CHAPTER I.
_Containing the Appearance on Our Stage of a New and Important Character_.
THE Marquis of Montfort was the grandson of that nobleman who had beenGlastonbury's earliest patron. The old duke had been dead some years;his son had succeeded to his title, and Digby, that youth whom thereader may recollect was about the same age as Ferdinand Armine, and washis companion during the happy week in London which preceded his firstmilitary visit to the Mediterranean, now bore the second title of thefamily.
The young marquis was an excellent specimen of a class inferior intalents, intelligence, and accomplishments, in public spirit andin private virtues, to none in the world, the English nobility. Hiscomplete education had been carefully conducted; and although hisreligious creed, for it will be remembered he was a Catholic, haddeprived him of the advantage of matriculating at an English university,the zeal of an able and learned tutor, and the resources of a GermanAlma Mater, had afforded every opportunity for the development of hisconsiderable talents. Nature had lavished upon him other gifts besideshis distinguished intelligence and his amiable temper: his personalbeauty was remarkable, and his natural grace was not less evident thanhis many acquired accomplishments.
On quitting the University of Bonn, Lord Montfort had passed severalyears on the continent of Europe, and had visited and resided at most ofits courts and capitals, an admired and cherished guest; for, debarredat the period of our story from occupying the seat of his ancestors inthe senate, his native country offered no very urgent claims upon hispresence. He had ultimately fixed upon Rome as his principal residence,for he was devoted to the arts, and in his palace were collected some ofthe rarest specimens of ancient and modern invention.
At Pisa, Lord Montfort had made the acquaintance of Mr. Temple, who wasresiding in that city for the benefit of his daughter's health, who, itwas feared by her physicians, was in a decline. I say the acquaintanceof Mr. Temple; for Lord Montfort was aware of the existence of hisdaughter only by the occasional mention of her name, as Miss Temple wasnever seen. The agreeable manners, varied information, and accomplishedmind of Mr. Temple, had attracted and won the attention of the youngnobleman, who shrank in general from the travelling English, and alltheir arrogant ignorance. Mr. Temple was in turn equally pleased witha companion alike refined, amiable, and enlightened; and theiracquaintance would have ripened into intimacy, had not the illnessof Henrietta and her repugnance to see a third person, and theunwillingness of her father that she should be alone, offered in somedegree a bar to its cultivation.
Yet Henrietta was glad that her father had found a friend and wasamused, and impressed upon him not to think of her, but to accept LordMontfort's invitations to his villa. But Mr. Temple invariably declinedthem.
'I am always uneasy when I am away from you, dearest,' said Mr. Temple;'I wish you would go about a little. Believe me, it is not for myselfthat I make the suggestion, but I am sure you would derive benefit fromthe exertion. I wish you would go with me and see Lord Montfort's villa.There would be no one there but himself. He would not in the least annoyyou, he is so quiet; and he and I could stroll about and look at thebusts and talk to each other. You would hardly know he was present, heis such a very quiet person.'
Henrietta shook her head; and Mr. Temple could not urge the request.
Fate, however, had decided that Lord Montfort and Henrietta Templeshould become acquainted. She had more than once expressed a wish tosee the Campo Santo; it was almost the only wish that she had expressedsince she left England. Her father, pleased to find that anything couldinterest her, was in the habit of reminding her of this desire, andsuggesting that she should gratify it. But there was ever an excuse forprocrastination. When the hour of exertion came, she would say, with afaint smile, 'Not to-day, dearest papa;' and then, arranging her shawl,as if even in this soft clime she shivered, composed herself upon thatsofa which now she scarcely ever quitted.
And this was Henrietta Temple! That gay and glorious being, so full ofgraceful power and beautiful energy, that seemed born for a throne,and to command a nation of adoring subjects! What are those politicalrevolutions, whose strange and mighty vicissitudes we are ever dilatingon, compared with the moral mutations that are passing daily under ourown eye; uprooting the hearts of families, shattering to piecesdomestic circles, scattering to the winds the plans and prospects of ageneration, and blasting as with a mildew the ripening harvest of longcherished affection!
'It is here that I would be buried,' said Henrietta Temple.
They were standing, the father and the daughter, in the Campo Santo. Shehad been gayer that morning; her father had seized a happy moment, andshe had gone forth, to visit the dead.
That vast and cloistered cemetery was silent and undisturbed; not ahuman being was there, save themselves and the keeper. The sun shonebrightly on the austere and ancient frescoes, and Henrietta stoodopposite that beautiful sarcophagus, that seemed prepared and fitting toreceive her destined ashes.
'It is here that I would be buried,' said she.
Her father almost unconsciously turned his head to gaze upon thecountenance of his daughter, to see if there were indeed reason that sheshould talk of death. That countenance was changed since the momentwe first feebly attempted to picture it. That flashing eye had lostsomething of its brilliancy, that superb form something of its roundnessand its stag-like state; the crimson glory of that mantling cheek hadfaded like the fading eve; and yet it might be thought, it might besuffering, perhaps, the anticipation of approaching death, and as itwere the imaginary contact with a serener existence, but certainly therewas a more spiritual expression diffused over the whole appearance ofHenrietta Temple, and which by many might be preferred even to that morelively and glowing beauty which, in her happier hours, made her the veryqueen of flowers and sunshine.
'It is strange, dear papa,' she continued, 'that my first visit shouldbe to a cemetery.'
At this moment their attention was attracted by the sound of the distantgates of the cemetery opening, and several persons soon entered. Thisparty consisted of some of the authorities of the city and some porters,bearing on a slab of verd antique a magnificent cinerary vase, that wasabout to be placed in the Campo. In reply to his enquiries, Mr. Templelearned that the vase had been recently excavated in Catania, and thatit had been purchased and presented to the Campo by the Marquis ofMontfort. Henrietta would have hurried her father away, but with all herhaste they had not reached the gates before Lord Montfort appeared.
Mr. Temple found it impossible, although Henrietta pressed his arm intoken of disapprobation, not to present Lord Montfort to his daughter.He then admired his lordship's urn, and then his lordship requested thathe might have the pleasure of showing it to them himself. They turned;Lord Montfort explained to them its rarity, and pointed out to themits beauty. His voice was soft and low, his manner simple but ratherreserved. While he paid that deference to Henrietta which her sexdemanded, he addressed himself chiefly to her father. She was not halfso much annoyed as she had imagined; she agreed with her father thathe was a very quiet man; she was even a little interested by hisconversation, which was refined and elegant; and she was pleased thathe did not seem to require her to play any part in the discourse, butappeared quite content in being her father's friend. Lord Montfortseemed to be attached to her father, and to appreciate him. And this wasalways a recommendation to Henrietta Temple.
The cinerary urn led to a little controversy between Mr. Temple and hisfriend; and Lord Montfort wished that Mr. Temple would some day call onhim at his house in the Lung' Arno, and he would show him some specimenswhich he thought might influence his opinion. 'I hardly dare to ask youto come now,' said his lordship, looking at Miss Temple; 'and yet MissTemple might like to rest.'
It was evident to Henrietta that her father would be pleased to go, andyet that he was about to refuse for her sake. She could not bear that heshould be deprived of so much and such refined amusement, and be doomedto an uninteresting morning
at home, merely to gratify her humour. Shetried to speak, but could not at first command her voice; at lengthshe expressed her wish that Mr. Temple should avail himself of theinvitation. Lord Montfort bowed lowly, Mr. Temple seemed gratified, andthey all turned together and quitted the cemetery.
As they walked along to the house, conversation did not flag. LordMontfort expressed his admiration of Pisa. 'Silence and art are twogreat charms,' said his lordship.
At length they arrived at his palace. A venerable Italian receivedthem. They passed through a vast hall, in which were statues, ascendeda magnificent double staircase, and entered a range of saloons. One ofthem was furnished with more attention to comfort than an Italian caresfor, and herein was the cabinet of urns and vases his lordship hadmentioned.
'This is little more than a barrack,' said Lord Montfort; 'but I canfind a sofa for Miss Temple.' So saying, he arranged with great care thecushions of the couch, and, when she seated herself, placed a footstoolnear her. 'I wish you would allow me some day to welcome you at Rome,'said the young marquis. 'It is there that I indeed reside.'
Lord Montfort and Mr. Temple examined the contents of the cabinet. Therewas one vase which Mr. Temple greatly admired for the elegance of itsform. His host immediately brought it and placed it on a small pedestalnear Miss Temple. Yet he scarcely addressed himself to her, andHenrietta experienced none of that troublesome attention from which, inthe present state of her health and mind, she shrank. While Mr. Templewas interested with his pursuit, Lord Montfort went to a small cabinetopposite, and brought forth a curious casket of antique gems. 'Perhaps,'he said, placing it by Miss Temple, 'the contents of this casket mightamuse you;' and he walked away to her father.
In the course of an hour a servant brought in some fruits and wine.
'The grapes are from my villa,' said Lord Montfort. 'I ventured to orderthem, because I have heard their salutary effects have been marvellous.Besides, at this season, even in Italy they are rare. At least youcannot accuse me of prescribing a disagreeable remedy,' he added with aslight smile, as he handed a plate to Miss Temple. She moved to receivethem. Her cushions slipped from behind her, Lord Montfort immediatelyarranged them with skill and care. He was so kind that she really wishedto thank him; but before she could utter a word he was again conversingwith her father.
At length Mr. Temple indicated his intention to retire, and spoke to hisdaughter.
'This has been a great exertion for you, Henrietta,' he said; 'this hasindeed been a busy day.'
'I am not wearied; and we have been much pleased.' It was the firmesttone in which she had spoken for a long time. There was something inher manner which recalled to Mr. Temple her vanished animation. Theaffectionate father looked for a moment happy. The sweet music of thesesimple words dwelt on his ear.
He went forward and assisted Henrietta to rise. She closed the casketwith care, and delivered it herself to her considerate host. Mr. Templebade him adieu; Henrietta bowed, and nearly extended her hand. LordMontfort attended them to the gate; a carriage was waiting there.
'Ah! we have kept your lordship at home,' said Mr. Temple.
'I took the liberty of ordering the carriage for Miss Temple,' hereplied. 'I feel a little responsible for her kind exertion to-day.'