I had seen Sir Gordon drive off--I had heard the accustomed "_Buon viaggio_" uttered by the whole household in chorus--and now, I was free once more; and so escaping this noisy ceremony of leave-taking, I sauntered listlessly forth, and took my way along the lake. The morning was delicious; a slight breeze from the north, the pleasantest of all the winds on the Lake of Como, was just springing up.

It is here, opposite Varenna, that the lake is widest; but nothing of bleakness results from the greater extent of water, for the mountains are still bold and lofty, and the wooded promontory of Bellagio dividing the two reaches of the lake, is a beautiful feature. Its terraced gardens and stately palaces peeping amid the leafy shade, and giving glimpses of one of the sweetest spots the "Villegiatura" ever lingered in.

I had got a considerable distance from the town of Varenna without feeling it. The enchanting picture, ever presenting some new effect, and the light and buoyant breeze from the water, and a certain feeling of unusual lightness of heart, all aiding, I walked on without fatigue; nor was I aware of the distance traversed, till at a little bend of the lake I saw Varenna diminishing away--its tall poplars and taper spires being now the most conspicuous features of the town.

At a short distance in front of me lay a little creek or bay, from one side of which a wooden pier projected--a station for the steamers that ply on the lake. There now Sir Gordon Howard's phaeton was standing, surrounded with a most multifarious heap of trunks, packing-cases, portmanteaus, and other travelling gear--signs that some portion of his following, at least, were awaiting the arrival of the packet. Nor had they to wait long: for as I looked, the vessel shot round the rocky point and darted swiftly across the smooth water, till she lay scarce moving, about a quarter of a mile from sh.o.r.e,--the shoal water prevented her approaching nearer to the jetty.

With the idle curiosity of a lounger, I sat down on a rock to watch the scene.

I know no reason for it, but I ever take an interest in the movements of travellers. Their comings and goings suggest invariably some amusing pictures to my mind, and many a story have I weaved for myself from nothing but the pa.s.sing glimpses of those landed hurriedly from a steamer.

I watched, therefore, with all my usual satisfaction, the launching of the boat laden heavily with luggage, on the top of which, like its presiding genius, sat a burly courier, his gold-banded cap glistening brightly in the sun. Then came a lighter skiff, in the stern of which sat a female figure, shaded by a pink parasol. There was another parasol in the phaeton too--I thought I could even recognise Sir Gordon's figure in the last boat: but as I looked the sky became suddenly overcast, and round the rocky point, where but a moment before the whole cliff lay reflected in the water, there now came splashing waves, tumbling wildly by, till the whole creek suddenly was covered by them; dark squalls of wind sweeping over the water, tossing the two boats to and fro, and even heaving up the huge steamer itself, till her bows were bathed in foaming cataracts. The suddenness of the tempest--for such it really was--was a grand and sublime "effect" in such a scene: but I could no longer enjoy it, as there seemed to be actual danger in the situation of the two boats, which, from time to time, were hidden between the swelling waves.

At last, but not without a struggle, they reached the packet, and I could plainly see, by the signs of haste on board, that the captain had not been a very willing spectator of the scene. The luggage was soon on board, and the figures of the lighter boat followed quickly after.

Scarcely was this effected when the boats were cast off, and again the paddle-wheels splashed through the water. The gale at this instant increased: for no sooner was the steamer's bow to the wind, than the waves went clean over her, washing her deck from stem to stern, and dashing in columns of spray over the dark funnel. A great stir and commotion on deck drew off my attention from the boats; and now I heard a hoa.r.s.e voice calling through a speaking-trumpet to those in the boats.

They, however, either did not hear or heed the command, for they rowed boldly towards the sh.o.r.e, nor once paid any attention to the signals which, first as a flag, and afterwards as a cannon-shot, the steamer made for them.

While I was lost in conjecturing what possibly all this might mean, the vessel once more rounded to her course, and with full steam up breasted the rolling water, and stood out towards the middle of the lake. A fisherman just then ran his boat in to land, in a little creek beneath me, and from him I asked an explanation of the scene.

"It's nothing, Signor, but what one sees almost every day here," said he, jeeringly: "that '_canaille_' of Pellagino have taken people out to the steamer, and would not wait to bring them back again; and now, they must go to Como, whether they will or no."

This explanation seemed the correct one, and appeared to be corroborated by the att.i.tude of the party on sh.o.r.e, for there stood the phaeton, still waiting, although all chance of the others' returning was totally by-gone. Concluding that, Sir Gordon thus carried off without his will, his servants might possibly need some advice or counsel--for I knew they were all English, except the Courier--I hastened down to the jetty, to offer them such aid as I possessed. As I came nearer, I was more convinced that my suspicions were correct. About thirty ragged and not over-prepossessing-looking individuals were a.s.sembled around the phaeton; some busily pressing the groom, who stood at the horses' heads, with questions he could not answer; and others imploring charity with all that servile tone and gesture your Italian beggar is master of.

Making my way through this a.s.semblage, I accosted the groom, who knew me to be an acquaintance of his master's, and instead of replying to me, at once cried out,--"Oh, Miss Lucy, here is Mr. Templeton! You need not be afraid, now." I turned at once, and instead of a lady's-maid, as I had believed the figure to be, beheld a very lovely but delicate-looking girl, who with an expression of considerable anxiety in her features, was still following the track of the departing steam-boat. At the mention of my name she looked hurriedly around, and a deep blush covered her face as she said,--

"I am so happy to see Mr. Templeton! Perhaps he will forgive me if I make the first moment of our acquaintance the burden of a request?" And then, in a very few words, she told me how her Grandfather, having gone on board the steamer to give some particular orders and directions about his baggage, was unwillingly carried off, leaving her with only a groom, who could speak no language but his own. She went on to say, that they had taken the Villa Cimarosa on the lake, and were then proceeding thither by Lecco, when this _mesaventure_ occurred.

"I now must ask Mr. Templeton's counsel how to act--whether to return to the inn at Varenna, and wait there till I can hear from my Grandfather, or venture on to Como with the carriage?"

"If you will take my carriage, Miss Howard, it will be here in a few minutes. My servant is a most experienced traveller, and will not suffer you to endure the slightest inconvenience; and I will follow in yours.

"But perhaps you cannot travel in an open carriage? I have heard that your health is delicate."

"I prefer it greatly."

"And I too----"

She stopped suddenly, feeling that she was about to utter what might seem an ungracious acknowledgment. There was such an evident regret in the dread of having offended me, that, without pausing to reflect, I said,--

"There is another alternative; I am a very safe whip, and if you would permit me to have the honour of accompanying you, I should be but too happy to be your escort."

She tried to answer by a polite smile of acceptance, but I saw that the proposition was scarcely such as she approved of, and so at once I added,--

"I will spare you the pain of rejecting my offer; pray, then, abide by my first suggestion. I see my carriage coming along yonder."

"I don't know," said she, with a kind of wilfulness, like that of one who had been long accustomed to indulgence; "it may seem very capricious to you, but I own I detest post-horses, and cracking whips, and rope-harness. You shall drive me, Mr. Templeton."

I replied by a very sincere a.s.surance of how I esteemed the favour, and the next moment was seated at her side. As I stole a glance at the pale but beautifully-formed features, her drooping eyelashes, dark as night, and her figure of surpa.s.sing symmetry and grace, I could not help thinking of all the straits and expedients I had practised for three entire days to avoid making her acquaintance. As if she had actually divined what was then pa.s.sing in my mind, she said,--

"You see, Mr. Temple ton, it was like a fate; you did your utmost not to meet us, and here we are, after all."

I stammered out a very eager, but a very blundering attempt at denial, while she resumed,--

"Pray do not make matters worse, which apologies in such cases always do. Grandpapa told me that ill health had made you a recluse and avoid society. This, and the mystery of your own close seclusion, were quite enough to make me desirous to see you."

"How flattered I should have been had I suspected so much interest could attach to me! but, really, I dreaded to inflict upon a very old friend what I found to be so tiresome, namely, my own company."

"I always heard that you were fastidious about going into society; but surely a visit to an old friend, in a foreign country too, might have escaped being cla.s.sified in this category?"

"I own my fault, which, like most faults, has brought its own penalty."

"If this be meant to express your deep affliction at not coming to us, I accept the speech in all its most complimentary sense."

I bowed in acquiescence, and she went on:--

"You must forgive me if I talk to you with a freedom that our actual acquaintanceship does not warrant, for, while _you_ never heard of me before, _I_ have been listening to stories and narratives about _you_, I cannot say how long."

"Indeed! I scarcely suspected Sir Gordon had more than remembered me."

"I did not say that Grandpapa was my informant," said she, laughing.

"Lady Catherine Douglas--the Collingwoods--the Grevilles--and then that delightful person, Madame de Favancourt,--all spoke of you.... For which of my catalogue was that blush intended, Mr. Templeton?"

"I was only yielding to a very natural sentiment--call it shame, pride, or pleasure--that so many fair friends should have deemed me worthy a place in their memory. Is Mary Greville married?"

"Yes; about a month since she accepted the hand she had, it is said, some half-dozen times rejected."

"Sir Blake Morony?"

"The same: an intolerable bore, to my thinking; and, indeed, I believe to poor Mary's, too. But, then, 'the' man did not offer. Some say, he was bashful; some, that he dreaded what he need not have dreaded--a refusal; and so, Mary went but to the Cape when her father became Governor there; and, like all governors' daughters, took a husband from the staff."

"She was very pretty, but----"

"Say on; we were never more than mere acquaintances."

"I was going to add, a most inveterate flirt."

"How I do detest to hear that brought as an accusation against a girl, from the very kind of person that invariably induces the error!--Young men like Mr. Templeton, who, entering life with the prestige of ability and public success, very naturally flatter the vanity of any girl by their attentions, and lead to a more buoyant character of mind and a greater desire to please, which are at once set down as coquetry. For my own part, I greatly prefer old men's society to young one's, from the very fact that one is permitted to indulge all the caprices of thought or fancy without incurring the offensive imputation of a design on his heart."

"I should not always give a verdict of acquittal even in such cases."

"Very likely not. There are old men whose manner and bearing are infinitely more attractive than the self-satisfied, self-relying composure of our modern young ones. Any thing, however, even boyish awkwardness, is preferable to your middle-aged gentleman, who, with a slight bald spot on his head, and a very permanent flush on his cheek, adds the stately pomp of his forty autumns to a levity that has no touch of younger days."

"Heaven help us! what are we to do from thirty to fifty-five or sixty?"

"Marry, and live in the country. I mean, do not be young men about town.

_Apropos_ to nothing--are we not, this instant, in the very scene of Manzoni's novel, 'I Promessi Sposi?'"

"Yes; the whole of our journey to-day lies through it, from Lecco to Como; or rather, more to the northward again--what they call here, the 'Brianza.'"