Henrietta Temple: A Love Story
with Spanish chestnuts and olive trees, from which there was apparently
no outlet. A soft breeze, which it was evident had passed over the wild
flowers of the mountains, refreshed and charmed their senses.
‘Could you believe we were only two hours’ drive from a city?’ said Lord
Montfort.
‘Indeed,’ said Henrietta, ‘if there be peace in this world, one would
think that the dweller in that beautiful villa enjoyed it.’
‘He has little to disturb him,’ said Lord Montfort: ‘thanks to his
destiny and his temper.’
‘I believe we make our miseries,’ said Henrietta, with a sigh. ‘After
all, nature always offers us consolation. But who lives here?’
‘I sometimes steal to this spot,’ replied his lordship.
‘Oh! this, then, is your villa? Ah! you have surprised us!’
‘I only aimed to amuse you.’
‘You are very kind, Lord Montfort,’ said Mr. Temple; ‘and we owe you
much.’
They stopped, they ascended the terrace, they entered the villa. A few
rooms only were furnished, but their appearance indicated the taste and
pursuits of its occupier. Busts and books were scattered about; a table
was covered with the implements of art; and the principal apartment
opened into an English garden.
‘This is one of my native tastes,’ said Lord Montfort, ‘that will, I
think, never desert me.’
The memory of Henrietta was recalled to the flowers of Ducie and of
Armine. Amid all the sweets and sunshine she looked sad. She walked away
from her companions; she seated herself on the terrace; her eyes were
suffused with tears. Lord Montfort took the arm of Mr. Temple, and led
him away to a bust of Germanicus.
‘Let me show it to Henrietta,’ said Mr. Temple; ‘I must fetch her.’
Lord Montfort laid his hand gently on his companion. The emotion of
Henrietta had not escaped his quick eye.
‘Miss Temple has made a great exertion,’ he said. ‘Do not think me
pedantic, but I am something of a physician. I have long perceived
that, although Miss Temple should be amused, she must sometimes be left
alone.’
Mr. Temple looked at his companion, but the countenance of Lord Montfort
was inscrutable. His lordship offered him a medal and then opened a
portfolio of Marc Antonios.
‘These are very rare,’ said Lord Montfort; ‘I bring them into the
country with me, for really at Rome there is no time to study them.
By-the-bye, I have a plan,’ continued his lordship, in a somewhat
hesitating tone; ‘I wish I could induce you and Miss Temple to visit me
at Rome.’
Mr. Temple shrugged his shoulders, and sighed.
‘I feel confident that a residence at Rome would benefit Miss Temple,’
said his lordship, in a voice a little less calm than usual. ‘There is
much to see, and I would take care that she should see it in a manner
which would not exhaust her. It is the most delightful climate, too, at
this period. The sun shines here to-day, but the air of these hills at
this season is sometimes treacherous. A calm life, with a variety of
objects, is what she requires. Pisa is calm, but for her it is too dull.
Believe me, there is something in the blended refinement and interest
of Rome that she would find exceedingly beneficial. She would see no one
but ourselves; society shall be at her command if she desire it.’
‘My dear lord,’ said Mr. Temple, ‘I thank you from the bottom of my
heart for all your considerate sympathy; but I cannot flatter myself
that Henrietta could avail herself of your really friendly offer. My
daughter is a great invalid. She------’
But here Miss Temple joined them.
‘We have a relic of a delicate temple here,’ said Lord Montfort,
directing her gaze to another window. ‘You see it now to advantage;
the columns glitter in the sun. There, perhaps, was worshipped some
wood-nymph, or some river-god.’
The first classic ruin that she had yet beheld attracted the attention
of Miss Temple. It was not far, and she acceded to the proposition
of Lord Montfort to visit it. That little ramble was delightful. The
novelty and the beauty of the object greatly interested her. It was
charming also to view it under the auspices of a guide so full of
information and feeling.
‘Ah!’ said Lord Montfort, ‘if I might only be your cicerone at Rome!’
‘What say you, Henrietta?’ said Mr. Temple, with a smile. ‘Shall we go
to Rome?’
The proposition did not alarm Miss Temple as much as her father
anticipated. Lord Montfort pressed the suggestion with delicacy; he
hinted at some expedients by which the journey might be rendered not
very laborious. But as she did not reply, his lordship did not press the
subject; sufficiently pleased, perhaps, that she had not met it with an
immediate and decided negative.
When they returned to the villa they found a collation prepared for them
worthy of so elegant an abode. In his capacity of a host, Lord Montfort
departed a little from that placid and even constrained demeanour which
generally characterised him. His manner was gay and flowing; and he
poured out a goblet of Monte Pulciano and presented it to Miss Temple.
‘You must pour a libation,’ he said, ‘to the nymph of the fane.’
CHAPTER IV.
_Showing That It Is the First Step That Is Ever the Most
Difficult_.
ABOUT a week after this visit to the villa, Mr. Temple and his daughter
were absolutely induced to accompany Lord Montfort to Rome. It is
impossible to do justice to the tender solicitude with which he made
all the arrangements for the journey. Wherever they halted they found
preparations for their reception; and so admirably had everything been
concerted, that Miss Temple at length found herself in the Eternal City
with almost as little fatigue as she had reached the Tuscan villa.
The palace of Lord Montfort was in the most distinguished quarter of the
city, and situate in the midst of vast gardens full of walls of laurel,
arches of ilex, and fountains of lions. They arrived at twilight,
and the shadowy hour lent even additional space to the huge halls and
galleries. Yet in the suite of rooms intended for Mr. Temple and his
daughter, every source of comfort seemed to have been collected. The
marble floors were covered with Indian mats and carpets, the windows
were well secured from the air which might have proved fatal to an
invalid, while every species of chair and couch, and sofa, courted the
languid or capricious form of Miss Temple, and she was even favoured
with an English stove, and guarded by an Indian screen. The apartments
were supplied with every book which it could have been supposed might
amuse her; there were guitars of the city and of Florence, and even an
English piano; a library of the choicest music; and all the materials
of art. The air of elegance and cheerful comfort that pervaded these
apartments, so unusual in this land, the bright blaze of the fire, evert
the pleasant wax-lights, all combined to deprive the moment of that
feeling of gloom and exhaustion which attends an arrival at a strange
place at a late hour, and Henrietta looked around her, and almost
fancied she was once more at Ducie. Lord Montfort introduced his
fellow-travellers to their apartments, presented to them the servant
who was to assume the management of their little household, and then
reminding them of their mutual promises that they were to be entirely
their own masters, and not trouble themselves about him any more than
if they were at Pisa, he shook them both by the hand, and bade them
good-night.
It must be confessed that the acquaintance of Lord Montfort had afforded
consolation to Henrietta Temple. It was impossible to be insensible to
the sympathy and solicitude of one so highly gifted and so very amiable.
Nor should it be denied that this homage, from one of his distinguished
rank, was entirely without its charm. To find ourselves, when deceived
and deserted, unexpectedly an object of regard and consideration,
will bring balm to most bosoms; but to attract in such a situation
the friendship of an individual whose deferential notice under any
circumstances must be flattering, and to be admired by one whom all
admire, these are accidents of fortune which few could venture to
despise. And Henrietta had now few opportunities to brood over the past;
a stream of beautiful and sublime objects passed unceasingly before
her vision. Her lively and refined taste, and her highly cultured mind,
could not refrain from responding to these glorious spectacles. She saw
before her all that she had long read of, all that she had long mused
over. Her mind became each day more serene and harmonious as she gazed
on these ideal creations, and dwelt on their beautiful repose. Her
companion, too, exerted every art to prevent these amusements from
degenerating into fatiguing expeditions. The Vatican was open to Lord
Montfort when it was open to none others. Short visits, but numerous
ones, was his system. Sometimes they entered merely to see a statue or
a picture they were reading or conversing about the preceding eve; and
then they repaired to some modern studio, where their entrance always
made the sculptor’s eyes sparkle. At dinner there was always some
distinguished guest whom Henrietta wished to see; and as she thoroughly
understood the language, and spoke it with fluency and grace, she was
tempted to enter into conversations, where all seemed delighted that she
played her part. Sometimes, indeed, Henrietta would fly to her chamber
to sigh, but suddenly the palace resounded with tones of the finest
harmony, or the human voice, with its most felicitous skill, stole upon
her from the distant galleries. Although Lord Montfort was not himself a
musician, and his voice could not pour forth those fatal sounds that
had ravished her soul from the lips of Ferdinand Armine, he was well
acquainted with the magic of music; and while he hated a formal concert,
the most eminent performers were often at hand in his palace, to
contribute at the fitting moment to the delight of his guests. Who could
withstand the soft influence of a life so elegant and serene, or
refuse to yield up the spirit to its gentle excitement and its mild
distraction? The colour returned to Henrietta’s cheek and the lustre
to her languid eye: her form regained its airy spring of health; the
sunshine of her smile burst forth once more.
It would have been impossible for an indifferent person not to perceive
that Lord Montfort witnessed these changes with feelings of no slight
emotion. Perhaps he prided himself upon his skill as a physician, but
he certainly watched the apparent convalescence of his friend’s daughter
with zealous interest. And yet Henrietta herself was not aware that Lord
Montfort’s demeanour to her differed in any degree from what it was at
Pisa. She had never been alone with him in her life; she certainly spoke
more to him than she used, but then, she spoke more to everybody; and
Lord Montfort certainly seemed to think of nothing but her pleasure and
convenience and comfort; but he did and said everything so quietly, that
all this kindness and solicitude appeared to be the habitual impulse of
his generous nature. He certainly was more intimate, much more intimate,
than during the first week of their acquaintance, but scarcely more
kind; for she remembered he had arranged her sofa the very first day
they met, though he did not even remain to receive her thanks.
One day a discussion rose about Italian society between Mr. Temple and
his host. His lordship was a great admirer of the domestic character and
private life of the Italians. He maintained that there was no existing
people who more completely fulfilled the social duties than this
much scandalised nation, respecting whom so many silly prejudices
are entertained by the English, whose travelling fellow-countrymen,
by-the-bye, seldom enter into any society but that tainted circle that