Gowrie; or, the King's Plot.

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER IX.

The moon was clear in the heaven, the skies in which she shone were of that deep intense blue which no European land but Italy or Spain can display; there was an effulgence in her light, which mingled the rays with the deep blue woof of the night heavens so strongly, that the stars themselves seemed vanquished in the strife for the empire of the sky, and looked out but faint and feeble.

In a small arbour covered with vines, on the bank of the stream, sat the lady Julia and her lover. The bright rays of the orb of night floated lightly on the water, changing the dark flowing mass into liquid silver, while a hazy light poured through the olive, the fig, and the vine, giving a faint mysterious aspect to the innumerable trees, and enlivening various spots upon the dull, cold, gray earth, with the yellow radiance of the queen of night.

I believe it is as fruitless as difficult to try to analyse the feelings of the human heart, when that heart is strongly moved by the impulses implanted in it by nature, called into activity by accidental and concurring circumstances. That nature has laid down a rule, and that the heart always acts upon it with more or less energy, according to its original powers, I do strongly believe; but it seems to me fruitless, or at all events but little beneficial, to investigate why certain bosoms, especially those of southern climates, are moved by more warm and eager feelings than others. The operation of man's mind and of his heart are as yet mysteries; and no one who has ever written upon the subject has done more than take the facts as they found them, without at all approaching the causes. We talk of eager love; we speak of the warm blood of the south; we name certain classes of our fellow-beings, excitable, and others, phlegmatic; but we ourselves little understand what we mean when we apply such terms, and never try to dive into the sources of the qualities or the emotions we indicate. We ask not how much is due to education, how much to nature; and never think of the immense sum of co-operating causes which go to form that which is in reality education. Is man or woman merely educated by the lessons of a master, or the instructions and exhortations of a parent? Are not the acts we witness, the words we hear, the scenes with which we are familiar, parts of our education? Is not the Swiss or the Highlander of every land educated in part by his mountains, his valleys, his lakes, his torrents? Is not the inhabitant of cities subjected to certain permanent impressions by the constant presence of crowds and the everlasting pressure of his fellow-men? Does not the burning sun, the arid desert, the hot blast, teach lessons never forgotten, and which become part of nature to one class of men; and frozen plains, and lengthened winters, and long nights, other lessons to the natives of a different region? Give man what instruction you will, by spoken words or written signs, there is another education going on for ever, not only for individuals, but for nations, in the works of God around them, and in the circumstances with which his will has encompassed their destiny.

Perhaps no two people upon earth had ever been educated more differently than the two who sat together in that garden, and yet, strange to say, in the character of each had been produced traits which, while they left a strong distinction, disposed to the most perfect harmony. Gowrie, born amidst rich and wild scenery, had passed his earliest days in troublous and perilous events. Constant activity, manly exercises, dangerous sports, and wild adventures, had been alternated with calm study; and acting on a mind of an inquiring and philosophic turn, and a frame naturally robust, had increased and early matured the powers of each. Thus had passed his days to the age of seventeen, and then a perfect change had taken place in his course of life. Removed to Padua, he had devoted himself for some years solely to the cultivation of his understanding; and had followed eagerly, and with extraordinary success, inquiries not alone into the lore of ancient days, but into those physical sciences which were then known but to a few, and often perilous to the possessor. Love had come at length to complete the education of the heart, just when the education of body and mind was accomplished.

Julia, on the contrary, had been snatched, at a period beyond her memory, from the dangers and difficulties which had surrounded her infancy. She had passed the whole period of early youth in calm and quiet studies, directed to unite every grace and accomplishment with strength of mind and firmness of principle. No tender, no gentle affection had been crushed; her spirit had been embittered by no harshness; her heart had been injured by no disappointment; no rankling memory of any kind was in her bosom, and her affections had been cultivated as well as her understanding. Bright and cheerful, deep-feeling, and true by nature, a sense of duty had been given her as a guide and not a tyrant; and her attachments and her enjoyments, limited to a very small sphere, had gained intensity from their concentration upon few objects.

And there they now sat, side by side, with her hand locked in his, telling and hearing the tale of the first great griefs which she had ever known. Youth forms but a faint idea of mortality till the dark proofs are placed tangibly before its eyes. We know that those we love must die; but hope still removes the period, and draws a veil over the terrors of death. She had sometimes sat and thought of it--especially when her old relation had pointed out that the great enemy of the mortal frame was approaching more and more closely to himself--but she had never been able to realize the grim features as they appeared to her now, when she had seen them near; and now, when she spoke of the loss of him in whom, for so many years, all her feelings and her thoughts had centered, she leaned her head upon Gowrie's shoulder, and the tears flowed fast.

It was natural--it was very natural that she should cling with but the stronger affection to him who now sat beside her. The first strong love of woman's heart had been given to him, and that is intense and absorbing enough; but he was now the only one; there was no partition of affection with any other being in the world; neither brothers nor sisters, nor parents nor friends, shared her thoughts or divided her attachment. The cup of love was full to the brim. Not one drop had been spilt; and it was all his own.

Nor were his feelings less intense towards her, though different; for man's part is ever different in the great moving passion of youth. To protect, to defend, to befriend, is his allotted portion of the compact between man and woman; and to feel that he was all in all to her, that she had none to look to but him, that then and for ever her fate rested on his power and his will, that his arm must be her stay, his spirit her guide, his love her consolation, rendered the deep passion which her beauty, her grace, her gentleness first kindled, but the more warm and ardent. It was pure, and high, and noble, too. He forgot not at that moment the promises which Manucci had exacted from him. He proposed not to himself or her to break them. He told her all that had passed; and though he expressed regret that such delay must interpose before he could call her his own, and showed how much easier, safer, and happier their course would be, if she could at once give him her hand at the altar, yet he expressed no desire at that time to deviate from the conduct pointed out. Pledged to follow it, it seemed to him but as a road traced on a map, which, though circuitous, would lead in the end to happiness, and from which they could not turn aside without losing their way entirely. It was only how they could best tread that path that they considered; and there, indeed, much was to be thought of and provided for. The first object was to place the fair girl in safety; for although a sad smile came upon her countenance at the absurdity of the accusation, when she spoke of the suspicions entertained against her, yet those were days when innocence was no safeguard, and the unreasonableness of a charge was no security. The only course to be followed seemed that which had been pointed out by the boatman, Mantini--namely, to ascend the river as rapidly as possible, without venturing into the Venetian territory, and then to pass straight through Piedmont and France, to England.

"We shall have time enough, as we go, dear girl," said the young earl, "to examine the papers which your grandfather gave me, and to judge what our course must be when we reach Scotland. The first thing to be thought of, however, is security, and therefore we had better set out by daybreak. Doubtless, my good man Austin can procure a couple of horses before that time, and if not, two of those which bear the baggage must carry a saddle, and the packages follow by some other conveyance."

"I will be ready when you bid me," replied Julia, "and do what you bid me, Gowrie; but there was one injunction which he whom I have lost, laid upon me, when he told me to accompany you to Scotland. He bade me engage some women to go with me as servants, saying that it might seem strange if I journeyed with you all alone.--I know not why it should seem strange," she continued, raising her eyes to his face; "for whom have I to trust in but you? and who, but you, has any right to protect and guide me?"

Gowrie smiled, and kissed the fair small hand he held in his; but he answered at once, "He was very right, dear Julia. It would seem strange; and men might make comments more painful even to me than to you. The harsh, hard world neither sees, nor tries to see, men's hearts; but wherever there is the opportunity of evil, supposes that evil exists. Our poor friend was right; maids you shall have to go with you; but it is impossible to engage them here: nor, indeed, would it be prudent to attempt it. At Mantua, or Piacenza, we shall be more free to act; and in the meantime I will tell good old Mr. Rhind of the exact situation in which we are placed, to prevent him from coming to any wrong conclusions--I mean the gentleman who sat next Sir John Hume at supper; he was formerly my tutor, and will return with us to England."

"Oh, yes; tell him--tell him," replied the lady, eagerly. "He gazed at me often during the meal, and I felt the colour coming to my cheek, I knew not why. It seemed as if he doubted me, and did not like my presence with you."

"Nay, it is not exactly so," replied her lover. "He is a good and gentle-minded man, only somewhat too much a slave to the world's opinion. As soon, however, as he knows all, he will be quite satisfied, and aid us to the best of his power. And now, dear Julia, seek your rest; for you will have but little time to repose; and we must make quick journeys and long ones till danger is left behind."

The earl did not calculate altogether rightly upon Mr. Rhind's ready acquiescence. Whether it was that he had been suddenly awakened in the midst of his sleep by the landlord lighting the tapers in the eating hall, or whether it was that the portion of wine he had taken, though not sufficient to affect his intellect, had been enough to affect his temper, I cannot tell; but certain it is, that he assumed a tone with his former pupil which roused some feelings of anger.

"I wish to speak with you, my lord," he said, as soon as Lord Gowrie entered the room alone.

"And I with you, my dear sir," answered the young earl. "What is it you desire to say?"

"Why, there is something very strange here, my lord," said the other, while Gowrie seated himself. "You are suddenly and unexpectedly, as it seems, joined by a young woman of very great beauty, with whom you are evidently very well and intimately acquainted, but whom I have never seen or heard of before. Now, my dear lord, neither my character nor my principles will permit me----"

"Stop one moment," said the earl, interrupting him. "I wish to guard against your saying anything that may be offensive to me, and which you would yourself regret hereafter. Already you have used the term 'young woman,' when you should have said 'young lady,' for her manners, as well as her appearance, should have taught you what her station is. However, as I came here to explain to you my own position and hers, I may as well go on, and save you needless questions. She is a lady of birth equal to my own, with whom, as you say, I am well acquainted, and have been so long. She is plighted to me to be my bride; and but for the loss of her nearest, and indeed only kinsman in this country, I should have gone on to find and claim her at Padua, and would there have introduced you to her under more favourable circumstances."

He paused in thought for a moment, doubtful as to whether he should tell Mr. Rhind the absurd suspicions under which her whom he loved had fallen; for he knew his good tutor well, and did not believe that those suspicions would appear so ridiculous in the eyes of his companion as they were in his own.

Mr. Rhind, however, instantly took advantage of his silence to reply. "What you tell me, my lord, alarms me more than ever. What will your lady mother--what will all your friends and relations think of your marrying a strange Italian--a runaway, as it seems, from her home and her family, a follower, of course, of Popish superstitions and idolatries, a worshipper of the beast, a disciple of the antiChrist of Rome? I must desire and insist----"

"You will insist upon nothing with me, Mr. Rhind," replied Gowrie, in a low, but somewhat stern tone. "Pray do not forget yourself; but remember that your authority over my actions has long ceased to exist--had, indeed, ceased before I made this lady's acquaintance. Old friendship, respect for your virtues, and personal affection, may induce me to condescend so far as to give you explanations of my conduct and my purposes; but it must be upon the condition that you lay aside that tone altogether."

Mr. Rhind found that he had gone a little too far; but yet he did not choose altogether to abandon his purpose, and he replied, "Well, my lord, my part can very soon be taken. It is true, as you say, that you are your own master; but still I have a duty to you and to your family to perform, which I must and will fulfil, and, having done so, we can then part upon our several ways if you think fit. That duty is to represent to you the consequences of a course----"

"Of which you know nothing," answered the earl, "being utterly and entirely ignorant of the whole facts, and assuming a number of positions, every one of which is false. Your logic and your prudence have both failed you, my good sir; and as you still speak in a tone I dislike, I think it will be much better to drop a discussion which seems only likely to end in a diminution of both my respect and my friendship."

"You are very hard upon me, my lord," replied Mr. Rhind. "I am not conscious of having deserved such treatment, and all I can say is, if I have done so, I am ready to make any atonement in my power, as soon as you show me that such is the case."

"That I can show you instantly," answered Lord Gowrie; "for I am sorry to say that you have undoubtedly erred in every one of your conclusions, and should have known me better than to suppose that I would act in a manner derogatory to my character, to my station, and to the faith in which I have been brought up."

"The passions of young men," said Mr. Rhind, gravely, "will often lead them to act contrary even to their own judgment."

"I might reply to that observation somewhat severely," said the earl, conquering a strong inclination to retaliate; "but I will not do so, and will merely show you, how you have suffered prejudice to warp your own judgment. You have said the lady is an Italian. On the contrary, she is my own countrywoman, the daughter of a house as noble as my own. You have said that she is a papist, a worshipper of the beast, a follower of the antichrist of Rome. These are harsh words, sir; and they are all false. She is a protestant. Her father was a protestant, her mother, her grandfather. As to the latter, by whom she was educated, he was driven from his native country on account of his testimony against the superstitious vanities of that very church of Rome--do not interrupt me.--You have said that she is a runaway from her family and friends. There you are as much in error as in all the rest. She has fled to me, on the death of her only surviving relation in this country, to escape persecution; and one of the principal charges upon which that persecution is founded, is that she could never be brought to attend upon the superstitious observance of confession, or ask absolution at the hands of a mortal like herself. And now, my good sir, having heard the facts, let me tell you my intentions. I have undertaken to escort this young lady back to her native country of Scotland; to claim for her, and if possible to restore to her the estates of which she has been unjustly deprived; and I have promised to make her my wife at the end of about twelve months from this time. All this I will perform to the letter. Nay more, I should conceive it a duty, in the situation in which she is placed, to urge her at once to give me her hand, had I not bound myself solemnly to refrain till the period I have mentioned is past. This promise I will also keep, though in keeping it I render the rest of the task I have undertaken more delicate and difficult; but of course I shall consider it a duty to take every means in my power, by all tokens of outward reverence and respect, to shield her, not only from reproach but from suspicion, while travelling under my protection to her native land. You may aid me to do so if you will, and in so doing, I believe you will be performing a Christian act; but still, if after what I have said you entertain any hesitation, I do not press you to do so, and leave you to act perfectly as you think fit."

Mr. Rhind had bent down his head, feeling, with a good deal of bitterness, that he had placed himself greatly in the wrong; and that although he might still entertain great objections to the course which the young earl was determined to pursue, and be anxious to urge upon him considerations to which he attached great importance, his arguments would seem weak and without force, after the injustice of his first conclusions had been so completely proved. There was a little struggle in his breast between mortified vanity and the consciousness of having shown himself rash and prejudiced; but various prudential considerations arrayed themselves on the side of humility, and he answered, in a low and deprecatory tone, "I grieve most sincerely that I have done the young lady wrong; and I rejoice most sincerely, my lord, to find that whatever other objections may exist, your affections have been fixed upon one so sincerely attached to the protestant faith. My only apprehension now is, as to what your lady mother may think of such an engagement entered into without her knowledge and consent."

"Leave me to deal with my mother, my dear sir," replied the earl; "I know her better than you do, and entertain no fear of the result. She is far too wise a woman to assume authority where she possesses none, but that which affection and reverence give her. Nay, more, she is too kind and too noble not to approve of what I have done and what I intend to do, when she finds that no reasonable objection stands in the way of my affection, and that the object of my love is in herself worthy of it. Do I understand you right that it is your purpose to bear me company as heretofore, and to assist me in escorting this young lady to her own land with decency and propriety?"

"Most assuredly, my dear lord," replied Mr. Rhind, "if you will accept my services; and I do hope and trust that you will not mention to the young lady the prejudices I somewhat rashly entertained, for it might lose me her favour, and make her look upon me as an enemy instead of a friend."

Lord Gowrie smiled, and gave him his hand, saying, "Make your mind quite easy on that score. I will make no mischief, my dear sir. And now we had better all perhaps seek repose, as it will be needful for us to set off by daylight to-morrow, and to alter our whole course, taking the way towards Piacenza, as I dare not cross any part of the Venetian territory, lest my beautiful Julia should fall into the hands of the hateful Inquisition."

"God forbid!" exclaimed Mr. Rhind, to whom the Inquisition was an object of the utmost terror and abhorrence. "If she run such risks for conscience sake, well may the dear lady merit the love and reverence of all good men."

The treaty of peace thus concluded, the earl and his former tutor parted for the night; and Gowrie proceeded to inquire what had become of Hume, and to ascertain the result of Austin Jute's efforts to procure horses for their journey of the following day.