Until the End: a story of real life

Front matter

At every Library in the Kingdom. In 3 vols. PAUL'S COURTSHIP. By HESBA STRETTON. OBSERVER. "The courtship which gives the title to this story is certainly the most ex traordinary one that ever novelist imagined or attempted to portray. As far as we can judge, it is thoroughly original, and this is a great recommendation for the novel, to be°;in with; and when we add, that its peculiarity is cleverly worked out, so that an agreeable and comprehensive story is the result, we can scarcely say more in its favour. There is a calm, steady tone of sympathy, interest, and even fascination kept up, and few readers will lay it aside with out naving enjoyed its peiusal. We have seldom read a story where the con ceptions of an author have been so clearly defined and so successfully carried into reality ; and in spite of the peculiarity which gives it a distinctive cha lacter ot its own, the reader soon becomes intimately acquainted with the ..caies described and the actors who figure in them. .Nowhere do we rind any falling off in the descriptive portions ; and instead of having our ideas elevated lo a high standard at the outset, only to discover the writer incapable of keep ing them there, we are surprised to find how steadily she has led us up to her (,wn height, which proves higher than we had given her credit for being able lo attain.

We mean to say there is much more in her characters than we can see at first, which is all slowly, but surely, brought to light. . . . The story las pleased us ftom its originality and earnestness, and we feel sure that it will also gain favour with uiostreaders." LONDON REVIEW. " 'Paul's Courtship' is deserving of very much praise. It is a work ably planned and cleverly executed. Though it relates, as the title sufficiently in dicates, almost wholly to love, it is re-told with a grace that renders it not only very readable, but often impressive. The effectiveness of most of the incidents in the novel is due to their being always unexpected. But then the incidents are by no means ofa forced growth, 'l^hey rise naturally as the nar lative progresses; and Miss Stretton claims special praise for the art with wliich she suspends anticipation by present interest, that it may not encroach upon, and therefore mar the excitement of the situations, of which every chapter has one more or less good.

Doris is a type of woman common in life and uncommon in novels. Her passions are the passions of flesh and blood. . . "We love her because we sympathize with her; and we sympathize with her because we understand her. And this is true of all the other characters. Scattered throughout the work are touches of true poetry .... Whether Miss Slretton's knowledge of life be from intuition or experience, her delineations are remarkable for their accuracy. ' Paul's Courtship' abounds with promise of a high order." IMPERIAL RETIEW. ■ We think highly of the book and of the talents of the authoress. The book calls itself a novel* but the substance is too -rood for the form. Many readers would pronounce it -spun out' and we fear that most would condemn it as rather dull. As to the last point everybody must decide for himself ■ but ' spun out' ' Paul's Courtship' certainly is not, if by ' spun out' be meant that 1 here is any of what is now technically called padding in it, or that irrelevant matter is unnecessarily introduced, or relevant matter dwelt upon at super fluous lenglh.

Chapter I. The English Doctor

You have asked me, Sir John, to give you some particulars of my early days. I am so much indebted to you and your family that I cannot refuse to grant a request which you say will give amusement to yourself and friends ; and you wish your little girl to know the history of the fine Mosaic which she is to wear as a gift from me, in remembrance of her namesake Luisa. I can tell the story of the wearer, and fondly, for her sake, plead and crave some indulgence for the many imperfections of my sketch. My life is full of gratitude, and not only for her love, " which hop ing for nothing again," is a pain to me to think of B UNTHj THE END. with all the pleasure it must afford. You will find much of sorrow in these pages, for they tell the story of human life, and truly— it is the tale without varnish.

I was wandering about when we met in the Sienna night train, my mind chaos— you got out at Empoli. I staid for some days at Pisa, and there we met again; and since that over a good coal fire in the library at Castle Clones we have told our adventures, and you know why I was in Italy at that time. But years before we met are to be recounted, and you will question me about discrepancies the next time I visit Ireland. I do not hope to avoid censure, I can only rectify mistakes when you point them out, but all politics I will avoid ; your young men understand them better than I do; your young ladies read of governmental changes, and would set me right if I required ; but the subject is not my forte. I leave political affairs to newspapers, and will try to paint a series of pictures that will tell all you ask to know.

I wish the colours could all be bright, the deeds be all of gold ; but sunshine and shade in life succeed as day and night, and melancholy will break in, though joy be bright and heart-felt. Some stories are too devoid of foundation and interest, but this narrative creates nothing for the sake of calling up a harrowing sensation ; scenes of woe are consistent with this probatio nary state ; but the heart may throb and the eye will gleam, wherever good people and their works are portrayed, and where forgetfulness of self calls forth fine actions. You may be surprised at the English spirit, but the people are English, with the exception of Panizzi and myself, and we are surely adopted children of your brave country ; all our best years have been in England. Now and then an allusion to my name calls for explanation ; people observe " Paul Rinaldi ; that must be Italian ;" but I need not repeat to you that I am now alone in the world, and give my story in return for benefits.

Nor am I weary of my days. I have come to that stage when, having suffered all, one is patient ; and if the fire burns low, it is steady. There is not the roaring com bustion of long ago, or the flickering, darting flames which follow freshly-added fuel — all the cinders that were to drop have dropped, and the remaining embers glow quietly, and will gradually die out. Is my simile a remembrance of our meeting B UXTIL THE END. that night, when the lights of station after station burst upon us, and we stretched our legs, then settled ourselves with ingenuity to keep warm, and yet not to go too fast asleep ; for you were to meet acquaintances at Empoli, and had a great dread lest you might rush beyond your stopping place. I must speak with respect of my father, whose views upon all subjects were strong, and on political ones were of a day gone by, which all his efforts could not restore.

Mine, even in early youth, were so dissimilar, that they gave him in tense pain, and I have a strange antagonistic feeling towards all he said and did, which will linger and cast its influence over the sacred calm which attaches us to the dead, even if affection for the living were not strong. A son cannot blame his dead father, so there are many details concerning my family and country which must be hastily passed over on that account. My father endured all for sake, and suffered himself to be led to the dungeon for it. Everyone has read how terrible prison life is in lovely Naples ; how prisoners were led forth from time to time to undergo long interrogations — till nothing proven, hope deferred, and semi-starva tion undermined the constitution. It was so with my father, whose fine frame wasted in slow torture, in impatient desires for the service of his country ; till the poor brain wandered, the tongue could speak no more ; and in its slow and certain course, prison life decayed, and finally gave in, and life eternal began.

They said my father was a martyr. I say his wife was yet a braver. She bore up under sorrow and confiscation, managed for us the little residue, saw her hopes decline, her aspirations dwindle, and met destruction and devastation with heroism — hunger kept on the door sill and her strength increased : her endurance makes her a sacred sub ject with me. She bore with fortitude the change from extreme prosperity — for her family were noble and my father wealthy — to abject poverty, struggling up the steep, rugged way as it opened up. And she is also numbered with the dead ; her soul in Paradise. Antonio and Estella dei Rinaldi have no other monument than this — their son's heart. Bear with me, good Sir John, if I have told you of my mother before. Set it not down to the garrulity of age, wliich is given to repetition ; ascribe to it a higher motive.

I am not ashamed to love my mother tenderly, and I have known the best and truest men, those who respectfully treated their mother. So I am not alone, and I claim this as my one virtue. You may think I dwell, perchance, too long upou the past, and to you the present is to be more enjoyed : it is not the memory of my an cestors which causes this, you will confess in due time, as I give you tableaux in succession ; and if I fail to make you comprehend me, do not I implore attribute it to the what is called difficulty of the English language, for I pride myself on having matter of fact knowledge of your tongue, with its beauties or its idioms. You will confer a favour rather to rail at my stupidity than to impugn my grammar. My first picture shall give my little sister. Such a child ! she seemed to belong to the angels, and my mother always felt she was only lent to her for a little space.

She was born lovely and with golden hair, which grew long and silky un like another baby. Precocious creature, she be came dear to all in a remarkably indescribable manner; but every one looked on her with a sort of awe, as one looks at a beautiful painting osthe Christ child, or a female saint. They called her " Regina," she was queen of our hearts. This queen was two years old when my father was arrested at our villa. She feared not the strange men, but held to my father's cloak. " Papa mio, anche Regina," she said. " Papa mio" caught her in his arms ; the air from the open portal flung her long golden hair over his shoulder. One of the officers stroked it, I recollect his face softening. " Ma 1 che capegli ! che bella figliuola 1 What hair ! and what a lovely child !" He was harshly reminded by another of delay, and Antonio Rinaldi hopefully gave us his blessing and embraces.

Regina kissed her small hand to him. She was the only one without tears. " Tomera" she said, " he will return." We took it for an omen and dried ours. Four long weary months bore their slow length away and he did return, but all our happiness was gone, comfort vanished ; dread and uncertainty our constant guests. I will not blame him. His acts and words were fatal, in a few years change and decay became our lot — death had relieved him. Having wrestled long enough, Regina's beauty now became a means of support to her mother. For many a piece of fine sculpture she was model. Hebe at one time, Psyche at another ; an angel, a nymph, a youthful muse ; her features were so perfect, the marble was only less calm and happy than her expression. She seemed to have no human passions, no weakness, no pride; she sat for painters with the placid assurance that the price they paid was for her family's support : so she accepted it, and men treated her with a great solemn respect as if an angel indeed had conferred on them the favour of sitting for her portrait !

Meanwhile my two brothers and I picked up what learning we could. A priest was our tutor, who knew of my father's fate and all our story ; in former days the Villa Rinaldi had showered hospitality and favour upon him; in adversity the good Padre recollected it and taught Antonio's sons. Lorenzo worked hard at his Latin books ; he hoped to be able to pass as Avocato ; poor fellow, law reading was hard work under his poor circumstances, but our good priest led him on — he toiled nobly ; it was a hard field ; poverty and a harsh world were bad helpers. Giacomo could not bear up, his strength was not proof against ill fortune, he could not read. The Padre's efforts were of no avail ; besides, he was ' fanatico per la musica,' as his master said. He was implored to pay attention to his studies.

Padre Matteo explained that without education his fine voice would serve him the less, and might not support him, whereas if accompanied with some amount of knowledge, a thousand roads to fortune might be gained. Then who was to pay a Maestro . Giacomo practised his voice unceasingly, and with such pertinacity as showed his heart went with it. Poor Giacomo! his perseverance and determination were great. For me ; a plan was prepared for me to study physic. I hated the idea of being a doctor, for I self that without money I could do so little, and must be content with a very humble sphere. Estella, my mother, had pleased herself thus far with being near her Antonio, or the prison where he died. Our villa and property gone, she was advised to leave Naples, but she lingered with a fond wife's weakness until she became convinced that her sons must be separated.

Death and confiscation are enemies against which one connot combat. Regina's image is every where in Naples ; in my old age I have recognised her features again and again. I cannot portray all we suffered yet before we left the kingdom of Naples, no longer our home ; but one tried to re-assure the other, and we went over the early days when life dawned auspiciously, and related stories of old favourite domestics, till the day arrived when yet another page must be turned over— we turned to a fresh place and found a blank. Pisa was our destination, Padre Matteo having here enlisted friends in my behalf. My mother took up her abode there with the bitter tears and dread of the future which only a woman feels, who has lost all hope except her children's affection, and for them she can do nothing.

Our arrangements were scarcely entered into, and my new life beginning, when the friend to whom the priest consigned us died ; and a few days after brought the news of Padre Matteo's death also, so a time of bitter trial set in — we were unknown, poor, and friendless. Regina could embroider, and wrought hard at gold thread and silk. She hid her beauty at Pisa, and strange to say it did not fade, only becoming more and more ennobled. Giacomo came in radiant one morning. A priest had detected his melodious notes and asked him to sing in his choir, the peculiar quality suited what he wanted, and Giacomo closed with him at once, for he was to bring a trifle towards the house purse. " Oh !" said the mother, " call this an engage ment ? Would to Heaven it had been at the San Carlo." "Ah, mother," said Regina, "the theatre at Naples would have been a snare to Giacomo ; he will sing holy words now for his soul's benefit."

" E vero figliuola mia. Iddio mi perdoni 1" During a scanty time for us, when Pisa was quite empty, and but trifling work occupied Re gina, Estella daily wept her Antonio, and one day in the Campo Santo encountered Signor Luigi Sacchini. How they became friends I cannot tell, but shortly his daughter Marietta brought an order for delicate needle-work ; and the family of Sacchini became our earthly providence. Proud of her little patronage, Marietta got orders unlimited for embroidery, and Regina overdid her labours, it was tempting to finish piece after piece, and see comparative plenty for reward. I knew she felt ill by the hot fingers which met mine, or the burning lips and radiant eyes which saluted me after my share of study was over, and she sat working on cheerfully, and without caring for herself.

Those bright looks deceived even our mother, who began to talk of a little sum to be amassed for what I did not know, till one evening Regina said, " The Signor Sacchini, glorious man, goes to Florence to-morrow, and my Paolo is to be with him." " How ? Regina ? I go to Florence !" " It is so. He has admired my brother's talents, and sought at Pisa all accounts of him, and finds my Paolo worthy to be introduced to a friend in Florence, with whom he will attend lectures and study medicine in earnest, see the Museums, and all he requires." " It is too much, Regina. Send Lorenzo. Your friends can make him great in the law, as well as me in physic, and he pines to behold Florence ; I am contented with you — happier here." It seemed a new thought. Regina pondered over it. It pleased her to have me stay.

" Come, mamma mia, we must go now, or it will be too late ; come, let us try Lorenzo's for tune first, and before we sleep we shall know which brother is to leave us." They began to attire themselves — I felt in rap tures at my decision. UNTIL THE EXD. " Take Lorenzo with you," I said, " his hand some face will plead for the change." I went to seek him and explained the mission ; he was in a delirium of joy. It was late when they returned. Lorenzo was to go to Florence, and I was to have an interview with Signor Sacchini before he left in the morning. Marietta came into the hall as we were in con versation. She looked at me with curiosity, and I could divine a sensation of disappointment which crossed her mind. Regina had painted her Paolo too highly. Marietta found Lorenzo more to her mind — handsome, gay Lorenzo.

Her great dark eyes shed their lustre on me for an instant. I did not like them ; they were full of light, but no peace in them. A look of per fidy. Eyes such as Marietta's gave no glad sen sation of trust. Had those orbs been different, the expression of them more concordant with my ideas, I might not have felt so satisfied when the interview was over ; so content to waive all right to patronage in favour of my brother; so pleased when the last salutation was finished and Marietta no longer could pierce me with her satirizing gaze. In two months Lorenzo sent us word that he was established, how well he went on, how his happiness was complete. He told of his punctual attendance to his studies, of his promised success, and a host of tempting glories in Florence which he hoped, with the impetuosity of his age, would bring his mother and Regina to rejoice with him.

" And sculptors and painters here," he said, " will bow down before Regina's beauty — it will be hailed and appreciated amongst the highest, who will be at her feet." Regina said she would no more parade the gift of God ; she sought rather to veil her beauty now, and wore her splendid hair tightly braided round her beautiful head as if she wished to hide its glories. Her small ears had no ear-rings, and her neck no necklace. Most rich Italians wear some jewellery constantly, and our mother wore heir looms of the Rinaldi family as regularly as she wore her gown. Her beauty was gone, no vestige of it remained. Her black tresses were dragged off her face giving it the hard, tight, worn and old expression which Italian women have ; but to part with her few jewels would have been impossible ; habit rendered them requisites.

Winter came, and with it Giacomo, in sickness ; he had over-strained his lungs, and was spitting blood. A doctor was called in, and, after the fashion ef the time, he bled his remaining strength away. How poor Giacomo sorrowed over his case, how he pitied himself as an encumbrance. The spring came so beautifully, it was sad to see him slowly dying. Day after day as I passed the Campanile to my college I met a Medico Inglese, who was one of the numerous visitors that season. I liked his face, and anxiety for Giacomo made me bold. I had thought of it often, but one day I abruptly stopped him saying, " Scusi, Signore, il mio fratello." " Che ha." " Mai di petto, e molto ammalato." " Anch'io," said he, sadly. The Englishman had come to Pisa, having spit blood himself the autumn before, and I had not surmised it; his fresh complexion was so different from my brother's sallow, hollow cheeks.

He was very courteous, and listened to my account of Giacomo's attack and previous exer tions, and osthe treatment of our doctor. " What made you think of me ?" he asked, with a smile. I explained my own studies, and the respect which I had for English systems, and begged him to pardon my audacity. He seemed touched by my brother's case, and he appointed a time for him to visit us. Thus Dr. Scott came to be our daily friend. He spoke Italian perfectly. Our poor home was like a glimpse of heaven to him ; there was Regina's face to shine on him. His visits stirred up what of life there was in Giacomo, and arrested his disease; the bad symptoms ceased ; but we felt poor indeed when Dr. Scott announced one day that he was about to return to England for the summer, and hoped to be in Pisa again by October.

CHx\PTER II. BLOOMSBURY SQUARE. The anemones, tulips, and lilac cistus were over; and the olive and the vine, the corn, the peach blossoms, the varied beauties of Italian country life well forward; and the spring prepara tions in London going on, as I now know them by heart, alive with busy walkers, countless carriages, and shops of every description in their highest state of allurement. All the luxuries of winter, were just giving way to brilliant ribbons, brocaded stuffs, shawls from India or Scotland ; velvet still, though furs had disappeared, and silks of radiant hue for the fair sex ; scarf pins, watches, rings, gloves, and ties of marvellous variety to remind young men that bright long days were come. And for those of riper years temptations in gorgeous furniture ; Turkey carpets, or floral ones, with quaint chairs, chastely coloured hangings, curtains of embroidery imitated from ancient tapestry; c cabinets, carving, inlaid works, enamel, vases, cups, glass, or china ; things curious, and things useful, ready to fill up the gap by winter breakage, to adorn a boudoir, or to render a wife amiable and delighted by re-furnishing her rooms after the tarnish of winter.

I know London so well now with all its requisites, from a sausage machine to a helmet for India, that I must picture it at the time of Dr. Scott's return, when the Regent Circus still had its arcade, the delight of foreigners, and London was London par excellence. Modern London is composed of the whole world. I am anticipating, for my debut in London has yet to be made. There was little time to lose ; my daring had gained a friend. I must try it again. We had exhausted our terms of regret. I rose to walk with the Doctor to his hotel, on the sunny side of the Arno, where travellers form the in habitants. " Do you return alone, Signore ?" I asked. " Yes, unless I find others accidentally going at the same moment." My heart swelled. I said, " You have no courier, no valet, no servant . " " Oh, no ; I am no travelling ' my-lord.' " " Will you accept my services ?"

" My good fellow, you are not a servant." " No, Signore ; but the need of my family — " " I see. I see. You want to help them ; but are you not studying for the profession ." " Sarebbe impossible." " Why impossible ? Yet ? Yes, I suppose it will be," he said ; and then we walked in silence for some seconds, till he said, " What I could afford to give you would be little, very little compared with what they want." " E vero, Signore, ma in questo paese." " That is also true ; in Italy a little goes a long way. Well, I will wait till Monday for you." He stopped, looked at me with his fine, manly, English face and eyes, which had a tender glow in them like a woman's, then put his hand in his pocket and gave me a __10 Bank of England note. At the instant I did not know its value, but I knew that it was money, so I kissed the hand that presented it with fervour.

It was soon exchanged, and produced wealth to* us. I spent but little on my preparations, for I wanted to leave all I could for Giacomo. The youths at the college would have taunted me with bitter jests and gibes that I was become a servant, so I spared them the trouble, by not C going to take leave at the college ; my mother could acquaint any inquirers that my departure was sudden. I said farewell only to one person, the priest to whose care I confided my mother and Regina. He approved of my decision. In these days, railroads would have whirled us out of sight of the leaning Tower far more quickly than it disappeared to Dr. Scott and me, as we drove along the dusty road. I noticed that his expenses must be doubled, for in all things he made me as an equal ; we dined together ; in fact I began to expostulate and request that I might be to him as a servant.

He only laughed, and more and more as days went on we became friends, almost like brothers. I was distressed, but if I showed it, it seemed to annoy him, so I had to accept his bounty. We arrived at his home in Bloomsbury Square ; it had seemed a long journey, and I wanted rest for my thoughts. A weight was on my soul about my future. An elderly lady met us in the en trance hall. " Well, Henry, I hope you are quite restored in health," she said, with a stately voice and manner as she majestically led the way to a handsome dining-room. It was my first evidence of the word comfortable. " Aunt, I had no time to tell you that I bring with me, as friend, an assistant, a young Italian ; Paolo Rinaldi is his name." " My will or wishes can have nothing to do in the case, Henry. Your house is your own, and your guests of your own choosing.

Foreigners can be nothing to me. I neither understand their ways nor their tongue. " Do not fear, Aunt Sarah, this is no out landish savage as you seem to fancy. He is a right good fellow." I understood their words, and came forward to the rescue by asking the Doctor where he would wish me to place his baggage,^ which was heaped in disorder as yet where the hackney coachman had left it. " True, true," he said, and he took me to his own apartments. " Paolo, remember, now, you are my assistant. I will have nothing menial, there is a fellow here to take our luggage and to mind us both. You shall read and study, and help me." Tears filled my eyes. I could not speak, Days passed by. Dr. Scott resumed his visits to patients, the locum tenens departed ; for a gentleman on whom he could confide had resided in his house all the winter, and had discharged what duties he could for him.

The study became my home. I dined with the Doctor and his aunt, and though I thought her a stern, cold woman at first, she grew more gracious as my English improved, and she became accustomed to Henry's assistant. I read hard, it was the least I could do ; I went out very little, seldom without Dr. Scott, whose society was all I cared for, and we spoke gener ally of professional matter ; in fact " talked shop" a good deal, as the present day phrase expresses it. I had been some time in Bloomsbury Square, when, without preface, Dr. Scott took me up stairs one day and ushered me into a room where a young man about twenty was lying on a mattress. He was pale as death ; the first call on my brain by the image led me to think some terrible acci dent had occurred, which caused him to be stretched there.