The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II

“No; I knew nothing of that. She told me all about the life you were leading; the great people with whom you were intimate; and bit by bit, a hint, some little allusion, would creep out as to the state of your heart. Perhaps she never meant it, or did not know it; but I remarked, in reading her letters over and over, – they were the solace of many a weary hour, – that one name recurred so often in connection with yours, you must have frequently referred to him yourself, for in each extract from your letters I saw the name.”

“This was strange. It must have been through inadvertence,” said she, musingly. “I thought I had scarcely spoken of him.”

“See how your hand told truth, even against your consciousness,” said he, smiling.

Kate made no reply, but sat deep in thought.

“And is he here? When shall I see him?” asked Frank, impatiently.

“No, Frank. He is in Italy; he was detained there by business of importance. Besides, it is not etiquette that we should travel together. When the Emperor’s permission has been obtained – ”

“What Emperor?” asked Frank, in astonishment.

“Our Emperor – the Czar.”

“What have you, an English girl born, to do with the Czar?”

“The Prince, my future husband, is his subject.”

“Why, there is no end to this mystification,” cried the boy, impatiently. “How can an English soldier be a Russian Prince?”

“I don’t understand you, Frank. Prince Midchekoff is a Russian by birth.”

“So that you are married to a Russian,” said he, in a voice of deep emotion, “and all this time I have been fancying my brother-in-law an Englishman. I thought it was this same George – George Onslow.”

A heavy, dull sound startled him as he said this. It was Kate, who had fallen back, fainting, on the sofa. It was long before, with all Frank’s efforts at restoration, she came to herself; and even when consciousness returned, tears flowed from her eyes and coursed down her cheeks copiously, as she lay speechless and motionless.

“My own poor Kate, my poor, dear sister!” were all that Frank could say, as he held her cold, clammy hand within his own; and, with an almost breaking heart, gazed on her pale features. It was so like death! “And might not death be better?” thought he, as he travelled over in his mind the story, of whose secret he was now possessed. How differently did he judge all Nelly’s counsels now! In what a changed spirit did he think of that wisdom which, but a few minutes back, he had sneered at! “And so it is,” muttered he. “If we who are born to humble fortunes would cherish ambition, we must pay for it with our hearts’ blood. Nelly was right; she often said so. Over and over again did she tell me, ‘goodness is the only safe road to greatness.’ Oh that one so beautiful as this should have missed the path!” And, sobbing violently, he kissed her hand, and watered it with his tears.

“Frank, you are with me, – you ‘ll not leave me,” said she, faintly, as she opened her eyes and stared in bewilderment around her. “I remember everything now – everything,” said she, with an emphasis on the last word. “This is Vienna: I recollect all. Ring that bell, Frank: let Nina come to me, but don’t go away; be sure not to go.”

Nina soon made her appearance, and with a look of half surprise, half admiration at the handsome soldier, assisted Kate to arise.

“I’ll be back presently, Frank,” said she, with a faint smile, and left the room. And the youth, overcome by emotion, sat down and buried his face in his hands.

CHAPTER VIII. PRIESTLY COUNSELS

Frank was so full of his own reflections that he almost forgot his sister’s absence; nor did he notice how the time went oyer, when he heard the sound of voices and the noise of a door closing; and, on looking up, perceived a handsome man, something short of middle-aged, who, dressed in the deep black of a priest, wore a species of blue silk collar, the mark of a religious order. His features were perfectly regular, and their expression the most bland and courteous it was possible to imagine. There was a serene dignity, too, in his gait, as he came forward, that showed how thoroughly at home he felt on the soft carpet, and in the perfumed atmosphere of a drawing-room.

Bowing twice to Frank, he saluted him with a smile, so gentle and so winning, that the boy almost felt as if they had been already acquainted.

“I have come,” said the priest, “to pay my respects to the Princesse de Midchekoff, and, if my eyesight is not playing me false, I have the honor to recognize her brother.”

Frank blushed with pleasure as he bowed an assent.

“May I anticipate the kindness – which your sister would not refuse me,” continued he, “and introduce myself. You may, perhaps, have heard of the Abbé D’Esmonde?”

“Repeatedly,” cried Frank, taking the proffered hand in his own. “Nelly spoke of you in almost every letter. You were always so kind to Kate in Italy.”

“How amply am I recompensed, were not the pleasure of knowing Miss Dalton a sufficient reward in itself. It is rare to find that combination of excellence which can command all the homage of fashion, and yet win the approbation of a poor priest.”

There was a humility, deep enough to be almost painful, in the tone in which these words were uttered; but Frank had little time to dwell on them, for already the Abbé had taken a seat on the sofa beside him, and was deep in the discussion of all Kate’s attractions and merits.

There was a sincerity, an ardor of admiration, chastened only by the temper of his sacred character, that delighted the boy. If allusion were made to her beauty, it was only to heighten the praise he bestowed on her for other gifts, and display the regulated action of a mind proof against every access of vanity. Her correct judgment, her intuitive refinement, the extreme delicacy of her sensibilities, – these were the themes he dwelt upon, and Frank felt that they must be rare gifts indeed, when the very description of them could be so pleasurable.

From what the Abbé said, so far from her marriage with the great Russian being a piece of fortune, she had but to choose her position amid the first houses of Europe.

“It was true,” he added, “that the ‘Midchekoff’s’ wealth was like royalty, and as he united to immense fortune great claims of personal merit, the alliance had everything to recommend it.”

“And this is so?” cried Frank, eagerly. “The Prince is a fine fellow?”

“Generous and munificent to an extent almost fabulous,” said D’Esmonde, who seemed rather to resume his own train of thought than reply to Frank’s question. “The splendor of his life has already canonized a proverb.”

“But his temper – his manner – his disposition?”

“Like all his countrymen, he is reserved, almost cold to strangers; his intimates, however, talk of him as frankness and candor itself. Even on political themes, where Russians are usually most guarded, he gives his opinions freely and manfully, and, strange enough too, with a liberality which, though common enough in our country, must be very rare indeed in his.”

“That is strange!” said Frank, thoughtfully.

“Yes,” said D’ Esmonde, dropping into the tone of one who insensibly poured out his inmost thoughts in soliloquizing, – “Yes, he feels, what we all do, that this state of things cannot last, – disparity of condition may become too palpable and too striking. The contrast between affluence and misery may display itself too offensively! Men may one day or other refuse to sign a renewal of the bond of servitude, and then – and then – ”

“A civil war, I suppose,” cried Frank, quietly; “but the troops will always give them a lesson.”

“Do you think so, my dear young friend?” said the Abbé, affectionately; “do you not rather think that soldiers will begin to learn that they are citizens, and that, when forging fetters for others, the metal can be fashioned into chains for themselves?”

“But they have an oath,” said the boy; “they ‘ve sworn to their allegiance.”

“Very true, so they have; but what is the oath? – the one half of the compact which cannot be supposed binding when the other half be broken. Let the social policy of a government fail in its great object, – the happiness of a people; let a whole nation gradually cease to enjoy the advantages for the sake of which they assumed the responsibilities and ties of family; let them day-by-day fall lower in the scale of civilization and comfort, and after surrendering this privilege to-day, and that to-morrow, at last take their stand on the very verge of the precipice, with nothing but abject slavery beneath, – what would you say of the order to charge them with the bayonet, even though the formality of a recruiting oath should seem to warrant the obedience?”

“I ‘d do it; if I was ordered,” said Frank, sternly.

“I don’t think you would,” said D’Esmonde, smiling. “I read your nature differently. I can trace, even in the flashing of your eye this instant, the ambition of a bold and energetic spirit, and that when the moment came you would embrace the losing cause, with all its perils, rather than stand by tyranny, in all its strength. Besides, remember, this is not the compact under which you entered the service, although it might, under certain peculiar circumstances, appeal to your sense of duty. An army is not – at least it ought not to be – a ‘gendarmerie.’ Go forth to battle against the enemies of your country, carry the flag of your Vaterland into the plains of France, plant the double eagle once more in the Place da Carrousel, – even aggressive war has its glorious compensations in deeds of chivalry and heroism – But here is the Princesse,” said the Abbé, rising, and advancing courteously towards her.

“The Abbé D’Esmonde!” cried Kate, with an expression of delight, as she held ont her hand, which the priest pressed to his lips with all the gallantry of a courtier. “How pleasant to see the face of a friend in this strange land!” said she. “Abbé, this is my brother Frank, of whom you have heard me talk so often.”

“We are acquaintances already,” said D’Esmonde, passing his arm within the soldier’s; “and albeit our coats are not of the same color, I think many of our principles are.”

A few moments saw him seated between the brother and sister on the sofa, recounting the circumstances of his journey, and detailing, for Kate’s amusement, the latest news of Florence.

“Lady Hester is much better in health and spirits, too,” said the Abbé; “the disastrous circumstances of fortune would seem to have taken a better turn; at least, it is probable that Sir Stafford’s losses will be comparatively slight. I believe her satisfaction on this head arises entirely from feeling that no imputation of altered position can now be alleged as the reason for her change of religion.”

“And has she done this?” asked Kate, with a degree of anxiety; for she well knew on what feeble grounds Lady Hester’s convictions were usually built..

“Not publicly; she waits for her arrival at Rome, to make her confession at the shrine of St. John of Lateran. Her doubts, however, have all been solved, – her reconciliation is perfect.”

“Is she happy? Has she found peace of mind at last?” asked Kate, timidly.

“On this point I can speak with confidence,” said D’Esmonde, warmly; and at once entered into a description of the pleasurable impulse a new train of thoughts and impressions had given to the exhausted energies of a “fine lady’s” life. It was so far true, indeed, that for some days back she had never known a moment of ennui. Surrounded by sacred emblems and a hundred devices of religious association, she appeared to herself as if acting a little poem of life, wherein a mass of amiable qualities, of which she knew nothing before, were all developing themselves before her. And what between meritorious charities, saintly intercessions, visits to shrines, and decorations of altars, she had not an instant unoccupied; it was one unceasing round of employment; and with prayers, bouquets, lamps, confessions, candles, and penances, the day was even too short for its duties.