Lady Rosamond's Secret Part 14

Trevelyan. The faithful steward of the family had grown old in the service and not capable of managing the business as in the days of his prime. Yet the fact only added to his reputation. Captain Trevelyan advised in such a quiet and suggestive manner that the old servant scarcely felt his growing inability. No discord prevailed. Moderation was the true secret. The family of Colonel Trevelyan treated their dependents with gentleness and kindness. Lady Trevelyan often sought advice from them in such a way as both showed her confidence in their opinion, and gained unbounded respect towards the relations.h.i.+p thus existing between them. Mary Douglas at first seemed inclined to shrink from the reserved demeanor of her ladys.h.i.+p, but further acquaintance made her feel comparatively at ease. Really the present occasion afforded opportunity for what may, with due propriety, be termed a complication of plans, or more properly still, plans within plans. Lady Trevelyan had formed her little plans. To do justice to her ladys.h.i.+p we will not say that she formed it, but that she would very agreeably and readily have acquiesced in the matter. Reader, we are half inclined to keep her ladys.h.i.+p's--no, we will not say plan--fond dream--a secret.

Supposing that many of you are not considered temper-proof we dare not provoke the multiplied a.s.saults of hitherto amiable and patient friends, therefore we will treat you fairly by taking you into our entire confidence at present. Lady Trevelyan had soon learned to love Mary Douglas with a feeling akin to her nature. She fondly watched every effort or action in the movement of her favorite guest. Every playful or fond gesture was carefully h.o.a.rded up as a store of treasures in the mind of her ladys.h.i.+p. Faithfully did she note each mark of favor shown at the hand of the genial young host. Lady Trevelyan was _only a woman_ as all others. Do not chide if she had set her heart upon one fond thought--if she secretly hoped that Guy Trevelyan would endeavor to secure for her another daughter in the beautiful Mary Douglas. Is a devoted mother always rewarded for such anxiety towards her first-born and heir? Do these respective heirs and highly-favored children strive to further the wishes of those deeply interested parents, especially mothers? In a more particular sense, did Captain Trevelyan take any steps to advance the scheme which lay near her ladys.h.i.+p's heart?

f.a.n.n.y Trevelyan was also busily occupied in watching the daily progress of her fond projects. She was not overjoyed in fond expectation, yet was contented to await the result of daily companions.h.i.+p for an indefinite period, as Maude Bereford was to remain until her presence was demanded at the castle. Still the young hostess gave herself no uneasiness about her brother's affairs. If he would form an attachment to Maude Bereford it would be a source for much rejoicing and happiness. She was altogether unconscious of the counter plots or schemes laid to thwart her own. Mr. Howe was vastly entertaining in his endless variety of diverting moods, making himself by turn the especial cavalier of every lady in the company. To Lady Trevelyan he was doubly considerate and devoted. Captain Trevelyan knew the motive and warmly appreciated it. He had many times wished for an opportunity to return such pa.s.sing acts of kindness, yet in vain. Captain Douglas fully sustained his former reputation for satirical jests and well-timed jokes at the expense of his friends. Frequently those whom he regarded _most_ received attacks in proportion to the value of such regard. Formerly to Lieutenant Trevelyan and his friend Howe were daily administered doses of almost equal quant.i.ty and in double proportion to those outside the household.

Yet who did not admire the gifted, manly, and handsome son of Sir Howard Douglas? Who was not ready to welcome him with heart and hand around the festive board or social circle? Who has not become infected by his jovial, gay, happy, and generous nature? Truly, Captain Charles Douglas was a worthy son of an honored race--the royal house of Douglas. In the midst of such a company of "tried friends and true," the days and weeks must have flown rapidly away while enjoying the hospitality of Trevelyan Hall.

f.a.n.n.y Trevelyan, admired, petted, and caressed, had still the same childlike nature when friends.h.i.+p had been matured by daily companions.h.i.+p. Mary Douglas was charmed with the sweet and engaging manner which was at first attributed to a want of confidence. Frequently she spoke to Captain Trevelyan concerning his "child sister," as she playfully termed her once, exclaiming: "How beautiful if f.a.n.n.y shall always be a child woman."

"It shall be my earnest wish," returned Guy; "I would not have her otherwise."

CHAPTER XX.

A WINTER IN THE ETERNAL CITY.

Gerald Bereford was now enjoying the soft summer breezes, blue skies and golden suns.h.i.+ne of an Italian climate. His health seemed to improve as he neared the far-famed city--the eternal city--the gigantic monument of what has been in ages of the mighty past. Many visions arose before Lady Rosamond's mind as she contemplated the magnificent ruins that met her at every gaze. In the company of several acquaintances they visited scenes of impressive and peculiar interest: St. Peter's, in all its glory, rising from its piazza of stately columns and fountains, something too grand for description. This imposing specimen of cla.s.sic architecture, with grandeur inconceivable, the interior, the lofty dome, called up emotions her ladys.h.i.+p could never forget. In the coliseum the invalid seemed to enjoy returning vigor as he looked down from the upper halls and viewed the triumphal arches of Constantine, Septimus, Severus and t.i.tus, now crumbling into decay, the lofty corridors left to the mercy of the elements, the endless porches gra.s.s grown and unprotected from the wild beast, the mouldering parapet, taught the one inspiring theme--mortality. This ruin of ruins--what can it not recall to a vivid imagination? The thousands who lined those seats in eager gaze upon the arena with its b.l.o.o.d.y and heart-sickening conflicts, its array of blood-thirsty antagonists, its dying groans, its weltering victims.

Where are they? What remains? Awful solitude, awful grandeur, awful beauty, desolation. Peace, the emblem of Christianity, now reigns in the ancient stronghold of barbaric pa.s.sion, butchery and strife. Lady Rosamond had visited ruins of palaces, castles, bridges, arches, cathedrals, monuments and countless relics of the past, but none had the power to chain her thoughts as the stupendous coliseum, viewed in the solemn stillness of a moonlight night. The present was a beautiful dream. It had a softening effect upon the devoted wife, infusing peace, content, and calm repose. The solemn reminders on every side had a charm to soothe her hitherto troubled breast. Holy emotions were nurtured within the heart where once reposed unresisting conflicts of rebellious strife and discontent.

With the warm breath of nature came awakening life into the emaciated frame of the invalid. Lady Rosamond devoted every waking moment to her husband. In the charming eventide they sat upon the balcony of their residence overlooking the Corso, catching a glimpse of the open country beyond the surrounding mountains and the ever restless Tiber.

Frequently, they rode slowly along the Appian Way, now almost impa.s.sable for heaps of rubbish, mounds, and broken fragments, temples, columns, pillars, and successive piles of neglected relics. The Campagna, in its dreary aspect, often tempted their stay. Sometimes her ladys.h.i.+p would have a feeling of vexation, knowing that it was utterly impossible to visit more of the sights of Rome. They might remain for years and leave many scenes unexplored. The palace of the Vatican formed a life-long study for Lady Rosamond. Only a few of its four thousand rooms could be visited, yet these were bewildering in variety. Here they could view the most wonderful collections of art and grandeur that the world affords.

Here were stored the endless piles of antique trophies of every clime--rooms representing oriental scenes throughout, starlit skies, and monsters of unknown existence meet one on every side and fill the mind with awe.

For the benefit of the reader we will insert the letters written by Lady Rosamond to her friend, Mary Douglas, containing a short description of some important places, and showing the tender interest inciting the writer when referring to the circ.u.mstance of her husband's ill health--the hopeful vein which pervaded throughout, and the true spirit of friends.h.i.+p extended to the absent one.

Rome, February 10th, 1831.

_My Dearest Mary_:

As many miles lie between us there is no alternative but the hastily written and imperfect scribble which will shortly be presented you, if the elements have not conspired against us.

In order to relieve your uneasiness I beg to state that Gerald's health is daily improving. He has much faith in Rome. Scarcely a day pa.s.ses without his enjoying the benefit of the delightful atmosphere and the lovely drives out into the open country, of which I must tell you afterwards. The large number of acquaintances formed since our arrival have contributed much to our enjoyment. We frequently meet many of our old friends. Imagine our delightful surprise on seeing Captain Crofton, his wife and daughter. Of course you remember the latter--a lovely girl of purely blonde style, whom we meet at Lady Berkeley's, and who created such sensations in London circles on her first appearance in society.

Gerald declares that the face of an old friend is better than medicine. What do you think he would say were you to enter rather suddenly upon us? My dearest, I know what I would say if such an overwhelming happiness were in store. These thoughts call up feelings which are inimical to peace and content. I am almost tempted to wish for the quiet of our English home and the sight of your dear face. But this must not be. I shall forget to give you some sights of Rome if I indulge in vain and foolish regrets.

Really I am at a loss how to convey any idea of such scenes as we are almost daily witnessing. In the present instance I feel my inability to appreciate what is lofty and inspiring to every cultivated mind. Often I am inclined to envy those of brilliant intellectual perceptions like yourself. When the day arrives that you visit the Eternal City will it not be viewed in a different sense than in the present under the ordinary gaze of your short-sighted Rosamond?

Gerald says: "Tell Mary something of the churches," without thinking of the arduous task therein devolved. Poor fellow! He seems anxious to make amends for so much self-sacrifice. In compliance to his wishes your friend reaps twofold pleasure, therefore Mary shall hear "of the churches."

About three weeks ago a party of tourists, including the Croftons and ourselves; visited several of the grand old churches, so important in the history of Roman architecture of cla.s.sic ages. The first we entered was the church of the Ara Coeli, said to occupy the site of the ancient temple of Jupiter Feretrius. It was a gloomy old structure with long rows of pillars of Etruscan design.

On ascending the long flight of steep stairs on one side the impressive gloom increased. The situation awoke old a.s.sociations of the sybilline and vague predictions of the time-honored soothsayers--their power--their greatness--their fall. We were more than impressed with the churches of St. Giovanni and St. Paolo, beneath which lay in awful depths the subterranean caverns said to be connected with the Coliseum. Gerald remained above while I followed the explorers through these dismal yawning gulfs seemingly ready to open and shut their victims in a living tomb. Streets ran in various directions; the mouldy, damp walls emitted a disagreeable watery vapor that rendered the air unbearable; stagnant pools lay on all sides. Is it not an appalling thought that these successive ranges of caverns were constructed for the human victims to be eaten by the beasts at the Coliseum, yet such is the legend. Doubtless you already weary of churches, but having first attempted them at the suggestion of Gerald, now I am deeply interested in the matter myself. But you will only listen to one more very short account. The church of San Sebastiano, which next received us, is situated on the Appian Way, and perhaps the most remarkable of any we have hitherto visited. The site is truly beyond description. The stupendous ma.s.ses of rocks piled on every side appeared to give it an interest more than common. The endless rows of decaying columns, pillars, stained windows, and paintings, added one more link to the chain of daily events which form such an important part in our visit.

As I intend very soon to write you something of a livelier description, I now conclude this hastily-written scribble. Dearest, I expect to hear from you all immediately. Gerald is rapidly improving, and is sanguine of ultimate recovery. Adieu. From

Your Rosamond.

Lady Rosamond now entertained hopes of her husband's recovery. He seemed much stronger and took a deeper interest in their explorations. In the company of English friends he visited all the accessible spots of historic ground. Lady Rosamond was always ready to encourage him by her hopeful remarks and winning smile. She had formed an attachment to the lovely Mabel Crofton, who indeed repaid her in a fond return.

Nothing gave Gerald Bereford more anxiety than the pale face of his wife. In his feeble health he strove to draw her ladys.h.i.+p's attention towards the social circle with a view to raise her occasional drooping spirits.

In the young English maiden Lady Rosamond found much company. They conversed much and enjoyed the sights together with united regard and interest.

In answer to a lengthy letter received shortly afterwards from Mary Douglas, the following was penned by Lady Rosamond:

Rome, April 15th, 1831.

_My Darling Mary_:

Truly did you respond to my wishes. How can I ever repay so much devotion? You have indeed granted my requests in mentioning all my friends, and giving all the matter which interests Gerald so much.

He is indeed truly grateful and is going to write you by next mail.

His health has not been improving so rapidly of late, yet we have every hope of his recovery. Will it not be a happy moment when we meet again on the sh.o.r.es of dear old England? The very dust and fog will have a charm hitherto unknown.

As we are in Rome you will expect something from Rome, therefore I will tell you of what has recently been going on. Last week was the Carnival. Gerald complained of weakness and fatigue, having exerted himself too much during the previous week. He was much disappointed in not being able to partic.i.p.ate in the amus.e.m.e.nt, but had to be satisfied by remaining on the balcony of our residence, overlooking the Corso, which, as you know, is the princ.i.p.al street paraded on those occasions. Gerald interrupts me by requesting a long letter and full description, therefore on him alone rests the blame if I exceed the length usually devoted to letter writing.

Now for the Carnival. At an early hour on Monday morning the usual bustle and active preparations commenced. Carriages rolled along laden with confectionaries and flowers. In fact the street, houses, and pa.s.sing vehicles of every description, appeared as though the heavens had literally rained flowers--flowers showered in every direction. Evidently we were certain that flowers were to be one of the prominent features witnessed in the grand demonstration. Every house opening on the Corso was covered with bright streamers, pennons, and flags of every size, shape, color, and hue--red, blue, white, green, gold, purple, yellow, and pink. Every window was festooned with flowers, banners, and like array. Every shop was converted into gorgeous saloons, decorated with trees, garlands, evergreens, resplendent in silver, crimson, and gold, filled with hundreds of anxious spectators. Every nook and corner was made bright by the sparkle of beautiful eyes, merry smiles and happy faces. Thousands jostled on every side in representation of monkeys, lions, tigers, soldiers, clowns, maniacs. Satanic deities and every other deity credited to countless ages, helped to swell the crowd wedging themselves between line upon line of carriages four abreast. The general bombardment commenced on all sides was truly an exciting scene. Grand a.s.saults were made upon houses and carriage with alike furious resistance; missiles of bonbons rose in the air, volley upon volley; storms of flowers. Those seated in windows and balconies made desperate onsets upon the pa.s.sing carriages. Hand to hand encounters now became general; monkeys a.s.sailed lions; mamelukes returned the fire of gipsies; a grand hurly-burly arose from every point in sight. Clouds fell from upper balconies upon each side of the street as the crowds poured on in incessant streams which became at intervals one moving ma.s.s of dust, white as snow. Beautiful ladies, maidens and children, mingled in the gay scene--all intent upon the same enjoyment. It is impossible to convey the faintest idea of this grand display which is kept up from early morning until half-past four o'clock, when the street is cleared as by magic. How such a concourse of carriages and people get into the adjoining nooks and piazzas in such a short time is astonis.h.i.+ng, while thousands still cling to the sidewalks of the Corso. A chariot race is the next proceeding, when, within the s.p.a.ce of a few moments, the horses are in their places--the signal given--the distance of the Corso gained--the race won.

This is the first day's outline of sport, which is followed in successive order until the end of the season. Having already lengthened this letter in twofold proportion, I must take room to say that the festive scene instantly ceases as the solemn notes of Ave Maria rises from the hundreds of steeples--the requiem for the departing carnival.

I will not distract your attention with the palaces of the Caesars, the Cenci, St. Angelo, and the remains of antiquity still to be seen here, but trust that when we meet again every wish that you formerly expressed regarding our stay in Rome will be realized a thousandfold.

Looking at the volume of this letter I feel quite ashamed, but trust that absence and distance will help to plead my cause. Gerald seems quite confident that his suggestion will also speak loudly in my favor, and perhaps he is right. At least I hope so. Remember me kindly to every one of the family, I shall mention none particularly. Gerald expresses a wish not to be forgotten by you.

Now, dearest Mary, if this truly formidable missive weary you, please deal gently with Gerald and

Your Loving Rosamond.

Lady Rosamond had given her friend some of the glimpses of her experience in Rome, yet she had much more to relate on her arrival. Some months would elapse before her husband would consider his health sufficiently restored to return to his native land. At intervals he seemed almost restored when a sudden relapse would cause a renewed return of the symptoms attending his flattering disease. Still they were hopeful that with the returning spring health would be restored the patient invalid. Throughout the severe dispensation Gerald Bereford manifested no irritation, no fretfulness, no complaining. He seemed to be happy in appreciating the labors of his beautiful wife. On one occasion, when she asked if he did not weary of his sickness, he quietly replied:

"Darling Rosamond, it has shown that you are willing to sacrifice every pleasure in devotion to one who can never fully repay such a debt of grat.i.tude. Do you think that I can try, my Rosamond?" exclaimed he, pressing a fond kiss upon the lips of the pale but lovely woman, as she sat beside him.

Ah! Gerald Bereford knew not that in these words there lay a hidden meaning. Surely, and in a way unknown to both, will the debt be paid.

CHAPTER XXI.

LIGHT, SHADOW, AND DARKNESS.

The guests at Trevelyan Hall had departed, Maude Bereford alone remaining. Captain Trevelyan applied himself to the duties devolving upon him with a will. His hospitality was the comment of many. He had begun life aright. His honest heart and upright principles were a sure pa.s.sport to prosperity and popularity. "The Hall" was a scene of much gaiety and resort. Large gatherings were of frequent occurrence, to which the families of the surrounding neighbourhood were cordially invited. f.a.n.n.y Trevelyan was idolized among her youthful companions and a.s.sociates. Her sweet face was welcomed as a delightful acquisition on every occasion. Many sought to show their fond appreciation of her retiring manners and graceful elegance. Flattery had no power over her.

She possessed a character of too much depth and penetration to harbor the least feeling akin to vanity. Lady Trevelyan had guarded her daughter's education and trained her with a view to set a proper estimate upon those qualities which enn.o.ble and elevate the soul. Maude Bereford was a proper companion for f.a.n.n.y Trevelyan. Their minds were in harmony, while the latter acted as a propelling power to force the aspirations of the other above their common flight. Lady Trevelyan was pleased with this companions.h.i.+p. Though she could not discern the brilliant genius and powers which characterized the beautiful Mary Douglas, there was much to admire in Maude Bereford. Captain Trevelyan was kind, amiable and attentive. He paid every mark of respect towards his gentle and loveable guest. Frequently they walked, chatted and rode together. Maude was pleased with the gentlemanly attentions of the engaging officer, and showed her appreciation in many ways. He enjoyed the society of those two girls much as those of playful children. f.a.n.n.y was truly happy in her brother's company.

"Dear Guy, you must never love any one more than me," was a frequent rejoinder as she received his many tender caresses.

One day, when seated upon the lower end of the balcony, f.a.n.n.y laid her hand lovingly upon her brother's shoulder and looking into his face, exclaimed:

"Guy, I have often wondered about you."

"About me, pet," returned the latter, "what can it be about me that is really worthy of so much attention from a young lady fair? Already I feel as of some importance."