Sleep I could not; my brain was in a whirl, as the events of yesterday crossed my mind in fast succession; all, or any, being sufficiently exciting to stamp the day adventurous to a novice like myself, just started on the world. But one engrossing recollection obliterated all the rest, and the picture and supper-scene occupied my thoughts exclusively.
As I pondered on the singular resemblance between the figures in the painting and those of Isidora and “mine host,” my eyes involuntarily rested on the arms which hung above the mantel-pieee. The sabre and pistols rivetted my attention. They were the very identical weapons with which the corsair in the picture was accoutred! Hartley’s eulogy upon the sword, and the boast of his former prowess, confirmed the belief, that though a “worthy Thane” at present, there was a period when his calling was but indifferent, and himself, “if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked.” Just then I heard a gentle tap, and Dominique made his appearance to ascertain how far I had benefited by his leech-craft, and if necessary, to assist me at my toilet.
“Your master, Dominique, went early abroad to-day.”
“Yes, sir. He had business at some short distance from the house, but he will not delay long. How much better your wounds look than could have been expected from their appearance last night!” and the negro embrocated my bruises again. “Pray, do you know, sir, any of the persons who assailed you on the road?”
“Not I, in faith. From what I can collect, I was mistaken for another.”
“It was a bad blunder for you; but, all considered, you have escaped wonderfully. It was very doubtful whether you could have left your room this morning; and Miss Isidora begs to know whether you will have breakfast in your chamber, or venture to the parlour.”
“To the parlour, certainly.” Up I sprang, dressed rapidly, and following the sable functionary to the end of the corridor; he pointed to the drawing-room door, bowed, left me, and I entered.
The room was still untenanted, and, to all appearance, precisely as I had left it the preceding night. Reckless of the confusion it had already caused, I determined to satisfy my curiosity again, and take a second peep at the mysterious picture. From the doorway the massive frame was visible, for my eyes had turned involuntarily to the place where my thoughts had already wandered. I walked on and stood before the painting.‘Twas passing strange; there was the frame, but both lady and corsair had vanished; and the parting scene of love had changed to one of vengeance. How opposite the subject, too—Blue Beard about to shorten Fatima by the head, for being over curious, like myself, in a strange house and on a first visit. Was this pointed as a hint to me? I’faith, it looked very like it, but, before I could determine whether the painting was designed to convey this silent lesson, a light step behind announced the presence of Isidora. She had entered from the adjoining room unperceived, and came to tell me that breakfast waited.
All things considered, the meal passed over with less embarrassment than might have been expected from a tête à tête between two novices like us, who had parted in the unpromising manner we had done the night before. Although timid as one unacquainted with the world will naturally be when she is first addressed by a stranger, Isidora’s was the diffidence of maiden modesty rather than mauvais honte; while I, appertaining to that numerous class intituled “bashful Irishmen,” mustered my small stock of assurance, as I whispered to myself old Chapman’s lines—
“Ah! crrared sheep’s-head, hast thou liv’d thus long,