Part 35 (1/2)

”Yes,” he said, ”I am quite determined. It is the best thing I can do.”

”I was wondering this morning,” said Diana, ”whether we ought not to let our uncle know. It seems to me that he ought not to hear it from strangers.”

Marcantonio eyed her suspiciously.

”You cannot expect me to go and tell him now,” said he. ”The train leaves in an hour--there is not time.”

”Of course not,” said Diana, seeing how quickly he suspected her of wis.h.i.+ng to interfere with his plan. ”But, if you like, I will write and tell him.”

”We can write from Turin,” said he moodily. ”No one knows yet.”

He hurried her to the station, and got there long before the hour of departure. He was determined not to miss the train, and until he was seated in the carriage and the train rolled out of the city he could not feel sure that Diana would not stop him. He was somewhat relieved when they pa.s.sed the first station on the way to Florence, and he saw that he was fairly off. Donna Diana sat opposite to him and watched him, thinking sadly of the last journey they had made together, when he had taken her to Sorrento by the night train. He looked quiet, though, and she thanked Heaven things were no worse; he might so easily have done himself a mischief in the first outbreak of his solitary grief.

She still hoped for a chance of learning how it had all happened, for she was very much in the dark, and had no means of learning anything except what he might choose to tell her. Perhaps the intense inquiry in her mind reacted on his, as often happens between brothers and sisters.

At all events, he began to speak before half an hour had gone by.

”I have not told you anything about it yet, Diana mia,” he said. ”I have been so busy, so many things to do.” He pa.s.sed his hand over his forehead as he spoke, as though trying to collect himself.

”Of course,” said Diana gently. ”Do not tire yourself now, dear boy.

Another time will do just as well. I know all that is absolutely necessary.”

Marcantonio laughed very slightly and a little foolishly, and again put his hand to his head.

”Oh, no,” he answered, ”I shall not tire myself. You do not know anything about the--the--occurrence.”

”No,” said she, ”that is true.”

”They went away at night,” said Marcantonio quickly, and then stopped.

”Pray do not tell me about it, dear brother,” said Diana, rising and seating herself near to him on the opposite side of the carriage. She laid her hand on his arm, trying to soothe him, for she feared a return of his old state.

”But I must tell you,” he said impatiently, and she saw it was useless to protest. ”They went away at night,” he continued, ”in a boat. I heard the dogs barking, just for a moment, and then they stopped, and I went to sleep. I went to sleep, Diana,” he cried savagely, ”when she was running away with him, and I could have killed him as easily as possible. I could have killed them both--oh, so easily!” He groaned aloud and clenched his thin hands.

”Hus.h.!.+” said Diana, softly.

”I could have killed them as easily as he killed the dogs and stopped their barking,” he went on; ”he killed them both, wrung their necks--poverini--as though they were not right to call me. And I never guessed anything, though I heard them!”

He was working himself into a frenzy, and Diana was afraid he might go mad then and there. She tried to draw his mind to another part of the story. She was a woman of infinite tact and resource.

”Yes,” said she, ”I am sure you could. But how long was it before you telegraphed to me?”

”How long? I do not know,” he said; and he seemed trying to recollect himself.

”Was it in the afternoon?” asked Diana, glad to fix his attention on a detail.

”Let me see--yes. I meant to send it from Castellamare--the dispatch, I mean; and instead I stopped the carriage at a little town on the way--I forget the name, but there was a telegraph office there--and so I sent it sooner.”

”Yes,” said Diana. ”I got it at about seven o'clock. My husband was very quick and got a carriage, and brought me as far as Genoa.”

”How good of him!” exclaimed Marcantonio. ”How is he? And the children, dear little things; are they all well?”