Rich and Rare, a tale of Anglo-Italian life

Front matter

[Second Edition.] In 2 Vols. Price 21s. FORSAKING ALL OTHERS, Bt EMMA PICKERING. "The plot is well carried out. and will please all readers who appreciate a pleasant tale." — Bell's Messenger. "Every character in the book is a photograph of nature."— Telegraph. An interesting, sensible, and pathetic story."— Morning Adver tiser. "A veritable picture of country domestic life, eiually moral in its tendencies, and as true to Nature as were the works of Miss Mitford and Miss Austen." — Brighton Examiner. "Presents several striking features, and teaches a useful lesson." —Liverpool Albion. " An exceedingly interesting tale." — Sussex Advertiser. " Had the portraits of Alice and Frances been produced on canvass by the pencil of Salvator Rosa, they would not have been more cor rectly defined to the mind's eye than by the graphic pen of Miss E. Pickering." — Scarborough Mercury.

" The story of Alice's Forsaking All Others is one of no ordinary beauty, and the hardest heart must pity her troubles." — John B':ll. " Worthy of commendation for several reasons. The tale is admir ably told ; it is full of incident, and the authoress writes with much vigour and excellent taste. Many of the passages are remarkable for their beauty."— Brighton Gazette. [Second Edition.] In 2 Vols. 21s. OLD TIMES REVIVED By FRANK TROLLOPE. ' A pleasant, well-told tale." — Liverpool Albion. " Brimful of interest." — Evening Post, " If it be not as anxiously enquired for as were Sir Walter ScoU's 'Ivanboe' and ' The Talisman,' it will not be from lack of equal interest. 'Old Times Revived' will stand out in bold relief, and be read and talked about and remembered when tbe great bulk of novels published will be forgotten."— Scarborough Mercury.

" The tale of stirring adventuro coutained in these two volumes will be read with no ordinary interest, and the descriptive powers of Mr. Trollope are brought into play in nearly every page. The book may be confidently recommended." — John Bull. " A romance of the past, full of incident and interest pleasantly written. A model for all times. It may be put into the hands of young people without reserve.'' — Westminster Gazette. " ' Old Times Revived' comes nearer the best works of Sir Walter Scott than the whole host of his imitators have hitherto been able to accomplish." — Brighton Examiner. In 3 Vols. 31b. 6d. P E C C A V I ! OR, GEOFFREY SINGLETON'S MISTAKE. Br ARTHUR GRIFFITHS, CAPTAIN 63kd REGIMENT. "The style is good, being both unaffected and vigorous. The barrack scenes are admirably given, and will be thoroughly relished by men conversant with military liie.

Chapter I. Tivoli

Agatina had gone to Mrs. Laurence's un fortunate reception with a heart full of affection. Most of her fear for the future had given place to confidence in her English lover's character, and distrust in those about her who were hostile to him. One of the chief things which had led her to this point was a circumstance which would have in fluenced but very few of her sex, viz., the faith in Wolfe of a poor wretched beggar. VOL. II. B EICH AND BARE. This beggar was Agnese ; but she had in the space of two or three days been exalted into the position of friend to one of the highest born women in Italy. Agatina occupied the day after she went to the wretched home of her protegee with Mr. Hammond in finding out and fitting up a comfortable room for her habitation; in it were to be found the amenities of life for a poor person — nay, more, some of its luxuries, for the Marchesa had chosen pretty flowers and a sunny aspect, with a little balcony, to gladden the monotonous days of the unloved creature, and had gone twice or thrice to see her.

Strange to say, though bewildered with her lady's goodness, as the cripple called her, and at the change in her destiny, she no sooner saw the Marchesa coming than she asked for the Englishman. He was connected in her mind with the first dawn of happiness, and with the Marchesa's presence, from that hour, the simple mind connected the one with the other. At the time this delighted Agatina, and the hunchback's blind adoption of the English man as a person " as good as the saints," went a long way to strengthen her own faith in him. Is it not very true that our greatest and strongest convictions of the heart hang upon the weakest hairs of evidence ? After a great while of reflective leisure, she had determined to set Wolfe at rest upon the future of his life. On the Thursday of the reception Mrs. Mervyn called at the Palazzo, and told the.

Princess Mastari, and her relation, that Mrs. Laurence was very anxious to make their acquaintance, and that she would be at home to them in the Santa Croce, if they would honour her with their company. Agatina found some difficulty in persuad ing the Zia to go, but finally achieved her object, aud it was arranged. It seemed a fortunate opportunity to satisfy herself com pletely by acquaintance with the Laurences that Wolfe had been simply a visitor to B them. She never for a moment thought of meeting him there, for he had told her that he seldom visited now, as his friend had not been treated well by Mrs. Laurence. With the expectation of such a veiy dif ferent programme for her evening's amusement, and of clearing up all shadow of doubt, the events which took place, and the aspect of affairs, had struck upon her with a force double that which they otherwise would have had.

At the very moment she entered, to find Wolfe seated between Mrs. and Miss Laurence, both apparently angry with each other and him, and all the people remarking very freely about his relationship with them, and its inexplicability, would have startled any Italian, even less impressionable than the Marchesa. Then the words she had distinctly heard Mrs. Laurence say were enough in themselves to unsettle her belief, however much she ad mitted to herself that they might have been only exaggerated expressions of anger. The worst feature in the case was the ridicule which attached to any man from even a sus picion of flirtation with such a very unlove able-looking lady; even the repute of such a rivalry would have offended any English lady, and was far too strong for an Italian to bear. Yet, Agatina was more puzzled and dis couraged than angry ; the echo of Wolfe's heart which she had heard in the words on the Colonna balcony, still rang in her ear, and could not be entirely stifled by any im pressions of a moment.

Nevertheless, the whole fabric she had been building for herself out of his love seemed shaken to the foundation ; and from the moment she had appeared in the Salon of the Santa Croce she feared to enter in and dwell there. When the Prince Portinari came to her and offered his arm, she had taken it more to give herself time to think than to show that she was offended with Wolfe. The Italian recognised his opportunity, and was not slow to profit by it ; relating a very highly-coloured version of the scene, and of Mr. Hammond's part in it. Agatina saw that he hated him, and did not believe his account of the affair, but knew that there had been sufficient foundation for him to build his story upon, and it grieved her. As for dancing with the handsome Italian, she did it to escape from his conversation ; and seeing her aunt ready to leave the room felt a relief.

It was painful to notice how Wolfe followed her about the room with his eyes, and she almost wished to go to him, but then only to tell him that she distrusted him, though, to speak the whole truth, loved him at the same time. It was a very dangerous moment that in the cloak-room, for, as the mantle was placed upon her shoulders, she felt that the arms which held it were very dear, and yet would be, perhaps, as a stranger's henceforth. In deed, their magnetism lasted all the way down the stairs, as she descended with the Porti nari, and till she was safely seated in the carriage, was not sure of herself — not sure that her Mediterranean impulse would not carry her up the stairs back to him in spite of all pride and doubt. The Zia Mastari had rejoiced at her cousin's misfortune, or, at least, at the disgrace the Englishman had fallen into.

" What a strange scandal, Prince," she said to the Portinari. " Mine eyes are used to such ; I have seen them often in the same house." " And why did you not tell us ?" " Of what use to say ill of the Englishman — the Marchesa's friend? — she would not listen." " Is it not so, carina. Were we not in the right ?" Agatina had hurtled herself up into the corner of the carriage, and thought but little of what they said. " There was nothing to affright you so, Zia. What has the Signor done ? Is not the young girl to be the bride of his friend ?" " It was to the shame of all the guests that he had bent the knee to the mother's fortune." " It is not true, Zia. Have I not seen her, the grotesque inamorata, at the Veglione? Do I not know that he has avoided her ?" The Marchesa would fight for him now, for were they not both his foes, and none there to defend him ?

" It is vain then to expect reason of you, Agatina? but you will now be more cau tious." " Marchesa, you will not find so much de votion in the stranger as a Roman has." " Principe," answered Agatina, " if I had seen you where Mr. Hammond was, and heard of you what they say of him, I should have believed. I do not now." " It is unjust, Nina, it is cruel," said the Mastari. Agatina was already very sorry for the warmth of the speech, but it had been said and meant, and already the wheels of the carriage were awakening the echoes of the Palazzo court-yard. The Marchesa knew well enough when she arose the next day that she would see or hear from the Englishman. She felt quite sure of all sorts of explanations from him, and that probably they would be satisfactory ; yet still she tried to harden her heart not to receive them, and the process was very painful.

The hand-maiden brought up her coffee and morning's bread, but it lay for a long time untouched. The Marchesa, to give her self repose from the heated controversy within between those sworn enemies, doubt and yearning, read in her favourite book, her Dante, but the lines of Terza Rima did not sing well in tune. She felt at the moment like a spirit within the second circle, cast hither and thither by the great stress, buffeted to and fro by the wind of the conflict, while before her in the future lay perchance, promotion to the grey limbo above, no hope and no pleasure ahead. A knock came to the door, it was the Principessa. '" Agatina," she said, " Leo wishes to drink the mountain air at Tivoli." B Agatina knew that one of the turning points had come ; if she went there would be no possibility of her seeing Wolfe that day, and if she did not see him the fate of their rela tionship would be settled.

He would write ; but can ink or paper say what the human face and voice can? If she saw him she could not be certain of any result; if she only heard she knew that it would never be sufficient to restore her confidence. " You will yield to Leo's wish, and come with us, carina?" " My absence will not hinder your enjoy ment, Zia," answered Agatina, busily tying the stem of a beautiful hyacinth in the window. " Most completely will it do so, and then if you come not will they not say that you vex yourself for what occurred ?" " Who will say so, Zia ?" " The Portinari, who also is to go, and my husband." " And if I also go and the Principe's so ciety wearies me and makes me silent, will he not also say that it is from grief?" " You do grieve, carina, you have not yet eaten ; the Englishman never was worthy of a Castellano's love, and after such a scena."

" Let him be, Zia, what has he done ? and if I am sorrowful as you will have it, may I also not rest ?" " Surely, child — surely ; but it will do you good to come — the day is calm — there is no wind." The Marchesa saw a way out of immediate decision by going to Tivoli. It was a middle course, and prolonged the uncertainty, but left hope still looking in at the window, against which the door was barred. At the family breakfast at eleven o'clock, Agatina appeared clad in her out-door ap parel ; she was going. " If any one calls," she said to Pietro, " be you there to answer, and say that I am gone for the day to the country." The drive was long, and the way beautiful ; the sun danced merrily over the tombs of the Campagna, and built up again the ruined out lines of the once Imperial city behind ; but it was all rather weary with Agatina, who seemed as if she was where she ought not to be ; as if viewing the country at the expense of her Happiness ; and every mile they passed along drew her away from her natural friend and ally.

The Portinari was very careful not to annoy her with his attentions, for he understood pretty well how things were, but nevertheless paid them covertly, and tried to make her feel that at hand lay the neglected gold, while her mind was roving back to the absent dross. At Tivoli, while they wandered about, the Mastari and his wife left her to the Port inari's care ; though Agatina made many attempts to keep up with them, they managed always to disappear, so the most of the day she found herself nearly alone with the enemy of Wolfe. Cesare knew all the sights to be seen, and explained, in a quiet and agreeable voice, the different remains of the temples and villas worth seeing. In the Villa of Mæcenas they had lost the Mastari. Agatina waited some time, and then turning towards the lovely cascade, sat down till they should return.

It made her very sad — that surging, swel ling, falling water seeming to cry as if in pain for the memory of the day at the cascade near the Colonna. Yet the scene was more picturesque and the earth seemed more glad than on that still evening ; also the leaves and buds were there more daring, sheltered in such a warm nest of the blue hills. Seeing the Marchesa did not speak, but listened always to the lonely wail of the grey Tiverone, the Prince Cesare took himself off to a little distance, and smoked. The river ran along, "and jumped over bravely, without pause, without rest, without break. Agatina saw the little branches from the upland whirling along, as if in a hurry to be swamped in the cascade pool. Some arrived singly, and plunged over sadly ; others entangled their fibres in those of a stronger, and together passed over the leap more fear lessly.

The Italian girl could not help likening her future life without the bright faced Saxon to the course and ending of the withered branch which fell into the chaos of waters alone. It still was in her power to grasp the stronger stem, and together drift along to sink into eternity. She would take the night to think again of it. That much the moaning and soughing of the waterfall had accom plished, to say nothing of the dislike she ex perienced for the way in which the Portinari was dogging her footsteps, languishing his large black eyes even as he smoked. Then, too, the cousins were aggravating to thrust upon her an unwelcome lover, just because the one who would have been welcome was in disgrace. " Amid, you sit as though you had quar relled," said Leo, as he came to where they were. " We are not interested in one another enough to quarrel, Zia, is it not so, Principe ?" answered the Marchesa, who was really angry at their prolonged absence, " If it had been the Signor Hammond the distance were not so wide," replied Mde.

Mastari. " Zia, your frendship causes you to forget that I am your guest, and alone." " Do not fight for me, Principessa, it is worse than vain." " Agatina, I am sorry." The lips said the words, but not the mind ; and the Zia kissed her cousin, for she did not like to see her grieved, though frankly she had begun to hate Wolfe with active hatred, not the passive dislike she had hitherto suffered.

Chapter II. Treachery

The Signora Mastari was as good woman as she and her class of soul understand the word. She would never have harmed person or creature she liked, and disliked but few things or people in the world, so her duty to her neigh bour had never been subjected to very severe trials. In some ways it was fulfilled in a manner exemplary and edifying, such as the giving of alms, and the visiting of those sick whom her confessor directed her to regard. Her duty to her Creator was the strong point, according to the light she had received, never missing mass nor prayer, fast nor vigil. In St. John of Lateran she was to be found at all hours in which the devout attend, and even had prayed up the long twenty-seven steps of the Holy Stairs, to the immense abridgment of her projected visit to purgatory. Her faith, too, was great and unquestioning.

In the Lateran is that strange picture of the Madonna, which appears to close the eyes at near approach, and raise them pleadingly when the observer moves away. The Prin cess had no doubt that the eyes did open ; it had been in vain that her husband pointed out how standing on one side the device could be easily understood, how the shadow thrown from the brow upon the shut eyelids took the form and depth of the open eye. She reverenced and loved her husband, but for her he was more a straying son of the Church than a liberal and enlightened man who reverenced religion and even the creed to which he belonged, but wished to expunge from her fold those errors which disgraced her. He had won her over to view the temporal power of the Popes with negative approval, but had no authority to disturb her faith in the manifestation of the miraculous regard of the Blessed Lady of the Lateran.

Such was the Italian who had espoused the cause of Portinari, in re Marchesa Agatina Castellano, versus Wolfe Hammond, Esq., and in this partizanship her character was about to sustain a severe shock. The long drive home was silent and gloomy, some of the party sleeping the road over as best they could ; Agatina did not shorten her voyage in this way. It was very late when they got to the Palazzo, and she went to her own room direct, Pietro met her. "The Signor has been here, Eccellenza," he said, " and wished to return this evening, but not knowing if the Marchesa would receive, I knew not what to answer." " Why not have said what was the case ? the journey is far, and it would have been too late; then to-morrow he will be here ?" " Or write, Eccellenza, the Signor was agi tated, he demanded where the Marchesa was gone, and with whom."

" And you said — " "That no one, save the young Principe, had joined the party." A letter lay on the table, it was from Wolfe, but, as she expected, it was not as strong to convince as the tones of his voice. Before undressing herself, Agatina went to her desk, and began a long confession to her diary of her troubles and doubts; it was her sole confidante, for, unlike the generality of her nation, she did not yield up her thoughts as soon as they were born to the nursing of any beloved friend. The female Orestes in her case was repre sented by a thick volume, secured by lock and key, and in it her eye and mind could read again, with pity, scorn, or sympathy, the various phases of good or bad, romantic delu sion, enthusiastic expectation, or practical re sults and disappointments, through which she had passed.

The Marchesa had not been long at her writing when the Zia came into the room — " Still up, carina," she said ; " has not fatigue sent you to bed ?" " It is my habit always to write before sleeping." " I am come to talk to you a little, will you listen ?" " As long as you wish to speak." " It is of your liking for the English gentle man ; Agatina, do not think more of him, I ask it for your and all our sakes." " In what does it affect the sake of anyone except my own ?" " In that a slight has been offered to one of the name by a person unknown to the world — in that it will be said that your liking was stronger than your pride — in that — " " It is enough, Zia ; wait." Agatina took a little sheet with coronet and A. C. monogram, and wrote the letter which has already been perused. " Is it not enough now, or do you wish it to be harder — colder?"

" It is sufficient," said the Mastari, with glis tening eyes, for she felt her protege's cause had leaped up from the lowest level to mean height. "I have not written so because I believe there was any offence given, or because my pride is greater than what I feel, or because the Signor Hammond is unknown to the world, but because fate seems to have decided against my happiness." " For it, carissima ; it is only to be found amongst those of our own people and faith." " For the devout it may be so, not for me." The Marchesa rang the bell. Pietro appeared. " Give this letter to the Signor Inglese when he comes to-morrow," his mistress said. "Without other message, Eccellenza?" " There is nothing more, save that you can say we leave Rome to-morrow." " For Genoa, Eccellenza ?" " I do not yet know, there is no occasion to tell my destination."

The old servant went away a little sorrow fully, for he liked the Englishman, who always had a cheerful nod and smile for him, to say nothing of an occasional scudo. " You do not really leave us to-morrow, Agatina? Leo and the children will be in despair." " I may not set out to-morrow, but if not, the day after will be the latest of my stay." " We shall be eloquent enough to persuade you, cara; a happy night," and she went. " You are satisfied, Zia, now, for the pride of the name, are you not?" " Content itself could not be more so ; addio." The Marchesa went on with her writing, and told her journal, in the silence of the still night, and in confidence supreme, how she now believed every word of Wolfe Hammond's letter, and how she felt her doubts change into faith, and her fears into confidence ; how this belief had come like rest and a refreshing draught after a long and dreary road ; then how, while she yet dwelt upon it, her cousin and hostess had come to her, casting words in her face that were bitter to hear, and had spoken of the writer as she did not wish to hear her future lord mentioned ; how all her hesitation had rushed back upon her, and how, through it, the Mastari had driven her to her own condemnation.

Finally she wrote, in a clear firm hand — " I have done wrong, and I hate the Zia Mastari." Having executed this passage with concen tration of energy, she closed the diary, locked it, and went to bed. Little rest to be had, and the last sentence of the diary repeating itself during the night in every sort of way brought the Marchesa to the morrow, and with the sunshine and life of the morning came an altered mind. As she passed to the family breakfast, she said to Pietro in the vestibule — " If the signor comes, I am at home and will see him ; tell the Signora Gerli to remain in my own reception room; respond to the bell yourself, and show the visitor there." " It is a joy to me, Eccellenza," answered the old man, "I rejoice." The breakfast was very pleasant to the Marchesa, and the objects of daily life had all their usual charm, for there was now a bright prospect.

The host seemed surprised at the young girl's cheerfulness, for he had been told of her decision. Not so his wife, who had passed through the ante-room and heard every word that had been said to Pietro by his mistress, so the shadow had changed from Agatina's face to her own. When the dejeuner was over, Nello drew his cousin into the great saloon, to play to him, and his mother went to her usual avocations in the Palazzo. She could hear how brightly the Marchesa's voice rang in the great hollow saloon, and she knew that it warbled happiness to her Antipatia, and sor row to her Simpatia. In fact the cheeriness and freshness of the voice stirred up what was evil in her mind, for it seemed to sing_ that the pretty Agatina and her large possessions were about to go to a hated stranger and a heretic.

The Princess was now quite prepared by dislike and contradiction to forget her former precepts of duty to her neighbour, and do anything short of crime to serve a friend and spite an enemy, though it were to entail suffering upon a third person still liked and favoured. Suddenly she hit upon an ex pedient for serving out judgment (as she explained to herself), according to the very fallible tribunal of her own predilections and animosities. Once in her own apartment she proceeded to execute sentence, and rang for the door porter; it was not long before he appeared, a servant of the family for many years. " Matteo,'' she said to the man when they were alone, " you are trustworthy and attached, and have every reason to be so." " The service of the house is my only religion, Altezza," answered the man.

" The Prince and I wish to prove your fidelity and discretion." " Are they not Padroni ?" " Absolute secrecy and silence are expected from you, and a little adroitness — it is not much." " It is not enough from my gratitude." " A letter was given last night to Pietro, by the Marchesa Castellano, for a certain English gentleman." " Capisco." " In writing and sending that letter, the Marchesa acted rightly to herself and to us." Matteo nodded, his eyes glistening with curiosity. Ut VOL. II. c " This morning she issued a different order, to admit the Signor Inglese, and that the letter should not be given ; you understand ?" " Altroche." " The change of mind is one which neither the Prince (a heavy slide down the precipice) nor I can approve of; we do not wish the Marchesa to receive the Englishman, and we wish the letter to be delivered."

" It is easy." "I have explained this much to you, in order that you may know you are asked to do nothing wrong." " The Padrona could not err, her commands will be obeyed." "The Marchesa's former correct decision will be thus adhered to, and no unfortunate change influence her life." " Where is the letter, Eccellenza?" " In Pietro's keeping, he has not returned it." " Could it be possible that it is destroyed?'' The Princess had not foreseen this difficulty, and the complication which might ensue if the letter could not be found. " It is not destroyed. You had better see where it has been put." While the man was gone to look for it, a very bad reflection entered the Mastari's mind. The woman who said her prayers in all sin cerity, did her fasts scrupulously, visited her sick charitably, eat of the sacrament with a reverence almost superstitious, and felt at peace with God and man actually contem plated without horror, if not with equanimity, the sin of forgery.

A crime, a felony, punish able by the severest penalties of the law. Strange burglar of the human mind is hatred, no locks of religion and morality can resist his insidious attacks to steal the gems of honesty and truth if he has once found a way to get at the less costly jewels, pride and self esteem. These last had been already easily taken from the Princess Mastari ; and the bolt which secured the others was fast yielding, when Matteo returned. " It is safe, Signora," he said, "stuck into c the wood of the shelf in his own room. I have removed it to mine.'' The temptation to the greater sin was passed and gone, but I fear not before the tempter knew well that the woman had yielded in heart if not in deed. Nevertheless the Italian was very glad that no extreme measures were necessary, and from the moment the necessity ceased to exist tried to persuade herself that she would never have yielded, and I daresay with per fect success.