CHAPTER XVIII.
"But one, a lone one, midst the throng Seemed reckless all of dance or song; He was a youth of dusky mien, Whereon the Indian sun had been, Of crested brow, and long black hair, A stranger like the palm-tree there!"--_Hemans._
"Why, where have you two been?" said Lady Florence, who, with hersister, the Marchioness, met the defaulters coming down the wood. "Wehave been looking for you everywhere, and every one is so impatient fordancing."
"I have been showing Ellen the cave and waterfall in Butterfly Dell; thecool cavern was so pleasant, we should have stayed still longer had wenot been interrupted; I was telling her all the legends in our family."
"And nothing else?" said Lady Florence, laughing; "are you sure that wasall? and who interrupted your pleasant converse?"
"See him--there he is," said the Earl, pointing to the Italian, who thenemerged from the woods; "he is a minstrel, Floss, and will play dancemusic for you, and sing; is he not handsome?"
"Oh! yes; quite a young Tasso; does he know English?"
"Not a word."
"Oh! I wish I knew Italian like you, Wentworth: a minstrel! howcharming--you must be my interpreter. Come, Ellen, tell me all Wentworthsaid," continued the fair girl, laughing. "Keep no secrets," and,taking Ellen's hand, the two walked on a few paces in front, leavingthe Earl and his sister together.
"It is all settled," said the former. "Ellen will be future mistress ofDun Eden Towers; do you not think I have made a good choice?"
"Oh! I am so delighted you have at last made her happy, and I am sureshe will make you so. I am so glad. Ellen, darling," said the lady,hastening forward. "Ellen, I congratulate you--let me be the first to doso dearest," and, so saying, she kissed her fondly.
"On what do you congratulate her?" said Lady Florence; "you do notmean--?"
"I do," said her sister; "and are you not glad Ellen will be our ownsister, Florence? I am as happy--"
"And I too," said Lady Florence; "let me wish you every joy, Ellen."
"You are an excellent keeper of secrets," said the Earl, coming up;"that is the way you keep your promises of silence, Edith."
"I confess my fault; it was done in the fulness of my joy," said theMarchioness; "however, there is no harm done; Florence will keep itquiet, will you not dear?"
"I would not trust Florence's tongue a moment," said her brother.
"I am sure I shall not come to you for a character," retorted thebeauty, pouting her pretty lips; "but to show you I can keep a secret, Iwill not tell anyone, though you deserve nothing less than that I shouldpublish it at the market cross."
By this time the party had once more emerged from the woods, and againsaw the green meadow and the old Peel. The sun was nearing its westernbourne, and a pleasant breeze had sprung up and cooled the air; thepark, as every enclosure is called in Scotland, presented a gayappearance from the light dresses of the ladies. Nearly the whole partywere gathered round the great mossy stone, evidently only waiting forthe Earl to open the dance on the green. Various opinions were hazarded,and numerous queries put as to what delayed his coming.
"After all," said young Scroop, "he is not the only defaulter, neitherof his sisters are here, nor is the Captain, nor is Captain L'Estrange,or Miss Ravensworth; no doubt they have taken a longer ramble than theyintended."
"The Captain and L'Estrange seem wonderfully _lies_ of late," said theMarquis; "the Captain has quite forsaken me."
"There is nothing surprising in it," observed Sir Richard; "they arebrother officers in the same regiment, have travelled and foughttogether, and naturally like each other's society."
"What shall we do for a musician?" remarked a fair lady; "it was a greatoversight, surely. How shall we dance without music?"
"We must get some lady to hum the tunes, I suppose," said Sir Richard.
"I am sure you will not find one to do so; we have not strong enoughvoices. I think you should volunteer."
"I am much obliged, I shall do nothing of the kind."
"Mayhap," said Jack Wilton, the master of horse, as he was facetiouslycalled, "this horn will do, gin there be no better. I can wind a tune ortwo, I warrant."
"There is the Earl himself, we will ask him," said Sir Richard, going tomeet him. "We are much flattered, my Lord, I am sure by your greatattention to your guests."
"Not more than I am by their waiting so patiently. I thought you wouldhave all been dancing by this time."
"We should have done so, perhaps, had we had wherewith to play dancemusic--that is a grand oversight."
"It was--but I have remedied it," said the Earl. "See my wisdom! whilstyou were abusing me for leaving you by yourselves an hour or so, I wasbusy rectifying my error. Let me introduce you to my Orpheus, astrolling musician found wandering in the woods, and drawing streamsafter him by his melodies. Come here, my boy," he said, changing toItalian; "he is a foreigner, and has seen better times, he says; but hewill play for the dancers."
The Italian bowed timidly to the ladies and gentlemen, who flocked roundhim, and answered the questions put by those familiar with his tongue,in a meek voice, as if he feared to offend.
"Gently, do not frighten him," said the Earl; "he is unaccustomed tosuch scrutiny; see, there is a tear in his eye. Do not be frightened, myboy, they will not harm you; come, what will you have before you play?Sit down, my lad, sit down on this mossy stone. Andrew, bring somethingfor him--some cake and a glass of wine."
"Grazzia tanta; but I am not hungry. If the ladies wish, I will play."
"Presently; but you will at least take some wine?"
"No, I thank you, signore; I do not drink wine--wine is for the happy;in Italia I drank wine, I cannot now."
"Hallo, whom have we here? Where the devil did you pick this rascallionItalian up?"
"Oh! John, how can you frighten him so?" said Lady Florence; "he is apoor foreigner, and he is to play for us."
"A poor foreigner! some d----d impostor! and the sooner you send himback to his accursed country the better. I know something of Italians;by the Lord, I was near attempted to be stilettoed by such anothervillain for nothing. I know I pitched that miscreant into the Arno: hefound to his cost the difference of an English soldier and one of hiscowardly race. And if you took my advice, Wentworth, you would give thischap a ducking too, and let him begone. I'll stake anything he is aftermischief; I don't like his looks, by G--!"
"Nonsense, Captain, he is alone and a stranger here; he is too gentlelooking, I am sure, for anything so bad. Look at him, how frightened helooks at your glance," said Lady Arranmore.
"I'd make him look a bit more so, had I my will; but never mind, let himplay. Gad's name, what a come down from the old Romans--the haughtyconquerors to a rascally musician!"
The look of the two was striking--the bold, martial mien of the Captain,who stood twirling a cane, and staring as if he could annihilate thepoor foreigner by his very glance; the half suppliant, half fearful gazeof the other, who stood with folded arms, his lyre on the ground, andhis dark eye suffused with tears.
"Let him play! let him play! take him home to the Towers; make him yourpage. I warrant he will be a sharp one, a trusty messenger to lady'sbower, and will not flinch at stabbing with bloodthirsty dagger."
"You wrong him, I am sure," said the Earl; "he is descended from a goodfamily he told me; his parents have fallen victims to the wretchedgovernment of his country, and he seeks the pittance his own land denieshim, on a foreign strand. What part of Italy come you from, my boy?"
"From Napoli, Milord Inglese."
"Know the Villa Reale?"
"Si, signore, on the summit of the olive grove--it looks to Vesuvius."
"Right; there is truth on his face--he tells me facts I am sure."
"Do you believe him?" said the Captain, walking away.
"Now we are all prepared," said the Earl; "do you know the newdance--the waltz?"
"Si, signore."
Seating himself on the mossy stone, he commenced tun
ing his instrument,and first played a wild Italian air, in which fire and melancholy werestrangely mingled. The applause of the company seemed to reinspirit him,and, dashing away a tear from his eye, he struck up the waltz measure.
The Earl, taking Ellen's hand, stepped forth and led the dance; then,each selecting his partner, the rest followed--all save two, the Captainand L'Estrange, who stood beneath the darkening shadow of the fir-trees,and looked on; the former with a scornful smile, as if he despised allwho joined in the dance; the latter with a sad expression ofcountenance, as if he would too willingly have mingled in the happythrong, could he have danced with the lady of his love.
"I'll bet my best hunter against your riding whip," said the Captain,"that the deed is done."
"What deed is done?"
"Fool! what could it be but one? to be plain, I'll stake my existence mybrother has proposed for Ellen's hand--and what is more, I will stake mylife she has accepted him," he observed, as the two lovers waltzed past.
"What should make you suppose so?" said the other, turning very pale.
"Her looks, idiot, her looks; I can read faces well! I was a fool notto see through the Earl's subtilty before. This picnic forsooth! a mereexcuse for getting her away to do so--by Heaven! a cunning dodge--but Iam a sleuth-hound that can track him out!"
"Good Heavens, and what shall we do?"
"What, indeed, would you do without me?" answered the Captain; "fearnot--I am not empty of resources yet--we must change the plot a bit. Imust speak to yonder Italian. But first I will make myself sure; I saidI could read faces; see you my sister Florence? I see by her face shehas a secret, and I will ferret it out by G--; were it Edith I hadharder work!"
Just then Lady Florence, with Johnny for her partner, danced past them;she looked lovely as she whirled by, her fair hair floating in thebreeze--her face flushed with the exertion--and her blue eyes sparklingwith exuberance of joy.
"Promise you won't tell," said the fair girl to Johnny, "but Ellen is tobe mistress of all these grounds. What do you think, Johnny, of having asister a countess? But here comes John, you must find another partner; Ipromised to dance with him. Mind you don't tell any one, Johnny, mindyour promise!"
Johnny went off and engaged Miss Lennox for the next dance.
"Promise not to tell Louisa," said he, "but my sister Ellen is to be acountess!"
"Nonsense, Johnny, how will she be one?"
"There is no nonsense about it; Lord Wentworth has proposed, and mysister has accepted him--that's how she will be a countess!"
"How do you know though?"
"Lady Florence told me!"
"Then it must be true."
"You won't tell though?"
"Oh dear no, trust me!"
After her dance Louisa, so called after one of the ladies Lennox, madeher father her confidant, under the same promise of secrecy.
"I always imagined there was something between them," said her father;"I must tell the Duke our cousin."
"Oh! papa, you promised."
"Nonsense, love--it is safe with the Duke, as it is with me!"
In this way the news was quickly spread, and by-and-by every one knew itunder promise of secrecy.
"Well, John, are you come to claim me for this dance?" said LadyFlorence to her brother.
"To the devil with dancing, but, Florence, don't be angry, love," hesaid, in a milder tone, fearing he should frighten her into silence,"but, Florence, have you heard the news?"
"What news, John, about Wentworth's proposal?"
"Yes," said the Captain, smiling at her indiscretion.
"How did you know it--has Edith or Johnny told you?"
"No one but your simple self, Floss,--you are a capital secret keeper; Ishall get you appointed to be secretary to the King."
"Oh, dear! what have I done? you won't tell--you will get me into such ascrape!"
"No fears, Florence," said the Captain, walking off.
"Then you won't dance, John?"
"Not I; d--n dancing."
When he rejoined L'Estrange, he said, "Just as I thought. Florence letthe cat out of the bag famously; he has proposed, and been accepted too;confound it--this has come unexpectedly soon!"
"Oh! my God! this is agony," said the rejected lover, wringing his handstogether.
"Cheer up, old fellow, many a slip between cup and lip. She thinks sheis jolly safe--we shall see!"
"What, in Heaven's name, do you mean?"
"Ask me not, you will know by-and-by; I must speak a word in yonderforeigner's ear."
So saying he went off, leaving L'Estrange to brood alone over his woes.Dancing was kept up with much spirit till the west began to lose thecrimson splendour of sunset;--the evening star, harbinger of manyanother twinkling fire, shone brighter and brighter as shadow fell o'erhill and dale, and now and then a bat flitted by and twittered over thegay scene, as if surprised at its unwonted gaiety. The dancers thenbegan to flag; one by one they dropped off; at last only Florence and afew other devoted adorers of Terpsichore tripped it on the lightfantastic toe. The musician, too, grew weary--ceased, and all beganbusily to prepare for a homeward drive, wrapping themselves up inplaids, for the air became more than cool. The sated pairs, warmed bythe dance, felt the night air, for the dews were falling fast, the morechill. Alone, as if he had no part nor lot in the preparations forhome,--as if he had no bower toward which to turn his weary feet,--nofireside to welcome him,--no pillow to rest his tired head on--sat theItalian. The dance was over now; he had seemed amused--pleased--almosthappy while it lasted--as he saw the happy pairs glide past to hismelody. But it was over now--his spirits sank low, and returning woeseemed to him all the heavier after the light break. The feelings of theconvict, as he starts perchance from some delightful dream on the mornof his execution were his--the short-lived relief was broken, and heawoke to the stern realities of life. Alone--an exile from his land--astranger on a strange shore--he sat. He rested his cheek on hishand--the lute slipped from his grasp on the turf at his feet, and tearsfell fast. A figure approached--it was the Captain's.
"Cease, silly boy, your peevish weeping." Then, in an altered tone,"Cease crying, Juana--the deed is done--we will mend it yet."
"I know it," replied the disguised maiden, "I know it; I heard his lipsask her, I heard her lips accept him! She is a noble girl, she would nottake his offered hand till he vowed he loved no other. Let her behappy--Juana die of a broken heart. He loves her, he loves not me, andshe loves him--let them be happy!"
"'Sdeath--not so--but here comes the Earl, don't go to the Towers."
Then, changing his voice to Italian, he continued, "After all, sillyfool, you play not ill, and sing capitally, I warrant me."
"Si signore, Capitano--I can sing."
"Ha! what are you doing to my Italian, making him cry? Use not the poorchild so harshly."
"I'm blessed if I made his tears flow--it is his own silly thoughts; thelad can sing--at least he says so--let him sing us a song ere we go.Sing a song in praise of wine, boy!"
"And take some too," said the Earl, as old Andrew brought a silvergoblet full of red wine, and cakes. "Bring some more, Andrew, and tellthe ladies the Italian boy is going to give us a parting song."
"Ay, my Lord, I'll tell them."
Summoned by the old man, the whole of the guests soon gathered round thestone, on which the disguised Juana sat; he--for we must still call herso--had again resumed his instrument, and prepared to gratify the desireof his listeners. Old Andrew meanwhile, proffered the goblet--the boylifted it to his lips, and then, untasted, dashed it on the ground--toAndrew's great wrath, who cried, "Gude save us! sic a waste o' wine--hetreats the vera best wine an' it were no better than water frae theburn! gude lack, to see a bletherin' Frenchman wi' never a bawbee, daewhat the Earl wadna' wi' his thousands o' gowd an' siller."
Whilst Andrew thus vented his wrath on the Frenchman--as he called allforeigners without distinction--the Italian had played a wild prelude tothe air he now sang with a magn
ificent voice.
SONG.
Take hence the costly bowl! The red wine, brightly sparkling, Can fire no more the soul In midnight sorrow darkling, Without one lonely ray. The friends who pledged me once are gone, And she whose eyes so softly shone-- Ah! faithless maid--has left me lone. Hence, take yon bowl away!
Take hence the ruby wine! Its juice not cheers, but maddens; And when I think what fate is mine, Lost bliss, remembered, saddens, And but distracts my brain. In wine I pledged my lady fair, In wine I drowned my boyish care, Now hope has languished to despair, I'll never drink again!
Take hence the flowing bowl! It was not meant for sorrow. The careless mind, the sunny soul From it new beams may borrow; To me it lends no ray. In it, as in a glass, I see My parted joys, and that false she Who promised endless truth to me! Hence, take yon bowl away!
"In troth will I," said old Andrew, still burning with ire, "and ye'llnae get it full agen, that's all, you malapert!"
The poor boy, however, received better praise than Andrew was willing togive, and the Earl advancing to where he sat offered a green silk,netted purse, through which glimpses of the ruddy gold made Andrew'seyes sparkle. To the old man's surprise this was also refused.
"Aweel! thae puddocks are queery things, an' I had had the chance ofpetting my fingers on it, wad I hae refused?"
"What! refuse the purse?" said the Earl, surprised almost as much asAndrew, "you will make but a poor pittance indeed if you refuse yourrightful guerdon--the minstrel's due reward."
"Pardon me, this has been an evening of pleasure, the first on which Ihave smiled for many months. I cannot take money; I am perhaps tooproud,--but forgive me, I never took gold before, I have given it oft."
"I understand your feelings," said the Earl; "at least then accept thisring," he continued, as he drew a ring with a fine brilliant off hisfinger.
"I will, signore; the Holy Virgin bless you for pitying a poor outcast;may you never need the generosity you show. Adieu! Milord Inglese, adieuall you fair ladies, and gentlemen."
"What! are you not coming home with us?"
"No, signore, I cannot; you will pardon me if I seem rude."
Finding all entreaty vain the Earl and his guests re-entered theircarriages. This time the Marquis drove, with Johnny at his side; theEarl, his two sisters and Ellen occupied the interior of the carriage,which was closed. In a short time all were gone save two riders--theCaptain and Edward L'Estrange; they conversed some time with the mockItalian, and then spurring up their horses into breathless speed reachedthe Towers as soon as any one else, without exciting any suspicion.
The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 1 Page 18