The Daltons Volume II Part 45

"To-morrow afternoon; Lord! how close he r-ran it," exclaimed Purvis.

"Once more, I say, be patient," said Hans. "Let these good people go, you shall lose nothing; I pledge the word of a man who never told a falsehood. I will pay all. Have some pity, however, for this orphan,--one who has now neither a home nor a country."

"Yes, yes, he 'll have p-pity; he 's an excellent man is Mr. Kraus.

I shouldn't wonder if we'd come to terms about this vi-villa for ourselves."

Hans turned a look of anger towards him, and then said: "Go, sir, and take those that belong to you away also. This place no longer can suit you nor them. He who lies yonder can be flattered and fawned on no more; and, as for her, she is above your compa.s.sion, if it even lay in your heart to offer it."

"He ain't quite right here," whispered Purvis to Kraus, as he tapped his forehead significantly. "They told me that in the town." Kraus moved away without reply, and Purvis followed him. "He's rich, too, they say,"

added he, in a whisper.

"They'll scarcely say as much this day week," said Kraus, sneeringly; while, beckoning his people to follow him, he left the house.

No sooner did Mrs. Ricketts learn that her worldly possessions were safe, and that the harpy clutches of the law could make no seizure among those curious turbans and wonderful tunics which composed her wardrobe, than she immediately addressed herself to the active duties of the hour with a mind at ease, and, while packing her trunks, inadvertently stowed away such little stray articles as might not be immediately missed, and might serve hereafter to recall thoughts of "poor dear Miss Dalton," for so she now preferred to name her.

"Those little box figures, Martha, don't forget them. They of course don't belong to the house; and Scroope suspects that the bracket for the hall lamp must have been her carving also."

"I 've p-put away two pencil drawings marked 'N. D.,' and a little sketch in oil of the Alten Schloss; and I 've my pockets stuffed with the tulip roots."

"Well thought of, Scroope; and there's a beautiful paper-knife,--poor thing, she's not likely to want it now. What a sad bereavement! And are his affairs really so bad?"

"Ov-over head and ears in debt There ain't enough to bury him if the dwarf does not sh.e.l.l out,--but he will. They say he's in love with Nelly,--he, he, he!"

"Shocking, quite shocking. Yes, Martha, that telescope is a very good one. What improvidence, what culpable improvidence!"

"And is she quite friendless?" asked Martha, feelingly.

"Not while she has _our_ protection," said Mrs. Rickett, grandly. "I 've determined 'to take her up.'"

Martha reddened slightly at the phrase, for she knew of some others who had been so "taken up," and with what small profit to their prosperity.

"Her talents, when aided by _our_ patronage, will always support her,"

said Mrs. Ricketts; "and I mean, when the shock of this calamity is past, to employ her on a little group for a centrepiece for our dinner-table. She will, of course, be charmed to have her genius displayed to such advantage. It will afford us a suitable opportunity of introducing her name."

"And we shall have the piece of carving for nothing," said Martha, who innocently believed that she was supplying another argument of equal delicacy and force.

"You 're an idiot!" said Mrs. Ricketts, angrily; "and I begin to fear you will never be anything else."

"I 'm quite sure I shall not," muttered the other, with a faint submissiveness, and continued the task of packing the trunks.

"Take care that you find out her sister's address, Martha. I 'm sadly in want of some furs; that tippet, I suppose, is only fit for _you_ now, and my sable m.u.f.f is like a dog in the mange. The opportunity is a most favorable one; for when the Princess, as they persist in calling her, knows that her sister is our dependant, we may make our own terms. It would be the very ruin of her in St Petersburg to publish such a fact."

"But Miss Dalton will surely write to her herself."

"She can be persuaded, I trust, to the contrary," said Mrs. Ricketts, knowingly. "She can be shown that such an appeal would, in all likelihood, wreck her sister's fortunes, that the confession of such a relationship would utterly destroy her position in that proud capital; and if she prove obstinate, the letter need not go; you understand that, at least," added she, with a contemptuous glance that made poor Martha tremble.

Mrs. Ricketts was now silent, and sat revelling in the various thoughts that her active mind suggested. Upon the whole, although Dalton's dying was an inconvenience, there were some compensating circ.u.mstances. She had gained a most useful _protegee_ in Nelly,----one whose talents might be made of excellent use, and whose humble, unpretending nature would exact no requital. Again, the season at Baden was nearly over; a week or two more, at most, was all that remained. The "Villino," which she had left for the summer to some confiding family, who believed that Florence was a paradise in July and August, would again be at her disposal; and, in fact, as she phrased it, "the conjunctures were all felicitous," and her campaign had not been unfruitful. This latter fact attested itself in the aspect of her travelling-carriage, with its "spolia" on the roof, and its various acquired objects under the body.

Pictures, china, plate, coins, brocades, old lace, books, prints, ma.n.u.scripts, armor, stained gla.s.s, trinkets, and relics of all kinds, showed that travel with her was no unprofitable occupation, and that she had realized the grand desideratum of combining pleasure with solid advantage.

Meanwhile, so ingenious is thorough selfishness, she fancied herself a benefactor of the whole human race. All the cajoleries she used to practise, she thought were the amiable overflowings of a kindly nature; her coa.r.s.e flatteries she deemed irresistible fascinations; her duperies even seemed only the triumphs of a mind transcendently rich in resources, and never for a moment suspected that the false coin she was uttering could be called in question, though the metal was too base for imposition. There is no supply without demand, and if the world did not like such characters there would be none of them. The Rickettses are, however, a large and an increasing cla.s.s of society, and, to our national shame be it said, they are distinctively English in origin. And now we leave her, little regretting if it be forever; and if we turn to a darker page in our story, it is, at least, to one wherein our sympathies are more fairly enlisted.

That long night pa.s.sed over like a dreary dream, and morning was now mingling its beams with the glare of the tapers, as Nelly sat beside the death-bed.

"Come with me, Fraulein! come away from this," said Hanserl, as with a tearful eye and quivering lip he stood before her.

Nelly shook her head slowly, and for answer turned her gaze on the dead man.

"You shall come back again; I promise you, you shall come back again,"

said he, softly.

She arose without a word and followed him. They pa.s.sed through an outer room, and entered the garden, where Hans, taking her hand, led her to a seat.

"You will be better here, Fraulein," said he, respectfully; "the air is fresh and balmy."

"He sat beside me on this bench three nights ago," said she, as if talking to herself, "and said how he wished I could be with Kate, but that he could not part with me; and see,--we are parted, and for a longer separation! Oh, Hanserl! what we would give to recall some of the past, when death has closed it forever against us!"

"Remember Wieland, Fraulein; he tells us that 'the Impossible is a tree without fruit or flowers.'"

"And yet my mind will dwell on nothing else. The little thwartings of his will, the cold compliance which should have been yielded in a better spirit, the counsels that often only irritated,--how they rise up now, like stern accusers, before me, and tell me that I failed in my duty."

"Not so, Fraulein, not so," said Hans, reverently.

"But there is worse than that, Hanserl, far worse," said she, trembling.

"To smooth the rough path of life, I descended to deception. I told him the best when my heart felt the worst. Had he known of Kate's real life, and had he sorrowed over _her_ fortunes, might not such grief have been hallowed to him! To have wept over Frank--the poor boy in prison--might have raised his thoughts to other themes than the dissipation that surrounded him. All this was _my_ fault I would have his love, and see the price it has cost me!" She hid her face between her hands, and never spoke for a long time. And at length she lifted up her eyes, red as they were with weeping, and with a heavy sigh said, "How far is it to Vienna, Hanserl?"

"To Vienna, Fraulein! It is a long journey,----more than four hundred miles. But why do you ask?"

"I was thinking that if I saw Count Stephen--if I could but tell him our sad story myself--he might intercede for poor Frank, and perhaps obtain his freedom. His crime can scarcely be beyond the reach of mercy, and his youth will plead for him. And is it so far away, Hanserl?"

"At the very least; and a costly journey, too."

"But I would go on foot, Hans. Lame as I am, I can walk for miles without fatigue, and I feel as if the exertion would be a solace to me, and that my mind, bent upon a good object, could the more easily turn away from my own desolation. Oh, Hans, think me not selfish that I speak thus; but thoughts of my own loneliness are so linked with all I have lost, I cannot separate them. Even the humble duty that I filled gave a value to my life, without which my worthlessness would have crushed me; for what could poor lame Nelly be,--I, that had no buoyancy for the young, no ripe judgment for the old? And yet, in caring for him that is gone, I found a taste of love and happiness."

"I will go with you, Fraulein; you shall not take this weary road alone.

Heaven knows that, without you, this place would be too dreary for me."

"But your house, Hanserl,--all that you possess,--the fruits of all your hard industry--"

"Speak not of them," said Hans, reddening. "They who deem me rich are mistaken. I have speculated ill, I have made bad ventures, and what I have will but pay my debts, and I will be glad to quit this spot."

"And I," said Nelly, with a voice of deep emotion,--"I cannot say that I can help you. I know nothing of what may remain to me in this world; my father never spoke to me latterly of his means, and I may be, for aught I know, a beggar. Will you see his banker and speak with him?"

"I have done so," said Hans, slowly. "He claims some small sum as due to him."

"And how am I to pay it?" said Nelly, growing pale. "It is true, I can labor--"

"Have no care for this, Fraulein. It shall be looked to, and you shall repay it hereafter."