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 KOOCABELLA: 
 
 A TALE 
 
 OF A WOMAN'S LIFE 
 
 BY PAUL BELL. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 JAMES BLACKWOOD, PATEENOSTER PvOW. 
 
 [The Riyht of Translation is Reserved.']
 
 
 DEDICATOET. 
 
 "^ ±0 THE AUTHOR OF " AURORA LEIGH." 
 
 en 1 
 
 ^ • More than half of the followino; tale was 
 2: told, on paper, some years ago. It was 
 "^then my intention, being the eldest-born 
 of the Phantom family, to inscribe it to 
 Currer Bell — as my pleading in the argu- 
 ment of a question so passionately referred 
 ">to in "Jane Eyre" and "Shirley." But 
 \J losses of dear friends by death — discourage- 
 ^' ments justly or unjustly incurred — and the 
 falling away of some on whom reliance had 
 been implicit — came in merciless succession ; 
 and the fancy and the heart stopped — and, 
 with them, the pen. — I never thought to 
 finish this tale. But the humour came back 
 not long ago, and (for better, for worse) 
 the history is here brought to a close.
 
 IV DEDICATORr. 
 
 There is always something of melancholy 
 in returning to an interrupted task, what- 
 ever may have caused the interruption. 
 During my pause, the gifted woman to whom 
 I meant to inscribe this story has gone to 
 rest. The stirrings of her busy heart have 
 ceased — her vivid imaginings have melted 
 away in the shadows of the valley. But in 
 resuming a labour long laid aside, I did not 
 find that I had any words to unsay; be- 
 cause the thoughts which my earlier ones 
 had expressed or symbolized had been of 
 late thought out by others in another and a 
 better form. — Time, and added experience 
 of life, and sorrow, add earnestness, per- 
 haps, in proportion as they dim the hopeful 
 spirit under which the younger aspirant 
 commences his work ; but it has been my 
 lot to find few things bad which I found 
 good — no matter how many years ago — 
 or vice versd. Constancy in prejudice, con- 
 stancy in pursuit, however, are in my poor 
 case accompanied by constancy in admira-
 
 DEDICATORY. V 
 
 tion; and thus, to one whom I have long 
 held to be the most distinguished of women 
 gifted for poetical authorship whom England 
 has ever produced, this plain, but perhaps 
 not untruthful, story of a woman's heart is, 
 in all sincere respect, dedicated by her 
 old friend, 
 
 PAUL BELL. 
 
 August, 1859.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Chapter L The Husband 1 
 
 II. The Husband's Kelations 17 
 
 III. The Companion 42 
 
 IV. First Hours in London 57 
 
 V. The Italian Master 76- 
 
 VI. Other New Acquaintances .... 84 
 
 VII. The Eefugees 107 
 
 VIII. A Friend in Need 123 
 
 IX. A Partie Quarree 141 
 
 X. The Good Fairy 154 
 
 XI. The Sublime and the Ridiculous . . 166 
 
 XII. The Silver Box 187 
 
 XIII. Sympathy 204 
 
 XIV. A Chapter of Correspondence . . . 210 
 XV. Great Conspirators 231 
 
 XVI. Settlements 242 
 
 XVIT. Leave-takings 259 
 
 XVIII. " Turned off " 278
 
 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE HUSBAND. 
 
 A BEAUTIFUL and Still young woman was 
 musing betwixt cliimney-corner and window, 
 about five o'clock on one of the dreariest 
 afternoons of a certain November, 18 — , in 
 a sitting-room, commanding for prospect a 
 street of bygone fashion in the town of 
 Liverpool. — The huge fire was burning as 
 fires burn only in Lancashire. The apart- 
 ment which it lit up, draperied with mellow- 
 coloured hangings, and fitted with every 
 appliance for comfort, made a picture which 
 may have struck a pang to the heart of 
 many a bleak, care-crazed creature passing by, 
 lured to stop and look in by the brilliancy 
 of the light and the richness of the colours. 
 The lady's dress was in harmony with her 
 habitation ; but whether a face wearing a 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 Z EOCCABELLA. 
 
 more painful expression could have been 
 found on that afternoon throughout the wide 
 seaport town of Liverpool, is doubtful. 
 Unhappiness — consciousness of imprison- 
 ment — something of rebellion, even — were in 
 every line of it. The brow was knit with 
 a heavy frown; and the lips worked and 
 talked, though there was no one to see or to 
 hear. The servant who entered, and who 
 was obliged three times to say, " If you 
 please, ma'am, my master has sent up word 
 that two gentlemen are coming to dinner," 
 ere his mistress turned, and gave the needful 
 orders — would have profited little by her 
 soliloquy had he heard it; supposing it 
 possible that the same had arranged itsdf 
 after the complete and explanatory fashion 
 of the stage. 
 
 It would have told merely the old tale, of 
 unexplained desires, of blanked sympathies, 
 of an entangled, profitless life, — in which so 
 many a woman's confessions would be 
 summed up. Eosamond was, beyond expres- 
 sion, sick of a monotonous existence, passed 
 among people with whom she had nothing 
 in cowamon. She wished to be earning her 
 own bread : she longed for excitement — for
 
 THE HUSBAND. 3 
 
 London — for foreign travel; to talk with 
 poets and persons of genius — to escape from 
 the stupifying dinners of eighteen, and the 
 inanity of balls, at which every body was 
 too grand — or not grand enough — to enjoy 
 themselves. She hated herself that she had 
 been entrapped into such a thraldom for 
 life as this. She almost hated him who had 
 done it — a man who could not comprehend 
 her nature — who was satisfied if she was 
 superbly clothed and luxuriously fed, and 
 whose family and whose associates always 
 eyed her as though she had stood between 
 somebody else and good fortune. There 
 was her harp — but who cared to hear it ? 
 There were her books ; but the more she read 
 them, the worse became her malady. To 
 whom could she dare to tell the thoughts 
 which they set fermenting in her busy, sleep- 
 less mind ? Mrs. A would call her insane ; 
 
 Mrs. B a monster of ingratitude, recol- 
 lecting that she had been an orphan, and a 
 poor relation to boot, married so regally, 
 and with every wish, almost, granted! 
 
 Mrs. C would condole with her husband, 
 
 there and then. Mrs. D , E , and 
 
 F would threaten to ^' cut her," and
 
 4 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 keep their words, until such time as her 
 next dinner-cards were sent out. Mrs. 
 
 G would drench her with tracts, and the 
 
 offer to bring down upon her a silky-spoken 
 clergyman, whom she could not admire nor 
 
 endure. Mrs. H would cry over her, 
 
 wish that Heaven had blessed her sweet 
 
 friend with a child. Mrs. I would 
 
 flatter her with that false vulgar flattery 
 which nearly drove her beyond patience 
 and civility. And she was to go on to 
 the end of her days in this way — listless 
 and miserable and alone! — There was 
 wretched, driving sleet without ; the black 
 mud was ankle deep in the street. No 
 sound was to be heard, save the heavy 
 drays and water-side carts as they lunged 
 past, and the sharp approach of the post- 
 man's bell, as he sped along collecting 
 letters — some, she thought, for London ! 
 In after days the ideas which passed through 
 Rosamond's mind during that hour made 
 her shudder and wonder. 
 
 "What shall I lay out for you, ma'am ? " 
 was her maid's question. " My black silk." 
 Rosamond was fond of dressing in black ; 
 and that day her approach to mourning was
 
 THE HUSBAND. 5 
 
 even deeper than usual; — since, feeling chill, 
 she threw round her a large shawl of 
 Chantilly lace, before she descended to the 
 drawing-room. The announced guests were 
 two, and one gentleman beside — Mr. Oli- 
 phant, her husband's solicitor. The others, 
 presented to her in a voice to which she did not 
 take the pains to attend, were for her merely 
 anonymous men — strangers, however — and 
 she perceived by their accent not belonging 
 to Lancashire. One of them, of course, took 
 her down to dinner. 
 
 The strong lamp-light thrown upon the 
 table gave Rosamond a passing impression 
 that her husband's guests were something 
 different from, if not superior to, the gene- 
 rality of those who sat beside her. One — 
 whom the other two called " Doctor" — looked 
 worn with shrewdness, she thought — yet had 
 curiously settled, not to say, set expression 
 of countenance. The other eat an outrageous 
 dinner, and seemed capable of falling asleep 
 while he was eating it, and what he said was 
 the merest commonplace in substance; yet 
 there was a more than ordinary decision in 
 his manner of asking for bread, and a screen, 
 and of inquiring when the new Borough
 
 6 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 Courts would be finished. Neither the smooth 
 nor the strong visiter (thus they involun- 
 tarily presented themselves to Rosamond's 
 apprehension) made any remarkable efforts 
 for her entertainment; and on her side she was 
 too indifferent to exert herself. — Mr. Oli- 
 phant's three jokes, and one good story, she 
 knew by heart ; and they came as usual with- 
 out being asked for. Accordingly, having sat 
 for the proper length of time, abstracted, 
 silent, and what most people would have 
 thought haughty, Rosamond retired to the 
 monotonous comfort of her drawing-room, 
 neither quickened, nor cheered, nor refresh- 
 ed, — nor even her curiosity stirred as to the 
 nature and errand of her husband's guests. 
 In truth, she had hardly quitted the desert of 
 her own dreary meditations, to which she 
 now returned with that eagerness which 
 partakes of the nature of self-torment. It 
 grew late, but no candles were lighted. 
 The frivolous occupation for her fingers, 
 which seemed to occupy her wholly, could 
 be done as w^ell in darkness as in daylight ; 
 and if the shuttle were to pause for a week, 
 what matter ? She had no idea what might 
 be the time, when her attention -was arrested
 
 THE HUSBAND. 7 
 
 by the sound of a carriage stopping suddenly 
 at the door. Half unconscious what she did, 
 Rosamond hastened to the window just in 
 time to see a pair of dark figures (the dinner 
 guests) disappear into it, and to hear the door 
 shut to, and the direction '^ Lime Street Sta- 
 tion " hastily given. The vehicle was gone, 
 and all was still again. 
 
 The direction did Rosamond no good. 
 Her fancy, too, was flying along the '' London 
 road," towards what she could only vaguely 
 dream ',—from what, she knew well, and with a 
 familiarity which almost took the form of 
 loathing. Possibly, in the confessions from 
 which this account of the state of her mind 
 is derived, Rosamond exaggerated her 
 weariness and discontent. Women are apt to 
 do so, when they call attention to their 
 own past emotions, — sometimes out of peni- 
 tence, sometimes from their desire for sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 Another hour elapsed, and still no lights 
 were brought in, the certain prelude of Mr. 
 Westwood's ascent from the dining-room. 
 ^' He will not want me, if he should come up 
 to tea," at last said the weary wife, rousing 
 herself as she retired to her own sanctuary
 
 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 for the night. There, when the maid was 
 shut out, Rosamond knew that she might 
 unhesitatingly give herself up to the com- 
 pany of her own thoughts, without fear of 
 disturbance or intrusion. — Among other bad 
 habits of self-indulgence, she had contracted 
 that of reading in bed,—" reading herself to 
 sleep," was the pretext. That night the 
 new French novel, temptingly placed on the 
 little table with its green velvet cover, was 
 flown to with unusual avidity ; so many 
 were the discontents which it seemed to 
 utter for her — so excellently did all its 
 highly coloured scenes of storm and passion 
 suit her impatient and undisciplined spirit ! 
 
 The tale was one of a woman like herself, 
 ill-married — mated to wealth, hard calcu- 
 lation, and unrefined stubbornness. Other 
 figures were in the masque, painted, to 
 borrow a fanciful simile, as if the artist had 
 used the prismatic fire-tints of the volcano. 
 Rosamond did not know how long she had 
 read, till, on closing the second volume, the 
 silver chime of her pendule tolled out "two 
 o'clock." 
 
 She paused breathless with terror — not at 
 the lateness of the hour, but because of
 
 THE HUSBAND. 9 
 
 another sound — the sound of a slow foot 
 upon the stairs, which also paused before 
 her door; and because of the hoarse voice 
 which an instant afterwards said, " Your light 
 is burning; you are awake. May I come in ?" 
 
 A little sofa covered with gay chintz stood 
 at the foot of her bed. On this the husband 
 sat himself slowly down — a dull, dark, heavy 
 shape. 
 
 After pausing for a moment, " Do you 
 know," said he abruptly, " who those two men 
 were that dined here ? " 
 
 ^' No, sir," was the trembling answer. 
 
 "One was ," and Mr. Westwood 
 
 named a famous London surgeon. The 
 other was Mr. Bessell, — a London solicitor 
 of like eminence. 
 
 " I did not catch their names," replied the 
 wife. 
 
 "I did not fancy you did ; with your 
 mind set upon other things as it is, I do not 
 wonder. . . . But you may have cause to 
 remember the day they dined here." 
 
 " Good God ! Mr. Westwood, is any thing 
 of consequence the matter ? " 
 
 " Yes," was the gloomy answer, " to me of 
 consequence enough. You would feel it of
 
 10 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 consequence, Rosamond, to be told that you 
 had a bare fortnight to live, or thereabouts, — 
 if you had as many concerns to see after 
 and to settle as I have." 
 
 Rosamond's first idea was that her hus- 
 band was in liquor. But she knew that he 
 never drank to excess. Her second thought 
 was one of blended amazement, horror; — 
 remorse, too, as if a spear had passed through 
 the very centre of her heart, — but not of grief 
 
 '^You are shocked, no doubt, Rosamond, 
 for we take such little notice of each other," 
 — harsher and more mournful grew the voice 
 as it said these words — " that the thing might 
 easily have happened before it struck you 
 that I looked worse in health than usual. 
 But there is little doubt about the matter. 
 This day three weeks I shall be in the 
 churchyard; and you will have the world 
 before you again." 
 
 Rosamond tried to speak, but no words 
 would come. " I thought, first," he went on, 
 " I would write it to you ; but I shall have 
 too much to write as it is, and words are 
 the simplest. I wish to consult you before 
 my will is finally drawn out ; and this is 
 why I came in." 
 
 ^
 
 THE HUSBAND. 11 
 
 Still no kind Avord from the agitated 
 woman. 0, it was impossible that her 
 first kind word to her husband could come 
 then I 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Westwood," he re- 
 sumed, ^'for letting me go on steadily. It 
 hurts me now to raise my voice long at a 
 time. I suppose you have no idea of what 
 money I have to leave. How much would 
 satisfy you ? " 
 
 ''0, sir ! in Heaven's blessed name I 
 beseech you, do not think — do not speak of 
 such things. It cannot — it shall not be 
 
 as you say ! No one can tell. 
 
 They are mistaken. Cases of mistake are 
 perpetually occurring ! Why should we 
 not go to London ourselves, at once, for 
 other advice ? No one can have any right 
 to pronounce upon life and death ! It is 
 hideous ! It is wicked ! " And down rained 
 the tears, which had been only wanting an 
 excuse to rain down. 
 
 " No ! he is right enough. It is all true 
 — I have thought so myself for some 
 weeks; but I wished to be sure. There 
 is no use in being distressed : nothing can 
 be done. I must face the next world; but
 
 12 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 before I face it I will try to settle my 
 affairs in this one like a just man. About 
 the money, — how much will make you com- 
 fortable, Rosamond? " 
 
 Faster and more passionate became her 
 sobs — till a grave, almost a stern, " Pray 
 be still," rebuked them into silence. "I 
 cannot go on until you are calmer. This is 
 what I mean to arrange. You can hear it, 
 turn it in your mind, and let me know — any 
 time before four o'clock to-morrow afternoon, 
 will do. 
 
 " You know that you are not on terms 
 with my family. It is not your fault. I 
 am aware that, if you had tried to please 
 them ever so much, they would never have 
 forgiven our marriage. I was the favourite 
 with Anne ; and Jane, and George, and 
 Robert made sure of having all my property 
 amongst them. If you had brought a 
 fortune into the concern, indeed .... but as 
 it is, the breach will never be made up ; and 
 I must have matters properly settled, or 
 they will dispute every thing that is done for 
 you, and torment you out of your life." 
 
 Again did Rosamond entreat her husband 
 not to mention such topics — not to think
 
 THE HUSBAND. 13 
 
 of her — not to humble her so : but again 
 he begged her to be silent — almost sternly. 
 His time and composure were precious. 
 
 " You know that when we married," conti- 
 nued Mr. AYestwood, "you would not hear of 
 any settlement. I thought it very handsome 
 of you. It seemed to me a proof that you 
 could not merely be marrying for money. 
 But the wisest of us may be mistaken. 
 Both you and I have been so. You would 
 have been happier out in the world, earning 
 your bread, than cooped up here as a Liver- 
 pool fine lady. And I but you will 
 
 be all the better off now, for not having 
 been eager then. It is but just. I shall 
 leave you four thousand a-year, in the 
 hands of men I can rely upon as trustees. 
 There's as much aoain to be divided amons; 
 the rest of them, even if they were not rich 
 enough already — but they will grudge you 
 your share, and so I shall have it put high 
 and dry beyond their reach." 
 
 "I cannot! I will not!" .... 
 
 "You must keep yourself calm for a 
 little moment longer, Kosamond: I have 
 much besides this to arrange, and they 
 ordered me to avoid agitation as much as
 
 14 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 possible. But, my dear, in leaving you this 
 money, which I hope will enable you to 
 gratify all your reasonable wishes, — I should 
 be guilty if I were to expose you to the 
 chances of a second match, which should 
 turn out as bad a one as ours has been. You'll 
 be courted for your fortune; and if you 
 are married upon it, no good will come to 
 either you or the man who does it. It is to go 
 from you when you marry again. That is 
 what I had to say — think it over, and 
 if you find it will not answer, let me hear. — I 
 wish to consider every body — you particu- 
 larly — now; and to do what is fair and 
 friendly. Pray be still. I have said what 
 I wanted ; and you can sleep upon it." 
 
 The dull, dark, heavy shape got slowly up 
 from the gay little sofa. The door was shut, 
 the steps died away, and Eosamond was left 
 alone, in the midst of a storm of distressful 
 and conflicting thoughts, such as are not to 
 be described. Were her feelings most largely 
 those of wonder, or terror, or remorse ? 
 Had distaste a share in them — a sense of 
 injustice and of generosity curiously blend- 
 ed — a conviction within herself, that 
 with all the superiority of her uncouth,
 
 THE HUSBAND. 15. 
 
 unlovely husband over herself, in the scene 
 just closed, he had studied retaliation as 
 well as forgiveness? — not in the condition of 
 his bequest !— no, for the retainhig or 
 the loss of fortune were of no more conse- 
 quence to Rosamond, than so many things 
 that might pass in another hemisphere — 
 but in his harsh, formal, stern manner of 
 announcing it — in his predetermined reso- 
 lution to hear no pleadings, no qualifications 
 of hers ! — Should she not write and decline 
 the gift ? Ah ! she knew well that that 
 would not avail — it would be despised as 
 theatrical : as a piece of acting got up by 
 one who well knew that it would not 
 deceive or persuade its object. I love my 
 heroine well : but truth is truth — and few, too 
 few, were the thoughts of compassion and 
 regard which suggested themselves in favour 
 of the toil-broken, dying man, who was 
 spending his last hours of life, howsoever 
 ungracefully, in making an equitable and 
 considerate distribution of his vast wealth. 
 She was perverse; and bitterly, bitterly in 
 after days did she recall and repent of 
 her perversity — when repentance availed 
 nothing.
 
 16 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 Such is the end — had people only the 
 honesty to admit it — of too many a match 
 for money — cruel misunderstandino;, if not 
 worse; dogged, implacable, and placed by its 
 own pride beyond the reach of late relenting, 
 concession, and forgiveness !
 
 THE husband's RELATIONS. 17 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 THE HUSBAND'S RELATIONS. 
 
 Within three weeks from this time I was 
 summoned to Liverpool, to be present at the 
 reading of Mr. Westwood's will, by his 
 solicitor, Mr. Oliphant — I was one of 
 Rosamond's trustees, though but distantly 
 related to her : a second cousin once re- 
 moved, or something of the kind. Yet I 
 was the nearest male relation — almost the 
 solitary relation of either sex whom she pos- 
 sessed. Her mother, the only daughter of an 
 only daughter distantly connected with my 
 parents, had married when she was forty ; 
 and had been left a widow before Rosamond 
 was born. This had happened in the East 
 Indies. We none of us had known much of 
 her husband, beyond the fact that he was an 
 Italian or Spaniard, who had entered the 
 English service. Mrs. de Castro spoke of him 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 reluctantly. Her r^iarriage had proved a 
 failure; and before she returned to Europe, 
 with a small life-interest in some property 
 to live upon, and her daughter to educate 
 and marry, she had assumed that demeanour 
 which distances question and sympathy. 
 Never have I seen so unapproachable a 
 woman. She was as stately as a queen, and 
 as spirited as a lioness. But the illness of 
 which she died was protracted for four years ; 
 and when at last she was released — so far 
 from any personal property being left for the 
 use of her orphan, a few friends had abso- 
 lutely to join in providing for the expenses 
 of her funeral. Thus Rosamond had come to 
 us barely because she had nowhere else to go 
 to, — till some interest made by the gentleman 
 with whose house of business I have been 
 for many years connected, led to her being 
 engaged partly as governess, partly as com- 
 panion by Mrs. Chidley, eldest sister of Mr. 
 Westwood, a great Liverpool merchant. In 
 an evil day, he was captivated by her beauty — 
 offered to marry her — and in an evil day, 
 (we said so at least, who had never been 
 obliged, as my wife puts it, ^' to wrestle with 
 Mrs. Chidley's temper,") Eosamond married
 
 THE husband's RELATIONS. 19 
 
 Mr. Westwood. Their union had lasted 
 seven years. The poor girl ^' had served her 
 time " in learning what a marriage without 
 love could produce. She had rushed into 
 the connection without thought — or, possibly, 
 in a fit of sudden irritation under harassinor 
 usage. Xow the prison door was set open 
 — now she was free to go thence, as the world 
 would phrase it, in triumph ! 
 
 It was with great inconvenience to myself 
 that I got over to Liverpool — nothing doubt- 
 ing all the time, but that I had been sum- 
 moned as a mere matter of form, and that 
 what Mr. Oliphant had told to Eosamond, 
 and had notified to me, had also been com- 
 municated to Mr. Westwood's family. They 
 knew I was aware that their sister-in-law 
 had no marriage settlement — they knew, too, 
 that I knew how cordially they disliked her ; 
 the pretext of such dislike being that she had 
 failed to make their dear brother happy. I 
 had been invited to attend the funeral, but 
 could not manage it ; and thus I did not 
 arrive at the house till considerably after 
 mid-day — a few moments before the business 
 proceedings were to commence. It could 
 not have been Eosamond I was sure, who
 
 20 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 had proposed that Mr. Westwood's will should 
 be read aloud. 
 
 In the drawing-room I found Mr. 
 Oliphant, my brother trustee — George and 
 Robert Westwood — Mrs. and Mr. Chidley 
 (of them one never said, ^'Mr. and Mrs."), and 
 Mrs. James Eick, the other married sister — a 
 widow. This last-named lady needed neither 
 legal adviser nor male relative in protection of 
 her interests. She was a meek woman to look 
 upon, and to listen to; with a pink complexion 
 approaching to lilac spread over her face ; 
 flat blue eyes, profuse flaxen hair — a long 
 mouth with full lips, and a gentle stoop, which 
 seemed to appeal for forbearance. Betwixt 
 her and Mrs. Chidley there was little agree- 
 ment ; for the one was a flaunting dame of 
 the Liverpool world, and the other a gentle- 
 woman devoted to a close attendance at St. 
 Andrew's Church — who took out her gaiety 
 and excitement at missionary meetings, and 
 parties at which, as my wife said, want of 
 charity was expounded out of the Scriptures. 
 A sweeter voice than Mrs. Rick's I never 
 heard : perhaps it was too honied. 
 
 "Do you think, George," said she to the 
 brother whom she always addressed in pre-
 
 THE husband's RELATIONS. 21 
 
 ference, " that the reading had better go on, 
 if Mrs. Westwood prove too ill to leave her 
 room to-day ? " 
 
 " Humph !" was the answer ; " Ollphant, 
 a pinch of snuff. Mr. Bell, 'tis very good 
 of you to come all this way to us on such a 
 melancholy occasion." 
 
 "I suppose, Jane," was Mrs. Chidley's caus- 
 tic rejoinder, " that you have nothing better 
 to do than to make appointments and break 
 them — ^being one of the over-righteous. 
 Mrs. Westwood, I imagine, will be glad 
 enough to be released from suspense with 
 regard to her future : and I shall be relieved 
 if I learn that my brother has made some 
 small settlement on her, since I confess that 
 money concerns betwixt sisters-in-law are un- 
 gracious things — but I fear " 
 
 I saw Mr. OHphant's lip curl at Mrs. 
 Chidley's fear, and mention of the "small 
 settlement." The two men jerked out their 
 watches. The five made up a commonplace, 
 unfeeling group ; and I was beginning to feel 
 hot, and nervous, and treacherous to my charge 
 by saying nothing in the widow's behalf — 
 when the door quietly opened, and in walked 
 Rosamond. She bowed to her husband's
 
 22 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 unsympathetic relatives — sliook hands with 
 ine as she thanked me for coming — adding, 
 in a low voice, ^^This painful arrangement is 
 not of my choosing " — and then took her seat. 
 I had not seen E-osamond for four years ; 
 and was dazzled by the development of her 
 beauty, which had taken place within that 
 period, ^ot only had her form filled up, 
 but her face had in some dcOTee chancjed. A 
 character had appeared in it different to any 
 thing I had seen there before : a certain self- 
 possession and command, telling of passion 
 suppressed, not indulged. Her queenly air 
 rebuked the manners of the two other women, 
 and they felt it. They sat smaller after 
 their superb sister-in-law walked in. She 
 had prepared her composure— ^or, rather, 
 she had hardened herself aorainst all exhibi- 
 tion of emotion — since the widow's cambric 
 handkerchief, ready for tears, was not in her 
 hand ; but a certain strange, picturesque air 
 was imparted by a breadth of crape, that fell 
 over her white cap, neck, and shoulders, after 
 the fashion of a mantilla ; and it gave to her 
 dismal dress a yet more shadowy and nun- 
 appearance than is the wont of the wixiow's 
 doleful uniform.
 
 THE husband's RELATIONS. 23 
 
 Mr. Olipliant began to read. The loss of 
 a tooth hampered his articulation : besides, 
 he was habitually slow, and seemed to lore his 
 way along the parchment lines through his 
 spectacles ; — but never was play, in which 
 Siddons kept her thousand subjects en- 
 thralled, followed with such rapacious interest 
 as was that formal document by five of the 
 listeners. I was eager, too ; — but, having been 
 apprized that Rosamond was royally cared 
 for, my eagerness was to mark the effect of 
 the bequest upon the others. They sat, 
 with necks craned forward, mouths half open, 
 eyes glistening, hands alert to the finger-tips, 
 while the drowsy, dreary preamble was 
 droned out — a composition as long and 
 tedious as if those who framed it had deter- 
 mined to show the world how the clearest 
 intention could be expanded over the largest 
 surface. I saw, even, a certain smile of 
 satisfaction steal over the face of " Mrs. 
 James " — a smile of one satisfied that the 
 work had been thoroughly done, and that 
 Law had tied money fast, beyond dispute or 
 untying. 
 
 But the longest preamble has its period : 
 after the preamble came the bequests. The
 
 24 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 first in the schedule was Kosamond's four 
 thousand a-year. 
 
 "Mr. Ohphant!" exclaimed Mrs Chidley, 
 violently pushing hack her chair. 
 
 "I am afraid I don't make myself heard," 
 said the matter-of-fact solicitor — "owing to 
 this rheumatism on the left side of my head 
 and face. Perhaps I had better read that 
 clause again." 
 
 "I understand every thing perfectly/' 
 said the more Christian Mrs. Rick, with 
 dagger, bowl, and burial-without-benefit-of- 
 clergy, in her better modulated tones. '^ Sure- 
 ly there is no occasion to trouble dear Mr. 
 Ollphant, as he reads with difficulty — unless 
 Mrs. Westwood would like to hear the clause 
 a second time." 
 
 " I^ot on my account, madam," replied a 
 steady voice from behind the veil. 
 
 " Are we doing business here, or are we 
 not ? " — vociferated the elder sister, who was 
 apt to lose her self-command on such occa- 
 sions. " I must hear that again. I make a 
 point of it.. The idea is so monstrous, that 
 we may well desire to be convinced of its 
 reality." 
 
 '* You will discuss the subject with more
 
 25 
 
 freedom in my absence," said the widow. 
 " I appeared here in compUance with the 
 wishes of Mr. Westwood's family ; but I am 
 not prepared to-day for having his bequests 
 canvassed. If there is any thing of imme- 
 diate consequence which I am required to 
 know — Mr. Bell, I trust to your kindness to 
 acquaint me. Meanwhile, this is not my 
 place." And Rosamond rose and retired. 
 
 " There, Anne ! " said the sanctimonious 
 lady, looking first to see that the door was 
 shut. '' Consider what your impetuosity has 
 done — afforded another fellow-creature excuse 
 for withdrawino^ from her duties ! Think 
 what we may on any given subject, we should 
 bridle that unruly member the tongue .... 
 Perhaps, however, you wish to break with 
 our dear brother's widow ? " 
 
 " Perhaps you wish to make friends with 
 your dear brother's wife now 1 " was the tart 
 rejoinder. " We all know Mrs. Eick of old. 
 But, my dear ! you know / don't pretend to 
 being religious like you, my dear ! nor to for- 
 giving my enemies when they come in for 
 grand legacies, my dear ! — and you know I 
 cannot wear two faces under a hood, nor go 
 on admiring folks when I despise them, my
 
 26 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 dear! — I'll never believe but that all that 
 henbane our poor dear brother took affected 
 his intellect; and, before I sit down contented- 
 ly under such a piece of spoliation as this, 
 my dear ! I shall see what Dr. Glossop has 
 to tell us on the subject, my dear ! — Yes ; and 
 Mrs. Westwood's trustee — Mr. Bell, I believe, 
 is the person's name, sir^ — may hear what I 
 say — every word he may, my dear ! — and he 
 may put it down with a pencil if he likes, and 
 he may read it to your dear brother's wife if 
 he likes. Speak out I must, and speak out 
 I will ! — and I say it's atrocious, however it 
 may suit you to set up a pious prayer-meeting 
 face over it, just as if you never had heard 
 any thing which pleased you so delightfully, 
 my dear ! " 
 
 " My dear " lifted up her eyes in the most 
 dove-like way imaginable ; shutting her mouth 
 though, as one shuts a purse with a hard iron 
 snap. I saw her foot trembling under her broad 
 crape hem, but answer made she none to this 
 torrent of Mrs. Chidley's vituperation. ^'Mr. 
 Oliphant," was her only reply, " will you oblige 
 us by gomg on?" 
 
 The unready solicitor, not made readier 
 by the hurricane which had broken out so
 
 THE husband's kelations. 27 
 
 near him, proceeded to read the condition 
 annexed to Rosamond's heritage. If Mrs. 
 Westwood married again, her income was 
 immediately to be withheld by her trustees : 
 who had received sealed instructions how, in 
 case of such an event, to dispose of it. 
 
 "And what sort of sealed instructions, 
 pray ? " broke in the shrew, in a voice half 
 a tone shriller than before. " Sealed instruc- 
 tions, indeed ! Perhaps, Mrs. Eick, my dear ! 
 you will favour us with their contents. A 
 lady who can expound all the books of the 
 Kevelatlons, the nine vials, and the twelve 
 seals, and the Great Beast " — (I am afraid 
 Mrs. Chidley was not much of a reader of 
 her Bible) — '* can be at no loss to tell us what's 
 under the seal. Though doubtless, you don't 
 know, my dear ! — any more than ourselves — 
 and though of course you wererit consulted ; 
 nor you, Mr. Uliphant, sir ; nor you, Mr. 
 Bell, sir ! pray go on, the confederacy is 
 charmino 1 " 
 
 o 
 
 "Ma'am," said I, ^'Mr. Oliphant wishes to 
 go on : and we wish to hear him, if you would 
 allow us. Pray, reserve your remarks till the 
 close." 
 
 " And who are you, sir, pray, to cut me
 
 28 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 short? Mr. Westwood's sister — his favourite 
 sister ! I have a right to make as many re- 
 marks as I please, and I shall — and 1 will — and, 
 I will be called to account by nobody — and I 
 will not be trampled upon, so long as there 
 is law in the land, or a man in Liverpool (I 
 don't speak of the present company), to pro- 
 tect me ! " 
 
 I could now understand why Eosamond 
 had married, — and began absolutely to imagine 
 that that angry, red-faced woman would try 
 to do some of the party bodily mischief. But 
 at the last clause of her appeal Mrs. Chidley 
 broke out into a sob, the subsiding of which 
 gave the reader, who looked as impassive as 
 a sack of wool, an opportunity to proceed. Of 
 this he availed himself. We were subse- 
 quently informed how all the plate was left to 
 Eosamond, because it was eno;raved with her 
 cipher — add to which an ample sum of ready 
 money; also all the furniture of her own 
 two particular rooms — nothing else in the 
 house. Her husband's portrait in the draw- 
 ing-room was separately bequeathed to Mrs. 
 Eick. To me the whole document breath- 
 ed a strange tone of mingled retribution, 
 foresight — and tenderness.
 
 THE husband's RELATIONS. 29 
 
 You may be spared the rest of Mr. West- 
 wood's will, to which I gave Httle ear : being 
 impatient to speak to the poor widow, en- 
 dowed and insulted in one and the same 
 breath — and uncertain as to the manner in 
 which she would receive her new fortunes, or 
 as to the stability of character which she had 
 acquired during her married life. It would 
 not be easy to advise her — and how would she 
 rule herself? 
 
 It might be some augury of her relations 
 with me, that after the close of the reading a 
 tap on the door from Rosamond's maid 
 summoned me to her presence. — I found 
 my relative agitated, pale, and trembling. 
 '' You see my position, Cousin Bell," said 
 she. " Is it not a strange one ? Is it not a 
 sad one? I am virtually left alone in the 
 world ! " 
 
 There was no possibility just then of reply- 
 ing that riches would buy her friends — still 
 less of representing to her that there were 
 in the world such humble people as ourselves, 
 who had long been her friends already — 
 friends neither bouo;ht nor to he boudit. 
 
 '^And to be ill spoken of!" continued 
 fiosamond ; ''and to be insulted, to be followed
 
 30 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 with hatred because of this trashy money. 
 
 it is hideous ! hideous ! " 
 
 "Do not let your mind dwell upon such 
 things, my dear Mrs. Westwood. He who is 
 gone " — (I knew not how else to name her 
 dead husband) — "was well aware of the 
 tempers and dispositions of those whom he left 
 behind him ; and therefore, in his kind solici- 
 tude for you, placed your happiness and peace 
 beyond their control. i^obody has any 
 power to torment you. Yours is a strange 
 position, and your spirits are shaken : but 
 they will revive with time " — (1 was going to 
 say '^ soon," but bit the word off my tongue.) 
 '^Your happiest — perhaps youv hsupipiest days 
 are to come." 
 
 " Ah ! I do not think so — 1 ought not to 
 think so ! Don't mistake me, kind cousin ; 
 don't fancy me detestable enough to wish to 
 impose upon you by presenting myself as an 
 inconsolable widow. It is not so ! and I wanted 
 to say this to them. I must say it to you. 
 It is not so ! I am crushed, overwhelmed. 
 
 1 hate myself. I am distressed beyond what 
 can be told : but I will not be a hypocrite ! 
 It is not by his loss. It is by his munificence ! 
 and," she continued with increasing vehe-
 
 THE husband's KELATIOXS. 31 
 
 raence, " if I do not, if I cannot feel, and if I 
 will not pretend to feel, what one who has 
 loved devotedly should and must feel, am I 
 to blame ? Am I a wicked creature ? Am I 
 ungrateful ? If those people had treated me, 
 for his sake, with common forbearance — how 
 gladly, how humbly, w^ould I have begged 
 them to share all this money amona them, 
 and would have gone out again to work for 
 my livelihood ! " 
 
 " All, Eosamond ! you were always 
 Quixotic. What good would such a sacrifice 
 do you ? They do not need it." 
 
 ^* And they do not deserve it ! ^ov 
 would it, now, relieve my own mind — and I 
 ^ think the most of that So, let them speak of 
 me as they please — so let them spread it about 
 that I cajoled their brother's money out of 
 him : perhaps even shortened his days ! " 
 
 " Good heavens ! do not let your mind run 
 riot, among such terrible fancies ! Why 
 think of them at all ? You have kept apart 
 from them, and they from you. You will do 
 so still. He wished you should. He made 
 this provision expressly to enable you to do 
 so. But why should such considerations 
 occur to you on a day like this? —
 
 32 KOCCABELLA. 
 
 '' Should it not/' I said more gently, '^ be 
 devoted to other thoughts ? '' for in truth, 
 during all that sad scene — Eosaraond's share 
 of it included — nothing was sadder to me than 
 the haste with which the Dead had passed out 
 of memory and regret ! 
 
 '* You do not know," was her reply. " You 
 cannot imagine how I have been tormented, 
 from without and from within, or you would 
 wonder little at my state of mind. I . . . . 
 Hush ! there is some one at the door." She 
 rung the bell and her maid entered — " See 
 who it is, Nelkson," — making a mute gesture 
 to forbid my stirring, or taking any part. 
 
 A sweet voice in whispered parley with the 
 maid was heard. ^' Is not that Mrs. Eick ? " 
 said Eosamond in a tone the control of 
 which surprised me. " Pray, come in, 
 madam." 
 
 Libraries have been written on the arts and 
 airs of women as employed to subjugate men. 
 Who has enumerated one tithe of the devices 
 of woman bent on mortifying woman ? Who 
 has fathomed the length of her line, the wind- 
 ings of her web, in any case where antipathy 
 towards one of her own sex employs the con- 
 cealments or revelations, which are generally
 
 33 
 
 undertaken to subjugate the other one? 
 The sound of Mrs. Kick's small foot outside 
 the door charmed Rosamond's sincere aorita- 
 tation into a quietness, which would have 
 earned her the reputation of a consummate 
 actress with those who have never considered 
 that Woman's nature is changeful, and con- 
 stancy sometimes her art. The storm had 
 passed — and in place of the tossing waves 
 there was now only ice. 
 
 It was no easy matter to puzzle Mrs. 
 Rick, who generally saw clearly — howsoever 
 it might please her to speak dubiously, and to 
 work crookedly. The tract headed "Trials and 
 ^their Mission," which she carried in her 
 hand, like her look of blended solemnity, 
 sympathy, admonition, and resignation, were 
 but so many unimportant properties (as the 
 players say) of her craft ; — to be changed at a 
 moment's warninor for others, as the case 
 might call for. But to decide in what 
 manner she could bring herself to bear upon 
 the widow was less easy. How was she to 
 undo seven years' work? how to ascertain 
 the mood of one who sat in her chair tearless 
 as a statue, proud as a queen, polite as a 
 court lady ? To fix herself upon Rosamond's 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 four thousand a-year was Mrs. Eick resolved : 
 and, to the credit of her decision, such resolu- 
 tion had come simultaneously with the 
 announcement of the legacy ; yet she was 
 not sure that she was right in her first step — 
 in this immediate claim for a conference, 
 which was so mechanically admitted. — 'No 
 suitable text presented itself by way of open- 
 ing; she remembered that quotations of 
 Scripture had always made Eosamond stony. 
 " I feel a difficulty," began Mrs. Eick in a 
 hesitating voice — "as if I was an intruder upon 
 you, my dear Mrs. Westwood ; . . . yet I could 
 not leave this house till I had expressed to 
 you, before jour friend and counsellor " — Mrs, 
 Rick's tone on those words was modulated 
 with wondrous nicety — '^ my disapproval of 
 our unhappy sister's manner of proceeding 
 and of expressing herself! " 
 
 " There was no occasion for explanation," 
 replied Eosamond quietly. " I cannot sup- 
 pose that one person necessarily influences a 
 family; and let me say, any thing like peace 
 with Mr. Westwood's relations must be even 
 mqre my wish than their 's. — Thank you for 
 coming up, if to make peace you come." 
 
 Mrs. Eick offered no answer till she had
 
 THE husband's RELATIONS. 35 
 
 tried for a tear, and got the same accomplished. 
 " Such is indeed mj wish, sister ! " was her 
 honeyed response. ^' We have all much, too 
 much, to reproach our poor humanity with ! 
 I have not done what I might, or ought^ as 
 regards you — I am sorry for it." 
 
 Poor Eosamond ! if she could have accom- 
 plished a tear then, by way of rejoinder, the 
 effect would have be5n capital, and sisterly. 
 But she could only bow ; — for she sickened at 
 the falsity of this fawning speech, and was 
 too truthful to pretend even to act a part 
 in the desired scene, for appearance's sake. 
 Her sister-in-law was alive to the check. 
 Immediate penitence and tenderness, then, 
 were not the mood, it was clear. What 
 should she try ? 
 
 " You must have been surprised at my 
 dear brother's disposition of his property," 
 was Mrs. Kick's next venture. 
 
 " I am not!" replied the widow. " Your 
 brother consulted me on the subject some 
 weeks ago ; and totally declined to listen to 
 my remonstrances against such unparalleled 
 and unmerited generosity." 
 
 " ! " with a due look of admiration, and 
 another tear — exclaimed the sweet-voiced
 
 86 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 lady. Mrs. Eick was too clever a woman not 
 to believe Eosamond, but never had sbe 
 loved lier less than at that moment — * 
 ** ! his confidence in those he loved was 
 child-like; — and he knew well whom he had 
 to deal with." 
 
 " No, truly, he did not, !" replied the other, 
 sharpened by this indelicacy in pursuit of a 
 subject so delicate, — "if you mean me ! ]^or 
 did I know myself till to-day. I never 
 conceived it possible that I could accept so 
 heavy an obligation, l^ow I feel it my duty 
 to employ this wealth of his for honourable, 
 generous purposes; and accordingly I have 
 yielded up my inchnations to reject his legacy, 
 — and will submit to be humbled." 
 
 Thoughts of Mrs* Kick's father-confessor 
 — the Eeverend Mr. Caleb Wheazeley — 
 crossed that lady's mind. "What if Eosamond 
 were taking a Dorcas fit, when might he be 
 brought forward ? But no : Mrs. Eick was 
 a clever woman. She knew such a change 
 
 o 
 
 could not have taken place, at least so 
 suddenly — but she sighed all the same — and 
 dropped a few manna-like commonplaces, 
 on " the duty and the privilege, and the 
 blessing of improving our time in holy and
 
 THE husband's RELATIONS. 37 
 
 charitable actions, — although poor works, it 
 is true," &c., &c. ... By those who excuse 
 theology in novels, my abbreviation will be 
 felt as welcome. 
 
 " But," continued the manoeuvrer, *^ you 
 have at least considered the future, I trust, my 
 dear sister — so far as to have decided on some 
 plan — let me hope, for your own sake, not 
 that of livino: alone." 
 
 " I have decided on nothing, Mrs. Kick, 
 save immediate change of residence. I have 
 never hked this place ; the air disagrees with 
 me — I have no friends here. To-morrow . . 
 , • . but I shall finally settle myself in or 
 near London." 
 
 Another shock to Mrs. Rick, who had that 
 strange jealousy and awe of all belonging to 
 Babylon, which people so eminently provin- 
 cial as herself rarely fail to possess ! — Those 
 few words showed her how soon and irreco- 
 verably Rosamond's thousands a-year would 
 be out of her reach. — One solitary chance 
 remained to her : " Then, if you have not 
 fixed upon a companion, my dear sister, 
 surely I could be of some little use ; could I 
 not ? — There must be inquiries to be made ; 
 there must be valuable persons in abundance
 
 $S ROCCABELLA. 
 
 to whom a position near you would be sicck a 
 blessing ! " 
 
 " I wish I thought I could make it so," said 
 Eosamond, in a less constrained voice ; — with 
 a sigh of retrospection and of conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 " I wish, then/' continued Mrs. Eick, em- 
 boldened by this momentary thaw, " that I 
 might mention to you the case of Miss 
 Dillington, the daughter of Mrs. Seth 
 Dillington; the sweetest character I have 
 ever known, and who has borne her reverses 
 in such a truly Christian spirit ! — You must 
 have seen her at my house. Once, I know^ 
 she was coming when you were to be there. 
 If you are not already decided, do let me 
 interest you for Miss Dillington. She will 
 look up to you so." 
 
 "I have decided," replied Eosamond 
 colouring, and resuming her haughty and 
 constrained tone, " so far as this ; — that no 
 one having connections in Liverpool would be 
 agreeable to me as a companion. But forgive 
 me, Mrs. Eick, for declining to enter upon 
 these subjects to-day. — Before the dead are 
 well buried out of our sight, there is some- 
 thing to me strangely heartless and painful
 
 THE husband's RELATIONS. 39^ 
 
 in scheming, and managing, and settling 
 business. Mv cousin's time here is valuable, 
 and this is my excuse for troubling him; — 
 otherwise I would gladly have passed the few 
 first hours of my widowhood in quietness." 
 
 Mrs. Rick made no reply save by her 
 handkerchief. Business being declined, per- 
 haps it might not be altogether amiss to out- 
 grieve the widow. — The sister's little sobs were 
 very moving ; and I found it hard to believe 
 her the false woman which I had been told 
 she was. '*Ah, indeed!" she got out; ^^it 
 is a loss for all of us, and I don't wonder 
 to see you overcome. But we must bear up 
 till we meet him again, and never forget that 
 the arrow of suffering may be wreathed 
 with the balsam of healing, if we receive 
 chastisement in a right spirit." 
 
 From this second-hand consolation, one of 
 Mr. Wheazeley's stock-pieces, and the fawn- 
 ing hand of the excellent woman laid upon 
 her arm, Rosamond withdrew with a decision 
 which 1 own seemed to me tinctured with 
 sternness. On this Mrs. Rick, finding that she 
 took little by sobbing without an assistant, 
 wiped her eyes, tied her bonnet-strings, and 
 got up from her chair. " There is nothing,
 
 40 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 then, dear sister, that you will allow me to do 
 for you?" 
 
 *' ISTothing, tliank you ! " was Rosamond's 
 answer; "there is little in truth to be done, — 
 and for the moment I feel that rest and 
 silence are the most necessary to me. For all 
 friendly intentions, believe me, I am sincerely 
 grateful. Cousin, Mrs. Rick is going : will 
 you see her to her carriage ? and then come 
 back to me, if you will be so kind." And 
 thus the two parted. 
 
 As we went down-stairs, my disposition 
 towards sympathy for Mr. Westwood's sob- 
 bing sister underwent mitigations. — Right, 
 left, up, down, darted the eyes of Mrs. Rick. 
 Two doors did she open, under pretext of 
 their being the front door : and she murmur-f 
 ed to herself, " An excellent house ! " in a very 
 mundane tone, which either meant to convey 
 to me that I was a Nobody, whose esteem was 
 not worth conciliating — or else was an invo- 
 luntary outbreak, in innocent pride of heart. 
 And I never heard woman rate a servant so 
 mercilessly as Mrs. Rick, while scolding her 
 huge, red-cheeked clod of a footman, for hav-^ 
 ing forgotten her carriage boots. 
 
 " And that woman's brother was gone out
 
 THE husband's RELATIONS. 41 
 
 of the house to be buried to-day ! " said I 
 to myself, looking after Mrs. Rick's mildew- 
 green chaise, with her metallic and distinct 
 voice ringing in my ears. Slowly did I mount 
 the stairs again, pondering many things : — 
 what, for instance, the world would have had to 
 say touching the two women whose curious 
 interview I had witnessed, when my further 
 passage upward w^as arrested. It was by Mrs. 
 Nelkson, Rosamond's maid and factotum, 
 a huge woman tightly cased in sables, who 
 had always an ill-used face, and an oppressive 
 command of grand words. 
 
 " My mistress presents her kindest regards, 
 > Mr. Bell, sir," said the Abigail, '^ and w^ould 
 you excuse coming up to animadvert with 
 her again to-day. — She has just been in 
 ecstasies, and thinks she shall be the better, 
 sir, for a little sleep,- — and seeing no company 
 more sir."
 
 42 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE COMPANION. 
 
 Such were the leave-takings betwixt 
 Rosamond and her husband's relations : such 
 was her farewell to the home of her married 
 life. On the failure of Mrs. Eick's attempt 
 " to make peace " (as she called it), that 
 Christian woman joined with the worldly 
 Mrs. Chidley, in maintaining their rights, 
 without the slightest pretext at grief for the 
 deceased, or of consideration for his relict. The 
 latter was apprized, within four-and- twenty 
 hours after the scene which I had witnessed, 
 that she was no longer in her own house. 
 Proper persons were put in with a view to 
 preventing removal of an iota of property 
 beyond that which was bequeathed in the 
 precise will of Mr. Westwood. These folk 
 in possession had much to tell Mrs. Nelkson, 
 concerning the violence and pertinacity with
 
 THE CX)MP ANION. 43 
 
 which the hot and cold sister wrangled over 
 the division of their share of the spoil. But 
 Kosamond had long taught her Abigail to 
 refrain from fetching or carrying gossip : and, 
 though she was above the reach of such petty 
 mortification or triumph, as the tale might 
 have inflicted, she now reaped the reward 
 of the prohibition, in going forth undisturbed 
 by any minute knowledge of or contact with, 
 such miserable proceedings. 
 
 There can be small question as to the 
 acrimony with which (as my wife grotesquely 
 put it) Rosamond's first step of independent 
 action was "welcomed" by them. — How 
 ^ was such an ofience to be forgiven, as her 
 "taking up" with Manchester, after her 
 contempt of Liverpool ? — and choosing 
 for her sole associates and counsellors the 
 family of a. manufacturer's poor book- 
 keeper, — when the ladies of two first-class 
 merchants were not found sufiiciently high- 
 flown and aristocratic to content her?. 
 Yet the widow's first move was abso- 
 lutely to Mrs. Darby's first-floor, ^o. 80, 
 Halcyon Eow. — She declared that she made 
 the move to be near us. — And near us 
 Rosamond abode all the winter, and far
 
 44 KOCCABELLA. 
 
 into the next year; though we knew that 
 this was but a temporary measure ; — a rest 
 during the first period of her deep mourning, 
 while she was making up her plans. Her 
 sisters-in-law did not know this ; still less 
 could any power on earth have made them 
 conceive how exhausting, not to say un- 
 desirable, proved to be the widow's neigh- 
 bourhood : because I do suppose that with 
 themselves money was the first, second, and 
 third consideration, — besides, they were too 
 old, as some one put it quaintly, " to profit 
 by bad example." 
 
 With ourselves matters were otherwise. 
 Riches have never been our first object. — We 
 had young folks growing up round us; and 
 Rosamond's presence in a quiet family, 
 brought up on moderate expectations and in 
 industrious habits, could hardly be otherwise 
 than troubling. She proved as affectionate 
 but as petulant also as a child — as munificent 
 Jis a fairy; till it became needful to check 
 this. — She was fond of startling ideas and 
 ^.udacious paradoxes; she loved talking, 
 my Mrs. Bell assured her, for talking's 
 sake ; and of expressing herself in disparage- 
 ment of that quiet middle-class life which
 
 THE COMPANION. 45 
 
 average men and women must prepare to 
 lead. This she called the 
 
 " Waveless calm, the slumber of the dead." 
 
 She writhed under the social injustice which 
 she saw around her, and some of which, too, 
 she had felt : — but no, she would not own that 
 even she had felt it — she had always, she 
 now thought, risen above it. She would like to 
 have a wand — and wings. 
 
 " Why, you have both already ! " observed 
 a quiet low-toned voice from the corner, 
 where our third daughter (a particularly 
 demure person, and small for her age) sat 
 knitting. " Why, you have both ; for you 
 possess wealth and genius.'* 
 
 We started — my wife and I. This was 
 the first time that Martha had ever been 
 heard to take a flight of the kind; and it 
 seemed an involuntary one — a piece of 
 thinking aloud : for after she had spoken, 
 fast shut to her mouth again, and she 
 resumed her needles, just as busily as if she 
 had not come out with a saying so unex- 
 pected; and, on the whole, a neat saying. 
 
 "Ah! Rosarac^ ^ vou might have enougfh 
 of your rod and your feathers, and sooner than
 
 46 . KOCCABELLA. 
 
 you tlilnk "—was my good woman's answer. 
 " Power would be all well and good, if there 
 were not such things as expectations, which 
 one is expected to satisfy when one has the 
 power." 
 
 "Expected! But why should any one 
 expect any thing from me ! — Or what ? The 
 more that people expected, the less I should 
 do ! — Ah ! don't shake your head, and purse 
 up your mouth, cousin. I would make it 
 up in such surprises. I should take such a 
 delight in finding out what every body I 
 loved wanted, and in giving it them just at 
 the right moment. And how I would punish 
 foolish, wicked, hypocritical people — your 
 proper pattern women — who are always ex- 
 horting, and exacting — always hating, and 
 tormenting others, and pampering themselves 
 with their own miserable pleasures — while 
 they are always pretending to be so terrided at 
 every thing that is conspicuous,^^ 
 
 I was truly glad that my children did 
 not know that Rosamond here imitated 
 Mrs. Eick's tone — nor did she herself. The 
 mimickry was unconscious. — "Tes," con- 
 tinued she, warming, ^' What is there that 
 a woman could not do, if she would — sup-
 
 THE COMPANION-, 47 
 
 posing she had only half the privileges 
 of men? Think, for instance, among our 
 
 own sex, how" The knitter here 
 
 stopped for a moment, in breathless attention. 
 
 *^Now, Mrs. Westwood," interrupted my 
 wife, who had no particular desire that her 
 daughters should enter into our guest's 
 romantic views about women — " there, you 
 know, we cannot soar after you. We have 
 no wings, dear ! And I only pray and trust 
 that your enthusiastic temper may not bring 
 its own sorrow and disappointment with it : 
 for I am sure your objects will be generous 
 and noble. In the meanwhile, suppose we 
 drop to common earth — not to what 
 woman could do, but to what you, being a 
 woman, will do. Are you really satisfied about 
 this London scheme of yours, and do you 
 mean to pursue it ? or have you contrived 
 something else?" 
 
 ^' You want to get quit of me out of 
 Halcyon Row," was the widow's half-sad, 
 half-sprightly reply. "An idle, wayward 
 creature, with no ties and no duties, is a sad 
 tax upon every body, I know ! Why should 
 such as we cumber the ground ? Yes : 
 I will try London for a year or two ; and, if
 
 48 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 London will not do, — Paris or ISTaples* 
 I have an idea that I should dehght in 
 Naples. Eome must be melancholy — and 
 IS too learned for me, at least until I have 
 read and studied a great deal. Yes : l^aples! 
 The very first thing vrhich I shall do when I 
 get to London, will be to take an Italian 
 master." 
 
 ** An Italian !.....! hope not before 
 you have suited yourself with a companion," 
 was the reply of my wife, — whom I have 
 always accused of taking her notions of 
 Italians from Mrs. Eadchffe's romances — and 
 who is a trifle prudish to boot. 
 
 " '^o — you good, prudent, proper woman! ^' 
 said Rosamond. "]^ot before every pro- 
 priety has been satisfactorily considered ! 
 I am suited. That was one of my particular 
 views in coming to be near you for awhile. 
 Why, you think that I shall never do any 
 thing useful or practical — or make myself 
 into a woman of business. Quite wrong, you 
 are, cousin ! I am suited, and " (an exquisite 
 expression of pleasure burst into her face 
 as she spoke, with the tears into her eyes) ; 
 " there sits my companion — your Martha ! " 
 The shawl and its knitting-needles
 
 THE compaMon. 49 
 
 dropped on the floor from my little daughter's 
 hands. 
 
 " jN'on sense, my dear, foolish, thoughtless 
 Rose!" cried my wife, not believing the 
 widow to be in earnest.—" It is no joke 
 teaching poor folk, such as we are, to build 
 air-castles. Our Martha there says little; but 
 she has a long memory — and a brain, as she 
 knows well, which I don't think it would be 
 hard to turn ! — Pray " . . . . 
 
 " I know — I know ! " ran on Rosamond, 
 full of her own kindly scheme. " And that 
 is just why I will carry your Martha off with 
 me, to turn her brain properly. — A quadri- 
 ^ lateral woman you will never make your 
 Martha, Mrs. Bell ; plane, pinch, and polish 
 her as much as you please ! She shall come 
 with me — she shall be my diaper one and 
 care-taker. She shall be my sister; and I 
 will provide for her." 
 
 O could only Mrs. James Rick have heard 
 the proposal ! But there are such things as 
 wasted punishments, as well as disregarded 
 blessings. — Mrs. West wood's sister-in-law 
 would at once have been aware that Rosa- 
 mond was in earnest; the flutter of her 
 manner merely arising from the difficulty 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 which she felt in announcing her intention, 
 so as to represent herself in the light of the 
 obliged party. — Yet my wife still regarded 
 the scheme as a flight: and was, thereby, 
 made more displeased than grateful. 
 
 *^Dear Rosamond, you are a kind hare- 
 brained creature ! But you should reflect a 
 little upon consequences. Girls are so easily 
 unsettled : and, though we have every con- 
 fidence in our Martha, we must not have her 
 tried out of reason." 
 
 " But I am not trying — I am not un- 
 settling," replied Rosamond, becoming more 
 and more eager. "I am settling, cousin ; 
 settling for ever and a day. Surely you 
 can't think me so giddy, so unfeeling ! Surely 
 .... cannot you see that I mean seriously 
 what I say ? " 
 
 We looked across to our demure little 
 daughter. She, at all events, was well con- 
 vinced that Mrs. Westwood was not joking. 
 Her glance of appeal towards her mother 
 and myself made the matter serious. 
 
 " You are in earnest ? " at length my wife 
 brought out. 
 
 ^' Truly I am ! I will provide for Martha ; 
 if she is wilHng to trust herself with me."
 
 THE COMPANIOX. 51 
 
 I felt that the mother had tTie right first to 
 speak, when the happiness of her daughter 
 was in question — yet I knew that I must 
 have the last word. Martha was our favourite 
 child ; though we never mentioned such a fact 
 to the others. 
 
 My wife became almost ashey white with 
 excitement. " Then, if you really are in 
 earnest, Rosamond ! " she began, " Paul and 
 I can only thank you ; — and thank you most 
 kindly, for your generous intentions, while " — 
 
 "Mrs. Bell," put in the husband, "surely 
 you and I must talk this matter over, be- 
 fore "— 
 
 " After, as much as you please, my dear, 
 if you shortly come to a conclusion different 
 from mine. — But first thoughts are best ; and 
 I wish my child to hear her mother say, from 
 the first moment, eagerly, and earnestly, and 
 solemnly ; — that this cannot be. We must not 
 part with her, even to you, dear Rosamond ! 
 We could, were it for her happiness — we 
 would, whatever it cost any of us ! But this, 
 I am persuaded, would be for the happi- 
 ness of nobody. ]N^ow speak, Mr. Bell — now, 
 my dear ! " 
 
 I confess I was surprised at my wife, though 
 
 UBRAR? ---- 
 
 UNivERsrrv or auMK*
 
 52 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 I ought to have known her imworldllness 
 as well as her prudence ; so often and so 
 anxiously, when we lay awake at night, had 
 we talked over the portionless estate of our 
 daughters, and especially of this particular 
 Martha ! 
 
 " My love," was my answer, " I have no- 
 thing to add but to express my entire agree- 
 ment in what you have said. — Our dear child 
 knows well, I trust, that you would never 
 stand in the way of her happiness." 
 
 " but, mother! " cried the girl, rising from 
 her chair, her cheeks glowing like fire, '' be- 
 fore we decide " 
 
 " In an instant, darling — but hear what I 
 have to say first. Rosamond, you are a good, 
 grateful, generous being, my child, if ever 
 there was one ! And you know how I thank 
 you, as much as if I could tell you ; — and you 
 know that it is not pride with me — and you 
 know that it is not selfishness which prevents 
 my accepting your offer, I hope. — '^o, I am 
 sure it is not ! But, were you to take our 
 Martha, as you kindly propose, what would 
 come of it ? Why, listen ; you want to wan- 
 der about the world, and to try experiments 
 as you call it, — and about these, Mr. Bell and
 
 THE COMPANION. 53 
 
 I should have something to say, if she was to 
 make one of the party. But, bless you, my 
 dear child — that won't last— take my word for 
 it. Six months it won't last ; even supposing 
 that we aorreed about its beinor a traininor fit 
 for the life which our child is to lead. You 
 will have other occupations, other interests. 
 Tou must not trammel yourself. You may 
 marry again — you will ! Don't think me 
 coarse for saying so ! " 
 
 The widow grew angry, very angry. It be- 
 came difficult for us to explain — though it was 
 not difficult for us to comprehend, why that 
 suggestion was one which she had a particu- 
 lar objection to entertaining. But my wife — 
 surprised, let me add, by the suddenness of 
 Rosamond's proposition — at once felt that en- 
 tertained it must not be ; and that we owed 
 it to our child to shew her a orood reason for 
 instantaneous and final refusal. We had con- 
 fidence in Martha's sense : here, however, was 
 a temptation, and there were reasons amongst 
 us why resistance to it was particularly neces- 
 sary at that particular time. But Rosamond 
 just then could — would — ^only see her imme- 
 diate object; so she became much excited, 
 to the point of saying injurious things respect-
 
 54 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 ing parents who stood in the way of their 
 children's prospects. 
 
 " Stop, my dear/' interrupted my Mrs. 
 Bell, '^ before you quite hate us ! You know 
 there is something else — ^you forget Martha's 
 position with respect to Louis." 
 
 " Louis — I thought we should come to that ! 
 Louis, indeed ! A precious objection ! And 
 so, in order that you may tie your child, hand 
 and foot for life, to a mere commonplace 
 country parson, you reject an offer which 
 
 at least Grreat parental kindness, 
 
 truly ! But '' — her breast heaving as she went 
 on — *' I can speak, if ever woman could, of the 
 guilt, of the wretchedness, of mistaken mar- 
 riages. Yes, give your child to one who does 
 not understand her, in place of giving her to 
 me : and see what will come of it ! If she have 
 a life of misery, you are answerable for it !" 
 
 "You are not fair, Rosamond," replied 
 my wife, kindling a very little. " I^or are the 
 cases parallel. We do not wish our child 
 to be rich ; we do not pretend to screen her 
 from the cares of hfe which her parents have 
 enjoyed before her ! " 
 
 ""Enjoyed!" 
 
 " Only a slip of the tongue — and therefore
 
 THE COMPANION. 55 
 
 we do not object to her early marriage, which 
 many people would fancy romantic enough, 
 since the two, God knows, won't be overbur- 
 dened with wealth. But we wish her to be 
 healthy and happy. My love," turning to 
 her dauofhter, "vour father and I have the 
 
 o 
 
 your 
 
 fullest trust in you. But this is a matter in 
 which, supposing your feelings were to differ 
 from ours, we must overrule you. One day 
 you — ay, and you, too, Rosamond — will own 
 that we have done right ; and meanwhile we 
 shall thank you all our lives long." 
 
 "Have you nothing to say for yourself? " 
 said Rosamond, turning to our daughter, with 
 the least possible accent of scorn in her voice. 
 It might be that the accent was not lost on 
 the girl; — since she merely bowed, (having 
 already become more fiercely red when Louis 
 was spoken of,) and replied with a great ef- 
 fort, ^' ^0, nothing . . . Thank you kindly, 
 for thinking of me ! ... But my father . . . 
 my mother . . . and " 
 
 "Then," cried Rosamond with a burst of 
 irritability which was almost passionate, " my 
 staying here another day is useless ! — My ex- 
 ample shall not injure your quiet household 
 any longer .... Perhaps you are right,
 
 55 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 however, all things considered. I shall go up 
 to London to-morrow, alone " . . • and she 
 foroed a laugh as she added — *^to seek my 
 destiny alone; — sinee you all fling me off! " 
 
 We never liked to remember that last 
 speech of hers, unreasonable as it was. Words 
 *^ break no bones/' it is true ; but words can 
 make pretty deep furrows of their own : — fur- 
 rows of which deeds that come after remind 
 poor folks many a time and oft.
 
 FIRST HOUES IN LONDON. 57 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 KEST HOURS IN LONDON, 
 
 If there ever existed woman, young, beau- 
 tiful and rich, who arrived in London for the 
 first time since her infancy, without a tumult 
 of expectations hope and excitement too subtle 
 to be analysed, and yet almost too strong 
 Ao be borne with composure — that woman was 
 at least not Rosamond Westwood. On the 
 other hand, Nelkson, her maid, was disposed 
 to be rather more than usually philosophical 
 and dreary on the occasion — as they drove 
 through one brilliantly lighted street after 
 another, towards the Beaufort Hotel. 
 
 " Really, me'm, this is what may be called 
 an inclement reception ; — when a May night 
 goes on pouring with rain and blowing with 
 wind enough to drive a hurricane, exactly as 
 if it was Januai-y ! Pray, let me put my 
 shawl about your feet, me'm, since we are
 
 5S ROCCABELLA. 
 
 never to get there. You are quite in a 
 paralysis with cold ; — trembling and talking 
 to yourself, exactly as if 'twas Christmas ! " 
 
 " Thank you — ^yes — I daresay I shall be 
 quite well to-morrow : after a good night's 
 rest ! " . . And away Rosamond's thoughts 
 floated — away along the stream of fancy, fast 
 and far out of the waiting- woman's reach. 
 
 " 'Tis, after all, what I call dissolute work," 
 resumed the Abigail — " two pensive and un- 
 protected women — though I hope I am able to 
 take care of any ten ladies and myself likewise 
 — getting to a strange London hotel as late as 
 this on a dripping evening, and not a soul to 
 meet them. — Mr. Blosse was very urgent 
 with me, me'm, to persuade you, before 
 we left, to bring up a male attendant with 
 you — as if such inconsistent ways as his was 
 fit to be made a show of; — let alone protect- 
 ing any body in these fine London streets 
 of theirs one has heard so much about." 
 
 " This is beginning life again," said Rosa- 
 mond, continuing to think aloud. 
 
 " Certainly, me'm ; but it is an old be- 
 ginning for a person of my age. A twelve- 
 month ago, if any one had displayed me 
 triumphing through the streets of London,
 
 FIRST HOURS IN LONDON. 59 
 
 I should have answered without stipulation, 
 * That's not the Anne Nelkson that I was 
 brought up with.' But we see what we must 
 see, and we go where we must go, and that's 
 just it. — Here we- are, it seems ! " 
 
 And with these words the sentimental, 
 novel-reading confidante^ not past an attach- 
 ment of her own, vanished as completely as 
 a person in a drama disappears from the 
 stage — and in her place appeared a vigilant 
 bustling w^oman of thirty-five; — a woman 
 sharp at settling with a post-boy, numerical- 
 ly accurate as to boxes, bags and baskets ; and 
 exigent (not to say abusive) in commanding 
 ► the host of civil waiters who ran to and fro, 
 around the interesting widow : — for Nelk son's 
 first cries demanded brandy, tea — any thing 
 warm which they had ready, that very in- 
 stant ; hot water, French mattresses, a person 
 competent to carry a message, and to run 
 across London luhen her mistress loantedhim — 
 the address of the nearest medical man there 
 and then ; and — a fire. 
 
 Yes, of course, a fire should be lighted 
 in Mrs. Vestwood's sitting-room directly; 
 but the chimney might smoke for ten 
 minutes at first, it was feared. Would the
 
 60 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 lady mind stepping into another apartment 
 for a quarter of an hour, till every thing in 
 her own room was made comfortable ? 
 
 Ilosamond mind ! — she had stepped far 
 enough thence amongst her air-castles and 
 Spanish chateaux — innocent of the slightest 
 cognizance of the frantic and contradictory 
 orders, discharged in irregular volley, by 
 her maid, with the view of substantiating 
 " her lady's " fastidiousness and consequence. 
 In a dream, our heroine followed where she 
 was led ; sate down, threw off her bonnet — 
 a little bewildered, and entirely engrossed: 
 thankful to be relieved from the storm of 
 tongues which had raged in the hall and on 
 the staircase. 
 
 Truth to say, Eosamond was oppressed, 
 more perhaps than she knew — far more than 
 she would have owned — by the sense of her 
 isolation. — She was in London; literally 
 without possessing a solitary acquaintance, 
 not to say friend ; and she was bodily very 
 much tired. At that moment gladly would 
 she have resigned all her money to any one 
 on whose shoulder she could have laid her 
 throbbing head, while she wept like a child! 
 She had no fears for her future : but her
 
 FIRST HOURS IN^ LONDON. 61 
 
 present now was sufficiently desolate. Mr. 
 Oliphant had fortified her with a letter to 
 his correspondents in to\vn — Messrs Grange- 
 ley and Bessell ; but Rosamond did not stand 
 in need of legal assistance. Mrs. James 
 Rick, who had ferreted out the fact, that 
 her brother s widow had left Halcyon Row 
 without bearing off a companion thence, had 
 pursued her with an epistle, all milk and 
 honey, enclosing a sealed note of introduction 
 to Mrs. Bartholomew Nagle of Blandford 
 Square, " a person of great sweetness and 
 spiritual refinement ; " but the widow felt her 
 sister-in-law's civility as merely a desperate 
 and final expedient to keep some hold upon 
 her. She had an idea what manner of woman 
 such a Mrs. Nagle must be. How long she 
 should stay in that hotel — whether she 
 should walk or drive on the morrow — when 
 she should make any friends (the inex- 
 perienced never care for nor calculate upon 
 acquaintanceship, with its uses and exemp- 
 tions) — what she was first to do — all these 
 things rose up before the solitary lady with 
 a confusing importunity, in the trouble of 
 which there was weariness of body, as well as 
 fear of mind. The lights in the street without
 
 62 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 (for she had declined candles) recalled to 
 her that IN'ovember day, on which her escape 
 from the thraldom of married life and its 
 terrorSjhad opened themselves before her. She 
 could already think of her uncouth, provin- 
 cial, limited husband, as of the one who had 
 really cared for her comfort, and for whose 
 comfort she had cared not at all. There was 
 the inexperience of a child — there were the 
 passions of a woman — there was that unsatis- 
 fied craving which more or less besets every 
 creature having the least spark whatsoever 
 of the poet in his composition. — She was 
 out of her old life — not in her new one. 
 All was a mystery, an entanglement, utter 
 chaos 
 
 The step close behind Kosamond's chair was 
 welcome, because it startled her from her 
 dream : and though the " Bless me ! what 
 have we got here ? " which followed, was in 
 the voice of a gentleman ; and, what was 
 worse, in the bold, blithe voice of man who 
 might merely be at considerable peace with 
 himself, — but who might, also, have been 
 recently " keeping out the chill " with wine, 
 — to judge from its tones. 
 
 The speaker wore a fine silk handkerchief
 
 FIRST HOURS IN LONDON. 63 
 
 of many colours round his throat. On his 
 head was a hat streaming with rain, and in 
 his hand was a candle, by aid of which two of 
 the most jocund eyes that ever gHstened in 
 human forehead took a quick observation of 
 the widow. Not only was Kosamond's bonnet 
 thrown down on the floor beside her, but in 
 her reverie, her cap had slipped from her 
 head, and her rich chestnut brown hair was 
 in some disorder. By way of background 
 to the new-comer, — who began to lay by the 
 hat and shawl aforesaid, also a saturated pea- 
 coat, talking volubly all the time, — were two 
 or three waiters, and a valet among them, — 
 > explaining and protesting that the lady had 
 been merely shown into his room just for a 
 moment, until the fire in her own ceased to 
 smoke. They were very sorry — they had no 
 idea he would be in town that night. 
 
 " I am truly glad you had not," was the 
 gallant reply, "since it has procured my 
 room the honour of such a visit. — A fire, I 
 think I heard! Ma'am, you are more sensi- 
 ble than the generality of English people, who 
 treat cold and hot just as if they were Good 
 Friday and Christmas Day — things settled by 
 act of parliament, and who can't conceive why
 
 64 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 one may wish to shiver at midsuraraer. By 
 your leave, madam, as I happen to be one of the 
 chilly mortals, and am thoroughly wet with 
 coming from Richmond in an open carriage, 
 I will sit by your fire till I can establish one 
 of my own. Light, order a fire for me here 
 immediately ! Here's your maid, madam, 
 who can give a good account of yours, I perceive 
 
 by her face Here's your mistress's bonnet, 
 
 and here's her shawl — and here's my arm, 
 madam ; Pray do me the honour . . . Which 
 way, waiter ? " 
 
 " Well, to be sure," said Nelkson, mecha- 
 nically taking up the wearables, and following 
 Rosamond and her audacious escort, " if we 
 have not got impudence and fluency here 
 by the score, I am a deaf mute! — I should not 
 like to have to make head against that 
 gentleman — ^let alone a lonely, abstracted 
 creature like my lady. And his man's another 
 such, or Nelkson begins with an ^0.' " 
 
 The Abigail was like other Abigails, when 
 surprised, half right. Fluency there was in 
 no moderate dispensation ; but impudence, 
 hardly; — else must Rosamond, refined as she 
 was, have instinctively recoiled from her self- 
 introduced acquaintance, who escorted her
 
 FIRST HOUES IN LONDON. 65 
 
 to her own parlour, sate down and warmed 
 his hands,* talking all the time, and making 
 revelations of which our heroine did not hear 
 — nor her confidante miss — a single word. 
 
 " Quite true, madam :— we seem entirely 
 agreed on this point. When I am down at 
 Shepherdston, in July, which is not often — I 
 am Shepherd of Shepherdston, in Derbyshire, 
 madam— I have fires made regularly every 
 evening and in every room ; — but I always 
 open the windows to promote the circulation 
 of air. In our climate there is no dispensing 
 with artificial heat. What a day for you, 
 this, to make a journey upon! " 
 
 " Sir ! " replied Rosamond, bewildered at 
 such a flow of language. . . . "Xelkson!" 
 " I am here, me'm," was the faithful-to- 
 death answer. " Did you call ? " 
 
 "For tea, I dare say?" took up the wi- 
 dow's wondrous new acquaintance. "After a 
 drive on a bad day, I know nothing so 
 refreshing as tea. Pray, let me ring; we 
 men indulge on such occasions— but I don't 
 smoke ('tis a nasty habit), and your smoker 
 always wants his brandy and water after his 
 cigar — so I prefer sherry ; — but to-night 
 I shall take tea, too. Waiter, tea for two ! '* 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 ^' But, sir, " interposed Eosamond, 
 
 opening her large beautiful eyes in unaffected 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Why, if you wish to turn me away from 
 your fire," pursued the buoyant Mr. Shep- 
 herd, "say so at once, and I am gone. Cold I 
 may be, and damp I was j ust now ; but I 
 never take a liberty with a lady. 'Twas my 
 father's maxim before mine. ' Gervase,' my 
 governor used to say to me, when I was no 
 higher than his knee, ' make love to as many 
 women as you please — but make love like a 
 gentleman. IsTever be forward ; and, accord- 
 ingly, forward I never am — A screen you 
 wanted, ma'am ? Pray, let me ring — Waiter, 
 a screen ! " 
 
 The waiter brought in a screen ; but he 
 brought the tea-tray also, and with the tea- 
 tray two cups. Matters were growing 
 serious, and Rosamond was wakened up by 
 the continuous eloquence of her guest to a 
 point of consciousness, at which she felt that 
 matters were growing disagreeable also, and 
 that she had better cut them short. Alas ! 
 she was not the least in the world of a 
 coquette, and could not get beyond the 
 matter of fact, and practical inquiry, "Will
 
 FIRST HOURS IN LONDON. 67 
 
 you see if the fire in that — in Mr. Shepherd's 
 room, has burnt up ! " 
 
 " That's to say, ma'ara, that you would 
 prefer to take your tea alone — Natural, per- 
 fectly natural ; after a long drive one is 
 jarred and shaken — not disposed to talk. 
 Pray, don't fancy that I want to wear you 
 out, ma'am — I am sure that my fire is as well 
 as I could wish it — once being transported 
 from better company to my own, — and I am 
 quite dry. Ma'am, I have the honour to Avish 
 you a good night's rest." 
 
 And, with a vivacious little bow, the 
 strange man vanished. 
 
 " Well, I'm sure ! " was the exclamation 
 of Nelkson, when the door had closed upon 
 the intruder. — Shepherd do they say his 
 name is ? — it should be Wolf, if I had the 
 substantiation of afiairs ! That I do call cool ! 
 —with a face like a red apple, he has— and 
 hair as short as if cattle had been browsing 
 about it. Lord, me'm ! if he should prove a 
 lunatic, — with that short hair" — 
 
 " Give me some tea, and let me go to bed," 
 was Eosamond's languid answer. The whole 
 episode had interrupted her dream less than 
 any save dreamers can believe. It was a
 
 68 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 godsend, though, for the la3y's-inaid. " If I 
 don't find out," thought she within herself, 
 " who and what that person is before the 
 morningdawns — my name is Patterson, which 
 is not exactly the case." 
 
 Alas, for poor Eelkson— a mere country 
 practitioner at best ; — and who had to contend 
 with such a town Scapin as the inquisitive 
 and crafty Mr. Light ! — She was addicted to 
 good living in an honest way ; accordingly, 
 so soon as her lady was fairly disposed of 
 for the night, she set forth on a voyage of 
 discovery to find some *' little matter," more 
 solid than tea, for her own delectation and 
 support. What was so natural as that, meet- 
 ing a smooth-shorn, creditable middle-aged 
 person on the staircase, who offered himself as 
 her Palinurus through the Scyllas of a strange 
 London hotel, she should, in return, expand 
 in grateful confidence ? To this the admi- 
 nistration of " something comfortable " might 
 conduce ; but let us not speak a word of 
 scandal against Nelkson the faithful. What 
 she said — to use her own words — " a child 
 might have participated in. " " Her lady, " 
 she averred, " was, of all ladies, wisest, virtu- 
 ousest, discreetest, best ; every one knew it,
 
 FIRST HOURS IN LONDON. 69 
 
 just as surely as that her own name was not 
 Peters, and as that she was not related to 
 Lord Nelson. Her lady was a lady of singu- 
 lar delicacy and reserve — a lady very fond of 
 reading Italian, and who wished for a master 
 the very first minute — a lady just delivered 
 from a brute of a husband, thirty years older 
 than herself, who would never let them come 
 to London — a lady of four thousand a-year — 
 a lady who had no poor relations." — What 
 harm was there in divulging this much to one 
 whose remarks on the subject — as Nelkson 
 herself expressed it — were " dictated by the 
 purest propriety ? " People that were too 
 backward in coming forward, she had always 
 considered, violated the principles of deli- 
 cacy, as much as parties who were eternally 
 pushing and pressing themselves upon 
 every body. 
 
 This, it would seem, was the opinion of 
 others besides Nelkson, — since at an early 
 hour on the following morning, before 
 Rosamond could have formed any plan for 
 the day, the waiter announced — " A gen- 
 tleman, who wished to wait upon Mrs. 
 West wood ; " and in answer to the " Show 
 him in," which our heroine, in sheer
 
 f(fQ EOCCABELLA. 
 
 bewilderment and innocence administered — 
 Mr. Shepherd presented himself. 
 
 The clear light of day showed that 
 person to be beyond dispute an agreeable- 
 looking man of forty or thereabouts : very 
 neat in his dress, which might be gayer in 
 its colours than sentimental folks would es- 
 teem gentlemanly, — somewhat of the stoutest 
 in frame, and more rubicund in complexion 
 than is interesting. His hair, cut very 
 short, curled close to his head without the 
 intervention of Mr. Light. He was as 
 scrupulously clean shaven as though beard 
 he had none ; his hands were full fleshed, 
 not to say fat — upon one finger he wore a 
 ruby of unmistakable value. His voice 
 was penetrating rather than loud, and his 
 pronunciation neater than is the rule with 
 Englishmen. Bold he was, there was no 
 gainsaying it ; but still not vulgarly forward, 
 albeit he helped himself to a chair, before he 
 could be asked to sit down. 
 
 " I make no apology," he began, ^' for 
 coming in person to say that I hope you are 
 no worse, madam, for yesterday's journey, 
 and last night's chill." 
 
 Rosamond bowed, and thanked Mr.
 
 FIRST HOURS IN LONDON. 71 
 
 Shepherd, — then not much else was to be done, 
 since, without positively interrupting her, he 
 took advantage of her hesitation to interpose 
 in continuation — 
 
 " I think, madam, if I am not mistaken — 
 indeed, my people heard it from your people 
 — that this is your first visit to London. Xow, 
 really, I should be very much flattered if 
 I could be of any use to you in any way ! 
 — I am old enough, I trust, to be permitted 
 to offer my services without awkward- 
 ness ; and I have no earthly thing in any 
 earthly world to do. Had not my sister, 
 Mrs. Ayrescough, of Bridle Hill, just left 
 town for the continent, I should have put 
 myself at your disposal through her medium, 
 as a more orderly mode of proceeding than 
 the present. But, really, we lose a great deal 
 of good time, and good enjoyment, I always 
 think, in England, because of our ceremonious 
 formalities; — and I make a point of dis- 
 regarding them in my own person, as well 
 as in that of other people, whenever it is in 
 the least possible. If you agree with me, 
 madam — as I trust may be the case — you 
 will oblige me by telling me if there is any 
 thing which I can do for you."
 
 72 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 *' You are very good to trouble yourself, 
 sir ; but " . . . . 
 
 "I do assure you, Mrs. Westwood, 
 trouble, if you choose to call it so, is the 
 very last thing which ever crosses ray mind. 
 Having little or no occupation, I am 
 always sincerely glad when I can be of 
 any assistance to others,— not precisely 
 however, to every body. — People with good- 
 nature to let, must make up their minds, I 
 always say, to very promiscuous tenants, and 
 at very low rents. But I never could under- 
 stand why a gentleman might not be of 
 service to a lady ; although they did not 
 happen to be . . . connected. About 
 carriages, or shopping, or addresses — or 
 any sight which it might give you any 
 pleasure to see — (I presume, public places 
 are at present out of the question;) pray, 
 make use of me as if you had known me 
 for years. I have ventured to send in one 
 or two flowers — a lady's room never looks 
 habitable without them. Here they come," 
 and as he spoke, entered Light with a 
 basket fresh from Henderson's, — filled with 
 flowers rare enough — but not vulgarly costly. 
 
 What could Rosamond say, little used to
 
 FIRST HOUES IN LONDON. 73 
 
 the ways of the world, as she was — and to 
 advances so far from being according to 
 rule ? — She acquitted herself badly, I fear ; 
 since her answer was — " Really, sir, I hardly 
 know how to acknowledge politeness so 
 extraordinary ... I" ... . 
 
 ^' Extraordinary, my dear madam — not in 
 the least ! — everyday rather, let me style 
 it— as if a few common flowers merited the 
 name — He has not sent even the new snufF- 
 coloured azalea ! — Pray, don't mention it. Is 
 there anv thlno; further which I can have the 
 honour and pleasure of doing for you this 
 morning? " 
 
 " Nothing — I am very much obliged to 
 you," said the lady rising. 
 
 " Then, to interrupt you no longer, I will 
 take my leave. But we are near neighbours, 
 madam, I hope you will recollect ; and re- 
 collect, too, that what I say I mean, and that 
 when I can be of any use to you, without dis- 
 agreeable intrusiveness " — these last words 
 were slightly emphasized — '^ I hope you will 
 do me the favour to have recourse to me, and 
 meanwhile, that you will allow me to lay a 
 reminder of my existence on your table." 
 And so saying, down went the brisk gentle-
 
 74 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 man's card; and, with his quick little 
 bow, he disappeared as promptly as he had 
 entered. 
 
 " This is very strange and not very plea- 
 sant," murmured Rosamond to herself. " But 
 what could I have done to put a stop to it ? 
 Shepherd of Shepherdston I If I am to see 
 or hear much more of this officious neigh- 
 bour of mine, I will not be long in changing 
 my shelter." — And with this the visiter, and 
 his unsolicited and officious civilities, passed 
 from Rosamond's mind as things which had 
 no existence, while she composed herself to 
 consider what she was to do next. 
 
 Not so the brilliant widow from the vision 
 of the " man about town." " 'Tis very 
 strange," said Mr. Shepherd to himself, 
 when the door of Number Nine had closed 
 upon him — " how matters turn out ! There 
 is a fate in all these things, no question. I do 
 not remember ever to have been so much 
 struck with a woman on so short an acquain- 
 tance." — (Alas ! for the treacheries of a 
 Shepherd's memory.) — "Light — you must be 
 wide awake. Her maid is not close, you said." 
 
 "Not particularly, sir," was Mr. Light's dry 
 answer, " after the second glass of liqueur''
 
 FIRST HOUKS IN LONDOX. 75 
 
 " Good ! Well, then, don't spare cherry 
 brandy ; find out every possible thing you 
 can about them : where they go — whom they 
 know — what brings them to London. But, 
 mind — I must not have any liberties taken." 
 
 "Liberties, lord, sir! and she the other 
 party. — I scorn taking liberties as much as 
 yourself, sir, except when I am expressly 
 invited, or when the other party happens to 
 be very good-looking. This lady's lady 
 seems a thoroughly respectable and countri- 
 fied female." 
 
 " Listen to what I say — and fewer words. 
 I have reasons for wishing to have the most 
 exact information about this Mrs. West- 
 wood — especially what family she belongs 
 to. I hate a tribe of relations — rich or poor, 
 it matters not. You may go, Light . . . and 
 really," continued Mr. Shepherd, rubbing his 
 hands like a schoolboy when he was alone, 
 " should the result of our inquiries prove 
 tolerably satisfactory, who knows but that 
 at last I shall settle ? At any rate, it is some- 
 thing to do, and to think about — and, Gad ! 
 by no means unpleasant." 
 
 And away to his tailor s bustled the san- 
 guine bachelor.
 
 76 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 [CHAPTER y. 
 
 THE ITALIAN MASTER. 
 
 For her first day, an early drive in the 
 Park, and a quiet visit to the Abbey, were 
 all that suggested themselves to the novice 
 by way of occupations. Rosamond could 
 postpone as long as she liked the considera- 
 tion of situation and form of establishment. 
 Whom had she to please save herself? 
 With Nelkson for a duenna, shrouded in 
 her very deep mourning, she could go to 
 and fro as she wished, with small chance of 
 exciting attention. The Abigail, howsoever 
 disposed she might be to favour the widow, 
 with a lady's-maid's version of Hervey's 
 meditations among the tombs at West- 
 minster, had learnt just as much as this, 
 when to speak and when to be silent ; and 
 accordingly she kept her fine sentiments for 
 tea-time and Mr. Light, or for her country
 
 THE ITALIAN MASTER. 77 
 
 correspondent, as might be : only venturing 
 to say, in answer to some monosyllable 
 which dropped from Rosamond, "Why, 
 sight-seeing gets very dull without recipro- 
 cation — as dull as the play, where there was 
 only six in the pit and seven went to sleep. 
 Suppose, then, you postponed St. Paul's, and 
 Windsor, and the Tower, and the Mint, and 
 the Freemason's Tavern, till you have a 
 friend to partake them." 
 
 '• A friend ! " was the rather mournful 
 echo. 
 
 " Shepherdston is in Shropshire, from 
 what I can hear," said J^elkson, after a 
 very long silence ; " and there are water- 
 works in the garden, and a warbling shepherd 
 in smalls, who plays his own pipe, which people 
 come from twenty miles round to see," 
 
 But Rosamond was with the mighty 
 dead — among the graves and epitaphs, and 
 so the rill of communication trickled past 
 her,— Nelkson, moreover, could not be 
 certain whether her mistress had or had 
 not recognized the smiling, bowing gentle- 
 man, mounted on a particularly neat horse, 
 who passed them thrice in Whitehall. 
 " London streets," said the prudent woman
 
 78 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 to herself, " are free to all ; and Fra not going 
 
 to foster her romantic suggestions Heigho ! 
 
 I wonder what Mr. Blosse is about." 
 
 When Rosamond returned home, she 
 found cards on her table, — cards from Mr. 
 Bessell, Mrs. Bessell, and Miss Grace Bessell, 
 and with their cards a note. '^ They are very- 
 prompt, I must say," was Rosamond's excla- 
 mation.— The note, however, proved to be 
 not of Bessell origin, since thus it ran — 
 
 "Mr. Shepherd hopes that Mrs. West- 
 wood will excuse a moment's intrusion. 
 Having heard that his neighbour is in search 
 of an Italian master, he begs to recommend 
 Signor Capranico, No 17, Warwick-street, 
 Golden-square, as a person who will do his 
 duty by his pupils — and whose accent is un- 
 exceptionable. Signor Capranico has a large 
 connection among some of our highest 
 families," &c. &c. 
 
 The note was thrown on the chimneypiece 
 with no small irritation of manner. 
 *'Nelkson," — said Rosamond, quickly, "I 
 thought you knew that I could and would 
 keep nobody about me who talked over 
 either myself or my affairs. — You must have 
 forgotten this. It is of no consequence
 
 THE ITALIAN MASTER. 79 
 
 just now ; since I shall leave this hotel to- 
 morrow. But, if any thing of the kind 
 happens again, I shall be compelled to call 
 in the services of a stranpfer. Such 
 
 o 
 
 espionage 
 is detestable : as bad as " 
 
 *' Leave this, ma'am ! — and pray, where 
 for ? that I may prepare a little ! — Then 
 I suppose you will not wish me to inspect 
 the books ? " — The negative answer was of 
 course given, and the maid retired, feeling 
 that safety for her resided in flight and cunning 
 escape from the seductions of Mr. Light and 
 his Copenhagen bottle ! — She succeeded, 
 * merely because she was permitted so to do ; 
 for Mr. Light and his master were a pair 
 of consummate practitioners : and such are 
 aware, that too great haste may, under cir- 
 cumstances, be as dangerous as too great 
 slackness. 
 
 The next morning Rosamond woke with 
 a slight cold, she thought ; at all events, feel- 
 ing just so much of the languor of indis- 
 position as makes active exertion unpleasant. 
 Her impatience to find a residence must be 
 postponed : and on sensible grounds, too, — 
 since, though not the wisest of women, 
 she felt more intimately than she could
 
 80 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 have conceived possible, her solitariness and 
 inexperience in the ways of Babylon. She 
 must ask a question or two of Mrs. Bessell ; 
 supposing that lady proved at all intelli- 
 gent and accessible. — In the mean time, she 
 might still do something. It was not ne- 
 cessary to have a house of one's own to read 
 
 Italian in. Accordingly she drove to 's, 
 
 there to learn what Italian master she had 
 best engage. 
 
 The library was gloomy, for London 
 can show dull days before midsummer ; — and 
 this day was a wet one to boot. Four or five 
 tall dark-visaged men, in large coats, not 
 relieved by any hem of white linen, were 
 whispering in the distance, or sitting at the 
 counter. Deep-toned voices were talking 
 eagerly — A few minutes elapsed before 
 Rosamond could be attended to. 
 
 "I protest, me'm," whispered ]^elkson, 
 " that this is as like the Missis of Adolpho, — so 
 queer and gloomy, and with all these foreign 
 faces about one — as one spot can be to an- 
 other, which is not a palace with a rainbow. 
 I should like to know what they are talk — 
 talking about, I must say ! — Something dis- 
 mal, I'm sure, or my name is Whitaker."
 
 THE JTAITAN MASTER. 81 
 
 I^elkson was not far wrong; the harassed- 
 looking foreigaer with large features, who 
 at last came forward to the counter, apolo- 
 gized for his delay and the confusion of the 
 moment, on the score of " news from Italy." 
 
 " Can you recommend to me a good 
 Italian master ? " said our heroine — " not for 
 a child : but for a grown-up person — for 
 myself, I mean.'' 
 
 " Certainly," was the answer — ^* there were 
 two or three just then in London of the very 
 highest quality. The most popular one and 
 the best liked was Signor Capranico.'' 
 
 '• I do not intend to read with Signor 
 Capranico,'" was Rosamond's abrupt and in- 
 stinctive remark. '' I should prefer some 
 one newer from Italy." 
 
 " Signor Marliani, then, might perhaps 
 suit the lady,*' replied the shopman.- — "He 
 is a very good master too, attends in 
 the first families, and is a man of high birth 
 and connections in his own country." 
 
 There was a murmur amonor the foreio^n 
 party, as if some of its members were 
 desirous of taking part in the discourse. 
 One or two advanced a step and the 'name 
 of ^'' questo poveiv Montegrone," was audible. 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 82 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 "Ifo!" replied the shopman in Italian, 
 the meaning of which Rosamond perfectly 
 understood. '' The lady wishes to have a 
 master who is well known, and not one with- 
 out any experience. Signor Marliani will suit 
 the lady far better." 
 
 '' I should like to hear something about 
 the other gentleman though," said the wil- 
 ful Eosamond. 
 
 The shopman was a little sulky. — They 
 
 did not know at 's much of Signor Mon- 
 
 tegrone. It was true he had not been long in 
 England, but he was in very bad health — 
 
 " Yes— owing to his attendance upon the 
 death-bed of his brother, whom thev mur- 
 dered ! " burst out from one of the dark 
 complexioned men in the background. 
 
 ^' Murdered ! " echoed Rosamond. 
 
 " One of the Montegrones was in the revo- 
 lution, I understand," said the shopman, 
 *^ and was very badly wounded. He died a 
 few weeks ago." 
 
 " And the gentleman who is left teaches 
 Italian ? " 
 
 "' Yes— I believe so," was the indifferent 
 answer. 
 
 " Teaches perfectly ! " cried the third
 
 THE ITALIAN MASTER. 83 
 
 speaker. " He is a good man, and a learn- 
 ed man, and a brave man. Pray, try him, 
 lady; if you wish ever to be of use to the 
 unfortunate!" 
 
 " I will take both addresses," said Rosa- 
 mond with true woman's tact : and on these 
 being given to her, with a slight bow she 
 extricated herself from the group of Italians, 
 who had pressed closer to admire her beauty, 
 than so many northern gentlemen would have 
 done — and was gone; followed by Nelkson. 
 
 A remark, as familiar as complimentary, 
 was launched after the fair widow by the 
 ' youngest of the Italians. 
 
 " For shame, Filippo! " cried the deep 
 stern voice of the speaker who had addressed 
 her ; " wilt thou never be a man ? Cannot 
 misery and exile make thee grave ? " 
 
 "l/<2, che diavolo?'' was the half petulant 
 half light-hearted reply, *'are we so rich, and 
 so happy, that we can afford not to laugh, 
 when the laugh costs us nothing? — And 
 are the Englishwomen, in general, so very 
 tender-hearted ? " 
 
 And the two left the shop, throwing their 
 huge cloaks up round their chins, though it 
 was midsummer in England.
 
 8^ HOCCABELLA. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 
 
 The first step taken by Eosarnond, in vin- 
 dication of her free-will, was to write a note 
 to Signor Montegrone, desiring him to come 
 to her on the following morning.— The next 
 was to return Mrs. Bessell's visit ; since she 
 felt that her lights regarding settlement of 
 herself in a house of her own were but dim, 
 and that the sooner that matter was accom- 
 plished the better it would be. 
 
 The first call paid on a strange in London, 
 by a stranger, was an event in the life of 
 every one— at least before the days came 
 when ladies run up from York or Exeter just 
 to consult a dentist, or to plot, by the aid of 
 Madame Devy, in what manner forty years 
 may be made to sit more gracefully than 
 thirty-nine have done. Persons hardly past 
 their prime, can even now recollect when
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 85 
 
 the only lady of a Lancashire village, who 
 had paid a three months' visit in London — 
 who had held a million in her hand at the 
 Bank — who had seen Royalty in state at the 
 Theatre, and the charity children in gala at 
 St. Paul's, — took precedence of the untra- 
 velled, for some twenty years after, and 
 decided upon dress, manners, and cooking. 
 Nothing, however, could be less exciting 
 than our heroine's first experience of making 
 acquaintance in London. Except foritsdouble 
 drawing-room, Mrs. Bessell's house in Upper 
 "Bedford Place might have belonged to St. 
 Anne Street, or Great George Square, in 
 Liverpool, so utterly undistinguished were 
 its dingy garnitures; while the lady of the 
 mansion quietly dressed for a round of visits 
 in the neighbourhood — giving thereby the 
 lie to a favourite country tradition, that 
 London gentlewomen never stir out on foot 
 alone, — though more easily polite than one 
 of her class in Liverpool would have been, 
 was but a commonplace woman. Finding 
 that Rosamond stood in need of counsel, 
 Mrs. Bessell begged her to dine with them 
 the next day: — "Quite alone, if you will 
 excuse it," added she, " for we have an in-
 
 8Q ROCCABELLA. 
 
 valid ; and, on her account, are just now 
 seeing no company nor going out. — Probably 
 you may like to consult Mr. Bessell — ladies 
 have such poor heads for business." — The 
 invitation was accepted. 
 
 "I shall never be intimate with her,'' 
 thought Eosamond, as she drove from the 
 door; ''but I dare say she will know all that I 
 want to know about chairs and tables. 'Tis a 
 shame, however, to go and dine there merely 
 to make use of her ; Mrs. Rick could not 
 be more worldly." — And then came a sigh, 
 which said, '^ How strange it would be were 
 one to become like the rest of them ! — and 
 if London should turn out dull, too!" 
 
 The rest of the day was got through by 
 aid of another drive, less and more solitary 
 — for Nelkson was Rosamond's companion — 
 and in a languid study of books, on which 
 the reader's eye dwelt, while her mind 
 wrought busily upon topics with which the 
 book had nothing to do. I am afraid you 
 will be impatient with my heroine, because 
 she was impatient. — What was all this to 
 come to ? What was it to end in ? — And 
 then, as Rosamond has often since confessed, 
 resentful thoughts arose in her mind against
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 87 
 
 " those Bells ! " — precisely as if our refusal to 
 commit our daughter Martha to her guar- 
 dianship had been the cause of this ennuL 
 But Rosamond, when left to her better self, 
 was just and noble. "Ah, no!" was her 
 second idea, " how right they were ! Am /fit 
 to be intrusted with any other creature's des- 
 tiny; when, even now, with my perfect liberty 
 and ample means, I do not know in which 
 way to arrange my own? How unjust I 
 was to them on Tuesday week! — How rude ! 
 
 — But and I will speak to Mr. 
 
 Bessell about it to-morrow." — And out came 
 the tablets ; and the widow, in a state of 
 excited orderliness, made her memorandum 
 with a precision which would have done 
 credit to a solicitor's clerk, sighing aloud, 
 when she had written it — " Yes, any thing, 
 any thing better than a companion — a spy — 
 of Mrs. Rick's choosing." 
 
 ^' So I should say, madam," was Nelkson's 
 comment ; "if you could know what a 
 double-faced woman that Miss Dillington is, 
 whom Mrs. James is always trying to get 
 off her hands — though the two are as sweet as 
 a psalm to each other when any body catches 
 'era together. Miss Dillington was Mr.
 
 S8 ROCGABELLA. 
 
 Rick's Intended, and Mrs. James enticed 
 him to jilt her : — and somehow, can't shake 
 her off since they made it up, it seems; hnij 
 if she could put arsenic into one of her 
 tracts, or transport the other party away to 
 Canada, where nobody could speak to her- 
 more, that's what Mrs. Eick would do, 
 ma'am, by Miss Dillington — or Nelkson is' 
 not my name, but Peacock." 
 
 The next day was one of greater anima- ' 
 tion and variety. — There were letters on 
 Rosamond's table when she came in to 
 breakfast. We had written to her ; for my wife 
 judged that she might 'be feeling lonely in* 
 "that wilderness of London." But better 
 than this was a note, in a hand perfectly 
 strange to her, which ran thus : — • 
 
 "Having accidentally heard that the 
 Signora Westwood is thinking of placing 
 herself under the care of 11 Cavalier e Monte- 
 grone, a friend to order is anxious to- 
 warn that lady, before she commits herself 
 to an acquaintance which she may find more 
 than usually troublesome — that Signor Mon- 
 tegrone is connected closely with the most 
 extravagant revolutionary and republican
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES.' 89 
 
 associates in France and Italy : persons who 
 are utterly unscrupulous as to means, pro- 
 vided they can enlist the rich or the 
 generous in their hopeless cause. The 
 Signora Westwood is too amiable to be 
 compromised (and compromised she will be) 
 by any dealings with such persons ; — and is 
 hereby kindly and gravely apprised of their 
 tendency and projects." 
 
 " Incognito." 
 
 There was no date to the above communica- 
 tion, which was sealed with a wafer: and the 
 penny postmark did 'not suffice to reveal in 
 what part of Babylon it had been committed 
 to the Lion's mouth. 
 
 '^ Really ! " exclaimed Rosamond, tearing 
 up the paper with an attempt at indiffer- 
 ence — " it would seem as if every thing I 
 did was watched. This poor man has some 
 ^ialicious and bitter enemy — Can it" . . . . 
 and then she snatched up the fragments of 
 the note, to compare them with one which 
 was still lying on the mantelpiece — and then 
 laughed aloud at the irritability of her own 
 suspicions. Nothing could be more different 
 than the writing — from Mr. Shepherd's.
 
 90 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 Ere noon a card was brought in, and 
 after it came the object of this denunciation, 
 "Italo Montegrone." 
 
 Out of such a being who could fabricate 
 a romance? He was a little man, long past 
 middle age, — sallow, stooping, sad-looking, 
 with coarse black hair cut as short as if he 
 had just come out of prison, large ears, 
 large dull dark eyes — a being depressed with 
 fallen fortunes, and the awkwardness of a gen- 
 tleman compelled to undertake an unfamiliar 
 occupation. Never was there seen a fairer 
 specimen of a language-master in spite of 
 himself. — No grammar nor verbs were to be 
 expected from that source, it was clear: no 
 relishing reading of some great poem with 
 one who could help her to enjoy it. Signor 
 Montegrone seemed more unwilling than 
 anxious to undertake the task — his pupil, it 
 would seem, might teach herself for any sug- 
 gestions he could offer. His unreadiness, 
 however, roused Kosamond, who explained 
 to him that she had already made some 
 progress — 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 That she was anxious to receive her 
 lessons altogether in Italian.
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 91 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 That she wished to read some of the new 
 Italian literature. What book would Sign or 
 Montegrone recommend her to begin with ? 
 
 " Yes," was still the answer. 
 
 Then, with the effort of one who is awak- 
 ing himself, he said, he would bring some 
 new book with him when he came to give 
 his lesson. What hour would suit Mrs. 
 Westwood ? 
 
 " Early," was her reply, " as early as ten 
 ' o'clock on any day of the week you please — 
 and the terms ? " 
 
 A dusty flush, not red exactly, mounted 
 up to the roots of the melancholy man's 
 hair — "He believed — he was not sure — he 
 was not much in the habit. . . Would half 
 a guinea be more than Mrs. Westwood 
 wished to give ? " 
 
 " [N'o, certainly — On the contrary, if " . . . 
 
 "Then I will come on Friday morning at 
 ten precisely, if that will suit madame. I 
 have just agreed to read a little with an Eng- 
 lish gentleman who is also here — a Monsieur 
 Seppard, or Shoepar — and am glad to bring 
 the two engagements together." 
 
 Kosamond started to her feet. There
 
 92 KOCCABELLA. 
 
 could be no possible mistake respecting this 
 attack on her tranquillity. Mr. Shepherd 
 again ! — What could the man mean by- 
 thrusting himself before her, in season and 
 out of season ? For this had she declined 
 the services of Signor Capranico? But what 
 had she to do with Signor Montegrone's. 
 other pupils ? After all, she must not be a 
 fool. The whole thing might be an accident. 
 She must have become missish with living so 
 long in the atmosphere of gossip and espial 
 which belongs to a country town ! So soon 
 as she got into a house of her own she should 
 hear nothing more about it all. 
 
 Thus reasoning, Rosamond dismissed Mr. 
 Shepherd from her mind, and gave herself 
 up to. the business of the day — her dinner 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Bessell. , In after years 
 she laughed at the importance of this very 
 insipid transaction to herself; — not that she 
 cared whether the family would please her, 
 or whether she should please them ; but 
 because her mind was in that restless, un- 
 settled, apprehensive state, to which no 
 event comes simply, nor without a sort of 
 morbid exaggeration and speculation, such 
 as the orderly and well-trained cannot con-
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 93 
 
 ceive. "I verily think," said the widow to her- 
 self impatiently, as she stood before the glass, 
 ^' that were it not for my mourning, I should 
 be as hard to please to-day as any coquette 
 of eighteen before her first ball — And what 
 for ? A London lawyer, his wife and 
 daughters — people whom I shall probably 
 never see ten times again ! " 
 
 *^Why, me'ra," was Nelkson's judicious 
 remark, " dressing for London is not dress- 
 ing for Liverpool. They know what style 
 is here. And what is the best of it there ? 
 just what you can buy for money, rae'm, and 
 no more. Though I am not as young as I 
 could wish to be, I can tell the diiference. 
 It pervades from top to bottom— why, me'm, 
 the gentlemen's servants here are more polite 
 and speak better than gentlemen's selves 
 yonder ! There's a Mr. Light in this very 
 house, for instance — a married man, me'm, I 
 have reason to imagine, and his conversation 
 — could you hear it — is as elegant as an in- 
 structive book. But you need not be afraid, 
 go where you will. You never looked like 
 a Liverpool lady — and this was what always 
 put out Mrs. Chidley so: with her sables 
 and her grebe-skins. Spend what she would.
 
 94 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 me'm, there was Cotton written upon her 
 visage, as plain as the words could speak, — or 
 my sister married a Jenkinson." 
 
 In spite of Nelkson's inspiriting encourage- 
 ment, Eosamond could not prevent herself 
 from feeling solitary and nervous as she 
 entered the Bessells' drawing-room, dingy 
 in the dubious light which marks the closing 
 of a summer day in Bloomsbury, — trembled a 
 little as the lady of the house shook hands 
 with her, and trembled a little more as a 
 rather ample and magnificent person rose 
 from the sofa, and was introduced as " Miss 
 Grace Bessell, my second daughter." 
 
 In this lady's case, it must be owned that 
 some cause might exist for nervousness on 
 the part of a provincial widow, were she 
 even as beautiful as Rosamond. Miss Grace 
 Bessell was a some what overcoming personage. 
 Her figure was superb; — and her very white 
 neck and her very white arms were tho- 
 roughly worthy of the very liberal display 
 made of the same. Her face was handsome 
 but incurably mature. 'So art could have 
 given to those large features the semblance 
 of youth, and it may have been some self- 
 knowledge on the point, which had stamped
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 95 
 
 them with an expression of sublime and dole- 
 ful consciousness of ill-usage, which suited 
 ill with the innocent muslin frock, and the 
 one dewy full-blown rose which Miss Grace 
 wore in her bosom. Her voice was honeyed 
 but lacrymose ; and though she bowed, 
 and bent, and drooped her eyes with elabo- 
 rate and courteous gentleness. Slander's self 
 could not have described her as ^'humble." 
 The greatness of Miss Grace, however, was 
 not of taciturn quality. She had much to 
 say — beginning with the supposition that 
 this was " Mrs. West wood's first visit to 
 London." 
 
 Rosamond owned to being a novice : but 
 was in a fair way of losing the character ; — 
 her intention being to remain in town. 
 
 " Ah ! " was the languid response of Miss 
 Grace. " Of course you will prefer the new 
 quartier to ours, having no ties such as keep 
 us here. I can never see the summer come 
 round, without feeling how immense is the 
 sacrifice we ladies make to Law ! . . . . im- 
 mense," repeated she, turning up her large 
 eyes, '' and ill-rewarded !" 
 
 "You prefer the country, then?" asked 
 Rosamond, a little astonished; for never had
 
 9Q EOCCABELLA. 
 
 inaid or matron less the air of rural simpli- 
 icity than Miss Grace Bessell. 
 
 "Such a distancefrom the Park!" was her 
 indirect reply. " I can't imagine any thing 
 more funereal, than riding through all these 
 burning streets home to papa's early dinner. 
 Lady Marcia says that it would hinder her 
 from ever mounting a horse again. Do 
 Liverpool ladies ride much, Mrs. Westwood?" 
 
 " Not much," answered Eosamond. " Nei- 
 ther the country nor the climate are tempting : 
 and the Liverpool gentlemen are too busy 
 in the day-time to be often at any body's 
 command." 
 
 ''What a giving up!" said the plaintive 
 Amazon. "A privation I should not know 
 how to meet. You will ride, of course, here^ 
 Mrs. Westwood?" 
 
 "Lam not sure," was Eosamond's answer. 
 "I almost fancy that I am too old to begin: 
 and I shall find so many things besides to 
 interest me, and to take up my time." 
 
 " dear, how fortunate you are! — Music, 
 
 I suppose, for one You have no 
 
 opera in Liverpool, have you? Lady Marcia 
 and I agreed, mamma, on Tuesday, that we 
 had had enough ; and that neither of us
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 97 
 
 ever wished to listen to a note of music again 
 . . . . But liere's papa and dinner." And Miss 
 Grace brightened as she rose ; — on which 
 poor, innocent Rosamond credited her with 
 filial piety. 
 
 Her own introduction to Mr. Bessell took 
 place upon the stairs. But the voice made 
 her start. This was not the first time that 
 Mr. Bessell had taken her down to dinner. 
 The other time had been in her own house. 
 But tliat Mr. Bessell had seemed heavy, 
 pre-occupied, lethargic, and, she had fancied, 
 slovenly in his dress; whereas this was a 
 handsome, elderly man, strikingly resembling 
 his daughter, and — our heroine fancied, 
 even from his few words of recognition — 
 somewhat higher in tone and intellect than 
 the ladies of his family. 
 
 There exist few persons now — save here 
 and there some reader of the Le Grand 
 class — v/ho would care to read a list of the 
 dishes on the table, even had Soyer ordained 
 the courses. Accordingly the absence of 
 Mrs. Bessell's bill of fare — though Mr. Bessell 
 liked a good bill of fare — will be excused. 
 Rosamond in truth would not have noticed 
 of what it consisted, for better or for worse, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 had it not been for the active commentary 
 of Miss Grace, who could speak to the pointy 
 and speakj too, with authority. Grand names, 
 however, seemed to stand as high in her 
 esteem as good cookery. The serving of the 
 soup ahnost made her tearful. ^' The poor 
 Marchioness of Dundee used to order that 
 ■VQXjpotage every day that she dined atVery's." 
 
 Eosamond had heard of the untimely 
 death of this then-famed leader of fashion ; 
 and after such an utterance of fond remem- 
 brance, it was only natural to ask of Miss 
 Grace if she had known the lady well. — But 
 the question was far too direct and provincial ; 
 ihQ answer to it was interrupted by a demand 
 for sauterne, and afterwards forgotten to be 
 given. — Ere Rosamond could think of the 
 matter a second time, the great anxiety ex- 
 pressed by Miss Grace about Lord Everard 
 Talbois' match with Miss Lackerby the heir- 
 ess, had turned another page of the peerage, 
 and placed the speaker on grounds where 
 the Liverpool widow could not follow her. 
 
 ^' Is anything more certainly known about 
 it, papa? (Baker, those cucumbers and the 
 Chili vinegar.) When one thinks of the 
 Lackerby nose intruding itself into the gal-
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 99 
 
 lery at Crowle, it does seem a mesalliance 
 indeed!" 
 
 ^' Come, Miss Grace Bessell, no finery. 
 Lord Everard may put up with the Lack- 
 erby nose for the sake of the Lackerby five 
 hundred thousand pounds. And I have 
 always thought her a well-mannered, culti- 
 vated young lady, far superior to the com- 
 mon run of London girls. If either party 
 is to be pitied, it is not Lord Everard." 
 
 " I am sure he will treat her like a 
 gentleman (the legumes^ Baker), and at all 
 events she will never clash with his family. 
 Lady Marcia says that the dear Duchess has 
 absolutely gone into waiting again on pur- 
 pose to keep out of the way of her daughter- 
 in-law. — At her age ! " 
 
 "A hopeful beginning, is it not, Mrs. 
 Westwood? To marry into a family where 
 one's very entrance is thought to be a shame 
 and disgrace! A far happier woman would 
 Miss Lackerby have been, if she could have 
 caught my good friend. Shepherd." 
 
 "0 papa! with that plebeian abord!'' 
 
 " Only Shepherd," continued Mrs. Bessell, 
 " is what Lord Everard can no longer afford 
 to be, a man of spirit — and would not sell
 
 100 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 himself to anyone for money! I never saw 
 more encouragement held out to living being 
 than by Mrs. Lackerby to hiai." 
 
 "Now, dear papa," cried Miss Grace, 
 pluming herself and waving upon her chair, 
 "you say so to justify me, I am sure. . .Thank 
 you ! The lady whom Mr. Shepherd would 
 not take — you cannot conceive a more un- 
 distinguished person than Mr. Shepherd, 
 Mrs. Westwood — cannot, surely, be thought 
 a prize for Lord Everard ! I don't wonder 
 that the dear Duchess feels compelled to draw 
 the line ; and I am sure, papa, that you of all 
 living people are the last to depreciate our 
 aristocracy; (the Mayonnaise to my mother, 
 Baker — though you won't like it to-day, 
 ma'am — It's a failure)... What a misery it is, 
 Mrs. Westwood, that with an English artiste 
 there is never any getting the same thing 
 done twice in the same way ! Lady Marcia 
 says, that they have had twenty in one 
 twelvemonth at Marbleton to please the 
 Duke, who will not hear of a foreigner in 
 his establishment — and not one turned out 
 supportable after the first ten days." 
 
 " Well — about foreigners, I am of the 
 Duke's mind," said Mr. Bessell. "But you
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 101 
 
 should tell Mrs. Westwood, Grace, that Lady 
 Marcia professes to be a woman of taste. 
 Talk of the gourmandise of a regular diner- 
 out — it's nothing to be compared to the 
 thorough-going epicurism of a fine lady: 
 for that no cook, celestial or terrestrial, can 
 satisfy. Shepherd declares that she had the 
 cook rung out of his bed at three o'clock in 
 the morning, at the Plough at Cheltenham, 
 because she could not sleep; and took a 
 fancy, there and then, for an omelette with 
 Maraschino jelly." 
 
 '' I don't doubt, " replied Miss Grace, 
 " that Mr. Shepherd is diddle enough him- 
 self among his own set. I could fancy him 
 raising a whole town for any thing he 
 wanted. But you merely take him under 
 your protection to-day, papa, out of contra- 
 diction, and because Lord Alan's Pasta won 
 the Derby against his Parvenu. Gentlemen 
 are so fond of opposition, Mrs. Westwood. 
 ( Baker, the cream to Mrs. Westwood.) Creme 
 a la Ciniitelli — or cemetery cream, as our 
 cook will persist in calling it." 
 
 " And perfectly right she is," replied Mr. 
 Bessell — knowing her master's staunch old 
 English principles. " Mrs. Westwood — come,
 
 102 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 upon which side are you ? — for or against 
 foreigners ? " 
 
 " Must I take a side ? " said Rosamond, 
 smiling. " Or will you think I have already 
 done so, if I confess to having this raornino: 
 engaged a gentleman to read Italian with 
 me?" 
 
 " Signor Capranico," I suppose, suggested 
 Miss Grace ; " at Marbleton, they would not 
 hear of any one but Capranico. They treat 
 him there quite as one of the family. They 
 make a solitary exception in his case." 
 
 "No — Signor Montegrone," was Eosa- 
 raond's answer. " I believe he has not long 
 arrived in England." 
 
 "Ah! one of the refugees, I daresay. 
 Only fancy, mama, some of those women 
 coming to Lady Marcia, and wanting her to 
 patronize their Refugee Ball— A^r of all 
 people ! — Is he a handsome man, Mrs. 
 Westwood?" 
 
 " On the contrary, the most depressed- 
 looking being I ever saw. The sound of 
 his voice alone is enough to make one sorry 
 for him." 
 
 " Those refugees are always plausible," was 
 Mr. Bessell's remark ; " and it is amazing
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 103 
 
 what success they have with Englishwomen. 
 Take care, Mrs. Westwood, that this 
 depressed Signer Montegrone does not 
 fascinate you. You know that I am, in 
 some sort, your guardian ; and an old married 
 man, 1 hope, may always give advice, I hope, 
 to a young unmarried woman." 
 
 There was a certain sincere good-nature 
 in her host's tone, which touched Rosamond, 
 though the harsh prejudice (such she felt it) 
 revolted her. 
 
 " I have seen a good many of these 
 refugees, Mrs. Westwood," continued Mr. 
 Bessell ; " and, take my word for it, it 
 won't do. If they are really in earnest, 
 why cannot they stay in their own country, 
 and, if need be, die there ? " 
 
 Rosamond felt that this sounded true and 
 direct : and yet that it was any thing but the 
 whole truth — -and she longed to answer the 
 " WhyJ" ^' Ah ! you need not tell me which 
 side you have taken," continued her host. 
 *^ I see by your face that you are romantic, 
 and think me an old bigoted John Bull. 
 But I don't like that sort of people, Mrs. 
 Westwood ; and when you have known as 
 much of them as I have done, you won't
 
 104 ROCCABELLA. i 
 
 find me so far wrong— take my word for it; 
 It begins badly — it continues badly — it ends 
 badly. No ! the Italians make famous 
 opera-singers ; — but very rubbishy patriots, 
 /think." 
 
 Mr. Bessell's, '^ I think'' was consequential 
 beyond the average. Yet Rosamond had 
 courage enough, in the very face of it, to 
 urge misgovernment, despotism, and such 
 manner of pleas — not very logically it may 
 be — -but in hard, blushing earnest. 
 
 " I^onsense, my dear ! " replied Mr. Bessell, 
 who, about this stage of dinner, was apt to 
 become generally positive, and particularly 
 affectionate to the lady who sate beside him. 
 " They are quite as well governed as they 
 deserve ever to be — those Italians. Did they 
 agree among themselves when they governed 
 themselves ? Do they agree even now when 
 they are what they call in misfortune ? 
 You ladies like them, because they have 
 winning ways with them ; but one English- 
 man is worth ten of them, any day. Pass 
 the wine, Grace; — and pray don't get refugee- 
 bitten, my dear lady. We shall hear of 
 you turning Catholic next, like Miss 
 Battersby, an old playfellow of my
 
 OTHER NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 105 
 
 daughter's there, who married her singing- 
 master. 
 
 *' And she was with Lady Marcia, papa, 
 the other day, begging — positively begging." 
 
 " You show me a dismal example," said 
 Rosamond, " which I trust I am not going to 
 follow. On the contrary, I am hoping for 
 your advice about taking a house in town, 
 and buying a living (is that not the right 
 phrase?) in the country. I hope that is 
 sober, and," with a slight irony of tone, 
 " English and Protestant enough to please 
 you," 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear it, Mrs, Westwood : 
 for really so strange are the things which 
 Englishwomen are found capable of doing 
 nowadays, that I am glad to meet with any 
 body, like you, able to please yourself, who 
 will set a good example. AVhat with ladies 
 who will go every where, and see every sight, 
 however great the difficulty or danger may be 
 — (Grace, you need not bristle up in defence 
 of your friend, Lady Marcia) — and ladies who 
 think they should sit in parliament — and 
 ladies, Lord bless us ! who write freethink- 
 ing books — I am afraid that your sex at 
 present is not in the most easy plight,
 
 106 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 or the best repute possible. ISo more wine ? 
 nor you, Mrs. Bessell? nor you, Grace? 
 Then I will follow you in five minutes, and 
 we will soon settle about the house and the 
 living. With money and common-sense a 
 man can do any thing — how much more (as 
 you are just disappearing, I may say it) a 
 young and pretty woman, backed by an 
 unexceptionable legal authority ! "
 
 THE REFUGEES. 107 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE REFUGEES. 
 
 A HOUSE Avas soon found for Hosamond — 
 thanks to Mr. BesselFs counsels and intro- 
 ductions — a furnished house, looking upon 
 Hyde Park : small it is true, but as cheer- 
 ful a bower as ever maid, wife, or widow 
 nestled in. — Nor Avas it found difficult to 
 people the same with such discreet folk as 
 are fit to wait upon a lonely lady. 
 
 Perhaps every thing came too readily for 
 one lik^^Rosamond, who had never been ac- 
 tively enough employed — perhaps there must 
 be a canker in every bud, a curse in every 
 granted prayer; but, once settled in her 
 solitude, Rosamond began to think that to 
 have some friend to read Zimmerman on 
 the subject with, would be not unpleasant. 
 She missed the noises of the hotel — she 
 missed the daily provocation, which the
 
 108 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 expectation that she was about to be pro- 
 voked anew by Mr. Shepherd, had minister- 
 ed to her. — Not that that gentleman was by 
 any means disposed to lose sight of the lady ; 
 but, after having left his card in Park-street, 
 with a line upon it in recommendation of " a 
 treasure of a head-servant, who had lived 
 for many years with his sister Mrs. Ayres- 
 cough," it was not very easy for him to make 
 any immediate further advances ; — Rosa- 
 mond not being " one of those ladies in 
 weeds," as my wife once put it, " who goes 
 east and west to ask advice with tears in her 
 eyes of all manner of single men." 
 
 Our widow had her pursuits, it is true; 
 but pursuits are apt to become but so many 
 feverish mockeries to people who merely re- 
 sort to them in order to kill time. If she read 
 Italian voraciously, till even poor melancholy 
 Signer Montegrone was warmed up into a 
 compliment on her enthusiasm — who was 
 the better for it ? If she sat one hour, or if 
 she sat ten at the harp, who was there to call 
 her to account save Nelkson ? — or else Miss 
 Grace Bessell, with her languid chronicle of 
 Lady Marcia's predilections, and the number 
 of hours, minutes, or seconds appointed by
 
 THE REFUGEES. 109 
 
 Lady Marcia to her studies, useful or orna- 
 mental ? Rightly minded people who would 
 regulate love by pattern, and measure off 
 sorrow by lengths, might have thought that 
 such melancholy and lassitude were as 
 inevitable to widowhood, as Rosamond's 
 deep crape and dull bombazeen. So at least 
 said Miss Grace ; but Rosamond was too 
 honest to fall into the world's rumour, nay, 
 perhaps, she rather defied it ; in no vulgar 
 Amazonian manner, but with that strong 
 secret protest which says, ''What do you ask 
 me to do or to be ? " — and " What will you 
 give me for so doing, and for so being — 
 in return ? " 
 
 It fell out, how, hardly any one appeared 
 to know,- that, in spite of the large number 
 of her aristocratic acquaintances discoursed of 
 by Miss Grace Bessell, that tall lady had much 
 leisure and condescension to spare for our 
 widow, just then. — Rosamond looked worth 
 forming : four thousand a-year was a pretty 
 sum to spend, and Mr. Bessell had mentioned 
 in his family the singularly lonely position 
 of its possessor. — Miss Grace presently owned 
 to a penchant for Park-street only less strong 
 than her admiration for Lady Marcia.
 
 liO ROCCABELLA. 
 
 Upper Bedford-place was dull, owing to the 
 nervous illness of Miss Bcssell ; — some unex- 
 plained complaint which demanded a twilight 
 room and a quiet house. To tend her darling 
 invalid, it was intimated that Miss Grace had 
 turned a deaf ear to every species of matri- 
 monial proposal, — though there was a second 
 cousin of Lady Marcia's who fretted under 
 this resolution, — aware the while that to 
 protest against it would be vain. ^' Nay," 
 would the lady add, " should we hear of 
 the Honourable Mr. Tottington's sudden 
 marriage, I for one shall breathe more 
 
 freely " and then she would stop 
 
 herself, and sigh, and beg pardon. 
 
 The ladies will not forgive me for saying 
 that, in part. Miss Grace gained such footing 
 as she did gain in Eosamond's house, by her 
 sprightly abuse of Mr. Shepherd, vented 
 during a certain morning call. To this Rosa- 
 mond gave ear with an appetite which puzzled 
 herself To credit Miss Grace, — the creature 
 was a professional persecutor, — a man who 
 lived in hotels, on purpose to molest lonely 
 ladies that had rooms on the same floor 
 with his distasteful attentions. — He it was 
 who had showed such impertinent alacrity
 
 THE REFUGEES. Ill 
 
 in insistino^ that there must be somethins; 
 burning in Lady Angela Tewe's sitting-room 
 at Cheltenham, ^vhich ended in Lady Angela 
 being compelled to admit him into her visit- 
 ing list. — AVhen Mrs. Corkran Corkran's vis- 
 a-vis ran away with her, Mr. Shepherd was 
 the person who gave the five-pound note to 
 Colonel Teddie's valet for stopping the horses, 
 so much had he been pleased with the man's 
 gallantry ; and there Mr. Shepherd was 
 now at Colonel Teddie's, a public fixture ; 
 just like any other old acquaintance, laugh- 
 ing so loud and leading the conversation. 
 — He had always bottles in his pocket on 
 board ship to offer to people that were sea- 
 sick — and at that time, you know, dear Mrs. 
 Westwood," sighed Miss Grace, " no living 
 lady can be upon her guard against advances. 
 Well, and now, I see him every morning I 
 come here, with his groom behind him, 
 riding up from Piccadilly at the very time 
 when you are going to drive out. If any 
 accident were to happen to either of us, he 
 would appear at once in his true colours." 
 Nor was this all; one day when Mr. Sliepherd 
 was off his horse, close to Mrs. Westwood's 
 door — what did Mr. Shepherd mean by get-
 
 112 KOCCABELLA. 
 
 ■> 
 
 ting off his horse just there? — he had abso- 
 lutely had the forwardness to stop Rosa- 
 mond's visiter, to shake hands with her, and 
 "to force into her hands," so Miss Grace 
 averred, the magnificent bouquet which she 
 brought in with her. 
 
 " I thought you hardly knew Mr. Shep- 
 herd ? " said dear, simple Rosamond. 
 
 " 0, not I !" was the answer ; " but papa 
 does ; and he has dined at our house more 
 than once. I know Mr. Shepherd ? No : he 
 is one of the persons before whom one never 
 opens one's lips, since he gets every where ; 
 and it's so disagreeable having every trifle 
 that passes repeated. — But Colonel Champ- 
 neys shall tell me what brings him into this 
 neighbourhood so incessantly. I am quite 
 willing to admit that this bouquet was aim- 
 ed at you, and not meant for a dowerless 
 virgin like me. It is like him : it is like 
 him, too, to stay in town ; where his presence, 
 as he must know, is felt as more frequent 
 than welcome ! It is high time he was down 
 at Shepherdston. Where do you go this 
 summer, dear Mrs. Westwood ? " 
 
 "Nowhere from home, I think, so long as 
 I am in my deep mourning; perhaps I shall
 
 THE BEFUGEES. 113 
 
 winter in Paris : meanwhile I am interested 
 in my Italian lessons, and, as Mr. Bessell 
 knows, there is a piece of business for me 
 to be complete which I will not leave un- 
 finished." 
 
 '^Ah, business!" was Miss Grace's reply, 
 with a superfine sigh ; "what a tax on a lady ! 
 I oftentimes tell my dear sister that she 
 ought to be thankful to be released from it. 
 Though indeed ... As for me, I confess 
 my utter incapability . . . and I do not know 
 that I should be much less dense as regards 
 Italian studies, if I were condemned to pur- 
 sue them with such a master as your Signor 
 Montegrone. — I never saw so dull an object." 
 
 " Poor man ! " said Rosamond, '' he must 
 be ill, I think, from that strange, un- 
 natural, fixed look which his eyes have. And 
 sometimes he is so languid that I wonder 
 how he has dragged himself up-stairs to 
 give me his hour. It will not surprise me 
 at any moment, to hear that he is entirely 
 disabled from coming to me." 
 
 Rosamond's foresight was justified. The 
 next day Signor Montegrone missed his 
 lesson, without sending message or apology ; 
 and Rosamond's busy mind and beneficent 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 heart began to consider how it would be pos- 
 sible for her to inquire into the cause of his 
 absence. But it would be first necessary 
 for her to get his address ; and that could 
 not be done till the morrow. — The excessive 
 distaste and want of interest shown by her 
 master, — the blankness and the saplessness 
 which bespoke a crushed spirit, had made a 
 painful impression upon our widow. — She 
 pondered the state of the lonely and exiled 
 gentleman as she sate alone over her exqui- 
 site little dinner, with some idea that this 
 was one of those stories in which to be good 
 Fairy might be very charming. She began 
 gravely to consider how best she might ap- 
 proach the sorrow or the destitution (if such 
 existed) of one so apathetic and uncommuni- 
 cative. — And as she stood on her balcony, 
 overlooking the Park, for a last breath of the 
 evening air, and a last glow of the evening 
 sunshine, few who drove past could have 
 imagined the cause of the deep and thought- 
 ful sadness v/hich shaded her features. Even 
 Nelkson, — who came to bring her her veil, 
 with an oozing of spite aimed at Miss Grace ; 
 which spit forth, that it was quite a relief to be 
 left to themselves for one evening — and tilted
 
 THE REFUGEES. 115 
 
 against Russell Square airs, that could not 
 endure their own sphere — both lost upon 
 the pensive Rosamond — wondered within 
 herself w^hether her mistress was absolutely 
 thinking of the defunct Liverpool merchant. 
 
 "A charming evening!" said a voice close 
 to Rosamond ; " and what a charming 
 situation we have to enjoy it in — have we 
 not, Mrs. Westwood?" 
 
 The dreamer startled, blushed, turned . . 
 Close to herself, on the balcony of the next 
 house — a house which had been long to let — 
 red as a rose, small as a bird, and straight as 
 an arrow, with his hat off, like one having 
 a lodgment hard by, stood Mr. Shepherd . . 
 
 '^ I startled you, ma'am, I fear, by inter- 
 rupting your thoughts so hastily," continued 
 he; . . " I yield to impulse too much, I often 
 think. Here we are, you see, good neigh- 
 bours again. I've been trying to get hold of 
 this particular house for a couple of years 
 past ; but Lord Watford and Mrs. Poulett 
 Blackett's executors could not agree, and so 
 there w^as no getting a title till a month ago. 
 I have got one at last, however ; and, strange 
 to say, am delighted with my purchase. 
 But your's is the prettier house."
 
 116 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 Eosamond did not know what she said, 
 feeling aghast at the revelation; — yet, in 
 spite of herself, a little diverted. She uttered 
 merely some phrase of civil assent. 
 
 " Very true, Mrs. Westwood : I shallhsiYe 
 to pull the place to pieces before all is done. 
 I imagine the old lady was a character. She 
 kept rabbits in her drawing-room, and a seal 
 in the butler's pantry, my man assures me: 
 not that I swallow the seal. — But she was 
 half crazy and a miser: and so my architect 
 has been here all day to see what we could 
 do. — I must have air, and I must have light, 
 and I must have space, and I must have some 
 privacy, and room to hang my pictures — 
 
 and a corner to put a friend or two in Is 
 
 it not curious that, in a great place like 
 London, we should find ourselves living next 
 door to each other, and what is more curious, 
 some mutual acquaintances, after having our- 
 selves made acquaintance so very oddly ! I 
 believe you know my excellent legal adviser, 
 Mr. Bessell of Upper Bedford Place ? " 
 
 A simple ''Yes" sufficed. Mr. Shepherd 
 was off again. — " An excellent fellow is 
 Bessell — and a thorough gentleman, which 
 is more than can be said of every one in his
 
 THE REFUGEES. 117 
 
 profession. He gives capital wine. Miss Bes- 
 sell, too, is a very superior person. Her re- 
 tirement is a real loss to society : so good 
 she was without the slightest pretence. I 
 think we shall have some little to reverse the 
 phrase — (Light, has the man got that mea- 
 surement yet, there — of that space between 
 the columns?) — to suit Miss Grace. — But she 
 is a disappointed beauty, and that accounts 
 for a vast number of small foibles. One must 
 not be too hard upon Miss Grace. Ten years 
 ago, she would have made a very good wife 
 for any man, as times go." 
 
 "Good-evening, sir," said Rosamond, 
 moving away from Mr. Shepherd's truths, 
 which she felt to be more entertainino^ than 
 discreet. 
 
 '- Pray, one moment : — we have another 
 acquaintance in common, about whom I 
 wish to speak to you, if you have no objec- 
 tion — poor Montegrone." 
 
 There was no refusing to stop and listen. 
 " I have been reading with him a little, 
 Mrs. Westwood ; — thinking it possible that I 
 may make an Italian tour this autumn, and 
 hearing that they were in very great want. 
 He's not much of a master, it must be con-
 
 118 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 fessed ; but I am sure you will agree with 
 me in thinking, that, good or bad, he must 
 not be turned out to die in the street ! " 
 
 " You are speaking in jest, I hope/' said 
 Rosamond, who had, somehow or other, 
 received the fixed idea that Mr. Shepherd 
 could not speak in earnest. 
 
 " I am sorry," replied her neighbour 
 reddening, and wdth some spirit, " that you 
 should think I should take such liberties with 
 you, and especially in regard to people in 
 trouble. ' Gervase,' my good father used to 
 say to me, ' laugh — and laugh heartily when 
 you do laugh: but be a gentleman.' A gen- 
 tleman is always considerate ; — and if I had 
 to teach English in Milan, and had only two 
 pupils, — and if I could not attend to them, 
 because I was desperately ill; and if I had 
 to provide for a sick wife — which, thank God! 
 I have not — I should think it no jesting 
 matter. And Signor Montegrone is quite as 
 good a man in his own country as I — only 
 thank common-sense, and our capital Eng- 
 lish constitution, I am no republican." 
 
 " But you surprise me, sir ! I had no 
 idea that Signor Montegrone was married." 
 
 "He is, however, Mrs. Westwood ; — mar-
 
 THE REFUGEES. 119 
 
 ried, and to a poor, low-spirited, helpless 
 creature, who would not know how to keep 
 the money together, even if he got any ; and 
 who sits all the day crying in their dismal 
 little back parlour in Gerrard Street, Soho, 
 and fancying that every body in the house 
 wants to rob them. — And there he is now, — 
 forced to give up : and not likely to be bet- 
 ter. — I am sure, ma'am, you will join with 
 me in some attempt to help them; and 
 indeed I should have called upon you to- 
 morrow with that object, had I not been for- 
 tunate enough to meet you by chance to- 
 night. — What is the man about there. Light ? 
 Did not you tell him I would not have those 
 folding-doors so far out into the room?" 
 
 ^' I am sure I feel much indebted to you, 
 Mr. Shepherd," said Rosamond, Avith a sin- 
 cere warmth which she would not for the 
 world have had Miss Grace Avitness. ^'I 
 shall be only too glad to be of any use in 
 such a case. I will go myself and see 
 Madame Montegrone to-morrow. What 
 street did you mention?" 
 
 "You shall have the address as soon as 
 ever I get back to my hotel. I would offer 
 to meet you there— for it's a wretched place,
 
 120 HOCCABELLA. 
 
 one hardly fit for a lady to enter — only it 
 would look premeditated ; and, naturally 
 enough, they are very sensitive. Medical 
 aid he has, I know, and of the best kind ; 
 but nothing can be done for him. They 
 say that there is poison in the system which 
 can never be worked out of it.'^ 
 
 "Poison?" 
 
 " Lord ! my dear madam, may I take the 
 liberty of saying how superior to the rest of 
 your sex you must be in the absence of cu- 
 riosity? — Can you never have heard that 
 Sign or Montegrone, and his wife too, firmly 
 believe that he was poisoned in Italy by 
 those Jesuits?" 
 
 " No, I never heard of such a thing. In- 
 deed, Signor Montegrone seemed always to 
 have an objection to speaking ; and never 
 once alluded to his own private history.'' 
 
 ' " That was my very reason for beginning 
 with him as a master, ma'am — the strong 
 objection which I have to talking people. 
 Excellent as Signor Capranico is— the mas- 
 ter, Mrs. Westwood, whom I had the honour 
 of recommending to you — he is too much of 
 a lady's man to suit a downright practical 
 person like me ; and on my pressing for a
 
 THE REFUGEES. 121 
 
 silent, unobtrusive teacher, who would do 
 his work, and confine himself to it — at 
 's they ^axe me Montecn^one." 
 
 Good Mr. Shepherd, it will be owned, had 
 a happy knack of reconciling past and pre- 
 sent, as my wife once happily described the 
 white lies of Miss Adeliza Le Grand. 
 
 '• But^" continued he, '•' I soon perceived 
 that the poor fellow had something upon his 
 mind. You know, ^Irs. Westwood, I doubt 
 not, as well as I, that there is a party here 
 against him, who have been writing anony- 
 mous letters to deter people from employing 
 him. What trash these Italian liberals are, 
 to be sure I — always quarrelling ; and so I 
 set myself to find out what was the matter, 
 and by degrees came to know all about the 
 Montegrones." 
 
 "And vou heard ?" 
 
 " It is rather too long a tale for a balcony 
 — Light ! — (I say, Light, make that man per- 
 fectly understand that that fireplace in the 
 corner is going to be taken away utterly.) 
 If you will allow me, I will wait upon you 
 some morning, and tell you the result of my 
 discoveries — There's Lady Marcia Fawkes 
 ridino: home. T\lio could fancv that she
 
 122 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 had ever considered herself a beauty ? Yet 
 she did, and wondered that other people 
 didn't. Good-evening, Lady Marcia" (kiss- 
 ing his hand gallantly) ; ^' and good-evening, 
 Mrs. Westwood. Pray permit us to be good 
 neighbours ! " 
 
 And the wily man— enchanted at his own 
 adroit management — disappeared into the 
 house. Doors were banged to, and shutters 
 were shut ; and Rosamond was left standing 
 alone on her balcony, at once teased, in- 
 terested, and reminded of Miss Grace Bes- 
 sell's anecdotes. To strive against Mr. 
 Shepherd's advances was obviously lost 
 labour. — She must hear the tale which was 
 too long for the balcony — how else could 
 she help the refugees, wisely — efficiently — 
 and delicately ? for her dream ran on Jesuits, 
 and poison, and old Italian palaces.
 
 A FRIEND IX NEED. 123 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 
 
 Never was habitation less like Italian 
 palace, old or new, than the wretched two 
 rooms in Gerrard Street, Soho, in which a 
 highly-born and honourable gentleman 
 (Signor Montegrone was both) had been 
 thankful to find a harbourage on his arri- 
 val in Eno^land — to commence his struo^crle 
 for life at an age when other men are think- 
 ing of retreat. The sights how different ! — 
 if I do not add sounds and scents, it is because 
 I am told that the speaking voices of the 
 Lombards are not the sweetest in the world 
 — neither their portals and staircases of their 
 houses the most fragrant. But, though both 
 the language-master and his wife were them- 
 selves dingy and unkempt enough, and 
 careless of a hundred little graces and 
 proprieties, their taste for which the well-
 
 124 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 bred English never lose, however low they 
 sink in fortune — the dinginess of the atmo- 
 sphere, and the grime of carpet, chairs, 
 curtains, window-panes — of every thing 
 they touched, tasted, and looked upon — was 
 felt as an additional weight, and trial, and 
 discouragement by even their sad and pre- 
 occupied hearts. — Brought up among things 
 of beauty, the filthy furnishing of a fourth- 
 rate London lodging-house, in a bad situation, 
 degraded them so far they saw it to a point 
 of depression to which we northerns rarely 
 fall. The scorching fire in the grate — the 
 rusty bars whereof were clogged with cinders 
 and ashes, though the day was hot— of itself 
 spoke with a painful significance to our 
 widow. I have said that she was something 
 of a day-dreamer, and to such, contrasts are 
 oftentimes as suggestive as harmonies. — She 
 stopped short within the door of the room : 
 painfully impressed for a moment, forgetting 
 her mission, and the courtesies which she was 
 nervously anxious to offer. 
 
 The poor gentleman — huddled up in a 
 faded dressing-gown, made as it seemed of 
 those Greek scarfs which were then so popu- 
 lar, with a dusty velvet heret on his head—
 
 A FBIEND IN NEED. 125 
 
 looked more ashy, more leaden, more yellow- 
 eyed than ever; — his long reedy neck, and 
 his gaunt hands, released from cuffs, adding 
 to the appearance of lean misery. The 
 Countess Montegrone might have been any 
 age from fifty upwards — so sallow and dry 
 was her cheek — and her black eyes so in- 
 tensely staring as though she had overlooked 
 this weary world as long as the wandering 
 Jew himself. — Her dirty blue and white 
 muslin was but imperfectly clasped at the 
 throat, by an old-fashioned jewel of small 
 value, but unmistakeable pedigree. Her cap 
 of coarse mock-lace would have been despised 
 by Nelkson, when it was new. She had a 
 bluish beard on her upper lip — and she spoke 
 in a harsh contralto voice as she got up, and 
 somewhat brusquely inquired the pleasure 
 of her guest. But Eosamond in that moment 
 felt that she was a lady, and haJ been a 
 beauty ; and our widow reddened like a girl 
 fresh from school, as in faltering bad French 
 she tried to explain, how, having accidentally 
 learned that Signor Montegrone was ill, she 
 had called to inquire after him, and to see 
 whether she could not be of some little use. 
 " I too," said she sweetly, '' am a stranger in
 
 126 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 London, and perhaps hardly know what 
 would be best to propose ; but I feel how 
 sad you must find it to be ill in a strange 
 place " — and out came, awkwardly enough no 
 doubt, an offer of carriage and servants, — the 
 introduction of a basket of the freshest fruit, 
 the sight and scent of which at once refined 
 that squalid room (in spite of the fire) — and 
 out came a stammering inquiry — Whether 
 the signor had good medical advice ? 
 
 " I have told my wife," said the poor gen- 
 tleman, "of the charming young English lady 
 whom I was reading with — She speaks very 
 little French — you will excuse it, madame. 
 Teresa, mia cara^ this is to be in England ! 
 and you have all your life heard it blamed — 
 the ladies especially, for being so cold ! " 
 
 The poor lady made no answer, except 
 her taking Eosamond's hand between her 
 own two, and then raising it to her lips, 
 might pass for reply. In truth she was so 
 crushed, bewildered, disturbed, as to be 
 almost past being cheered. Our widow, 
 meanwhile, felt as much disposed to weep as 
 she had often done in her life ; but was 
 restrained by a sort of cross fear that she 
 was officious and blundering.
 
 A FRIEND m NEED. 127 
 
 She had, Rqsamond made haste to add, 
 a country house — (she ivould have her there, 
 and then inwardly deter aimed a Richmond 
 villa ere the day was out.) Would not 
 the air, the rest, a garden, be good for the 
 invalid ?— for both ? Would they give her 
 the honour of their company there? 
 
 Alas ! her offer fell on dull ears — She 
 was all goodness ; but they had declined 
 another friend already. Mr. Shepherd had 
 proposed change of air the day before ; but 
 they could not go — they had no energy — 
 They were expecting letters — they had 
 friends who depended upon them — claims — 
 business. No, they were obliged — (and here 
 again Rosamond's pretty hand was in request 
 for the grateful lips of the dejected Italian 
 lady) but it could not be, 
 
 "Then," rejoined our widow, her courage 
 rising under defeat, "unless I am to be 
 treated as I do not deserve, you must let me 
 speak plainly to you. — You must allow . . . 
 remittances (I know myself in my husband's 
 lifetime money never came when we expected 
 it) may be delayed ... I have nobody to con- 
 sult but myself Pray " (with a sort of gasp, 
 and spasmodic snatch at her reticule), "treat
 
 128 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 me like a friend, and let me— let me be your 
 banker for awhile. This lodging is not fit 
 for you ! " 
 
 ^'Brava!'' exclaimed the most musical 
 voice ^yhich ever Rosamond had heard — not 
 of course, poor Signor Montegrone's — and 
 looking round in utter dismay at being thus 
 overheard, she then for the first time re- 
 marked a large screen, covered with a tawdry 
 paper-hanger's mosaic, behind which, so well 
 as her beating heart would let her hear, she 
 was aware that some one was moving. But 
 strange are the ideas which shoot through 
 the mind even in such a moment of ner- 
 vous surprise. Rosamond's thought was — 
 " Well, at least, that was not Mr. Shepherd 
 this time." 
 
 '' You had better come out, Salvatore, since 
 the lady has heard you," said Madame Monte- 
 grone. " A dear friend of ours, Mrs. West- 
 wood — a countryman. He is helping my 
 husband, and had just hid himself Avhen you 
 came ; handsonie young men don't like to be 
 seen when they are in their old clothes." 
 
 The hero who emerged in answer to this 
 invocation ivas a handsome young man — if 
 the epithet have any meaning ; or rather,
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 129 
 
 indeed, beautiful he might have been called, 
 in spite of the effeminate signification attached 
 by some to that epithet. In place of those 
 fierce jet Italian eyes which often promise 
 so much more genius than is ever performed 
 by their owner, his were of deep blue; 
 fringed and arched with the glossiest black 
 eyelashes and eyebrows. His forehead was as 
 pale as a woman's, without any appearance of 
 unnatural delicacy — his lips were bright 
 and full: showing, when the symmetrical 
 mouth opened, a range of white and regular 
 teeth. If his features had not that expres- 
 sion of mingled intellect and character which 
 we northern men are accustomed to require 
 in a man — they wore that look of spirit and 
 passion which no woman, at least — be she 
 northern or southern — can resist. There was 
 no mistaking, too, the undisguised yet not 
 impudent admiration, which the lady inspired 
 in this unexpected comer. Rosamond had 
 met that pair of eyes before — she did not 
 
 recollect where. It had been in 's shop, 
 
 on the day when she had gone thither to 
 inquire for a language-master. 
 
 The Adonis in question, it should be added, 
 owed nothing to his dress nor to the occupa- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 tion in which he was discovered. The former 
 was an old blouse which had seen good ser- 
 vice — and a scrutiny more curious than our 
 widow was in any case to give, might have 
 acquainted her that his hands had been 
 intimately engaged in some culinary process 
 — probably, the preparation of macaroni. 
 
 "We poor exiles," said he, laughingly 
 coming forward with a sort of court air, and 
 speaking bad French, " are glad to turn our 
 little talents to account. I could always 
 cook — and I am very glad of it now ; — for 
 really, madame, your London lodging-houses 
 are not famous in that article of comfort." 
 
 "No, truly," chimed in the desolate 
 Italian lady; and then she volubly ran over 
 a list of affectionately-remembered home- 
 dishes — things that, to Rosamond, it seemed 
 strange, could come back to any one wliom 
 privations so much deeper surrounded. But, 
 breaking from her momentary speculation, 
 and turning to the new-comer, " I was endea- 
 vouring," said Mrs. Westwood, "to persuade 
 the count and countess here to change the 
 air of London for a week or two— to try our 
 country air : and, if there be an Italian cook 
 within reach, he shall be at their disposal."
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 131 
 
 " Thank you, madame," said the young 
 gentleman, whose eyes emphasized his words, 
 if ever eyes said aught ; " but what w^ould 
 they do in your country — these ? How amuse 
 themselves ! I am an old friend, and can 
 take liberties ; but I dare not propose such 
 a thing to raadame. She has a friend in the 
 Opera-house who gives her a corner in her 
 box; — and I think the music keeps life in 
 her ! " 
 
 " could those Liverpool people hear 
 this ! " flashed across Rosamond's mind — 
 " Sick, sad, starving, and going to the opera! '' 
 but the plea was obviously in earnest. 
 
 "And Salvatore there," interrupted Sig- 
 nor Montegrone, raising his heavy voice 
 withdifficulty; "ourfriend. Count Roccabella, 
 madame, helps us — we must not go far from 
 him. He is good enough to read with my 
 pupils, for me — till I am better again. I 
 was going to write and entreat you to accept 
 hioi as my substitute ; but my head is so 
 confused that I cannot see paper to-day." 
 
 Rosamond hesitated. Had she declined 
 Signor Capranico for this ? " Why, I con- 
 fess," said the young nobleman, who saw her 
 hesitation, and therefore spoke in a tone
 
 132 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 which told how proud he could be, '' that I 
 would rather cook for my friend here than 
 attend to his scholars — I am a bad master, 
 as madame would find ; Marliani will be too 
 glad to wait upon madame " — and, drawing 
 Montegrone aside, the Count, Rosamond 
 was convinced, was proposing some friendly 
 escape from the arrangement at his — the 
 Count's — expense. 
 
 "I should be truly sorry," said she, at 
 last finding her voice, and blushing more 
 than she wished to do, " to give any ad- 
 ditional trouble — so bad a scholar as I am. 
 If you think it worth while to help such a 
 mere beginner, sir " (the ' sir,' Miss Grace 
 Bessell might have heard), "I will do my 
 best. And as we hope that it may only be 
 for a very short period " 
 
 The handsome young gentleman again drew 
 himself up. Poor Eosamond ! her speech 
 was an awkward one — seemingly so English 
 and ungracious ! and the conviction of this 
 flashed across her mind ere it was well spoken. 
 Accordingly, to do away with such im- 
 pression, she must needs run to the totally 
 opposite extreme. It may be supposed that 
 she was not long in making peace with one
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 133 
 
 who fixed upon her a gaze at once so impas- 
 sioned and frank. And thus, provisionally at 
 least, the handsomest man whom ever Milan 
 saw, and the beautiful widow in Park-street, 
 were, without the one caring to teach, or the 
 other to learn, to sit down and study the 
 story of Paolo and Francesca ! — In one re- 
 spect, Rosamond was contented with the 
 arrangement. Thereby she might learn 
 best how she could serve the Monteo^rones. 
 The poor gentleman Avas so stupid — the poor 
 lady so loudly gesticulating, that an inter- 
 preter betwixt them was an absolute neces- 
 sity. 
 
 But she was haunted by the high manner 
 of the Count Roccabella, and well recollecting 
 how she had writhed when in a subordinate 
 situation under insolences, she forgot that 
 the most womanish of men is less sensitive 
 than the most masculine of women. Did she 
 forget how warmly she had shaken hands 
 with her new acquaintance on their parting? 
 And what made the scene with which my 
 story opens, rise up before her like a cloud, 
 and act itself over again as she drove home- 
 ward ? What made her recollect that 
 harsh, unkindly-spoken, slow-witted, un-
 
 134 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 lovely man with whom she had passed so 
 many years ? 
 
 From her involuntary musings or volun- 
 tary indulgence, she was dragged down in a 
 summary fashion. 
 
 In the hall was Nelkson, " Company up- 
 stairs, me'm ! I thought you would like to 
 know, previous. Company in the drawing- 
 room : people who would not be said — who 
 would wait till you came home; — though, if 
 they have got any real business save to kill 
 time and eat your luncheon, my cousin Anne 
 married one of the Widgeons, instead of 
 giving him the go-by." 
 
 " 0, Miss Bessell ! The very person 1 
 wanted to see — I am truly glad she did stay. 
 You forget yourself, Nelkson." 
 
 And the mistress hurried past the " Well, 
 Tm sure ! " of her astounded maid, with a 
 vivacity such as she had not exhibited since 
 her widowhood had began. " Something 
 she has been about," soliloquized the Abigail 
 — "and how to get into it ; that's just it. I 
 wish Mr. Light would lend me a leaf out of 
 his book — and I'll ask him, if I can, when he 
 comes in to tea ; — for come in to tea he will, 
 as usual, I'll aver."
 
 A FRIEND m NEED. 135 
 
 " Quite a bloom, dear Mrs. Westwood ! " 
 was the greeting of the languid Miss Grace 
 as she raised herself on Rosamond's quick 
 entrance. " How this air agrees with you ! 
 So it does with Lady Marcia, too. From 
 the time she sets foot in Marbleton she pines 
 and loses her sleep. Dr. Ossett maintains 
 it is the lake ; but I think that it is only the 
 activity of her mind, and the powerful 
 reaction after London. And what is there 
 in the country worth living for, dear Mrs. 
 Westwood ? " 
 
 " Abundance of good neighbours," replied 
 Rosamond rather gaily, " who know every 
 step you take, and pass judgment upon it." 
 
 " Just like that Mr. Shepherd. The few 
 times that I have come here — I find him, 
 of course, hovering about. He has nothing 
 to do save to haunt every body .... Lady 
 Marcia says " 
 
 " Except^ to look after his workmen," 
 broke in Rosamond, whose spirits seemed in 
 a sort of hurry. "All this morning he 
 might be heard, as often, I am sure, on a 
 ladder— as not." 
 
 " On a ladder ? Well, nothing surprises 
 me that Mr. Shepherd resorts to, to com-
 
 136 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 pass bis ends. Whose ladder, pray, my 
 dear ? " 
 
 " I am sure I cannot tell you — for till last 
 niglit I never had an idea that we were next 
 door neighbours." 
 
 Nothing could be more comical than the 
 countenance of Miss Grace, betwixt its desire 
 to look cunning, and its real, vacant bewilder- 
 ment. "Next .... door . . . neighbours," 
 was all that she could utter for the moment. 
 " Yes — I rather think — I am confident — I 
 recollect to have heard Lady Marcia say that 
 the next house was Mrs. Poulett Blackett's — 
 before that sad business .... It is a love of a 
 house, Lady Marcia says. Did you go over 
 it ? I forget . . . How very disagreeable to 
 have that forward being so close to one "... 
 
 " So I fear you will find it. Miss Bessell : 
 but for once, I may count upon your good- 
 nature, may I not ? You know I have 
 few friends in London — If I ask two gentle- 
 men to dinner you know I cannot receive 
 them alone, and, if one should be this new 
 neighbour of mine, will you countenance 
 me, just for once. I can explain it all, 
 strange and sudden though it seems. But 
 will you ? "
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 137 
 
 Good, simple Rosamond ! little could she 
 dream how dearly Miss Grace loved her at 
 that moment ! If there was a thing in the 
 world that she enjoyed, it was a partie 
 quarree. " Mama would have been delighted, 
 dear," continued she, '^and be in every 
 respect a greater acquisition than I ; but so 
 long as she is under Dr. Ossett's care, it 
 distresses me to hear of her being asked to 
 dine out ! Friends in town ! Who should 
 have friends if not you, I wonder ? Cordially 
 I will, dear : when is your day ? " 
 
 " And you understand who is to be of the 
 party." 
 
 " My love, if we could not meet every one 
 on the well-bred footing of amenity, what 
 would London become ? Lady Marcia, for 
 instance, dines perpetually at the Toazles, 
 though she refused Sir Nicholas Toazle twice 
 before he married his present wife. These 
 little feelings are to be conquered. ... In 
 society, The Honourable Mr. Tottington and 
 myself converse .... And though we may 
 laugh at one another's little peculiarities (such 
 of us as cannot avoid penetration), I believe 
 Mr. Shepherd to be as honest a creature as 
 ever spoke his mind. A good wife would
 
 138 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 soon have made him in every respect pre- 
 sentable. What other gentleman, pray ?" 
 
 " Why," was the answer as Rosamond 
 turned away to adjust the curtains — " I 
 almost think I must ask you not to betray 
 me to Mr, Bessell, knowing his aversion to 
 foreigners. An Italian gentleman — a Count 
 Roccabella, — a refugee, I believe — that is, 
 if he will come." 
 
 "0, as to papa ! — Papa is known in his 
 own circle as the veriest John Bull. Much 
 as they revere England at Marbleton, Lady 
 Marcia says she could never have conceived 
 that carried so far — O, yes! let us keep our 
 little dinner a secret by all means — I am 
 sure a word will silence Mr. Shepherd. 
 It's just in his way to have confidences with 
 ladies." 
 
 " ]^ay," said Rosamond, " you must not 
 take me so literally. I certainly am a free 
 agent, I hope and trust — and can invite 
 whom I will to my own table. This Count 
 Roccabella is coming to read Italian with 
 me, a substitute for poor Signor Montegrone, 
 who is very ill, and I fear in great poverty. 
 And it is so difficult to be of use without 
 seeming officious — and as I accidentally
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 139 
 
 heard of the circumstance from Mr. Shep- 
 herd" . . . 
 
 "0, indeed! — Yes, to be sure; just like 
 Mr. Shepherd. He has his own ways and 
 means of getting at intelligence. Were I in 
 your position, dear, I should be nervous 
 with such a neighbour as he." 
 
 " Better then, perhaps, to be on good than 
 upon bad terms with him," replied Mrs. 
 Westwood a little archly; since a dream 
 was beojinninor to cross her mind, which she 
 found, in her present buoyant humour, 
 exquisitely whimsical. 
 
 " Good terms ! " was the sharp and in- 
 stant response. " Good terms do not mean 
 encouraging intimacy, I hope and trust — Mr. 
 Shepherd is any thing but a safe man for one 
 in your position, my dear, to receive. We — 
 as Lady Marcia could assure you "... 
 and Miss Grace here made motions with her 
 lips and looked down — a favourite device of 
 hers when matter for talk failed her. 
 
 " But how am I forgetting papa's message 
 — one dinner driving another so completely 
 out of my head ! — I was to tell you, with 
 his love (nay, old gentlemen may be gallant), 
 that your commission is as good as executed,
 
 140 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 and that he wants to see you about some 
 money story connected with it — and begs 
 you will dine with us to-morrow. I hope 
 that does not interfere ? Papa's time is any 
 time." 
 
 " I suspect that he would hardly agree 
 to that assertion, Miss Bessell. He has 
 been only too kind in seeing after this 
 matter, which I have had much at heart : 
 and I shall be glad to say so to-morrow. 
 Our dinner could hardly be this week — but 
 now that I find you will oblige me, I am 
 much tempted to try it. If it fail, I need 
 never give another." 
 
 '^ Quelle idee? Fail, indeed! I have not 
 looked forward with so much pleasure to a 
 dinner this year, my dear. From the first 
 moment that 1 heard the sound of your 
 voice (I am like Lady Marcia, sensitive 
 about voices, I own it), I knew we should 
 suit each other thoroughly."
 
 A PARTIE QUARR^E. 141 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A PARTIE QUARREE. 
 
 By others than Miss Grace this improvised 
 entertainment was regarded as an occasion 
 of peculiar solemnity and importance. 
 
 *' I do hope, and supplicate, me'm," said 
 Nelkson, when the fact of the coming 
 dinner arrived at her domain, — also the 
 certain intelhgence that Mr. Shepherd had 
 rubbed a new pair of gloves into holes, in 
 the fulness of his satisfaction at being invit- 
 ed to sit at the board of the charming 
 widow — " I do beg and represent, me'm, 
 that you'll dine without your cap. Six 
 months is the longest weeds now, me'm, 
 that ladies indulge in ; unless the circum- 
 stances have been peculiarly harrowing. 
 Or if a cap it must be, pray let me make you 
 up something a little less hideous, with one or 
 two quiet cameleons, or other white flowers.
 
 142 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 I don't think that if I had married Mr. 
 Duckling's favourite son (as we say in Flint- 
 shire), and if he had spoiled me ever so 
 much, I could acquiesce in reducing myself 
 into a spectacle because I lost him." 
 
 " I shall make no change, Nelkson," was 
 Eosamond's quiet reply— " Well, me'm, it's 
 superfluously vexatious, I will say, when one 
 thinks of the display that some of us will 
 make. Bare neck enough to thatch a 
 house ! no matter if it's somewhat of the 
 oldest — though white, I admit." 
 
 "l^elkson!" 
 
 "I beg your pardon, me'm; but like that 
 Miss Grace I could not, if all my aunt Eliza's 
 money was to go to the Raggs in consequence. 
 She won't captivate Mr. Shepherd, however, 
 with all her swimming airs and tuneful 
 graces — I can tell her that ! " 
 
 It was impossible for Rosamond to refrain 
 from smiling at this last sally : recollecting 
 as she did the incessant disdain of Miss 
 Grace. But "every little helps," and this 
 toilet gossip, foolish as it was, assisted to 
 fix our heroine's attention on her dinner. 
 She grew nervous, lest she should seem 
 nervous ; and to steady herself she thought of
 
 A PARTIE QUARR^E. 143 
 
 Mrs. Chidley and Mrs. James Eick. For- 
 tunately it fell out, that Miss Grace thought 
 herself called upon to be instructive, which 
 at once brought back our widow to her 
 composure. 
 
 " The Count, of course, will take you 
 down — Mr. Shepherd will sit opposite to 
 you. No foreign gentleman can ever carve. 
 Lady Marcia says that she would rather do 
 it herself a thousand times over, than sit by 
 and see them attempt it." 
 
 " You will be opposite me, I hope. Miss 
 Bessell," was Rosamond's quiet answer. '' In 
 so small a party there can be no formality. 
 Here, I suppose, are the gentlemen ! " 
 
 
 The dinner of four went over pleasantly 
 enough, in spite of all those covert sympathies 
 and antipathies which make such strange 
 work, when they are brought into play among 
 such few persons. Miss Grace was conside- 
 rately sparing of Mr. Shepherd, considering 
 how fervently she had again and again vowed 
 to put him down (with Lady Marcia's full 
 concurrence) on meeting him. At her dear 
 Rosamond's first dinner, the Amazon con- 
 sented to lay by her arms, and to hold out
 
 144 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 the golden sceptre — nay more, she was 
 moved to provoke her favourite aversion, 
 with appeals and courtesies, by the gentle- 
 man's quiet and polite disregard. With 
 Shropshire race-balls did she ply him. She 
 enlightened him as to the plan on which the 
 orchis house at Marbleton was heated — 
 somewhat reckless as to pipe and chimney 
 statistics. — She discovered, for the first time 
 in her life, that bay was her favourite colour 
 in a horse. She dealt side looks of loving 
 patronage at her unsuspicious hostess, ex- 
 pressive of the utmost female amiability. But 
 this beautiful behaviour of hers was in some 
 measure damaged by circumstances. Count 
 Roccabella protested against being asked to 
 talk English; what general conversation there 
 was, therefore, was carried on in French, 
 though Rosamond blushed as she did her 
 best. In the French language, a maidenly 
 and dignified economy of " ouis^' and " est-il 
 possibles f " most neatly suited the acquire- 
 ments of Miss Grace. 
 
 Mr. Sliepherd in his turn proved less 
 obtrusively voluble than he had been de- 
 picted. Eat and drink he did, as a healthy 
 gentleman with a good appetite should do.
 
 A PARTIE QU ARRIVE. 145 
 
 He praised the dishes as much as a well-bred 
 man may do. He talked park to Rosamond 
 and opera to the Count. He expatiated to the 
 purpose and with wonderful amenity upon 
 all the range of charming topics disclosed 
 by Miss Grace. Had our widow been dis- 
 posed to watch him, she might have observ- 
 ed a certain twinkle in his eyes and curl in 
 his lip, which bespoke a general's admiration 
 of his own successful generalship, and as- 
 surance of his final triumph. But Rosamond 
 saw little — and only thought of one solitary 
 person — her right-hand neighbour. 
 
 She was not, however, thinking of his mag- 
 nificent face or musical voice — so much as 
 listening with all her eyes, ears, and heart, to 
 all that he was pouring out about Italy. — 
 They had entered on that subject, ajyvojpos of 
 the Montegrones — but it was the one beyond 
 all other subjects calculated to captivate 
 Rosamond. Women never sympathize with 
 success so passionately as they do with failure. 
 How was she to stop and to sum up the rights 
 and the wrongs of a question which her heart 
 had already decided? — how was she, with a 
 charmer at her ear — so earnest, so enthusi- 
 astic—so different, said her fancy, from "your 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 cold calculating ungenial Englishmen ! " Her 
 very soul was melted within her, at this pic- 
 ture of a foreign nobleman stooping to menial 
 services — and to an equivocal position in this 
 hard cruel London of ours, because he would 
 no longer abide or endure tyranny — banished 
 from the magnificent palaces of his fore- 
 fathers, and from a climate the very breathing 
 of which was luxury, bliss, intoxication . . . 
 Not that Count Roccabella was a show patriot 
 — a man who wears his grievances and his 
 sacrifices on his sleeve, for every daw to peck 
 at. But he had, at last, found a listener so 
 warm, rapt, ready as only Englishwomen 
 can be: — he had at last lighted on chords 
 which had been long waiting to thrill. 
 
 When the four simultaneously established 
 themselves in the drawing-room after dinner 
 (the reconciliation of Nelkson to that foreign 
 procedure required all Mr. lAght'ssavoir vivre) 
 — Rosamond claimed from the Count his 
 promise to tell her how matters really stood 
 with his friends. " Mr. Shepherd," said she, 
 " alluded to something so dark and terrible, 
 that the mind almost refuses to receive such 
 an idea nowadays. Does Signor Montegrone 
 really ascribe his present wretched health
 
 A PARTIE QUARRY. 147 
 
 to the consequences of poison given to him ? 
 Can it have indeed been so — and from no 
 accident ? " 
 
 '' Ascril)e, madam ! " was the reply, with 
 an explosion of emotion — (and Rosamond 
 thought that the face beside her had the 
 grandeur and the animation of that of an 
 avenging Archangel) — "Ascribe! Yes, you 
 in England can speak about these things, as if 
 they were matters of question — and matters 
 of chance. Thank your God that you can ! 
 — Ascribe ! — You, who do not know what a 
 Jesuit is, save in a picture-book, may well ask 
 me about the history, just as if it was one of 
 a party of pleasure. But we cannot answer 
 so — we Italians! — Montegrone was poisoned 
 by those Jesuits, so surely as you are a living 
 woman, and a beautiful one — so surely as 
 that is not the only murder of theirs which I 
 will avenge — before I am an old man, too ! " 
 
 "Mr. Shepherd" . . . broke out a voice, 
 in the most different tone possible :— " You 
 play at chess, don't you ? You used, I 
 think I have heard my papa say, to be a 
 great chess-player. When I sit down with 
 Lady Marcia, I can give her always a pawn 
 or two ; but, if you will engage me " . . . .
 
 148 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 " It goes to my heart, Miss Grace, to de- 
 cline a lady's challenge," replied the gallant 
 master of Shepherdston ; *^ but I am no 
 match for you — in town. If I am to sit 
 down to chess, it must not be after such a 
 luxurious banquet as our fair hostess here 
 has been giving us — in the very midst of the 
 London season, and on a night when there 
 is thunder in the air. Play is play — study, 
 study — I never play at chess .... and 
 (don't think me a bear) I am not equal to 
 work just now. — But I will take up your 
 glove whenever you please, after the long 
 vacation. — May we^ too, not hear your narra- 
 tive, M. le Comte ? " continued he, approach- 
 ing the impassioned Italian. 
 
 "0, pray permit us," chimed in Miss 
 Grace — since chess was not to be. — " What 
 are books — even Mrs. Gore's sweet tales — 
 compared with the romance of real life ! " 
 
 " I am not a raconteur^'' said the Italian, 
 suddenly interrupting himself with that fit- 
 ful haughtiness — that sort of proud, spoiled- 
 child air, which most women would have 
 found so irresistible : " and the young lady " 
 (bowing to Miss Bessell) " would, perhaps, 
 find little to interest her in the story. — I
 
 A PARTIB QUARR^E. 149 
 
 cannot speak of these things like so many 
 romances. A Frenchman could: but they 
 have neither faith nor feeling." — With that 
 the Count rose abruptly, as if he wanted air, 
 and walked to the window, past which flashes 
 of summer liorhtnino: were bes^inninor to 
 glance at tolerably frequent intervals. 
 
 " Did I hear you talk of chess-playing? " 
 said Rosamond, any thing but pleased at 
 the intrusion. " The board and the men 
 are .... Mr. Shepherd, will you do me 
 the favour to rincr ? " 
 
 " Not for a chess-board, Mrs. Westwood. 
 One of the combatants shows the white 
 feather to-night : and well may he do so, 
 when his antagonist is so redoubtable a 
 foe as Miss Grace. . . . Besides, two duetts 
 among a party of four are two too many. 
 — What liojhtnin^!" 
 
 Miss Grace found that her head ached, and 
 that the evening was too airless. Accordingly, 
 disappointed of chess, she bethought herself 
 of other diversions, and sailed majestically to 
 the window — from which Count Roccabella 
 was looking out, rapt in a not very cheerful 
 reverie. A somewhat deep inspiration, not 
 to call it a sigh, failed to arouse his at ten-
 
 150 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 tion ; on which Miss Grace was compelled to 
 set her French in battle array, for the pur- 
 pose of asking the Count " whether he pre- 
 ferred La Bettina or La Carolina, as dancers. 
 Of music," continued the woman of Blooms- 
 bury fashion, "no one speaks or thinks 
 
 more. The best opera is so " and 
 
 Miss Grace — or her French— after ambling a 
 little, came to a full stop. 
 
 " I don't know any thing about your 
 hallet in London, madame," was the Count's 
 cold reply. 
 
 Hard to bear as the Count's ''''Madame'" 
 was. Miss Grace, nevertheless, was rehearsing 
 such other overtures and topics as might prove 
 sympathetic and fascinating to the Italian: 
 such also as, perhaps, might bring Mr. Shep- 
 herd back with some due sense of his loss, and 
 her condescension. But she had not finished 
 preparing a clumsy platitude about Dante, 
 to the effect that he was " a great writer," 
 when the victim addressed, turning the full 
 gaze of his lustrous eyes upon her, and 
 aware, so it seemed, of her aggressive inten- 
 tions, burst from her with a sweeping bow, 
 and an impatient frown — and, without formal 
 good night to Rosamond or Mr. Shepherd,
 
 A PARTIE QITARR^E. 151 
 
 and almost to the overthrow of Nelkson, 
 who chanced (as frequently happened) to be 
 on the staircase — was gone ; — gone, with the 
 tale of the Jesuit and the poisons — untold; 
 — gone, before the three persons left behind 
 could look at each other — two of them more 
 amazed than edified by his impetuosity. 
 
 " Your new friend seems a rather violent 
 person, my dear," said Miss Grace ; -with a 
 swan-like toss of her neck, and a recovery 
 from the same, as though she would eat her 
 own bouquet — " Lady Marcia has again and 
 again remarked, that she never met an Italian 
 with any conversation : and your Count Roc- 
 cabella seems to add to his accomplishments 
 in that respect, a want of manner which . . 
 
 perhaps" (coiling herself up and 
 
 down for a death-blow) " papa would say is 
 republican." 
 
 " He is, at all events," said Mr. Shepherd, 
 who seemed to take pleasure in contradicting 
 Miss Grace, *^the handsomest man I ever 
 saw. — The Roccabellas have been always 
 known, throughout Lombardy, for their 
 beauty as a family." 
 
 '' You see, my dear," whispered Miss 
 Bessell, edging herself close to Rosamond ;
 
 152 KOCCABELLA. 
 
 *' it is who but ive can judge ! You don't 
 think Count Eoccabella handsome, I am 
 sure. Lady Marcia detests that style of man 
 — but see, whenever we can bring in a 
 word about our Italian travels, any occasion 
 of laying down the law is never lost! — I 
 would not live next door to Mr. Shepherd, 
 my dear, for any bribe." 
 
 " Why" — replied our heroine, with a quiet 
 and ambiguous smile, — " the next house is 
 a better one than this " . . . . 
 
 " But " — was Rosamond's soliloquy when 
 all was over, and when Mr. Shepherd had, 
 after some lingering, taken leave, and when 
 Miss Grace had been despatched eastwards ; 
 — " I will not be cheated out of my story of 
 the Count Montegrone and the Jesuits. I 
 do not wonder that he could not tell it when 
 they were by." And in the secret of her own 
 heart, our widow that evening made a cross 
 opposite to Miss Grace Bessell's name, very 
 nearly as black as Nelkson's mark of criti- 
 cism. 
 
 " Though it would make my mother out a 
 Baxter to profess the contrary," said the 
 Abigail, when she attended her lady, '^ I 
 should persist in declaring that gown of Miss
 
 A PARTIE QUARRY. 153 
 
 BesselPs a blue ugly enough to turn milk 
 sour. — And she did not find her dinner to 
 her liking; which is a comfort! — I heard her 
 humming to herself, 'Come, where the aspens 
 quiver,' all the way down-stairs — and which 
 means that she was in a bad humour and 
 wanted to hide it, so sure as my name is 
 not Higgins — when she set off a-singing."
 
 154 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE GOOD FAIRY. 
 
 While Rosamond was thus counting ex- 
 periences, with which no previous training 
 had qualified her to cope, we Bells had good, 
 grateful reason to enjoy the magic of her 
 wealth, and therefore to imagine — foolishly 
 enough, possibly — that its owner must be 
 the happiest woman in the world. 
 
 It was the close of a hot summer day ; 
 business was slack, and people were sickly. 
 A small venture in which I had embarked 
 more money than was prudent, threatened 
 to take bad ways — and the apprehension of 
 loss, I have remarked, is always far worse to 
 bear than the loss itself when that comes. My 
 wife had that lead coloured hue, which cries 
 for change of air as loud as a complexion can 
 cry — and there was no treating her with 
 change. My lame boy was visited by a fit
 
 THE GOOD FAIRY. 155 
 
 of desponding perversity. Our little Martha 
 looked pale and depressed; and spoke in a 
 measured voice — sure sign that she was 
 trying to keep down irritability. Rumours 
 had been out all day, that the anti-manu- 
 facturing ministry was coming in. When 
 our windows were opened, the drains of the 
 neighbourhood were offensively perceived. 
 The milk for our tea had turned sour, and 
 I made a cross and utterly incoherent 
 remark upon it, to the effect that " nobody 
 had taken any trouble to make any one pro- 
 perly comfortable, since Rosamond had gone 
 up to London ! " 
 
 My wife's tart answer was ready — and 
 who knows how far we might have gone, 
 had it been emitted — when the knock of 
 Louis, our girl Martha's betrothed, was 
 heard at the door. Louis had long ceased to 
 be treated as '' company" in Halcyon Row: 
 but it was a relief to be obliged to put our 
 tempers upon their company " behaviour." 
 
 A glance at his face told us that he 
 brought some surprising news. Across the 
 room he walked, without saying " good even- 
 ing " to myself or my wife — right across the 
 room to our Martha: and ere she could
 
 156 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 speak to him, her mouth was stopped by a kiss, 
 as emphatic as it was public — a kiss which 
 might have been heard at Number Three, 
 supposing that any of our quick-eared next 
 door neighbours had (as usual) been listening. 
 
 ^'Name the day, Martha!" cried Louis 
 with a hilarity which some would have 
 thought unbefitting the church — " Name the 
 day, Mrs. Bell ! . . . You know what I have 
 been so long promised as soon as I should 
 get a curacy. When shall it be ? I have 
 got — got . . . No, I have got no curacy ! — 
 She has given me a vicarage". . . . and 
 Louis fairly burst into tears. 
 
 I cannot pretend to write down the Babel 
 of tongues — the positive squall of inquiry, 
 concur at ulati on, wonder, miso^ivino; and ec- 
 stasy, which burst from my wife, my son, 
 my daughters — even from our eldest, who is 
 a deaf, dear apathetic girl — and from three 
 or four miscellaneous youngsters whom there 
 is no need to name. 
 
 " When you will let me speak ? " cried 
 Louis at last. ..." I will tell you if you 
 have not guessed — Your cousin — dear Mrs. 
 Westwood — here's her letter." 
 
 *' Greater excitement instantaneously fol-
 
 THE GOOD FAIRY. 157 
 
 lowed this announcement : a louder outcry. 
 There was some danger that the document 
 announcing the fairy gift might be torn in 
 pieces — so eager were the contending hands 
 — so violent the conflict of " Let me /" " Dear 
 Bosamorid r^ ^'Heaven bless her!'' — and like 
 rapturous outbreaks. But they presently 
 merged into the general cry of " Martha ! 
 the letter belongs to Martha— Let Martha 
 read it aloud." 
 
 Now ray little grave daughter was shy — 
 even in her own family ; but she had been 
 brought up to do what was desired from her, 
 and her voice trembled more than ever — 
 no wonder— as she took up the paper and 
 began : — 
 
 " Dear Cousin Louis, 
 
 (Here I stopped a gush from my wife, 
 moved by the sweet, relation-like address,) 
 
 "The Vicarage of Grayhouse — some- 
 where in Yorkshire or Lancashire (you know 
 I am no geographer) — has fortunately " {acci- 
 dentally had been scratched out) " fallen into 
 my gift. Will you oblige me by taking 
 possession of it — that is, if you are still dis- 
 posed to be my cousin — and to bestow it on
 
 158 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 Miss Martha Bell. I think I was told, when 
 I was in Manchester, that some doubts with 
 respect to preferment hindered you both 
 from making two people very happy — God 
 bless you !— Affectionately yours, 
 
 " Rosamond Westwood." 
 
 " Dear — good — delightful — generous Rosa- 
 mond ! " was the simultaneous cry. " She 
 has done it on purpose," was my wife's re- 
 mark — incoherent, howsoever natural. 
 
 "But where is Gray house ? — not in Nor- 
 thumberland, I hope ! " 
 
 Louis was ready, there and then, with his 
 geography. — Grayhouse was on the edge of 
 the Fells, he explained, about thirty-five or 
 thirty-seven miles from Manchester: in a 
 warm, quiet, sheltered nook. The vicarage 
 was an excellently good one — worth from 
 three to four hundred a-year; besides a 
 beautiful house, and a delightful garden. 
 
 I saw the large slow tears chasing each 
 other, one by one, down my little daughter's 
 face. She never had much to say ; neither 
 when she was very happy, nor when she was 
 greatly in pain . . . but she looked across 
 half timidly at Louis, with a smile of such
 
 THE GOOD FAIRY. 159 
 
 full contentment and perfect happiness, that 
 I felt not only that our own choice had from 
 the first been right — but also that our child 
 was entirely satisfied as to her own future. 
 
 Yes — Rosamond had put one of her 
 favourite day-dreams into execution. She 
 had made two human creatures, radiantly — 
 exquisitely happy, and at the moment when 
 they least expected it ; — when they could not 
 entertain any expectation that their cares or 
 fortunes were recollected by any one. How 
 we spent the rest of the evening, which had 
 commenced so dismally, I need hardly de- 
 scribe. 
 
 My wife was particularly wordy on this 
 occasion, — betwixt her pride and her cau- 
 tions, and her joviality, and her curiosity ; 
 and her fixed resolution to trample upon the 
 Misses Le Grand who had disparaged the 
 match, and her own protestations against any 
 intentions expressed or understood of dark- 
 ening the prospects of her beloved children 
 by interference. — How many times she sent 
 her love to Mrs. Marshall, the mother of 
 Louis, I shall not pretend to count. Then 
 she wandered away into domestic and rural 
 suggestions : told some frantic tale of gains
 
 160 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 derived from bee-keeping, to which she 
 heroically proposed that our Martha's pin- 
 money should be restricted, — was self-con- 
 tradictory on the number of maids which 
 appearance would demand, and prudence 
 forbid — with a digression towards " a trea- 
 sure" such as she understood the cousin of 
 Mrs. l^elkson to be. And Avith that name, 
 down came, as though it had been pulled 
 with a string, a positive shower of grateful 
 and loving words, about that ^^ dear, dear 
 Rosamond ! " Who could have expected 
 such thoughtfulness from her? — But no 
 munificence could surprise from that source! 
 And then to think of the darling's noble, for- 
 giving temper — after all the things against 
 " Woman's emancipation " to which she had 
 been treated in our house ! — and after our 
 having refused to give her Martha for her 
 companion ! — It was unheard of ! — It was 
 splendid I It would give Mrs. Rick a fit of 
 bilious fever ! And would not she and Mrs. 
 Chidley abuse us when they got together ? 
 ! there was never any thing in the world 
 so delightful — so perfect in every respect. 
 And to think of Grayhouse being only 
 forty miles from Halcyon Row ! It would
 
 THE GOOD FAIRY. 161 
 
 be less than a step, when the railroad was 
 made. 
 
 It was far in the night before the passion 
 of amazement and happiness had subsided. 
 With the morning came — not counsel, but a 
 letter, long and a little incoherent, from our 
 child's benefactress, addressed to my wife. 
 That good woman, however, was loth that 
 any one should read the epistle besides her- 
 self. Rosamond — said she mysteriously — 
 was not one of those whose productions 
 were intended to be shown — Quite the con- 
 trary. When she wrote in spirits — she 
 
 made use of expressions sometimes 
 
 " In short," was Mrs. Bell's conclusion, " the 
 best method of not being tempted is to get 
 beyond temptation — and so, my love, without 
 waiting your good pleasure, I burned Rosa- 
 mond's letter — and have forgotten every word 
 that was in it; yes, I have ! She's a good, 
 affectionate, imprudent, divine creature, that 
 Rosamond — and I would give any thing " . 
 
 and off went my wife into a flood 
 
 of hysterical tears, which she only wiped up 
 to talk about Martha's weddin":. 
 
 This was enough, it will be owned, to 
 make any parent anxious : and, if I fancied, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162i EOCCABELLA. 
 
 for a day or two, that my girl's good-luck 
 might prove one of those fairy gifts which 
 have the bad trick of turning into trash, 
 who can wonder? — I felt that I should be 
 better satisfied when I had seen Gray- 
 house with my own eyes. And, heedless 
 of the construction put upon the proceeding 
 by my wife, who insisted (according to her 
 habit) that I only wanted an excuse for a 
 ramble — to Grayhouse I went. 
 
 I was charmed with what I saw there. 
 The place looked as little like fairyland, and 
 as much like a home for real, cheerful, mor- 
 tal happiness as ever spot that I beheld. 
 The vicarage stands high up, in a notch of 
 the hills; a low grey house, with a very 
 large porch, in the midst of a flower-garden, 
 canopied by about a score of tall fir-trees, so 
 old that their bare stems are many a yard 
 higher than the roof top; thus allowing the 
 freest circulation of air. Some quarter of a 
 mile lower down the brow, close by the 
 brook, which swells into a torrent after 
 rain, is the little old church — like the 
 vicarage, warded by fir-trees — and ap- 
 proached by half a dozen paths, which creep 
 up and over the moorland; the end of more
 
 THE GOOD FAIRY. 163 
 
 than one of which is a substantial grange or 
 homestead — or some other oasis of trees, 
 shelterino; its cluster of cottaojes. Those 
 who stand at the vicarage gate overlook a 
 wide and busy plain dotted with villages — 
 a gentleman's seat or two, belonging to past 
 times— and here and there a factory chim- 
 ney, which, supposing it called an obelisk, 
 might be admired as an object. — The place at 
 once charmed me : it looked so breezy, but 
 not bleak — and I could fancy our child 
 sitting in the windows of her pretty parlour, 
 as her fingers sewed, letting her mind roam 
 over all that valley view — and all the human 
 life and activity which it comprehended. 
 But I was obliged to tell Mrs. Bell on my 
 return, that as regarded Martha's keeping of 
 bees, I feared she must make up her mind to 
 some disappointment. — There must be a 
 crook in every lot! — So ill was my jest 
 taken, that, siDce that day, we have avoided 
 the subject of honey — and also that of 
 Rosamond's letter to Mrs. Bell, which no 
 one was allowed to read. 
 
 There was nothing unreal about Grayhouse 
 — no obstacle to the induction of Louis 
 Marshall into its occupancy as vicar. We
 
 164 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 perceived, too, with pleasure, that he was 
 one of those persons whose nature success 
 expands and softens. His happiness, my wife 
 declared, made him handsome, besides taking 
 away that dry and pedantic air which had 
 been apt to try our patience. Till then, he had 
 been rather more violently disposed towards 
 politics than young clergymen should be — 
 but the sense of his new responsibilities 
 seemed to drive out the spiritof wranglingand 
 setting-to-rights, which we had feared might 
 play tricks with our little Marthas happi- 
 ness. He was bent on being a wise and 
 kind parish priest— on living an active life, 
 for the good of others — but still on enjoying 
 life for himself a little. Our daughter one 
 day quietly told him, that she believed he had 
 only one drawback to his perfect satisfaction, 
 which was that there was no Saint Rosamond. 
 *'But, Louis," she added gravely, ''we must 
 never let our gratitude grow old : some day 
 or other it may stand her in stead — far above 
 us as she is now. Must she not be asked to 
 the wedding, mother ? " How could any of 
 us foresee — save my Mrs. Bell, who always 
 declares that she is never surprised at any 
 thing — what would be passing in Eosamond's
 
 THE GOOD FAIRY. 165 
 
 mind ; even before the early days of Octo- 
 ber, for which the wedding was fixed, and 
 the favour of her gracious presence requested ? 
 The day of our receiving the news of Martha*3 
 good fortune, was the day anticipated with 
 such animation by Miss Grace Bessell — to 
 quote that lady's own words — the day of 
 Mrs. West wood's first dinner.
 
 166 * , EOCCABELLA. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE SUBLIME AND THE KIDICULOUS. 
 
 So rapid — so rude had been Count 
 Roccabella's departure, that Rosamond 
 thought it possible he might find some 
 excuse to absent himself when the lesson - 
 day came round again ; and when, instead 
 of being a guest, he was to wait upon her 
 as a teacher. — Roccabella, however, came at 
 the appointed hour, but so proud and for- 
 bidding was his manner when he entered, 
 that his pupil almost wished he had stayed 
 away. " Dante, I think, you were reading 
 with my friend Montegrone ? " he began at 
 once, after a very cold greeting; "■ will you 
 show me where you stopped ?" 
 
 " Not to-day," said Rosamond, laying her 
 hand on the book with a smile, " we will not 
 read to-day — you shall talk to me in Italian, 
 instead; and I will try to understand you.
 
 THE SUBLIME AND THE RIDICULOUS. 167 
 
 That is a good exercise, is it not? You 
 know," continued she, with her own per- 
 suasive look, " that I depend on you for the 
 story of poor Sign or Montegrone's misfor- 
 tunes. I love Italy — I have plenty of time 
 — plenty of money. What better can I do 
 than use them in a good cause ? — but if I am 
 not to use them as a stranger, which means 
 awkwardly or mischievously, you must trust 
 me — and you may, I think, without fear of 
 harm." 
 
 "Harm!" was the answer, in a fervent 
 tone, which no l^orthern could ever emulate, 
 "harm from you!" — and, yielding to the 
 impulse of the moment, Count Eoccabella 
 bowed over her hand and kissed it. 
 
 " My tale would give you no pleasure," he 
 continued, his countenance again becoming 
 stormy. " You would not believe it — you 
 would make light of it — and that I could not 
 bear 1 No, no ! we Italians had better not 
 speak of our sufferings ; you Northerns will 
 not feel for us — you cannot understand us ! 
 you are so proud, so happy, in your own 
 security. But take care, take care ! it may 
 fail you one day." 
 
 It was not easy to interrupt such a torrent
 
 168 RCCCABELLA. 
 
 of eniotion — even to assure the speaker that 
 he JLido^ed the Enprlish harshly; or, if not the 
 English in general, my heroine in particular. 
 But Rosamond was seen, if she was not 
 heard. Her glistening eyes testified for her; 
 and (perhaps) encouraged by them, Count 
 Koccabella began his story in an excited, 
 broken fashion which defies the reporter's 
 art. 
 
 The story sounded in Rosamond's ear like 
 a tale of another world — a world of corn 
 and wine, of fig-trees and olives — of rich 
 palace-gardens smiling by the side of deep 
 waters, of belfries high up the hills, of chest- 
 nut woods, among the roots of which clear 
 brooks hurried down to join some mountain 
 stream — a world in which, bright above and 
 beyond all, shone the peaks of snow Alps, 
 telling of another country, and another 
 climate without their magical barrier. ^' You 
 cannot conceive the beauty of our lakes," 
 said Count Roccabella. " I have seen yours, 
 and can make the comparison. — What a sun 
 we have there ! At my father's palace, on 
 the I ake of Como, we children used to live 
 all the day long in the plane-tree walk, close 
 by the ^\ater-side. If it rained, the leaves
 
 THE SUBLniE AND THE RIDICULOUS. 169 
 
 were so thick that we felt no rain. And 
 then our gardens ! We have not all your 
 quantity of neat, damp, green grass to make 
 us miserable; — but we have oleander-trees 
 and roses, and American creepers growing 
 up to the top of the cypresses, and marble 
 statues and marble steps coming down to 
 the water's edge; and cradle-walks, covered 
 with such vines ! I must not talk about 
 my country ; it is not living to endure exis- 
 tence elsewhere, when one thinks of such a 
 home, and remembers that one is shut out 
 of it by those German swine! — But they 
 shall pay for it — they shall ! " and the 
 speaker dashed a few drops from his eye- 
 lashes as, abruptly changing his tone, he 
 said, " Let us read Dante." 
 
 ^' May I not, then, hear the story of your 
 friend Count Montcgrone?" said Rosamond 
 timidly. " I love so to hear about Italy." 
 
 '' It kills one to speak of our country 
 under such a sombre, leaden climate as 
 yours. And so easily could we be happy 
 there, if those despots and priests would let 
 us ! The Montegrones would never have 
 joined in the movement but for their being 
 never employed — but for tlieir having been
 
 170 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 perpetually thwarted, set aside, interfered 
 with — and all this merely because the head 
 of the family — him you know — happened to 
 be an enlightened and cultivated man, who 
 had no love of going to confession, and who 
 spoke his mind sometimes about those 
 ' brutal Germans/ There were two brothers, 
 and a sister — Aurelia. Your friend was 
 nearly twenty-five years older than the two 
 others. They were both of them magnifi- 
 cently beautiful, Aurelia especially, when she 
 was a girl. If you were not an English- 
 woman, you would have a passionate look 
 in your eyes, reminding me of what hers was, 
 before she was destroyed." 
 
 "Destroyed 1" 
 
 " Your voice, too, when you speak in 
 earnest, reminds me of my poor Aurelia's. 
 Yes, destroyed she was ! the life ground out 
 of her heart by those priests ; practised upon, 
 till she became an idiot in their hands. They 
 early found that — since she was forbidden to 
 marry where , . , we were to have been 
 
 married once 1 she would listen to 
 
 no suitor of her priest's choosing. — They had 
 their man ready, but she would not hear his 
 name mentioned — and since she durst not
 
 THE SUBLIME AND THE RIDICULOUS. 171 
 
 marry where they forbade, she said she would 
 be a nun. That pleased them just as well : any 
 thing that broke up the family — any thing 
 that moved an influence out of their way ! 
 
 " This first roused up the Count, her eldest 
 brother — he might else have read his Rous- 
 seau by the lake side to the end of his life — 
 and have done nothing — being a scholar by 
 nature. He was much attached to m^ — we 
 were neighbours — and he had let me play 
 about him after my father's death as if I had 
 been his own child . . He was very fond 
 of his beautiful sister, and would have made 
 her read with him (liis wife yonder was 
 never a companion) — only that, too, of 
 course, those priests would not allow." 
 
 "Would not allow! Good heavens!" 
 exclaimed Rosamond, indignantly — "And he 
 allowed their ' ivoiild not allow!' — the head 
 of a family." 
 
 "You know nothing about it, madam! 
 though I do not wonder at your beautiful 
 anger! — As if you could understand how 
 those vermin, when once they have made a 
 home in a house, will never quit it till they 
 have humbled it, or revenged themselves ! 
 Allow ! — That man — their priest — had
 
 172 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 taught Aurelia to read—he had closed the 
 eyes of Aurelia's mother when she died. 
 There was not a servant about the place that 
 was not afraid of him — yet that did not love 
 him. A meek-looking creature he was, with 
 a smile like an angers — who crept in and 
 out, nobody knew where or when — he was 
 so quiet. Montegrone could not have pre- 
 vented his sister from going to mass — and 
 he would not if he could. They told him 
 what would come of his liberality : but 
 liberal he would be, throughout— liberal, 
 even to bigotry. The fool ! — and dearly has 
 he paid for it ! 
 
 "But he made some attempts to get poor 
 Aurelia out of their power. I was proud and 
 passionate— I would not speak ! She was 
 sensitive — and listened to their diabolical 
 advice all the more easily, because my family 
 was rich and hers was ruined. So she 
 thought herself generous in giving me up. — 
 And this wei<ihed with them all: but Mon- 
 tegrone did try — he did talk to her about her 
 melancholy ways — took her to Milan: wanted 
 to carry her to Paris : — and would have 
 done so, only just then he had to attend to 
 Camillo's atiairs, too. Camillo was their
 
 THE SUBLIME AND THE RIDICULOUS. 173 
 
 brother, a fine dashing fellow, who laughed 
 at the priests — but as he did not read, and 
 led a wild life, being in the army, it made 
 no matter. — They let him laugh on as he 
 liked : for those people are as subtle as they 
 are stupid — and yet the idea of a Montegrone 
 joining the Carbonari^ never occurred to any 
 one among them as possible. So they con- 
 tented themselves with flinging all sorts of 
 temptation in Camillo's way — and making him 
 as profligate as they could. — You may well 
 turn red, madam ! to hear of such vileness ; 
 even I, who am no saint, dare not tell you 
 half that those holy men dare do. . . . By 
 and bve their time will come! Camillo 
 gambled : he intrigued : wherever he went he 
 was famous for his debauchery as well as for 
 his beauty. It was on this account that his 
 brother would not go to Paris. There was a 
 certain Marchesa Delia Brian za from whom 
 Camillo was not to be detached — a fiend in 
 human form — a spy of the Austrians. She 
 had literally flung herself at Camillo, and 
 
 I forget myself . . . One must 
 
 speak so cautiously in England : because you 
 have no great crimes or great passions in 
 your country."
 
 174 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 Eosaraond could not justify her country- 
 women ; but Count Roccabella's slightly 
 contemptuous tone gave her a pain, not 
 unlike an echo of some of her former secret 
 thoughts and discontents. 
 
 " The Marchesa,'' continued the narrator, 
 " it was settled by those priests, was to make 
 sure of Camillo — to occupy him so, that no free 
 influence could reach him. As for Aurelia, 
 the delay in her journey to Paris was pro- 
 vidential — an answer to their prayer. She 
 would not yet escape them ! So when the 
 Count and Countess Montegrone absolutely 
 invited the Delia Brianza down to their villa 
 for the summer, and Camillo with her — the 
 priests were satisfied that every thing was in 
 a right train. Let the dreaming Montegrone 
 try his strength against her and them — it 
 would occupy his time and prevent him from 
 doing mischief. They knew which was the 
 strongest." 
 
 " But am I to believe, really," interrupted 
 good, simple Rosamond, crimsoning intensely 
 with emotion — " that such things are done — 
 that such people exist ? " 
 
 " As priests ? " was Count Roccabella's 
 answer — in the bitterest tones of mortal
 
 THE SUBLIME AND THE RIDICULOUS. 175 
 
 sarcasm. " I dare say you have hypocrites 
 or schemers even in this pure, cold, calcu- 
 lating England of yours — even in what you 
 call your church ! — Yes ; the thing was as I 
 tell you. Down they all came together, to 
 our lake, to pass the summer. I was away — 
 
 since I did not wish to meet since 
 
 under the circumstances I thought that 
 Aurelia might be distressed to see me ! — and 
 to fill my mind, and to divert my thoughts 
 from preying upon themselves, I had flung 
 myself into the cause ! So chance rules every 
 thing! and if I serve my Italy — what 
 matters the misery which broke all human 
 ties and flung me into her service ! Hearts 
 that bleed have little fear of the battle field, 
 or the rack or the scaff'old ! " And once 
 more, tears — tears which Rosamond saw 
 that her fiery guest was struggling to repress 
 — ^glistened in those wonderful Italian eyes. 
 She half repented of her curiosity, when she 
 . saw how much its gratification cost her 
 visiter. 
 
 " I continued writing to Montegrone," 
 resumed Count Roccabella, for I knew he 
 was sorry for me, and would be glad to 
 know that I was bracing up my mind with
 
 176 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 noble purposes, and for our country's good ; 
 and by degrees that quiet, shy, learned, 
 thoughtful man, began to write more and 
 more warmly to me about the cause : less 
 and less like a bystander. Perhaps he may 
 have begun to speak unguardedly in his family 
 circle. If so, the Delia Brian za of course 
 heard, and reported what she heard, to her em- 
 ployers. They decided, no doubt, that the case 
 was one to be dealt with peremptorily ! — She 
 had her instructions. If the calm spirit of 
 the elder brother was but a little further en- 
 kindled — that of her Camillo, too, might take 
 fire ! He was already nearly satiated with 
 aimless pleasure ; she might lose him, and 
 she did not intend to lose him yet. So 
 Montegrone was to be silenced — indulged 
 with other subjects of contemplation — made 
 stupid. His mind was to be killed — she 
 was to set about it at once ; — she did so. It 
 
 was one evening late in the summer." 
 
 " I beg you'r pardon, me'm ! " said ISTelk- 
 son speaking quickly, though she opened the 
 door so quietly as to make Eosamond start, 
 " I beg your pardon, me'm, owing to Gros- 
 smithhaving stepped out with Mr. Shepherd's 
 valley ! But Miss Grace Bessell is below,
 
 THE SUBLIME AND THE RIDICULOUS. 177 
 
 and, having seen Count Roccabella's hat, she 
 says that, since you are not alone, she is sure 
 you will see her. And up she is ! — Here 
 is Miss Grace Bessell !" 
 
 " Pray, dear, make no ceremony with me ! " 
 said the languid lady, making a large circuit 
 as she entered, and then sinking theatrically 
 into an easy-chair with a magnificent smile 
 of melancholy affability, shed full on Count 
 Roccabella— "Pray, dearest, if you have 
 not finished reading Dante — read on. Rest 
 I must, and rest I never find any where 
 such as I find in this delicious chair. 
 What can take Lady Marcia to Marbleton 
 I can't conceive, on a day like this : she who 
 hates hot weather so ! Why, you, with 
 merely sitting over your Italian, look flushed 
 and overheated — nest ce pas ? » Signer 
 ixoccabella ? " 
 
 " You wished to see me," said Rosamond, 
 with some difficulty mustering her presence 
 of civility — and not, it must be confessed, 
 mustering it with any very good effect. 
 
 " My love, we were all getting uneasy 
 about your seclusion : since the day of that 
 exquisite little dinner. We were sure that 
 soiijcthing must be the matter with you ! 
 
 VOL. 1. ^
 
 178 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 Papa, too — you cannot conceive what a 
 favourite you are grown with papa — has 
 three times said to me — ' Grace, go and see 
 after Mrs. Westwood — I am afraid she must 
 be ill. Pray, Count Roccabella, do not move. 
 I am distressed to have deranged the lesson : 
 and am going in an instant ! " 
 
 " When can you come again ?" said Rosa- 
 mond, looking steadily at Miss Grace, while 
 she held out a friendly hand to the Italian. 
 " To-morrow ? Your time I know is pre- 
 cious ; but pray, come again to-morrow if 
 you can — and we will finish the passage." 
 
 " My love," began Miss Grace almost ere 
 the door had closed — and ambling as she sat 
 with airs and graces more sweeping than 
 usual — " What loould censorious people say, 
 if they had seen that smile of yours ? Indul- 
 gence itself! — and, if other people should 
 fancy it, even something beyond indulgence, 
 who can blame them, dearest ? " 
 
 Never was there beauty less fitted to 
 bandy faded compliments and pointless jokes 
 than Rosamond. She had no more sprightly 
 answer at command than an inquiry after 
 Miss Bessell, the invalid — soon answered; a 
 second after Mrs. Bessell, answered as briefly ;
 
 THE SUBLIME AND THE RIDICULOUS. 179 
 
 and a third after " her kind legal adviser," 
 for Rosamond did feel that Mr. Bessell meant 
 to be kind to her in his legal and advising 
 way. 
 
 " Papa is as well as an overworked man 
 can be, my dear : taking interest in every 
 thing and in every body, as usual — and just 
 now, so uneasy about you. I must soften 
 that sweet parting smile of the Count's when 
 I give a report of my call to him." 
 
 "Uneasy — what can make Mr. Bessell 
 uneasy about me ? " 
 
 " My love, we all know what the old 
 school is. Often and often have Lady 
 Marcia and myself combated papa's whole- 
 sale antipathy to foreigners, though Lady 
 Marcia is selectness personified. Some of 
 them are really interesting people. But since 
 that esclandre at the Tatts' — combat we 
 may in vain. Papa warned Mrs. Tatt to be 
 cautious in admitting so many refugees ; and 
 we see what a sad business has come of it." 
 
 " 0, I understand!" said Rosamond with 
 a little blush as usual — at once roused and 
 composed by the innuendo. " You mean that 
 Mr. Bessell would disapprove of my forming 
 any foreign friendship. What has been the
 
 180 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 sad business which is to serve for example ? 
 — I don't think I have ever heard you 
 mention the name of the family." 
 
 " The Tatts ? — Why, we avoid the name 
 now : and even when we did visit, though they 
 were neighbours, we never knew them well. 
 People far too eccentric for our tastes. — Mrs. 
 Tatt was always putting forward her 
 daughters to let down their hair and act in 
 charades ; and I saw her set up for a Sybil 
 herself, in a tableau^ long after her youngest 
 grandchildren — Mr. Hampden Tatt's, I mean 
 — were born. Then they were oftener at 
 the Turkish embassy than even mamma 
 thought becoming ; since indeed, neither Lady 
 Marcia or myself could give our verdict to 
 the Odalisque style of society. Only think of 
 their affording to such a person as Mr. Shep- 
 herd occasion to say, that, cheap as they 
 were, no Mussulman would buy then). — Such 
 strange and conspicuous women ! — Clarinda 
 Tatt had a painting-room, and a real skeleton 
 instead of a lay figure, and it stood in the 
 windows, sometimes with a shawl over it — 
 sometimes with none; so shocking, love, you 
 know ! Then she was particularly fond of 
 taking portraits of all her friends. Now, to
 
 THE SUBLIME AND THE RIDICULOUS. 181 
 
 stare for half an hour together in any gentle- 
 man's face is, I am sure . . . ." (and here 
 Miss Grace ambled again, unable to blush.) 
 '^ The Tatts were, at all events, quite too 
 much for us ; and from the tiuie when Por- 
 phyria contradicted papa at his o^vn table 
 about the influence of the Duke in the Penin- 
 sula — we began to draw out of the acquaint- 
 ance. People were there always whom 
 nobody knew: strange men, with names 
 ending in etti and isky — cooks and couriers 
 out of place, Mr. Shepherd says. Porphyria 
 Tatt (by the way) would have been very 
 glad to be Mrs. Shepherd." 
 
 Rosamond sighed : — simply because the 
 flow of words was becoming oppressive. 
 
 " My love, did I hear you sigh ? — Am I 
 to wish that your next door neighbour had 
 heard it too? And so soon after that 
 smile ! Already fickle ! Not that papa 
 would not be delighted to hear it." 
 
 " What has happened at the Tatts' ? " 
 interrupted her hostess — who detested the 
 lady's-maid style of pleasantry in which 
 Miss Grace and Lady Marcia (to judge 
 from report) seemed adepts. 
 
 " Well, as I said, this is the way that the
 
 182 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 Tatts have been going on for years ; one 
 day working a banner for the Poles — another 
 learning modern Greek, they pretended, to 
 please Dr. Bowstring and Colonel Chichester 
 Stanley — another singing the Marseillaise and 
 ^ Saint Anton on Sunday evenings with the 
 drawing-room lighted up, and people stream- 
 ing out of the public-house round the corner 
 to listen. No, there was no outrageous scheme 
 in which the Tatts had not a finger. Lady 
 Marcia declares that they went out dressed 
 in men's clothes, to enjoy the Ludgate-hill 
 riots, and that it was one of them who broke 
 the great plate-glass window of Mr. GroUop, 
 the Tory hosier. I believe it. I confess I 
 should not like Clarinda Tatt to throw a 
 stone at me : with that huge arm of hers!" 
 
 " But I thought they had a mother. 
 What did she say to all this ? " 
 
 " She connived at them, my dear — she 
 enjoyed it all. — An infernal machine was 
 put together in her back drawing-room 
 (papa has proof positive — if not a model), 
 to take over to France, and blow up the 
 royal family while they were at mass. You 
 should have heard her talk of tyrants. 
 Well, the end was, that when the Back
 
 THE SUBLIME AND THE RIDICULOUS. 183 
 
 Wigram Street plot did come to light, Mrs. 
 Tatt's house was searched, and her papers 
 had to be given up ; and when the house 
 was searched — they found some sort of an 
 Italian or Dalmatian, who had been har- 
 boured there for months, only going out at 
 night in hackney coaches, and with a false 
 beard — the Duke, he called himself — Duke of 
 
 bless me ! Lady Marcia may well 
 
 tease me for my memory a shock- 
 ing person, my dear — too notorious to show 
 himself openly — if he was a real duke, which 
 we doubt — and who was obliged to be got off 
 to America in a fog, down the river. — When 
 this man was found, Porphyria Tatt went 
 into fits ; — screamed, and raised the neigh- 
 bourhood. Mr, Shepherd was passing, love, 
 and heard her screams ! — She wanted to go 
 off with him ; for she declared that they had 
 been married for six months. He declared 
 not^ it is understood; but it seems too true 
 that they ought to have been married— I 
 may say this as no gentlemen are by. Poor 
 Porphyria ! I thought highly of her once ! 
 And so the Tatts were obliged to let their 
 house, and all their furniture, and leave 
 England. They are living — some one said—
 
 184 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 at Brussels, and have taken another name, 
 just as if nothinjy had happened. Pray, 
 love, be cautious : you are beautiful : you 
 are rich : you are inexperienced — who can 
 tell what these foreign people are ? Pray, 
 wait, and find out (papa will make any 
 inquiries for you) before you let yourself be 
 enthusiastic. Papa says he does not think 
 Roccabella is a real name. We asked Lady 
 Marcia, w4io has friends at every court in 
 Europe. Lady Marcia is cautious, and will 
 say nothing — which looks unfavourable. 
 There is nothing we will not do to satisfy 
 you as to whether he is or is not an impostor. 
 We all take so mucli interest in you." 
 
 "An impostor!" exclaimed Rosamond — 
 with indignation — half starting from her 
 chair. Then she recollected herself, and 
 added in a gentler voice : " Thank you; but I 
 will trouble no one to make inquiries on the 
 subject. Indeed, it is painful to me to have 
 my name even mentioned, as you ... as 
 Mr. Bessell .... Pray, let nothing be 
 done. I had fancied that one could please 
 one's self in London, without being watched 
 and commented upon ! " 
 
 " 0, my dear ! liberty is Lady Marcia's
 
 THE SUBLIME AND THE EIDICULOUS. 185 
 
 maxim — and mine, too ; but papa says you 
 have no idea what these refugees really are. 
 Such instances he could tell you! When 
 you come to dine with us on Sunday, he 
 shall tell you instances. Of course, I could 
 not think of comparing you with those 
 strange, hardened Tatts ; but it is dan- 
 gerous, dear, believe me — it is dangerous. 
 And so well aware of it am I, that I believe 
 I throw a something into my manner— since 
 none of those foreign gentlemen, I observe, 
 are easy in my company. We are not a 
 match for those Italians! What a distress 
 would it be to all of us, if you .... We 
 should never forgive ourselves. Wait till 
 you hear papa's instances! " 
 
 It required all Rosamond's temper to 
 carry her through the interview: but even 
 Miss Grace Bessell's visits came to an end: 
 and, after several times being convinced 
 that she heard that Mr. Shepherd coming to 
 call, and expressing herself as no less cer- 
 tain that his new house must mean a Mrs. 
 Shepherd — supposing it possible that he 
 could find such a lady — and after expecting 
 to be asked to drive, and to remain the rest of 
 the day, and expecting in vain — the large,
 
 186 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 white, doleful-looking woman, at last took 
 her leave. 
 
 " Mrs. Rick herself could not have been 
 much more detestable," cried Rosamond, in 
 a positive fever of impatience, after she was 
 released. '' To force herself on me in that 
 audacious way! to presume to take me to 
 task! Mr. Bessell's instances, indeed! " . . 
 . . . . Ah! the alarms and stale counsels of 
 Miss Grace did as much for the Italian 
 cause, with our heroine, as the wonderful 
 speaking eyes, and impassioned manner, and 
 interesting revelations of SignorMontegrone's 
 deputy — whose story she longed to hear 
 completed. And being, of all women under 
 the seven stars, the least regardful of Mrs. 
 Grundy, Rosamond there and then issued an 
 order, that she was not henceforth at home 
 to any one on the days when she took her 
 Italian lessons.
 
 THE SILVER BOX. 187 
 
 CHAPTER XII. ' 
 
 THE SILVER BOX. 
 
 " Our villas on the lake of Como, madam," 
 began Count Roccabella, when he was led 
 by Rosamond to resume the tale which had 
 interested her so much, "were connected by 
 a plane-tree walk, where, in the old happy 
 times, the young people of both families had 
 often spent the whole day. I did not find 
 that being away from them all — out of sight 
 of Aurelia — did me any good. I became 
 more and more restless and wretched — I 
 began to fancy that there was something in 
 Montegrone's letters which I could not un- 
 derstand. I knew that he must write to me 
 under strict restraint, because the government 
 was apt to be curious if people wrote too 
 often, and too much at length ; but I could 
 not always make out his meaning, which 
 became more and more obscure : — and he be-
 
 188 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 gan to plead headaches as an excuse for 
 stoppmg short. One letter was concluded 
 by Camillo, who said that his brother was 
 too languid to finish the despatch — because, 
 since the great heats set in, Montegrone had 
 become very languid. Camillo wrote, too, 
 he said himself, — because lie wanted, he said, 
 very much to hold a private conversation 
 with me — his letter ending with the sign 
 which was in use among us, when any new 
 member joined our party. — This decided me 
 to go to Como, while they were all together 
 there. Political matters, too, were just then 
 ripening fast. 
 
 " But I could not bear to go to the villa 
 Montegrone in broad daylight. The place 
 was so deliciously gay and sunny ! — I could 
 not bear it ! so I loitered about and fished 
 on the lower part of the lake all the day — 
 dressed in a rough dress. If I had been 
 known to have come home suddenly, those 
 priests would have wanted to discover why 
 I came in the evening. 1 was under those 
 plane-trees for the first time since every 
 thino^had been ended betwixt Aureliaand me. 
 
 " I thought that my heart would burst ; for 
 I seemed to know every leaf on every tree,
 
 THE SILVER BOX. 139 
 
 yet every thing was changed — so changed — 
 grown so very solitary ! Not a creature from 
 either house was in the avenue — not a sound 
 was to be heard : and in our old times you 
 might be sure always in the evenings to 
 hear a guitar, or people laughing there ! It 
 was nearly dusk, and the thickness of the 
 leaves makes the place even darker than it 
 ought to be. Somehow, impatient though 
 I had been for weeks, I was afraid to an- 
 nounce myself — and loitered and delayed — 
 unable to determine how I should do it, or 
 for whom I should ask. I walked along' the 
 avenue, looking at the stars in the lake — sj 
 slowly. It was only when I got near the 
 gate at the end, which leads into the Monte- 
 grone gardens, that I was aware of some- 
 thing pale, sitting still and alone upon the 
 steps. It was Aurelia ! 
 
 " I had not been expected, or she would not 
 have been sitting there. When I came near 
 her, she rose as she might have done if she 
 had been startled by some stranger — my foot 
 had told her nothino-. When she heard mv 
 voice, and I got out a word or two, she cried 
 out, as if she had been a helpless and terri- 
 fied child — ' O, go away ! — 0, pray go away!
 
 190 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 What brings you here ? Why did you come 
 back, Salvatore ?' — and she burst into a pas- 
 sion of tears, and flung herself into my arms. 
 
 " I told her, I suppose, that I could not 
 live without seeing her again. I implored 
 her to tell me that she had not forgotten me, 
 that all was not quite over for ever between 
 us ! — I would wait, I recollect 1 said ; I would 
 make any sacrifice, I would do every thing 
 she could ask — I would give her every thing 
 she could dream of — I would even go to con- 
 fession. I would satisfy her priest in any way 
 she could point out ; but part with her, give 
 her up, I could not— it would kill me. 
 
 " ' It has killed me ! ' was the poor crea- 
 ture's reply — turning her face full towards 
 me, and, faint as the light was, I could still 
 see that face — My God ! what a change — 
 what a wreck ! — what an utter wreck ! — She 
 had become thin and yellow : wrinkled like 
 an old person. Her beautiful hair, of which 
 we had been so proud, was wild and thick 
 and neglected, as if it had never been dressed 
 for weeks. Her eyes were sunk and hollow. 
 She told me that she never slept properly 
 now, ' and I shall not sleep, Salvatore,' she 
 said in a tone of misery that I can hear
 
 THE SILVER BOX. 191 
 
 now — *I shall never sleep again, till I am 
 safe out of the world — and in my convent, 
 or in my grave.' 
 
 "You may judge if I could bear this. 
 Ah ! I now think that if I had been calmer 
 — thatifl couldhave soothed her, and pacified 
 her, as I had done many a time when we 
 were children — I might have perhaps recov- 
 ered my hold over her, late as it was ! But 
 to see her, and to know that it was those 
 priests who had made her what I saw her, 
 destroyed my self-command. I do not re- 
 collect what I said, beyond that I raved — I 
 upbraided — I entreated her, as if it had been 
 for life and death ! All this added only to 
 her terror and agitation — It was for such a 
 scene that her priest had prepared her. He 
 had told her, too, how she was to resist it. 
 Such anguish and horror were to be borne 
 by her in no other way than one ! I thought 
 she would have died in my arms ; but she 
 broke loose from them, — and she fell on her 
 knees and began to say her prayers, and 
 when I spoke to her she only moaned, and 
 muttered, and went on praying faster and 
 more and more earnestly — in the twilight 
 there, beside the lake.
 
 192 liOCCABELLA. 
 
 "I was always an unreasonable, hot-headed 
 fool ! To see her there, a spiritless, soulless 
 image, running over word after word, phrase 
 after phrase, as if I had been some evil thing 
 which she covdd charm away by her prayers — 
 enraged me. I did not think what she had 
 been ! I could not for a moment I I thought 
 of myself as my passions rose, and as she be- 
 came more terrified — and more dogged — 
 and crouched nearer and nearer to the ground, 
 and muttered faster and faster — I turned foran 
 instant away — perhaps I thought that I might 
 stir something of the old truth — something of 
 the old fondness in her, by seeming to go. 
 When I looked back again, she was safe be- 
 yond passion — persuasion — safe beyond Jiei^ 
 own persuasions, if any yet spoke in that 
 strange shut-up heart of hers. She was gone ! 
 
 " Was it a dream that I had seen her — that 
 I had held her in my arms— that I had ielt 
 her warm breath on my cheek, once again ? 
 But w^hy should I take up your time with 
 my history ? It is nothing strange, after all. 
 You will not wonder that on that night it was 
 impossible for me to present myself at the 
 villa Montegrone, to hold a political inter- 
 view with Camillo. I passed the hours— I
 
 THE SILViER BOX. 193 
 
 sometimes think, that it must have been a 
 year — upon the lake ! 
 
 " What became of Aurelia — poor broken 
 creature ! — I subsequently learned from 
 others. — It appears that she must have fled 
 up to the villa, as though death was close 
 behind her. You entered many of its rooms 
 from the garden. Into one of these she sped 
 — flung herself down upon a couch. When 
 she faintly waked up — after how long a pause 
 she knew not — she became aware of voices 
 not far from her — in the next saloon — the 
 voices of two people talking in the deep sum- 
 mer twilight — without knowing that she was 
 lying there. 
 
 " They were the voices of the Llarchesa 
 Delia Brianza and a man — the man a priest 
 — the priest the Marchesa's confessor — not 
 A urelia's. 
 
 " ' The cure is very slow,' said the priest, 
 in a tone of discontent. — ^ Count Monte- 
 grone is very strong,' was the lady's reply, 
 ' and his disease is hard to master. He be- 
 comes more and more restless and feverish 
 every day — and sleeps less and less.' 
 
 " * And is Count Camillo often with him 
 when he is awake ? Suppose Count Camillo, 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 too, were to lose his sleep, daughter. Such 
 things are apt to be epidemic in families of 
 a certain temperament. Are you sure that you 
 have followed my instructions implicitly? 
 — fulfilled my directions ? — administered m}^ 
 prescription to Montegrone every day ? ' 
 
 " ' I have given what you prescribed in a 
 glass of lemonade every day. The Count 
 Montegrone has an objection, you know, to 
 any thing like care, or medicine,' replied the 
 Marchesa in the same odious glozing tone. 
 * He has no idea, dear lost man ! how we are 
 watching over him. And one would not 
 make his wife jealous, father ! What can I 
 do next ? I cannot bear to fancy my Camillo 
 becoming infected. Our medicine must take 
 effect. Shall I double the dose ? ' 
 
 '' ' No, child, no ! on your obedience — no ! 
 If Count Montegrone were to sleep too long 
 — if just at present Camillo were to have to 
 act for him — or in his stead — we should be 
 ruined ! A week or two more of our treat- 
 ment must suffice. But who would have 
 thought that he could offer so much resis- 
 tance ? Have you enough of the powder 'to 
 go on with? You know I shall leave for 
 Milan to-morrow , . . 'Tisprudent I should.
 
 THE SILVER BOX. 195 
 
 Let me see: No? ... . well, then, I will 
 fill your little silver box quite full.' 
 
 "All that Aurelia further heard was a 
 benediction — the priest blessing his pupil — 
 and then feet departed, till they were quite 
 out of hearing. She lay still : for a certain 
 awe was over her — as if she had been talking 
 to something of another world. Perhaps 
 after she had stopped praying, the old affec- 
 tionate Aurelia had revived in her a little. 
 Too late ! too late ! 
 
 " Too late she knew it to be ! As that night 
 drew on, her agony and passion began to 
 darken and to deepen. For she was then 
 alone with her own heart. Many a time, she 
 afterwards said, she thought that she must go 
 to her brother there and then— must place 
 herself at his disposal — must pray of him to 
 call me back — must own that she was too 
 weak to be as virtuous and devoted as those 
 priests would have her to be! But the stern, 
 stern superstition got hold of her again- 
 fast— fast ! She bethought her of the vows 
 they had laid upon her, — she remembered 
 what they had told her of my lost infidel state : 
 she fell back into the snare — and writhed there 
 — tortured — helpless — hopeless ! That even-
 
 19S KOCCABELLA. 
 
 ing, moreover, she met none of the family. 
 Perhaps even had Camillo spoken to his little 
 sister kindly — perhaps had her elder brother 
 reasoned with her (as he formerly had tried 
 to do), she might still have been saved. But 
 it was not to be ! 
 
 " The night went on : but brought no sleep 
 for poor Aurelia! — She had not slept too 
 much for many a month ; but that night, 
 the wretchedness of half hour after half hour, 
 became more than she could endure. Think 
 of this ! she said that she absolutely prayed 
 that her reason might leave her — that she might 
 less clearly remember all that had happened. 
 Then she began to put things together in a 
 strange, diseased way — to advert to what the 
 Marchesa had been saying to the rpadre. 
 
 " She believed, you will observe, in those 
 priests ! She had become used to their manner 
 of watching over the members of her family 
 quietly and secretly. Her poor, weak mind 
 may have honestly conceived that the Mar- 
 chesa and her confessor had really been dis- 
 cussing the health of her elder brother — that 
 they really had wished to quiet his increased 
 disturbance and irascibility by administering 
 the narcotic, a double dose of which must
 
 THE SILVER BOX. 197 
 
 succeed. Why should not she get such help 
 too? Why should not she^ too, be put to 
 sleep out of that wonderful silver box ? — 
 Why should she not manage it all for her- 
 self, as they were managing for her brother, 
 secretly — and without any of them knowing 
 any thing about it ? She could — she wouldj 
 there and then ! Late as the hour was, she 
 would watch the Marchesa — she would hide 
 behind the curtains of her chamber — and 
 when the woman was asleep, she would get 
 possession of the charm. Such was the 
 account (if account poor Aurelia's could be 
 called) which she afterwards gave of what 
 passed in her mind on that memorable nio;ht. 
 At all events, it agreed with what befell. 
 She succeeded in secreting herself in the. 
 room of the Marchesa Delia Brianza, and in 
 carrying off the silver box when that wicked 
 woman was asleep. What prevented her from 
 trying the virtue of its contents there and 
 then, upon herself, was less clearly explained. 
 Perhaps, so great had been her exhaustion 
 that she slept without its aid ; for certain it 
 is, that she did sleep till late in the morning 
 of the following day. 
 
 " It is certain, too, that shortly after poor
 
 198 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 Aurelia rose, she received a visit from her 
 own confessor — the man who had severed us, 
 and who had ruined us both. — He may pro- 
 bably have heard of my having being seen in 
 the neighbourhood, and accordingly came up 
 to the palace to confirm his charge against 
 possible repentance. — He found her quiet — 
 those who saw them together said so — and 
 reading. One or two of the servants, how- 
 ever, remembered that Aurelia had com- 
 plained of feverish thirst, and had caused a 
 caraffe of lemonade to be placed on her table. 
 How the contents of that fatal silver box found 
 their way into the flask, who can tell ? — if she 
 put them there — whether she remembered 
 having put them there — or whether for her- 
 self alone ? The casket, at all events, was 
 afterwards found empty in her bosom : and 
 the casket was denounced, not claimed, by La 
 Brianza ! Meanwhile, the morning was sul- 
 try, .and the priest thirsty. When did ever 
 a priest refuse to help himself to any luxury 
 provided for his penitent ? The two had a 
 long and stormy interview. She, poor thing, 
 it seems, did try to plead for her old lover — 
 did allow her tyrant to see that he had not 
 still utterly subjugated her. She let out, in-
 
 THE SILVER BOX. 199 
 
 cautiously, thefacts— of my being in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and that she had met me — had 
 spoken with me ! Her confessor threatened. 
 
 " ' Ah ! ' cried she, passionately rising from 
 the table at which they had been sitting. 
 ' You threaten Salvatore ! beware, father ! 
 beware !' — and Aurelia rose in a tumult, and 
 left the room, to search, as she afterwards 
 swore, for the Count Montegrone, her eldest 
 brother, and to entreat him to intercede. 
 Her spiritual director had been goading her 
 more than she could bear — cowed, and 
 subdued as she was. 
 
 " The Count Montegrone, however, was on 
 the lake. He had gone down towards the 
 Pliniana to meet me in a little creek, where 
 a few olive and walnut trees made a screen 
 thick enough to shelter a couple of such 
 conspirators as we. When Aurelia came 
 back — disappointed in her search for her 
 elder brother, with the disturbed idea of 
 appealing once again and for the last time 
 to the humanity of her priest — he was gone. 
 She asked for him : some one had seen him 
 languidly slouching up one of the garden 
 walks in the sunshine — but the caraffe of 
 lemonade was empty.
 
 200 ROCGABELLA. 
 
 Three hours afterwards, the priest was 
 found by one of the gardeners lying, motion- 
 less, at the foot of the altar of the little 
 chapel at which he had been used to say 
 mass for the inhabitants of the palace, 
 and of the village which was its dependency. 
 They conceived him to be fast asleep. But 
 it was more. He had drained the caraffe, 
 into which the entire contents of the silver 
 box had been showered. He was dead — 
 dead of that remedy which the charity of the 
 Marchesa Delia Brianza had provided for 
 the cure of the feverish Count Montegrone. 
 
 " You will spare my dwelling on what 
 followed : The horror — the dismays — then 
 the accusation of poor Aurelia — then her 
 revelations of the discourse she had over- 
 heard betwixt their guest and their con- 
 fessor — then the finding of the silver-box 
 in her bosom — then the hideous medical 
 examinations, by which it appeared that 
 the system of Count Montegrone had been 
 seriously tampered with— and his vital 
 powers impaired by the perpetual adminis- 
 tration of small doses of poison. 
 
 " This, too, the Austrian fiend charged upon 
 Aurelia ... as well as the premeditated mur-
 
 THE SILVER BOX. 201 
 
 der of her priest. — ^Well : they could do her no 
 more harm : since, lono; before this stao^e of 
 the affair had been reached, she was beyond 
 the grasp of man to torture! Her mind 
 was gone. It was necessary to place her 
 under restraint, but not for long — God be 
 thanked ! — not for long ! Three years ago 
 she died : just before the movement began. 
 ... I do not know why," continued 
 Count Roccabella, speaking suddenly in a 
 tone of passion amounting almost to fury — 
 " you should have wrung this history from 
 me! But what do any of you women 
 care what we men suffer ; provided only 
 you can have your curiosity and your love 
 of excitement gratified ! I hope you are 
 contented." 
 
 What did Eosamond care ? Her tears 
 might have told any calmer man — tears 
 which had she tried to restrain, but which 
 she could not have restrained to save her 
 life— tears such as no man (for in her way 
 Rosamond was proud) had ever till then 
 seen her shed. "I cannot help it; indeed I 
 cannot! " at length she sobbed out. " It was 
 not idle curiosity, I entreat you to believe. 
 How could I know that I should hear so
 
 202 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 sad a story as this — that I should hear your 
 own story, when I asked you to tell me 
 about Count Monte^rone ? I am sorry — 
 more sorry than I can tell you, for the pain 
 that I have given you; but I could not 
 know it." Yet Rosamond would fain have 
 still asked a question or two more ; what 
 (for instance) had become of Count Camillo ? 
 and what .... "I shall, perhaps, hear 
 some other day." She thought within 
 
 herself — what ailed her charity ? 
 
 she was thinking of any of the persons who 
 had figured in that dismal tragedy of wreck 
 and ruin, far more than about him for whose 
 sake she had asked to hear it — her poor, 
 heavy, half- dead Italian master. 
 
 " Have we not time to read a little ? " at 
 length said she, making efforts to break the 
 pause which followed ; and to arrest her 
 stormy guest in the rapid strides to and fro 
 by which he was working off his passion. 
 The Count Eoccabella recovered himself — if 
 recovery it could be called — to seize his 
 pupil's hand and to kiss it — ere Rosamond 
 could start from her chair — ere she had 
 time even to ask herself if this was not 
 beyond the usual mode of recognizing sym-
 
 THE SILVER BOX. 203 
 
 pathy among the impulsive southerns — the 
 handsomest man north of Bologna was 
 sitting close to her : and as if he, too, feared 
 explanation — as if he, too, had a spell to 
 break by force — was reading in his deep, 
 musical voice, those most resonantly musical 
 of all lyrics — the choruses to Manzoni's 
 " Conte di Carmagnola." 
 
 It may be feared that Mr. Bessell's in- 
 stances were that day — and for some days 
 afterwards, also — utterly forgotten.
 
 204 KOCCABELLA. 
 
 CHAPTER Xin. 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 From this time forth the Italian readings 
 of Rosamond became earnest, frequent, and 
 secret. Every one of her household joined 
 with alacrity in shutting out Miss Grace 
 Bessell — with a mysterious and emphatic 
 " Mrs. Westwoodis reading Italian, ma' am, and 
 cannot be disturbed on no account.'^ Nelkson 
 watched on the stairs to see the visiter come, 
 and to hear her sent away; and the comings 
 were numerous in proportion to the dis- 
 missals. Even a note, to the effect that 
 Lady Marcia had begged Miss G. B. to ar- 
 range preliminaries " for a course of readings 
 with Mrs. West wood's fascinating instructor, 
 the Count Roccabella," failed to gain for the 
 mournful virgin the desired opportunity of 
 gratifying her curiosity. She began to 
 think that she must absolutely descend from 
 her pedestal — mitigate her pride of sex — 
 and call upon Rosamond's neighbour, to a.^k
 
 SYMPATHY. 205 
 
 questions, and diffuse misgivings. — But Mr. 
 Shepherd, whom she met in the street, was 
 so rudely laconic, as even to overrule the 
 perseverance of Miss Grace : and his audible 
 remark, " No proper female acquaintances! " 
 was not spoken in a tone to encourage 
 her search after his sympathy. 
 
 Of these things our heroine was little 
 aware. For these things she cared less. She 
 was in a dream ; and even had she known that 
 she was dreaming — and that the chill, be- 
 wildering, moment of waking must arrive — 
 the vision was too delicious to be resisted. 
 All her life had Rosamond fancied some such 
 occupation of her thoughts and affections as 
 she had now found — some such mixture of 
 passion, self-sacrifice, or high purpose, and 
 eccentric duty — some such employment of her 
 faculties, fit for a queen or a great general's 
 wife, or for a sybil, or a priestess — as was 
 now laid before her. The friend, the trusted 
 and preferred friend of a devoted, and active, 
 and hopeful Italian patriot — the confidante 
 in whose presence he restrained no iota of 
 his rage, before whom he was willing to 
 wee]), as even Italian men are seen weep 
 rarely— the witness from whom not a njood.
 
 206 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 not a thought, not a purpose were con- 
 cealed ; — to he all this (there was no playing 
 of a part in Eosamond's case) was to fill her 
 desires, to work out her hopes, to develop at 
 once her passions, impulses, and endow- 
 ments. — There was a homage in the Count 
 Roccabella's entire trust ; in his unhesitating 
 abandonment, far deeper — far dearer, than 
 that of the most exuberant compliments or 
 personal flatteries. There was nothing per- 
 sonal in her readiness and sympathy. She 
 thought little of her own youth, of her own 
 beauty, of her own warm heart, of her own 
 lavish munificence — she adverted sparingly 
 to all that the Italian might be to her : what 
 she was to him was the present sustaining, 
 intoxicating enchantment. "My hours are 
 not wasted now," Rosamond would say to 
 herself, with emotion — " my propensities and 
 feelings are not misunderstood. Perhaps 
 even I, small and unknown though I be — 
 may help, and take a part in noble deeds and 
 great things ! " And thus, with conviction 
 no less than enthusiasm, did she fling herself, 
 heart, soul, and spirit, into Italian affairs and 
 Italian visions — never tired of listening, 
 never slack of hoping — never grieved when
 
 SYMPATHY. 207 
 
 the speaker was feverish or unreasonable — 
 never cautious in check of his extravagance. 
 In after times, Eosamond often and again 
 looked back towards these days as to that 
 brief period of blissful delirium — distinct 
 from love, though, perhaps, not far distant 
 from it — which comes only once— even to 
 the most abundantly generous and gifted — 
 in his lifetime! 
 
 To protract this state of self-delusion, or 
 of preparation — there were meetings upon 
 a more neutral ground at which such exciting 
 topics became exhausting. The two had much 
 to say and to arrange, with regard to the 
 good offices to be done to the Montegrones. 
 Whether the Count had been poisoned or 
 not — it became early evident to Eosamond, 
 that the health of the unhappy gentleman 
 was undermined beyond reparation. His 
 moody and listless silence increased, and with 
 it his indifference to either suffering or to 
 succour. Though Count Roccabella would 
 not delegate to any person else the right 
 of assisting his old friend, Rosamond could do 
 every thing for poor, scared Madame Monte- 
 grone : indulge her with carriage airings, 
 fresh fruit, flowers, and small matters of taste-
 
 208 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 ful dress, the presence of which (no matter 
 whence derived) seemed to cheat the poor 
 lady into some idea that her fortunes were 
 not utterly ruined. — Conversation she had 
 none: habituated as she had been all her 
 life to the ciarleria of a small and frivolous 
 circle — and beyond a rapture or two over 
 some favourite opera, and a frequent out- 
 burst of distressing love and tenderness, the 
 society of the Italian Countess should, by 
 consistent right, have been as utterly barren 
 and wearisome to our young widow as that of 
 those Liverpool ladies, whose inanity had 
 often driven her into such despair. — But in 
 social preferences there is no consistency. — 
 Eosamond's fancy was charmed: her heart 
 was interested, and that prematurely gaunt, 
 scarcely intelligible and fatiguing, companion, 
 stood for society to her — even when the theme 
 did not chance to be the devotion, the pro- 
 mise, the sorrows, the genius, or the manly 
 beauty of "Salvatore;" — and Miss Grace 
 Bessell might bridle a moan, and might 
 again press upon our heroine the tragedy 
 of the Tatts and " papa's instances," with- 
 out either alarming Rosamond, or, for 
 one instant, turning her aside from th(i
 
 SYMPATHY. 209 
 
 pleasure of her life, and the cultivation of 
 her powers. 
 
 Thus went on the summer and the early 
 autumn. In a few more weeks, the melan- 
 choly uniform of widowhood would be cast 
 aside, and our heroine be ao^ain a free asent. 
 But Rosamond hardly wished for the time of 
 liberty. She had been for a while, and for 
 the first time in her life, so happy. Unlike, 
 too, the majority of human creatures, who 
 confess little, in proportion as they crave 
 much — she hnew this to be her golden age. 
 She resigned herself to the smooth, delicious 
 flow of the current : and she did not, and 
 would not see how fast she was careering 
 onwards, towards the rapids, the rock-barrier, 
 the cataract ! 
 
 TOL. I.
 
 210 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 CHAPTEK XIV. 
 
 A CHAPTEK OF COKRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Our Martha was not made happy in the 
 married state quite so soon as had been 
 originally planned. Mrs. Marshall — the 
 mother of Louis — slipped on the floor (my 
 wife believes owing to the nervousness 
 attendant on her receiving good news) and 
 sprained her hip, so severely that she was 
 sentenced to a sofa for many weeks — there 
 to lie without putting a foot to the ground. 
 Married, without Mrs. Marshall was present, 
 neither her son nor our daughter would be ; 
 and the two bore their little disappointment 
 better, I must say, than I could have endured 
 such a thing when my Mrs. Bell was to be 
 brought home. — Thus it chanced that their 
 marriage, and the circumstances of their 
 future settlement, excited more attention 
 than any of us could have wished. Ironical
 
 A CHAPTER OF CORRESPONDENCE. 211 
 
 remarks were made by parents having 
 daughters on hand : — and some bold people 
 professed to believe that Grayhouse was a 
 castle in air — the induction into which would 
 never take place. At this, knowing better, 
 we could laugh among* ourselves. Still, 
 publicity can never be pleasant to right- 
 minded young persons: — and we did think 
 Mrs. Marshall's hip long in getting strong — 
 and that her doctor, like his patient, was the 
 least in the world of an old woman. 
 Autumn was now waning into winter. 
 " Very soon," said my wife one day (who 
 loved nothing so well as talkino^ of our bene- 
 factress), as we sat round the table after our 
 one o'clock dinner ; " Very soon our good, 
 kind Rosamond will be able to throw off 
 those hideous weeds; — and, really, if ever 
 woman might have been excused from wear- 
 ing them a twelvemonth, she might!" 
 
 My wife was interrupted, almost ere she 
 could end her speech, by such a knock as 
 rarely favours our humble door in Halcyon 
 Row. Then came in a scent of musk, and a 
 rustling of silks; and, to my extreme surprise, 
 and no small displeasure, there was ushered 
 into the room, with much ceremonious
 
 212 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 humility and mournfulness, the last woman 
 in the world, except Mrs. Chidley, whom 
 we desired to see in our house — no one other 
 than Mrs. James Rick. That lady had long 
 cast off her mourning greys and lavenders ; 
 and stood firm in a stout coral brown silk, 
 fitting her figure tightly — a green bonnet, 
 dark blue gloves, and violet boots. 
 
 My children, one and all, took a dislike 
 to her looks, from her ill-fancied mixture of 
 colours: and, with somewhat unmannerly 
 haste, shufiled out of the room almost before 
 she was in it — certainly ere her sighs, after 
 having sat down, were over ; — for she sighed 
 several times before she could prevail upon 
 herself to speak. — '' I am glad," at length 
 said Mrs. Rick, " to have found you alone, 
 since I wish to make you acquainted with 
 some family matters of extreme, I may say 
 of painful, delicacy," . . , . and out bowled 
 a text which had obviously been got ready 
 for the occasion. 
 
 " pray, then, ma'am," was niy wife's 
 reply, " excuse us ! — We are hardly delicate 
 people here: — plain and rough, I should say, 
 and not fit to offer an opinion. And indeed, 
 ma'am, if you will give me leave, I have
 
 A CHAPTER OF CORKESPONDENCE. 213 
 
 never found any delicacy arise from going 
 round with one's family troubles. People 
 are apt to forget — and to mention them in 
 wrong places, and to wrong persons. I am 
 sure my husband and myself, alike, should 
 be sorry to be mixed up . . . or to 
 know . . . It's better to be rude at once, 
 than to be false a week hence, Mrs. Rick. 
 Don't. Shall we have snow^ ?" 
 
 My wdfe was no match for the serious 
 lady. " How right you are, Mrs. Bell," was 
 Mrs. Rick's dulcet answer — " how very right 
 in your general principle ! But you are 
 interested in the matter I wish to consult 
 you about, more than we " . . . 
 
 " How, pray, Mrs. Rick ? " said my wife, 
 whose antipathy, I could perceive, was 
 kindling. 
 
 The answer was a plunge into a velvet 
 bag, out of which Mrs. Rick drew a long 
 crossed— nay, double-crossed — letter. She 
 then sighed again, and begun to search up and 
 down the network of pale waiting — while, 
 possibly, she was getting other texts ready. 
 
 " Mrs. Nagle's letters," said she, " are so 
 copious — so full of matter . . Ah ! this it is 
 .... No, this letter is about the beautiful
 
 214 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 state of mind in which the poor creature, 
 executed on Monday last, met her end . . . 
 Is it here ?" . . . and our visiter began to 
 hang over the hieroglyphic with a fond de- 
 liberation, which was wearisome rather than 
 piquant. — We had never heard the name of 
 Mrs. Nagle. What could there be in any 
 letter of hers to concern us ? 
 
 " 0, this it is ! " cried Mrs. Rick, untying 
 her bonnet-strings, like one who is setting in 
 for an interview. " Here it is — the news 
 about our poor, dear, imprudent Rosamond, 
 which you will be truly sorry to hear — if, 
 indeed, you have not heard it already." 
 
 '' News of Mrs. Westwood !" exclaimed my 
 wife, hardening herself " Nothing can 
 Mrs. Westwood do that we shall be sorry to 
 hear of Is she ill, ma'am? Pray, don't 
 break it to us (as they call it) if she is," — and 
 my wife's " Pray " was becoming so weighty, 
 as evidently to make the serious lady more 
 nervous than was her wont. 
 
 " I wish she was ill," — replied Mrs. Rick, 
 turning up her eyes with a terrible Christian 
 meekness. 
 
 " Well, ma'am, that's what I call a sisterly 
 wish," said my wife, with a toss in her chair.
 
 A CHAPTER OF CORRESPONDENCE. 215 
 
 which I understood. Perhaps a monitory 
 look of mine prevented Mrs. Bell from saying 
 more, and gave the serious lady opportunity 
 to proceed. 
 
 " Bodily suffering I meant to say, my dear 
 Mrs. Bell, may be cured ; but if our beloved 
 Rosamond should make an imprudent mar- 
 riage, she may feel its effects till her dying 
 day." 
 
 " An imprudent marriage ! " exclaimed my 
 wife, turning scarlet ; " and who says she is 
 going to make an imprudent marriage ? — 
 Liverpool gossip — umph ! " 
 
 " I fear — I fear that there is more than 
 Liverpool gossip in it," rejoined Mrs. Rick, 
 and again had recourse to the letter, which 
 she read aloud. 
 
 " ^ Is it your sister ? ' writes Mrs. Nagle ; 
 ' is it that Mrs. Westwood, in whose unpro- 
 tected state we are all so deeply interested, 
 who is going to marry one of those Italian 
 refugees — a Count Bellarosa, or Bellabocca, 
 or some such name? — He is said to be a 
 Catholic, and not only so, but a Jesuit in 
 disguise : and that she is about to embrace 
 his fatal delusions.' Can there be any truth 
 in this, dear Mrs. Bell? Have you heard
 
 216 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 any thing of such a matter ? Is there no- 
 thing that we can do ?" 
 
 I saw by my wife's face that she believed 
 the story. My heart sunk within me ; for 
 we all loved Rosamond dearly. 
 
 " I should say," continued Mrs. Rick, now 
 in the full tide of malicious confidence, " that 
 a day before Mrs. ISTagle wrote to me — we had 
 heard from Mr. Bessell — my sister Chidley 
 and myself — in allusion to the subject. He 
 had beo:o:ed us to use our influence with dear 
 Rosamond, to dissuade her from forming a 
 connection so very qustionable. It would 
 make our dear brother turn in his grave, I 
 verily think, if his widow were to marry a 
 Papist. Do you know any thing about the 
 matter, Mrs Bell ? I took the advantage of 
 Mrs. Trindle's invitation, to come over to the 
 Hindoo Schools meeting, on purpose that we 
 might consult together. My sister Chidley 
 declines to act. She is apt to be a little 
 warm, you know — but I cannot be easy. I 
 have written to our dear Rosamond as tem- 
 perate and affectionate a letter of remon- 
 strance as was ever worded. I hope you 
 will second me. Why, she will not be his 
 legal wife in his own country, unless she
 
 A CHAPTER OF CORRESPONDENCE. 217 
 
 turn Papist too — and that *is what Mrs. 
 Trindle, and I perceive, in addition, Mrs. 
 Nagle, expects she will do, at no very distant 
 period." 
 
 " Ma'am, I should think," said my wife, 
 breaking silence at last, in a voice sharp 
 enough almost to break glass — '' that Mrs. 
 West wood's relations would not be averse to 
 Mrs. Westwood marrying again : — but quite 
 otherwise. I have not a doubt but your 
 letter would incite her to commit the folly, in 
 place of deterring her, supposing there were 
 any truth in such nonsense. But I don't be- 
 lieve a word of it ! Rosamond marry a Jesuit! 
 — she who hates stiff, smooth, silly, pious 
 people, that make up a face ! — as she hates 
 poison. There's not a word of truth in it ! 
 And, ma'am, Mr. Bell says there are Jesuits 
 in all religions : and 1 am pretty sure that 
 Mr. Bell is right." 
 
 '' Mr. Bessell warns us," persevered Mrs. 
 Rick, who, like other clever and Christian 
 women, was obtusely and meekly disregard- 
 ful of every thing save the current of her 
 own purposes — " that our dear Rosamond's 
 magnificent fortune is in all probability a 
 bait to this Italian. This consideration, too,
 
 218 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 I set before her in my letter. Would it not 
 be wise, think you, to make him acquainted 
 with the real facts of the case ? and to let him 
 know that Rosamond loses her fortune in 
 case she marries again : — and that none of 
 us have the least idea of its disposition under 
 such circumstances." 
 
 " -4A / ". . . . said my wife to herself in 
 that deep, long-protracted under tone of 
 hers, which meant, 1 knew — ''^ Now we have 
 it!"" "None of us, as you say, Mrs. Rick," 
 repeated she in a tone of provoking sagacity, 
 intended in her womanly fashion to torment 
 her visiter — "Pray, write what you think 
 proper, ma'am ! If there be this man in 
 the moon, who is about to come into your 
 family, Mrs. Rick — you are the fittest person, 
 surely, to state your impression, that, in the 
 case of Mrs. Westwood's second marriage, 
 yourself and party have expectations — unless 
 indeed the whole sum is not bequeathed to 
 the Hindoo Schools. I am sure that neither 
 Mr. Bell nor myself would interfere in a 
 matter so delicate — supposing it true ; for 
 we should think it the best kindness not to 
 foment obstinacy by persecution." 
 
 *' You put the duty very lucidly," was the
 
 A CHAPTER OF CORRESPONDENCE. 219 
 
 serious lady's sweet reply, — " if persecution 
 watching over one another's good may be 
 called." 
 
 " One another's good, or one another's 
 goods, which ? Mrs. Eick. You will excuse 
 my being tart ; but njeddling is not to my 
 taste." 
 
 I now began to get uneasy, feeling that 
 Mrs. Bell ran some danger of becoming too 
 merciless, even to that self-interested hypo- 
 crite. But my wife had taken the measure 
 of her listener better than I. — The more she 
 crested herself, the more humbly stooped 
 Mrs. Rick. The sharper grew the one, the 
 meeker became the other ; so meek as abso- 
 lutely to ask, after two moments more of 
 this strange sitting — for a glass of wine and 
 a crust of bread. She had not waited for 
 Mrs. Trindle's luncheon, in her anxiety to 
 find Mrs. Bell at home. 
 
 This disarmed my better half — who loves 
 to see people eat and drink in our house — as 
 much as she could be disarmed ; accordingly 
 I took advantage of the entrance of the eat- 
 ables to make my exit : — being satisfied that 
 no overt rudeness was now to be apprehended 
 when once the tray was on the table. But I
 
 220 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 thought, and thought all my way to the 
 warehouse and back again, far more gravely 
 than I liked, on this story about Rosamond. 
 Her letters had of late been wild, brief, and 
 hard to comprehend — containing a good 
 deal concerning conflicts, sympathies, coming 
 events, and tyrants. London appeared to 
 have failed to satisfy her. She wrote con- 
 temptuously of the tone of female society 
 there: — by which, I presume, she meant 
 Miss Grace Bessell. 
 
 When I returned home in the evening, 
 my wife and myself had a sorrowful compar- 
 ing of notes, without paying much regard 
 to Martha and Louis, who were playing at 
 chess in the corner. Indeed, they had no 
 right to be excluded from any deliberation 
 of which their patron saint was the object. 
 But the truth was, we were so intent on our 
 apprehensions, and uncertainties, as to have 
 forgotten their presence, till a somewhat 
 triumphant "mate" from the gentleman, 
 startled us. 
 
 " I know," said Martha rising, — " and you 
 know that you cannot beat me. I have not 
 been minding my game : but listening. This 
 is an awkward report, mother, is it not,
 
 A CHAPTER OF CORRESPONDENCE. 221 
 
 about Rosamond ? But she always had a 
 lieart ready for some foreign patriot or other ; 
 — dear, generous creature ! " 
 
 ''And Heaven grant," sighed I, "that he 
 may not have found his way to her purse ! 
 What ivould become of her were she to 
 marry some foreigner in difficulties, and if, 
 out of her own utter unselfishness, she were 
 to forget to acquaint him, until it was too 
 late, of the disposition of her property? — I 
 never knew woman less fit to be a poor 
 woman than Kosamond, with her fairy-like 
 notions of generosity ! " 
 
 "And she has half-ruined herself," ex- 
 claimed my Martha ; " half-ruined herself, 
 already, in buying this living for us ! Louis, 
 if this should be true — if ... I know what 
 we must do — we must show that we are not 
 ungrateful. We must lay by for Rosamond." 
 
 " My love, there will be our parish and 
 its poor. Save a very moderate provision 
 for you, I dare not lay by." 
 
 " Not from the living, of course," was my 
 daughter's stout answer. " The income from 
 the living is not ours, I know. Well, but 
 we can take pupils — you must and I will. . . 
 or, mind, I will never set foot in Gray house ! "
 
 222 KOCCABELLA. 
 
 I could have wept with pleasure to hear 
 this. My child, too, had a touch of the good 
 fairy in her nature. And, what was better, 
 she always said, as was well known, less than 
 she meant. — But what a destruction of their 
 charming retreat — what a giving up of bridal 
 ease and privacy ! ^o wonder that poor 
 Louis looked grave and disturbed ! No won- 
 der that he took leave for the night with a 
 more than usually emphatic — " Let us hope 
 that the story is not true, after all." 
 
 "I shall ^my that it is not!" was the 
 answer of his bride elect; " but if it is — we 
 must do our part" .... the end of this 
 high-hearted speech being stopped — how no 
 
 one need wonder for / kissed my 
 
 Martha myself, and that heartily, when she 
 returned into the parlour : — proud that our 
 daughter was so unlike in her spirit to such 
 a serious and professing Christian as Mrs. 
 James Rick. 
 
 Should we write to this dear, ill-counselled 
 Rosamond ? now became a question betwixt 
 Mrs. Bell and myself. — Should I go to her ? 
 was even a suggestion that rose. But my 
 wife declares that my love of " going to 
 every body " is only a love of gadding about ;
 
 A CHAPTER OF CORRESPONDENCE. 223 
 
 — and, so recently had she forgiven me my 
 stolen journey to Gray house, that the idea 
 of my taking a solitary flight to London was 
 doubly unpleasing. A day or two were 
 lost in tolerably close deliberation as to 
 what should be done — and a second visit 
 from that nauseous woman was parried. 
 About the third morning after Mrs. James 
 Rick had disturbed us, a fresh and totally 
 unexpected light was thrown upon Rosa- 
 mond's love affairs, by a communication from 
 a totally different quarter. 
 
 The hand in which the letter was written 
 was springy and legibly accurate — the seal 
 was a very small coat-of-arms ; engraved in 
 the highest style, though making little show. 
 The contents were as complacent as the look 
 of the text — but still the writing, as we all 
 agreed, was that of a complacent gentleman. 
 
 " Sir," said the letter, addressing me, " I 
 am induced to trouble you as a friend and 
 family connection of Mrs. Westwood, for 
 whom I have heard her express the highest 
 value, and who enjoys, therefore, probably 
 more of her confidence than any of her 
 London acquaintance. Since the time when
 
 224 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 I first met your charming relative, I have 
 been satisfied that, beyond all the women I 
 have ever seen, she is the person to make me 
 happy ; and closer and more frequent recent 
 intercourse has only confirmed the convic- 
 tion. From something, however, that passed 
 the other evening, I have the idea that, in 
 case of Mrs. Westwood contracting a second 
 marriage, her own circumstances, as an 
 independent woman, would materially change 
 — in accordance with the provision of the 
 will of her late husband. Can you give me, 
 if it be not unpleasant to yourself, some 
 notion of the amount of the dear lady's 
 sacrifice ? It is one of those points which I 
 could not discuss with herself; but, before we 
 come to final explanations, I am anxious for 
 such information, since the state of my pro- 
 perty, which, I am happy to say, is consider- 
 able and unencumbered, enables me to pro- 
 pose settlements equivalent to any income 
 which would determine on the occasion. 
 As I am writing to a man of business, no 
 less than of delicacy, I enclose the address 
 of my solicitors, who will satisfy you that I 
 do not profess more than I can perform; and 
 hoping that you will forgive the directness
 
 A CHAPTER OF COREESPONDEXCE. 225 
 
 of my inquiries, in favour of my earnestness, 
 I remain, with sincere respect, — Your obe- 
 dient, humble servant, 
 
 " Gervase Shepherd." 
 
 The above was marked ^^ Private;' — but I 
 had read it aloud to my wife ere I adverted 
 to the word above the date. 
 
 "Why, Paul — Paul, my love!" almost 
 screamed my wife, in an ecstasy of surprise, 
 '^ surely, surely this must be the true ver- 
 sion of Mrs. Rick's story ! Like her — the 
 poisonous woman!" 
 
 I said I wished I could think so; for I 
 could not imagine how even Mrs. Eick's 
 eagerness for Rosamond's downfall could 
 convert such an outspoken and considerate 
 English orentleman into an Italian Jesuit. 
 " And I fear," was my ending, " that this 
 l\Ir. Shepherd is one of those very liberal, 
 matter-of-fact persons, without imagination, 
 who would use Rosamond much too well, 
 and whom she could never bear ! " 
 
 " Fear!" was the angry reply, " it is you 
 men who are always fearing! We women 
 know better ; we have twice your courage, 
 as well as twice your hopefulness ! — I call 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 such delicate generosity, imagination of the 
 very best kind, for my part ; and, if I mis- 
 take not, Mrs. Rick will call it so too when 
 I return her visit ; for set her right I will, 
 if it is only to see that dove-iuith-tlie-olive- 
 hranch mouth of hers that she makes up 
 when she would so like to let loose." 
 
 " My dear, this is a private communica- 
 tion, which must on no account be divulged 
 — not even to Martha and Louis." 
 
 ^' But divulge it to Mrs. Rick I must and 
 will — anonymously or onymously. Dear 
 Rosamond ! see. how she makes friends able 
 and willing to take care of her wherever she 
 goes ! But can he have any idea, do you 
 suppose, Paul, that it is as much as four 
 thousand a-year ?" 
 
 " I wish I knew whether she had any idea 
 of the offer hanging over her ! Did she ever 
 mention the name of this gentleman in any 
 of her letters ? " 
 
 " Yes — no . . I am sure I don't recollect," 
 replied my wife, uneasily ; — who would 
 rather have died than owned, that at that 
 instant there did dawn on her mind some 
 expressions of contumely, in Rosamond's 
 earliest accounts of her London residence,
 
 A CHAPTER OF CORRESPONDENCE. 227 
 
 regarding a most intrusive person, whos3 
 advances, she said, had compelled her to 
 leave the Beaufort Hotel. But Mrs. Bell, like 
 a true woman, not only persuaded herself to 
 forget this inconvenient truth — but went the 
 farther length of conjuring up particulars 
 wdiich she had heard about Mr. Shepherd 
 som.ewhere — his goodness to his tenantry, 
 his comely looks, his solid good sense, his 
 sisters, or his cousins, (she was not quite 
 certain,) — but sisters or cousins there were! 
 
 '■' A charming, united family, I am confi- 
 dent I recollect some one calling the Shep- 
 herds ; and such a good, old, yeomanly, 
 English name ! — A Jesuit indeed — and so 
 that's all you know, Mrs. Rick ! " 
 
 It w^as in vain to moderate the good crea- 
 ture's assurance — which mounted to fever 
 heat on the least contradiction. I confess I 
 was far from participating in it ; and an- 
 swered Mr. Sheplierd's inquiry duly and ex- 
 plicitly — wdth a heavy, heavy heart. His 
 direct and over-liberal ways, I feared, argued 
 a man whom Rosamond would never accept. 
 Such a communication must have entirely 
 put an end to all our fancies, had w^e enter- 
 tained any, of remonstrating with Rosamond
 
 228 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 about tlie rumoured foreiiin match. It was 
 evident that no distant person was made 
 acquainted with the real state of her aifairs. 
 But the letter added to our solicitude — until 
 its import was driven from our mind, by yet 
 another communication, more mystifying it 
 seemed, in regard to Rosamond's real inten- 
 tions, than either of the above. 
 
 " Honoured madam," thus wrote I^elkson, 
 addressing my wife — " I address you in my 
 lady's total ignorance of my communicating 
 further than to inquire whether Mrs. Gib- 
 son's first floor has any hopes of being 
 vacant, about the period of Miss Martha's 
 nuptials, on which I beg my humble con- 
 gratulations, and for a few weeks earlier. 
 An answer at earliest convenience will 
 oblige Mrs. West wood — naming whether 
 Mrs. Gibson objects to furnish French mat- 
 tresses to her beds, no others being now laid 
 down in the best London families. With 
 regard to my mistress, honoured madam, 
 being acquainted with your humble servant's 
 affection for the former — I trust I may be 
 pardoned for taking the liberty of mention- 
 ing, that a great service would be done to
 
 A CHAPTER OF CORRESPONDENCE. 229 
 
 her, by yourself or Mr. Bell (to whom I so- 
 licit my duty) putting her on her guard 
 against designing people . . names, as too 
 personal, being withheld out of delicacy and 
 respect. Our condition of unprotection in 
 London, makes great circumspection neces- 
 sary — and many, alas ! are wilhng to flatter 
 widow ladies for the sake of loorldhj advan- 
 tages^ who would at once show^ themselves in 
 their true colours, did the storms of fortune 
 deprive us of our home comforts. — Personal 
 provocations, honoured madam, I trust you 
 will believe, have no share in my communi- 
 cation ; since I should scorn to turn again, 
 were people doubly aggravating — but respect 
 for the lamb-like innocence of your honoured 
 relative, and my beloved mistress, tends to 
 make it impossible for me to w^itness her 
 falling a prey to insidious machinations^ with- 
 out confiding my apprehensions to your 
 superior discretion, being, honoured madam, 
 — Yours, humbly and dutifully, 
 
 "Anne Nelkson." 
 
 " I wish ladies' maids were never taught 
 to spell more than words of two syllables," 
 was my wife's irritable comment, as she
 
 230 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 threw down the above letter. " What does 
 the woman mean ? — and French mattresses, 
 forsooth, in Halcyon Row ! — That's an in- 
 vention of her own ! I'll swear. Dear Rosa- 
 mond does not care whether she sleeps on a 
 mat or a mattress. And what she says 
 about designing people and insidious ma- 
 chinations, is another — I'll assert ! merely, I 
 am convinced, brought in for the sake of the 
 long ^vords. But I shall be glad when the 
 day is fixed, as dear Rosamond is really 
 coming to the wedding ! — I so long to see 
 her!"
 
 GREAT CONSPIRATOES. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 GREAT CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 There was a certain door filled "with 
 opaque glass, bordered with a stripe of red, 
 blue, and yellow, in the dim background of 
 a certain cigar shop, in a certain street not 
 far from Golden Square, which said little to 
 common customers beyond the fact, that it 
 opened into a small, ill lit, and worse fur- 
 nished parlour, where men who spoke no 
 English, might be found sitting on most 
 evenings of the week. — The parlour was 
 indeed avoided by all choice spirits, and gay 
 companions — on the account of "those dirty 
 foreigners," who had little money to spend, 
 and scarcely a domino box to entertain 
 themselves withal. Yet, when its chronicles 
 come to be written, it may figure among 
 other haunts notable in modern European 
 revolutions. 
 
 Nevertheless, it was not all pure patriotism,
 
 232 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 and high expatriated rank, that collected 
 there. Besides such sincere persons as 
 Count Montegrone — day by day more and 
 more leaden and dark in his complexion — 
 and Count Roccabella, day by day more 
 and more ardent in his certainty that the 
 good time was coming — there were such 
 beings as Monsieur Claudian. When was 
 ever there a conspiracy without a M. Clau- 
 dian ? a man without right to bear his 
 name — who might be a Pole, or an Alsatian, 
 or a Bohemian, though he spoke French 
 with the truest Parisian accent — who wore 
 that metallically beardless chin and cheek, 
 which tells of readiness to assume disguise 
 at a moment's warning — a man who looked 
 no one in the face, who gave ten cards with 
 ten different addresses, to different persons 
 — a man without family or friends ; some- 
 times to be seen in public with young and 
 beautiful women — a man who endured any 
 amount of neglect, contradiction, and insult — 
 who used every tone of appeal and of argu- 
 ment, from the finest irony to the most dog- 
 matic blood-thirstiness — who was sometimes 
 magnificently dressed and covered with jewels 
 (real, perhaps), sometimes as penuriously
 
 GREAT COXSPIRATORS. 2P.3 
 
 miserable in the livery he wore — a man whom 
 every one disliked, yet every one consulted ; 
 the man who, at last, is sure to go the way of 
 all former M. Claudians, — the way to the mar- 
 ket at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and its 
 secret police offices ! — He was rarely absent 
 from the Holy Thursday club,— such was affec- 
 tionately called the assembly which gathered 
 once a week in Sylvester's inner divan. 
 
 There, too, came Mr. Sparding Montmo- 
 rency, the English demagogue, with his frill, 
 and his large diamond brooch, worn — be- 
 cause, said he, " those aristocrats had been 
 used to abuse every one on the popular side, 
 as though they did not know how to dress 
 or behave themselves ; " a speaker whose 
 kindest words were in violent abuse of 
 luxury and comfort, respectability and law, 
 and at the superstitions of family affection. 
 On looking at so small and watery com- 
 plexioned a being, with his white eyelashes' 
 little darker than his white eyes, one might 
 have fancied him a creature to be routed by 
 a word or a frown from any scold outraged 
 by his vauntings.— -But the quietness and 
 feminine lisp of the small man only made 
 his talk all the more ferocious— talli as it
 
 234 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 was, of fire and slaughter, without pity, or 
 quarter, or discrimination. How he lived, 
 or rather on whom — Mr. Sparding Mont- 
 morency never condescended to reveal — how 
 should he ? seeing that he held his head high, 
 and that whenever a foreigner was mentioned, 
 he would boast how one Enghshman's every- 
 day probity was worth the self-sacrifice of a 
 whole town full of Italians, or a whole pro- 
 vince of Spanish honour. Yet it was known 
 that he had no fortune ; since that had been 
 swept away by the failure of his newspaper, 
 " The Liberty Tree," — that he had no home 
 — no resources. 
 
 What was still more curious was, that in 
 a haunt of this kind, and among such a 
 crew, might be seen every now and then 
 the f^ishionable tenore or haritono of the hour, 
 flinging about his money freely — eating 
 some coarse Italian dish with a greedy 
 gusto^ and giving a certain countenance and 
 nationality to the gathering, which must 
 have puzzled a stranger, had a stranger 
 made his way into the midst of it. Nor were 
 such apparitions wanting as English faces 
 on the shoulders of English gentlemen and 
 English statesmen who attended Sylvester's,
 
 GREAT CONSPIRATORS. 235 
 
 as they might have done a Mormon con- 
 venticle, or an execution, or a ball at Carrick- 
 fergus House — in search of excitement — 
 or, as they might have said themselves, to 
 give a proof of toleration and desire to 
 learn. There was Mr. Trivett, hand and glove 
 with many of the propaganda. He had 
 chosen to have his brotherly-love pamphlet 
 published by Mr. Marygold, the Chartist 
 publisher. 
 
 The idea of any criminal being punished 
 drove Mr. Trivett to write a letter to the Times, 
 or a speech in the House, or a sonnet ; and yet 
 he had given a supper to the farmer in a 
 smock-frock, who had officiated when Whit- 
 ing was hanged at Stafford for the murder 
 of his wife and four children ; so that, to be 
 logical, the sensations and consistencies of 
 Mr. Trivett's life would not have been com- 
 plete except he had dropped in, once or 
 twice during the session, for a cigar at 
 Sylvester's, (" conspiracy," said he, '' was so 
 nice!") On the evening, however, when 
 we are there, Mr. Trivett was absent — so 
 were Signor Gorgheggio and Signor Sjnanato 
 (the one at Paris, the other on his way to the 
 St. Petersburg opera). Then it is a known
 
 236 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 truth that Conspiracy, like other professions, 
 must go out of town in the months of Sep- 
 tember and October ; so that the few brothers 
 of freedom to be found in Sylvester's sane-- 
 twii were of the meanest chiss — belonging to 
 the persons generally neglected, if not pur- 
 posely avoided — and as such, in proportion, 
 gloomy and bitter. 
 
 The night was damp, and the darkness of 
 the den was not cheered by the faces of 
 three or four men muffled up in their cloaks, 
 who were crouching over the sulky fire 
 beneath the gas-light, half turned up. 
 
 "No Claudian again to-night?" began 
 one speaker. " Umph!" was the sarcastic 
 reply, ^' Claudian proves his love for his 
 country by loving English country houses ! 
 Catch him in their charming London at this 
 time of the year, so long as they will let him 
 stay at Marbleton : — teaching French — as he 
 pretends, and killing partridges — and older 
 birds still ! Claudian knows w hat he's about. 
 There's a vieille jille at Marbleton, with some 
 fifteen thousand pounds of her own . . . 
 Hein! ... If Claudian can get hold of Lady 
 Marcia, we shall not be troubled with much 
 more of his company here. They little
 
 GREAT CONSPIRATORS. 237 
 
 know — these English people — whom they 
 have to do with ! " 
 
 '' Lady Marcia should know by this time, 
 though," .... l)roke in another speaker, 
 flinging away the end of his cigar ; " and 
 she does. But if she won't take an unknown 
 friend's warning" 
 
 ''''Bah! how much has Claudian paid 
 you, Hippolyte, to warn her ? — as if any body 
 ever minded an anonymous letter now-a- 
 days, except to make them persevere. 
 What have you got by 'em, I should like to 
 know. They hurt nobody, they upset no- 
 body ; and it's my belief that, whether the 
 postage is paid or whether it is not paid, 
 people are so used to 'em that they won't 
 read 'em half through." 
 
 '' Or, if they do," observed No. 3, in a 
 small philosophical voice, " they read them 
 over to some police-officer . . . Claudian has 
 paid Hippolyte, as you say, Bastien." 
 
 "Claudian be !" was Hippolyte's 
 
 amiable comment. " Paid ! I should like 
 to see where our money is to come from for 
 the next three weeks. Claudian has not 
 paid any body a penny that I know of for 
 these six months past."
 
 238 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 "Well," said the smaller-voiced man, 
 " he has done work if he has laid down no 
 money, and that's more than some of us can 
 say, Master Hippolyte ! Twice back- 
 wards and twice forwards to Lausanne — in 
 three weeks . . . and who paid for that ?" 
 
 "Why, Mr. Trivett, you idiot!" replied 
 the grumbler, with a sneer ..." Claudian 
 persuaded him that there was information 
 to be got up about the Austrian police .... 
 and so ... . Who's outside ?" 
 
 All three turned instantaneously: — and 
 then dropped into silence. There was no 
 one, however, in the cigar shop. 
 
 " Well, pay or not pay," said Bastien, 
 resuming the conversation, after a stealthy 
 reconnoitre through the glass door, and a 
 noiseless return to the fire, " I'm for no 
 more of your letter-writing, Hippolyte ! 
 Gregory's quite correct about that. If you 
 hate a man, what does it do? why, only 
 helps him, to be sure! Look at Monte- 
 grone! Have your letters hindered his 
 getting one single lesson ? though he's no 
 more fit to teach Italian than this poker, and 
 ugly enough to make every woman sick 
 that looks at him."
 
 GREAT CONSPIRATORS. 239 
 
 A laugh was the answer . . . ''Do you 
 know how much Montegrone pays to the 
 people who could stop the anonymous 
 
 letters being written if they would ? 
 
 Forty francs a month he laid down while 
 the season went on ; or, if not he, some one 
 for him — that beauty Roccabella ! " 
 
 " Then, in Heaven's name," screamed the 
 other two, " how could you be such an idiot 
 as to stop ? " 
 
 Hippolyte gave another ugly laugh .... 
 " Did I stop ? Perhaps I've not got paid 
 my last three months' allowance, that's all ! 
 . . . Perhaps our beautiful paymaster has 
 had something else to do : — now that he is 
 going to be married to this English widow 
 with her million of money." . . . 
 
 " A million ! . . . No, Pll never believe 
 that Roccabella's woman has a million/' cried 
 the other two men almost in a breath, 
 " Have you written to lierf'' 
 
 " Come, I do suppose you think me an 
 idiot," said the other man sulkily, lighting a 
 fresh cigar. " Let's let them get married 
 
 first .... and then but what's the 
 
 good of explaining any thing to fellows such 
 as you ? . . . Well, as it seems there are not
 
 240 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 enoudi of us here to make a meetin^i: to- 
 night, I'm off," . . . and, as he spoke, Hippo- 
 lyte rose, flung his cloak over the lower part 
 of his flxce, and, with a sullen nod, was out 
 of the" shop in an instant. By regulation, 
 no one loitered, no one made noise, when 
 departing from Sylvester's. 
 
 " What is he about now, Gregory ? " said 
 Bastien, after another moment of dead 
 silence. 
 
 " Some work or other, be sure, that he 
 won't share. That Hippolyte is a thorough 
 scoundrel ; I wonder whether he knows that 
 the Princess has got back to Paris? " 
 
 '^ The Princess ! the devil ! . . . Rocca- 
 bella's Princess?" 
 
 " That's it, Bastien and got back to 
 
 Paris, they say, with a free pardon, and a lot 
 of money. . . . It's a mystery to me where all 
 those Polish women manage to get their for- 
 tunes from ! She cannot be a Russian spy, 
 Gregory, can she ?" 
 
 " How should /know ? — She does her spy- 
 ing after young and handsome men, that's 
 all: — and mad she was about Roccabella, till 
 they broke oif, and she went from Paris, and 
 he came here ; but let thera only meet face
 
 GREAT CONSPIRATOES. 241 
 
 to face again — unless she has found some- 
 thing more to her liking in the mean time — 
 and now that she has got her money back 
 — why, I should like to see what this 
 English widow of his will make of it ! — 
 There's some business to be done among 
 the three, Bastien .... if it can be kept 
 from Hippolyte. Can't he be got out of 
 town? . . . Hush! is not that he coming 
 back again ?" 
 
 Both men started to their feet — there was 
 nobody. They did not again settle into 
 conversation or confidence, such as theirs 
 was ; — and, as no more members dropped 
 in, the fire went out, and the gas was turned 
 down in Sylvester's back-room within ten 
 minutes after the last words of the above 
 edifying dialogue were spoken. 
 
 Alas, for sentiment! I must add, on the 
 strength of after knowledge, that, betwixt 
 Aurelia Montegrone and Rosamond West- 
 wood, a Princess had intervened to influence 
 the horoscope of the handsome and im- 
 passioned Count Roccabella. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 242 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 CHAPTER XVl. 
 
 SETTLEMENTS. 
 
 Pretty nearly about the same time that the 
 trapdoor, which we have opened at Sylvester's, 
 closed, Rosamond made her announcement 
 good by arriving at Manchester — as she said 
 on arriving, " to see good little Martha hap- 
 pily and respectably married." Why, when 
 she said that, did she fling herself in tears 
 on my wife's neck? 
 
 My wife is the most honest of women. 
 " Rosamond, dear," said she, when the emo- 
 tion had passed, " is it only to see Martha 
 married that you have come down to 
 Manchester? We have heard something 
 about you ! — Mrs. Rick has been over, dear, 
 — and letters have come. Now, you know, 
 Paul and I are homely people, and good for 
 little — but we, are grateful; and so, if you 
 want any thir)g, — be it service — or some-
 
 SETTLEMENTS. 243 
 
 body to talk to — or somebody to stand by 
 you, through fire and water .... What 
 is it?" 
 
 Out flashed Rosamond in a justifiable fit of 
 anger against Mrs. Rick — " What right had 
 that woman to meddle — what had she been 
 writing ? — Lies ! calumnies, lowering in- 
 sinuations ! " 
 
 "Then it is Mr. Shepherd !" shouted my 
 wife, in her loudest Lancashire voice, (and 
 we have loud voices in Lancashire.) " 0, I 
 am so glad ! — how glad I am it is not one of 
 those Italians ! " 
 
 "Mr. Shepherd ?" said Rosamond crim- 
 soning. " Really .... One might have 
 hoped that Mr. Shepherd had not tracked 
 me out so far as to my friends' houses 
 in Manchester." 
 
 " But he did, Rosamond — the dear man 
 did," went on my wife — full of her own hopes 
 — " he wrot^ to Paul, Mr. Shepherd did, 
 merely to mention — a king could not have 
 mentioned it more delicately — his idea, that 
 in case . . . (You know, my dear what I 
 allude to) and so to beg Paul — or somebody 
 ... or any thing . . to explain to you, 
 that in admiring you ... he was totally
 
 244 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 apart from money . . . and that he was 
 anxious (most anxious) to prove himself so, 
 by making settlements equivalent to any 
 loss you might sustain by a second marriage. 
 child ! you who have been so good to us 
 (our good fairy, we call you), you can't — 
 no, you can't guess — what this has been to 
 us — Mr. Shepherd's letter. Real bahn, I 
 may truly call it." 
 
 Rosamond sate dumb — for she did not 
 want to hurt my wife — especially consider- 
 ing their mutual relations ; but I saw by 
 her face that all was a mistake, and pre- 
 mature on the part of Mrs. Bell ; and that 
 our guest had something to tell, which she 
 found a double difficulty in telling after 
 such an assault of congratulations. Do 
 women ever really consider women ? I 
 answer, ^' No " — having watched the pro- 
 ceedings of my better half (who is still a good 
 creature) with her daughters. 
 
 And so, nothing came of this talk, and 
 nothing of my wife's explosion that night; 
 for Rosamond only shrunk and shivered-, 
 and said " Yes^'' in all manner of inaccurate 
 places ; and repeated over and over again, 
 that she had merely come down to Manches-
 
 SETTLEMENTS. 245 
 
 ter to see Martha married — merely. I ob- 
 served that, so often as ^elkson (her 
 faithful maid) came in and out, she looked 
 telegraphic and mysterious — and winked 
 with a sort of " God bless us wink " — to- 
 wards myself especially, — but this passed for 
 the first evenino; without further explana- 
 tion. There was a cloud — an unsettlement, 
 a passing blight — an electrical influence 
 among us — we felt; and my wife scolded 
 our maid that night with a directness which 
 has had no parallel before nor since. Perhaps 
 it was the weather. 
 
 But, in the morning, dear Rosamond 
 chose to come in very early — and chose to 
 talk to me alone — and chose to tell me 
 all ... . " Somebody intended to follow 
 her," she said — " who had been to her . . . 
 who luas So good a man — so de- 
 voted a man so handsome a man. 
 
 And he is not poor, nothing of the kind ! 
 ... a rich, generous, gracious nobleman ! 
 Cousin — the long and short is — I am go- 
 ing to marry Count Roccabella ! " 
 
 " 0, my dear ! " I gasped out, and squeez- 
 ed her hand. Thank God that I said no- 
 thing more disparaging, which, under circum-
 
 246 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 stances, was a thing to be thankful for 
 afterwarcjs. I could not help going on. 
 " But does he know — does he, Rosamond — 
 that if you marry a second time, hoiv you 
 marry ? — Does he know all ? " 
 
 Her face positively flamed in answer to 
 my inquiry— as she cried '^ Knoiv^ cousin! 
 .... Do you suppose I want to know what 
 he may or may not have found out ? — Do 
 you fancy I doubt him ? Do you imagine I 
 am going to set myself up as one making 
 any sacrifice?" 
 
 ''I want to know — and I must!'' was my 
 reply — "because recollect, dear Rosamond, 
 I am a man of business and your trustee." 
 
 "Without power to prevent," was her 
 insolent repartee — for a woman in love is 
 the boldest animal in repartee existing — 
 '^Without power to hinder my doing any 
 thing that I please to do ! — Now, my dear 
 cousin, don't let us come to words. I love 
 you and your family. You were kind to 
 me when nobody else was," and here 
 Rosamond cried much — "I shall never 
 forget that ... . but don't say a syllable 
 against him ! He was sure you would not 
 like it — for I told him how kind you had
 
 SETTLEMENTS. 247 
 
 been ! " — More tears at this — and, for aught 
 I could see to the contrary, a hysteric 
 coming. 
 
 " Is it settled, then," — said I — " or do j^ou 
 want advice ? " 
 
 "IT IS"- said she.— ''What I want 
 now is not advice, and not countenance, but 
 assistance." 
 
 " And you know that he has any fortune ? " 
 said I, stiffening myself up into the man of 
 business . . . . " May I seek into this ? be- 
 cause, Rosamond, if he has not iTo, . . . 
 
 we cannot let this marriaoe go on — and we 
 will not let Martha's either ! — It's all very 
 well, but .... but "... . 
 
 Her answer was — "He is coming down 
 this evening. Talk to him." In similar 
 encounters a man is always worsted by a 
 woman. — I felt ill-assured, displeased, dis- 
 mayed, and terrified as regarded Rosamond — 
 but there she was — and that she would do — 
 and what else could one say ? 
 
 The evening brought Count Roccabella 
 down to Manchester. 
 
 Why is it that Heaven gives to some men 
 and women a charm apart from esteem, or 
 love, or approval, or power of convincing ?
 
 248 BOCCABELLA. 
 
 Surely, as one among the many evidences 
 of inequality on this side of the curtain, which 
 claim another time and place of reckoning, 
 for every immortal being who does not find 
 his true measure here. It will not do to say, 
 that I did not like — that I did not listen — 
 I .... I was fascinated, and nothing short 
 of it by that wonderful Count Roccabella. 
 Had he chosen to change his mind there and 
 then on the spot, — to jilt Rosamond, and to 
 propose for Martha instead, (T have read of 
 such fickleness in novels) — I am satisfied 
 that I for one should have withstood him 
 less furiously than a trustee and a father 
 should or does — in novels. 
 
 *^ What did he say to you, my dear ?" said 
 Mrs. Bell, getting me out of the room for 
 an instant into the passage ; and with a face 
 as frightened as if she had been about some- 
 thing wrong. 
 
 " 1 don't know, my love — I hardly know 
 — that is — but he's a real gentleman." 
 
 " What a fool you are, Paul ; why should 
 he not?" was the answer. "But we must 
 not both absent ourselves ! I wish — that I 
 do — that Martha had not seen him till she 
 was married."
 
 SETTLEMENTS. 249 
 
 Our little daughter, however, stout and 
 steady in her own happy prospects, was the 
 soberest of the three, so far as our splendid- 
 lookino^ o^uest's fascinations were concerned. 
 When Mrs. Bell and I returned, he was 
 sitting between her and Eosamond, talking 
 to the girl about " Grouse," as he called 
 Grayhouse, — and the privileges which Pro- 
 testant clergymen enjoy of being able to 
 marry, — and admiring her wonderful knit- 
 tin of, as so tall an Englishman would think it 
 frivolous to do .... And thou2:h Martha 
 smiled and was amused, she never laid 
 by, what our children used to call ''her 
 judging face," and was more occupied, I 
 think, in watching Rosamond than in exa- 
 mining Rosamond's choice. 
 
 I liked, hoAvever, to hear the handsome 
 and happy Italian suddenly say — stopping 
 at the outset of some story about Signor 
 Spianato's answer to the Austrian ambassa- 
 dor — "But, Mr. Bell, my dear, when have you 
 some leisure — for some a — conversation ? 
 
 .... To-morrow, my dear — will you? 
 but you will do what you think with me — 
 for business is not my strong point." 
 
 "0, no business to-night, cousin," cried
 
 250 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 Rosaraond, " I had enough of it, Salvatore, 
 from Mr. Bessell, the last few days I was in 
 London, to hate the very name of it. Go 
 on with the story of Signor Spianato and the 
 Austrian ambassadress! What was his answer 
 to her ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " said the Count, changing in a 
 second, as no EngUshman could have done. 
 "This is not a long story — When Spianato 
 came to London at first. Princess Djiazy, 
 Austrian ambassadress — went about telling 
 every where that he never enter their doors 
 — and why ? because Spianato was a liberal. 
 She thought she could prevent him — and he 
 knew it. Che importa I When a man can sing 
 as Spianato does, and is of such good man- 
 ner. Well, before the first six weeks were 
 out, no . . . never was any thing like the 
 fashion of that good Spianato ! Pie dine 
 here — he must sup there. Duchess of 
 Brownshire — she always send her own 
 carriage to wait for Spianato, and travel him 
 home from opera (Duchess once in carriage 
 herself . . . but that may be tale). Well, 
 what happens ? Princess Djiazy wish to 
 give grand party to King and Queen — and 
 Queen says to Princess, the week before,
 
 SETTLEMENTS. 251 
 
 'I'm dying to hear Spianato in private 
 sing.' — Come, so she must — Princess must 
 make up to the Italian singer too By Jove ! 
 — very well ! — They thought Spianato would 
 not go her house . . . Bah ! He laughed at 
 all that ! Che importa! ^ Go, why not ? I sing,* 
 he said, ^ and she pay.' Spianato keep Prin- 
 cess waiting a week, six, seven, ten days — 
 ere he let her be sure he go to sing at her 
 party! you should see, when she salute 
 him, the bow he made to her. — Every one 
 laugh but Princess ; — for she had been too 
 saucy, and boast too much — and there she 
 was, you see ! So she began all manner of 
 civil, and she tell Spianato how she cry at 
 ^ Otello,' and she say, ' Enchante d' entendre, 
 Monsieur, que vous avez fait une si bonne 
 affaire id.'' ''Affaire, madameV was his 
 answer, '' Les affaires sont pour les diplomates ; 
 71' est ce pas? inoi je fais la musique.' She say 
 very little more to Spianato that night, — 
 poor Princess did." 
 
 The sweet face, the animated manner, the 
 gay little gesticulations of the speaker, were 
 more to us than the anecdote will be to 
 others. But it was anxious work to see 
 how intensely Rosamond was interested in
 
 252 R0CCAJ3ELLA. 
 
 the narrator, no matter whether he had told 
 sense or nonsense. 
 
 "Paul !" said Mrs. Bell to me, when the 
 door was shut — Rosamond gone to her 
 lodgings — and her betrothed to some horrible 
 paltry inn or other — ^we had nothing else then 
 in Manchester! — "Paul, if that man takes 
 that woman to Italy, I should not wonder 
 if she loses her senses." 
 
 " But he cannot take her to Italy," was 
 ray practical answer. " He cannot go there 
 himself, you know, being a refugee ! " 
 
 " But I wouldj'' was my wife's reply. " I 
 would go there if I was in her case — I would 
 make him take me ! — Poor dear sweet Rosa- 
 mond ! " 
 
 I went early on the folloAving morning to 
 Count Roccabella, and though I found him 
 in that curious dress which foreigners select 
 to wear before they go out and pay visits — 
 a Ions: bed-o-own, it seemed to me — I was 
 more struck with his grand looks, and his 
 good manner, even than I had been the 
 evening before, when I had seen him neatly 
 arranged and trying to please women. In 
 truth, there seemed no pettiness, nor reserve 
 about him ; on the contrary, a full gracious
 
 SETTLEMENTS. 253 
 
 kindliness, ready to expand itself over all 
 whom he adopted. Dear Rosamond might 
 have painted us — a homely Lancashire 
 couple — as angels, to judge from his manner. 
 Or did he fancy that any thing y/as to be 
 gained by pleasing us ? Such a notion did 
 cross my mind — but I drove it out, with a 
 "Fie !" We English people, in country places, 
 are apt to be too suspicious. 
 
 It was Count Eoccabella's wish to explain 
 to me, that under the circumstances of exile, 
 in which he was about to be married, and 
 belonging as he did to a family some of 
 whom held opinions entirely different to his 
 own — it was impossible for him to make 
 any settlement on my connection. "It 
 sounds strange — it must seem so to you, 
 because every one knows that I have money 
 to spend and money to spare ; but my money, 
 let me explain, is only income, which comes 
 to me from some of my family who are too 
 honourable to cheat me of what I should 
 have, were I at home on my own lake ; and 
 nothing that I could say or do would find 
 any among them willing to continue remit- 
 ting a sou to any foreign widow of mine, 
 supposing .So that it is indispen-
 
 254 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 sable that every penny of Mrs. Westwood's 
 fortune" 
 
 A start from me cut him short; for, indeed, 
 had I been shot, I could have been hardly 
 more astounded. '^Eosamond's fortune! " I 
 echoed — " Rosamond's fortune ! " I repeated, 
 to gain a little composure — for then, too, 
 it leaped into my mind like a thunderbolt, 
 that every sixpence of Rosamond's ready 
 money must have been disposed of, and more 
 — plate, jewels, perhaps — in the purchase 
 of the living of Gray house, for our Louis 
 and Martha ! 
 
 ^^ Rosamond's fortune," I stammered out, 
 — the third time: — "Has no one told you 
 that Rosamond's fortune goes from her if she 
 makes a second marriage ? " 
 
 He, too, looked as if a shot had struck 
 him — but his amazement took the form of 
 instant stillness. His face became half a 
 dozen shades more intense in its bronze 
 than it had been a second before — ^^ No one 
 has told me this," was his answer — and like 
 me, anxious to gain a moment, perhaps, he 
 repeated, "No one — May I ask? " . . . . and 
 he then curbed himself suddenly — his face 
 darkening with a frown, which haunted me
 
 SETTLEMENTS. 255 
 
 for many a day afterwards — "!N"o: what 
 need is there to ask? . ... as you did not 
 do me the honour of acquainting me with 
 this earlier. — You are Mrs. Westwood's 
 trustee ; are you not, Mr. Bell ? " 
 
 "I am, sir; — but sfive me leave to ask 
 why I should have acquainted you with any 
 affairs reo^ardino; Mrs. Westwood's fortune 
 earlier? You cannot suppose that any of 
 us could dream of wishing to entrap any one 
 to marry her." 
 
 "^o, Mr. Bell! — but to entrap her to 
 marry me — that is another question. She is 
 in love with me now ! I have tried to make 
 her in love with me : and not in vain. — She 
 will go on now. — Whatever you say or do 
 she will go on ! — Heaven knows, if, knowing 
 as much as I do now — and being a man of 
 honour — I should have tried to engage her 
 affections, and engage them to her ruin ! — 
 It .... it ... . Sir, I cannot think well of 
 either your prudence or your care of 
 Rosamond, in the part of concealment you 
 have acted." 
 
 '• Part of concealment ! " I exclaimed, 
 almost as excited as he had been ; " do you 
 suppose, sir, that Mrs. Bell and myself have
 
 256 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 been acting parts ? What pleasure could it 
 give us ? — v\rhat advantage — if you have so 
 poor an idea of us, as to think we wish to take 
 advantage of a defenceless woman — our re- 
 lation?" 
 
 ^' Who succeeds to the money ? " asked the 
 Count, with an abruptness which in an 
 Englishman would have been insult: "You, 
 not ? '^ 
 
 ''- 1 do not know," was my reply — '' It is 
 left in trust to Mr. Oliphant and myself, 
 under sealed instructions, which we are not 
 to open until .Mrs. Westwood's marriage 
 with any one else shall have taken place. — 
 I shall require that you convince yourself of 
 the fact; since I do not expect you to believe 
 my assertion, that the disposition is as un- 
 pleasant as it was unexpected. Why did 
 ydu not make due inquiries of Rosamond, 
 or of myself? It is late, now, to change 
 your mind — but it is unjust to lay on us the 
 blame of a difficulty which has been caused 
 by your own want of caution. But indeed, 
 — and believe me, sir, — the affair had better 
 go no further. Better a little suffering now 
 than much hereafter." 
 
 He sate stiller for five minutes than I sus-
 
 SETTLEMENTS. 257 
 
 pect was his wont — ^looking gloomy, and 
 not altogether convinced, and I fancied, 
 (knowing him, as I did, so imperfectly) 
 undecided. Then he began to dress himself, 
 to tear on his clothes, I should say, — almost 
 striding over me in his haste, and muttering 
 vehemently to himself in Italian. — " Do let 
 me," said I — seeing that no answer would 
 come — " persuade you to wait, at least, till 
 you have well considered what must be so 
 disagreeable a surprise to you. You may 
 be bringing poverty and distress on two 
 persons : yourself, by displeasing your family, 
 and her, by enticing her into a sacrifice for 
 which you can offer her no compensation." 
 
 He paid no attention to a single word I 
 said — not, apparently, so much because he 
 was keeping down impatience — but because, 
 I verily believe, he did not hear me, so full 
 was he of the storm of his own purposes. It 
 was a wonder how he got into his clothes; 
 but he was dressed in a second, and out of 
 the room, and out of the inn, and out of the 
 street, before I could think thrice what I had 
 best say and do next. 
 
 Heaven forgive me! but the vulgar old 
 English suspicion of foreign adventurers came 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 back to me, and came back — which was 
 natural — like a comfort. Supposing he was 
 oif for good and all, being disappointed in 
 the spoil he had expected ! When I hinted 
 this to my wife, as we sat at breakfast, be- 
 fore I went across to see what could be done 
 for Eosamond, Mrs. Bell brandished the tea- 
 pot with such a provoked face, that I thought 
 she was going to smash it at my head. Her 
 hand was stayed by a note from Rosamond, 
 expressive of a desire to pass the day alone 
 — " She had business to transact," it said, 
 " and business, moreover, in which no onCj 
 not even Martha, her favourite, could help 
 her." 
 
 In the evening she walked in, taller, 
 prouder, more brilliant than ever. The 
 Count Roccabella, she said, had gone to 
 town to make immediate preparations for 
 their marriage, " It is to be here, of course," 
 said she; "and you will give me away, of 
 course. Cousin Bell. One, and only one 
 condition I have made, that it is to be on 
 Martha's wedding-day. Was I, or was I not 
 right? You see that it is not for my money 
 that he takes me! "
 
 LEAVE-TAKINGS. 259 
 
 CHAPTEH XYII. 
 
 LEAVE-TAKINGS. 
 
 We often refer to the time which inter- 
 vened betwixt Count Roccabella's departure 
 and Rosamond's wedding, as to one of the 
 most trying periods we have ever passed 
 through — days of indecision as to whether it 
 was possible to reconcile discordant matters, 
 I kept saying to myself that " something 
 should be done;" but what could anyone 
 do with Rosamond? She seemed to be more 
 in love than any woman I had ever set eyes 
 on — to be writing every hour to the Italian, 
 not, of course, communicating a word of 
 what she wrote, or what he answered. Her 
 house in Park Street was given up — that we 
 knew ; and we knew, too, that it was their 
 intention to proceed to the Continent, mak- 
 ing only a brief stay in London, immediately 
 after the wedding. " Business — important
 
 260 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 business," Rosamond said, with a flashing 
 eye, " called him abroad, and would detain 
 him in London till the very day before the 
 ceremony ; and since you do not like him," she 
 added, with a convulsive laugh, ^4tis I, and 
 1 only, who shall suffer by his absence. 
 Never mind, I can wait, — when such as he 
 have had to wait." — This was all that Rosa- 
 mond confided to us. Some hurried bridal 
 preparations were set a-going; for on com- 
 municating with Mr. Bessell, it appeared that 
 some hundreds still remained to Rosamond's 
 credit. But we implied that the bride was 
 preparing for retrenchment. We hoped that 
 this did not mean separation of herself from 
 all who had cared for her in the former days 
 of her wedlock and widowhood; but there 
 was cause for some apprehension. 
 
 ^'It would make a Paterson swear," said 
 Mrs. Nelkson, one evening suddenly present- 
 ing herself within the door of the parlour 
 where my wife and I were sitting, '' to think 
 of Mrs. Westwood selecting to dispense with 
 my services, at this time of all times. It is 
 all very well for her to tell me that I don't 
 know the languages — and that I shall be 
 only a charge to her, in foreign countries :
 
 LEAYE-TAKINGS. 261 
 
 as if I had not shown resources when we 
 were two lonely creatures up there together, 
 in London, at a period when none of those 
 showy, fine Italians had entered the scene ! 
 I would ask you, Mrs. Bell, if you please, is 
 it becoming that I should part from her, 
 now — when she is going to pass into dubi- 
 ous hands belonging to a party of .another 
 religion ? Not but that I daresay she 
 will turn a Catholic too — just as those 
 Winterbottoms did, one and all." 
 
 " 0, I hope there is some mistake," said 
 my wife, " and that she will not really send 
 away an attached and valuable servant like 
 yourself, Mrs. JSTelkson ! " 
 
 "That's just what Mr. Blosse said at first 
 when I communicated it to him, madam — 
 though Mr. Blosse now declares that he is 
 likely to be the gainer by the step, — not that 
 I lay stress on persons' male flatteries, — since 
 I told him that he might have waited long 
 for me, and opened his establishment by 
 himself, if my lady had been reasonable. 
 Poor thing ! she's as wilful as a child, born 
 or unborn ; generous as the day — but care- 
 less. Why, ma'am, she never knows where to 
 find the smallest thing ; and as for prudence
 
 262 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 — the only time T ever recollect her turning 
 ^ key for herself was the day she locked up 
 her new bonnet in the plate closet, and de- 
 fied me to prove it had ever been sent home 
 from Madame Anatole's, — and then wrote off 
 post haste for another; and it was not till 
 the day of their next dinner-party, when the 
 silver dishes were in request, and then, lo and 
 behold ! out came the bonnet — a pea-green 
 silk it was, with acacia branches. — What's 
 she to do, if she goes abroad without me, 
 but to lose every object of value she pos- 
 sesses in the world, and to be pillaged worse 
 than Mrs. Pendragon was, when the banditti 
 stripped her of all her possessions, and left 
 her tied to a tree, without garments, and 
 covered with an old horse cloth ? Somewhere 
 in Italy, that was too I What is ray mistress 
 to do ? " 
 
 What, indeed ? occurred to us both. 
 
 '^ If I had been greedy, like Mrs. Botting's 
 Eliza," continued the voluble w^oman, warm- 
 ing as she went on — " If I had been disre- 
 spectful — or over-curious, — but no, caution 
 actuated me from first to last. Mr. Shep- 
 herd did his utmost (a next-door neighbour 
 of ours in town, sir) to conciliate my good
 
 LEAVE-TAKINGS. 263 
 
 word — not that any thing mean was tried 
 by him; I muSt say, on the contrary, all was 
 over-board and graceful. But when I saw 
 the current setting against Mr. Shepherd — 
 did I ever remonstrate a word ? Not I — I 
 discountenanced him vigorously ; I mention- 
 ed to him that I was not a lady's maid sucji 
 as one hears of in plays, who blows hot or 
 cold in obedience to the dictates of gold! 
 I did not conceal that he had my good 
 wishes — but hearts, I reminded him, were 
 not to be controlled — and that his must be 
 nipped in the bud. Yet present after present 
 might I have had, if I would only have 
 sailed under more propitious colours, and 
 lured him along ! Well, after all this 
 to be dismissed ! No, Mrs. Bell, flesh and 
 blood can t acquiesce, when I love my lady, 
 as I do . . . and when I see her floating to 
 the edge of the precipice — who's to stand by 
 her then ? " 
 
 " I fear," said I, really disturbed at what 
 we heard — "that if Mrs. Westwood has 
 decided on letting you go from her, there 
 would be no use in our interfering." 
 
 "Indeed, sir, I concede to that — and it is 
 more to ease my mind I have taken this
 
 264 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 liberty than from self-interested hopes — 
 Pray Heaven that it lasts ! 0, sir — I hope 
 this new gentleman will be kind to my 
 lady ! " 
 
 ^' Have you any reason to suspect the 
 contrary ? " asked Mrs. Bell. 
 
 "Nothing definite nor to lay hold of, 
 ma'am: — Nothing my lady would bear to 
 hear me whisper : but friends of mine, who 
 have been abroad, ma'am, have met Count 
 Roccabella, and in other circumstances : and 
 I fear he has always been used to pay court 
 to the ladies, and has not received as many 
 ^ noes ' as would have been prudent on the 
 part of some. — But Heaven forbid I should 
 make mischief I There's enough as it is, 
 without my finger in the pie. No : what I 
 wanted to intercede you to do, Mrs. Bell, and 
 Mr. Bell too, is this, — arguing is of no 
 good, and promising is of no good — and 
 indeed now, having given my word to 
 Mr. Blosse, I could hardly recede without 
 inconsistency — and 1 know that for the 
 present my lady would rather be without me : 
 but do tell her from me, that if prospects 
 were to change, and clouds to descend, she 
 has only to hold up a finger, and I will be
 
 LEAVE-TAKINGS. 265 
 
 at her beck and call at any moment, if it 
 was as distant as Tartary ; — and that I 
 expressly stated as much to Mr. Blosse in 
 pen and ink before I acceded to crown 
 his wishes." 
 
 '^j^elkson," said I, "you are a good crea- 
 ture ; but I hope with all my heart she will 
 never need you on those terms. So you are 
 going to be established yourself: where, 
 
 "The library, sir, in Pewterer's Passage, 
 near this, being vacated, Mr. Blosse, to 
 whom service has never been congenial, is 
 entering on it at Lady-day. We do not 
 build high, but trust it may suffice us — 
 works of fiction principally, with books for 
 children and the use of schools. I shall like, 
 sir, to be near you; for I shall thus take the 
 liberty to hear from time to time how my lady 
 is going on. Indeed, I would not have quitted 
 her for any change of condition, were it 
 thrice as advantageous, .had not such been 
 her own mandate." 
 
 There was some comfort in knowing that 
 we could have so good a creature, and so 
 devoted a follower of Rosamond's, near us, 
 though her language, as my wife expressed
 
 266 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 it, was ^'affectation's self;" — but we felt the 
 entire scheme to be somewhat dismal and 
 full of uncertainty, so far as concerned our 
 relative. The day after this oration of 
 Nelkson's, Mrs. Bell tried to approach 
 Rosamond on the subject, and to remonstrate. 
 Nothing, however, was to be done with her-. 
 "Nelkson," she said, "had been many years 
 engaged to marry Mr. Blosse, and she could 
 no longer think herself justified in interpos- 
 ing her own convenience betwixt that good 
 woman and a quiet English home. Fancy 
 Nelkson," she said, " roughing it in Italy . . . 
 or if ... . The long and the short is, that I 
 am entering on a new life to which she 
 cannot belong, and in which she would but 
 distress me. Ah ! you think I can do 
 nothing for myself. You may live to see ! 
 1 mean to work as hard as the poorest 
 woman." 
 
 "Well, darling, if you are set on hard 
 work," was my ^ood woman's reply — 
 ^' but meanwhile, in one thing I will have 
 ^my own way. — Marry from any lodging you 
 shall not. You shall go from under our 
 roof, (I know it's a poor one !) but here you 
 must come and stay the last days.
 
 LEAVE-TAKINGS. 267 
 
 Rosamond ! — something tells me you will 
 never belong to the old places or the old 
 friends again." .... 
 
 ''Ah, my dear Mrs. Bell! perhaps, if you 
 had given me Martha for a companion, I 
 should never have taken a husband," was 
 the answer in a reckless tone, which we 
 could neither like nor understand. " Yes, I 
 shall like to come and be married from your 
 house — as I have no mother." 
 
 *' Other people have mothers," said Mrs. 
 Bell to me when we were alone at night. I 
 knew what m}^ wife meant, and what she ex- 
 pected — and all that we expected happened, 
 nay, more. — Great fractiousness on the part 
 of the mother of Louis, Mrs. Marshall, who, 
 taving come out again after many months 
 of confinement, thought she had right to be 
 consulted and humoured in the arrangements 
 for her son's wedding-day. She had never 
 been sufficiently impressed with Rosamond's 
 unexpected generosity: so great was her 
 opinion of Louis and his talents, that it 
 seemed only natural that all manner of 
 livings were to drop into his mouth. Having, 
 we imagine, made up her mind to pay a 
 perpetual visit at Grayhouse, it was most
 
 268 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 distasteful to her to hear Louis had resolved 
 to take pupils from the first ; and many tart 
 allusions were thrown out by her, which 
 used to make my wife twitch her face and 
 pretend not to hear, in order that she mi^ht 
 avoid answering. — Then, Mrs. Marshall had 
 set her heart on an old-fashioned sociable 
 wedding for Louis and Martha. She had 
 promised Mrs. Brudge and Mr. and Mrs. 
 Spindleton, and the three Miss le Grands to 
 be present : and before Rosamond had come 
 down to Manchester, she had consulted my 
 wife about the breakfast, the dinner, and the 
 supper. " It was the only great occasion of 
 her life since she had been married herself," 
 she would say, " and now, here it was going 
 to be taken out of her mouth ! — Why could 
 not Mrs. Westwood and the foreigner be 
 married in their own Romish way — and on a 
 day of their own, instead of spoiling every 
 thing ? She knew she should not utter a 
 word before such grand people ; and if she 
 was not to be comfortable, she would rather 
 not ask her old friends, to make them sit on 
 thorns too. — She would not." 
 
 We joined eagerly in Mrs. Marshall's 
 proposal to defer all the jovial doings, in
 
 LEAVE-TAKINGS. 269 
 
 which her neighbours were to take part : 
 but, unless Louis had helped us, the peace 
 must, I think, have been broken. I saw, with 
 pleasure, that our little girl was already ex- 
 ercising a generous influence over him : and 
 prudently, too, — for when the boy, aware 
 that Count Roccabella had been disposed to 
 regard us with suspicion, had talked of de- 
 clining to enter on his living — " What avail 
 would that be now ? " was Martha's wise 
 answer : " but, Louis, we must do the best 
 we can to lay by for her ! We may have a 
 home for her one day, and if we thwart her 
 too much now she will go away, and never 
 let us hear if she falls into any trouble." — 
 Martha it was, further, who contrived for the 
 appeasing of her querulous mother-in-law 
 elect, the prospect of a week of Christmas 
 feastings in Halcyon Row — when, as she said, 
 "they could make all Mrs. Marshall's old 
 friends much more comfortable than on any 
 wedding-day." 
 
 The days rubbed on (to use my wife's 
 phrase) rather as if we were in the midst of 
 a lawsuit than on the eve of two weddings ; 
 such business as there was to be done was 
 got through ; though one important matter
 
 270 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 must be still left till the last moment — the 
 opening of the sealed instructions left by Mr. 
 Westwood — which could not take place till 
 after Eosamond's second marriage. This 
 added another perplexing incident to those 
 of the wedding-day; though by a communi- 
 cation from Mr. Oliphant, ray co-trustee, I 
 was largely relieved from an apprehension 
 which had haunted me. — That Eosamond's 
 wicked sisters-in-law would not profit by 
 her rashness, I had long been persuaded; 
 but it was a further comfort to be assured, 
 that every penny was so simply apportioned, 
 and so strictly tied up, as to preclude the pos- 
 sibility of any jobbing, or personal profit, 
 direct or indirect, on our own parts. I could 
 have carried off the entire four- thousand a-year 
 in triumph from those two Liverpool women, 
 spent it before their faces, with all my very 
 heart of hearts — but I could hardly have 
 met Count Eoccabella, if it had been pos- 
 sible for him to suspect that we were gain- 
 ing by his wife's loss. 
 
 The blackest, bitterest winter weather it 
 was that I recollect ever in Manchester — 
 " weather," as I^elkson said, with a sob to my 
 wife, two days before the event, " uncongenial
 
 LEAVE-TAKINGS. 271 
 
 enough to cast a chill over the most aus- 
 picious royal nuptials — weather, however, 
 not bitter enough to keep birds of prey 
 secure in their own haunts, ma'am. — Don't 
 you think, ma'am," continued she, " it 
 will be better to prepare my lady for parties 
 in the church, who may come there ex- 
 pressly to see her humiliated according to the 
 dictates of their own low minds. — May my 
 married-name be Cross, and n ot commence with 
 a B when I change my condition, — if I did 
 not behold, alighting from a coach to-day, the 
 carrion -crow and the rook, as I used to call 
 them — Chidley, Rick, & Co. — I pointed them 
 out to Mr. Blosse. 'Tis no good errand 
 that brings such over to Manchester, or that 
 makes them assume the bare semblance of 
 harmony for a passing hour. Is there no 
 means, ma'am, think you, of desiring the 
 sexton to administrate against intrusion, if 
 they do show their false faces at the church 
 door on Tuesday morning ? " 
 
 " Tiie best thing is to say nothing," was 
 jny wife's prudent answer. " They may be 
 here by accident : they may not know the 
 right place, or the right time, exactly ; any 
 how, we shall get through somehow, Nelkson."
 
 272 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 I thought, however, that it might be as 
 well secretly to prepare Rosamond for any 
 trial to her nerves that those intolerable 
 women might occasion — did they appear. 
 But I had no opportunity till the next after- 
 noon, when, chancing to find her alone — for 
 she was now our guest in Halcyon Row — I 
 attempted to lead her gently towards the 
 subject. It was useless. She had letters 
 from London on her knee — the last she was 
 to receive ere the beloved of her heart and 
 fancy arrived — and she was too much ab- 
 sorbed and excited by their contents to have 
 a second's attention for any thing less dear. 
 
 "Late to night, Salvatore will be," said 
 she, " too late, he says, to come here ; some 
 business of the highest importance has de- 
 tained him in town. Had I known it earlier, I 
 would have arranged to go up ! I do so hate 
 giving the very least trouble to any one ! " 
 
 " come, child ! " said I, forcing a gaiety 
 I did not feel — "when one is going to be 
 married, one may make up one's mind to 
 give trouble, I do hope and trust — or when, 
 if not then ? — What friend is the Count going 
 to bring down with him ? — the Signor 
 Montegrone, 1 have heard you speak of ? "
 
 LEAVE-TAKINGS. 273 
 
 " What, that poor invalid ? He would die 
 of a journey in such horrible English weather. 
 I declare, I have never looked — I was so 
 much interested in other things. O ! a M. 
 Claudian — Claudian Valpiquet, is the name. 
 French, 1 fancy — I have never heard Salva- 
 tore mention him — to be sure, he never 
 talked to me about any thing but Italians. 
 I thought it would have been one of his 
 countrymen — but just now, no doubt, they 
 are better engaged ... I can't see, that 
 among my own friends, as I am here — there 
 was any need to trouble any one." 
 
 " Upon my word, to hear you talk, 
 Eosamond, there might be no need for you 
 to be married at all ! Do, darling, be a 
 little less wild !....! wanted to tell 
 you" 
 
 " But I don't want to hear you, cousin I 
 . . . Come now, I am going away — who 
 knows if I may ever come back again ! . . . 
 and I \von't hear a single hard word about 
 any body, or any thing, and I won't be 
 scolded ! .... It is enough to have the trial 
 of that poor maid of mine, with her doleful 
 face, just as if she was not going to make 
 the match on which she had set her heart, 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 — and winking andhinting as she does ! Now, 
 don't say a single word, or I will lock you 
 all out, every one of you, and go to church 
 by myself! Now, dear cousin Paul, let me 
 finish my letter in peace ! You know, wilful 
 I was, and wilful I will be ! — now go ; there's 
 a dear good soul." 
 
 I was scarcely out of the room when I 
 heard her singing aloud and wildly (have I 
 ever said that Rosamond had a magnificent 
 natural voice ?) some Italian carol or chaunt, 
 from no opera that either I or any of our 
 children could remember. 
 
 Who need be told the sort of message, or 
 token, or understanding which had arrived at 
 our guest ?— When we met at the supper table, 
 she was triumphing, I could see, in some 
 secret. We all thought that she had never 
 been seen to look so beautiful. She seemed 
 to have time for every one, and thought for 
 every thing, and an ear every where — 
 thanked us again and again, (more than 
 thrice enough, poor thing !) for all the pains 
 we had bestowed on her — and did all that 
 woman's sophistry could do, to prove that 
 this match was not passionate, but prudent 
 also. "The best thing for me that could
 
 LEATE-TAKINGS. 275 
 
 have happened — which has saved me from 
 becoming an idle fine lady. That capital 
 creature, who is leaving rae, was spoiling me 
 to such a degree that in six months more I 
 should have thought it a hardship to open 
 my eyes for myself. What a treat it will be 
 to try to live on as little as possible ! You 
 laugh, cousin, but I never did enjoy having 
 my own way — and being treated like a doll, 
 good only to dress in fine clothes. And you 
 shall all come to see us in Italy; there is 
 room for fifty guests at a time in the palace 
 on the lake, and it will be before two years 
 
 are out You will see ! you will see* I 
 
 — We have had such a fight, Salvatore and 
 I," — she continued, — " about some of the 
 family trinkets, — which he insisted on my 
 having. I told him that a beggar who 
 married an exile had no business with sap- 
 phires ; and that they should go the way of 
 all my first jewellery — Yes ! I am not going 
 to be spoiled ! " 
 
 " But, Rosamond," said Martha, — "I 
 thought you enjoyed not having your own 
 way ! — Supposing the Count choose to spoil 
 you ! — It seems to me the next thing to 
 choosing to be a nun, in order that you may
 
 276 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 be kept in order — ^your fancy of giving up 
 your own way" . . . 
 
 " Nonsense ! you mite ! " was the gay 
 answer. *' You want to be spoiled, that is 
 obvious — and I hope Louis will do it to your 
 heart's content — as a clergyman should ! " 
 
 " You shall see when you come to Gray- 
 house — for come to Grayhouse you will — it 
 is your own house, Rosamond, you know— 
 and there is your own room already there 
 before we go to Como — I have a presenti- 
 ment — Suppose" 
 
 " Let me hear no supposes, Martha . . . 
 They bring bad luck — Talking of troubles 
 makes them come ! We will have no trouble ! 
 — I am determined — All shall go well ! " 
 
 " Another giving-up of your own w^ay ! " 
 replied my little daughter, — w^hose freedom 
 in intercourse had been brightened as well 
 as emboldened by her happy prospects. — 
 " Only this — dear cousin Rosamond — there 
 is your room at Grayhouse — and come what 
 may— if it should chance that you want 
 Louis or me — why, dear, we must disappoint 
 you— and you must have your own way ! No- 
 thing but sickness or death shall prevent us 
 being with you— if need be."
 
 LEA.VE-TAKINGS. 277 
 
 There was an earnestness in tliis which 
 took the laugh out of all of us : — as though 
 the pledge of helpfulness, given with a full 
 heart, implied precision that help would be 
 needed. After such a speech we could not 
 fall back on trifles or light topics any more 
 — and it seemed a signal for our breaking 
 up. How many pairs of wakeful eyes were 
 there under my roof that night ?
 
 278 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 "TUENED OFF." 
 
 Honest people will sleep at last, whatever 
 the cares of the past day may have been — 
 whatever the trouble of the coming day is 
 like to be. In nothing is night more blessed 
 than as a marker of periods; a shadow — nay, 
 a substance rather — by whose aid we notch 
 off another fragment from the embroiled 
 weeks which stand betwixt us and deliver- 
 ance. Even when sleep does not come, the 
 darkness, the retreat — let them be ever so 
 crowded with phantasms, longings, re- 
 proaches, with the burning sense of injus- 
 tice — the yearning after those who will return 
 to save us no more, — in some measure draw a 
 curtain round us, and indulge us with change, 
 if not with relief. There is no more effort to 
 be made — no more appearance to be kept 
 up — no more work to be done : — life must
 
 " TURNED OFF." 279 
 
 pause : — and there are those who, with me, 
 will acknowledge the value and the privilege 
 of enforced pause. — And when sleep is won, 
 even the man whose life is to end on the 
 morrow, has cause to say, "Blessed be night." 
 
 When my wife and myself were alone, we 
 could not help exchanging a few words 
 of deep mutual thankfulness to God, who 
 had given us so upright and so kindly a little 
 daughter as ours ; and who had cast her lot 
 (as it seemed) in such pleasant waters. 
 Our Martha had been touched, stilled, and 
 deepened, by Rosamond's generosity, as one 
 of a poor nature never could have been ; — but 
 she had also felt the fervour of the pulse of 
 her benefactress — had touched the passion 
 of her hope — had foreseen the shadowy na- 
 ture of her dream, to a degree which was 
 marvellous in one so young. What our 
 daughter felt, and touched, and foresaw, she 
 could not have put into words ; but it was 
 something to go to rest on the eve of the 
 first wedding-day of a child of ours — and to 
 be so sure that all was so well with her — 
 not well merely as to money, but as to 
 heart and brain, and prospect of usefulness. 
 
 Well, if these sort of thoughts (fond
 
 ^80 roccabelLa. 
 
 dreams! unmarried folks may say) — were 
 our lullabies— our reveille on the wedding- 
 morning was, after its kind, yet more fanci- 
 ful. I will not say that we slept late ; but 
 we did not wake so soon as younger people, 
 with less untired nerves, must have done, on 
 the eve of so many events. My impression 
 on waking was, that I was in a conservatory 
 among orange-flowers, roses, and stephanotis, 
 and hyacinths. — Our house is small — kept 
 very warm — and I am singularly susceptible 
 to scents. There was — no doubt could 
 exist on the matter — there was a positive 
 garden of hot-house treasures somewhere 
 about us. — " The Count's sending," was my 
 wife's comment, who did not know how little 
 Italians prize flower scents. 
 
 Whoever had sent it, before we could 
 show ourselves our children were open- 
 mouthed about the great tin box which had 
 arrived, directed to Miss Martha — a box the 
 like whereof had never before been seen in 
 Halcyon Row^ Bouquets for every one- — 
 for both brides — for my wife— for Martha's 
 three sisters — even for good Kelkson, who 
 got up in a state of hysterical crying ecstasy 
 ^— and presented herself, my wife says, with
 
 " TURNED OFF." 281 
 
 the brooch at the back of her collar — and a 
 heap of miscellaneous flowers of magnificent 
 beauty for the breakfast table. 
 
 " Tis all very well," said Rosamond's poor 
 maid to me — who could not pass me without 
 a gush of tears, and a little private confer- 
 ence. ''But I was with the young ladies 
 when the lid was lifted up. That's no Ita- 
 lian's bringing or buying (for one must pay 
 for flowers with ready money) — and on the 
 outside of the box was a ' Hess' and in the 
 interior a ^ Shepherd^' scratched out. O, sir! 
 had it pleased Fate to direct my lady's afi*ec- 
 tions that way — should I feel the load on my 
 mind that I do now on leaving her? — I 
 should not — if I was to be put in the pillory, 
 like John Guy, for saying the reverse." 
 
 As there could be a doubt from whom the 
 flowers came, my wife insisted that no men- 
 tion of the tell-tale inscription should be 
 made to Rosamond — being a little disturbed 
 in her mind, as she owned, by what worked 
 so like an act of perseverance. She had 
 dreamed in the night of scenes in the church, 
 of Rosamond carried out pale, and covered 
 with blood — and was more nervous and more 
 disposed to be unreasonable than is her habit.
 
 282 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 "Supposing," so ran her active invention, 
 "that Mr. Shepherd should be set on by 
 those horrible Liverpool women to do some 
 mischief, and impede the marriage 1 — Nelkson 
 believes he is in Manchester." 
 
 " Nelkson believes every body is in Man- 
 chester," was my reply — a snappish one, I 
 confess. " Surely, have we not enough to 
 do before twelve o'clock, without conjuring 
 up disasters and dreams ? If the worst comes 
 to the worst, Mrs. Marshall will have a 
 hysteric in church. She all but said the 
 other night that she could hardly think it 
 was a proper hearty wedding where nobody 
 fainted ; but if you trouble your mind with 
 iliatj I shall think very meanly of your un- 
 derstanding—Well . . . what now ? — Am I 
 never to get shaved to-day ?" 
 
 It was a voice at the door, with a letter 
 from London — marked " private and imme- 
 diate." 
 
 " Some memorandum from Mr. Bessell," 
 I dare say, said I — "just look, dear, from 
 whom it is while I finish." 
 
 " Not from Mr. Bessell, at all events — and 
 it is such curious writing ! I can't make it 
 out — a foreigner's apparently." I left my
 
 « TUENED OFF." 283 
 
 chin unfinished, and snatched the letter. 
 Mrs. Bell was right— it was from no Eng- 
 lishman. 
 
 The reader would not care for a copy of the 
 contents — written in a jargon which it was not 
 easy for any of us to understand — merely 
 an outpouring of the most filthy and viru- 
 lent abuse against Count Roccabella, who 
 was accused by the writer of every sort of 
 wicked deeds and base purpose. He was 
 a traitor, it said — he was a man who had 
 stolen money, who would brutally treat 
 women — who had murdered one — " Ash him 
 whether the body of Marietta has been yet found 
 at Barlassina; but ivarn him that she is not 
 forgotten by her friends, as he icill one day find 
 — Ask him what he has ijaid to the Princess 
 Morgenstern {the successor of Marietta) for her 
 silence and connivance ; and to help her to buy 
 a new lover handsomer than he. Show this to 
 the rich and generous Englishivoman^ ivhoni 
 this villain has enticed to marry him, ivith the 
 view of securing her vast wealth ! Tell her to 
 turn back, if even she is at the altars foot — be- 
 fore it is too late! — and remind her that she who 
 weds a marked man, and an assassin, is thereby 
 marked, too, and may expect to share the retri-
 
 284 KOCCABELLA. 
 
 hution which will at no distant period overtake 
 himr 
 
 This choice production, from which I have 
 omitted its more offensive portions, was 
 signed ^' Well-known." Beneath its signature 
 was the dusky reddish print of a thumb, 
 which had been dipped, I believe, in blood. 
 
 "The merest, most outrageous malignity 
 in the world! The miserable animal does 
 not know that the Count is marrying a poor 
 woman; and he wishes to make mischief." 
 But I laid by the letter, because the mystery 
 of it would, we thought, be as safe in my 
 strong box as among dust and ashes. I 
 trusted with all my heart that Rosamond 
 had not been insulted by a similar diabolical 
 production; and more than once in the 
 course of the morning, busied as we all were 
 with graver calls, caught myself saying, as I 
 looked at Count Roccabella, " That man has 
 never treated women brutally; but it is as 
 well that I know how falsely he is accused 
 of making a match for money, or I might 
 have been uneasy at the rest of the hideous 
 charges." 
 
 There was much to do, for Rosamond had 
 to be married twice. My wife had said
 
 " TURNED OFF." 285 
 
 " Humph ! " at the mention of the Romish 
 ceremony, remembering that one of the 
 Italian patriot's fixed ideas was to aboHsh 
 Papal superstition. But the good woman 
 had to become acquainted with human in- 
 consistency; and afterwards, I know, bela- 
 boured Mrs. Rick with it as a case of con- 
 science, only to be disparaged by persons 
 that fancied no people had any right to be 
 attached to any form of worship save one. 
 She had backed out of going to St. Yeronica^s, 
 however, with the bridal party; and for 
 bridesmaid there, Rosamond must needs put 
 up with our eldest daughter — a good crea- 
 ture, but without a spark of imagination, 
 who, being very deaf, my wife said, could 
 not be tampered with. We three went 
 together — the Count and his friend were to 
 meet us at the chapel. " It seems such an 
 age since I met Salvatore, cousin," said Rosa- 
 mond, " though it is only three weeks; " and 
 I saw that as the moment drew near she 
 became more nervous than I thought possible, 
 and kept repeating to herself, " To think of 
 my being married in a Roman Catholic 
 chapel! Is it a bad omen, do you think? 
 Never mind, we shall have a spell to control
 
 286 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 it. Yes, yes ; I see him at the door, looking 
 so tired, poor fellow; and no wonder, with 
 
 this horrid Lancashire weather 
 
 cousin, cousin ! whatever happens, do not let 
 me make a fool of myself ! How good it is 
 of you to leave your own child to take care 
 of me!" 
 
 Natural as would have been any confusion, 
 I was struck not altogether pleasantly by the 
 sudden queenly calmness of manner for which 
 Rosamond exchanged her flurry of spirits so 
 soon as the bridegroom presented himself. 
 
 As to the Count, my impression was that 
 we should have an opera-scene acted by him 
 under St. Veronica's porch ere we had leave 
 to enter out of the cold. He did kiss both 
 our hands. Had he flung himself at her feet 
 in the mud, I should not have been amazed. 
 He covered her with all manner of gracious 
 and caressing epithets — he was about to 
 lead her in with a dancing step, when his 
 " best man " said, " Pray, present me to the 
 lady." 
 
 " yes ! Rosamond, my own, this is Yal- 
 piquet— Valpiquet, Mr. Bell ! " 
 
 I should be puzzled to explain why I was 
 disagreeably impressed with Count Eocca-
 
 " TURNED OFF." 287 
 
 bella's friend ; but I have rarely experienced 
 so much discomfort from the presence of any 
 person as I did from that of M. Valpiquet. 
 I had always fancied that patriotism must 
 mean something generous, noble, and impul- 
 sive, if a little wrongheaded — and it did not 
 occur to me till afterwards, that he had given 
 me the impression of a spy — but so it was. 
 He was so much too well-mannered without 
 being highly bred — not servile precisely in 
 his behaviour to the bridegroom — but not 
 attending to him as English friend does to 
 friend — solicitously, but without show. And 
 was it fancy, that he appeared particularly 
 to object being looked at by Rosamond — 
 that he ducked and dived, and evaded her 
 eye — as if there was in it a spark of Ithu- 
 riel's detecting power? One could only have 
 imagined him to be a foreigner, because he 
 spoke English more correctly than any 
 native. He had not come down to Man- 
 chester, it seemed, expressly for the wedding 
 — since he mentioned that he was en route 
 
 for Marbleton, near , where himself 
 
 and Mr. Shepherd were that day ex- 
 
 .pected to dinner. The last name made 
 
 Rosamond start; but as it was spoken we
 
 288 EOCCABELLA. 
 
 were within the chapel — and there was no 
 time to pursue it further. 
 
 The rite was soon over ; but while it was 
 passing, I felt as if a first barrier was put up 
 betwixt the bride and her own people, and 
 her own country. Something of the same 
 notion had crossed her own mind ; for it had 
 been her own express stipulation that no 
 one — not even the faithful Nelkson, who 
 would have followed her with nosegay and 
 pocket-handkerchief, on Mr. Blosse's arm, 
 into a synagogue, or a mosque, or a Quaker's 
 meeting-house — should attend her to chapel. 
 
 " I will take the veil in a corner," she said 
 laughingly — "since, of course, I am going to 
 become Eoman Catholic! And I will be 
 made a show of during the heretic ceremony." 
 
 But it was an ill-considered speech of M. 
 Valpiquet — who probably did not even pre- 
 tend to any religion — as we were getting 
 into the carriages to make our way to All 
 Saints', where Martha's wedding was also 
 to be solemnized — to congratulate the Coun- 
 tess Roccabella on being " half-married " — 
 " And here, madam," continued he, " 1 had 
 almost better take my leave of you — since 
 my travelling companion, Mr. Shepherd, bar-
 
 " TURNED OFF." 289 
 
 gained to wait only as late as half-past twelve 
 — beinfij, like mvself, ens-a.f^ed to dine at 
 Marbleton.'' 
 
 " 0, that good Shepherd will not stir from 
 Manchester, be sure," said Roccabella, '' till 
 he has seen Rosamond married, and out of 
 his reach for ever ! He is what you French, 
 Valpiquet, would d'dSS.p'eux chevalier V 
 
 " Mr. Shepherd again!" said Rosamond, 
 checking herself suddenly in the expression 
 of her irritation ; then she turned to her 
 bouquet. "Where was it, Salvatore, that 
 you managed to find tliese magnificent sum- 
 mer flowers for me?" . . . The Count 
 and Valpiquet exchanged looks, and the 
 finger of the former covered his lip, with a 
 furtive glance at me. He need not have 
 fancied that I was going to be indiscreet. 
 Had I been so, I might have expressed my 
 surprise at his cordial acquiescence in such 
 an act of chivalry, on the part of a defeated 
 rival. But instead, I made an observation 
 on Mr. Oxley's new patent for heating green- 
 houses, which occupied the distance betwixt 
 St. Veronica's Chapel and All Saints' Church 
 not so badly — considering that I hardly 
 knew what I was saying. 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 Certainly, to have to go through three 
 inarriage ceremonies in one morning, was 
 enough to make even a practised man of no 
 feehng, nervous — and what with Liverpool 
 sisters-in-law, and terrible anonymous letters 
 — and Rosamond's lovers, old and new — I 
 had a sort of hot and cold feeling — a creep- 
 ing of presentiment that we should not get 
 out of All Saints' without a scene. — But 1 
 was little prepared for what we did find 
 there ! 
 
 That old, selfish Mrs. Marshall (I must 
 call her so) had seemingly acquiesced in all 
 that her son and ourselves and Martha had 
 agreed on ; but she was like other women, 
 after all — had first made her fight, rendering 
 us all uncomfortable ; — had then said " yes," 
 in a manner which rendered us more uncom- 
 fortable still ; — and after all had absolutely 
 taken her o^wn way. It was she, we are 
 convinced, who had absolutely encouraged 
 her gossips to leave their warm houses, on 
 that wretched December morning, merely 
 to see Martha married, and to stare at 
 the Countess Roccabella ; though they all 
 viciously regarded her as a spoil-sport, whose 
 intrusion made havoc of every thing jovial
 
 <^ TURNED OFF.*' 291 
 
 and neighbourly that ought to have gone 
 on. — She had instituted hot elder wine and 
 toast at her own house, immediately after our 
 breakfast, — where Louis and Martha were 
 to repair, ^* since Mr. Bell was so much 
 taken up with his grand relation ; " and at all 
 events, had come out in battle rather than 
 bridal array, she looked so gloomy — Mrs. 
 Brudge, who had friends staying with her, 
 and thought proper to bring them likewise, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Spindleton — the former with 
 his ear-trumpet, .and the three Misses Le 
 Grand in their shivering summer bonnets 
 of yellow silk stuck over with corn-flowers : 
 and many many others whom it is needless to 
 mention were there. Mrs. Bell was wdth her 
 daughter; and if a pinched-up mouth could 
 slay, herswouldhaveslainthe "other co-parent 
 on the occasion " (to employ the phrase used 
 by Nelkson in describing Mrs. Marshall to 
 Mr. Blosse— her humble servant). All the 
 women began mopping and mowing and 
 whispering among themselves when Eosa- 
 mond came in. 
 
 But "all the women," included more than 
 Mrs. Marshall's playfellows. — No sooner 
 had we crossed the threshold than I saw^, at
 
 292 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 a glance, Eosamond's intolerable sisters-in- 
 law. Both were mightily excited, and nod- 
 ded and gossiped and whispered so loud, 
 that an imperative " Hush I " from a stranger 
 was required to remind them (saintly Mrs. 
 Eick being one) that they were within the 
 walls of a place of worship. — T do not think 
 that Eosamond saw them, nor indeed would 
 it have mattered if she had. 
 
 Every one has known some occasion of 
 the kind, when the jar of comparatively 
 small accidents has been so confusing as to 
 leave no time or space for grave emotion. 
 I have seen grief hurried out of its place at 
 a funeral, to come back with a more terrible 
 flood afterwards — I have seen the breathless 
 anxiety attending a struggle for death or 
 life in a court of justice, utterly suspended, — 
 by some worthless accidental interruption. 
 As my wife said afterwards, the two 
 weddings put one another out. — Our good 
 old friend the curate of St. Simon's, who 
 officiated, was any thing but deliberate on 
 the occasion ; and indeed Louis and Martha, 
 Mrs. Bell further asserted, did all but marry 
 themselveSo I was struck, nevertheless, with 
 the seemingly close attention devoted to the
 
 " TURNED OFF.'* 293 
 
 prayerbook by Count Roccabella's groom' s- 
 man, M. Valpiquet ; and also with the 
 shaven cleanliness of that gentleman's cheek 
 and chin. The waving to-and-fro of the 
 Misses Le Grand's yellow bonnets disturbed 
 me a little. I have been told that I did 
 some very absent things, — that I dropped my 
 hat four times; and when Mr. Vavasour asked 
 Count Roccabella, whether he would take 
 Eosamond for his wedded wife, that I answered, 
 " No certainly," and begged pardon aloud 
 the next instant. But these are children's 
 tales. 
 
 Somehow or other it got over ... and 
 my wife, who declares that she never till 
 that day knew what self-command could 
 accomplish, did not faint; — though the con- 
 vulsive hold she laid on my arm at one part 
 of the ceremony (I forget which) left a 
 black mark for weeks, — We all crowded into 
 the small mouldy vestry, Mrs. Marshall's 
 acquaintances among the rest — and there 
 was kissing and congratulation, and eyes 
 sharp as needles fixed on one bride, and the 
 hand of the other wrung off by her 
 mother-in-law's good old friends : until Louis, 
 who is a short man, seemed half-stifled, and,
 
 294 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 cold as the morning was, asked for a glass 
 of water. 
 
 " Madam, '^ said Mr. Oliphant of Liver- 
 pool, my co-trustee, to some one behind us, 
 "you are pushing me very violently — Pray, 
 do not attempt to speak to Madame Rocca- 
 bella at present. This is most ill timed ! " 
 
 " And why is it ill-timed, sir ? I may 
 congratulate my brother's wife on the 
 noble and fascinating successor she has'given 
 to him, I hope — without asking your leave, 
 sir! since we are not in Italy, sir! where in- 
 quisitions are to be found; no, nor in any 
 popish vestry, but in an honest Lancashire 
 church ! Pushing! and why not, I should 
 like to know, when such as you stop the 
 way ? " And the thumping, and lunging, 
 and pressing forward continued very much 
 as if a bale of cotton was attempting to come 
 forward on its own account — by which Miss 
 Adeliza Le Grand was absolutely propelled 
 into the arms of M. Yalpiquet : and emitted 
 a little shriek, which had the good effect of 
 withdrawing attention from Rosamond. 
 
 I whispered the clergyman and the clerk : 
 but their intervention was not heeded. 
 " This is even worse than that vulgar be-
 
 " TURNED OFF." 295 
 
 haviour during service," said a clear 
 gentlemanly voice, which was strange to me. 
 " The Countess shall be annoyed by no such 
 proceedings, and if the foreign gentlemen 
 feel scrupulous, I don't. The person is in 
 a state of intemperance, and must be 
 removed. Madam, if you will not be quiet 
 while the registers are signed, I will take 
 you out on ray own responsibility ! " 
 
 " Sister," whispered a honeyed tone, which 
 I knew better, "■ why will you give way to 
 your feelings ? Dear as is the memory of 
 
 our noble brother " and then, in the 
 
 midst of the jumble and changing of places, 
 I seemed to hear some confused talk about 
 "great power," and "a wicked bay-tree." 
 
 " Upon my word," said the owner of the 
 strange voice to me, "if Mrs. Westwood's 
 connexions behave so abominably as that per- 
 son has done throughout the service, it is 
 enough, and more than enough, to account 
 for any thing unusual on her own part. A 
 moment, good Mrs. Nelkson, if you please. 
 Come, madam, as you will not conduct your- 
 self like a lady you shall not stay here — I 
 shall put you into your carriage," — and that 
 the active speaker did absolutely oblige Mrs.
 
 296 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 Chidley out of the vestry ere further dis- 
 turbance could be madej and we presume 
 got her into some coach or other, — was evi- 
 dent by the sudden peace which seemed to 
 prevail, and from the fact that her violence 
 troubled the proceedings of the day no 
 further. 
 
 " She is a mad, my dear," said Roccabella; 
 *' we laugh at her ! Be sure she don't come 
 back no more. No, and see, here's our brave 
 Shepherd ! — Come, good friend . . . my lady 
 is always obliged to you. Come here — you 
 shall bring us good-luck ; you shall sign — 
 here betwixt Valpiquet and Mr. Bell, and 
 (something that stood for Marshall) and 
 Mr. Bell, my dear — please — I have ask him 
 to breakfast wiz you." 
 
 " Am I wanted ? " replied the voice, and 
 the speaker came forward through the little 
 crowd. '' Sign I certainly — where ? Any 
 where — 0, here ? The person has gone home, 
 and, judging from the state in which she is, 
 will have an illness — I think very probable 
 — and the sleek lady is gone, too ; to take 
 care of her. — Nay, I only ventured to inter- 
 fere because I was nearest to the door. 
 Pray, forget all about it ! Countess, I beg
 
 '• TURNED OFF." 297 
 
 respectfully to wish you health and pros- 
 perity. May God bless you, and make you 
 happy ! " 
 
 Could Rosamond have believed that if 
 she was to cry on her wedding-day — the man 
 to make her cry would have been that Mr. 
 Shepherd ? — It was done though, and he 
 did it; and she cried, and he made as if he 
 did not see it. Turning quickly on me he 
 said, however, in an under tone, " I can't 
 breakfast with you for many reasons," and 
 more loudly — '' I must be excused, because if 
 M. Yalpiquet and I miss the train, we shall 
 not get to Marbleton till two in the morn- 
 ing. Are you ready, M. Yalpiquet ? Come 
 then, pray — every additional person is only 
 in the way." 
 
 And, somehow or other, M. Yalpiquet 
 was extricated out of the confused group of 
 the guests, bidden and unbidden, to the 
 couple of weddings — and the two disappeared 
 without fuss, without delay, without awk- 
 wardness. I never heard a man pronounce 
 so correctly as Mr. Shepherd. 
 
 Well ; — then we were to get back to 
 Halcyon Eow somehow, and (now that he 
 was gone) every thing seemed to fall into
 
 298 KOCCABELLA. 
 
 confusion. How Count Roccabella was 
 stuffed into the coach with poor old Mrs. 
 Marshall, none of us could even tell. But 
 the two made fast friends betwixt the vestry 
 door and the breakfast table — and he up- 
 braided her for not having invited all the 
 world to witness his happiness. I stuck by 
 Rosamond ; in what company my wife was 
 delivered at our own house, she was loth 
 to communicate — but it proved to have 
 been in the society of Mrs. Nelkson and Mr. 
 Blosse. 
 
 At home, however, we were, and, thank 
 God ! with both couples married. And 
 then there was that sitting down to break- 
 fast at which every one is expected to eat, 
 drink, and be merry — though I cannot 
 understand how any one with a particle of 
 heart can have the smallest appetite for 
 either good cheer or gaiety. — Mrs. Marshall, 
 however, proved ready for both — having, 
 as I said, been conquered in the coach by 
 the Italian, whom she persisted in calling 
 Mr. Boccarella. She was not, however, per- 
 mitted to sit as long as would have been 
 agreeable; but was reminded of her hot elder 
 wine and toast, and those whom she had
 
 *• TURNED OFF." 299 
 
 been ill-advised enough to invite to partake 
 of the same — and in no very lively state 
 of satisfaction, she was shipped off with 
 Louis and Martha. My wife and I were to 
 follow them presently, but there was first 
 some business to be done — although never 
 did man seem less disposed or composed for 
 business than the Italian bridegroom. 
 
 ''Now, Mr. Bell, my dear — my wife she 
 lose her money when she marry me, that is 
 fixed, — what consequence any thing further ? 
 What matter who get it ? You some, I hope 
 — It make her nervous," he added in a 
 whisper, " to hear of that horrid old man. 
 We shall have always enough to get on 
 upon somehow, for I defy those Jesuits to 
 poison my own people against me before I 
 am back at home again — and then ! " 
 
 It was necessary to be peremptory, and to 
 insist on going through with our task. 
 Neither Rosamond nor Count Roccabella 
 could be excused a syllable of what might 
 be contained in those sealed instructions. 
 Indeed Mr. Oliphant felt, and said as much, 
 that we had acted rashly, in not having also 
 requested the presence of Count Roccabella's 
 friend, M. Valpiquet; on every account it
 
 300 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 was to be wished that all explanations should 
 be as complete as possible. 
 
 ''Valpiquet, indeed! — On contrary, I glad! 
 I not allow him to know my affairs, I pro- 
 mise you ! He is better where he is, riding 
 away with that good Shepherd. — Rosamond, 
 my angel, you have never asked where I 
 am going to take you, for the days we are 
 stop in London — Where you think ? not to 
 be with Madame Montegrone, I do hope ; 
 and hotel so noisy, and cost so much. Park 
 street better — we go Park street, the very 
 next door. That good Shepherd would 
 have it ! He lend us his house, and only 
 made me promise I would not tell you, 
 till all was settled. You sat by his fire 
 before this, he said, and he laughed as he 
 said it. 
 
 " Salvatore 1 " cried Rosamond, in a 
 
 quick tone, ^' I wish you had not It 
 
 is." . . . 
 
 "Truly handsome conduct on the part of 
 Mr. Shepherd," cut in my wife — " the be- 
 haviour of a thorough English gentleman ;" 
 but I could tell by her tone that something 
 annoyed her too in the transaction : — if not 
 the offer, evidently it might then be the
 
 " TURNED OFF." 301 
 
 acceptance of it! — But Rosamond was not 
 prepared to find any thing wrong which 
 Salvatore did; and thus only protested feebly, 
 where, under other circumstances, she would 
 have contested the matter or refused point 
 blank. 
 
 " You will be so much quieter there," said 
 he, " so much better in every respect. I tell 
 you, little woman, you have nothing with the 
 matter ! You were not invited — it is I ; and 
 now you belong to me, you and all you 
 have in the world — and so you must go 
 where I go. That good Shepherd is as 
 delicate as never was . . . And here is Mr. 
 Elephant with large paper sealed. If we 
 must listen, we must — Mr. Bell, my dear, 
 ask him to read quickness." And down 
 sate the handsome Italian, keeping Rosa- 
 mond's hand fast, ^vith the impatient air 
 of a child at a sermon. Yet every faculty 
 was on the alert ; for though, while in town, 
 Rosamond's bridegroom, we subsequently 
 learned, had paid a visit to Mr. Bessell, and 
 acquainted himself with the main fact of 
 Mr. Westwood's will — and the precise figure 
 to which the poor remains of Rosamond's 
 fortune amounted — who knew but there
 
 302 ROCCABELLA. 
 
 might be some turn — some outlet — some 
 condition worth attending to ? 
 
 None such, however, there was . . . nothing 
 on which Italian ingenuity could build the 
 least possible expectation. Mr. Bessell had 
 not come down from London for nothing ! 
 Did his coming, and the midnight conver- 
 sation after, not recur to Rosamond when 
 the seal was broken — that large inelegant 
 desk seal, which she so well knew, and with 
 which the mystical paper had been closed 
 up by careful hands, now mouldering in the 
 tomb? I know that it brought back the 
 dead man to me, as if he had been among 
 us, in that very room — with his heavy sorrow- 
 ful face, and his loaded eyelids, and his slow 
 voice, and his silent, unprofessing care for 
 that wayward, brilliant creature ! Even Mr. 
 Oliphant, of all solicitors the least sentimen- 
 tal, showed a touch of emotion and remem- 
 brance, as he said, " Our poor friend, had 
 always an objection to many words. — There 
 is little here to detain us; for this enclosure," 
 taking out as he spoke another sealed paper, 
 " has reference to other circumstances than 
 those of the day." 
 
 In the fewest words possible, the charities
 
 " TURNED OFF." 303 
 
 were specified whicli were to reap the bene- 
 fit which Rosamond had derived from the 
 money settled on her, in case Rosamond 
 contracted a second marriage ; and the precise 
 sums were so prescribed, as to make it clear 
 that no distributor could, if he willed, derive 
 any per centage from it. No less stringent was 
 a clause excluding, now, henceforth, and for 
 ever, Mrs. Chidley and Mrs. Rick, or any 
 one belonging to them, from the slightest 
 interference, or the most distant prospect of 
 inheriting a penny. " I have acted from no 
 caprice," was simply added, "in doing this — 
 but with a view to the happiness and inde- 
 pendence of my beloved wife. This I wish 
 her to understand, when I am no more." 
 
 " Thank God, it is over ! " said Rosamond 
 after an instant's pause, when Mr. Oliphant 
 had ceased ; " and now, Salvatore, I belong 
 to you, and to you only." 
 
 " And to Italy ! my dearest wife ! " 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 M'COEQUODALE and CO., PRIXTEKS, LONDON — WORKS, NEWTON.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 041675270 
 
 I