Page:Blackwood's Magazine volume 137.djvu/350

344 show some signs of life, puffing out volumes of smoke into the unsullied air. A couple of gondolas, filled with men, put out presently towards it, their long thin forms, with the line of crowded heads above, suggesting the fantastic notion of a crew of South Sea Islanders bent upon a war-track. So still was it that the falling of a couple of planks upon the deck of a barge half a mile away sounded quite loud and reverberating in the silence. Suddenly, with a great whirring of wings, a detachment of the doves of St Mark's swept by, alighting upon the campo, and beginning to search about for bread-crumbs underneath the windows, the newly risen sun shining upon their brilliant neck-feathers. Lady Frances put her head suddenly down upon the balustrade and sobbed aloud. A great yearning love for Venice rose, brimmed over, and seemed to flood her heart – for Venice itself, apart from all whom it contained, and even all that it suggested. Never until now that she was leaving it had she realised how completely it had wound itself round her heartstrings; not like a place at all, – a town – a mere aggregation of bricks and mortar, – but like a living thing – a sister; something that it was like a tearing asunder of the very heart within her to think that she might never see again. She let her head lie along the unresponsive length of the balustrade, and sobbed like a child that has been robbed of its home.

She was roused by a sound not far off; a sound of something moving in the next room but one, which was that occupied by the Colonel – the dull jerking scrape of something moderately heavy being pulled over the tiled floor. What could it be? she wondered. It was unlike Hal to be astir so early; neither was it his valet's custom to invade his master's chambers thus prematurely. Presently the sound ceased, and the next moment there was a movement of the boards under her feet, and leaning a little forward, she saw that the Colonel himself was standing at his doorway, which opened like her own upon the balcony.

He was dressed, but instead of his coat, had pulled on the famous red-and-brown dressing-gown, which figured in the first scene of this little history, and over which the wealth of his auburn beard spread itself with its wonted luxuriance. If the beard and the dressing-gown were the same, the expression of their wearer was widely different from what it was upon that placid and cheerful occasion. The poor Colonel's face had a hunted, care-driven aspect, which sat oddly, and as it were pathetically, upon his naturally cheerful and care-defying lineaments. His forehead was crumpled up to the roots of his hair; and as if to balance this, his moustaches, upon the other hand, trailed dismally at the corners. His whole aspect was that of a man to whom the facing of a decision is pain and grief unspeakable, but who has been driven by the despotism of circumstance into doing so; a moody desperation was legible even in the sit of his necktie. He started when he perceived his sister, and half drew back as if he would have gone in, but perceiving the futility of this, advanced on the contrary a few steps, and stood with his hands upon the railing, looking out over the gradually brightening lengths of water.

Lady Frances waited a moment, expecting him to speak or to make some movement towards her. Then, seeing that he did not do either, she crossed over to the portion of the balcony which lay