heart. She in Sienna, ope of an lieutenant; >penly defy no doubt roposal of part of the e dare proimpossible on her or v, have the her's detere stage; he he would evince, and therefore er's entreaas it was. eally meant complish a ad this was re Antonio before her e lost. At ns, varilaid aside at length ice was to jowing day, gown than rer this she or mantle, in bonnet. regulation Es much as It was to Casa Ginshopping, slenderly ery partial nt; her so create no feared at man, and THE PURSER'S DAUGHTER. CHAP. V. (A Tale.) BY LADY The weather cleared up, and was succeeded by some most delicious spring-like days, when the stolen interviews of the lovers were again renewed. Still, though Captain Brown was absent, they were obliged to be most careful, for fear of any rumour reaching the ears of la Signora, who might think it her duty to report it to the Captain, or, at least, she might expostulate perhaps rather severely with Beatrice, and possibly threaten her with unpleasant consequences. To their mutual grief, Antonio's company was ordered back to the head quarters of his regiment, at Florence: this was indeed a grievous piece of news that had to be related on one of these charming early spring-days, which seem to give us the promise of a fine sum mer. Beatrice's tears flowed fast, for, much about the same time, she had received letters from her father, which seemed to express his decided intention of returning sooner than on leaving he had thought it possible he could have managed to do. Antonio's forced departure, all seemed to sound the knell to the pretty love dream, more particularly as the evening previous an Irish gentleman, who sat next to her at dinner, had whispered to Beatrice, as he drank her health, his sincere wishes for her future happiness, concluding with these words: "Consult your father and then you will act wisely" These words were uttered by a middle-aged gentleman, who was at Sienna in charge of an invalid nephew. With this speech still ringing in her ears, Beatrice, with her father's last letter in her pocket, had gone to this stolen meeting. It seemed to both that no time was to be lost. Antonio entreated-and he entreated as he had never before done Beatrice had recourse to tears; she had feared to take the step she was urged to take, but now matters seemed rapidly coming to a crisis. She at length yielded a reluctant consent, amidst blushes, weeping, and smiles, to a speedy secret marriage to the man to whom she had given her whole heart. She well knew that, her father once again in Sienna, adieu evermore to the slightest hope of an union between herself and the young lieutenant; she well knew she no more dare openly defy her father's violent anger-and his no doubt passionate, stern, refusal to any proposal of marriage to her, particularly on the part of the penniless Antonio Fiengo-than she dare propose riding in a balloon, or any other impossible feat. No deep love expressed, either on her or on his side, would, she well knew, have the slightest effect in changing her father's determination to bring her out upon the stage; he would only bitterly ridicule what he would call love-sick notions that she might evince, and all would be lost. Now she was therefore fully won over, not only by her lover's entreaties, but by her own judgment, weak as it was. Now was the time or never: if they really meant to fulfil their ardent wishes and accomplish a marriage, it must be a secret one, and this was the period it must take place, before Antonio joined his regiment at Florence, before her father's return-no time must now be lost. At length, after many conversations, various plans, only mentioned to be laid aside as totally impracticable, it was at length finally settled in this manner: Beatrice was to go out after breakfast on the following day, dressing herself in a rather smarter gown than she usually wore of a morning, over this she was to place her ordinary dark cloak or mantle, according to the weather, with a plain bonnet. In her pocket there was to be the regulation white veil, so as to adorn herself as much as lay in her power in bridal fashion. It was to be understood by the inmates of La Casa Ginbeletti it was her intention to go out shopping, as she was known (though very slenderly provided for in pocket-money) to be very partial to this favourite feminine amusement; her so diaposing of a couple of hours would create no surprise. The only person whom she feared at all suspected her secret was the Irishman, and S he had departed the previous morning for, church of San Guiseppe. In the next place Rome. On this eventful day, instead of shopping, she was to bend her steps as quickly as possible to the insignificant church of San Guiseppe, situated in a poor unfrequented part of Sienna; there Antonio with two witnesses was to meet her; one was to be a tradesman on whom he could rely, the other a brother officer, equally to be relied on. There, in this mean little church, were the two lovers to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony by a priest, who was both a cousin and a great friend of Antonio's, whose priestly scruples at thus deviating from the usual religious ceremonies and the legal forms Italy requires of strangers previous to being married, also of all those tedious preliminaries so difficult to be obtained by a foreiguer, the absolutely insisting on the consent of friends, baptismal registers, and also the marriage registers of the betrothed pair, and of parentsall these impediments were at last overcome by Padre Anselmo's strong affection for his relative, and the promise on the young man's part that the marriage ceremony should again be repeated with all the proper forms at a future and more convenient time; the priest then agreed to be as silent as the grave. there rose in her breast emotions of the greatest delight at escaping being made against her will to act the part of a public singer, though, through all these trying scenes, it had been a great comfort to her that Il Signor A-, from Florence, had never once troubled himself to call and test her voice during the time of her father's absence, as she had been led to expect, and the fear of which trial had haunted her day and night, with many a fearful tremour, since her father's departure. Now the dread of all this was, as she believed, completely over, and there filled the heart of Beatrice an all-absorbing, all-engrossing bliss, that soon she would be united to the only man who had ever inspired her with that real love which can be imagined but hardly described; the love that makes all sacrifices light, that transforms, as it were, with a magic fairy's wand, even homely features to the classic ones of perfect beauty; that changes the rustic cottage into the splendour of a palace, and throws over the most menial occupations, engaged in for the service of those we really love, an inconceivable, extraordinary charm. All these ardent feelings were experienced by Beatrice; still she knew she was acting wrong, that no young girl ought thus to leave the protection of friends with whom her parent had placed her, and act in direct disobedience to his well-known wishes, defeating his long-cherished hopes, and giving young man a perfect stranger to him. To all this I can but say, in slight extenuation of Beatrice's conduct, she was but eighteen, and had, as I have before said, never known a mother's counsel or advice. To a mother's kind arms she would have most likely flown in her great happiness of mutual love mingled at the same time with that nervous agitation most young girls feel at taking that all-important step in life-marriage! even when supported by the full consent of parents and friends. Breathless, her heart beating with mingled feelings of deep love and real terror lest she might be seen, followed, and taken home again, Beatrice reached in safety the small church of San Guiseppe, and was received, we need not say, with how much rapture by Antonio. The cloak was quickly removed, her white veil properly adjusted over her rich hair, braided in Italian fashion, with many circlets of beads. Antonio handed her a large white nosegay. Both were Catholics, therefore as soon as the bridal party had placed themselves before the altar, the priest hastily performed the ceremony that made them man and wife-that solemn ceremony, that so few people, either men or women, properly reflect upon before they enter on its many serious and binding duties. Dark and gloomy was the morning when Beatrice, after hastily swallowing her coffee and eating her roll, hastened to attire herself in a blue tabinet dress, placing over it a white summer shawl. Then she wrapped herself care-herself, without his sanction, in marriage to a fully up, as the day required, in a warm dark cloak, which completely covered her; a plain bonnet was then placed upon her prettily-shaped head. She had spent some time this morning in arranging her beautiful hair: no regular hairdresser could have accomplished his task in better style, nor did she forget the all-important white veil. With a few maidenly scruples, she bid a silent adieu to the home chosen for her by her father, and left that father's protection-I wish I could add that she shed some tears over the idea of her father's sorrow would be at this unexpected desertion of his only remaining unmarried child, the destruction of all his ambitious projects concerning her, and the feeling she ought to have experienced, that even in the midst of his greatest anger there would be mingled wounded affections and deep sorrow at having been deceived, as it ever is with parents. But, alas! not one of these impressions of what might be the consequence either to Captain Brown or to herself from this hasty stolen marriage-ever crossed Beatrice's mind; all she seemed to think of was, first, the suitably dressing herself in what were to stand to her in lieu of bridal robes, then the filling of a small leather bag, easily concealed under the folds of her cloak, containing a few necessary articles (two or three small parcels she had also conveyed at different times at her stolen meetings with her lover). And then she was anxious as to the reaching in perfect safety from the scrutiny of any curious eye the little It was over; Beatrice belonged to no one now but Antonio. A modest vehicle drove up near the church door to take the bridal party to the pretty retired mountain retreat, where their three weeks of stolen honey |