My dear Mrs. Travers: I feel much distressed and mortified in that I fear you must have considered me ungrateful, and wanting in politeness; but you will, I trust, now pardon the silence I have been compelled to observe towards you. It is time I should inform you that I am already married. Such, however, being the case, remember it is yourself who have constrained me to this step, by your indecision. But we will no longer speak of the past. May I hope that being made aware of my marriage will not prevent your still preserving for me that same friendship you have ever accorded to one who will never cease most deeply to appreciate it. For my part, I should be truly delighted once more to meet you, because I still feel for you a profound affection; having once loved you intensely and passionately. I am thankful that your health is re-established. Saluting you a thousand times, I am as ever your true friend,
Giovanni, Duca di Balzano.
“See, Mary,” said poor Evelyn, handing me the letter with a melancholy smile, “it is my sad doom to lose all I love, all that have loved me!”
We heard later that Balzano’s marriage had originated first, as is the custom in Italy, in the wishes of the respective families of the young people, the duke being averse to the connexion. Balzano was thus necessarily much thrown into the society of the young lady, who became deeply attached to him—so much so, that perceiving his indifference she took it so seriously to heart that consumption threatened. Balzano, ever compassionate and unselfish, pitied the girl, and not having for months had any tidings of his former betrothed, consented at last to the wishes of his friends, backed by the advice of the priests. A marriage was arranged; singularly enough, it was not till his return from church, on the morning of the wedding, that Evelyn’s letter of acceptance was placed in his hands—thus may the three months’ silence, on his part, he accounted for.
Meanwhile, D’Arcy’s letters came almost every mail; they were partly to Evelyn, partly to Ella; and were answered conjointly by both. Ella would have deferred the marriage indefinitely, in consequence of the bad news from Naples; but her mother would not suffer the subject even to be alluded to: “My child,” she said, “let us leave the future to Providence, patiently awaiting the accomplishment of our destiny.”
CHAPTER XXV.
THE BARONET
Among the crowd of English sojourning in Paris this winter, there was an old acquaintance of ours—a certain Sir Percy Montgomery, Bart., late M. P. for ——shire. Some six years ago, when in London, Sir Percy had visited Evelyn, and we had dined occasionally at his house in Grosvenor Street. Indeed, the Baronet had been at that time a warm though unsuccessful admirer of our heroine. Sir Percy was, in appearance, a perfect “John Bull”—that is to say, he possessed a countenance rubicund and somewhat flat, with no very marked features—figure stout—burly—broad-shouldered—thick set, you perceived at a glance that the animal nature preponderated in the man; nevertheless, the square and rather massive forehead displayed intellect, and the fine teeth, seen to advantage in a pleasant jovial smile of not unfrequent occurrence, rendered the personal appearance of our friend, if somewhat coarse, not altogether unpleasing. Let not my readers, however, imagine that the “John-Bull” type is the true type of our countrymen. They will, on referring to a former chapter of this work, find the portrait of an accomplished English gentleman, in our delineation of the young and aristocratic Melville. We have there depicted elegance, manliness and chivalry, in combination with the splendid physical development, only to be seen in perfection in the Anglo-Saxon race. But, to return. Sir Percy was by no means wanting in brains. He had made some sensation in Parliament; and, having had the tact to speak on the popular side of each question, his fluency was greatly appreciated, and he had thus acquired a higher reputation than his (not first rate) talents perhaps merited. So the Times wondered when he resigned his seat; and the Herald and other Tory papers were open in their rather uncharitable surmises, as to the motives for so sudden and untimely a retreat in the late M. P.
Sir Percy, having discovered our address at Galignani’s, lost no time in paying his respects to Evelyn, and continued his visits from time to time. Evelyn soon named him my adorer, and said it would not be such a bad match; the baronet was of a good family, and reputed rich, though, as some asserted, rich in debts alone. He had, at least, talent, and if I did not object to his lack of personal beauty, and his fifty years, she added, I might do worse than become Lady Montgomery. Ever occupied with receiving and replying to D’Arcy’s frequent letters, or in reading, talking and practising with Ella, my friend paid but slight attention to a former admirer—for whom she had never felt even a passing gleam of sympathy—until one day she received from him a rather melancholy letter; making her in some sort a confidante, the writer threw out dark hints of debts and difficulties which had exiled him from his native land, and adverted mysteriously to envious political rivals, who were endeavoring to work his ruin, and who had, alas! succeeded in putting a present stop to a career which would have otherwise shortly ended in the Cabinet. Much changed for the better, since her acquaintance with Philip D’Arcy, and somewhat hurt and humiliated by the unexpected marriage of di Balzano, our heroine opened her heart in pity for the baronet’s misfortunes; had not she, too, suffered from envious tongues? had not slander been to her as “the worm which never dieth?” Cruel, cruel world! thou art indeed a hard master—offend against thy laws—break thy one commandment “Thou shalt not be found out” and thou art utterly without pity, even to the exclusion of all repentance;—cruel, cruel world! And so Evelyn took compassion on the injured man, and invited him oftener, and sympathized with his griefs, and was in every way kind to him. Thus did circumstances favor his suit.