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

At last a letter came from Lady Hester; and although not a long one, it called up thoughts that all her endeavors could not efface from recollection. There were, once again, all the old familiar names with which she used to be so conversant.

Lady Hester, however, was much changed: all the capricious irritability of the fine lady had given place to a kind of importunate piety. She had grown “devote,” and her life a string of religious observances. After dwelling complacently on the self-imposed round of her mortifications and penances, she went on: —

“D’Esmonde has just returned, and delights me by saying that you are quite free from any contagion as to the errors of the Greek Church. Of course, outwardly, you must conform; even if Midchekoff did not insist, his countrymen would; but he says that St. Ursula is the sure resource in such cases, and mentions the instance of a nun who took lessons in Spanish from the Devil, and, by the aid of the blessed Ursula, was nothing the worse. “I told Jekyl, who left this on Friday, to send me an image of St. Ursula, that I might forward it to you; but the careless wretch has sent me a statuette of Fanny Elssler by mistake. He discovered his error, however, and has written me a most humble letter, mentioning, by the way, that he was doing a ‘Novena’ for penance, and danced the polka all the preceding night with a sharp peg in the sole of his foot. With all his oddity, there is a great deal to like in him. “I have only once heard from the Onslows; their conduct has been too shocking; they are not ruined at all, but got up the story, I verily believe, just to destroy my nerves. Sir S. is living in Ireland, at that place with the horrid name your father used to talk of, with Sydney; and George has gone to India, a major, I think, in some cavalry regiment. At Grounsell’s kind suggestion, I have been cut off with a miserable allowance of fifteen hundred a year; but even with this I am content. St. Brigitta, of Cleves, lived on hard peas, and never wore anything but an old sack for the last seventeen years of her life; and Célestine has got a charming pattern of a capote, à la Cistercine, which, when made of white cashmere, will be perfectly simple and very becoming. I wear my hair now always in bands, and very low on the face. D’Esmonde says I ‘m the image of the Madonna of Domenichino, which you may remember, I always preferred to Raphael’s. “Cardinal Bruschetti has been spending a few days here, and I cannot tell you the charm I have felt in his society, contrasted with the frivolous dissipation I have been used to. He is so suave, and so gentle, so persuasive, without importunity, and so conciliating withal. Not the least austerity about him; but at times actually gay! He quite approves of my having kept Fripponi as my cook. ‘A change of cuisine,’ said he, ‘involves a change of digestion, a change of temperament, and a moral change;’ alterations far too important to be incurred at once. This is so far pleasant as certainly the man is an admirable artist. His Eminence said yesterday that the salmi of ortolans was a dish fit for the Pope. We drive out, or row, every day, on the lake, and I shall be quite lonely when he leaves this. I am curious to know if you remember a bust of him in the Vatican. He was, and indeed is, a remarkably handsome man; and his leg has been modelled I can’t say how often. He asks me to whom I am writing, and begs you will remember him in your prayers, how touchingly simple, is it not? “I ventured last night on a bit of importunity, and asked his Eminence a favor. That poor dear Jekyl, you know, is miserably off. His family, all so wealthy, he says, only allow him a few hundreds a year; and with his generous habits and wastefulness this must be actual want. Well, I asked the Cardinal if there might not be some way of sending him out as a missionary – like St. Vincent de Paul. I ‘m certain he ‘d not like the dress nor the bare feet, but he ‘d be so happy with those charming Tonga islanders, who, such is their zeal, that they actually give four and five scalps for a wax image of the Virgin. His Eminence hinted that there might be difficulties, and he’d think of it I “Your Prince passed through here on Tuesday, on his way to Naples; he wants to see ‘La Giovina’ dance in that new ballet of ‘Paradiso.’ They say she is perfectly lovely. The Prince asked after you, and said something about its not being etiquette for him to write to you, or that you should write first, or, I really forget what; you know the slurring way he has of talking, and how he walks away before he has finished. He’s worse than ever, I think, or probably it is I that have less patience with him now since you are gone! “Jekyl told me – in strict confidence, remember – that M. did not stand well with his Court, and that there would be nothing wonderful in the Czar’s refusing his leave for the marriage. What you ought to do in that case I cannot conceive; a convent, I suppose, would be the only thing. After all, it might probably have been as well if you had taken poor George. The estate is still a good one, and he has some amiable points in his character, and he certainly loved you. I never told you the thousand confessions he made me, nor his entreaties for my intercession, but there is no harm now in letting you hear them. It is, however, impossible to say with whom one could live happily! George begged of me to send him every letter you wrote to me, and of course you can use the knowledge of the fact at your discretion. “Now, for two little commissions, my dear Kate, and I have done. I want you to get me a case of Tokay from the Teleki estate – mind, not Pain’s, which, his Eminence says, wants the oily flavor. Some of the archdukes will manage this for you. I ‘m certain your long eyelashes have got further than this already. The second is to send me a haunch of Bohemian venison, – Schwartenschild’s, if possible. The Cardinal says that fat is become as scarce as true piety, and that a well- fed buck is as rare as a good Christian! “Are they wearing their corsages pointed at the back? – not that I care, dearest, for I am above such vanities, but Célestine wishes to know. When you receive the St. Ursula, keep her in your own room, and with her face to the west; and so good-by, and, with many prayers, believe me, “Affectionately yours, “THEODOSIA, “Late Hester Onslow. “Could you, by any chance, send me a good miniature of yourself? – perhaps you guess for what purpose. Haselquist’s oil picture is too large for what I want; and, besides, is really not like you. Even with all its imperfections his Eminence sits looking at it for hours of an evening, and says he can scarcely fancy anything lovelier. I do not ask after Madame de H., for I hate the woman. His Eminence has told me such things of her! But of course you can only make the best of it for the present, and get on as well as you can. “D’Esmonde tells me that Frank is a fine boy, and very good- looking, but fearfully dissipated, but I suppose the service is like the Life Guards with us – and what can one expect? À propos to this, Norwood has written to me twice some inexplicable nonsense about you, which I have not replied to. What does he mean by ‘treating a flirt like a flounce’ Jekyl says that the police have stopped his passport, or he should have been after you to Vienna. This is quite unintelligible to me, and I don’t know why I repeat it.”

Never did a frivolous letter give more serious thought, nor bring gloomier reflections, than did this epistle to Kate Dalton. Her mind dwelt far less on the paragraph which concerned her own future than on that which spoke of George, – his devoted affection and his enduring sorrow! And so it was true that he loved her! He had even confided the avowal to another, and asked for aid and counsel. Why had he then concealed it from herself? Was the fault hers? Had her own conduct been the reason? Had her encouragement of any other estranged him, or was the teaching of the society in which she moved the reason? Poor fellow! how unfairly had she treated him, – even to that very last incident of their last meeting! – and now they were to meet no more! No, death itself could not more effectually separate them than did space and destiny. Even this she felt to be better, far better, than the chances of renewed intimacy in the world. Lady Hester had not told her why she had never divulged her secret; still less to what end she revealed it now, when the knowledge must be only misery. The mention of Norwood, and the vague half-threat connected with his name, gave her but little uneasiness, since her mind had but space for one absorbing thought, – George loved her! There was the sum of every reflection; and all the world around her, in its splendor or its brilliancy, the tortuous paths of political intrigue, the quiet byways of home-affection, the present and the future, were all as nothing when weighed against this one thought.

If her first impression had been to blame Lady Hester for revealing the secret, her second was to thank her with her whole heart. She remembered D’Esmonde, too, and the reasonings by which he accompanied the delivery of the letter; and she felt that this consciousness was a blessing of which no vicissitude could rob her, – that come what might of disappointment or sorrow in life, here, at least, in her heart of hearts, was one hoarded treasure to compensate for all. If there were but one to whom she could confide her secret, with whom she could talk over her sorrow, she thought that she would be contented. To Nelly she dared not; to Frank she could not speak of it; what, then, of Nina? Alas! it was no longer a secret to her! Nina had seen the picture, and although nothing in her manner betrayed the slightest consciousness, Kate knew her too well not to feel herself in her power.

Nina’s demeanor, however, exhibited nothing of insolent triumph; on the contrary, her manner was gentle, even to submissiveness, and something almost affectionate seemed to mingle with the feeling in which she fulfilled her duties. Kate remarked this, and only needed the courage to take advantage of it At first the very idea of Nina’s consciousness was torture; but day by day this terror grew weaker, till at last she actually wished that the moment of explanation was over, and that she could pour out all her griefs before her. “She may have loved unhappily, herself; and if so, will pity me. In any case, a frank avowal on my part will show that I knew nothing of his heart, and but little of my own, till ‘too late.’ We are never to meet again,” and so-and-so; in fact, with many a casuistry, she satisfied herself that mere memory could never be a sin, – that there could be nothing very wrong in looking back as often as the future seemed lowering and gloomy. It is hard to say if there might not have been some leaven of “pique” in these reasonings. The Prince, according to Lady Hester, if he had not entirely forgotten, was already indifferent about her. Some uncertainty of ceremonial prevented his writing or hearing from her; and at this very moment he was following out the ordinary life of dissipation which he led before. Why care for him, – why even endeavor to nourish an affection that must be blighted in the end? Besides, her marriage was never one of inclination; Lady Hester had been most frank in explaining the Prince’s appreciation of it As to her own reasons for the step, she knew them too well.

All that Kate had seen of life in her Florence experiences told her that such cases were the ordinary events of the world. Few were happily married, – disparity of age, inequality of condition, incompatible tempers, and a hundred other causes were ever at work. Lady Hester used to tell her that nobody was ever satisfied with their “married lot: the good and right-minded only pined under it; the less scrupulous proclaimed their dissatisfaction to the world, and asked for sympathy.” These were the two categories that comprehended all her theory. Now Kate was quite resolved to be one of the former class; but she saw no reason why she ought not to have one “confidante” of her cares.

With all the force of these persuasions she could not get over the awkwardness of the confession, and would have given worlds that Nina herself would take the first step. That simple-minded creature, however, appeared dead to every hint or suggestion, – she could never see the drift of any remark, save in its most obvious sense, and actually pushed Kate’s temper to the last entrenchment of patience by pure stupidity. “Is it possible – can it be that I am deceived – that she has not recognized the miniature?” thought Kate. “Is my secret still in my own keeping?”

As this thought struck her, everything appeared to confirm it, – the girl’s manner, devoid of every trait of imperiousness, and actually humble to servility. “Oh, if I could but be sure of this, – if I could know that I could bury both my shame and my sorrow together!” In this vacillating state of suspense – one day all hope and confidence, the next, terror and dread – she lived on, till the period drew nigh for their departure from Vienna.

Madame de Heidendorf had delayed beyond her intention, in the hope of receiving some French news; and Kate eagerly watched the post for some tidings from home, – for home it still was, in every feeling of her heart

“No letters again, Nina?” said she, despondingly, as the maid entered the room.

“None, Madame.”

“Have your friends forgotten you, Nina, as well as mine appear to have done?”

“Nina has but few friends, Madame; and still fewer would think of writing to her!”

“Poor Nina!” said Kate, affectionately; and the blood rushed to the girl’s face at the words, and her eyes flashed with an expression of sudden passion.

“No pity, Madame, – no pity!” cried she, with a voice full of emotion, “or I may forget myself, – forget myself and you also!” And with these words she hurried from the room, without waiting for more. Kate sat shocked and abashed by the girl’s violence, and yet neither daring to reprove her nor even remonstrate with her. What abject slavery was this to feel! How mean did she seem to her own heart! What rottenness was within that gilded splendor by which she was surrounded! Where was the ambitious envy with which she once looked up to the rich and powerful now? Where that intense desire to be among the great and the titled? and with whom would she not have changed conditions, even to Nina herself?

It is not weak of heart and low of courage that one should face the great journey of life. Its trials and crosses, even to the most fortunate, demand all that we can summon of hope and of energy. And yet so was it that she was about to begin the road – the long and dreary road – before her! As she sat thus musing, a great noise was heard from the street without. She arose and opened the window. The whole Platz was crammed with people, eagerly talking and gesticulating. A surging, waving motion, too, seemed to sway them, and at length she could detect that they were slowly proceeding onward towards the gate of the city. The deep roll of a drum then turned her attention, and, in the far distance, she saw the glancing bayonets of an infantry column as they advanced.

Military spectacles are of too frequent recurrence in Vienna to create much surprise or excitement; and yet, evidently, from the looks and gestures of the people, they were both present here. The band of a regiment struck up the national hymn of Austria; and as the proud notes swelled into the air, a dark body of Tyrolese Jâgers poured into the Platz. Still there was no enthusiasm of the people. They listened to the loyal sounds in cold apathy. To the Tyrolese succeeded a Grenadier battalion, after which came a long dense column of infantry of the line, their knapsacks on their backs, and their bread rations strapped above them. Behind these was the artillery, the long-tailed black horses giving a solemn look to the procession, as its clanking sounds fell mournfully on the ear. From the wide Platz they now moved on, and passing out of the Körtner gate, defiled into the “Glacis.” But a moment before and that immense space was empty; and now, from every avenue of the city, troops came pouring in like rivers to the sea. The black-plumed hunters from Tyrol, the gigantic Croat Grenadiers, the swarthy Bohemian Cuirassiers, and the white-cloaked dragoons of Austria, – all were seen advancing and forming as if in battle array. While Kate’s eye ranged eagerly over the field in search of the blue uniform of the Hungarians, Madame de Heidendorf entered the room with an open letter in her hand.

“What can this mean?” asked Kate, anxiously. “It is surely not a mere review?”

“Far from it, Madame,” said the Countess, imposingly. “The great drama is about to begin. News has come that Italy is in open revolt, and fresh troops are to be despatched thither with all speed. Twelve thousand are to march today, eight more to-morrow.”

“And Frank – ”

She stopped, abashed by the disdainful expression of Madame de Heidendorf s face.

“Your brother’s regiment, Madame, will form part of the force, and he will, of course, contribute the importance of his presence. How happily constituted must be the mind that can turn from the grand theme of a whole nation’s destiny to the petty fortunes of a corporal or a sous-lieutenant!”

“And yet so it is,” replied Kate, boldly; “dear Frank is nearer to my heart than all that I see yonder. Oh, yes, Madame,” cried she, replying to the glance of scorn the Countess bestowed, “it is quite true. Mine is an ignoble spirit. My affections are linked with lowly objects; would that my ambitions had never risen above them!”

What reply Madame de Heidendorf might have given to this speech, so much more daring than she had uttered before, there is no knowing, when Frank burst into the room, and clasped his sister in his arms.

“I have but a moment, Kate, and we are off – off to Italy;” and then, seeing the Countess, the boy bowed courteously, and apologized for his abrupt entrance. “Count Stephen has got the command, and placed me on his staff.”

“I hope you may merit this proof of his confidence, sir,” said Madame de Heidendorf, haughtily.

“Frank will be a brave soldier, Madame,” broke in Kate. “He is a Dalton.”

“He must be true as well as brave. Fidelity is needed now as much as valor.”

“And who will dare to question mine?” cried Frank; and then, as if impatient that he should have been led away from a dearer theme, he placed his arm within Kate’s, and drew her towards the window. “I had so much to say to you, my dearest sister. I have been thinking of nothing but you – and – and – what you told me. I would break off this match – it is not too late – you are only betrothed.”

“Oh, no, no, Frank; do not give me such counsels. I am pledged in word and bound in honor. I have taken a solemn vow.”

“But you have been deceived, – I know you have; enough that I see such a woman as that your companion. I tell you again, you must break it off.”

“I cannot, – I cannot!”

“Then, by Heaven! I will do it myself. It surely is not for all the glitter of this state and pomp that you would sell your affections? These gauds have not corrupted you already? No, no, I read you better than that Listen to my plan, then, – do not leave this till you hear from me. If this lady – I do not know her name – insists on your departure, be as peremptory, and say that you wish to see your family first. You are not a slave, and cannot be coerced.”

“I will hear no more of this, Frank; the very thought is maddening. No, no, Frank; if you would be my friend, teach me how to fulfil my duty, my sworn, pledged allegiance; do not seek to shake my faith, nor make me less resolute in honor.”

“It is, then, as I feared,” cried he, passionately; “these cursed bribes have bought you. Oh, it is not thus Nelly would have been won!”

“I know it, – I know it well!” cried she, bursting into tears; “but I never was like her.”

“But you were, and you are, dearest,” said he, kissing her forehead, “our own sweet Kate, that we were all so proud of. Oh, forgive me if I said what could hurt you, for I would pour out my heart’s blood to serve or to save you.”

There was a mournful emphasis on the last two words, which bespoke their deep meaning; and now, locked in each other’s arms, they wept bitterly.

“As the Field-Marshal von Auersberg has just ridden into the palace, his aide-de-camp ought probably to dry his tears and receive him,” said Madame de Heidendorf, as she sailed proudly out of the room.

“You heard that, Kate? – you heard what she said to me? Think, then, what kindness and sympathy she will feel for you!” said the boy, as he dashed his hand indignantly against his forehead. “Was I not right about these Russians?”

“Come, Frank, let us go to Uncle Stephen,” said Kate, trying to smile and seem at ease; and hand-in-hand they descended the stairs together.

The drawing-room into which they now entered was filled with officers of different arms of the service, among whom Count Dalton stood conspicuous, both from his size and the soldierlike character of a figure that not even old age seemed able to impair.

“How provoking, my sweet niece,” said he, taking Kate’s hand between both his, “now to part, just as I was learning the happiness of knowing you. Here are all these gentlemen grumbling and complaining about leaving their homes and families, and yet I ‘ll wager there is not one amongst them carries away a heavier heart than I do. Come into this room, my dear; let us have five minutes together.” And Kate took his arm, while he led her forward. Madame de Heidendorf, meanwhile, seated herself on a sofa, and summoned the most distinguished officers of the party to inform her as to all that was going forward.

It was one of her favorite affectations to be deeply versed in military tactics; not that she acknowledged herself deficient in any art or science, but soldiering was her strong point. She therefore questioned and cross-questioned these unhappy gentlemen at great length.

“You have no mortars? Do I hear you aright. Colonel Rabowsky? No mortars?”

“None, Madame.”

“And how, may I ask, do you mean to reduce Milan to ashes?”

This was a very puzzling question; and she repeated it in a still more commanding tone.

“Perhaps that may not be deemed desirable, Madame,” modestly insinuated another officer.