here. If I were you I should sell it, and invest my money in something less oppres- sive." " I might have done so, perhaps," he replied, " had I ever visited it ; but I reahy don't know that I ever came here until — a~few weeks ago." They had now entered a somewhat wider street, and the driver suddenly pulled up and came to the door. " This is it, I think, sir ? " he said, touching his hat. " Yes, this is it," said Mr. Conway, proceed- ing to help his two companions out of the carriage, and rapping sharply at the door in 3III. COXWAY REFOUMS. 2.7 front of them. In another moment it was opened by a l)risk-looking, pleasant-faced woman, who dropped a curtsey to Mr. Conway. " These ladies have kindly come, Mrs. Jones," he said, a little nervously, " to see the house and suggest improvements. Will you show us round ? " This Mrs. Jones was only too happj^ to do, for, extremely proud of the new Coffee Tavern and of her own position of manager was she. " Well, do you think it will do ? " he asked, when at length they had made the tour of the house, with its large well-stocked bar, the nicely-furnished private coffee-room behind, the comfortable reading-room w^ith smaller room containing a bagatelle-table leading out of it ; and, at the other side of the passage, a. huge apartment filled wdth benches and plat- form, and not intended for any particular purpose at present, but where, as Mr. Conway remarked incidentally, " any lecturing fellow approved of by the committee, might have a turn now and then, or where anybody who liked might hold an amateur concert." This 15* 2J8 I^' THE OLD PALAZZO. was about tlie only remark he made during their passage from room to room, leaving all explanations to Mrs. Jones, who was fully equal to the occasion, and dilated with the eloquent warmth of an enthusiast upon the purpose and advantage of each and every portion of the new building. "Will it do?" Mr. Conway had asked of his companions. But, whilst speaking, he fixed his eyes upon Benedetta's face, and it was evident that from her he awaited the re- ply. He would not, perhaps, have cared for any one to know how much reward lay in the unstinted smile of oTatification she turned towards him. " It is perfect," she said. " I do not think it could be better, could it, Eva ? " " Cousin Beresford," said Eva, " you are coming out in a new line. That is the dis- tinguishing characteristic of genius. Its originality is always bursting out under new forms. We shall soon see you chairman of the Woman's Emancipation League, or walk- ing at the head of the Salvation Army ! " Mr. Conway had forgotten to remove his MR. COiSWAY ItEF0Ii3IS. 22'J gaze from Benedetta's countenance, and when at length he did so, he turned absently to- wards his cousin, as if scarcely hearing her words ; but after a moment he answered her. " This affair is no charity on my part, you know," he said, with a languid air, " it is — a — or means to be — a self-paying concern." Eveleen arched her eyebrows incredulously. " Penny cups of tea and coffee, and penny subscriptions to the reading-room, pay for all this outlay ? " " So they tell me — in time," he replied. " And you believe them ? " " My dear Eva, I make a point through life, of believing everything I am told. If you doubt, you are required to substantiate your doubts, and that is so much trouble." " Well," said Eveleen, " in any case I wish it success." "There is no library as yet, but that is coming, I believe, is it not, Mrs. Jones ? " Mr. Conway remarked, referring to his landlady with the air of a man who has not much personally to do with the matter. " Oh, yes, sir. Indeed, sir, the books as you 230 I.y THE OLD PALAZZO, ordered came in last evening, and tlie car- penter lie'll be here in the course of the after- noon to commence putting up the book-shelves. And please, sir, while you're here, I may as well tell you about that Mr. Newton, sir. He met my 'usband last night close upon the door-step, and spoke a deal of impudence to him and against you, sir. ' You give Mr. Conway my best respects, Mr. Jones,' says he, ' and just you tell him as I've got a deal a better 'ouse just round the corner of the next street ' (which ain't your property, you see, sir), ' and,' says he, ' I finds the situation a deal more 'andy, and 'ope as he won't find me in the way of his grand new lolly pop-shop.' And a deal more of such-like imperence, sir, as I needn't repeat to you." " Who is Mr. Newton ? " asked Eveleen, as, after bidding farewell to brisk Mrs. Jones, the party made their way out through the door of the newly-finished CofTee Tavern. " He seems to be a rival of yours, Beresford." " He was," said Mr. Conway. " He kept a gin-palace nearly opposite this house, and I got rid of him. He ought to be grateful to 3IR. CONWAY REFORMS. 231 me. I gave him a bonus to buy off tlie re- maining year of his lease. But he isn't. There is no such thing as gratitude in this world. He — a — pocketed my bonus, and has transferred himself and his palace a few yards round the corner." " Have you anything more to show us ? " enquired his cousin, as they stood once more in the street. " Only a pump," he returned deliberately. " Only a pump ! " she echoed laughing. " Are you cracked, Beresford ? " Mr. Conway turned towards Benedetta. " Pumps IV ere one of the things, were they not ? " he asked. " But I suppose you might call it a fountain." " It is a very neat fountain," said Eva, as they turned a corner and entered a wider street, which was indeed more like a little square, with apparently no thoroughfare lead- inix throuo'h it. " Dogs and horses and cattle all provided for," she continued; "really a very neat de- sign. And what capital troughs ! " "- My agent says he can't see his way to the 2:52 7:Y the old PALAZZO. model lodging houses just yet, Miss Campbell," remarked Mr. Conway. " He is a slow man — a Scotchman — and ideas take time to filter through his brain. But we must see what constant irritation upon the subject will do." " It will all come in time now that you have begun," she replied softly. " See, here is a grateful little client for your fountain." And she bent down to place the mug attached to the fountain, and which she had filled from one of the jets, within the grasp of a tiny boy, whose stature seemed just too short to admit of his reaching it for himself. " What is your name, little man ? " asked Eveleen, so soon as, with Detta's assistance, he had finished his draught. " Tom Watkins," answered the small child promptly. " Do you live in this court ? " " No, down there." And the grimy little hand was pointed in the direction of a labyrinth of small streets nearly opposite. " What's your father ? " she continued. MB, CONWAY REFORMS. 2H3 " Ain't got no father ; he's gone." " Dead, do you mean ? " " No, gone — riinned away. He said as the beaks was after him." " And what does your mother do, since father runned away ? " " She sews." " Sews what ? " '• Anythink as the shop will give her.'' " And you — do you go to school. Tommy ? " " No," replied the small bundle of rags. " I don't go nowheres ; and what's more," he added decisively, "I don't want to." Eveleen and her companions could not help * laughing. " Wouldn't you like to learn to read ?" de- manded the former. "No, I don't know as I would. Laming ain't no particular use, as I knows on." " What icould you like ? " inquired Mr. Conway, regarding the small boy with interest. " I'd like a tizzy,*' he replied without hesi- tation. " Here are two tizzies for you," said Mr. 234 IiY THE OLD PALAZZO. Conwci}' dropping a shilling into his eager hand. "N'ow," he continued, "what are you going to do with it ? Play pitch and toss, or take it home to mother ? " " Take it home," replied the child, turning away without a word of thanks, " Don't let the street boys see your wealth, or perhaps they might rolj you on the way," remarked Eva. The little boy looked back, and bestowed a most unmistakeable wink upon the trio. " I ain't such a fool as that, quite," said he. And opening his mouth, he chucked the shilling into the side of his cheek. Then, without waiting for further parley, he leapt down the steps, and disappeared like an arrow from the bow towards his home. " How old is that precocious specimen ? " asked Eveleen. " Ten ? " said Mr. Conway. " Six ? " said Benedetta. " He had the stature of four, but the intel- ligence of ten," said Eveleen. " I am inclined to think you are nearest the truth, Detta." 3^L\ COX WAY REiOR3IS. 'l'6b " Well," said Mr. Conway, " if you hulies liave now sufficiently admired the pump, we may a^ well return to the brougham, I sup- pose. We must not be too long, or cousin Fanny will be sure to imagine us the victims of east-end ruffianism." '' Beresford," said his cousin, before he had finished, " here is a gentleman who wants to speak to you." Mr. Conway turned, and found himself face to face with an elderly man in clerical dress, and with a hard-featured but kindly visage. ''I am the rector of this parish," he said, taking off his hat, " and I want to introduce myself to you. You are, if I mistake not, the Mr. Conway who has a good deal of property here. I wish to thank you for the interest you seem to be taking in various ways for the good of the poor people." Something more nearly approaching a blush appeared upon the countenance of Beresford Conway than was often the case with that apparently self-satisfied and noncha- lant gentleman. 236 AV HIE OLD PALAZZO. " You must thank this lady, not me," he said, turning towards Detta. " May I intro- duce you. Miss Campbell ? Also my cousin, Miss Wilding." " My name is Mowbray," said the clergy- man, with a pleasant smile. " So you are the benefactress ? " '• No, indeed," replied Benedetta, blushing crimson. " Miss Campbell suggested the reforms," remarked Mr. Conway. " And others," he added half aside, with a smile of amusement. " They would never have been thought of without her." " I thank you both heartily," said Mr. Mowbray ; " the one for devising, the other for carrying out the improvements. That lieading Eoom especially will be an immense boon to many of my poor men. I took the liberty yesterday, Mr. Conway, of asking to see the house." " I am very sorry you were not invited before," replied the other. "It was an over- sight. I had not the pleasure of 3^our acquaintance." ]\JR. COX WAY REFORMS. 237 " But wliat 1 wish most of all to tliank you for," continued Mr. Mowbray, " is the removal of that awful gin palace from our neighbour- hood. They tell me 3^ou bought the man out, and of course it will be a financial loss to you." " Oh ! said Beresford hastily, "' that was nothing. But I hear he has onl}^ gone into the next street ; so I fear you won't be much better off." " Oh indeed, he has removed to some little distance, quite out of m}^ way ; and I have besides serious hopes that we may get the place suppressed. The man is as yet only in treaty for the new house, and we, that is the rector of that parish and myself, are meanwhile working upon the magistrates to try to get them to refuse the renewal of the license." " Oh ! I hope you will succeed." said Bene- detta, with an earnestness that came from her heart. She had a keen appreciation for the sorrows and sufferings of the poor, and she had both seen and read enough even in her short young life to realise some of the miseries 2-58 J-V 'HIE OLD PALAZZO. alteiulant upon the existence of these pest- houses. Mr. Mowbra}^ turned a long glance towards the foreign-looking face, with its great, dark, serious eyes, and the wistful expression which spoke of so much silent sympathy. " I should like so much," he said, " if it would not be delaying you too long, to ask you to turn in for a moment and see my Eagged School. It is close by here, and we should find them at work now." Mr. Conway glanced towards Benedetta with a smile. " Another of your ideas carried out, you see," he remarked. Mr. Mowbray caught both smile and remark. " Oh," he said, " that has been going on for some years. It is one of our best points. What we now chiefly want is improved dwellings for our people. Some of the houses are perfect pig-sties." " Model lodging houses come next on the list, I believe," remarked Mr. Conway, with a return of his half-quizzical manner. The eyes of the clergyman brightened. " That would be beyond my wildest hopes," MR. CONWAY RF.FOnMS. 2 9 lie said, glancing eagerly towards his com- panion. " I see no reason against them." remarked Mr. Conway. " But my agent, Mr. McClure, does, or fancies he does. You have my full consent to fight it out with him, Mr. Mowbray. lie is so accustomed to managing me, that I find it impossible now to manage him." "I will tackle him tomorrow morning," replied the rector, an almost childlike glee expressed in his tone and manner. " But here we are at the school." And he led them throusfh a ' narrow door- way, down a dingy stone passage, from the end of which could be heard the sound of many juvenile voices. Turning through another doorway, they stood in a large stone- floored room, decorated round the walls with gay-coloured prints, and containing some fifty or sixty children of all ages, but chiefly below the age of ten years or so. " After that time," remarked Mr. Mowbray, " they usually have settled occupations of their own, and it is difiicult to catch them to become regular school attendants." 240 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. A little open space was left in tlie centre of the room, on one side of which were the boys' classes, and on the other the girls'. The teachers were of both sexes, but chiefly young girls, and appeared to be of all ranks. " Of course," said Mr. Mowbray, " they are all unpaid, and do their work for the love of God. And judging from the riot going on," he added, " you would scarcely guess the influence many of them have over their charges." The noise was indeed deafening, and Eveleen wondered how any teacher could keep his or her head clear enough for the duty required ; but it was, after a fashion, legitimate noise, and it was evident that, although the line was stretched to the utter- most, yet that a certain discipline was upheld. If the children screamed, they screamed over their lessons. Each shouted louder than the other, in order merely to outdo his mates ; and nothing like rebellion or disrespect was apparent. Altogether, for street Arabs, their behaviour was respectable. The entrance of Mr. Mowbray and his party was the signal for MM. coy WAY HE FORMS. 241 a general uprising, and a sliout of " Good morning, sir," brought out at the top of several score of voices. The rector spoke a word or two to a few of the teachers, and gazed down upon the small faces upturned to his with unmistakeable love. " They are so sharp and so affectionate," he said, turning for sympathy to his companions. " Many of them are orphans, poor little souls, or the children of thieves ; and some are more than half-starved. But they are always so happy here ! " Both Eveleen and Detta had a natural liking for children, which even the dirt and squalor of these little waifs could not destroy ; and their sympathy delighted Mr. Mowbray, whose ragged schools were evidently near his heart. They listened with interest v/hile one or two classes were put forward to display their prowess in the various branches of education ; and even Mr. Conway, as he leant against the doorway, an object of amazement and admira- tion both to teachers and pupils, could not help being amused by the responses of some of these quick-witted, half-naked little street VOL. I. K) 242 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. rovers. " Oli, my ! ain't lie a swell ? " he overheard one boy remark to another, evi- dently referring to himself ; " I guess Jie ain't never buttoned 'is boots for 'isself all 'is life!" " E's one of them lords as rides in the park every day," returned his companion, "and always 'as a 'arf-crown button-'ole in his weskit." " I would'nt mind them studs myself, now," remarked a third ; " nor yet I would'nt refuse that there gold watch-chain, if 'e was to ax me perlite would I 'ave it." Neither did the two young ladies escape their share of attention. " They ain't bad 'uns to look at," remarked a small boy not far from Beresford, the number of whose years perhaps might have amounted to seven or eight. " The little 'un with the yaller 'air, is the one for me," he added with the decided glance of a connoisseur. " She ain't nothing to t'other 'un," said the small boy who sat beside him. " She's a deal finer figger of a woman The little 'un looks sharp ; but lor I the dark 'un, she's that soft 3IR. CONWAY REFOllMS. 243 YOU could turn lier round your thumb in no time ! " " Silence ! " said Mr. Mowbray to the wliole school with energy. And then, very briefly and impressively, he spoke a few religious words, jDutting his meaning into language which the youngest child could not fail to understand, and applying it practically to their own lives with a vigour and reality that startled his visitors, and seemed to impress his little hearers. Certainly, perhaps none of the three who accompanied him that morning had ever before listened to a teaching at once so simple, so hearty, and so straightforward.. There was no doubt about Mr. Mowbray's words coming from his heart. His eyes glowed, and his countenance changed rapidly as he w^ent from theme to theme, fascinating the most irreverent and hardened of the little vagrants by his earnestness. His rugged features were still flushed as he turned half apologetically towards Eveleen. "I fear I have kept you too long," he said ; " I always forget ever^^thing when I am speaking to my children. You must be going, must you not ? " 244 IN THE OLD PALAZZO. " We have been very mucli interested," slie replied warmly. " But we must be going now." They shook hands cordially. But in the narrow stone passage, Mr. Conway dropped a yard or two behind his companions. He was fumbling with his purse, and now brought a piece of paper out of it. " Will you accept this ? " he asked. " I am afraid I haven't been — a — the most exemplary of landlords." "You are too kind," said Mr. Mowbray, his transparent face expressing the delight he felt. " What is it for ? The school ? " " Plum pudding for the little beggars — or anything else you like," returned Mr. Conway; " I had better leave it to you." And he escaped down the passage with an unseemly haste most foreign to his usual deliberate mode of progression. LND OF VOLUME J.