Mine is Thine. A novel

Chapter I

I humbly desire, dear readers, to please you if I can, and therefore hasten to gratify an aspiration which lurks in all novel-readers' hearts — to " get into the thick of the business at once." So come with me and be summarily introduced to one or two principal personages of this little drama. Let us take them unawares, let us surprise them while they sit at meat, — eating, drinking, and (some of them, at least) making merry, on the margin of the Lake of Como, in one of the pleasantest hotels in Europe, the " Bellevue," at Cadenabbia. And do thou, old Time, turn back in thy flight a few short years, and suffer us to enter the table-d'hdte room of the hotel in question, on the bright evening of an early summer day in 18 — . The banquet is spread. The guests are assembled or assem bling. They are of many nationalities, of diverse ranks, of most ages ; each of the three sexes is represented, for more than one palpable curate bows his meek head over the flesh-pot.

The noise is a little trying at first. The crockery does seem to be possessed with devils, and every glass in the room must have St Vitus's dance. Every one seems to be impatient at first — hungry, angry, vociferous. What tempers these waiters must have ! Outside the window a string-band is playing a selection from the ' Barbiere.' Could anything be more appropriate ? "Figaro quel, Figaro Id!" shrieks the band. "Kellner!" "Gordon I" "Cameriere!" "Waiter I" shout the guests; and, through all the crush and the bustle, these admirable men glide about — here, there, everywhere, breathless and perspiring, but full of polyglot politeness and attention. The only calm, A still, cool-looKing object in the room is that tremendous head waiter in the buff waistcoat, standing near the door, in Jove like serenity.

The guests, as they enter, pause before him to ask where they may place themselves. In that august presence, they appear to peak aud dwindle. He is too great to speak, but waves them off to their destinations, exact and unerring as omniscience. His whole air seems to say — " A good man struggling with difficulties may be a sight for the gods ; but how much grander this, the sjjectacle of a great man overcoming every difficulty without a struggle, with a bosom as unruffled as the buff garment which envelops it ! " The diapason of discord has achieved itself in the sudden collapse of that mottle-faced waiter, involving in his ruin thirteen plates, a dish of potatoes, and a bottle of Medoc ; and now that the yells of yonder German have caused the last window in the room to be closed, things begin to settle down into a little more quiescence.

Come, then, and let us thread the hall. Don't look at that indigestive spinster unless you wish to be petrified. Don't waste a thought upon that glorious-looking old man with the dome-like head and long white moustache. He is not a very distinguished general of division. He is a City man — probably a stockbroker — and it is quite conceivable that his name is Crump. Never mind the brunette — beautiful as a star, but nothing to us. Let us go on. Eat with their knives t Of course they do. The only Russian princess whose confidence I have enjoyed, ate with her knife — quite a trifle when you're accustomed to it. You see that old lady dwelling in the fool's paradise of an auburn "front" and immense gutta-percha teeth? Well, next her are two men. Voild notre affaire. These are my hero Cosmo Glencairn, and his friend Tom Wyedale.

Yes, the fair one is Cosmo. Why not 1 Heroes ought to be dark 1 I deny it — not English heroes. They ought to be buff men, with blue eyes, like the Vikings. Well, there they are. Draw near to them, and listen to them, and look out for new arrivals. And now I leave you to find your way through the labyrinth of this tale, from which the gods give you and me a safe aud happy deliverance. " The menagerie seems to be fuller than usual to - ni<4it, Cosmo," said Tom; "the roaring is louder, and there seem to be several new varieties. I see a new skunk, and a chimpanzee, and a sun-fish, and a hippopotamus." " And all that being interpreted ? " " And all that being interpreted means that we have a con siderable increase in the number of our co-diners, and that the new-comers are rather a shady lot to look at."

"Not very distinguished - looking, certainly. What is the meaning of it, I wonder? It isn't near the tourist's season, and yet many of the new arrivals look like the ideal tourist — not the least like returning swallows from the Riviera or Rome." " Not a bit of it ; but, perhaps, something has been taking place in England — the Whitsuntide holidays or something." " You pagan ! we are still a fortnight from Whitsunday." " Are we ? I apologise. One forgets everything in this Sleepy Hollow. But, Whitsunday or not, if Mr Cook had shot a whole caravan into the district, wre couldn't be richer in his typical followers." " Yes, I've seen the kind of people before, in connection with a ' conductor.' It's the old problem of the flies in amber." " Seen them before ! By George, they're all here ! There's the ' expansive ' Briton — that underdone-looking man.

See how he talks at, through, up against, down upon, everybody and everything ! He has a joke for every one. He chaffs them all round, waiters included. He is button-holing the whole table with his eyes. Listen to the monster ! How he laughs ! You can hear nothing else. What a fearful thing is vulgar geniality ! That fellow would chaff the Pope if he could get at him. " Then there are two or three specimens of the ' reticent ' Briton. That pock-marked fellow staring so fiercely at four inches of the table in front of him, is one of them. Doesn't he look as if his pockets were full of Orsini bombs ? as if he were making up his mind to let them off at once, and blow us all to smithereens ? And there's another — that hectic man in the white tie, looking as if he had just picked a pocket. They are both in a white terror of being addressed in a foreign tongue ; for, behold, beside one sits a restless-looking Frenchman, and by the other an affable Muscovite.

Hence their woe. And there is the archæological female Briton — she may be in some other 'ology' perhaps, but she certainly goes in for 'mind' and science of some sort. They're all the same. You can't mistake them. Limp, and with that mysterious top-knot of scraggy hair gathered together from the uttermost parts of the head. She looks as if a savage had tomahawked her, and, finding the scalp unsatisfactory, had hurriedly replaced it. Doesn't she. Cosmo ? Oh, how I suffered from one of the tribe at Eleusis last year ! The sun was raging, but she seated herself on a fallen capital and held me, like the Ancient Mariner, while she lectured for half an hour on the spirit of Greek Art. She had come from Athens without an escort, braving the brigands with no protection save her awful virginity; and I fear there is no doubt it got her safe back.

And ah ! I thought we should find him here ; and there he is, sure enough, up at the end of the opposite table — and a fine specimen he is, too, of the ' domestic ' Briton. You can see through all that fellow's dodges, and read him like a book. These two girls are his daughters, and he trembles for them. Every well-looking individual of the opposite sex is a hawk, ready to swoop upon his dove-cot. You, Cosmo, are a hawk." "Thanks; I fear your definition won't permit a tu quoque." " You are, as I say, in this man's perverted vision, a hawk. His mind is full of hawks and foreign counts. The foreign count is his bete noire, and every well-dressed foreigner is a count 'within the meaning of the Act.' Observe how he has strategised against hawks and counts. He has thrown out a flanking party on either side of the dove-cot, — that tough-looking spinster on the left, obviously an aunt — the hobbledehoy on the right, clearly a brother ; and he himself is a big gun of position in the centre, ready to go off with fearful detonations."

" The doves are rather pretty, Tom ; the blue one is really a charming little ingenue." " Passable — passable ; and indeed I find the pink sister not without attraction. Impossible head-gear, though." " Oh, cela va sans dire ; at present all head-gears are impossible. Now, if you were to tilt back that terrible erection on the girl's head till it sloped from the sky-line of the head, over the neck, you would " " Steady, Cosmo ! outlying picket alarmed and signalling to the main body. Look at the weather. Opposite window ; charming evening, isn't it 1 What a bloom there is on that hill opposite ! How the last rays of the sun are bringing out the tints of everything ! " " Including that bottle of ' Gattinara,' which has been with you ever since we sat down. Pass it, before it is quite empty.

I'll tell you what it is, Tom, it is not a remunerative system going shares in wine with a talkative fellow like you. You don't give yourself time to eat much, but you do contrive to drink like a whale." " Do 1 1 The action is quite mechanical, I assure you." "Very likely, but it empties the bottle quite as effectually as if it were deliberate." " After all, what is there in one bottle of ' Gattinara ' ? " " Precisely what I wish to discover. Pass it." " Cornish men ? No, surr ; I never fouled a Cornish man — not to know him." Thus spake a cadaverous American gentle man, who sat opposite the two friends, addressing an English neighbour, and splitting up his remarks into short, irregular sentences. "They are splendid men, I can tell you," said the neighbour; " they're descended from the ancient Britons, you know."

" Are they, now ? Well, I niver met an ancient Briton. But if any of them were to give a look down Texas way. They'd keep quiet about their descendants when they went back, I guess. They've got a kind of a man down there, surr, that mostly runs seventy-three to seventy-seven inches. That's good enough, ain't it ? You've heard of William G. Howkins ?" " I think not." " Ah ! that was a kind of a man that stood ninety-two inches. And a fraction. And when he killed the grizzly that ran to 900 pounds in its skin and claws. You've heard of that bear? " "No, I can't say I have." "Wall, he took and carried that thar grizzly, and went browsin' all around the town with that thar carcass on his back. To show him. That's the kind of man William G. Howkins was. And that's the kind of man they raise down Texas way.

I guess an ancient Briton would feel rather mean and skinny down there. I guess he'd feel downright d d ashamed of his descendants. When he saw them again." " Howkins must have been a Goliath." "Wall, he was above the middle height. But he ain't the size now. Not since the war." " How do you mean ? " " Wall, there was a cannon-ball that was a trifle quick for him at Gettysburg. He got his legs chipped. And shortened up, at that time, seven or eight inches. But, I guess, they'd still show the balance of him in Cornwall. For money. W. G. II. wasn't descended from nobody. You bet." " A've harrd ov a Glasca man " began another gentleman, in the solemn doric of North Britain. "Be japers!" interrupted a sprightly -looking neighbour — " be japers ! Mr Howkins must be own brother to Larry O'Toole's aunt, ' That had niver a father, And sorra a mother, liat jist poured herself out from a jug of potheen.' ' MINE IS THINE.

"A racklack a Glasca man — u'm thinkin' his name was Fechnie " Interruption, however, again befell the Scot, for an excitable -looking Frenchman, who had been intently listening to the dialogue, suddenly gave tongue. " Messieurs," he exclaimed, " comment cela s'explique-t-il ? Moi, je comprends parfaitement l'Anglais, mais il n'y a pas moyen de vous comprendre, vous autres. Vous parlez trois — mais, oui ! — quatre langues, entre vous, tout a la fois. Que veut dire ce ' Larree O'Toal ' ? Qu'est ce que c'est que ce ' Glass Cow ' 1 Comment expliquez vous cet abominable ' Racklaxe ' ? Dites done, je vous en prie, comment " But here a shout of laughter reduced the Gaul to foaming silence. The meal went bustling on. The blended tumult of a hun dred voices rose and fell, as interval and onset relieved each other ; but at every revival the pitch of voices seemed higher, and the laughter more strenuous than before, — save where, like veritable " Towers of Silence," the types of reticence sat wrapt in a taciturnity that seemed to become palpable— to make itself felt — even amid that human Babel, with its crashing sym phonies from dels and metal.

All round the table quaint idiosyncrasies progressively evolved themselves before the laughing eyes of Cosmo Glencairn and his loquacious friend. About a third of the dinner had been achieved. The American Eagle was soaring sublime, on reckless wings of hyperbole and myth. The Scotchman, who had failed to find a single taker for some creaking observations on the bothy system, as pursued in Ross shire, was watching the Eagle, with the intention of a trapper in his eye. His French neighbour continued to mutter, " II n'y a pas moyen de comprendre ces gueux d' Anglais." One female representative of British mind, thinking entomology to be a good light dinner subject — safe to draw — had plunged into the habits of the " Death's-head moth," and secured, for a time, the sympathy of several people in her vicinity, including a curate, a governess, with two female charges, a broken-English German, and a highly-intelligent-looking old gentleman, whose eye seemed to blaze with unqualified appreciation, but who, as it afterwards transpired, was deaf and blind.

But suddenly another of the sisterhood, who sat opposite, unsuspected up to this time and incog., unmasked herself and came into action, opening fire with an " ichthyosaurus," and following it up with " flint-headed weapons," which staggered the curate, demoralised the pupils, and elicited a long-drawn " So ! " from the German. Number One, finding the Death's-head moth altogether unequal to the position, withdrew it in favour of "greywacke " which, to a certain extent, rallied confidence, until "Primeval Man," "the Moabite Stone," and "the Panathenaic Frieze," fired off by Number Two in rapid succession, left Number One without any following, save the appreciative old man. But Number Two did not long continue the heroine of the occasion ; for the expansive Briton, expanding theologically, laid an irreverent paw upon the Pentateuch, which roused the meek but true hearted curate, and, in a pause of silence and expectation, all the table awaited the encounter between Christian and Apol lyon.

During this pause, when dinner was half achieved, a new arrival again diverted public attention, and concentrated it on very different objects. The new party was preceded by a gaudy and corpulent courier, who, after questioning the buff-cinctured Jove with an air of impious equality, marshalled his proteges to their seats, with looks of scorn and menace, cast on either side, as who should say, " Tremble, O ye base groundlings ! the social Juggernaut is upon you." The public, however, paid small attention to this tremendous personage, for all eyes were more pleasantly attracted to the lady and gentleman who followed him. The lady was beautiful. It is a bold assertion, an apple of discord, which we should hesitate to hurl into any assembly on the entrance of any living woman. Did its sculptor succeed in expressing a true ideal of Beauty, or did he only immortalise the Insipid, in the Venus dei Medici 1 Are Rubens's often painted wives glorious types of vigorous and beautiful woman hood ? or are they only two naked Flemish fishwomen, wallow ing in a superabundance of garish flesh 1 Specimens these, selected at random, of the diversities of opinion upon all ques tions as to beauty depicted by human hands ; and how much greater are the diversities when the claims of this, or that, living woman are sub lite !

I make, then, a bold assertion ; but as the lady is invisible to the reader, I make it boldly, not fearing contradiction, unless, indeed, some may take exception to cer tain features which I may state to have been distinctive of the fair entrant — sea-grey eyes, to wit, — grey or blue, I know not which, but the colour of the Mediterranean when the sun has just gone down, and left upon calm waters a look, between the blue of noontide and the steely sheen that comes on them with the gloaming, — sea-grey eyes and bronze-brown hair, a pure complexion, a nose delicately retrousse, a mouth like the bow of Cupid, and a figure slight, but genuine and complete — not that composition of door, hay-truss, and pillow, with which art, supplementing natural deficiencies, contrives nowadays to make MINE IS THINE. a travesty of the " human form divine."

All these were attributes of the young lady in question ; and I trust that, on these simple data, no reader will be captious enough to found a theory that she was not (what I distinctly assert she was and is) beautiful. It is a goodly thing to be beautiful ; it is a glorious thing to be young, (dwell upon this, rejoice in it, revel in it, O ye young, in the days of your youth !) — but to be both young and beautiful is to be twice blest ; and this fortunate lady enjoyed that double beatitude. And besides all this — an attri bute more exquisite still — she possessed that subtle, magical charm which words cannot define nor art imitate, but which nature, culture, and association, all three, combine to produce, weaving it out of movement, manner, expression, carriage, and I know not what besides, and which can only, but most feebly, be expressed in words by the commonplace phrase, " a thorough bred air."

Many of the guests at the table d'hote might have been indifferent to her beauty, or denied its existence altogether; but the air noble reached them all : so that every eye was turned admiringly in her direction, and the duty of eating strenuously up to a rather high contract price was pretty generally suspended for at least five-and-twenty seconds. Certain eclipses took place. The charms of half-a-dozen pink-and-white damsels, who looked but now so fresh and bright and pretty, vanished abruptly, just as one has seen a bunch of comely village-garden flowers grow coarse and gaudy when placed near some exotic, exquisite in its simple purity of form and hue. As she passed up the hall, the sun offered an inspiration which Raphael might have prized; for the last rays, streaming through the windows, smote upon the deep masses of her burnished hair, and seemed to set a glory round about her small and shapely head.

"A burning beauty ! " whispered Tom Wyedale. Cosmo said nothing, but the thought written in his face was "Oh! deacerte!" "And," said the American, following up a commendatory remark of his own — " and, I guess, the old boss looks like blood and bone, and beans into the bargain." These irreverent remarks were applied to the gentleman who followed the beautiful apparition. He was a tall, old man, with features patrician rather than handsome, and an expression well-bred rather than courteous ; in carriage upright, in move ment deliberately angular ; clear of complexion, with cold blue eyes, and slight but emphatic whiskers ; highly collared, amply neckerchiefed ; tightly buttoned up, as to his olive frock-coat, — his ensemble, in a word, recalling the now extinct, grand air of the old school.

His temper was not in a satisfactory condition. He had a grievance, which exploded every now and then in far-reaching fragments of angry sentences, and which proved to be that he was very late for dinner, but by no fault of his own ; and the difficulty of bringing the blame home to the real delinquent was that which now exercised his mind. Some men — nurses of their wrath — cannot be satisfied until they get it into the con crete. They can't say, "Confound it!" — they must be able to say, "Confound him, them, or you!" The old gentleman was of this nature, and he was hunting for a personality wherewith to connect his grievance. Every one, from his courier and his daughter's maid, had, of course, shifted the blame to some sub ordinate, so that half the household were implicated, even the hall -porter being entangled in the affair.

Several of these officials were brought up for examination in the table-d'hSte room, and a sort of running court of inquiry occupied the old gentleman in the intervals between each tepid plat. It ended by the summary conviction of the head-waiter, whose lofty bearing had at once inflamed the spirit of the old gentleman, and pointed him out, without further evidence, as the guilty person. So the case was closed by a few powerful observations addressed to that astonished magnate. " Don't answer me ! " cried the angry guest ; " it is, as I say, all owing to your abominable carelessness." " Beg your pardon, my lord ; every one knows that the table d'hote hour " " Every one, sir, is a very different person from me and my daughter. I know nothing about your table d'hote, except that I never saw a worse dinner or more execrable attendance.

I shall report this to the direction, and also about your manner, which is distinctly offensive. Go away." " Beg pardon, my lord " "Go away, sir ! get out of my sight ! " — whereupon the man went, crestfallen ; and the American, regarding the old peer with a curious veneration that could hardly have been surpassed on his lordship's own domain, muttered — " Darned if it ain't something to be a lord ! A real English lord ! They all knock under to that. That all-mighty waiter would have laughed at any of your counts or barons. Or even a duke. If he spelt himself D-U-C. But the real article kicks 'em all about." " After all," smiled his English neighbour, " you see some thing in our aristocracy." " Yes, surr. Something to be ashamed of. I see something in human natur', too. And I'm ashamed of that.

Human natur', surr, is a born toady. I ain't proud of that fact. But that don't prevent me seeing that while it is sich, it ain't a bad thing to be a lord. Like the old crocodile over the way. It's better to kick than to be kicked — ain't it ? That's sense, I guess. Holloa, waiter ! who's the lord ? " The waiter didn't know, and was despatched to the bureau to bring the required information in writing — which being done, the Yankee read the name, and said — " Wall, I hope Lord Germistoune's property's big. He wants elbow-room. It would take about four of our parishes, I guess, to let him turn in. Without grazing." The tedious dinner came to a close at last, and the company melted gradually away, to take their coffee al fresco while listening to the band ; or to be rowed about upon the lake, in the dreamy twilight between sunset and moon-rise.

As Cosmo and Tom left the room, they passed close by Lord Germistoune and his daughter, just as his lordship, still unappeased, was remarking — " The whole thing is distinctly monstrous. They have only now brought me these letters and papers, which have been awaiting us here since yesterday." "How very tiresome and stupid!" said the young lady; "but I daresay it won't happen again, now they know you." " I shall take uncommon good care it does not have a chance of happening again, for I will leave the house." "Dear papa, there is no other hotel." " Not on this side ; but two, at least, at Bellaggio. Now, I propose to be rowed over there this evening, and secure rooms for to-morrow. If I sent that idiot Stefano, he would be sure to make mistakes. Would you care to come ? It is a lovely evening, and but a short row.

Perhaps you are too tired, though?" " Not at all ; I should like of all things to go with you." " Very well : if you are ready in half an hour, that will do. The moon is nearly full now, and we need not hurry. In the meantime I will try to get a cup of coffee outside."

Chapter II

The two friends passed an hour or so lounging by the lake, till the moon began to rise over the hills, and then Cosmo said — " Behold the hour, and the boat of Pietro ! Let us hail him, and get afloat. That little breeze, just beginning to arrive from the Engadine, is a godsend, after the stifling heat of the day. Let us get right out into the middle of the lake, and meet it and make the most of it, and see the moon rising. The moonlight effects here are superb ; and there is something in this air that makes one appreciative. The moon makes poets of us all down here — the moon and the lake, between them." Cosmo was right. Surely his must be a rusty soul that takes no gleam of radiance and delight from the beautiful communion of the two ! Beautiful ! There is no word in any language good enough, beautiful enough, to describe it.

The moon must be in love with Como. Fancy-free for all the world besides, the " imperial vot'ress " must have bestowed upon that favoured lake the solitary passion of her mysterious heart. Is not this why her countenance changes as she passes over these enchanted and enchanting waters ? Is not this why the fashion of her beauty there grows softer, tenderer, dreamier 1 Is it not for this that there she moves with such slow and lingering languor, as all those who, with seeing eyes, have beheld her, will attest 1 Yes, she is in love with Como ; and as lovers' faces change at meeting the adored, so is she transfigured when she looks over the hills that shelter the object of her devotion. Lover like she comes, making the most of her own charms. Lover like she glorifies the beauties of the beloved with her idealising light.

And oh ! most lover-like she moves in that dear presence, slowly, rapt, concentrated — piercing with her glances the solemn depths of the enamoured lake, which lies gazing up at her, earnest and silent, needing no voice for a reply ; for she can see into that clear, deep heart, and there behold the transcript of her pure and holy flame. Though " Adam lost Paradise — eternal tale ! " — there have still been left to us — few, indeed, and far between — scattered over the face of mother earth, certain spots of heavenly beauty and repose : Edens, the gates of which no flaming swords nor " watch of winged Hydra " guard ; where the flowers are not too obviously disfigured by the serpent's trail ; where even the spirit of man, if not divine, at least possesses some of the calm, suave attributes of divinity.

Surely Lake Como and its margin are of these. The day had been one of sultriest heat, and a kind of thundery silence had brooded over the water, and over all the country round about. Closed jalousies had darkened the faces of the beautiful villas on the lake. The luxuriant creepers, clothing their terrace-walls, hung down limp and dejected, as though trying to reach the water, and find coolness or death therein. The fountains in the gardens seemed to send up languid and unwilling jets, dim to the eye, and with no joyous music for the ear. From Tremezzo to Menaggio, from Bellaggio to Varenna, you might have counted the visible population on your fingers — a few languid forms, motionless for the most part, or only moving a few unwilling paces, to subside again into inevitable stagnation. Not a boat to be seen on the lake save one — a large contadino barque, laden with market-produce, which put off early from Varenna, but soon gave up the busi ness as hopeless, and lay all day at the opening of Lake Lecco, the motionless cradle of its slumbering crew.