CHAPTER XIX
In Capri
April, the beautiful April of Southern Italy, was half-way spent beforethe Villa Camellia broke up for the holidays. There were the usualterm-end examinations, at which distressed damsels, with agitated mindsand ink-stained fingers, sat at desks furnished with piles of foolscap,and cudgeled their brains to supply facts to fill the sheets of blankpaper; there was the reading out of results, with congratulations tothose who had succeeded, and glum looks from Miss Rodgers to those whohad failed; then followed the bringing down of boxes, the joyful flutterof packing, the last breakfast, and the final universal exodus.
"Good-by, dear old thing!"
"Do miss me a little!"
"Hope you'll have a ripping time!"
"Be a sport and write to me, won't you?"
"Hold me down, somebody, I'm ready to fizz over!"
"You won't forget me, dearie? All right! Just so long as we know!"
Lorna, who had anticipated previous vacations as simply a relief fromthe toil of lessons, went home to Naples with quite altered feelingsfrom those of former occasions. She was determined that, if it possiblylay in her power, she would make her father enjoy the time she spentwith him. In spite of injustice and cruel wrong there might surely besome happy hours together, and she would win him to live in the present,instead of continually brooding over the past. The immense, terriblepathos of the situation appealed to the deepest chords in her nature.Her father was still in the prime of his years, a handsome, clever man,who might have done much in the world. Was it yet too late? Lornasometimes had faint, budding hopes that in some fresh country hiswrecked career might be righted, and that he might make a new start andrise triumphant over the ruin of other days. He was glad to see her.There was no doubt about that. The knowledge that she now shared hissecret placed her on a different footing. It was a relief to him to havesome one in whom he could confide, some one who knew the reason for hishermit mode of living, and above all who believed in his innocence.Insensibly Lorna's presence acted upon him for good. The nervous, huntedlook began to fade out of his eyes, and sometimes he actually smiled asshe recounted the doings of the Camellia Buds, or other happenings atschool.
"Daddy!" she said once, "couldn't we go out to Australia or America, orsomewhere where nobody would know us, and make a fresh life forourselves?"
A gleam of hope flitted for a moment over the sad face.
"I've thought of that, Lorna. Perhaps I've been too morbid. It seemed tome that every Englishman must know of what I had been accused. And I hadno credentials to offer. Now, with a five years' reference from theFerroni Company in Naples I might have a chance of a job in Australia.It's worth considering--for your sake, child, if not for mine."
During the whole of the first week of the holidays Lorna amused herselfas best she might in their little lodgings in Naples. While her fatherwas at the office she read or sewed, or played on a wretched old piano,which had little tune in it but was better than nothing. The eveningswere her golden times, for then they would go out together, sometimesinto the Italian quarters of the city, or sometimes by tram into thesuburbs, where there were beautiful promenades with views of the sea. Inthese walks she grew to be his companion, and instead of shrinking fromhim as in former days, she met him on a new footing and gave him of herbest. Together they planned a home in a fresh hemisphere, and talkedhopefully of better things that were perhaps in store for them over theocean. And so life went on, and father and daughter might have realizedtheir vision, and have emigrated to another continent where no one knewtheir name or their former history, and have made a fresh start and woncomparative success, but Dame Fortune, who sometimes has a use for ourpast however bitterly she seems to have mismanaged it, interfered again,and with fateful fingers re-flung the dice.
It certainly did not seem a fortunate circumstance, but quite thereverse, when the grandchildren of their landlady, who occupied the_etage_ above their rooms, sickened with measles. Lorna had never hadthe complaint, and it was, of course, most important that she should notconvey germs back to the Villa Camellia, so it was a vital necessity tomove her immediately out of the area of infection. Signora Fiorenza,harassed but sympathetic, suggested a visit to Capri, where her sister,Signora Verdi, who owned a little orange farm and had a couple of sparebedrooms, would probably take her in for the remainder of the holidays,which would give the necessary quarantine before returning to theschool.
Mr. Carson jumped at the opportunity, and Lorna was told to pack herbag.
"But Daddy, Daddy!" she remonstrated. "I don't want to leave you. Justwhen we're happy together must I run away? Do measles matter? I'd ratherhave them and stay here. I would indeed."
"Don't be silly, Lorna. Miss Rodgers wouldn't thank you to start anepidemic. Of course you must go to Capri. It's a splendid opportunity.Signora Verdi has a nice little villa. Cheer up, child. I'll tell youwhat I'll do. I'll take you myself to-morrow, stay over Sunday, and comeagain and spend the next week-end with you. I can get an extra day ortwo of holiday if I want, and the Casa Verdi is a quiet spot, quite outof the way of tourists. We can have the orange groves to ourselves andsee nobody. If I catch the early boat I'm not likely to be troubled withEnglish trippers; that's one good business."
"Daddy! You darling! Oh, that would be glorious! I'd go to the NorthPole if you'd come too. Two week-ends with you in Capri! What fun. We'llhave the time of our lives!"
To poor Lorna, who so seldom had the opportunity of enjoying familyoutings, this visit indeed was an event. She packed her bag joyously,and was all excitement to start.
Following his usual custom of avoiding the vicinity of English people,Mr. Carson decided not to go to Capri by the ordinary steamer thatconveyed pleasure-seekers, but to secure passages in a cargo vesselwhich was crossing with supplies. To Lorna the mode of conveyance wasimmaterial; she would have sailed cheerfully on a raft if necessary. Sherather enjoyed the picturesque Neapolitan tramp steamer with its cargoof wine barrels and packing cases, and its crew of bare-footed,red-capped seamen, talking and gesticulating with all the excitabilityof their Southern temperament. The voyage across the blue bay was longerthan that to Fossato, and she sat in a cozy nook among the casks, andwatched first the white houses of Naples fading away, then the distantmountains of the coast, then the gay sails of the fishing craft thatplied to and fro over the water.
It was sunset when they reached the beautiful island of Capri, a pinkethereal sunset that flooded headland and rock, orange orchard andvineyard, in a faint and luminous opal glow. Their vessel anchoredoutside the quay of the Marina Grande, and signaled for a boat to takethem off. A little skiff put out from the beach, and into this they andtheir luggage were transferred. The transparent crystal water over whichthey rowed was clear as an aquarium, and alive with gorgeous medusaewhose pink tentacles seemed to flash with the colors of the sunset; togaze down at them was like watching a flock of sea-butterflies flittingacross a background of undulating green.
They landed at the jetty, walked to the shore, and after securing acarriage started on a long drive uphill to the _terreno_ of SignoraVerdi. Capri, betwixt the glow of the fading sunset and the light of therising full moon, was a veritable land of romance, with its domedeastern-looking houses set in a mass of vines and lemon trees, and theluscious scent of its many flowers wafted on the evening air. It seemedno less attractive in the morning, when, after drinking their coffee ina rose-covered arbor that stood at the bottom of their landlady's orangegrove, they wandered away through the _bosco_ and up on to the openhillside. Here Flora had surely played a trick to plant golden genistaagainst the intense sapphire blue of a Capri sea, and she must haveemptied her apron all at once to have spangled the rough grass withcistus, anemone, and starry asphodel. Below them lay a stretch of ruggedrocks and turquoise bay, with no sound to break the silence but thetinkling of goat-bells, or the piping of a little dark-eyed boy whopracticed a rustic flute as he minded his flock. To poor Mr. Carson,wearied with the noise and clamor of Naples, i
t was a veritableParadise, a haven of refuge, a breathing space in the dreary pilgrimageof his sad life. On the top of this sunlit, rock-crowned islet he gaineda short period of peace and rest before he once more shouldered hisheavy burden.
"If I could live all my days here, Lorna, who knows, I might learn toforget," he said wistfully.
"Oh, Dad! We must find a way out somehow. You can't go on like this!It's killing you. Why have we to suffer under this unjust accusation?Why should some one else do a shameful deed and shift the blame on toyou? Is there no plan by which you could clear your name?"
"I've asked myself that question, Lorna, through many black hours, butI've never hit on an answer."
"I hate the man who's wronged you," she sobbed passionately. "Yes! Ihate him--hate him--hate him--and all belonging to him. Is it wicked tohate? I can't help it when it's my own father's honor that's at stake.Oh, Daddy, Daddy, if I could only 'get even' I'd be content. It seems sohard to let the wicked prosper and just do nothing. Why should somepeople have all the laughter of life and others all the tears?"
Lorna parted reluctantly from her father on Monday morning. He sailedby a very early boat, so that the sun had not yet risen high, as, afterwatching his vessel leave the harbor, she turned from the Marina to walkback to the Casa Verdi. Half of the little town was still asleep. Therewere no signs of life in the hotel, where the wistaria was blooming in apurple shower over the veranda, and green shutters barred the lowerwindows of most of the villas. A few peasant people were stirring about;three dark-eyed girls, as straight as Greek goddesses, were coming downthe steep path from Anacapri with orange baskets on their heads, andtheir hands full of posies of pink cyclamen; a mother with a childclinging to her yellow-bordered skirt was taking an earthenware pitcherto the well for water; a persistent bell in the little church of S.Costanzo was calling some to prayers, and others were starting theordinary routine of the day, attending to animals, cutting salads intheir gardens, spreading out fishing-nets, or getting ready the handbarrows on which they sold their wares. In the gleaming morning lightthe beautiful island seemed more than ever like a radiant jewel set in asapphire sea. Lorna had left the winding highroad, and was taking ashort cut up flights of steep steps between the flowery gardens ofvillas, where geraniums grew like weeds, and every bush seemed a mass ofscented blossoms. She was passing a small flat-topped eastern house,whose gatepost bore the attractive title of "La Carina," when shesuddenly heard her own name called, and turning round, startled andsurprised, what should she see peeping over the cactus hedge but thesmiling face and blonde bobbed locks of Irene. The amazement was mutual.
"Hello! What are you doing in Capri?"
"What are _you_ doing here?"
"I'm staying up on the hill!"
"And we're staying at this villa!"
"To think of meeting you!"
"Sporting, isn't it? Come inside the garden! I can't talk to you downthere in the road."
That her chum should actually also have come to Capri for the holidaysseemed a marvelous piece of luck to Lorna.
"We decided quite in a hurry," explained Irene. "Dad heard this littleplace was to let furnished, and took it for three weeks. The Cameronshave taken that big pink house over there, with the umbrella pine in thegarden. Peachy is staying with them. Isn't it absolutely ripping? I wasonly saying yesterday I wished you were here too. And my cousin MarjorieAnderson and her friends are stopping at the hotel, just down below.We're having the most glorious times all together. Here's Vincent! Vin,you remember meeting Lorna at school? She's actually staying in Capri!No, don't go, Lorna! Sit down and talk! Now I've found you I mean tokeep you. We're not generally up so early, but Dad wants to catch thefirst steamer. He has to get back to Naples this morning."
"My father has gone already by a sailing vessel."
"Then you are alone? Oh, I say! You must spend most of your time withus. It's a lucky chance that has blown you our way, isn't it? We seemquite a cluster of Camellia Buds in Capri."
So Lorna, who had expected a very quiet, not to say dull, visit at theCasa Verdi during her father's absence, found herself instead in themidst of hospitable friends who extended cordial invitations to her forevery occasion.
"By all means let your friend join us," agreed Mrs. Beverley, in answerto her daughter's urgent request. "We've heard so much about Lorna inyour letters. She seems a nice girl. I remember I was quite struck withher when I saw her at your school carnival. One more or less makes nodifference for picnics. It must certainly be slow for her up there withonly an Italian landlady to talk to, poor child."
Capri was an idyllic place for holiday-making. The beautiful climate,perfect at this season of the year, made living out of doors a delight.Every day the various friends met together, and either went forexcursions or passed happy hours in each other's gardens. The Cameronshad several young people staying with them as well as Peachy, and theparty at the hotel proved a great acquisition. This consisted of CaptainHilton Preston and his sister Joyce, their married sister Kathleen andher husband, Mr. Frank Roper, and Marjorie Anderson, who was travelingunder their chaperonage. They were fond of the sea, and had at once madearrangements to hire a boat and a boatman for their visit, so that theymight have as much pleasure as possible on the water during their shortstay.
"We shan't be able to paddle about on the Mediterranean when we gethome," said Captain Preston with mock tragedy. "My leave will soon be upand I shall be off to India again. It's a case of 'Let's enjoy while theseason invites us.' These rocks and bays and coves are simplymagnificent. We've decided to go to the Blue Grotto to-day. Who cares tojoin us?"
This was an expedition which could only be undertaken when the sea wasabsolutely calm, so, as even the Mediterranean may be treacherous, andsudden squalls can lash its smooth surface into waves, it was wise totake advantage of a cloudless day.
"We'll start early, so as to arrive there before the steamer, and havethe grotto to ourselves, instead of going in with a rabble of tourists,"decreed Hilton Preston.
"Four boatfuls of us will be a big enough party," agreed Vincent. "Theysay the best light is at about eleven."
The group of friends therefore set off from the Marina in their variouscraft. The row along the base of the precipitous craggy shore was mostbeautiful, the water swarmed with gayly-colored sea-stars andjelly-fish, and on the rocks at the edge of the waves grew gorgeousmadrepores, and other "frutti di mare." The Blue Grotto is one of thewonders of Italy, but to explore it is not a particularly easy matter,for its entrance is scarcely three feet in height.
"My! Have we got to squeeze under there!" exclaimed Peachy wonderingly,looking at the tiny space at the foot of the crag through which theywould be obliged to pass.
"Not in these boats, of course," said Vincent. "The skiffs are waiting,and if we just leave it to the boatmen they'll show us how to manage."
The tiny craft that were in readiness for visitors now came forward,and the party was transferred to them. Three passengers were taken ineach skiff, and were required to lie flat on their backs in the bottomof the boat. The boatman paddled to the entrance of the grotto, thenalso lying on his back he directed the skiff into a low passage, workinghis way along by pulling at a chain which was fastened to the roof ofthe rocky corridor. In a short space of time they shot into an enormouscavern, 175 feet in length, and over 40 feet in height. Here for amoment or two all seemed dazzled, but as their bewildered visiongradually grew accustomed to the light they saw that everything in thegrotto, walls, sea, or any objects, appeared of a heavenly blue color.The faces of their friends, their own hands, the water when they scoopedit up and dropped it again, all were turned to sapphire, while articlesunder the sea gleamed with a beautiful silver shade. The girls baredtheir arms and enjoyed dipping them to obtain this effect. The gloriousblue of the cave was indescribable.
"I feel like a mermaid at the bottom of the ocean," exulted Peachy.
"Or a cherub in the sky!" said Jess.
"Why is it blue though?" asked Lorn
a.
"Because of the refraction of light," explained Mrs. Beverley from thenext boat. "We see a kind of concentrated reflection of the sky sent tous under the sea. If it were a gray day outside it would be gray in heretoo. Some people think that the Mediterranean has risen, and that oncethe water in this grotto was much lower, so that boats could sail in andout of it quite easily. Do you see that landing-place over there? Itleads to some broken steps and a blocked-up passage that tradition sayswound up through the cliff right to the villa of Tiberius. Perhaps itwas a secret way by which he thought he might escape if dangerthreatened him."
"How I'd love to explore it," sighed Irene.
"It only goes a little way before it is blocked. It's hardly worthlanding to look at it. Be careful, Renie! If you lean over the edge ofthe boat so far you'll be upsetting us, and, although we might look verydelightful and silvery objects under the water, I'm not at all anxiousto offer myself for the experiment."
"Why don't they enlarge the entrance?" asked Vincent.
"Because nobody is sure whether by doing so they might or might notspoil the beautiful effect of blue light in the grotto. It's too risky aventure to try. Besides in present conditions the boatmen make a greatdeal of money by taking tourists into the grotto. If it were very easyto get in they could not charge so much. It's a little mine of wealth tothe Capri fisherfolk now, though years ago they used to say the placewas haunted, and tell terrible tales about it. They said fire and smokehad been seen issuing from the entrance, that creatures like crocodilescrept in and out, that every day the opening expanded and contractedseven times, that at night the Sirens sang sweetly there, that any youngfishermen who ventured to sail near disappeared and were never seenagain, and that the place was full of human bones."
"What a gruesome record," declared Vincent. "I agree with Renie though,I'd like to explore that passage with a strong bicycle lamp, or anelectric torch. Who knows what we might find if we looked about--a cointhat Tiberius had dropped out of his pocket, or one of the Sirens'hairpins, or a crocodile's tooth at least. Yes, I must positively comeagain, Mater. Just to prove the truth of your stories."
"Silly boy," laughed his mother. "I expect every stone of the place hasbeen well turned over in search of treasure. Trust the fisher people notto lose a chance. Now our stay here's limited by the official tariff toa quarter of an hour, and if we stop any longer we shall have to pay ourdues a second time. If you're ready so am I. Tell the first boat to goon. Don't forget we must lie on our backs again to scrape through theentrance."
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