Page:Once a Week Volume V.djvu/725

718 health and spirits both sank, and she was advised by the medical men of the town to return to England. Through the exertions of the gentleman in whose house she was residing, she was now returning to her old instructress, under the guidance of Signor Maffi.

The simplicity and artlessness with which she told her history endeared her to me more than ever; but I could not help thinking that Antonio had spoken to her in a more dictatorial manner than his position warranted. I stated this to her as delicately as I possibly could. I thought she blushed as I spoke; but she answered rather hurriedly:

“Signor Maffi has several times spoken to me in a manner that is painful to me. I am, however, in his charge and under his protection at present. I am afraid that I have spoken to him rather too plainly this evening, as he is very hot-tempered and unforgiving. Still, he has been very kind—but, hush! Let us change the conversation, if you please, for I see that he is again coming this way.”

Antonio came up a few seconds afterwards; but I could not see the expression of his face, since his hat was drawn over his brow. He spoke, however, calmly, and to me alone. He led the conversation dexterously to my favourite topics, and for the rest of the night, close to the time of our arrival at Dover, we walked the deck speculating and philosophising. I forgot everybody and everything, except our one grand subject, until we were almost in port, and then I suddenly recollected my beautiful young friend. She was asleep, but woke as I came up. I apologised for my rudeness, and begged to know if I might call upon her in town. She smiled pleasantly, and gave me her address; but seeing her draw down her veil again rapidly, I turned, and once more saw the ill-omened figure of the Italian.

I took him rather roughly by the sleeve, and led him away.

When we had arrived at a quiet part of the deck I spoke:

“Antonio Maffi, I have only known you a short time, but I consider that I am justified, knowing what I do, in warning you that your conduct is exciting both fear and distrust in the mind of that young lady.”

“Signor,” he replied, coldly, “I regret to hear you say that which I have feared myself, but—and remember that my pulse at this moment is beating more evenly than yours—I love Louisa Hawthorne—I love her, I tell you—and it will be an evil day for the man that steps in between my love and her.”

His manner and his voice were cold, but I could see that his eyes flashed as he spoke.

“Antonio,” said I, reluctantly, laying my hand upon his shoulder, “believe me that you will never gain that young girl’s heart by harsh language and cruelty of manner.”

He moved from under my hand with a muttered laugh, saying:

“Thanks, signor, for your advice; but, I pray you, do not forget the words that I have said.”

He left me, and went forward into the shadow of the boat, and I neither saw him nor Louisa till we landed, when they both bade me farewell, Maffi promising to call upon me in a day or two.

I travelled alone and undisturbed in the railway carriage to London, at times falling into uneasy slumber, haunted by the white face and dry, sardonic laugh of the Italian; but as the daylight filled the air, pleasanter recollections of Louisa’s beautiful eyes and beaming smile drove my more gloomy thoughts away. I longed to see her again.

After a few days, during which I never saw Antonio, I determined to call at the address which Louisa had given me. I found her at home, and could not mistake her smile of welcome, and I left her, more than ever charmed with her society. She had not seen Maffi since the day of their arrival in London. As I was leaving the house I fancied I saw a tall figure in a black cloak which reminded me of him, but I lost sight of it a moment afterwards. However, I had a note from him, the next day, informing me that he had met with some old friends from Italy, and was about to go with them into Scotland for a short time, at the expiration of which he would be ready to commence his engagement. Notwithstanding this information, I frequently thought that I perceived his figure at a distance, especially when I had been calling upon Louisa. This, however, might have been fancy only.

It would be needless to dwell on the next few months. Suffice it to say that my visits to Miss Hawthorne became very frequent and regular; my love was preferred and accepted, and very soon afterwards we were married. All thought of the future and dread of the past vanished from our minds, and we lived on, happy in the present and in each other’s society.

But this was not the last.

A few days after we had returned from our short wedding-tour, I thought of my laboratory. Alas! all my old aspirations and ambitions had evaporated. I gave orders for my rooms to be opened and ready for my inspection on the morrow.

My library and working-room were situated at the end of the garden behind the house, and opened into the street beyond. The next morning, leaving my wife under the porch, I went down through the garden once more to my well-remembered toil. As I opened the dark door I glanced round, and saw my wife standing in the sunlight—a smiling sunbeam herself—and then I passed into the gloomy shade of the laboratory.

A tall black figure was standing over the furnace, peering into a crucible, and the red light of the glowing charcoal glanced upon a face that I remembered only too well.

“Ah! did you think that I had forgotten you, signor? No, no; Antonio Maffi never forgets.”

The words of the Italian sank deep into my heart, and I shuddered with an inexplicable dread of coming evil.

as I was by the sudden appearance of Antonio, he accounted so readily and naturally for his presence, that the feeling of terror which rose at first in my mind quickly