Ra--vensworth--adieu! adieu!"

The last few words were rather guessed than heard. The Earl rose and hastened to his wife's side; kneeling down, he took his sister's hand, which he pressed to his lips,--it was growing cold. Just then the Doctor entered. He did not speak, but took his patient's hand. The pulse still throbbed, but so faintly it was scarce perceptible. For some time, perhaps a quarter of an hour, they all watched in dead silence. The day faded fast, and presently a small lamp was lighted by the Doctor. The dying girl once more opened her eyes, which had been so long closed all thought she had gone, but feared to express their opinion. Again her lips moved. Ellen pressed close to her, but failed to catch the words.

The flickering flame of life hovered long;--they "thought her dying when she slept, and sleeping when she died." So pa.s.sively pa.s.sed away her soul, her form had long grown cold ere they knew she was gone. Not a sigh, not a word, not a breath told the exact moment she ceased to exist! It was on a night as calm as her spirit she died,--and thus tranquilly ended a short, but latterly embittered life.

It is impossible to paint the grief of the surviving mourners; as they stood round the bed where she lay so lifelike they could scarce believe her dead. The "hectic streak" still tinged her face, and a smile so placid that it seemed as if it lingered there to tell the mourners how the disembodied soul was blessed.

"She is happy now," said the Countess; "we should not grieve over her as if we had no hope; but we have a blessed certainty she is happy."

But though she said so, Ellen's heart was too full, and she gave way to a pa.s.sionate flood of tears, as she kissed the placid cheek of the dead.

We need say no more, save that the loved remains were laid in their coffin bed, the waxlike arms closed crosswise over her breast, and a white rose laid between them. The lid was then screwed down, and the coffin sent to the Towers, where with becoming solemnity she was laid beside her sister.

The Earl and Countess and their companions started for England, and after the funeral of Lady Florence remained in perfect seclusion for many months at the Towers. Grief often follows grief, and woe comes on woe, as billows roll on billows, and smite the rocks. Scarcely had the Earl and Countess recovered from the grief of Florence's death, when the scarlet fever broke out at the Towers, and seized both of their children. Augusta pa.s.sed safely through it, but it a.s.sumed a more malignant guise with little Viscount de Vere, and with fearful rapidity crushed its victim, leaving the poor Countess almost heartbroken. She looked on Augusta as her last hope left, and the culture of her opening mind seemed almost the only object worth living for, excepting her husband, who was utterly stricken by the death of his sister and their only son, and needed indeed a loving wife like Ellen to soothe his sorrow. Faithfully did she fulfil her vows to love him in sickness and in health, for better and for worse!

CHAPTER XI.

_Speed._--"Sir, we are undone! these are the villains That all the travellers do fear so much."

_Two Gentlemen of Verona._

Mr. Lennox, about seven years after the events we narrated in the last chapter, was sitting in his drawing-room with several of his children, as well as his grandchildren, around him. Louisa, whom we recollect at the picnic, we should have before stated had succeeded in captivating our friend Mr. Scroop, of Scroop Hall, and rejoiced her lord's heart already with two little Scroops, who promised to prove chips off the old block. Both she, her husband, and the two boys were present, as were also two other married daughters, and the only son, a wild but amiable young fellow at Cambridge.

Although Mr. Lennox had lost his partner in life since we last saw him, the world evidently had run smoothly with him. Through the Earl's interest he had obtained a very lucrative appointment in the Register House, in the Sasines office, and though his hair was sprinkled with snow, otherwise he was the same comfortable looking, self-satisfied man; proud of himself, his house, his hospitality, his children and now grandchildren. He had managed to get off three of his six daughters, one had died a few years ago, and one was engaged to a young Baronet; the youngest, and best looking he destined for some still higher lover!

Indeed, Caroline was worthy a better lot than awaited her. She was tall and elegant in figure; her dark hair almost black, brilliant eyes and high colour gave an air of more than dashing beauty to her face. To this she added the accomplishments of singing and requisite artistic talents, besides possessing winning manners, wit and talent in conversation. Mr.

Lennox considered her the flower of his family, the golden cord to his seven-stringed lyre, of which one string was only as yet broken; he was never tired of showing off the painting and drawings of his daughter,--he was anxious to bring her out on every occasion, and took care that everybody heard and admired her singing, her conversation, and her personal charms. Of William his son he was also vain to a degree, and in his bringing up had totally neglected all proper discipline, or inculcating a style of economy in living at all commensurate with his means. The consequence was at seventeen young Lennox was a conglomeration of personal conceit--vanity of dress--and dogmatical pedantry. From his father he had inherited a pleasing exterior, had been crammed with learning from his infancy; and, from all he had heard of the way the young De Veres had behaved when they excited the wonder and envy of all the country round, he had imbibed the idea it was a grand thing to be fast, and so he had shaped his course, quite forgetting he wanted the means to be so, and already he was deep in the secrets of the Jews, and all the vices of juvenile depravity. When his follies were told to his father he would say, "William is adolescent yet--when he grows matured in years he will become wiser. The Earl of Wentworth was also fast when young, but he is now quite sobered down--every young man must sow his wild oats."

"Yo, ho! what a dull hole this is!" exclaimed William Lennox, yawning.

"What on earth shall I do with myself? Ha! I know, I shall go and see Mrs. Siddons act."

"William, my son, I fear the stage has too great allurements for your mind! but still I can fancy you must find this dulness intolerable. At any rate you will be earlier to-night, won't you, my boy?"

"I'll see, governor--don't wait up for me; I've got a pa.s.s key," and the young man sauntered from the room, leaving the rest to amuse themselves without him.

"I am afraid William gets to no good at that theatre," said Scroop.

"What a state he came home in last night! he'll ruin his const.i.tution if he goes on so."

"He is but a boy--he will grow wiser in time--poor fellow, I do feel for him!" said his father.

"You should check it while he is young; look at John de Vere: it was just that way he began his course," said Scroop again.

"I hope you do not think my dear William will turn out so utterly degraded as that most unfortunate and evil principled young man! Poor William! it is only a little harmless extravagance I can blame him for yet."

"Little beginnings you know; watch the first sign of decay, stop the earliest symptoms of decline."

"Have you ever heard any tidings of that singular character?--he was the most dark-minded, mysterious man I ever met in all my travels," said Mr.

Lennox, anxious to change the conversation.

"The Earl has I believe caused every inquiry to be made, but up till now without any result. The last, you know, that was ever heard of them was their sailing in a terrific snow-storm from Leith. I say them, for I need no longer hide the fact that the Count Czinsky was none other than Edward L'Estrange."

"You astonish me. Why did you never let this transpire before? does the Earl know it?"

"He does not; to tell the truth my promise not to let this out was an extorted one, and I consider myself no longer bound to keep it, especially as there is little doubt that both of them have long since paid the debt of nature, and no doubt secured a fearful reckoning with their Maker. Certainly that Weird in the family is a wonderful thing! At first I doubted it--but now we have the evidence of our own senses! Only the Earl left! Lady Arranmore burned at nineteen, Lady Florence dead of consumption at almost the same age, Frank de Vere killed in India at the head of his men gallantly cutting his way through the enemy, and the Captain, as far as we know, drowned years ago! The Earl is young yet, and if he does die so I shall think it the most marvellous curse."

"The untimely fates of that family," said Louisa, "have quite cast a gloom on the Old Towers: the Earl has not been there since the funeral of his son: he has become quite a foreigner. I think he always lives at Naples now."

"How I should like to do so," said Caroline; "that charming Naples--it is my day dream to see it some day. Do you not think, papa, we should make the tour some winter when you have your leave?"

"I should certainly like nothing better, Carry. We have travelled--let me see--through France, Germany, Prussia, the Rhine and Switzerland, Italy alone remains; we shall see, darling. Some day perhaps I may take my Caroline to show the Italian donnas what an English beauty is."

"Louisa, love," said Scroop, "our little boys should be off to bed--shouldn't they?"

"I will take them upstairs, and then we can have some music or play cards. I wish William would stay more at home! Come, dears, it's time to say good-night to grandpapa."

Scarcely had the young Hopefuls departed with their mother than the post came in, and a foreign letter arrived for Mr. Lennox. He broke the seal, and read it with an expression of great joy on his face.

"Whenever we converse about our friends we are sure to hear about them.

Here's a letter from Lord Wentworth, in which he says, as he knows I generally take a tour during my winter's vacation, he hopes I will pay him a visit at Foggia, where he is now residing, a lovely place in Capitanata. He wishes us to come by Naples, as he trusts I will bring one or more of my family. I am sure this is most considerate and kind.

As I require amus.e.m.e.nt after my toilsome labours as much as William does after his Cambridge term, I shall most decidedly accept for myself, William, who must see the world, and my little Carry; you will come, won't you, my darling?"

"Oh, I shall be so delighted--I did so wish to see Italy!"

"And then, my love, think under what auspicious circ.u.mstances we shall see it with the Earl, and that will give us an introduction to the best society there!"

"I fancy Foggia cannot boast of much society--the Earl is quite retired now I hear," said Scroop. "However, it is an interesting town--there is the Cathedral, with the famous image of the Virgin, the gates of Frederick's palace, and there Manfred won his victory. Then, on the way, you see Naples. By-the-by though, you pa.s.s the Val di Bovino--the haunt of all the brigands! you will have to take care of them!"

"Oh! we shall have no need to fear them. I and William armed cap-a-pie--and the postilions and all, will be enough to scare them."

"Don't be over sure, and take some sbirri with you, I advise you; there is Luigi Vardarelli, the great chief there, and his band is so powerful he will stop whole tribes of peasants, and rob them of their cattle and gold."

"Ha! he will find William and me different metal, if the rascal tries to stop us!"

In this way they all talked on till late. William Lennox was still absent, and the lady part of the family retired, whilst Mr. Lennox and Scroop sat up to let him in. They had a long watch, for it was only after three had struck the young worthy made his appearance in a horrid state of intoxication. Mr. Lennox was really much concerned, and annoyed at this _expose_ of his favourite to his own son-in-law, however, he got his poor boy to bed as quietly as possible, and himself sought Morpheus's charms.

Young Lennox was well pleased when he next morning heard the plan, and declared he would give the Italian robbers cause to know he had not been under Angelo in vain, should they risk an encounter. In a few weeks another letter in answer to Mr. Lennox's acceptance was received, in which the Earl pressed him to come immediately; they were quite alone, excepting the Marquis, who was paying the Countess and himself a visit.

In conclusion, he begged Mr. Lennox to call at the Towers and give an enclosed note to old Andrew, who would give him a jewel-case of the Countess's, who was anxious to have them for the spring at Rome; he begged him not to let Luigi, the terror of the Capitanata, get hold of the jewels, and also impressed on his friend the necessity of taking an escort of sbirri on the road from Naples to Foggia. Mr. Lennox was certainly somewhat alarmed at these notices, and almost determined to leave Caroline behind; but the young lady so coaxed her father to let her go, he at last consented, saying only, if she was run off with, and became Luigi's bride, it was not his fault. The romantic girl was quite ready to run any risk for the pleasure of seeing Naples and Italy, and William was quite wild in his anxiety to show off his fencing, and almost began to wish an encounter with this celebrated bandit.

Early in December, Mr. Lennox, his son, and youngest daughter started in a vessel from Leith bound for Naples, carrying with him the case of jewellery, which was somewhat larger than he imagined, and from old Andrew's special caution not to let his eye off it, seemed to be of immense value. He was rather sorry he had been chosen to carry them, and could not help wishing the Earl had selected any other person in the world but himself. Nothing unusual happened on their voyage. They had rough weather in the Channel, rougher in the Bay of Biscay, and roughest in the Mediterranean, which Mr. Lennox had a.s.sured his children would be like a millpond. None of them proved very good sailors, and they were all delighted when Vesuvius appeared and they came to rest in the Porto Grande. Two or three days at Naples quite re-invigorated them after their stormy pa.s.sage, and they made all the excursions that travellers generally make; saw the galleries, the lions of the city, walked every evening along the Villa Reale, and were quite charmed with the foreign aspect of the place, the costumes of the peasants, and white houses along the whiter sands edging the dark blue Mediterranean. They were also disgusted with the lazzaroni beggars, pa.s.sport officials, and the extreme dirtiness of the back streets, as well as broiled by the sun.

The vettura corriere, or mail coach, started at midnight for Otranto, and as it pa.s.sed Foggia, Mr. Lennox determined to take it so far. At midnight, accordingly, he and his party appeared at the coach office to secure places; unfortunately, though they got their places and were comfortably settled, some pa.s.sengers for Taranto, Bari, and other places still further on the route, also arrived, and they were accommodated with seats, whilst Mr. Lennox, his son, and Caroline in the most surly manner were bid to alight and informed they could not be taken. Mr.

Lennox stormed, swore, and threatened the English amba.s.sador should be consulted, and a hundred other calamities occur for stopping him and turning him out in this unjustifiable way. It was all to no purpose,--their baggage was tossed out, and the mail drove off. After a good deal of fighting, Mr. Lennox managed to get his fares refunded, and a couple of hours later drove off in a hired vehicle with four horses and two postilions. At Marigliano our travellers stopped for breakfast, spending a couple of hours in seeing what was to be seen. They again started off with fresh horses to Cardinale, a small village at the foot of the mountains; here they took advantage of a miserable table d'hote, and gladly set off again up the steep hill-side. First a valley was crossed full of vineyards and nut trees, besides orchards filled with apples and other fruits, above them spread dense chestnut forests.

Crossing a deep ravine, their carriage slowly climbed a tremendous ascent, from the top of which they commanded a grand view of the wide plains of Lavoro, till at last they rested half an hour at Monteforte, and thence began the descent to Avellino through a narrow valley, with the hills on either side thickly wooded with nut trees. Soon they saw the poplar rows which told them their first day's labours were over, and they gladly put up at a far more comfortable inn than they had yet seen since they left Naples. Young Lennox took a stroll through the town, and declared he saw more beauty than he had ever seen in one evening before all his life. Indeed they had an excellent example of the famous beauty of the women of Avellino in the daughter of their host, a most perfect Italian beauty, who might have sat for the Madonna della Seggiola. Early next morning they breakfasted with all the travellers by the vettura, which had also rested there the first night. During the meal a good deal was said about the celebrated banditti that then haunted the Val di Bovino.[C] The most wondrous stories of the power and prowess of Luigi Vardarelli were freely conversed on, and Mr. Lennox began quite to wish himself at home again. His son professed to discredit them, and declared his feats must be grossly exaggerated. After their morning meal, a smart drive up the hilly but romantic road brought them to Dentecane; thence they drove to the Grotto Minarda, situate in the middle of cornfields, where they lunched, and then pa.s.sed on past Ariano, also celebrated for its female beauty, to Savignano, which they reached as the light began to decline, having loitered a good deal by the road. Here nothing but the name of Luigi filled every mouth, and the landlord, anxious to detain customers, a.s.sured them it was madness to think of pa.s.sing through the Val di Bovino that night, as they would certainly be attacked. Having no wish to come to close quarters with the desperados, Mr. Lennox and his daughter readily obliged their host by staying, and William was fain, much against his will, to rest there too. It was a miserable post house--one which is now totally disused,--but the Italian landlord did everything to try and make the evening pleasant, and his daughter, a fine, handsome young girl of twenty, was quite in William's way, and he talked his best Italian to her, whilst his father and sister listened to their host's tales of horror about the two Vardarelli, till they almost trembled with fear. Shortly after their dinner a horseman rode up to the inn, and, dismounting, said he would stay there for the night. Our host left his friends, and was busy introducing his new arrival to the remains of the table d'hote served up as new. The traveller, however, appeared exceedingly moderate in his tastes, and hardly touched anything. Mr. Lennox and Caroline could not help occasionally turning their eyes on the new guest; he was short and very slight in form, but his face was perfect; a slightly arched, finely chiselled nose, dark, piercing eyes, and well-made mouth, gave quite a poetic cast to his features, which his long black hair and melancholy countenance fully kept up. He seemed agitated and flushed, as if he had either met with some disaster, or was travelling at an unwonted speed.

Mr. Lennox, after he had seen his wants satisfied, with English bonhomie asked him if he would not join their table, and drink wine together?

After a little hesitation the invitation was accepted, the young man's melancholy quickly pa.s.sed away before the social gla.s.s, and he began laughing and talking like any of them. He seemed well-educated and connected, and by-and-by let out he was a Count Cesare, who lived near Foggia, knew the Wentworths well, and had just started from their villa at Foggia towards Naples. He said he had been chased by some of the notorious brigands nearly up to the inn yard, and that might account for his excited conduct when he first arrived. The ice being once broken, Mr. Lennox, like all Englishmen, told his new acquaintance his whole history in a couple of hours; how he was an intimate friend of Lord Wentworth; was then going to see him, and carrying valuable jewellery.

The Count praised his judgment in not proceeding further that night, advised him to place the jewellery in the trunk-box of his carriage, and not to carry it inside as he had been doing, and, above all, charged him not to trust the sbirri, who, he said, were usually confederate with the banditti, and even if not were worthless cowards. He said he could recommend two young men who were relatives of their host, who would accompany them next day through the valley into the Apulian plains as far as Pozzo d'Alberto; thence it was only ten miles to their destination. Mr. Lennox thanked his friend much, and willingly followed his advice. The two young men were introduced by their host, and looked well able to defend their charge, armed as they were with pistols and stilettos. Mr. Lennox also took pistols, and his son carried a sword, so they were well prepared at least, and the Count told them they would probably have no need of weapons, only prevention was better than cure.

Mutually pleased, they separated for their different apartments, bestowing their praises on the accommodation, Mr. Lennox to dream of the Earl's reception of him and his children, William of the fair Giulia with whom he had lost his heart, Caroline of brigands, and the Count, as he called himself, not to dream, but to think what a gull he had got hold of in Mr. Lennox! Count Cesare was in fact only a member of the Vardarelli's band, who had thus gleaned all the information he wanted for Luigi, and left two of his men to act the part of guardians. The landlord and his daughter Giulia were old hands at their trade, and would probably share their guest's plunder.