CHAPTER 43.
‘MAMMA! uncle! such a pretty little steamer!’ cried the elder of Margaret’s little girls, running into the room where she sat with Noel next morning, at a somewhat late breakfast. Looking out, Noel saw a small excursion steamer approaching
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the town, having a number of passengers on deck, evidently for the most part English tourists; and he thought to himself how much pleasanter would be the quiet row with Margaret, than the bustle of a number of talkative sight-seers.
A few minutes afterwards a note, written in pencil, was brought to him. It was from Sophia Bevan: –
‘We are all on board, and have brought all the foreign population of
Noel had just been describing for Margaret their row to Capri, and they were looking forward to the delight of reclining at ease in their boat, gazing up at the blue sky, and down into the magical ultramarine of the water; gliding by the isles of the Sirens, and listening the while to the choruses of the boatmen, for one of which he had years before written some words, which, rude and simple, went well, he thought, with the swing of the air and the sweep of the oars, and which he would teach her to sing.
They had not recovered from a certain amount of dismay occasioned by the
threatened inroad upon their plans, when Sophia burst in with even more than her
old hearty, affectionate boisterousness, and for the next few minutes all was
demonstration and
‘But where are the little darlings?’ she cried presently, on remembering that Margaret had children. ‘I dote on babies, and am sure I can eat yours.’
Margaret smiled, and went of the door, but the dame, who had been watching for this opportunity, entered at the moment, and led the little things up to Sophia. She went into genuine ecstasies over their delicate spiritual beauty, declaring that she must change places with the dame, and take charge of them herself. And then she sat down and took them both in her lap, and sang them a charming child’s ballad, while they opened their eyes very wide indeed at the spectacle of an energy and an animation that was so new to them.
‘And now what will aunty and uncle say to my keeping them waiting all this time? What do you say? Will you come with us in the steamer, and have a peep at Pæstum before going
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to
‘I take my orders here,’ said Noel, turning to Margaret. ‘I must go down and see my uncle, but I think you are hardly sufficiently recovered from the fatigue you felt so much yesterday, to encounter the society of the steamer. It is hard to part from you so soon again,’ said to Sophia, ‘but unless you stay and go with us in the boat, I really think we had better keep to our original plan, and meet you at Capri on your return; when I shall give up my charge to the exclusive care of Lady Bevan and yourself, and ask for a receipt to forward to James.’
‘I wish we had known sooner of your coming,’ said Sophia, ‘and then we would not have invited the party in the steamer. I tell you what I will do. I will bid them content themselves for to-day with ranging over Amalfi; and bring mamma and Mr. Tresham up here to you, and all go home together in the evening. Will that suit you, Margaret?’
‘I do not like to disappoint your guests,’ she replied, ‘but I am not equal to much to-day. I must leave it to you to settle for me.’
So Noel accompanied Sophia down to the steamer, where he was grieved to find his uncle altogether aged and weakened, and much changed from the hale man he had known him.
Mr. Tresham was much affected at seeing once more the nephew whom he regarded as a son, but said so cheerily that he should soon pick up again, now that Edmund had returned to look after him, that Noel felt a degree of remorse at having so long absented himself from his only relative, and at haying suffered the absorbing interest of his love to make him oblivious of the duties which, he now perceived, he owed elsewhere.
A short consultation then took place, which ended in Noel getting his own way, and preventing Sophia from rejoining Margaret, – whom he knew to be little equal to the stimulus of her society just then, – by insisting on her going with them to Pæstum, while Lady Bevan went ashore to keep her niece quiet company until the steamer should return.
The excursion, which may readily be imagined to have formed for Edmund no slight contrast to that which he would have arranged for himself, had circumstances allowed it, nevertheless afforded much material for admiration and enjoyment.
Sophia seemed to him grander than ever in her exhaustless energy and wit; but was unable to determine whether she
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had really grown in these respects, or whether she only seemed so by virtue of the contrast she made with the calm divinity of his adoration.
‘Well, dear boy,’ was her greeting, on getting him into a corner by themselves, after presenting him to the party, ‘it is so nice to have you back again, and I have such heaps to tell you, and to get you to do for me. All my projects for reforming the world are at a standstill for want of a masculine coadjutor. I used to think I could get on by myself, or, at least, that I could find unmarried women who could unite with me in my projects for bettering the condition of our sex. But of no ten virgins, now-a-days, are anything like so many as five wise. And I very much doubt if there ever were. And now tell me all about James Maynard, and how he came to let his wife elope with you. Do you know, it is very funny.’
‘It seemed the only thing to be done,’ replied Edmund, in a quiet matter-of-fact tone that precluded controversy. ‘Your letter about my uncle left me no option about coming home at once, and James had long made up his mind to send his family to England, unless things promised to become quieter in Mexico. The effect of the intervention promises to be by no means a quieting one at present, but he rather hastened his plans for the sake of availing himself of my escort. I am most anxious for his letters by next mail, to know both how public affairs are going on, and how he bears his loneliness.’
‘And is Margaret very anxious?’
‘Oh, yes. I suspect it is as much the expectation of having a letter from him in a day or two, as her journey, that has knocked her up. Calm and quiet as she appears to be, she has very deep sympathies where her affections are engaged. For herself, she is as strong to bear as you are to act.’
‘And you think my fears as to their unhappiness are unfounded?’
‘Really,’ he replied, laughing, ‘you tax my powers of discernment too far. You know them both well enough to be aware that neither of them are common characters; and therefore, you can understand that their what is called “happiness” would scarcely be indicated by the ordinary demonstrations. But I think that in such matters it is best for those who have a right to be interested to form their own judgment.’
‘Do you know,’ said Sophia, shifting the subject, ‘that it is so pleasant to see you come home looking nice, and presentable,
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and even Londony, when I half fancied
you would be rough and unrefined, and bearded like a gold-digger, after your
life in
Noel saw that Sophia, divining a cause in his association with Margaret, was only trying to get at his secret by another road; but he was too well on his guard to be drawn in that way; and went on to ask about his uncle. She, however, could only say that she did not know what mental cause there might be for his illness. That these city men were so close on the subject of their credit, that even if he had been worried by his affairs going wrong, he never would have mentioned it. And then the conversation was brought to an end by their approaching the shore, where the famous old temples, standing grandly amid the wild desolation of the ancient Calabrian coast, engaged all the attention of their visitors.
The hint that his uncle might have been unfortunate as well as ill, evoked from Noel even more than usual tenderness in his manner to the old man. Giving him his arm, he supported him along the rough walk from the beach to the ruins; and Mr. Tresham, grateful for the attention and affection, intimated that he had been imaging for Edmund’s return, as there was much that he wanted to talk to him about.
‘Well, uncle, if it is business, we will postpone it till tomorrow. Thank heaven, there is no chance of either of us starving, and that is about all I care for. I have no ambition to be rich, so long as I have my health and brains. I have a new mistress now, who can dispense with wealth.’
‘Indeed, indeed, my boy? And who and what may she be?’ asked Mr. Tresham, somewhat gravely.
‘Only Art, uncle. I mean to work, whether rich or poor, and to make my own name and fame. There is so much to be studied, and learnt, and done in the world, that I need no stewardship of fortune to occupy my time. Ah, uncle, great and important as is the world in which you have played so conspicuous and useful a part, there is another world that seems to claim me for its own, even the world of knowledge, and truth, and goodness, and beauty, all of which are comprised in the word Art. Why, on this very stone, on which you shall sit and rest a bit, are carved characters and emblems which, to the instructed eye, reveal the rudimentary unity of all the religions
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of mankind, and enable us to trace back for thousands of years the mental history of our race.’
So Edmund ran on, tending and cheering the broken old man, while talking of things little comprehensible by him. And his end was gained, for he heard his uncle murmur, as he rose from the stone, –
‘Well, well, it is fortunate, and I need not be so much troubled as I have been; for you, at least, will not be bitterly disappointed.’
Arrived at the noble
He gathered from the highest point to which he could climb a spray of green and a wildflower to take to Margaret, and was glad when the time came for re-embarking.
The return was enlivened by gay songs and sparkling witticisms, in both of which
departments Sophia shone pre-eminent. The party at Amalfi was called for, and
END OF PART II
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