Chapter 138063421

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Chapter NumberXCIII
Chapter TitleSAY THAT YOU FORGIVE ME.
Chapter Urlhttp://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article138063421
Full Date1870-03-12
Page Number5
Corrections0
Word Count3835
IllustratedN
Last Corrected0000-00-00
Newspaper TitleThe Australasian (Melbourne, Vic. : 1864 - 1946)
Trove TitleHe Knew He Was Right
article text

tHfi

-JTknew ;bW was

M- BX A wrflfrETY TflOLLOPa

Chapter xoin.

tbaf tOO forgive MB.

te50

On the following day, agMnearly in the Sing. Mrs. Trevelyanand Stanbury were ?ivenont to Casalunga. The cottntrr people

rtie road knew the carriage well, and

«dy who occupied it, and would say that t»!fl?nelish wife was going to sep her mad fibaX Mra. TreveTyan knew that these Sb were common hi . the people s mouthy Zdeiplained to her companion how neces

SS it would be to use these rumours to aid

fiw. oaivia rAftfcmtnfiOVflr her husband

fmm him how Ittph. steps might be taken.

7~~ Viim how (UCQ steps migns oe ta&en.

Themeasure propped would beslow difficulty

voffiTfent. and very hard to set aside, if once

Skfn -but stiU Mnught be indispensable ttSsomething shofd be done. " He would S so much worse off here than he would be it home," she said;-'if we could only make Wm understand that it would bp so. Then sf.anbnry asked about the wine. It seemed that of late Trevelyan had taken to drink Jwwlr but only of the wine of the country, nit the wine of the country in these parts is Efficiently stimulating, and Mrs. Trevelyan Acknowledged that hence had arisen a further

?cause of fear.

They walked up the hill together, and Mrs. Trevelyan, now well knowing the ways of the nlace went round at once to the front tanaie There he was, seated in his arm chair. dressed in the same way as yesterday, sjrty dishevelled, and gandy with various colours; but Stanbury conld see at once that .Ms mood had greatly changed. He rose slowly, dragging himself up out of his chair, as they came up to him, but showing as he

and placed him back in his chair. He was woik, he said, and had not slept, and suffered from the heat; and then be bilged her to give him wine. This die did, half oiling for him a tumbler, of which be swallowed the contents greedily. " Yon see me very poorly, Stanbury,—very poorly," he said, seeming to ignore all that had taken plaoe on the previous

day.

" Ton want change of climate, old fellow,"

said Stanbury.

"Change of everythingI want change of everything," he said. " If I could have a new body and a new mind, and a new soul!"

"The mind and soul, dear, will do well enough, if yon will letus look after the body," said taia wife, seating herself on a stool pear his feet Stanbury, who had settled before land how he would conduct himself, took eat s cigar and lighted itand then thej sat together silent, or nearly silent, for half an hoar. She had said that if Hugh wonld dtjso, Trevelyan wonld soon become used to the pre sence of his old friend, and it seemed thai he had already done so. More than once, wlen he coughed, his wife fetched him some dr(nk in a cup, which he took from hfer withou word. And, Stanbury the while went

smoking in silence.

" You have heard, Louis, " she said at

"that, after all, Nora and Mr. Stanbury

going to be married?" i

"Ah;—yes; I think I was told of it.

hope yon may be happy, Stanbury;-hapdi

than I have been," This was unfortunaL, hat neither of the visitors winced, or said a

word.

"It will be a pity that papa and mamaa oumotbe pre»ent i^thewredding,'!"ea»d -Ms..

Trevelyan.

"ftIhadtodb itagairLl should not reg yo&r father's hb&nce ; I1nustaay that

been my enemy. Yes, Stanbury,

•enemy. I donVi carewhohears me h

bliged $0 stfiy bere, becai

I am obli

state of health would be too much for me."

"But Sir MarmadnkP eaila hom Soutl' ampton this very week," said Stanbury.

'I don't know. He is 'always sailing, aui"

ck amun. I never asker „ .n toy life, and ydt he ha*

treated me as though I were his bitterest

•AriAm* "

and ydt he ha*

a,me as tnougn l w

?enemi

w will tronble you no mote now, Louis, ®d Mrg. Trevelyan.

l . ^a5,not. tronble you again. He will wmlrit England,bMore you can possibly

have loft other traitors behind

none as bad As himself," said

anftp l?' 'Jetthjaiagftt was finished, rose f f11*6 husband and wife together on

w terrace. There was little *n

am .t r> i *« little -enough to be

gatat Casalunga, but he stroliaf about w^att^ riacp. He went into the huge £™toy, and then down among the olive g^^ana then down among the olive

5 f"dtDA,mt0 which had been

He stood and. teased the

7 *¥ Perepiratiun which rose

Se™ lending. And aU

wmw uO was fchinlrinff tokab Ua. «waMI4

thiQklQ« what he wonld do

JS or wimt sayjuat, with the view of

away from the place.

Sdfcul1^ b?ea venr. tender with him.

l?,*wtoing, taking from

« fcWQ'nnmonmrtlg amv bKmih) }m»hu

i or Ins comfort. But he

wonld bebffltoacious for .Hehadoon

Sng11^! ^a^somo

~ —took round the hpusp on to the

W, there, sitting at her

a. * SUlitotoA kI.. a S4

"Re told you to,come," said

& . WJ.C01 I™

«r?r yifi *al *°utode to'

SSs &?> «"S£.a"M ¥ gw^toeu toereliauother thing," said

wile was still holding his hand, and he did < notat onceattemnt to withdraw it; bat he

""T 'I'hev will not let yon remain hare qnietlfe ? saidSt&bnty. • •-- • ' !

?•u^howi»notrv : *;.* i'

''Tbie.I^aliaas.; the®,'ore already wjinf that.youare not fit to be: alone ; and if once they get you into their hands, —under some Italian medical lWrd,perhaps Into'.somO

Italian Mylum, It might be years before yob 1

could get out,—if ever. I have comet? i

tell son what *.h» T j - - ' •

you wiUbelieve me.'1 .

"Is it so!he said, turning to his wife.

" I believe it is, Louis."

;>?3 " And who has told them 1 Whohas been ? putting them up to itT" Now his hand had t heed withdrawn. "My God, am I to be

followed hero too with such persecution as

tbisT"

eyes*"0tKM*y ^°^ ^eni»~but people have

" Liar, traitor, fiend 1—it is you! " he said,

turning upon his wife.

. "Louis, as I hope for mercy, /havesaid not a word to any one that could injure you."

rti ??* «&° ?ot be so unjust, and so

.. -,w-t uw vo. wi uujutfv, auu so

foolish," said Stanbury. "It is not her doing. Do you suppose that yon can live here like this and give rise to no remarks? Do you think that people's eyes are not open, and'thattheir tongues will not speak? I tell

you, you an? in danger here."

"What am I to do? Where am I to go ? Cannot they let me stay till I die? Whom am I hurting here? She may have all my

money, if she wants it. She has got my

child."

I want nothing, Louis, but to take you where you may be safe and well."

Stanbury asked1 a*ra"* ®°*n'g England ?'

. " Because they have threatened to put me—

in a madhouse.

said hfa*w$e''eVer of 60 treating you,"

Yonr* father did,—and your mother. They told me so." . . . . .

'Look here, Trevelyan. Sir Marmaduke and Lady Uowley are gone. They will have

sailed, at least, before we cs

can reach England.

Whatever may have been either their wishes or their power,- they can do nothing now.

Here 'something would be done,—very sOon.

V/wi mowtnlrA •»»*» T* —— —!,B

You may take my word for that. If you will

ihall choose return with me and your wife, youst

your own place of abode. Is not that so, Emily?"

" Be shall choose everything. His boy will be with him, and I will be with him, and he shall be contradicted in nothing. If he only knew my heart towards him 1"

" You hear what she says, Trevelyan ? " "Yes; I hear her."

" And you believe her ? "

" I'm not so sure of that. Stanbury: how should you like to be locked np in a madhouse and grin through the bars till your heart was broken ? It would not take long with me, Iknow."

" Yon shall never be locked up;—never be touched," said his wife.

" I am very harmless here," he said, almost crying ; " very harmless. I do not think

anybody here will touch me," he added after- 1 wards. "And there are other places. There are other places. My God, that I should be driven abont the world like this." The con

ference was ended by his saying that he wonld take , two days to think of it, and by his then desiring that they would both leave him. They did so, and descended the hill together, knowing that he was watching them ;—that he would watch them till they were out of sight from the gate :—for, as Mis. Trevelyan said, he never came down the hill now, know ing fh^t the labour of ascending it was too much ior him. When they were at the car riage they were met by one of the women of the hoitse, and strictest injunctions were given to hist by Mrs. Trevelyan to send in word to Siena if the Signore should :

_ prepare to move. He cannot go far without my knowingit," said she, " because he draws his money in Siena, and lately I have taken to him what he Wants, He has not enough with him for a long journey." For 8tanbury had suggested that , he might be off to seek another resi dence in another country, anil that they would find Gasalunga vacant when they reached it on the following Tuesday. But he told himself almost immediately, —not caring te express such an opinion to Emily,-—that

evelyan would hardly have strength even prepare for such a journey by himself,

the intervening day, the Monday, Stan had no occupation whatever, and he thought that since he was born no day had

been sb long. Siena contains many ments of interest, and much that is

in art,—having had a school of „ of its own, and still retaining in its . c gallery specimens of its school, of whm as & city it is justly proud. There are aides there to be beaten tor gloomy majesty

_y one in Italy. . There is a cathedral which waslo have been the largest in the world,

and Van which few ate more Worthy of pro- 1 long! inspection. The town is old, and

~ . and picturesque, and dirty, and

rve,—as it becomes a town in Italy to be. at in July all such charms are thrown awayj ln July Italy is hot a land of charms to antnglishman. Poor Stanbury did wander into ta cathedral, and finding it the coolest place .{the town, went to sleep on a stone

step. jle was awoke by the voice of the

grieshfu they began to chaunt tlw rosters.

Site gST-naturedTtalians had let htm i

and wpld have let him sleep till the doors

ed for thp night. At five he dined . Trevelyan, and then endeavoured to

: the evening thinkiag of Nora

y. in his mouth. He was standing

in this ay at the hotel gateway, when, on a* sadden, til Siena Was made alive by the

(an open carriage arid four on its

{h the town to the railway. On Stanbury saw Lord Peterborough •m •»«>. wiage,--with a lady whom he did

Sotdout to be Lord Peterborough's wife.

Ee hlms< had not been recognised, bat he

slowly fo >wed the carriage to the railway ' station. Iter the Italian fashion, the arrival wt three-quarters of an hour before

Nth,.mom time, mid Stanbury had full1 obportuni of learning their news and telling bjta own. hey were coming np from Rome, i and jmougj it preferable to take the route j

" Use the/ail way through the |

they intended to peach

: beisreaUymadf' asked djadyPetomougb, \

"Hedsuioubtef llysomad asjto be unfit to manage iMhtng ror himself, bat be is not

insucha cafitidn that any one would wish in such * cojLition that any one would wis a

'toongh dmrt oight be mere (Us tress? s

'»adhiswifeiosUted that

i vwaswBiiSwttfiw

"and phe mustootae

iit,1?-'" tit? I i/: . ,

Florence, andteUherhow we saw you

«i!lTpoaairiroMno,'' B4W the husband,—

» " cme dWn't«*p^ to toa Vw Jlere.^ Good}

timedace t>«^[rdo

'H

Andthat he would havebeeti able to started ? bis return oh the' Wednesday morning,—or oh Wednesday eyeping at the latest But how there did not seem to be any chance of that i—and he hardly khew.how to gnes9 when he might get awafr He had sent, a telegram to Lady Rotoley after his firpt visit

in which he had Simply said that things were ! not at sdl chahgedhx Casaltinga, and he had ! written to Nora each day since his arrival. I TTi'n stay was prolottgep at great expense and j inconvenience to'himielf; and yet it was im> < possible that he shbhld go and leave his work

half finished. As he WsSkedupthekill to the ! house, he felt very angry with Trevelyan, and i prepared hitnself to use hard words and dread- I ful threats. But'at the very mCment of his entrance on the terracfe, Trevelyan professed himself ready to go to England. "That's right,bid fellow," said Hugh. " I am so glad." But in expressing his joy he had hardly riofciced TreVelyah's voice aha .appearance.

" I might as well go," he said. " it matters little where I am, or whether they say that

I am mad or sane."

"When we have you over there, nobody shall say a word that is disagreeable."

"I only hope that-yon may not have the trouble of burying', me on the road. You don't know, Stanbuiy, how ill I am. I cannot eat. If I were at the bottom of that bin, I could no tnore walk up it than I could By. I cannot sleep, add at night my bed is wet: tbrbugh with rperspiration. I can re

member nothing,—nothing but what I ought • to forget." '

"Well put you on to your le^s again when we get you to your own climate.'

"I shall be a poor traveller,—a poor traveller; but I will do my best."

When would he start? That was the next Question. Trevelyan. asked for a week, and Stanbuiy brought him. down at last to three days. They woiild go to Florence by the evening train on Friday, and sleep there. Emily should come.oat and assist him to ar range bis things on the morrow. Having finished so much of his business, Stanbuiy re

turned to Siena.

They both feared that he might be found on the next day to have departed from his intention; bnt no such idea seemed to have occurred to him. He gave instructions as to the notice to be served on the agent from the hospital as to his house, Bpd allowed Emily to go among his things and make preparations for the journey. He did not say much to her; and when she attempted,' with s soft half uttered word, to assure him that the threat of Italian interference, which had come from Stanbuiy, had not reached Stanbuiy from hen he simply shook his hefid sadly. She could not understand whether he did not believe her, or whether he simply wished that the subject should he dropped. < She coald elicit no sign of affection from him, nor would he willingly accept such from her; but he allowed her to prepare for the journey, and never hinted that his purpose might again be liable to change. On the Friday, Emily with her child, and Hugh with all their baggage, travelled. out on the road to Casalunga, thinking it better that there should be no halt in the town on their return. At Casalunga, Hugh went up the hill with the driver, leaving Mrs. Trevelyan in the carriage. Fa had been out at the house before in the morning,. and. had given all necessary orders;—but still at the last moment he thought that there might be failure.. But Trevelyan was ready, having dressed himself up with a laced shirt, and changed hia.dress ing-gown for a bine frock-coat, and his bro caded cap for a Paris hat, very pointed before and behind, and closely turned up at the sides. But Stanbury did not iu the least care for his friend's drees. "Take my arm," he said, "and we will go down, fair and easy. Emtiy would not come no because of the heat. He suffered himself to be led, or almost car ried down the hill: audihree women, and the coachm an, and an old countryman who worked on the farm, followed with the luggage. It took about an hour and a half to pack the things; but at last they were all packed, and corded, and bound together with sticks, as though it were intended that they should travel in that form to Moscow. Trevelyan the meanwhile sat on a chair which had been brought put for him from one of the cott^es, and nis wife stood beside him with her boy. "Now then we are ready," said Stanbuiy. And in that way they bade farewell to Casa lunga. Trevelyan sat speechless m the car riage. and would not even notice the child. He seemed to be half dreaming, and to fix his eyes on vacancy.' " He appears to think ot nothing now,'r Emily said that evening to Stanbury. But who can Jell how busy and how troubled are the thoughts of a madman!

They had now succeeded in their object of inducing their patient to return with them to England: but what were they .to do with him when they had reached home with him ? They rested only a night at Florence; bnt they found their fellow-traveller so weary, that they were unable to get beyond Bologna on the second day. Many questions were asked of him as to where he tamself would wish to take up his residence in England; but it was found almost .impossible to got an answer. Once be stjgg^t^that he would like to go hack to JiX Fullers cottage at Willesden, from whence they concluded that he would wish to five somewhere oat of Lon don. On his first dayhjoajmpy he was moody

uiMvstMu jr. van Bhin fcn

and would notice nothing that was said, to

him by his wife. H6^pared once that he regarded Stenbuwas his keeper, and en deavoured to be disagreeable and sullenly combative; bnt on the second day he was too weak for tills, and accepted without remon strance the attentions that wetoijaia to him. At Bologna they xestedradayl audjErom thenbe

f uraE homft «ld be taken lb I SKrhood of Mortlake, Richmond, o^tKandthat a telegram as well a

ictter^uonld berent^them at the Paris

J&wwtfthe*gooutheir reach

«»nf nh au&ln. —to Turm, over too mountains

«hd on to

alok msh.

wanted furtherassistanoe, they had hired a courier, aid at last Trevelyan allowed him* self to bec&rriod tn and out of the carriages! and up anddown thehotel stairs, 'almost a* though he were a child. The delay was terribly grievoosto Stanbury, and Mrs. Tre* velya^, jwrceiying this note than ,cmcei hedged mto leave them, and to.allowher to finish the journey with foe aid at the oonrier. Bat this he could do, JECe wrote letters to his friends at the O. R. office, .explaining hit position as, well as he could, anaeuggesttng that this and that* able assistant should en lighten the British people on this and that .subject, which would,—in the course of nature, as arranged at the D. S. office—have

fallen into his hands. He and Mrs. Trevel yari became as brother, and sister to each other on their way home,—as, indeed, it was natural that they should do. Were they doing right or wrong in this journey that they were taking ? They conld not conceal from themselves that the labour wqs almost more than the poor wretch could endure; and that it might be! as he himself suggested, that they would be called ori: to bury him on the roaa. But that residence at Casalnnga had been so terrible,—the circnmstances of it, including the solitude, sickness, madness, and habits of life of the .wretched hermit, had been so dangerous,—the probability of interference on the part of some native authority so great, and the chance of the house being left in Trevelyan's possession so small, that it bad seemed to him that they had no other alternative; and yet, how would it be if they were kiiliti? him by the toil of travelling? From Chambery, they made the journey to Paris in two days, aaa during that time Trevelyan hardly opened his mouth. He slept much, and ate better than he had done in the hotter climate on the other side of the Alps.

They found a telegram at Paris, which simply cont&ined the promise of a letter for the next day. It baa been sent by Nora before she had gone out on her search. But it contained one> morsel of strange infor mation; "Lady Milborongh is going with me." On tbe next day they got a letter, saying that a cottage had been taken, furnished, between Richmond and Twickenham. Lady Mil borough had known of the cottage, ana every thing would be ready then. Nora would . herself meet them at the station in London, if

they would, as she proposed, stay a night at Dover. They were to address to her at Lady

Milborongh's house, in Eccleston-square. In ' (bat case, she would have a carriage for them at the Victoria Station, and would go down with them at once to the cottage.

There were to be two days more of weary travelling, and then they would be at home again. She and he would have a house together as husband and wife, and the curse of their separation would, at any rate, be over. Her mind towards him had changed altogether since the days in which she nad been so indignant because he had set a policeman to watch over her. All feeling of anger was over

with her now. There is nothing that a. woman will not forgive a man, when he is

weaker than is she herself.

The journey was made first to Dover, and then to London. Once, as they were making their way through the Kentish hop-fields, he pat ont his hand feebly, and touched hers. They had the carriage to themselves, and she was down on her knees before him instantly. " Oh, Louis! oh, Lonis! say that you forgive me!" What could a woman do more than that in her mercy to a man?

" Yesyes; yes," he said; "but do not talk now; I am bo tired."