CHAPTER XXVIII
THIS MUST END.
The note which accompanied Langhetti's journal was as follows:
"HALIFAX, December 18, 1848.
"TERESUOLA VIA DOLCISSIMA,--I send you my journal, _sorella carissima_.I have been silent for a long time. Forgive me. I have been sad and inaffliction. But affliction has turned to joy, and I have learned thingsunknown before.
"_Teresina mia_, I am coming back to England immediately. You may expectto see me at any time during the next three months. _She_ will be withme; but so sensitive is she--so strange would she be to you--that I donot know whether it will be well for you to see her or not. I dare notlet her be exposed to the gaze of any one unknown to her. Yet, sweetest_sorellina_, perhaps I may be able to tell her that I have a dearestsister, whose heart is love, whose nature is noble, and who could treather with tenderest care.
"I intend to offer my Opera to the world at London. I will be my ownimpresario. Yet I want one thing, and that is a Voice. Oh for a Voicelike that of Bice! But it is idle to wish for her.
"Never have I heard any voice like hers, my Teresina. God grant that Imay find her!
"Expect soon and suddenly to see your most loving brother,
"PAOLO."
Mrs. Thornton showed this note to Despard the next time they met. He hadread the journal in the mean time.
"So he is coming back?" said he.
"Yes."
"And with this marvelous girl?"
"Yes."
"She seems to me like a spirit."
"And to me."
"Paolo's own nature is so lofty and so spiritual that one like her isintelligible to him. Happy is it for her that he found her."
"Paolo is more spiritual than human. He has no materialism. He isspiritual. I am of the earth, earthy; but my brother is a spiritimprisoned, who chafes at his bonds and longs to be free. And think whatPaolo has done for her in his sublime devotion!"
"I know others who would do as much," said Despard, in a voice thatseemed full of tears; "I know others who, like him, would go to thegrave to rescue the one they loved, and make all life one long devotion.I know others," he continued, "who would gladly die, if by dying theycould gain what he has won--the possession of the one they love. Ah me!Paolo is happy and blessed beyond all men. Between him and her there isno insuperable barrier, no gulf as deep as death."
Despard spoke impetuously, but suddenly checked himself.
"I received," said he, "by the last mail a letter from my uncle inHalifax. He is ordered off to the Cape of Good Hope. I wrote him a verylong time ago, as I told you, asking him to tell me without reserve allthat he knew about my father's death. I told him plainly that there wasa mystery about it which I was determined to solve. I reproached him forkeeping it secret from me, and reminded him that I was now a mature man;and that he had no right nor any reason to maintain any farther secrecy.I insisted on knowing all, no matter what it might be.
"I received his letter by the last mail. Here it is;" and he handed itto her. "Read it when you get home. I have written a few words to you,little playmate, also. He has told me all. Did you know this before?"
"Yes, Lama," said Mrs. Thornton, with a look of sorrowful sympathy.
"You knew all my father's fate?"
"Yes, Lama."
"And you kept it secret?"
"Yes, Lama. How could I bear to tell you and give you pain?"
Her voice trembled as she spoke. Despard looked at her with anindescribable expression.
"One thought," said he, slowly, "and one feeling engrosses all mynature, and even this news that I have heard can not drive it away.Even the thought of my father's fate, so dark and so mysterious, cannot weaken the thoughts that have all my life been supreme. Do you know,little playmate, what those thoughts are?"
She was silent. Despard's hand wandered over the keys. They always spokein low tones, which were almost whispers, tones which were inaudibleexcept to each other. And Mrs. Thornton had to bow her head close to histo hear what he said.
"I must go," said Despard, after a pause, "and visit Brandon again. Ido not know what I can do, but my father's death requires furtherexamination. This man Potts is intermingled with it. My uncle gives darkhints. I must make an examination."
"And you are going away again?" said Mrs. Thornton, sadly.
Despard sighed.
"Would it not be better," said he, as he took her hand in his--"wouldit not be better for you, little playmate, if I went away from youforever?"
She gave him one long look of sad reproach. Then tears filled her eyes.
"This can not go on forever," she murmured. "It must come to that atlast!"
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