Rosa and Flora. A romance

Chapter I

Though Flora had been so wakeful the preceding night, she tapped at Mrs. Delano's door very early the next morning. " Excuse me for coming before you were dressed," said she ; " but I wanted to ask you how long you think it will be before Mr. Percival can find out whether Mr. Fitzgerald has brought Rosa with him." " Probably not before noon," replied Mrs. Delano, drawing the anxious little face toward her, and imprinting on it her morning kiss. " Last evening I wrote a note to Mr. Green, requesting him to dispose of the opera tickets to other friends. Mr. Fitzgerald is so musical, he will of course be there ; and whether your sister is with him or not, you will be in too nervous a state to go to any public place. You had better stay in your room, and busy yourself with books and drawings, till we can ascertain the state of VOL. II.

B things. I will sit with you as much as I can ; and when I am absent you must try to be a good, quiet child." " I will try to be good, because I don't want to trouble you, Mamita Lila ; but you know I can't be quiet in my mind. I did long for the opera ; but unless Mr. Fitzgerald brought Rosa with him, and I could see her before I went, it would almost kill me to hear ' Norma ;' for every part of it is associated with her." After breakfast, Mrs. Delano sat some time in Flora's room, inspecting her recent drawings, and advising her to work upon them during the day, as the best method of restraining restless ness. While they were thus occupied, Carlina brought in a beautiful bouquet for Miss Delano, accompanied with a note for the elder lady, ex pressing Mr. Green's great regret at being de prived of the pleasure of their company for the evening.

" I am sorry I missed seeing him," thought Mrs. Delano ; " for he is always so intimate with Southerners, I dare say he would know all about Mr. Fitzgerald ; though I should have been at a loss how to introduce the inquiry." Not long afterward Mr. Percival called, and had what seemed to Flora a very long private conference with Mrs. Delano. The information he brought was, that the lady with Mr. Fitzgerald was a smad, slight figure, with yellowish hair and very delicate complexion. " That is in all respects the very opposite of Flora's description of her sister," rejoined Mrs. Delano. Their brief conversation on the subject was concluded by a request that Mr. Percival would inquire at Civita Vecchia for the earliest vessels bound either to France or England. Mrs. Delano could not at once summon suffi cient resolution to recount all the particulars to Flora ; to whom she merely said that she con sidered it certain that her sister was not with Mr. Fitzgerald.

" Then why can't I go right off to the United States to-day?" exclaimed the impetuous little damsel. " Would you then leave Mamita Lila so sud denly?" inquired her friend; whereupon the emotional child began to weep and protest. This little scene was interrupted by Carlina with two visiting-cards on a silver salver. Mrs. Delano's face flushed unusually as she glanced at them. She immediately rose to go, saying to Flora. " I must see these people ; but I will come back, b to you as soon as I can. Don't leave your room, my dear." In the parlour, she found a gentleman and lady, both handsome, but as different from each other as night and morning. The lady stepped forward and said, " I think you will recollect me ; for we lived in the same street in Boston, and you and my mother used to visit together."

" Miss Lily Bed," rejoined Mrs. Delano, offer ing her hand. " I had not heard you were on this side the Atlantic." " Not Miss Bell now, but Mrs. Fitzgerald," replied the fair little lady. " Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Fitzgerald." Mrs. Delano bowed, rather coldly; and her visitor continued, " I was so sorry I didn't know you were with the Vatican party last night. Mr. Green told us of it this morning, and said you were obliged to leave early, on account of the indisposition of Miss Delano. I hope she has recovered, for Mr. Green has told me so much about her that I am dying with curiosity to see her." " She is better, I thank you, but not well enough to see company." replied Mrs. Delano. " What a pity she will be obliged to relinquish the opera to-night !" observed Mr. Fitzgerald. " I hear she is very musical; and they tell won derful stories about this new prima donna.

The}' say she has two more notes in the altissimo scale than any singer who has been heard here, and that her sostenuto is absolutely marvellous." Mrs. Delano replied politely, expressing regret that she and her daughter were deprived of the pleasure of hearing such a musical genius. After some desultory chat concerning the various sights in Rome, the visitors departed. " I'm glad your caU was short," said Mr. Fitz gerald. " That lady is a perfect specimen of Boston ice." Whereupon his companion began to rally him for want of gallantry in saying anything dis paraging of Boston. Meanwhile Mrs. Delano was pacing the par lour in a disturbed state of mind. Though she had foreseen such a contingency as one of the possible consequences of adopting Flora, yet when it came so suddenly in a different place, and under different circumstances from any she had thought of, the effect was somewhat bewil dering.

She dreaded the agitation into which the news would throw Flora, and she wanted to mature her own future plans before she made the announcement. So, in answer to Flora's questions about the visitors, she merely said a lady from Boston, the daughter of one of her old acquaintances, had called to introduce her hus band. After dinner, they spent some time reading Tasso's " Aminta" together; and then Mrs. Delano said, " I wish to go and have a talk with Mr. and Mrs. Percival. I have asked him to in quire about vessels at Civita Vecchia ; for, under present circumstances, I presume you would be glad to set out sooner than we intended on that romantic expedition in search of your sister." " 0, thank you ! thank you !" exclaimed Flora, jumping up and kissing her. " I trust you will not go out, or sing, or show yourself at the windows while I am gone," said Mrs. Delano ; "for though Mr. Fitzgerald can do you no possible harm, it would be more agreeable to slip away without his seeing you."

The promise was readily and earnestly given, and she proceeded to the lodgings of Mr. and Mrs. Percival in the next street. After she had related the experiences of the morning, she asked what they supposed had become of Rosa bella. " It is to be hoped she does not continue her relation with that base man if she knows of his marriage," said Mrs. Percival ; " for that would involve a moral degradation painful for you to think of in Flora's sister." " If she has ceased to interest his fancy, very likely he may have sold her," said Mr. Percival ; " for a man who could entertain the idea of selling. Flora, I think would sed his own Northern wife, if the law permitted it and circumstances tempted him to it." ' What do you think I ought to do in the premises ?" inquired Mrs. Delano. "I would hardly presume to say what you ought to do," rejoined Mrs. Percival; "but I know what I should do, if I were as rich as you, and as strongly attached to Flora."

" Let me hear what you would do," said Mrs. Delano. The prompt reply was, " I would go in search of her. And if she was sold, I would buy her and bring her home, and be a mother to her." " Thank you," said Mrs. Delano, warmly press ing her hand. "I thought you would advise what was kindest and noblest. Money really seems to me of very little value, except as a means of promoting human happiness. And in this case I might perhaps prevent moral degradation, growing out of misfortune and despair." After some conversation concerning vessels that were about to sail, the friends parted. On her way homeward, she wondered within herself whether they had any suspicion of the secret tie that bound her so closely to these unfortunate girls. " I ought to do the same for them with out that motive," thought she; "but should I?"

Though her call had not been very long, it seemed so to Flora, who had latterly been little accustomed to solitude. She had no heart for books or drawing. She sat listlessly watching the crowd on Monte Pincio ; — children chasing each other, or toddling about with nurses in bright-red jackets ; carriages going round and round, ever and anon bringing into the sunshine gleams of gay Roman scarfs, or bright autumnal ribbons fluttering in the breeze. She had en joyed few things more than joining that fashion able promenade to overlook the city in the changing glories of sunset. But now she cared not for it. Her thoughts were far away on the lonely island. As sunset quickly faded into twilight, carriages and pedestrians wound their way down the hill. The noble trees on its summit became solemn silhouettes against the darkening sky, and the monotonous tricklinoof the fountain in the court below sounded more distinct as the street noises subsided.

She was growing a little anxious, when she heard soft footfalls on the stairs, which she at once recognised and hastened to meet. " 0, you have been gone so long!" she exclaimed. Happy, as all human beings are to have another heart so dependent on them, the gratified lady passed her arm round the waist of the loving child, and they ascended to their rooms like two confidential school-girls. After tea, Mrs. Delano said, " Now I wdl keep ray promise of telling you all I have discovered." Flora ran to an ottoman by her side, and, leaning on her lap, looked up eagerly into her face. " You must try not to be excitable, my dear," said her friend ; " for I have some unpleasant news to tell you." The expressive eyes, that were gazing wistfully into hers while she spoke, at once assumed that startled, melancholy look, strangely in contrast with their laughing shape.

Her friend was so much affected by it that she hardly knew how to proceed with her painful task. At last Flora murmured, " Is she dead?" " I have heard no such tidings, darling," she replied. "But Mr. Fitzgerald has married a Boston lady, and they were the visitors who came here this morning." Flora sprang up and pressed her hand on her heart, as if a sharp arrow had hit her. But she immediately sank on the ottoman again, and said, in tones of suppressed agitation, " Then he has left poor Rosa. How miserable she must be ! She loved him so ! 0, how wrong it was for me to run away and leave hear ! And only to think how I have been enjoying myself, when she was there all alone, with her heart breaking ! Can't we go to-morrow to look for her, dear Mamita ?" " In three days a vessel will sail for Mar seilles," replied Mrs. Delano.

" Our passage is taken ; and Mr. and Mrs. Percival, who intended to return home soon, are kind enough to say they wid go with us. I wish they could accom pany us to the South ; but he is so well known as an Abolitionist that his presence would pro bably cause unpleasant interruptions and delays, and perhaps endanger his life." Flora seized her hand and kissed it, while tears were dropping fast upon it. And at every turn of the conversation, she kept repeating, " How wrong it was for me to runaway and leave her !" " No, my child," replied Mrs. Delano, " you did right in coming to me. If you had stayed there, you would have made both her and yourself miserable, beside doing what was very wrong. I met Mr. Fitzgerald once on horseback, while I was visiting Mr. Welby's plantation ; but I never fairly saw him until to day.

He is so very handsome, that, when I looked at him, I could not but think it rather remarkable he did not gain a bad power over you by his insinuating flattery, when you were so very young and inexperienced." The guileless little damsel looked up with an expression of surprise, and said, " How could I bear to have him to make love to me, when he was Rosa's husband? He is so handsome and fascinating, that, if he had loved me instead of Rosa, in the beginning, I dare say I should have been as much in love with him as she was. I did dearly love him while he was a kind brother ; but I couldn't love him so. It would have killed Rosa if I had. Besides, he told falsehoods ; and papa taught us to consider that as the meanest of faults. I have heard him tell Rosa he never loved anybody but her, when an hour before he had told me he loved me better than Rosa.

What could I do but despise such a man ? Then, when he threatened to sell me, I became dread fully afraid of him." She started up, as if struck by a sudden thought, and exclaimed wildly, " What if he has sold Rosa ?" Her friend brought forward every argument and every promise she could think of to pacify her ; and when she had become quite calm, they sang a few hymns together, and before retiring to rest knelt down side by side and prayed for strength and guidance in these new troubles. Flora remained a long time wakeful, thinking of Rosa deserted and alone. She had formed many projects concerning what was to be seen and heard and done in Rome ; but she forgot them all. She did not even think of the much-anticipated opera, until she heard from the street snatches of 'Norma,' whistled or sung by the dispersing audience.

A tenor voice passed the house singing, " Vieni in Roma." " Ah," thought she, " Gerald and I used to sing that duet toge ther. And in those latter days how languish ingly he used to look at me, behind her back, while he sang passionately, ' All, deh cedi, cedi a me !' And poor cheated Rosa would say, ' Dear Gerald, how much heart you put into your voice !' 0 shame, shame ! What could I do but runaway ? Poor Rosa ! How I wish I could hear her sing ' Casta Diva,' as she used to do when we sat gazing at the moon shedding its soft light over the pines in that beautiful lonely island." And so, tossed for a long while on a sea of memories, she finally drifted into dream-land.

Chapter II

While Flora was listlessly gazing at Monte Pincio from the solitude of her room in the Via delle Quattro Fontane, Rosabella was looking at the same object, seen at a greater distance, over intervening houses, from her high lodgings in the Corso. She could see the road winding like a ribbon round the hill, with a medley of bright colours continuady moving over it. But she was absorbed in reverie, and they floated round and round before her mental eye, like the revolving shadows ofa magic lantern. She was announced to sing that night, as the new Spanish prima donna, La Senorita Rosita Campaneo ; and though she had been applauded by manager and musicians at the rehearsal that morning, her spirit shrank from the task. Re cent letters from America had caused deep me lancholy ; and the idea of singing, not con amore, but as a performer before an audience of entire strangers, filled her with dismay.

She remembered how many times she and Flora and Gerald had sung together from ' Norma ;' and an oppres sive feehng of loneliness came over her. Re turning from rehearsal, a few hours before, she had seen a young Italian girl, who strongly reminded her ofher lost sister. "Ah !" thought she, " if Flora and I had gone out into the world together, to make our own way, as Madame first intended, how much sorrow and suffering I might have been spared !" She went to the piano, where the familiar music of ' Norma' lay open before her, and from the depths of her saddened soul gushed forth, "Ah, bello a me Pitorno." The last tone passed sighingly away, and as her hands lingered on the keys, she mur mured, "Will my heart pass into it there, before that crowd of strange faces, as it does here ?" " To be sure it wid, dear," responded Madame, who had entered softly and stood listening to the last strains.

"Ah, if all would hear with your partial ears !" replied Rosabella, with a glimmering smile. " But they will not. And I am so frightened that I shad lose my voice." "What have you to be afraid of, darling?" rejoined Madame. " It was more trying to sing at private parties of accomplished musicians, as you did in Paris ; and especially at the palace, where there was such an elite company. Yet you know that Queen Amelia was so much pleased with your performance of airs from this same opera, that she sent you the beautiful enamelled wreath you are to wear to-night." "What I was singing when you came in wept itself out of the fulness of my heart," responded Rosabella. " This dreadful news of Tulee and the baby unfits me for anything. Do you think there is no hope it may prove untrue ?" " You know the letter explicitely states that my cousin and his wife, the negro-woman, and the white baby, all died of yellow-fever," replied Madame.

" But don't reproach me for leaving them, darling. I feel badly enough about it, already. I thought it would be healthy so far out of the city ; and it really seemed the best thing to do with the poor little bambino, until we could get established somewhere." " I did not intend to reproach you, my kind friend," answered Rosa. " I know you meant it all for the best. But I had a heavy presenti ment of evil when you first told me they were left. This news makes it hard for me to keep up my heart for the efforts of the evening. You know I was induced to enter upon this operatic career mainly by the hope of educating that poor child, and providing well for the old age of you and Papa Balbino, as I have learned to call my good friend, the Signor. And poor Tulee, too — how much I intended to do for her !

No mortal can ever know what she was to me in the darkest hours of my life." " Wed, poor Tulee's troubles are all over," rejoined Madame, with a sigh ; " and bambinos escape a great deal of suffering by going out of this wicked world. For, between you and I, dear, I don't believe one word about the innocent little souls staying in purgatory on account of not being baptized." "O, my friend, if you only knew!" exclaimed Rosa, in a wild, despairing tone. But she in stantly checked herself, and said, " I wid try not to think of it ; for if I do, I shall spod my voice ; and Papa Balbino would be dreadfully mortified if I failed, after he had taken so much pains to have me brought out." " That is right, darling," rejoined Madame, patting her on the shoulder. " I will go away, and leave you to rehearse."

Again and again Rosa sang the familiar airs, trying to put soul into them, by imagining how she would feel if she were in Norma's position. VOL. II. C Some of the emotions she knew by her own ex perience, and those she sang with her deepest feeling. " If I could only keep the same visions before me that I have here alone, I should sing well to-night," she said to herself; " for now, when I sing ' Casta Diva,' I seem to be sitting with my arm round dear little Flora, watching the moon as it rises among the dark pines on that lonely island." At last the dreaded hour came. Rosa appeared on the stage with her train of priestesses. The orchestra and the audience were before her ; and she knew that Papa and Mamma Balbino were watching her from the side with anxious hearts. She was very pale, and her first notes were a little tremulous.

But her voice soon became clear and strong ; and when she fixed her eyes on the moon, and sang "Casta Diva," the fulness and richness of the tones took everybody by surprise. "Bis! Bis!" cried the audience; and the chorus was not adowed to proceed till she had sung it a second and third time. She courtesied her acknowledgments gracefully. But as she retired, ghosts of the past went with her ; and with her heart full of memories, she seemed to weep in music, while she sang in Italian, " Re store to mine affliction one smile of love's pro tection." Again the audience shouted, " Bis ! Bis!" The duet with Adalgisa was more difficult ; for she had not yet learned to be an actress, and she was embarrassed by the consciousness of being an object of jealousy to the seconda donna, partly because she was prima, and partly because the tenor preferred her.

But when Adalgisa sang in Italian the words, " Behold him !" she chanced to raise her eyes to a box near the stage, and saw the faces of Gerald Fitzgerald and his wife bending eagerly toward her. She shuddered, and for an instant her voice failed her. The audience were breathless. Her look, her atti tude, her silence, her tremor, all seemed inimi table acting. A glance at the foot-lights and at the orchestra recalled the recollection of where she was, and by a strong effort she controded herself; though there was still an agitation in her voice, which the audience and the singers thought to be the perfection of acting. Again she glanced at Fitzgerald, and there was terrible power in the tones with which she uttered, in Italian, " Tremble, perfidious one ! Thou know est the cause is ample." c Her eyes rested for a moment on Mrs. Fitz gerald, and with a wonderful depth of pitying sadness, she sang, "0, how his art deceived thee !"

The wish she had formed was realized. She was enabled to give voice to her own emotions, forgetful of the audience for the time being. And even in subsequent scenes, when the recol lection of being a performer returned upon her, her inward excitation seemed to float her onward, like a great wave. Once again her own feelings took her up, like a tornado, and made her seem a wonderful ac tress. In the scene where Norma is tempted to kill her children, she fixed her indignant gaze fud upon Fitzgerald, and there was an inde scribable expression of stern resolution in her voice, and of pride in the carriage of her queenly head, whde she sang, "Disgrace worse than death awaits them. Slavery? No! never!" Fitzgerald quailed before it. He grew pale, and slunk back in the box. The audience had never seen the part so conceived, and a few criti cised it.

But her beauty and her voice and her overflowing feeling carried all before her; and this, also, was accepted as a remarkable inspira tion of theatrical genius. When the wave of her own excitement was ■subsiding, the magnetism of an admiring au dience began to affect her strongly. With an outburst of fury, she sang, "War! War!" The audience cried, "Bis! Bis!" and she sang it as powerfully the second time. What it was that sustained and carried her through that terrible ordeal, she could never understand. When the curtain dropped, Fitzgerald was about to rush after her ; but his wife caught his arm, and he was obliged to follow. It was an awful penance he underwent, submitting to this necessary restraint ; and while his soul was seething like a boiling caldron, he was obliged to answer evasively Lily's frequent declaration that the superb voice of this Spanish prima donna was exactly like the wonderful voice that went wandering round the plantation, like a restless ghost.

Papa and Mamma Balbino were waiting to receive the triumphant cantatrice as she left the stage. " Brava ! Brava !" shouted the Signor, in a great fever of excitement ; but seeing how pale she looked, he pressed her hand in silence, while Madame wrapped her in shawls. They lifted her into the carriage as quickly as possible, where her head drooped almost fainting on Madame's shoulder. It required them both to support her unsteady steps, as they mounted the stairs to their lofty lodging. She told them nothing that night of having seen Fitzgerald ; and, refusing ad refreshment save a sip of wine, she sank on the bed utterly exhausted.

Chapter III

She slept late the next day, and woke with a feeling of utter weariness of body and prostration of spirit. When her dressing-maid Giovanna came at her summons, she informed her that a gentleman had twice caded to see her, but left no name or card. " Let no one be admitted to day but the manager of the opera," said Rosa. " I wid dress now ; and if Mamma Balbino is at leisure, I should hke to have her come and talk with me while I breakfast." " Madame has gone out to make some pur chases," replied Giovanna. " She said she should return soon, and charged me to keep everything quiet, that you might sleep. The Signor is in his room waiting to speak to you." "Please tell him I have waked, said Rosa; "and as soon as I have dressed and breakfasted, ask him to come to me." Giovanna, who had been at the opera the preceding evening, felt the importance of her mission in dressing the celebrated Senorita Rosita Campaneo, of whose beauty and gracefulness everybody was talking.

And when the process was completed, the cantatrice might well have been excused if she had thought herself the handsomest of women. The glossy dark hair rippled over her forehead in soft waves, and the massive braids behind were intertwisted with a narrow band of crimson velvet, that glowed like rubies where the sunlight fell upon it. Her morning wrapper of fine crimson merino, embroidered with gold-coloured silk, was singularly becoming to her complexion, softened as the contact was by a white lace collar fastened at the throat with a golden pin. But though she was seated before the mirror, and though her own Spanish taste had chosen the strong contrast of bright colours, she took no notice of the effect produced. Her face was turned toward the window, and as she gazed on the morning sky, all unconscious of its translucent bridiancy of blue, there was an inward-looking expression in her luminous eyes that would have made the fortune of an artist, if he could have reproduced her as a Sibyl.

Giovanna looked at her with surprise, that a lady could be so handsome and so beauti fully dressed, yet not seem to care for it. She lingered a moment contemplating the superb head with an exultant look, as if it were a picture of her own painting, and then she went out noiselessly to bring the breakfast-tray. The Senorita Campaneo ate with a keener ap petite than she had ever experienced as Rosabeda the recluse ; for the forces of nature, exhausted by the exertions of the preceding evening, de manded renovation. But the services of the cook were as little appreciated as those of the dressing-maid; the luxurious breakfast was to her simply food. The mirror was at her side, and Giovanna watched curiously to see whether she would admire the effect of the crimson velvet gleaming among her dark hair.

But she never once glanced in that direction. When she had eaten sufficiently, she sat twirling her spoon and looking into the depths of her cup, as if it were a magic mirror revealing all the future. She was just about to say, "Now you may cad Papa Balbino," when Giovanna gave a sudden start, and exclaimed, " Signorita ! a gentleman !" And ere she had time to look round, Fitz gerald was kneeling at her feet. He seized her hand and kissed it passionately, saying, in an agony of entreaty, " 0 Rosabella, do say you forgive me ! I am suffering the tortures of the damned." The irruption was so sudden and unexpected, that for an instant she failed to realize it. But her presence of mind quickly returned, and, for cibly withdrawing the hand to which he clung, she turned to the astonished waiting-maid and said quite calmly, " Please deliver immediately the message I spoke of."