These words were uttered aloud, of course in the English language, but as Mrs. Cleveland glanced at the improvisatore to judge by his face whether he merited the epithets given him, she again saw a sudden flush tinge the paleness of his cheek. Raphael stepped forward, as if to help her into the carriage, for her foot was already on the step, and again in low tones breathed the words "Do not go," but this time in English, though with an accent quite Italian.
Mrs. Cleveland started, and would have drawn back; but Horace at that moment almost lifted her into the carriage, and sprang in after her with a quickness which gave his nervous mother hardly time to think or to breathe.
"Horace—I can't go—I won't go—stop the driver—we will get out!" gasped the lady.
"Mother, it is nonsense; you will make us the laughing-stock of the place!" exclaimed Horace, who had caught sight of a leer upon the face of the one-eyed man, which had strengthened his suspicions as to the character of the low little inn in the mountains.
The driver cracked his whip, and the jingle of the horses' bells was heard as they moved forward on the white, dusty road.
The conscience of Horace smote him a little for the rudeness of his manner and words. "You know, mother," he said, in a softer tone, "that I must care for your comfort and safety."
"Comfort!" exclaimed Mrs. Cleveland with indignation. "Willful, ungrateful boy that you are, you never care for anything but your own selfish fancies!" And exhausted in strength, and wounded in feeling, the irritated mother burst into a flood of tears.
"Mother, I can't stand this!" exclaimed Horace, in extreme vexation at seeing her weep.
"You have planted many a thorn in my pillow," sobbed the lady; "you may find them one day on your own!"
Horace could not answer. His heart seemed to be rising into his throat. He pulled his cap low over his eyes, and leaned back in the corner of the carriage, wishing, with all his soul, that he had never come on the journey. He had been accustomed to chidings and reproaches, but not to tears, and each drop seemed to fall upon his heart like a drop of molten lead.