Part 88 (2/2)
She listened, or appeared to listen; but her lips were pale; her eyes had a strange look in them; she was breathless.
”Calabressa said they were all-powerful,” she interrupted suddenly. ”But are they all-powerful to slay only? Oh no, I cannot believe it! I will go to them; it cannot be too late; I will say to them that I would rather have died than appealed to them if I had known that this was to be the terrible result. And Calabressa--why did he not warn me? Or is he one of the blood-thirsty ones also--one of the tigers that crouch in the dark? Oh, signore, if they are all-powerful, they are all-powerful to pardon. May I not go to themselves?”
”It would be useless, my dear signorina,” said Von Zoesch, with deep compa.s.sion in his voice. ”I am sorry to grieve you, but justice has been done, and the decision is past recall. And do not blame poor old Calabressa--”
At this moment the bell of the outer gate rang, echoing through the empty house, and he started somewhat.
”Come, child,” said her mother. ”We have taken up too much of your time, Stefan. I wish there had been no drawback to your good news.”
”At the present moment,” he said, glancing somewhat anxiously toward the building, ”I cannot ask you to stay, Natalie; but on some other occasion, and as soon as you please, I will give you any information you may wish. Remember, you have good friends here.”
Natalie suffered herself to be led away. She seemed too horror-stricken to be able to speak. Von Zoesch accompanied them only to the terrace, and there bade them good-bye. Granaglia was waiting to show them to the gate. A few moments afterward they were in their carriage, returning to Naples.
They sat silent for some time, the mother regarding her daughter anxiously.
”Natalushka, what are you thinking of?”
The girl started: her eyes were filled with a haunting fear, as if she had just seen some terrible thing. And yet she spoke slowly and sadly and wistfully.
”I was thinking, mother, that perhaps it was not so hard to be condemned to die; for then there would come an end to one's suffering. And I was wondering whether there had been many women in the world who had to accuse themselves of taking a part in bringing about their own father's death. Oh, I hope not--I hope not!”
A second afterward she added, with more than the bitterness of tears in her trembling voice, ”And--and I was thinking of General von Zoesch's congratulations, mother.”
CHAPTER LVI.
A COMMISSION.
Lord Evelyn obeyed his friend's summons in considerable anxiety, if not even alarm; for he made no doubt that it had some connection with that mysterious undertaking to which Brand was pledged; but when he reached Lisle Street, and was shown into the larger room, no very serious business seemed going forward. Two or three of the best-known to him among the English members of the Society were present, grouped round a certain Irish M.P., who, with twinkling eyes but otherwise grave face, was describing the makes.h.i.+fts of some provincial manager or other who could not pay his company their weekly salary. To the further surprise of the new-comer, also, Mr. Lind was absent; his chair was occupied by Gathorne Edwards.
He was asked to go into an inner room; and there he found Brand, looking much more like himself than he had done for some time back.
”It is awfully kind of you, Evelyn, to come at once. I heard you had returned to town yesterday. Well, what of the old people down in Wilts.h.i.+re?”
Lord Evelyn was quite thrown off his guard by this frank cheerfulness.
He forgot the uneasy forebodings with which he had left his house.
”Oh, capital old people!” he said, putting his hat and umbrella on the table--”excellent. But you see, Brand, it becomes a serious question if I have to bury myself in the country, and drink port-wine after dinner, and listen to full-blown, full-fed glorious old Tories, every time a sister of mine gets engaged to be married. And now that Rosalys has begun it, they'll all take to it, one after the other, like sheep jumping a ditch.”
”They say Milbanke is a very nice young fellow,” said Brand.
”Petted, a little. But then, an only son, and heaps of money: perhaps its natural. I know he is a ghastly hypocrite,” added Lord Evelyn, who seemed to have some little grudge against his brother-in-law in prospect. ”It was too bad of him to go egging on those old megatheria to talk politics until they were red in the face, denouncing Free-trade, and abusing the Ballot, and foretelling the ruin of the former as soon as the Education Act began to work. Then he pretended to be on their side--”
”What did you do?”
”I sat quiet. I was afraid I might be eaten. I relapsed into contemplation; and began to compose a volume on 'Tory Types: Some Survivals in English Politics. For the Information of Town Readers.'”
”Well, now you have done your duty, and cemented the alliance between the two families--by drinking port-wine, I suppose--what do you say to a little pleasure-trip?”
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