"Who;--Trevelyan?"

"I did not suppose you could learn about him, because he would be hiding himself. But is Mr. Glasc.o.c.k here?"

"I forgot to ask," said Sir Marmaduke.

Lady Rowley did not reproach him. It is impossible that any father should altogether share a mother's anxiety in regard to the marriage of their daughters. But what a thing it would be! Lady Rowley thought that she could compound for all misfortunes in other respects, if she could have a daughter married to the future Lord Peterborough. She had been told in England that he was faultless,--not very clever, not very active, not likely to be very famous; but, as a husband, simply faultless. He was very rich, very good-natured, easily managed, more likely to be proud of his wife than of himself, addicted to no jealousies, afflicted by no vices, so respectable in every way that he was sure to become great as an English n.o.bleman by the very weight of his virtues. And it had been represented also to Lady Rowley that this paragon among men had been pa.s.sionately attached to her daughter! Perhaps she magnified a little the romance of the story; but it seemed to her that this greatly endowed lover had rushed away from his country in despair, because her daughter Nora would not smile upon him. Now they were, as she hoped, in the same city with him. But it was indispensable to her success that she should not seem to be running after him. To Nora, not a word had been said of the prospect of meeting Mr. Glasc.o.c.k at Florence. Hardly more than a word had been said to her sister Emily, and that under injunction of strictest secrecy. It must be made to appear to all the world that other motives had brought them to Florence,--as, indeed, other motives had brought them. Not for worlds would Lady Rowley have run after a man for her daughter; but still, still,--still, seeing that the man was himself so unutterably in love with her girl, seeing that he was so fully justified by his position to be in love with any girl, seeing that such a maximum of happiness would be the result of such a marriage, she did feel that, even for his sake, she must be doing a good thing to bring them together! Something, though not much of all this, she had been obliged to explain to Sir Marmaduke;--and yet he had not taken the trouble to inquire whether Mr. Glasc.o.c.k was in Florence!

On the third day after their arrival, the wife of the British minister came to call upon Lady Rowley, and the wife of the British minister was good-natured, easy-mannered, and very much given to conversation. She preferred talking to listening, and in the course of a quarter of an hour had told Lady Rowley a good deal about Florence; but she had not mentioned Mr. Glasc.o.c.k's name. It would have been so pleasant if the requisite information could have been obtained without the asking of any direct question on the subject!

But Lady Rowley, who from many years' practice of similar, though perhaps less distinguished, courtesies on her part, knew well the first symptom of the coming end of her guest's visit, found that the minister's wife was about to take her departure without an allusion to Mr. Glasc.o.c.k. And yet the names had been mentioned of so many English residents in Florence, who neither in wealth, rank, or virtue, were competent to hold a candle to that phoenix! She was forced, therefore, to pluck up courage, and to ask the question.

"Have you had a Mr. Glasc.o.c.k here this spring?" said Lady Rowley.

"What;--Lord Peterborough's son? Oh, dear, yes. Such a singular being!"

Lady Rowley thought that she could perceive that her phoenix had not made himself agreeable at the emba.s.sy. It might perhaps be that he had buried himself away from society because of his love. "And is here now?" asked Lady Rowley.

"I cannot say at all. He is sometimes here and sometimes with his father at Naples. But when here, he lives chiefly with the Americans.

They say he is going to marry an American girl,--their minister's niece. There are three of them, I think, and he is to take the eldest." Lady Rowley asked no more questions, and let her august visitor go, almost without another word.

CHAPTER LXXVI.

"WE SHALL BE SO POOR."

Mr. Glasc.o.c.k at that moment was not only in Florence, but was occupying rooms in the very hotel in which the Rowleys were staying.

Lady Rowley, when she heard that he was engaged to marry an American lady, became suddenly very sick at heart,--sick with a sickness that almost went beyond her heart. She felt ill, and was glad to be alone. The rumour might be untrue. Such rumours generally are untrue.

But then, as Lady Rowley knew very well, they generally have some foundation in truth. Mr. Glasc.o.c.k, if he were not actually engaged to the American girl, had probably been flirting with her;--and, if so, where was that picture which Lady Rowley had been painting for herself of a love-lorn swain to be brought back to the pleasures and occupations of the world only by the girl of whom he was enamoured?

But still she would not quite give up the project. Mr. Glasc.o.c.k, if he was in Italy, would no doubt see by the newspapers that Sir Marmaduke and his family were in Florence,--and would probably come to them. Then, if Nora would only behave herself, the American girl might still be conquered.

During two or three days after this nothing was seen or heard of Mr. Glasc.o.c.k. Had Lady Rowley thought of mentioning the name to the waiter at the hotel, she would have learned that he was living in the next pa.s.sage; but it did not occur to her to seek information in that fashion. Nor did she ask direct questions in other quarters about Mr. Glasc.o.c.k himself. She did, however, make inquiry about Americans living in Florence,--especially about the American Minister,--and, before a week had pa.s.sed overhead, had been introduced to the Spaldings. Mrs. Spalding was very civil, and invited Lady Rowley and all the girls and Sir Marmaduke to come to her on her "Fridays." She received her friends every Friday, and would continue to do so till the middle of June. She had nieces who would, she said, be so happy to make the acquaintance of the Miss Rowleys.

By this time the picture galleries, the churches, and the palaces in Florence had nearly all been visited. Poor Lady Rowley had dragged herself wearily from sight to sight, hoping always to meet with Mr. Glasc.o.c.k, ignorant of the fact that residents in a town do not pa.s.s their mornings habitually in looking after pictures. During this time inquiries were being made through the police, respecting Trevelyan; and Sir Marmaduke had obtained information that an English gentleman, with a little boy, had gone on to Siena, and had located himself there. There seemed to be but little doubt that this was Trevelyan,--though nothing had been learned with certainty as to the gentleman's name. It had been decided that Sir Marmaduke, with his courier and Mrs. Trevelyan, should go on to Siena, and endeavour to come upon the fugitive, and they had taken their departure on a certain morning. On that same day Lady Rowley was walking with Nora and one of the other girls through the hall of the hotel, when they were met in full face--by Mr. Glasc.o.c.k! Lady Rowley and Lucy were in front, and they, of course, did not know the man. Nora had seen him at once, and in her confusion hardly knew how to bear herself. Mr.

Glasc.o.c.k was pa.s.sing by her without recognising her,--had pa.s.sed her mother and sister, and had so far gone on, that Nora had determined to make no sign, when he chanced to look up and see who it was that was so close to him. "Miss Rowley," he said, "who thought of meeting you in Florence!" Lady Rowley, of course, turned round, and there was an introduction. Poor Nora, though she knew nothing of her mother's schemes, was confused and ill at ease. Mr. Glasc.o.c.k was very civil, but at the same time rather cold. Lady Rowley was all smiles and courtesy. She had, she said, heard his name from her daughters, and was very happy to make his acquaintance. Lucy looked on somewhat astonished to find that the lover whom her sister had been blamed for rejecting, and who was spoken of with so many encomiums, was so old a man. Mr. Glasc.o.c.k asked after Mrs. Trevelyan; and Lady Rowley, in a low, melancholy whisper, told him that they were now all in Florence, in the hope of meeting Mr. Trevelyan. "You have heard the sad story, I know, Mr. Glasc.o.c.k,--and therefore I do not mind telling you." Mr.

Glasc.o.c.k acknowledged that he did know the story, and informed her that he had seen Mr. Trevelyan in Florence within the last ten days.

This was so interesting, that, at Lady Rowley's request, he went with them up to their rooms, and in this way the acquaintance was made. It turned out that Mr. Glasc.o.c.k had spoken to Mr. Trevelyan, and that Trevelyan had told him that he meant for the present to take up his residence in some small Italian town. "And how was he looking, Mr.

Glasc.o.c.k?"

"Very ill, Lady Rowley;--very ill, indeed."

"Do not tell her so, Mr. Glasc.o.c.k. She has gone now with her father to Siena. We think that he is there, with the boy,--or, at least, that he may be heard of there. And you;--you are living here?" Mr.

Glasc.o.c.k said that he was living between Naples and Florence,--going occasionally to Naples, a place that he hated, to see his father, and coming back at intervals to the capital. Nora sat by, and hardly spoke a word. She was nicely dressed, with an exquisite little bonnet, which had been bought as they came through Paris; and Lady Rowley, with natural pride, felt that if he was ever in love with her child, that love must come back upon him now. American girls, she had been told, were hard, and dry, and sharp, and angular. She had seen some at the Mandarins, with whom she thought it must be impossible that any Englishman should be in love. There never, surely, had been an American girl like her Nora. "Are you fond of pictures, Mr.

Glasc.o.c.k?" she asked. Mr. Glasc.o.c.k was not very fond of pictures, and thought that he was rather tired of them. What was he fond of?

Of sitting at home and doing nothing. That was his reply, at least; and a very unsatisfactory reply it was, as Lady Rowley could hardly propose that they should come and sit and do nothing with him. Could he have been lured into churches or galleries, Nora might have been once more thrown into his company. Then Lady Rowley took courage, and asked him whether he knew the Spaldings. They were going to Mrs.

Spalding's that very evening,--she and her daughters. Mr. Glasc.o.c.k replied that he did know the Spaldings, and that he also should be at their house. Lady Rowley thought that she discovered something like a blush about his cheekbones and brow, as he made his answer. Then he left them, giving his hand to Nora as he went;--but there was nothing in his manner to justify the slightest hope.

"I don't think he is nice at all," said Lucy.

"Don't be so foolish, Lucy," said Lady Rowley angrily.

"I think he is very nice," said Nora. "He was only talking nonsense when he said that he liked to sit still and do nothing. He is not at all an idle man;--at least I am told so."

"But he is as old as Methuselah," said Lucy.

"He is between thirty and forty," said Lady Rowley. "Of course we know that from the peerage." Lady Rowley, however, was wrong. Had she consulted the peerage, she would have seen that Mr. Glasc.o.c.k was over forty.

Nora, as soon as she was alone and could think about it all, felt quite sure that Mr. Glasc.o.c.k would never make her another offer. This ought not to have caused her any sorrow, as she was very well aware that she would not accept him, should he do so. Yet, perhaps, there was a moment of some feeling akin to disappointment. Of course she would not have accepted him. How could she? Her faith was so plighted to Hugh Stanbury that she would be a by-word among women for ever, were she to be so false. And as she told herself, she had not the slightest feeling of affection for Mr. Glasc.o.c.k. It was quite out of the question, and a matter simply for speculation. Nevertheless it would have been a very grand thing to be Lady Peterborough, and she almost regretted that she had a heart in her bosom.

She had become fully aware during that interview that her mother still entertained hopes, and almost suspected that Lady Rowley had known something of Mr. Glasc.o.c.k's residence in Florence. She had seen that her mother had met Mr. Glasc.o.c.k almost as though some such meeting had been expected, and had spoken to him almost as though she had expected to have to speak to him. Would it not be better that she should at once make her mother understand that all this could be of no avail? If she were to declare plainly that nothing could bring about such a marriage, would not her mother desist? She almost made up her mind to do so; but as her mother said nothing to her before they started for Mr. Spalding's house, neither did she say anything to her mother. She did not wish to have angry words if they could be avoided, and she felt that there might be anger and unpleasant words were she to insist upon her devotion to Hugh Stanbury while this rich prize was in sight. If her mother should speak to her, then, indeed, she would declare her own settled purpose; but she would do nothing to accelerate the evil hour.

There were but few people in Mrs. Spalding's drawing-room when they were announced, and Mr. Glasc.o.c.k was not among them. Miss Wallachia Petrie was there, and in the confusion of the introduction was presumed by Lady Rowley to be one of the nieces introduced. She had been distinctly told that Mr. Glasc.o.c.k was to marry the eldest, and this lady was certainly older than the other two. In this way Lady Rowley decided that Miss Wallachia Petrie was her daughter's hated rival, and she certainly was much surprised at the gentleman's taste.

But there is nothing,--nothing in the way of an absurd matrimonial engagement,--into which a man will not allow himself to be entrapped by pique. Nora would have a great deal to answer for, Lady Rowley thought, if the unfortunate man should be driven by her cruelty to marry such a woman as this one now before her.

It happened that Lady Rowley soon found herself seated by Miss Petrie, and she at once commenced her questionings. She intended to be very discreet, but the subject was too near her heart to allow her to be altogether silent. "I believe you know Mr. Glasc.o.c.k?" she said.

"Yes," said Wallachia, "I do know him." Now the peculiar nasal tw.a.n.g which our cousins over the water have learned to use, and which has grown out of a certain national instinct which coerces them to express themselves with self-a.s.sertion;--let the reader go into his closet and talk through his nose for awhile with steady attention to the effect which his own voice will have, and he will find that this theory is correct;--this intonation, which is so peculiar among intelligent Americans, had been adopted con amore, and, as it were, taken to her bosom by Miss Petrie. Her ears had taught themselves to feel that there could be no vitality in speech without it, and that all utterance unsustained by such tone was effeminate, vapid, useless, unpersuasive, unmusical,--and English. It was a complaint frequently made by her against her friends Caroline and Olivia that they debased their voices, and taught themselves the puling British mode of speech. "I do know the gentleman," said Wallachia;--and Lady Rowley shuddered. Could it be that such a woman as this was to reign over Monkhams, and become the future Lady Peterborough?

"He told me that he is acquainted with the family," said Lady Rowley.

"He is staying at our hotel, and my daughter knew him very well when he was living in London."

"I dare say. I believe that in London the t.i.tled aristocrats do hang pretty much together." It had never occurred to poor Lady Rowley, since the day in which her husband had been made a knight, at the advice of the Colonial Minister, in order that the inhabitants of some island might be gratified by the opportunity of using the t.i.tle, that she and her children had thereby become aristocrats.

Were her daughter Nora to marry Mr. Glasc.o.c.k, Nora would become an aristocrat,--or would, rather, be enn.o.bled,--all which Lady Rowley understood perfectly.

"I don't know that London society is very exclusive in that respect,"

said Lady Rowley.

"I guess you are pretty particular," said Miss Petrie, "and it seems to me you don't have much regard to intellect or erudition,--but fix things up straight according to birth and money."

"I hope we are not quite so bad as that," said Lady Rowley. "I do not know London well myself, as I have pa.s.sed my life in very distant places."

"The distant places are, in my estimation, the best. The further the mind is removed from the contamination incidental to the centres of long-established luxury, the more chance it has of developing itself according to the intention of the Creator, when he bestowed his gifts of intellect upon us." Lady Rowley, when she heard this eloquence, could hardly believe that such a man as Mr. Glasc.o.c.k should really be intent upon marrying such a lady as this who was sitting next to her.

In the meantime, Nora and the real rival were together, and they also were talking of Mr. Glasc.o.c.k. Caroline Spalding had said that Mr.

Glasc.o.c.k had spoken to her of Nora Rowley, and Nora acknowledged that there had been some acquaintance between them in London. "Almost more than that, I should have thought," said Miss Spalding, "if one might judge by his manner of speaking of you."

[Ill.u.s.tration: The rivals.]

"He is a little given to be enthusiastic," said Nora, laughing.

"The least so of all mankind, I should have said. You must know he is very intimate in this house. It begun in this way;--Olivia and I were travelling together, and there was--a difficulty, as we say in our country when three or four gentlemen shoot each other. Then there came up Mr. Glasc.o.c.k and another gentleman. By-the-bye, the other gentleman was your brother-in-law."

"Poor Mr. Trevelyan!"

"He is very ill;--is he not?"