Part 38 (1/2)

A nearly finished Faun, the head of a Niobe, the arm and hand of a Jove launching a thunderbolt, the torso of a dead sailor after s.h.i.+pwreck, lay amid fragments of shattered figures, grotesque images, some caricatures of his own works, and crude models of anatomy. The walls were scrawled with charcoal drawings of groups,--one day to be fas.h.i.+oned in sculpture,--with verses from Dante, or lines from Ta.s.so, inscribed beneath; proud resolves to a life of labor figured beside stanzas in praise of indolence and dreamy abandonment. There were pa.s.sages of Scripture, too, glorious bursts of the poetic rapture of the Psalms, intermingled with quaint remarks on life from Jean Paul or Herder. All that a discordant, incoherent nature consisted of was there in some shape or other depicted; and as Billy ran his eye over this curious journal,--for such it was,--he grieved over the spirit which had dictated it.

The whole object of all his teaching had been to give a purpose to this uncertain and wavering nature, and yet everything showed him now that he had failed. The blight which had destroyed the boy's early fortunes still worked its evil influences, poisoning every healthful effort, and das.h.i.+ng with a sense of shame every successful step towards fame and honor.

”Maybe he's right after all,” muttered Billy to himself. ”The New World is the only place for those who have not the roots of an ancient stock to hold them in the Old. Men can be there whatever is in them, and they can be judged without the prejudices of a cla.s.s.”

Having summed up, as it were, his own doubts in this remark, he proceeded with his task. While he was thus occupied, Ma.s.sy entered, and threw himself into a chair.

”There, you may give it up, Traynor. Fate is ever against us, do and decide on what we will. Your confounded omen of a Friday was right this time.”

”What do you mean? Have you altered your mind?”

”I expected you to say so,” said the other, bitterly. ”I knew that I should meet with this mockery of my resolution, but it is uncalled for.

It is not I that have changed!”

”What is it, then, has happened,--do they refuse your pa.s.sport?”

”Not that either; I never got so far as to ask for it. The misfortune is in this wise: on going to the bank to learn the sum that lay to my credit and draw for it, I was met by the reply that I had nothing there,--not a s.h.i.+lling. Before I could demand how this could be the case, the whole truth suddenly flashed across my memory, and I recalled to mind how one night, as I lay awake, the thought occurred to me that it was base and dishonorable in me, now that I was come to manhood, to accept of the means of life from one who felt shame in my connection with him. 'Why,' thought I, 'is there to be the bond of dependence where there is no tie of affection to soften its severity?' And so I arose from my bed, and wrote to Sir Horace, saying that by the same post I should remit to his banker at Naples whatever remained of my last year's allowance, and declined in future to accept of any further a.s.sistance.

This I did the same day, and never told you of it,--partly, lest you should try to oppose me in my resolve; partly,” and here his voice faltered, ”to spare myself the pain of revealing my motives. And now that I have buoyed my heart up with this project, I find myself without means to attempt it. Not that I regret my act, or would recall it,”

cried he, proudly, ”but that the sudden disappointment is hard to bear.

I was feeding my hopes with such projects for the future when this stunning news met me, and the thought that I am now chained here by necessity has become a torture.”

”What answer did Sir Horace give to your letter?” asked Billy.

”I forget; I believe he never replied to it, or if he did, I have no memory of what he said. Stay,--there was a letter of his taken from me when I was arrested at Carrara. The seal was unbroken at the time.”

”I remember the letter was given to the Minister, who has it still in his keeping.”

”What care I,” cried Ma.s.sy, angrily, ”in whose hands it may be?”

”The Minister is not here now,” said Billy, half speaking to himself, ”he is travelling with the Duke; but when he comes back--”

”When he comes back!” burst in Ma.s.sy, impatiently; ”with what calm philosophy you look forward to a remote future. I tell you that this scheme is now a part and parcel of my very existence. I can turn to no other project, or journey no other road in life, till at least I shall have tried it!”

”Well, it is going to work in a more humble fas.h.i.+on,” said Billy, calmly. ”Leave me to dispose of all these odds and ends here--”

”This tras.h.!.+” cried the youth, fiercely. ”Who would accept it as a gift?”

”Don't disparage it; there are signs of genius even in these things; but, above all, don't meddle with me, but just leave me free to follow my own way. There now, go back and employ yourself preparing for the road; trust the rest to me.”

Ma.s.sy obeyed without speaking. It was not, indeed, that he ventured to believe in Traynor's resources, but he was indisposed to further discussion, and longed to be in solitude once more.

It was late at night when they met again. Charles Ma.s.sy was seated at a window of his room, looking out into the starry blue of a cloudless sky, when Traynor sat down beside him. ”Well,” said he, gently, ”it's all done and finished. I have sold off everything, and if you will only repair the hand of the Faun, which I broke in removing, there's nothing more wanting.”

”That much can be done by any one,” said Ma.s.sy, haughtily. ”I hope never to set eyes on the trumpery things again.”

”But I have promised you would do it,” said Traynor, eagerly.

”And how--by what right could you pledge yourself for my labor? Nay,”