Chapter XXXIV: Yachting

"Let us be like the bird for a moment perched
On a frail branch while he sings,
Though he feels it bend, yet he sings his song,
For he knows he has his wings."--VICTOR HUGO.

"You look pale, Nita; I am afraid the fright of last night has done you harm," said Carlo, coming into the Merlinos' private sitting-room the next morning. "It is just as well that the damage done to the theatre will prevent our keeping this engagement. They say the place is to be closed for a fortnight, and after the horrors that went on in the crush last night it is only decent."

"The wonder is that more were not killed," said Nita, with a shudder. "Oh, I am so glad not to have to sing again to-night; I should always be hearing again that horrible cry."

"Do not dwell on it, think of something else, it has made you look quite ill," said Carlo, debating whether he should talk to her of his own happiness, but coming to the conclusion that she seemed too sad, and that it would be better not to touch on the subject.

"It is not the fright that has made me ill," she said at length. "I must tell you, Carlino, all about it. Comerio has been here."

"Here this morning!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," she shivered from head to foot, "and I made him own that Mlle. de Caisne knew nothing of that advertisement. He got her to write the letter easily enough, for you know she was vexed with you, and he made her believe that it was Miss Flora Britton whom you were in love with, and then he posted the letter for her, and put in the cutting from the _Times_. Just think of his boasting to me of the cleverness of the trick!"

Carlo, with a muttered ejaculation, paced hurriedly to and fro, trying to keep his indignation within bounds.

"He told me how he had got it printed," she continued, "and expected me to praise him for it."

"And you?" asked Carlo, with dawning hope in his tone.

"I told him that I would never speak to him again," said Nita, trying in vain to repress a sob. "But, Carlino, I am afraid of him, so terribly afraid. He looked as if he could have killed me, and just went away without another word. Oh, if only I had never seen him! If only I had believed, like you, that nothing is impossible, and had resisted from the first! But he was always so strong, and I so weak and friendless."

"But you have resisted now," said Carlo, trying to comfort her. "And as to fearing what he may do, I would try not to trouble about it, for, depend upon it, he values his own safety too much to do anything desperate; besides, if evil is strong, good is more strong."

"It doesn't seem to be in this world, at any rate," said Nita.

"Do you think not? Perhaps it doesn't always conquer here at first, but that matters little if in the end it wins."

"You will not leave me?" she pleaded. "If you leave the Company my last chance is gone. Ah, do you remember how I hoped at Birmingham that you would go, and that Comerio would take your place? If he had spent those two years in America with us I should have been in his power now."

She shuddered, for something had shown her that morning the true nature of the man whom she had loved.

"I will never leave you," he said, quietly.

Through those three years of lonely work he had struggled on, bearing Nita's selfish indifference, her fits of perverse ill-nature, and not daring to look on to the future. Now the change had come upon him so suddenly that he was almost overpowered by it. He had reaped the reward which can only come to those who live by the day; having toiled faithfully through the darkness, he emerged suddenly into a flood of glorious sunshine.

"An English gentleman to see you, signor, in the _salotto_" announced a waiter.

Carlo's heart beat quickly as he went downstairs, yet he was less embarrassed than Captain Britton, who met him with an overpowering shake of the hand, and then relapsed into silence.

"Francesca is none the worse for the fright, I hope?" asked Carlo, anxiously.

"Indeed, I think she is all the better for it," said the Captain, smiling a little.

There was another silence.

"The fact is, Donati," resumed Captain Britton, dragging his chair forward with a business-like air, and planting both elbows on the table; "there is no use in beating about the bush; I have come here to ask you a plain question, and I hope you'll give me a plain answer. Do you still care for my child or not? Just answer me yes or no."

The bluff speech of the old sailor nearly took away the Italian's breath, but if Captain Britton really expected him to answer in a monosyllable to such a question he was disappointed.

His face glowed, his eyes shone, yet, spite of the passionate eagerness of his tone, there was a dignity in his manner which appealed to the Englishman.

"I love her, sir, with my whole heart!" he said. "I love her, and must always love her. We belong to each other, and though we may have to go through life apart, yet she is mine and I am hers, and nothing can come between us."

"So it seems," said the Captain, rather ruefully. "Well, I frankly tell you that I would rather see my daughter married to a plain working-man than to an opera-singer; but I have talked the matter over with my brother and Miss Claremont, and since your love has stood the test of a three-years' absence, and since Francesca will not lend an ear to any other proposals, I am bound to consider what is most for her happiness, though I can't candidly tell you that it is such a match as I should have chosen for her."

"Indeed," exclaimed Carlo, with a lover's genuine humility; "I know I can never deserve her, but----"

"Nonsense," interrupted the Captain; "I meant nothing personal of that sort! You know well enough, Carlo, that I am very fond of you, that I can never forget that you saved her life----" He began to feel choked, and broke off abruptly.

"As to that," said Carlo, smiling, "it was nothing at all. We only sat still when others were running away, and I really think we forgot fire and danger altogether at first."

"Let us speak out plainly once for all," said Captain Britton, clearing his throat, "and then have done with it altogether. I dislike your profession, but I understand that you have a great future before you in the musical world, and I suppose nature meant you for an opera-singer, and that there is no use in running one's head any longer against a stone wall. After all, a man need not be affected by his work, and perhaps dramatic talent was meant to be used. I don't deny that there's something in that argument. And the great thing is that the stage doesn't seem to have spoilt you, and that I know you'll make my child a good husband."

Between his rapture of happiness, his anxiety not to irritate the Englishman by allowing his feelings to appear too plainly, and his dazzling visions of the future, Carlo found his powers taxed to the utmost. But with an effort he forced himself to enter into a sober discussion of the case, recalled to Captain Britton's memory the fact that Uncle Guido's inheritance had gladdened the hearts of the Little Sisters of the Poor, and then told him plainly just how matters stood with regard to Anita.

The Captain was touched by his simple yet very graphic way of telling a story. He began faintly to perceive the rare beauty of his character.

"You are going to Naples now, at once, did I understand?" he asked, when at length Carlo paused.

"We thought of going there now, since the theatre will be closed after this panic, and our engagement at the San Carlo will soon be beginning. My brother-in-law is going to take a fortnight at the baths at Lucca, for he has not been well lately. I shall go home to Naples with Nita and her little boy."

"Then come with us in the _Pilgrim_" said the Captain. "My brother begged that you would do so, and Sibyl will be enchanted to have the little boy as a playmate."

After Nita had been consulted, and the matter had been a little more discussed, the invitation was accepted, and by the evening a general dispersion had taken place. Merlino had gone off to his course of baths; Sardoni and Domenica had started joyfully on what they called their second wedding tour to the Italian lakes; Carlo, Nita, and Gigi, were welcomed on board the _Pilgrim_; and, in advance of all, Comerio, with hatred in his heart, was making the best of his way to Corsica.

Although, as Carlo had observed when he first set foot on the yacht years ago, the _Pilgrim_ was not at all a place for talking secrets, yet the lovers were somehow well content, and enjoyed to the full those happy days of reunion. The rest of the party had a kind way of playing whist in the saloon when it grew dark; and as to the man at the wheel they were quite untroubled by his presence, nor disturbed themselves at all about the watch, who discreetly kept to the forecastle end, and no doubt found plenty to say among themselves as to the betrothal, which was now an acknowledged fact.

"It is almost too good to seem true," said Carlo one evening, as they sat together under the square-sail which was spread to catch the light summer wind. On one side they could see the dark Italian coast, on the other the beautiful outline of the mountains in Elba, while the moon made an ever-shifting track of light on the sea as they glided gently on, and the red light from the port side cast a ruddy glow on the white sail towering above them. "How little I thought," he added, "of having such a home-coming."

"Yes," said Francesca; "and that it should have been in the dear old _Pilgrim_! How strange that is! I used to be so miserable here three years ago, and now it does seem, as you say, almost to good too be true."

And the same happy faculty for living in the present, which had stood Carlo in good stead through his years of trouble, helped now to make his happiness perfect. No lurking fear of Comerio spoilt those cloudless days, no anxieties as to Nita's future, no troubles as to money matters. Marriage seemed still a far-away prospect, but they were betrothed, and there could never again be between them that wearing separation, that maddening dependence on outsiders for the least news of each other.

"I had heard nothing of you for two months," said Francesca, as again, to make their present brighter by contrast, they talked over the troubles of the past; "but that was better than having false news. You have had the hardest part, darling, and yet you'll never know how bitter it was to me in one way."

"What way?" he asked, tenderly.

"I couldn't tell you at Merlebank, but it was knowing that you were so poor, and having money myself, and not being able to help you. Ah! you'll never know how hard it was to be able to give to any one in the world except to the one you love best. There is a little matter-of-fact bit in _Aurora Leigh_ which I used to say for comfort."

"What was that? Say it to me now."

"'Let us be content in words,
To do the thing we can, and not presume
To fret because it's little."

"I did fret, though, for, after all, we are most of us like _Alice in Wonderland_,--very fond of giving ourselves good advice, but seldom taking it!"

They laughed a little, and now it was the trouble that seemed like a dream, and the happiness that had become true, and real, and indisputable. And together they paced the quiet deck, while below Nita's sweet, clear voice sang the familiar air of "_Oh, dolce Napoli_," which Francesca loved because of its happy associations.

"See Naples and die!" said Carlo, smiling. "I often thought, over in America, that I would gladly have done so; but now I think not, _Carina_, much as I love it. Let us hope people in real life don't die of joy."