The Long Vacation

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  There was of course in Adeline A calm patrician polish in the address, Which ne'er can pass the equinoctial line Of anything which nature could express.--BYRON.

  It was a late autumn or winter day, according to the calendar, when TheMorning Star steamed up to the quay of Rocca Marina, but it was hard tobelieve it, for all the slope of one of the Maritime Alps lay stretchedout basking in the noonday sunshine, green and lovely, wherever notbroken by the houses below, or the rocks quarried out on the mountainside. Some snow lay on the further heights, enough to mark their forms,and contrast with the soft sweetness of the lap of the hills and theglorious Mediterranean blue.

  Anna and Franceska stood watching and exclaiming in a trance of delight,as one beauty after another revealed itself--the castellated remnant ofthe old tower, the gabled house with stone balconies and terraces, withparapets and vases below, the little white spire of the church tower ofthe English colony, looking out of the chestnut and olive groves above,and the three noble stone pines that sheltered the approach.

  Mr. White, in his launch, came out with exulting and hearty welcome tobring them ashore, through the crowd of feluccas, fishing-vessels, andone or two steamers that filled the tiny bay, and on landing, the partyfound an English wagonette drawn by four stout mules waiting to receivethem--mules, as being better for the heights than horses.

  Anna and Franceska insisted on walking with Mr. White and Sir Robert,and they fairly frisked in the delicious air of sea and mountain afterbeing so long cramped on board ship, stopping continually with screamsof delight over violets or anemones, or the views that unfoldedthemselves as they went higher and higher. The path Mr. White chosewas a good deal steeper than the winding carriage road cut out of themountain side, and they arrived before the mules with Mrs. Grinstead andher brother, at the Italian garden, with a succession of broad terracesprotected and adorned with open balustrades, with vases of late bloomingflowers at intervals, and broad stone steps, guarded by carved figures,leading from one to another.

  "It is like Beauty's palace," sighed out in delight Francie to hersister.

  "There's Beauty," laughed Anna, as at the open window upon the highestverandah-shaded balcony appeared the darkly handsome Maura and Mrs.White, her small features as pretty as ever, but her figure a good dealmore embonpoint than in Rockquay times.

  Hers was a very warm welcome to the two sisters and their friend, andto the others who reached the front door a few minutes later. Such anarrival was very pleasant to her, for it must be confessed that, savefor the English visitors, who were always gladly received, the life atRocca Marina was a dull one, in spite of its being near enough to SanRemo by the railway for expeditions for a day.

  Within, the dwelling was a combination of the old Italian palace withEnglish comforts. Mr. White, in his joy at possessing his gracefullady wife, had spared no expense in making it a meet bower for her, andGeraldine was as much amused as fascinated by the exquisiteness of allaround her; as she sat, in a most luxurious chair, looking out throughthe open window at the blue sea, yet with a lively wood fire burningunder a beauteous mantelpiece; statues, pictures, all that was recherchearound, while they drank their English tea out of almost transparentlydelicate cups, filled by Maura out of a beautifully chased service ofplate on a marble mosaic table.

  "And now you must let me show you your rooms," said Mrs. White. "Ithought you would like to have them en suite, for I am such a poorcreature that I cannot breakfast down-stairs, and Mr. White is obligedto be out early."

  So she led the way through a marble hall, pillared in different colours,rich and rare, with portraits of ancient Contes and Contessas on thewalls, up a magnificent stone stair with a carved balustrade, to asuite indeed, where, at the entrance, Sibby was found very happy at herwelcome from Mrs. Mount, who was equally glad to receive a countrywoman.

  There was a sitting-room with a balcony looking out on the bay, a studyand bedroom beyond for Clement on one side, and on the other charminglyfitted rooms for Geraldine, for her nieces, and her maid; and Mrs. Whiteleft them, telling them the dinner hour, and begging them to call freelyand without scruple for all and everything they could wish for. Nothingwould be any trouble.

  "We have even an English doctor below there," she said, pointing tothe roofs of the village. "There are so many accidents that Mr. Whitethought it better to be provided, so we have a little hospital with atrained nurse."

  It was all very good, very kind, yet the very family likeness to LiliasMerrifield and Jane Mohun made Geraldine think how much more simple inmanner one of them would have been without that nouveau riche tone ofexultation.

  "Here is a whole packet of letters," ended Mrs. White, "that came foryou these last two or three days."

  She pointed to a writing-table and went away, while the first letters soamazed Geraldine that she could think of nothing else, and hastened tosummon Clement.

  It was from Gerald, posted by the pilot from on board the steamer, veryshort, and only saying--

  "DEAREST CHERIE,

  "I know you will forgive me, or rather see that I do not need pardon forrescuing my sister. Anywhere in England she would be in danger of beingreclaimed to worse than death. Dolores will tell you all the situation,and I will send a letter as soon as we arrive at New York. No time formore, except that I am as much as ever

  "Your own, my Cherie's own,

  "GERALD."

  There followed directions how to send letters to him through the officeof the 'Censor'.

  Then she opened, written on the same day, a letter from Dolores Mohun,sent in obedience to his telegram, when he found that time for detailsfailed him. It began--

  "DEAR MRS. GRINSTEAD,

  "I know you will be shocked and grieved at the step that your nephew hastaken, but when you understand the circumstances, I think you will seethat it was unavoidable for one of so generous and self-sacrificing anature. I may add, that my aunt Lily is much touched, and thoroughlyapproves, and my uncle Jasper says imprudence is better thanselfishness."

  After this little preamble ensued a full and sensible account ofLudmilla's situation and sufferings at the circus, and the history ofher escape, demonstrating (to the writer's own satisfaction) that therewas no other means of securing the poor child.

  Of course the blow to Geraldine was a terrible one.

  "We have lost him," she said.

  "That does not follow," said Clement. "It is quite plain that he doesnot mean to cut himself off from us, and America is not out of reach."

  "It is just the restless impatience that you warned him against. As ifhe could not have taken her to the Hendersons."

  "She would not have been safe there, unless acts of cruelty could havebeen proved."

  "Or to us, out here."

  "My dear Cherry, imagine his sudden arrival with such an appendage! Ireally think the boy has acted for the best."

  "Giving up Oxford too!"

  "That can be resumed."

  "And most likely that wretched little girl will run off in a month'stime. It is in the blood."

  "Come, come, Cherry. I can't have you in this uncharitable mood."

  "Then I mustn't say what I think of that Dolores abetting him."

  "No, I like her letter."

  It fell hard upon Geraldine to keep all to herself, while entertained infull state by her hosts. Perhaps Adeline would have liked something on asmaller scale, for she knew what was ostentatious; but though Mr. Whitehad once lived in a corner of the castle, almost like an artisan; sincehe had married, it had become his pride to treat his guests on thegrandest London scale, and the presence of Sir Robert Audley for onenight evoked all his splendours. He made excuses for having no one tomeet the party but the chaplain and his wife and the young doctor, whohe patronizingly assured them was "quite the gentleman," and TheodoreWhite--"Just to fill up a corner and amuse the young ladies." Theodorehad been lately sent out, now a clerk, soon to be a partner; but he wasvery shy, and did not amuse the young ladies at all! Ind
eed, he was soonso smitten with admiration for Franceska, that he could do nothing butsit rapt, looking at her under his eyelids.

  The chaplain had received an offer of preferment in England, and wasanxious to go home as soon as possible. Clement was now so well, thatafter assisting the next day in the week's duties among the people, andat the pretty little church that Mr. White had built, he ventured toaccept the proposal of becoming a substitute until the decision was madeor another chaplain found. He was very happy to be employed once more inhis vocation.

  The climate suited him exactly, and the loan of the chaplain's housewould relieve him and Geraldine from the rather oppressive hospitalityof the castle. The search for Benista's antecedents would of course goon with the assistance of Mr. White and his Italian foreman, but bothassured him that the inquiry might be protracted, as winter was likelyto cut off the communications with many parts of the interior, and manyof the men would be at their distant homes till the spring advanced.

  Meantime, Geraldine and her nieces had a home life, reading, studyingItalian, drawing with endless pleasure, and the young ones walking aboutthe chestnut-covered slopes. She sat in the gardens or drove with Mrs.White in her donkey-chaise, and would have been full of enjoyment butfor the abiding anxiety about Gerald. It was rather a relief not tobe living in the same house with the Whites, whose hospitality andmagnificence were rather oppressive. Mr. White wanted to have everythingadmired, and its cost appreciated; and Adeline, though clever enough,had provoking similarities and dissimilarities to her sisters. The samemight be said of Maura, to whom Francie at first took a great fancy, butAnna, who had seen more of the world, had a sense of distrust.

  "There's something fawning about her ways," said she, "and I don't knowwhether she is quite sincere."

  "Perhaps it is only being half Greek," said Geraldine.

  However, the two families met every day, and Mrs. White called theirintercourse "such a boon, such a charming friendship," all unaware thatthere was no real confidence or affection.

  They had not long been seated when the little Italian messenger boybrought them a budget of letters. Of course the first that Geraldineopened was in her nephew's writing. It had been written at intervalsthroughout the voyage, and finished on landing at New York.

  Passing over the expressions of unabated affection, and explanation ofthe need of removing Ludmilla out of reach of her natural guardians,with the date on the second day of the voyage, the diary continued:

  "Whom, as the fates would have it, should I have encountered but theCacique! Yes, old Fernan and Marilda have the stateliest of stateroomsin this same liner, and he was as much taken aback as I was when we ranagainst one another over a destitute and disconsolate Irish family inthe steerage. Marilda is as yet invisible, as is my poor little Lida. Itis unlucky, for the good man is profuse in his offers of patronage, andI don't mean to be patronized."

  Then, after some clever descriptions of the fellow second-classpassengers in his own lively vein, perhaps a little forced, so as notto betray more than he intended, that he felt them uncongenial, therecame--

  "Lida is up again; she is a sweet little patient person, and I cannotwithstand Fernan's wish to present her to his wife, who remainsprostrate at present, and will till we get out of the present stiffbreeze and its influences.

  "12th.--The presentation is over, and it has ended in Lida devotingherself to the succour of Marilda, and likewise of her maid, who is agood deal worse than herself.

  * * * * *

  "16th.--These amiable folks want to take Lida off with them, not to saymyself, to their 'Underwood' in the Rockies; but I don't intend her tobe semi-lady's-maid, semi-companion, as she is becoming, but to lether stand on her own legs, or mine, and put her to a good school at NewYork. I have finished an article on 'Transatlantic Travellers' for the'Censor', also some reviews, and another paper that may pave my way towork in New York or elsewhere. My craving is for the work of hard hands,but I look at mine, and fear I run more to the brain than the hands. Myfather must have been of finer physique than the Sioux bullet left tome; but I have no fears."

  "No, indeed," sighed Geraldine; "he has not the fine athletic strengthof his dear father, but still--still I think there is that in him whichEdgar had not."

  "Force of character," said Clement, "even if he is wrong-headed. Here isFernan's letter--

  "'Imagine my amazement at finding Gerald on board with us. He tells methat you are aware of his escapade, so I need not explain it. He isnot very gracious to either of us, and absolutely refuses all offers ofassistance either for himself or his sister. However, I hope to be ableto keep a certain watch over him without offending him, and to obviatesome of the difficulties in his way, perhaps unknown to him. Marildahas, as usual, suffered greatly on the voyage, but the little Lida, ashe calls her, has been most attentive and useful both to her and hermaid, who was quite helpless, and much the worst of the two. My wife wasmuch prejudiced against Lida at first, but has become very fond of her,and is sure that she is a thoroughly good girl--worth the sacrificeGerald has made for her. In his independent mood, he will not hearof our offering a home to the poor child; but if, as I hope, yourresearches turn out in his favour, he may consent to let us findsuitable education for her. At any rate, I promise Geraldine not toleave these two young things to their fate, though I may have to actsecretly. I can never forget how I took him from his father's side, andthe baptism almost in blood. We go to New Orleans first, and after thecold weather home, but letters to the Bank will find us.'"

  "Good, dear old Fernan and Marilda!" cried Geraldine, "I can see theirkindness, and how, with all their goodness, it must jar on Gerald'snerves."

  "I hope he won't be an ass," returned Clement. "Such patient goodnessought not to be snubbed by--" He caught his sister's eye, and made hislast words "youthful theorists."

  Mrs. Henderson too forwarded a letter from Lida, being sure that itwould be a great pleasure to Mrs. Grinstead. It went into many moreparticulars about the miseries of the circus training than had beenknown before, and the fears and hints which made it plain that it hadbeen quite right to avail herself of the means of escape; after whichwas added--

  "I never thought to be so happy as I am here. My brother is the noblest,most generous, most kind of creatures, and that he should do all thisfor me, after all the harm he has suffered from my poor mother! It quiteoverpowers me when I think of it. I see a tear has dropped, but it issuch a happy one. Please tell Mr. Flight what peace and joy this is tome, after all my prayers and trying to mind what he said. There are sucha gentleman and lady here, cousins to my brother, Sir Ferdinand and LadyTravis Underwood. She has been more or less ill all through the voyage,and her maid worse, and she has let me do what I could for her, andhas been kindness itself. They were at the bazaar. Did you see SirFerdinand? He is the very grandest and handsomest man I ever did see,and so good to all the poor emigrants in the steerage. He is very kindto me; but I see that my brother will not have me presume. They havebidden me write to them in any need. I never thought there could be somany good people out of Rockquay. Please give my duty to Mr. Flight andLady Flight, good Miss Mohun, and dear Miss Dolores. I wear her ulster,and bless the thought of her."

  CHAPTER XXIX. -- ROWENA AND HER RIVAL