Part 24 (1/2)
”Come along! Let us get in!” and Gwent caught Manella's hand--”Run!”
And like children they ran together through the garden into the Plaza lounge, reaching it just before a second lightning flash and peal of thunder renewed double emphasis.
”Storm!” observed a long-faced invalid man in a rocking-chair, looking at them as they hurried in.
”Yes! Storm it is!” responded Gwent, releasing the hand of his companion--”Good-night, Miss Soriso!”
She inclined her head graceful, smiling.
”Good-night, Senor!”
CHAPTER XIV
Convention is still occasionally studied even in these unconventional days, and Morgana Royal, independent and wealthy young woman as she was, had subscribed to its rule and ordinance by engaging a chaperone,--a ”dear old English lady of t.i.tle,” as she had described her to the Marchese Rivardi. Lady Kingswood merited the description thus given of her, for she was distinctly a dear old English lady, and her t.i.tle was the least thing about her, especially in her own opinion.
There was no taint of sn.o.bbery in her simple, kindly disposition, and when her late husband, a distinguished military officer, had been knighted for special and splendid service in the war, she had only deplored that the ruin of his health and disablement by wounds, prevented him from taking any personal pleasure in the ”honour.” His death followed soon after the King's recognition of his merit, and she was left with his pension to live upon, and a daughter who having married in haste repented at leisure, being deserted by a drunken husband and left with two small children to nourish and educate.
Naturally, Lady Kingswood took much of their care upon herself--but the pension of a war widow will not stretch further than a given point, and she found it both necessary and urgent to think of some means by which she could augment her slender income. She was not a clever woman,--she had no special talents,--her eyes would not stand her in good stead for plain sewing, and she could not even manage a typing machine. But she had exquisitely gentle manners,--she was well-bred and tactful, and, rightly judging that good-breeding and tact are valuable a.s.sets in some quarters of the ”new” society, she sought, through various private channels, for a post as companion or ”chaperone” to ”one lady.” Just when she was rather losing hope as to the success of her effort, the ”one lady” came along in the elfin personality of Morgana Royal, who, after a brief interview in London, selected her with a decision as rapid as it was inexplicable, offering her a salary of five hundred a year, which to Lady Kingswood was a small fortune.
”You will have nothing to do but just be pleasant!” Morgana had told her, smilingly, ”And enjoy your self as you like. Of course I do not expect to be controlled or questioned,--I am an independent woman, and go my own way, but I'm not at all 'modern.' I don't drink or smoke or 'dope,' or crave for male society. I think you'll find yourself all right!”
And Lady Kingswood had indeed ”found herself all right.” Her own daughter had never been so thoughtful for her comfort as Morgana was, and she became day by day more interested and fascinated by the original turn of mind and the bewitching personality of the strange little creature for whom the ordinary amus.e.m.e.nts of society seemed to have no attraction. And now, installed in her own sumptuously fitted rooms in the Palazzo d'Oro, Morgana's Sicilian paradise, she almost forgot there was such a thing as poverty, or the sordid business of ”making both ends meet.” Walking up and down the rose-marble loggia and looking out to the exquisite blue of the sea, she inwardly thanked G.o.d for all His mercies, and wondered at the exceptional good luck that had brought her so much peace, combined with comfort and luxury in the evening of her days. She was a handsome old lady; her refined features, soft blue eyes and white hair were a ”composition” for an eighteenth-century French miniature, and her dress combined quiet elegance with careful taste. She was inflexibly loyal to her stated position; she neither ”questioned” nor ”controlled” Morgana, or attempted to intrude an opinion as to her actions or movements,--and if, as was only natural, she felt a certain curiosity concerning the aims and doings of so brilliant and witch-like a personality she showed no sign of it. She was interested in the Marchese Rivardi, but still more so in the priest, Don Aloysius, to whom she felt singularly attracted, partly by his own dignified appearance and manner, and partly by the leaning she herself had towards the Catholic Faith where ”Woman” is made sacred in the person of the Holy Virgin, and deemed worthy of making intercession with the Divine. She knew, as we all in our innermost souls know, that it is a symbol of the greatest truth that can ever be taught to humanity.
The special morning on which she walked, leaning slightly on a silver-k.n.o.bbed stick, up and down the loggia and looked at the sea, was one of rare beauty even in Sicily, the sky being of that pure ethereal blue for which one can hardly find a comparison in colour, and the ocean below reflecting it, tone for tone, as in a mirror. In the terraced garden, half lost among the intertwining blossoms, Morgana moved to and fro, gathering roses,--her little figure like a white rose itself set in among the green leaves. Lady Kingswood watched her, with kindly, half compa.s.sionate eyes.
”It must be a terrible responsibility for her to have so much money!”
she thought. ”She can hardly know what to do with it! And somehow--I do not think she will marry.”
At that moment Morgana came slowly up the steps cut in the gra.s.s bordered on either side by flowers, and approached her.
”Here are some roses for you, dear 'd.u.c.h.ess!'” she said, ”d.u.c.h.ess”
being the familiar or ”pet” name she elected to call her by. ”Specially selected, I a.s.sure you! Are you tired?--or may I have a talk?”
Lady Kingswood took the roses with a smile, touching Morgana's cheek playfully with one of the paler pink buds.
”A talk by all means!” she replied--”How can I be tired, dear child?
I'm a lazy old woman, doing nothing all day but enjoy myself!”
Morgana nodded her golden head approvingly.
”That's right!--I'm glad!” she said. ”That's what I want you to do!
It's a pretty place, this Palazzo d'Oro, don't you think?”
”More than pretty--it's a perfect paradise!” declared Lady Kingswood, emphatically.
”Well, I'm glad you like it”--went on Morgana--”Because then you won't mind staying here and looking after it when I'm away. I'll have to go away quite soon.”