A Sicilian Legacy: or, the Journey of a Quartette

Front matter

NOW READY. AT EVERY LIBRARY. WITHERED LEAVES. & i&obrl, BY RUDOLF VON GOTTSCHALL, From the German, By BERTHA NESS Translator of Werner's "Riven Bonds" and "Sacred Vows.' 3 Vols., 31s. 6d. " ' Withered Leaves ' is a highly effective novel cleverly constructed, full of varied incident, excellently written, and indicating the accomplished literary craftsman on every page." — Saturday Review on the German Edition. REMINGTON & Co., 5, Arundel Street, Strand, W.C. : OR THE JOURNEY OF A QUARTETTE. B> KATE ROSS. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. ILorrtion : REMINGTON AND CO., 5, Arundel Street, Strand. W.C. l879- [AU Rights Reserved.]

Chapter I

"OUR WILLS AND FATES DO SO CONTRARY RUN, THAT OUR DEVICES STILL ARE OVERTHROWN." " Ailie, dear, will you come out ? " " The very thing I am longiDg to do, Fred." " There's a good girl — we will go for a nice little drive by ourselves." "But papa and Aunt Mona ? " " Prefer spending the afternoon in the garden ; they have found it out, and are de lighted. I have just left them on a seat under some olive trees, eating oranges and looking quite romantic." " Oh, is that your idea of romance, Fred?" " Quizzing ought to be fined ; but I see an vol. lr. . B idle fly out at the gate, suppose we appropriate it." The fly had just returned from conveying a widow lady to her country house, but the horse had refreshed on a bunch of greens, and was ready to start with the cousins. They drove through the town.

It was the most peculiar one they had ever seen. Boedeker calls it clean, but the amount of refuse which they saw exposed, in the course of that single drive, would have driven an English inspector of nuisances out of his mind. One or two of the streets presented a most curious appearance, for the reason that their paving stones had been lowered some years before by several feet. The foundations of the houses, formed of substantial but irre gular boulders of lava, were thus laid bare, and the effect was more peculiar than sightly. A further awkwardness was also the result of this street-sinking process— the front doors, which had originally abutted on the stones of A SICILIAN LEGACX". the street, were now raised so far above it, that exit or entrance was only possible by means of wooden ladders, and these had been made as clumsily as possible.

The people about looked dirty and uninte resting, and stared and laughed at the two English strangers. The women wore neither hats, bonnets, nor caps, but put their shawls over their heads in place of drawing them round the shoulders. Ailie was glad when they came to the better parts of the town, and appreciated the Piazza del Duomo, with its fountain and ele phant bearing the ancient obelisk, but she was by no means sorry when they followed the Strada Etnea, and so got clear of the town. The country road, to be sure, was exe crable, but there was a true Italian sky above it, and the sunshine all around. " Fred," said Ailie, " I thought you would have called on your Catanian man of business to-day. Are you not longing to see your property ? "When we were in that de licious garden at Messina yesterday, I was wondering if yours would be anything like it."

St. Frederick bent his head very close to hers and took her hand in his own, as he answered softly — " Say ' ours,' not ' yours,' my dear Ailie." Ailie did not draw her hand away, but she blushed very deeply, and said earnestly — " Fred, dear Fred, I would rather you did not talk to me in that way. You must not take for granted what may never be." Before he could reply, the fly had stopped at the gates of a highly ornate little villa. "Villa Bianca" was written on the pillars. Ailie glanced at her cousin with a quick look of intelligence. "Yes, Ailie, dear, this is the place. I wished to give you a little surprise, so did not say we were going to it. I thought it would be so nice to see it alone together for the first time." For answer, Ailie gave his hand a little glad pressure as he helped her out of the " They were right to translate the name to Bianca, Fred. ' Villa White ' would not be nearly so pretty — but have you the keys ?

" " There's an old woman in charge. As I don't mean to take possession till I come in due form with Signor Scala, the man of busi ness here, we need not let the old woman know to-day that we have anything to do with it, but just simply to look over it, like any other strangers." As he spoke, the housekeeper appeared, and the cousins followed her through the length of a trellised avenue, which led them on to a plot of the greenest grass. A grove of olives stretched beyond, and the dim shade of their dusky leaves merged in the distance into the brilliant hues of an orange garden. On the near side a series of 2;ig--zaoterraces led round to the bright little house ; the terraces were gay with flowers, and the slopes with trees that were sweet with blossom. A tiny fountain played in the centre of the lawn ; the water trickled from the mouths of marble fishes, held by a marble boy In the basin a fleet of gold fish were placidly swim ming.

" How beautiful it all is in this sweet, soft afternoon light," said Ailie, pausing, as sho and St. Frederick were following their guide up a terraced walk. " Yes ; more beautiful, indeed, than I had expected ; but you little know how your presence adds to the charm of it — to me." " I see," said Ailie, looking down de murely on her grey dress, " you find this neutral tint enhances the brightness around." " Is it the effect of the neutral grey that is enhancing the brightness of your face just now ? Look up, Ailie — look at me." But she turned aside her head, and in doing so was caught in a bough of a stray orange tree. "E permesso?" asked St. Frederick of their conductress, taking out his penknife. "Si-si, Signor," she willingly responded. So the offending branch was cut, and St. Frederick twined it in Ailie's hat, saying gaily the while — " The first fruits of my garden, you see, Ailie, come naturally to you, of their own accord."

Ailie said archly she thought they were more like flowers than fruits. " To be perfectly exact," retorted St. Frederick, " I believe we ought to call them blossoms — orange blossoms — Miss Ailie. Now the use of orange blossom — " She did not allow him to continue, but he gathered an orange from the same tree, and presented it to her, saying significantly — " The first fruits and the first flowers are both to you, dear Ailie." Ailie smiled as she accepted the tribute, yet her cousin noted that her eyes had filled with tears. He brushed them softly away as they stood under the orange tree. Then the glow on Ailie's cheeks was a little brighter than before, but not wishing to appear too conscious,shelaughed lightly, saying, "thank you, Fred, but you might rather have scolded me for going into a ' maudling' condition in the midst of such lovely surroundings, but look, our old cicerone is coming back for us.

I shall ask her, just for fun, who is the owner of this very pretty place." And Ailie did so in her best Italian, and the woman under stood, and replied, with great readiness, " that it belonged to La Signora Bianco." " La Signora Bianco ? " repeated St. Frederick and Ailie in the same breath. " Si signor," replied the old donna, with a confident gesture of her head. " The old signor is dead, also his son is dead — the signora is the wife of his son." The cousins looked at one another in surprise. The woman, thinking that they either did not believe, or did not understand her, said, waving her hand towards the daintily painted walls above, " La Signora e nella Casa." "The signora in the house!" cried St. Frederick, in dismay. " Ailie, what can this mean ? That scheming woman must have come and established herself.

Was that what she meaut by amicable arrangement ! But what nonsense I am talking. She could not have got possession without the lawyer's knowledge." " Perhaps it can be explained quite simply," said Ailie. " Had you not better see her, Fred ? " "No, indeed, the interview could not be a very pleasant one." Then turning to their guide, he asked if this signora lived in the house? " Oh, no," was the answer. " She had not come to live there yet, but she loved the place so much she came every day, and spent some hours there, and loved to talk about her husband, who was dead, and to hear all that she (the housekeeper) could tell her about his excellency, the old signor, his father. And she was, indeed, a sweet spoken, sweet faced signora, and would, no doubt, be pleased to see their excellencies."

While she talked they had been all slowly ascending the terrace, and now found themselves at the foot of a spiral staircase which wound up from the garden to the broad platform that ex tended in front of the windows of the principal rooms of the Casetta. Almost mechanically the cousins ascended the stair case to the platform. It was paved with tiles of varied tints, a marble balustrade sur rounded it ; chairs, with awnings, were scattered about. As to the view, the beauty of it was indescribable. The wonderful profusion of flowers at their feet, the acacias, the aloes, the ilex trees ; the groves and gardens of olives and arancie, the hedges of cactus and prickly pear ; and, above all, the great snow mountain, with its tree-girt sides, and the villages nestling f earlessly at its base, all these made up a striking landscape.

While the cousins were still gazing upon it, one of the glass doors on the terrazza opened. They turned at the sound, " La Signora," said the old woman significantly. A graceful figure, in deepest mourning, with a sweet fair face, and golden hair curling low upon the forehead, stepped out and tendered a hand. " Cecilia ! " exclaimed St. Frederick, in blank surprise. Ailie, too, was extremely astonished to see the Signora Bianco reveal ing herself in the person of Mr. Droning's niece — perhaps she was also a trifle surprised to hear her cousin addressing the lady familiarly by her Christian name. She accepted, nevertheless, the proffered hand, as she looked sorrowfully and searchingly in the widow's waxen face, but words for her she had none. Then St. Frederick gravely took her hand, and Cecilia retained it, whilst she said, with the air of a little tragic queen, " My friend, the hour for helping me has come, you shall now fulfil your promise."

Then she gently dropped his hand, and motioned him into one of the terrazza chairs, she herself sinking gracefully into another. To Ailie, also, she would have done the honours of the place, but Ailie came over to her cousin, and said, simply, " Fred, I will wait you by the pond where thegoldfish are." He would rather have detained her, but she slipped quietly away down the ornamental cork-screw staircase. Cecilia was well pleased at this delicate move. She glanced furtively at St. Frederick, waiting his reply. When it came it was not ex actly what she had anticipated. " Cecilia," he said, " you have placed us both in a very painful position. Why were you not candid enough to tell me who you were, more especially when I asked you your married name?" Cecilia arched her eyebrows in aggrieved surprise, and said, in a sweetly reproachful tone — " But, my dear friend, Frederick (laying her hand upon his arm) you forget that I had not a notion that you were interested in the name of Bianco, Anglice White, you forget that you observed complete reticence about your own affairs until that last evening.

And even then you mentioned no names. Do you think I would not have told you had I known ? It would have been only too great a relief to find that my dread opponent was no unfeeling usurper, but a generous being, whose sympathies I already possessed. Do you not see that it would have been to my interest to have told you ? I was struck, myself, by the similarity of the circumstances between the disinherited widow you men tioned and myself, but little did I think when I was pleading her cause so earnestly, that it was for myself I was speaking. Oh, no ! (covering her face with her hands) I could not have said all the things I did if that thought had once occurred to me. The truth is, I fancied my property was near Messina. You said yours was in the neighbourhood of Catania. And believe me, my friend, (you are still my friend ?

Oh, yes, Frederick, you must bj my friend more than ever now that our interests turn out to be the same). I was as surprised as you are now when I heard, in the office of Signor Scala, the name of the gentleman who claimed the property. I would have written, but feared the letter might miss you." St. Frederick made no reply. He would have risen to go away, but Cecilia tacitly de tained him with her little baby-plump hand that lay on his sleeve. Then pouting her red coral lips, she said, in a tone that was a curious mixture of honey and petulance — " I think I shall turn the tables now, and ask why did you not tell me that it was the Bianco Villa you had come to seize ? " But her pretty playfulness was lost upon St. Frederick, and though it was such a dear little hand that lay upon his arm, he made no effort to touch it.

The little widow saved him the trouble by sliding it down into his. " Frederick," she said, half coaxingly, half reproachfully, " you are vexed with me — but why ? " "Well, Cecilia, I cannot very well tell you. I do not like to doubt your word, but surely when I told you in that corridor of the Hotel di Roma that the telegram I had received proposed an amicable settlement of affairs, you must have recognised your own words, for you must have despatched that telegram to Signor Bosco yourself." " Of course I did ! " cried Cecilia, frankly. " I had just sent it off when you met me at the post-office in the morning. How very ridiculous if wehad known it,but not knowing, I considered it merely in the light of a co incidence. By-the-by, that's a favourite word of my uncle's ; he is always seeing coinci dences."

" And why did you so suddenly, after that last conversation, leave Rome for Sicily ?" " You said I ought to have been a special pleader," quoth Cecilia, " but I am sure you would have been invaluable as a crossexaminer. It was a note from Signor Scala here, that induced me to come so quickly — that, and my own judgment. Did you find my farewell note ? You did not look out for me to say good-bye." St. Frederick was strangely absent in mind. He seemed not to hear the questions, but taking Cecilia's hand thathad been so graciously vouchsafed to him, he restored it kindly, yet decisively, to the owner, rising as he did so, and saying, firmly — " We need discuss this matter no further. I will instruct my solicitor what to do." A gleam of anger shot through Cecilia's eyes. Its transit occupied but an infinitesimal portion of a second, but St. Frederick observed its passage.

In that same fraction of time he had received a revelation of Cecilia's character. Cecilia did not know that he had caught that fleeting evil expression — yet the subtlety of her mind was wonderful. She also rose to her feet. " Yes," she said, " let us walk up and down the terrazza while we finish our conversation. What," looking up at him with confiding innocence, " what shall you tell your solicitor ? I cannot plead for myself, you know, but I feel that there is for that no occasion, for if you promised to try and right me with some supposed avaricious stranger, how much more will you be anxious to remove my wrongs, now that you find them lying in your own hands ? Yes, you are kind, and good, aud generous, and I need not fear that you will deal more hardly with me than you would have done with another.

As you proposed dividing the property with her, the unknown, I can be in no doubt about your doing so with me whom you know, and, if I do not flatter myself, whom you like just a little ! " She paused for some answer. St. Frederick could scarce suppress a smile at her astuteness. " If you remember, it was you, Cecilia, who suggested the division." "No matter which of us suggested it. You VOL. II. c can see the fairness of it, I know. Frederick, you are no man of the world, bebased by selfishness and sin ; your mind is pure and clear. You are a clergyman ; you believe in heaven. In the sight of heaven, I ask you, is not this place more mine than yours ? You see it now for the first time ; you admire it, I can see, but you have no hallowed associa tions connected with it. Now, as to me, I have not known the spot till lately, either, you will say ; not by sight, it is true, but let me tell you this — every nook, every tree, every inch of the ground is familiar from hearing my Carlo talk of them.

My darling was born in this house — here he was brought up. Here his mother and a good old Padre educated him. But his mother died — his wretched father did not understand him, but ill-treated and bullied him, so that Carlo hated him. Do you know the heinous crime for which my darling was turned out of doors ? Simply this : He drew a caricature of his father, who was a very ugly man, as he appeared one day when in one of his outrageous tempers. His father caught him doing it, fell into a fury, and vowed he would have him in the house no longer. Was it not hard punishment ? For that boyish freak, he had to suffer his life long, and now the punish ment falls upon his wife. Frederick (linking her arm within his as they paced the terrace) I have no home ! No friends but my dear old uncle ! He is not wealthy ; it grieves me to add one penny to his expenses.

Rather than be a burden on him, I would teach till I was hoarse, and work my fingers to the bone. But that would be hard lines, when all this ought to be mine ! You have a com fortable Rectory waiting you ; you have friends. You do not need this place, do you, Frederick ? You would not live in it ? You would put some stranger in ; would it not be better that I had it ? Who else would care for it so well? And you could take the money for the sulphur mine." St. Frederick stood still, and leaned over the balustrade. He looked the picture of misery. " Cecilia," he said, " all this pains me very much. I wish I had not allowed myself to be drawn into the discussion. But I think you must leave the arrangements to me. Had I known before Signor Alexandra's death of your existence, and of his intention to will the property to me, I would, believe me, have urged him not to do it.

But as the case stands. Cecilia, I think if I settle on you a comfortable annuity, you will not feel that I have wronged you." " I cannot follow your reasoning. It was simply because my Carlo's father did not know of my existence, that he willed the place to you." St. Frederick looked her full in the face as he said — "When your father-in-law died, Cecilia, you were under the impression that he did know of your existence ? What reason had you for that impression ? " " Cross questioning again," she said, im patiently, " it was a mistaken impression on my part ; he did not know, or would have altered his will, he had begun to repent of his harshness in my Carlo's life-time, for he sent him a present shortly before his death." St. Frederick sighed again, he saw with sorrow the twistings of the mind within that fair body.

" Ailie's estimate of her was the true one," he thought to himself; to her, he said — " Pardon plain speaking, Cecilia, but Signor Bosco acquainted me with the particulars of that ' present.' " Then after a pause, he added, " you said a little while ago that I might have made myself known to you as the claimant of your father-in-law's property, but I had no clue by which to connect you with it. I fancied from what you said that the friends of your husband were alive, but acting unkindly towards you. I knew nothing of the history of Mr. White's son, and therefore never thought of identifying him with your uncle's organist, or an artist in Paris, or an Italian nobleman." Cecilia winced inwardly. She had never mentioned the organist or the artist. He must know more than she had imagined. "I did not care to trouble you with de tails," she replied, "but my Carlo was a noble by birth.

His mother was a Marchesa in her own right. She was a widow when your father's friend paid court to her, and she bestowed herself and this property upon that unworthy man." " And did her son inherit her title ? " Cecilia hesitated : " I think so. At any rate I used to give it to him, and he delighted to call me his Marchesa, or Madame la Marquise." Then feeling that her personal influence was somehow weakened with him, Cecilia drew herself up for a final effort. " Frederick," she said softly, looking up at the same time with a tender appealing look, " let it be as I propose, let me have the house." He stood unmoved and silent. She felt that the silence did not speak consent. " Frederick," she urged again, " you will, will you not ? " " Under the circumstances, Cecilia, I think not." " Not ?

" she echoed bitterly, " you pro mised to stand by me, though all the world should be against me, and now you are against me yourself! Self interest blinds you, and I believed so in your good faith ! I thought we could have settled it all so well together. I am utterly disappointed in you, and (pas sionately), if you will not settle it in this friendly way, I must put it in the hands of the law again." She had withdrawn her hand from his arm, and now looked at him with a defiant expres sion in her clear blue eyes. " As your friend, Cecilia, I advise you not to do that. Believe me, you have no hold on the property." " Ah, ha, that is fromyour point of view ! " " Listen ; you found your claim, I believe, on the supposition that if your father-in-law had known of your existence, he would have altered his will.

I must now tell you, Cecilia, and I do it with reluctance, that Signor Bianco, or White, was aware that he had a daughter-in-law, and yet he did not alter his will." " It is false ! " she exclaimed, stamping her little foot. " How dare you say so ? Your Signor Bosco himself asserts that my Carlo's father was not aware of his marriage. St. Frederick drew out a pocket-book say ing, as he did so — " If you will not believe me, you must know that I have here a proof. Signor Bosco has been guilty of the most unpardonable care lessness, and he owes the deepest apologies to both you and myself. I cannot imagine a man of business habits reading a letter and neglecting the postscript, yet this is what he has done. It seems the postscript was written on a separate half sheet, and Bosco avers that he must have left it unnoticed in the envelope, when he took out the letter.

In o-oinoover the correspondence the other day, he was overwhelmed with surprise by discovering this P.S. in the envelope of one of your father-in-law's letters. But I cannot show it you, it would hurt you very much." But Cecilia insisted on seeing it, she turned very white, and her coral lips faded to the palest pink as she took the thin slip of paper in her hand and read — " Note from my precious son acknowledg ing the money. No word of his health. Suspect he got it out of me on false pretences, for the idiot has gone in for matrimony. A sketch enclosed of his wife (she must have been at a loss for a husband), he once drew a very flattering portrait of myself. Perhaps this one is equally faithful. Whether it be or not, it is not a true looking face. It is as silly as the face of a doll, but if I can read it aright, she's a cunning little baggage, and will give him trouble.

She's not the sort of person that I should like to have about me. But it's no matter to me, for neither one nor the other of them shall ever darken these doors while I'm alive, no, nor after I'm dead." " The wicked, wicked old wretch ! the hate ful old man ! " shrieked Cecilia, tearing the scrap to pieces, and scattering the fragments down among the blossom of a spreading cam panile tree beneath the platform. Then turning to St. Frederick — " Where is the proof now ? " Poor St. Frederick felt sick at heart. Was this the poor helpless, gentle little being who had won his sympathy among the ruins of the Coliseum ? — " I am sorry you insisted on seeing it, Cecilia. I knew it would be painful for you to read." " Nobody shall ever read it again ! " she exclaimed, with a smile that was not a pleasant one.

" Your Signor Bosco had better have left it in its original envelope, he won't see it any more." " Signor Bosco holds the original post script still, that was merely a copy." Then Cecilia covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. Her " slow little game " was played out, and she had not won it. They had been too much engrossed by their conversation to notice that a small cloud no bigger than a man's hand, which had been visible at its commencement, had now com pletely overcast the sky, their first indication of the change in the weather was the falling of some heavy drops of rain. Then a low growl, slowly increasing in volume, rolled up from the distance, and a flash of lightning seemed to pass between them as they stood facing each other. Cecilia screamed, and seized St. Frederick's arm in terror.

"Ailie! Where's Ailie?" he cried, and the accent of his voice revealed to Cecilia where his heart lay. " You must go in," he said to her, leading her to the glass door by which she had come out upon the terrace. She obeyed him shiveringly, and he heard her scream again from within as another and another clap of thunder burst over the roof of the villa. He found Ailie in the park, her umbrella up, and her face untroubled by the storm, glowing with excitement. " Was not that a glorious flash, Fred ? It is like the lightning we saw one night at Naples." " Come in, my darling," he said, he was not in the frame of mind to enjoy the storm as a spectacle. The old casiera, who had been looking after the driver of the fly and his horse, beckoned to the cousins from a side door. They crossed the lawn and entered, she preceded them, muttering prayers along her rosary beads and invoking her saints the while, and led them up inside the house to a spacious salon.

It was the same room which looked on to the broad terrace. On a sofa Cecilia with a scared look on her face was cowering among the cushions. Ailie, from pure womanly compassion, went up to her, but she shrunk away from Ailie's touch. "You must think me such a silly little widow," she said, pointedly. Ailie had quite forgotten that she had ever used the words. " Oh, no ' " she said, " many very brave people are alarmed by thunder and lightning." " And have you no fear ? Oh, my God ! Do you hear that ? What awful power the thunder has here. It must be from the mountain. Oh, I wouldn't live here for anything ! " A blaze of h.ofhtnino' filled the room as she spoke, then came another appalling blast of thunder. Cecilia trembled like a leaf. " Come and take her hand, Frederick," said Ailie, " she is so very nervous.