CHAPTER XIV.
"His swarthy visage spake distress, But this might be from weariness; His garb with sanguine spots was dyed, But these might be from his courser's side; He drew the token from his vest * * Me, not from mercy did they spare, But this empurpled pledge to bear!"--_Giaour._
The sun was setting on the Apennines, bathing them in purple, as thepostilion bearing the fatal news of the tragedy of Val di Bovino nearedthe outskirts of Foggia.
Close to the road leading to Naples, the last of a row of villas, wasthe residence of the Earl of Wentworth. It was a small one compared tohis villa at Naples; but sufficiently large to excite the attention ofthe traveller. Built on a gentle eminence, surrounded by orange grovesbearing their golden burden, its front aspect faced the Apennines,embracing a fine view of the rich country around, as well as the immense_tavoliere_ of Apulia, the pasturage of numerous herds of cattle duringthe winter.
On the balcony looking down the high road sat the Countess, now morematured in age than when we last saw her. She was still extremelyhandsome, and, in the opinion of many, her ripened beauty exceeded hergirlish charms. She was somewhat more inclined to _embonpoint_ than ofold, but had worn remarkably well, and still possessed the sameluxuriant quantity of hair, more richly brown than ever; the samewinning, soft blue eye; the same clear complexion. Her countenance wassaddened, but affliction had not soured; and when she smiled her smilewas sweet as ever. Time had lightly laid his touch on her; she scarcelooked five-and-twenty, though she was half a dozen years older atleast.
A little distance from the Countess stood Lady Augusta, who was thenpast eleven. She was tall for her age, and built on a large scale; hereyes were her mother's, but her hair was very much fairer; herwell-formed mouth betrayed the firmness of the De Veres. She was tooyoung for us to judge of her character, or even what her appearancewould yet be; but, if ever a mother's prayers and loving example aresure of a reward, doubtless Augusta would grow in beauty of mind andperson all the Countess wished.
"Augusta, love, is there no sign yet of our guests? Look if you can seethe carriage. They should have been here long ago."
"No, mamma dear, I see nothing. We shall hear the wheels first, for theorange-trees hide the turn in the road."
"No sign of Lennox yet?" said the Marquis, entering the verandah. "'Ponmy word they are taking it easily."
"Indeed, I am beginning to feel nervous,--the roads are so unsafe. Iwish they had started earlier," said the Countess.
"Pooh! you are always thinking of the brigands. I tell you Lennox wroteto say he would take guards."
"I know; but that Luigi is such a dreadful man! I quite dread goingdrives. And if he heard of my jewels coming,--he gets news ofeverything. I do hope nothing will happen."
"Never a fear. Young Lennox is a smart fellow. They will come all right.They are armed, and the sbirri with them. Luigi knows too well to riskan attack."
"I hear the clatter of a horse, mamma," said Augusta. "Ah! see, here hecomes. How he rides; and he is stopping at our gate."
"Oh! I hope there is nothing wrong. Do go and see, Arranmore. How myheart beats!"
Lord Arranmore, without waiting to be asked, had left the balcony, andat the porch learned the dreadful tidings from the postilion, who,almost dead with terror, crossing himself and calling every saint to hisaid, by broken sentences told all, producing also the ensanguined scarf.
The Marquis ordered the servants to give him refreshment (but the poorman had little peace till he had told them the whole twenty times over,and each time a little more exaggerated than the last), and thenreturned to break the news to the Countess.
"Your fears are, alas! too true," he said. "Our friends have beenattacked and fearfully murdered!"
"Merciful heavens!" exclaimed the Countess; "is this true?"
"Too true. The wretched postilion, who alone survived, told me all. Pooryoung Lennox attacked them boldly, but was soon overpowered; then poorLennox! Faith! the tale is too shocking for your ears. Enough to say, hewas murdered, and the heads of father and son stuck on poles! The worstpart is, all your jewels are gone too!"
"Oh! Arranmore! do not say so! I would gladly have lost every trinket inthe world to save one life. But, Caroline, poor girl, what has become ofher?" said the Countess, whilst unfeigned tears of sorrow coursed hercheeks.
"Ah! poor girl! she was carried off by the ruffian Adrian Vardarelli.Luigi is a bloodthirsty villain! but Adrian a--I won't say my fears!"
"Oh! my poor Caroline! my heart bleeds for her indeed! But had they notguards? How did it happen?"
"They met a count at their last stage--no real count, but a disguisedbrigand--who got everything out of our poor murdered friend. Alas! helittle knew to whom he spoke. They hired two ruffians to guard theminstead of the sbirri! though heaven knows they would not have helpedthem much! Then they were attacked--their false guards turned on them,and the postilion fled to hide in the woods, and from his hiding placesaw the whole! I cannot repeat the horrors he saw, or the cold-bloodedbutchery! There was a quarrel between the Vardarelli, it seems, for poorCaroline, and Adrian mortally wounded Luigi. In the midst of theconflict some twenty sbirri appeared. Adrian galloped off with hisprize. A fierce hand-to-hand fight took place, which ended in the totalannihilation of the sbirri, and the victorious miscreants carried offtheir booty, and dead and wounded, as well as the dying Luigi. It is acomfort to think that vagabond has got his desert, and the whole countrywill be rid of a nuisance."
"This is a most fearful tragedy. Alas! what a lawless land this is, butperhaps the man may have exaggerated the truth, and they may be onlycaptive, God grant it."
"I fear it is too true; this stained scarf tells its tale. Luigi neverspared men; it was his plan to torture and then stick the heads of hisvictims on poles. Adrian only spares his captives for worse than death;poor Caroline, a sad fate is hers. However, this has now come to a pass,the whole country are up in arms, and they are determined to find outtheir hiding place, a secret that has baffled search as yet. I shalljoin, and so will Wentworth, and we will be avenged on the rascals,"said the Marquis.
"Oh no, do not think of such a thing, dear Lord Arranmore. Wentworthshall never go; if anything happened to him it would kill me; for mysake leave their punishment to the troops. Wentworth shall go and seethe King of Naples. Let us go and seek my husband, he must be told ofthis awful event. Poor Mr. Lennox and his son, and poor Caroline! I feelsick at heart for her. How I shall treasure this sad relic,--and allperhaps on my account! I would I had not asked them to bring my jewels."
The Marquis, accompanied by the Countess and their daughter, thendescended to seek the Earl, who was busy with state papers in his study.The Marquis knocked, no answer came,--he opened the door, the Earl wasnot there; his desk lay open on the table, his quill was dipped in theink, and a half written letter lay on the floor.
"Curious he isn't here, and yet I only left him half an hour ago; hemust have gone out into the garden; see, the windows are open: shall wego and see, Countess?"
"Yes, let us go. Augusta love, put your hat on, and bring me a shawl,the dew is falling heavily."
In a few minutes they all three walked out through the Venetian windows,which opened on a smooth lawn bounded on all sides by orange trees, andexplored the gardens to see if the Earl was there, as it was a favouriteevening resort. After an hour, when it grew dark and chilly, they gaveup the search, and returned. He was not in the house either; theservants were next questioned, but had not seen their lord. LadyWentworth began to get anxious, and sent several servants to variousfriends' houses near, as well as the reading-rooms, and any other placewhere he might have gone to in Foggia. After a long, anxious time theyreturned, but without news.
"I am quite distressed," said the Countess, sinking on a sofa. "I am soanxious. Where can he be? this dreadful night has quite upset me. Whereis my husband?" and she burst into tears.
"Dear Lady Wentworth, you have no cause for any anxiety; remember theEarl i
s continually away at night; he often goes to tea somewhere youmust know; we have not sent to the right house."
"I know it is foolish of me, but I cannot help it, I am so shaken bythis awful night; oh, if anything has happened to him, I shall die.Where is my Wentworth? Why did he not tell me where he was going to?"
Lord Arranmore did all he could to pacify the lady, but it was in vainhe told her to fear nothing, as time sped on, and no sign of her lordstill. Augusta had gone to her room, the Countess and he sat in thedrawing-room, or rather she sat sobbing with grief, whilst he stood atthe window straining his eyes to catch any glimpse of hisbrother-in-law. The moon had already risen round and full, showeringdown a light equal to many a day in the north. Every now and then hewould say a word of comfort, begging her not to weep--"he would sooncome;" but as time still went on, and not a sign of the absent one, hetoo began to feel a misgiving in his heart, and his mind readilyconjured up real, or fancied terrors. The letter unfinished, the windowsopen; he had evidently gone for a walk but had not returned; could hehave heard the fatal report, and with his natural impetuosity at onceridden off to the spot? as he thought of this a sigh unwittingly escapedhim as he fancied the perilous position his friend was in. The quick earof the Countess caught it, and suddenly springing up she ran to him;taking one of his strong hands between her own delicate fingers, shelooked up into his face with a despairing earnestness that went to hisheart, and with tears standing in her large blue eyes, asked him why hesighed.
"Alas, Ellen," he fondly said, "I sighed to see you so unhappy atnothing."
"My dear Arranmore, tell me the truth; do you not now fear? hide nothingif you know it from me. Oh, deceive me not, you too are anxious."
Often when we wish to comfort people we say the worst things we can by asort of heartless chance--contrariety. The Marquis, anxious to alleviateher fears by assigning a cause for her husband's absence, said the veryworst thing he could.
"I think it is not at all unlikely, Ellen, that Wentworth has heard thenews, and gone off with soldiers to the spot."
"Gracious Heavens!" cried the Countess, "I never thought of that; it istoo true, that must be it, and he is now in those dreadful ruffians'power,--he is perhaps, wounded,--he may be--"
But her lips refused to frame the word, all she thought to say was lostin a wild scream, as she sunk on the floor, in a dead swoon. TheMarquis, terrified at what he had thoughtlessly done, rang the bell,while he lifted the insensible lady, and placed her on a sofa. The fitproved a long and dangerous one, and it was not till the doctor had beensent for that Lord Arranmore felt free from alarm. The medical gentlemansaid there was no cause for any apprehension, and in a short time shewould recover. In the excitement occasioned by the Countess's illnessthe absence of the Earl was partially lost sight of, and whilst theMarquis was bending over the patient, he was somewhat surprised by thesudden reappearance of the Earl _in propria persona_, who when hislady's illness was told him, rushed to the drawing-room, and forcing hisway through the surrounding servants, in an agony of fear pressed hiswife's hand, exclaiming:
"I knew it, see what my folly in not telling her has done. I thinkeverything is leagued to rob me of my mind to-night,--mysterious guides,horrid butcheries, robbers' dens, and now my wife dying."
The voice of her husband acted as a restorative when the doctor wasbeginning to think all would fail, and the Countess opened her eyes.When she saw the object of her solicitude she burst into tears, crying--
"God be thanked you are safe, my own Wentworth! where have you been? whydid you leave me?"
"My darling, I could not help it, I was unwillingly lured away, but youshall hear all when you are better; we must get you to bed at once, thehorrors of this evening have been too much for you."
The Countess grew rapidly better, and ere long was calmly sleeping awayher terrors, whilst the Earl drew the Marquis aside and told him thecause of his absence. For more than two hours they were closely closetedtogether, and as they shook hands the Earl said:
"It has been truly the most wonderful day of my life."
"It indeed seems so,--it is the most extraordinary history I ever heardin my life,--it out-Herods all romances and novels. Faith, you were abold fellow to risk your life amongst such ruffians."
"Had I not I should never have known all this; poor John, such anend,--and the other--"
"After all, you would have been happier in blissful ignorance, but youare sure it is not a tissue of lies?"
"Lies, oh, dear no, I have the proofs here," (producing a large packetof papers,) "besides, I saw enough to prove the truth of at least part;but we must not talk any longer to-night; to-morrow we will sift thewhole to the bottom, and see what is to be done for our unfortunatefriends; their remains must be decently interred if we can obtain them.I would we could trace Caroline Lennox, and he who took her away. Weshall have enough to do, first here and then in England, for thither Imust go; we shall have work for the Crown lawyers."
"I' faith I hardly like to go home through that horrid valley; what ifthey cut us up too?"
"No fears, I have a pass for all Italy; no brigand would harm us were heto see this paper."
The Earl produced a small paper, on which were inscribed somehieroglyphical marks, on which the Marquis looked with some interest.
"This is a queer country after all," he said, "but we are got to talkingagain. Good night, I shall be glad to sleep off my thoughts."
"And I too," said the Earl; "but sleep will not chase mine away. Goodnight, I must see how Ellen is."
With these words they parted and sought their different rooms. The Earlfound his wife calmly sleeping, and kissing her white forehead, preparedto follow her example. Whilst the whole house are bathed inforgetfulness we shall trespass on our readers' time a little longer,and account for the Earl's mysterious absence for so many hours. But asit is a long story we must leave it for the few next chapters, and wehope they will be sufficiently interesting to reward the reader'scareful perusal of their strange contents.
The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 2 Page 14