"Immediately from Naples, where we last touched," replied his lordship; "but I have been residing at Athens."
"I envy you," said Herbert.
"It would be a fit residence for you," said Lord Cadurcis. "You were, however, in some degree, my companion, for a volume of your poems was one of the few books I had with me. I parted with all the rest, but I retained that. It is in my cabin, and full of my scribblement. If you would condescend to accept it, I would offer it to you."
Mr. Herbert and Lord Cadurcis maintained the conversation along the terrace. Venetia, by whose side her old companion walked, was quite silent. Once her eyes met those of Cadurcis; his expression of mingled archness and astonishment was irresistible. His cousin and Lady Annabel carried on a more suppressed conversation, but on ordinary topics. When they had reached the olive-grove Herbert said, "Here lies our way homeward, my lord. If you and your cousin will accompany us, it will delight Lady Annabel and myself."
"Nothing, I am sure, will give George and myself greater pleasure," he replied. "We had, indeed, no purpose when you met us but to enjoy our escape from imprisonment, little dreaming we should meet our kindest and oldest friends," he added.
"Kindest and oldest friends!" thought Herbert to himself. "Well, this is strange indeed."
"It is but a slight distance," said Lady Annabel, who thought it necessary to enforce the invitation. "We live in the valley, of which yonder hill forms a part."
"And there we have pa.s.sed our winter and our spring," added Venetia, "almost as delightfully as you could have done at Athens."
"Well," thought Cadurcis to himself, "I have seen many of the world"s marvels, but this day is a miracle."
When they had proceeded through the olive-wood, and mounted the acclivity, they arrived at a path which permitted the ascent of only one person at a time. Cadurcis was last, and followed Venetia. Unable any longer to endure the suspense, he was rather irritated that she kept so close to her father; he himself loitered a few paces behind, and, breaking off a branch of laurel, he tossed it at her. She looked round and smiled; he beckoned to her to fall back. "Tell me, Venetia,"
he said, "what does all this mean?"
"It means that we are at last all very happy," she replied. "Do you not see my father?"
"Yes; and I am very glad to see him; but this company is the very last in which I expected to have that pleasure."
"It is too long a story to tell now; you must imagine it."
"But are you glad to see me?"
"Very."
"I don"t think you care for me the least."
"Silly Lord Cadurcis!" she said, smiling.
"If you call me Lord Cadurcis, I shall immediately go back to the brig, and set sail this night for Athens."
"Well then, silly Plantagenet!"
He laughed, and they ran on.
CHAPTER III.
"Well, I am not surprised that you should have pa.s.sed your time delightfully here," said Lord Cadurcis to Lady Annabel, when they had entered the villa; "for I never beheld so delightful a retreat. It is even more exquisite than your villa on the lake, of which George gave me so glowing a description. I was almost tempted to hasten to you.
Would you have smiled on me!" he added, rather archly, and in a coaxing tone.
"I am more gratified that we have met here," said Lady Annabel.
"And thus," added Cadurcis.
"You have been a great traveller since we last met?" said Lady Annabel, a little embarra.s.sed.
"My days of restlessness are over," said Cadurcis. "I desire nothing more dearly than to settle down in the bosom of these green hills as you have done."
"This life suits Mr. Herbert," said Lady Annabel. "He is fond of seclusion, and you know I am accustomed to it."
"Ah! yes," said Cadurcis, mournfully. "When I was in Greece, I used often to wish that none of us had ever left dear Cherbury; but I do not now."
"We must forget Cherbury," said Lady Annabel.
"I cannot: I cannot forget her who cherished my melancholy childhood.
Dear Lady Annabel," he added in a voice of emotion, and offering her his hand, "forget all my follies, and remember that I was your child, once as dutiful as you were affectionate."
Who could resist this appeal? Lady Annabel, not without agitation, yielded him her hand, which he pressed to his lips. "Now I am again happy," said Cadurcis; "now we are all happy. Sweetest of friends, you have removed in a moment the bitterness of years."
Although lights were in the saloon, the windows opening on the portico were not closed. The evening air was soft and balmy, and though the moon had not risen, the distant hills were clear in the starlight.
Venetia was standing in the portico conversing with George Cadurcis.
"I suppose you are too much of a Turk to drink our coffee, Lord Cadurcis," said Herbert. Cadurcis turned and joined him, together with Lady Annabel.
"Nay," said Lord Cadurcis, in a joyous tone, "Lady Annabel will answer for me that I always find everything perfect under her roof."
Captain Cadurcis and Venetia now re-entered the villa; they cl.u.s.tered round the table, and seated themselves.
"Why, Venetia," said Cadurcis, "George met me in Sicily and quite frightened me about you. Is it the air of the Apennines that has worked these marvels? for, really, you appear to me exactly the same as when we learnt the French vocabulary together ten years ago."
""The French vocabulary together, ten years ago!"" thought Herbert; "not a mere London acquaintance, then. This is very strange."
"Why, indeed, Plantagenet," replied Venetia, "I was very unwell when George visited us; but I really have quite forgotten that I ever was an invalid, and I never mean to be again."
""Plantagenet!"" soliloquised Herbert. "And this is the great poet of whom I have heard so much! My daughter is tolerably familiar with him."
"I have brought you all sorts of buffooneries from Stamboul,"
continued Cadurcis; "sweetmeats, and slippers, and shawls, and daggers worn only by sultanas, and with which, if necessary, they can keep "the harem"s lord" in order. I meant to have sent them with George to England, for really I did not antic.i.p.ate our meeting here."
""Sweetmeats and slippers,"" said Herbert to himself, ""shawls and daggers!" What next?"
"And has George been with you all the time?" inquired Venetia.
"Oh! we quarrelled now and then, of course. He found Athens dull, and would stay at Constantinople, chained by the charms of a fair Perote, to whom he wanted me to write sonnets in his name. I would not, because I thought it immoral. But, on the whole, we got on very well; a sort of Pylades and Orestes, I a.s.sure you; we never absolutely fought."
"Come, come," said George, "Cadurcis is always ashamed of being amiable. We were together much more than I ever intended or antic.i.p.ated. You know mine was a sporting tour; and therefore, of course, we were sometimes separated. But he was exceedingly popular with all parties, especially the Turks, whom he rewarded for their courtesy by writing odes to the Greeks to stir them up to revolt."
"Well, they never read them," said Cadurcis. "All we, poor fellows, can do," he added, turning to Herbert, "is to wake the h.e.l.lenistic raptures of May Fair; and that they call fame; as much like fame as a toadstool is like a truffle."