Part 27 (1/2)
He looked up from the paper he was reading in blank amazement.
”To Rome, mother? Why, what is taking you there?”
”I find there will be some very nice English people there,” she said; ”I am tired of Paris; it is one eternal glare; I long for the mysterious quiet and dreamy silence of Rome. It will be a pleasant change. I really like a nice circle of English people out of England.”
That was the beginning. She was too wise and diplomatic to ask him to go with them. She contented herself by speaking before him of the gayeties they expected, the pleasures they antic.i.p.ated; then, one day, as they were discussing their plans, she turned to him and said:
”Lance, what do you intend doing this winter? Are you going back to England to think over the fogs?”
”I am not quite sure,” he said; and then he wondered why she said nothing about going to Rome with them. At last, when she saw the time had come, she said, carelessly:
”Lance, if you do not care about returning to England, come with us to Rome.”
”I shall be delighted.”
He looked up with an air of relief. After all, he could not see Leone until summer: why return to England and melancholy? He might just as well enjoy himself in Rome. He knew what select and brilliant circles his mother drew around her. Better for him to be the center of one of those than alone and solitary in England.
”Of course,” said the countess, diplomatically, ”I will not urge you, I leave it entirely to you. If you think what the fas.h.i.+on of the day calls your duties demand that you should return, do not let me detain you, even for one day.”
”I have no particular duties,” he said, half gloomily.
He would have liked his mother to have insisted on his going, to have been more imperative, but as she left it entirely to him, he thought her indifferent over the matter.
He was a true man. If she had pressed him to go, urged him, tried to persuade him, he would have gone back to England, and the tragedy of after years would never have happened. As it occurred to him that his mother simply gave the invitation out of politeness, and did not care whether he accepted or not, he decided on going. So when the festivities of Berlin were all ended, he wrote to Leone, saying that he was going to spend the winter with his parents in Rome; that if he could not spend it with her, it mattered little enough to him where is was; but that he was longing with all his heart for the thirtieth of June.
CHAPTER XXIV.
IN THE HANDS OF A CLEVER WOMAN.
”In Rome,” said Lady Marion Erskine, to her cousin; ”how strange it seems to be really here! Do you know that when I was a little girl and learned Roman history I always thought it a grand fable. I never believed such a place really existed. Rome is a link between the old world and the new.”
”Yes,” replied Lady Cambrey, ”it is quite true, my dear.”
She had no notion, even ever so vague, of what her beautiful young kinswoman meant.
Lady Cambrey was not given to the cultivation of ideas, but she was always most amiably disposed to please Lady Marion. It was something very delightful to be the chaperon of a beautiful young heiress like Lady Erskine, and she was always delighted to agree with Lady Marion's words, opinions, and ideas.
Lady Marion was submissive and gentle by nature. She was one of the cla.s.s of women born to be ruled and not to rule. She could never govern, but she could obey. She could not command, but she could carry out the wishes of others to the last letter.
Lady Cambrey, from motives of her own, wanted her to go to Rome. She had managed it without the least trouble.
”Marion,” she said, ”have you decided where to spend the winter?”
”No,” was the quiet reply, ”I have not thought much about it, Aunt Jane; have you?”
The words were so sweetly and placidly spoken.
”Yes, I have thought a great deal about it. I hear that a great many very nice English people have gone to Rome. They say that there will be one of the nicest circles in Europe there.”