Volume I Part 10 (1/2)

Had she remained comparatively portionless, rich only in her beauty and the graces of a manner that was fascination itself, she might now have been the happy wife of some worthy Englishman--one whose station is a trust held on the tenure of his rect.i.tude and honour; for such is public feeling in our country, and such is it never elsewhere.

She was then about eighteen or nineteen, and the very ideal of what an English girl at that age should be. On a mind highly stored and amply cultivated, no unworthy or depreciating influence had yet descended; freedom of thought, freshness almost childish, had given her an animation and buoyancy only subdued by the chastening modesty of coming womanhood. Enthusiastic in all her pursuits, for they were graceful and elevating, her mind had all the simplicity of the child with the refinement of the highest culture; and, like those who are brought up in narrow circles, her affections for a few spread themselves out in the varied forms that are often scattered and diffused over the wider surface of the world. Thus her brother was not merely the great object of her affection and pride, but he was the companion of her rides and walks, the confidant of all her secret feelings, the store in which she laid up her newly acquired knowledge, or drew, at will, for more. With him she read and studied; delighted by the same pursuits, their natures blended into one harmonious _corde_, which no variance or dissonance ever troubled.

His death, although long and gradually antic.i.p.ated, nearly brought her to the grave. The terrible nature of the malady, so often inherent in the same family, gave cause for the most anxious fears on her account, and her mother, herself almost brokenhearted, took her abroad, hoping by the mildness of a southern climate and change of scene to arrest the progress of the fell disease.

In this she was successful; bodily health was indeed secured. But might it not have been better that she had wasted slowly away, to sleep at last beneath the yews of her own ancient churchyard, than live and become what she has done?

Some years after this event I was, although at the time only an _attache_ of the mission, acting as _Charge d'affaires_ at Naples, during the absence of the minister and the secretary. I was sitting one morning reading in my garden, when my servant announced the visit of an Italian gentleman, il Signor Salvatori. The name was familiar to me, as belonging to a man who had long been employed as a Spy of the Austrian government, and, indeed, was formerly entrusted in a secret capacity by Lord W. Bentinck in Sicily--a clever, designing, daring rascal, who obtained his information no one knew how; and although we had always our suspicions that he might be ”selling” us, as well as the French, we never actually traced any distinct act of treachery to his door. He possessed a considerable skill in languages, was very highly informed on many popular topics, and, I have been told, was a musician of no mean powers of performance. These and similar social qualities were, however, never displayed by him in any part of his intercourse with us, although we had often heard of their existence.

As I never felt any peculiar pleasure in the relations which office compels with men of his stamp, I received him somewhat coldly, and asked, without much circ.u.mlocution, the reason of his visit.

He replied, with his habitual smile of self-possession, that his present duty at ”the Mission” was not a business-call, but concerned a matter purely personal;--in fact, ”with his Excellency's permission, he desired to get married.”

Not stopping him on the score of his investing me with a t.i.tle to which, no one knew better than himself, I had no pretensions, I quietly a.s.sured him that his relation with ”the Mission” did not, in any way, necessitate his asking for such a permission--that, however secret and mysterious the nature of his communications, they were still beyond the pale of affairs personally private.

He suffered me to continue my explanation, somewhat scornful as it was, to the end, and then calmly said,--

”Your Excellency will pardon my intrusion, when I inform you that the marriage should take place here, at 'the Mission,' as the lady is an English woman.”

Whether it was the fact itself, or his manner of delivering it, that outraged me, I cannot now remember; but I do recollect giving expression to a sentiment of surprise and anger not exactly suitable.

He merely smiled, and said nothing.

”Very well, M. Salvatori,” said I, corrected by the quietude of his manner; ”what is your day?”

”Wednesday, if your Excellency pleases.”

”Wednesday be it, and at eight o'clock.”

”As your Excellency desires,” said he, bowing and retiring.

It had never occurred to me to ask for any information about the happy fair one; indeed, if I had given a thought at all to the matter, it would have been that she was of the rank of a _femme-de-chambre_, or, at least, some unhappy children's governess, glad to exchange one mode of tyranny for another. As he was leaving the room, however, some sense of remorse, perhaps, at the _brusquerie_ I had shewn towards him, suggested the question, ”Who might the lady be?”

”Mademoiselle Graham.”

”Ah! a very good name, indeed,” said I; and so, with a word or two of common-place, I bade him good-by.

The Wednesday morning arrived, and two carriages drove into the court of ”the Mission:” out of one sprung Signor Salvatori and a very bearded gentleman, who accompanied him as his friend; from the other alighted, first, an elderly lady, whose dress was a mixture of wedding finery and widow's mourning; then came a very elegant-looking girl, veiled from head to foot, followed by her maid; and, lastly, the chaplain to ”the Mission.”

They were some minutes too early, and I equally behind my time; but I dressed hastily, and descended to the salon, where M. Salvatori received me with a very gracious expression of his self-satisfaction. Pa.s.sing him by, I advanced to address a few words to the old lady, who had risen from her seat; when, stepping back, I exclaimed,

”Mrs. Graham--my old friend, Mrs. Graham! Is this possible?”

”Oh, Caroline, it is Mr. Templeton!” said she; while her daughter, drawing her veil still closer over her face, trembled dreadfully.

Meanwhile Mrs. Graham had seized my hand with cordial warmth, and pressed it in all the earnestness of friends.h.i.+p. Her joy--and it was very evident it was such--was little partic.i.p.ated in by her son-in-law elect, who stood, pale and conscience-stricken, in a distant part of the room.

”I must entreat these gentlemen's permission to speak a few words here alone, as these ladies are very old friends I have not seen for some years.”

”I would humbly suggest to your Excellency that, as the ceremony still waits----”

”I wish it, Marquis,” said Mrs. Graham, in a tone half-command, half-entreaty; and, with a deep bow of submission, Salvatori and his friend withdrew, accompanied by the chaplain.