A Love Story
that she may never know that worst of reflections--the having injured
one who had loved her, irremediably; that she may gaze on her
fair-haired children, and her cheek blanch not as she recals another
form than the father's; that her life may be irreproachable, her end
calm and dignified; that dutiful children may attend the inanimate clay
to its resting place; that filial tears may bedew her grave; and, when
the immortal stands appalled before its Judge, that the destruction of
that soul may not be laid to her charge.
Chapter XIV.
The Spitfire.
"And I have loved thee! Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne like thy bubbles onward."
* * * * *
"Pull away! yo ho! boys!"
Delmé continued to reside with his brother, whose health seemed to amend
daily. George generally managed to accompany him in his sight-seeing,
from which Henry derived great gratification.
He mused over the antique tombs of some of the departed knights; and
admired the rich mosaics in that splendid church, dedicated to Saint
John; than which the traveller may voyage long, and meet nothing
worthier his notice. He visited the ancient armoury--dined at the
palace, and at the different messes--inspected the laborious
travailings of the silkworm at the boschetto--conversed with the
original of Byron's Leila--a sweet creature she is!--looked with
wondering eye on the ostrich of Fort Manuel--and heard the then
commandant's wife relate her tale thereanent. He went to Gozzo too--shot
rabbits--and crossed in a basket to the fungus rock. He saw a festa in
the town, and a festa in the country--rode to St. Antonio, and St.
Paul's Bay--and was told he had seen the lions. Nor must we pass over
that most interesting of spectacles; viz., some figures enveloped in
monkish cowl, and placed in convenient niches; but beneath the close
hood, the blood mounts not with devotion's glow, nor do eyes glare from
sockets shrunk by abstinence. Skeletons alone are there!
These, curious reader, are the bodies of saintly Capuchins; thus
exhibited--dried and baked--to excite beholders to a life of virtue!
One morning, George said he felt rather unwell, and would stay at home.
An oar happened to be wanted in the regimental gig, which Sir Henry
offered to take. He was soon accoutred in the dress of an absent
member, and in a short time was discharging the duties of his office to
the satisfaction of all; for he knew every secret of _feathering,_ and
had not _caught a crab_ for years.
It was a beautifully calm day--not a speck in the azure heaven. It was
hot too--but for this they cared not. They had porter; and on such
occasions, what better beverage would you ask? Swiftly and gaily did the
slim bark cleave through the glassy sea. Its hue was a dark crimson,
with one black stripe--its nom de guerre, the Spitfire.
As the ------ regiment particularly prided itself on its aquatic costume,
we shall describe it. Small chased pearl buttons on the blue jacket and
white shirt; a black band round the neck, to match the one on the
narrow-brimmed thick straw hat; white trousers; couleur de rose silk
collar, fastened to the throat by a golden clasp; and stockings of the
same colour. How joyously did the gig hold her course! What a thrilling
sensation expanded the soul, as the steersman, a handsome little fellow
with large black whiskers, gave the encouraging word, "Stroke! my good
ones!" Then were exerted all the energies of the body--then was
developed each straining muscle--then were the arms thrown back in
sympathy, to give a long pull, and a strong pull--till the bark reeled
beneath them, and shot through the wave.
The tall ship--the slender mole--the busy deck--the porticoed
palace--the strong fort--the bristling battery--the astonished fisher's
bark as it sluggishly crept on--were all cheeringly swept by, as the
bending oars in perfect unison, kissed the erst slumbering water. What
sensation can be more glorious? The only thing to compete with it, is
the being in a crack coach on the western road; the opposition slightly
in front--a knowing whip driving--when the horses are at their utmost
speed--the traces tight as traces can be--the ladies inside pale and
screaming--one little child cramming out her head, her mouth stuffed
with Banbury cakes, adding her shrill affetuoso--whilst the odd-looking
man in the white hat, seated behind, is blue from terror, and with
chattering teeth, mumbles undistinguishable sentences of furious
driving and prosecution. Surely such moments half redeem our miseries!
What bitter thought can travel twelve miles an hour?
And ever and anon would the Spitfire dart into some little creek, and
the thirsty rowers would rest on their oars, whose light drip fell on
purple ocean, tinged by a purple sky. And now would the jovial steersman
introduce the accommodating corkscrew, first into one bottle and then
into another, as these were successively emptied, and thrown overboard,
to give the finny philosophers somewhat to speculate on.
Delmé landed weary; but it was a beneficial weariness. He felt he had
taken manly exercise, and that it would do him good. He was walking
towards the barrack, with his jacket slung over his shoulder, when he
was met by George's servant.
"Oh, Sir!" said the man, "I am so glad you are come. The Signora is
terribly afraid for my young master. I fear, Sir, he is in one of
his fits."
Delmé hurried forward, and entered his brother's room. George held a
riding whip in his hand. He had thrown off his cravat--his throat was
bare--his eyes glanced wildly.
"And who are you, Sir?" said he, as Henry entered.
"What! not know me, dearest George?" replied his brother, in agony.
"I do not understand your insolence, Sir; but if you are a dun, go to my
servant. Thompson," continued he, "give me my spurs! I shall ride."
"Ride!" said Delmé.
Thompson made him a quiet sign. "I am very sorry, Sir," said he, "but
the Arab is quite lame, and is not fit for the saddle."
"Give me a glass of sangaree then, you rascal! Port--do you hear?"
The glass was brought him. He drained its contents at a draught.
"Now, kick that scoundrel out of the room, Thompson, and let me sleep."
He threw himself listlessly on the sofa. Acmé was weeping bitterly,
but he seemed not to notice her. It was late in the day. The surgeon
had been sent for. He now arrived, and stated that nothing could be
done; but recommended his being watched closely, and the removing
all dangerous weapons. He begged Henry, however, to indulge him in
all his caprices, in order that he might the better observe the
state of his mind.
While George slept, Delmé entered another room, and ordering the servant
to inform him when he awoke, he sat down to dinner alone and dispirited;
for Acmé refused to leave George. It was indeed a sad, and to Sir Henry
Delmé an unforeseen shock.
In a couple of hours, Thompson came with a message from Acmé. "Master
is awake, Sir--knows the Signora--and seems much better. He has
desired me to brush his cloak, as he intends going out. Shall I do so,
Sir, or not?"
"Do so!" said Delmé, "but fail not to inform me when he is about to go;
and be yourself in readiness. We will watch him."
Chapter XV.
The Charnel House.
"And when at length the mind shall be all free,
From what it hates in this degraded form,
Reft of its carnal life, save what shall be
Existent happier in the fly or worm;
When elements to elements conform,
And dust is as it should be."
The last grey tinge of twilight, was fast giving place to the sombre
hues of night, as a figure, enveloped in a military cloak, issued from
the barrack at Floriana.
Henry at once recognised George; and only delaying till a short distance
had intervened between his brother and himself, Delmé and Thompson
followed his footsteps.
George Delmé walked swiftly, as if intent on some deep design. The long
shadow thrown out by his figure, enabled his pursuers to distinguish him
very clearly. He did not turn his head, but, with hurried step, strode
the species of common which divides Floriana from La Valette. Crossing
the drawbridge, and passing through the porch which guards the entrance
to the town, he turned down an obscure street, and, folding his cloak
closer around him, rapidly--yet with an appearance of caution--continued
his route, diving from one street to another, till he entered a small
court-yard, in which stood an isolated gloomy-looking house. No light
appeared in the windows, and its exterior bespoke it uninhabited. Henry
and the domestic paused, expecting George either to knock or return to
the street. He walked on, however, and, turning to one side of the
porch, descended a flight of stone steps, and entered the lower part of
the house.
"Perhaps we had better not both follow him," said the servant.
"No, Thompson! do you remain here, only taking care that your master
does not pass you: and I think you may as well go round the house, and
see if there is any other way of leaving it."
Sir Henry descended the steps in silence. Arrived at the foot of the
descent, a narrow passage, diverging to the left, presented itself.
Beyond appeared a distant glimmering of light. Delmé groped along the
passage, using the precaution to crouch as low as possible, until he
came before a large comfortless room in the centre of which, was placed
a brass lamp, whose light was what he had discerned at the extremity of
the passage. He could distinctly observe the furniture and inmates of
the room. Of the former, the only articles were a table--on which were
placed the remains of a homely meal--an iron bedstead, and a barrel,
turned upside down, which served as a substitute for a chair. The
bedstead had no curtains, but in lieu of them, there were hangings
around it, which struck Delmé as resembling mourning habiliments.
Whilst the light operated thus favourably, in enabling Sir Henry to
note the interior of the apartment, it was hardly possible, from its
situation, that he himself could be observed. Its rays did not reach
the passage; and he was also shrouded in some degree by a door, which
was off its hinges, and which was placed against the wall. Fastened to
the side of the room were two deep shelves--the lower one containing
some bottles and plates; the upper, a number of human sculls. In a
corner were some more of these, intermingled in a careless heap, with a
few bleached bones.
George Delmé was standing opposite the door, conversing earnestly with a
Maltese, evidently of the lowest caste. The latter was seated on the
barrel we have mentioned, and was listening with apparently a mixture of
surprise and exultation to what George was saying. George's voice sunk
to an inaudible whisper, as the conversation continued, and he was
evidently trying to remove some scruples, which this man either affected
to feel, or really felt. The man's answers were given in a gruff and
loud tone of voice, but from the Maltese dialect of his Italian, Sir
Henry could not understand what was said. His countenance was very
peculiar. It was of that derisive character rarely met with in one of
his class of life, except when called forth by peculiar habits, or
extraordinary circumstances. His eyes were very small, but bright and
deeply set. His lips wore a constant sarcastic smile, which gave him the
air of a bold but cunning man. His throat and bosom were bare, and of a
deep copper colour; and his muscular chest was covered with short curly
hair. The conversation on George's part became more animated, and he at
length made use of what seemed an unanswerable argument. Taking out a
beaded purse, which Sir Henry knew well--it had been Emily's last