me from you, Lady of Beauty;" and then pressing one hand on her bosom, and with the other pointing upwards to the sun, +66 By the glory of that light, I will return true as honour, faithful as friendship, and fond as love." The Donna Rosanna stood, with her breath checked, as people do at the sight of something beyond belief. She then waved her hand for the Gitana to approach, and hastily pressed her lips two or three times between the girl's eyes, who soon left the apart ment. The Lady then sat down by the casement, and continued counting the jessamine blossoms up and down. At length the Duenna muttered, "All this is very strange-very surprising very strange" and this she repeated for at least five minutes, holding up her embroidery to the light, and then laying it down again, glancing towards the chair. Of what are you talking now?" said her Lady at last." I was only," replied the Duenna, thinking where this Gitana could have got her compliment. Unless I am much mistaken I have read it in the Academia de Cortesia." "It is impossible," said the Lady." It may be so; but it is, I think, true, nevertheless," rejoined the Duenna." Duenna," retorted the Lady, "I have a great mind to send you back to Segovia." re The Duenna was now silenced. But in about a quarter of an hour after, when the storm seemed to be blown over, she observed, as to herself, "What will the Captain-General say to all these pedlars and Gitanas ?""That you are a suspicious old woman," pronounced the Lady Rosanna, as quick as lightning. This was more than any woman could well bear, and peculiarly a Duenna." I thank heaven," said she, squeezing up her embroidery into her hand, and pushing back her chair, as if she were going out of the room at the instant, "I was never in love, however. I know nothing about love."-"From my soul I believe you," said the Lady, with a look at the Duenna's withered physiognomy; and then at once turning away, and with her handkerchief to - her eyes, she went into her chamber. "The Duenna went to the mirror. What passed during the next day I cannot tell; but I suppose there was not much time for talking of love af fairs; for about noon the Captain-General came galloping into the court with half a dozen aides-de-camp at his heels; and he had scarcely sat down, before every servant in the Convent was summoned to tell what could be told of the Pedlar, the Conjuror, and the Gitana. But all that was told was but little; or, as the servants thought, much to their honour; for besides giving them very pleasant entertainment by their tricks and gaiety, they had refused to take a peseto from any of them, and had even given away several Estremadura watch-chains and hair-nets, besides two of the best mock topaz necklaces that had been seen since the fair of St Ines, to the waiting-maids of their Lady and the Duenna. The Captain-General only knit his brows the more; and an aid-decamp was dispatched to bring the strangers from the village. I have often thought that it was the Duenna who had sent for the cunning old man; and that afterwards she was not much pleased with her work, for he scolded her in the most provoking manner. The aid-de-camp returned late that night without any intelligence. No one had seen either pedlar, conjuror, or Gitana, for the last fortnight; and it was notorious that all that tribe had gone to the north and Madrid for the season. The Lady Rosanna remained shut up in her chamber. A second and a third day passed, probably in the same way; the Captain-General running about the house, despatching aides-de-camp to the villages in the neighbourhood, and now and then making a sortie, as he termed it, to reconnoitre the corners and crevices of the wall. Nothing could be more hateful than this life to the Duenna, who felt all her authority taken out of her hands, and had nothing to do but to see her lady one while reading some volume of poetry, as if her soul were at her lips, then throwing away the book, and hanging over a drawing, and then, as if she were bewitched, taking her harp, and singing the Maestranza. The Duenna was almost tired to death of this song, and on the third evening prevailed on her lady to walk in the garden. It was by this time twilight, and the new moon was rising over the mountains, with the evening star just below it, like the diamond spark hanging from a huge pearl ear-ring. The ground was extensive, and was planted with vines, and an abundance of other garden trees, some in blossom, and some hanging down to the grass with fruit, and through these sweet scented walks the house was now and then seen at a distance, with all the long, old casements open for the night air, and the servants hur rying backwards and forwards, in their gay dresses, with lights, preparing to lay the tables for supper. I think the whole might have been like a stage scene, looked at through the large end of a telescope, or a feast in the land of the fairies. " After they had lost the sounds of the house, "I wonder," said the Lady Rosanna," whether we shall ever have wings?" Bless me," exclaimed the Duenna, making the sign of the cross upon her forehead," what would your ladyship do with them?"-"Duenna,' sighed she," I may have them before you are aware; there is not a star above us that I will not visit; I will look for some bright, quiet spot, into which no memory of this world can reach, and there- "In the name of the Virgin, of what is my Lady dreaming?" said the Duenna. But her Lady heard nothing, and with her eye fixed on the heavens, seemed talking to some invisible thing. The only words that could be heard were "Where all tears are wiped from all eyes." They had not gone above a dozen yards farther, when something dark flew through the air, and dropped at their feet. There it lay, but neither of them had power to touch it. At length the Lady Rosanna gathered courage, and took up the packet, notwithstanding the Duenna's terrors, who declared it to be some new device of the tempter. "If it be," observed the Lady, with a faint laugh, "Duenna, you are undone, for to you this temptation will be irresistible." And she held out to the Duenna her large velvet purse, who found its contents safe, and kissed every duro, one after the other. The Donna Rosanna's purse next came forth. "I vow," exclaimed the Duenna, "those are the most gentlemanlike thieves I ever met with. I have heard of such things, but it was in the Historia de la Leal dad, and the like stories of times and people, that, on my conscience, I believe never existed." My ring, my ring!" cried out the Lady Rosanna, with a voice of agony. "Are the ducats all right," interposed the Duenna, taking the purse, and pouring out the gold into her open hand. I'll be sworn that not a piece has been lost." "Would to heaven," wept the Lady, "all had been lost, and my ring left. Myprecious ring!""Mere emerald,' muttered the Duenna. The Lady Rosanna cast her bright eye in every corner of the path, saying, as if without knowing she spoke, "It was never off my finger till that day, that unfortunate day. I wore it on the night of the Maestranza. It was touched by his hand, it was pressed by his lips. It has been for two long years my companion, my delight, my misery! Still she searched through every tuft of the flowers that had in this farther part of the garden overgrown the path. At once she stopped, listened for a moment, and then sprang away like a startled fawn. "Bless my soul," said the Duenna, as she fought her way through the thicket, that seemed to have an ill-will against her, for she no sooner pushed one of the bushes out of the way than a dozen flew into its place, "Bless my soul, but those young girls are all flint and steel ;-mad passions from top to toe. And here am I, at this hour of the night, without cloak or comfort, netted like a wild beast among these brambles." The last idea struck strongly on her fancy ;and as she had heard of the traps laid for some foxes, that had been lately in the grounds, she cried aloud, but all the world seemed to have grown deaf. However, she at length saw a glimpse of light through the branches; it was the lamp of the pavilion, and after a few struggles more and an ave, she made her way to the building. She there found the Lady Rosanna clinging to one of the pillars, like a fair statue carved of its marble. Her hands were stiff, and as cold as ice, but her lips burned and quivered, and her eyes flashed with spiritual brightness. The sound of some instrument was heard, and the Duenna looked round for an apparition of at least a dozen cavaliers muffled up to the eyes, with flapped hats, hanging feathers, and every man a sword or guitar in his hand; but she could see nothing more than the huge old vine waving in the moonlight, with all its leaves as if turned to silver. The sound came from beyond the garden wall, and she caught the closing words. But her eyes were like thine own. But his heart was-Oh farewell! "My curse light on the Maestranza, and all the makers and singers of such villainous tunes," exclaimed the Duenna; "I have been doing nothing but dreaming of it these three nights. For the Virgin's sake, my Lady, leave this damp place, and come into the house at once." She tried to remove her from the spot, but she might as easily have moved the pavilion. There the fair creature stood in wild and delicate beauty, with her small, white arms clung round the pillar, among the clusters of roses; her face upturned, pale as ivory in the moonshine, and her rich,raven curls flung back from her ears, listening like an enchanted being. In a minute or two some loud talking, followed by a clash of swords, was heard; she gave a shriek,-her arms sank from the pillar,-and, after a few loose and headlong steps towards the sound, she fell on the turf without motion. What happened for the rest of the evening, I could never learn, nor how the Duenna contrived to carry her unfortunate young mistress into the house, for she could not be much under sixty, though she confessed only to forty, and never exceeded that age in my memory. The Lady Rosanna was, however, carried into her chamber, and there was great disturbance in the house for some hours. It was said that there had been an attack of banditti, of which the Captain-General had information, that some had been killed, and others taken in chains to the Corregidor in Valencia. At all events, about midnight the CaptainGeneral set off for the city at full speed, leaving all his servants armed, with strict orders to keep watch. "Is my father gone?" said the Lady Rosanna, as the horse's heels echoed down the court-yard. These were the first words that she had uttered to any living soul from the time of her swoon. The Duenna, who, though she was a hard-featured woman, was not without affection, threw her arms round the Lady, and, bursting into tears, thanked all the saints in the calendar for her recovery. "The Captain-General is gone," said the old woman; "but why does my sweet young lady ask that question?" The Lady Rosanna returned no answer, but, rising from her bed, began to bind up the long tresses that hung over her beautiful bosom, like wreaths of black satin. She then took from a secret drawer a small diamond-hilted dagger, drew it out of the sheath, looked at it two or three times before the lamp, then kissed it, and, putting it in the sheath again, hid it in her bosom. The Duenna saw all this going on; but through astonishment and fear. did not speak a word. At length her Lady went to the mirror, and gazing at herself for a moment, (and the Duenna afterwards said, that from what reason she knew not, she had never seen her look so beautiful,) turned away with a melancholy smile, as if she had taken a last farewell of her loveliness,-threw her mantilla over her head,-and, with a motion of her hand for the Duenna to stay behind, went down stairs. The old woman afterwards said, that she had no power to follow her; but that, for a while, something like a cloud came over her mind, and she thought that she had seen a departing angel. She was roused by a glare of light through the chamber; and, on going to the window, saw a crowd of the servants with torches round the Walloon, who was bearing something in his arms, and forcing his way up to the hall. Altogether, they made a great clamour. She threw on her mantilla, and went down. By this time the Walloon had made his way in. The first object she saw was her Lady, in the midst of the crowd, standing beside the great table; and, with a face as pale as ashes, slowly raising the cloak off the face of what seemed one of the dead banditti. For half-a-dozen years after, the Duenna was famous for telling the story of that night;-how grave and calm her Lady looked as she gazed on the countenance;-how she took the ring from his finger-the emerald ringand holding it up to Heaven, as if in token of marriage, kissed it, and put it on her own ;-then, cutting off the longest of her own ringlets, laid it on his bosom ;-how a blush, like fire, covered her face and bosom when she turned round, and saw that the room was full.-"If I had minded her then," said the Duenna, "I should have gone away with the rest, for she waved her hand, as if there were a sceptre in it. I would not, however, leave her with a corpse, but staid watching near the door. I believe that, as I stood in the shade, and made no noise, she thought I had gone away; for then she flung herself upon the body, weep ing bitterly, and saying a thousand strange things; from which I learned, that she had met him at the Mæstranza masquerade in Granada, when he had given her the ring, though he had not seen her face: that she had been unhappy ever since; that she thought she had seen his spirit some evenings before, and felt herself under a fate to follow him, with many more wild speeches of the same kind. At length I saw her kneel down, and, after a prayer, draw the little poniard from her bosom. As she raised it up, I knew it by the glittering of its hiltand ran forwards with an outcry. She was probably frightened by the noise, for she dropped the weapon on the floor, and fell into my arms. I was then in a comfortable situation, with a dead man before me, and a dead woman hanging over my shoulder. However, the Virgin and San Iago, the gentlest couple among all the saints, protected me, and I had scarcely cast my eye from my Lady on the bandit, when I saw the colour come into his lips,-then came a deep sigh; and before I could stir a step, with the weight upon me, he opened his eyelids and stared full in my face. I protest I thought I should have died. But here again I was mistaken." The Duenna's story ended in her leaving the bandit, Don Francisco, to tell over his adventures to Donna Rosanna ;how he had seen her in the garden; how he had obtained admission as the pedlar;-how he and the hussar had acted the Gitana and the Conjuror ;how, on his last serenade, he had been taken for a robber; and how he was to win the Captain-General's sword, on her promise of marriage. Whether the lady refused to help him in his wager, I leave to be decided by all the black-eyed and rosy-cheeked girls on both sides of the Pyrenees. For my part, I have nothing more to say, than that I am ready to agree with the decision of the prettiest, whatever that may be ; and that I thank all the Senors present for the condescension with which they have listened to an old man's old tale. 66 SUFFICIENT UNTO THE DAY IS THE EVIL THEREOF." Oh! by that gracious rule, Were we but wise to steer But we, (perverse and blind!) The past again. This life is called brief Man on the earth but crawls The ripe fruit falls. Yet, betwixt birth and death, There are, who're born and die, Their life in truth is brief A speck, a point of time- But other some there are, (I call them not more wise,) In whom the restless mind Still lingereth behind, Or forward flies. With these, things pass away, And there the soul retires From the dull things that are, To mingle oft and long, With the time hallow'd throng, - Of those that were. There, into life start out The scenes long vanished; We feel their grasp of love, We meet their beaming eye, We hear their voice-ah, no!— 'Twas our own murm'ring low, Unconsciously. 3 G The years shift on and on Years rapidly pass by- We gaze on some pale face, Seen by the dim watch-light; Shudd'ring we gaze, and pray, And weep, and wish away The long, long night. And yet, minutest things That mark time's heavy tread, The drops, with trembling hand With nervous doubt The watch that ticks so loud, The shutter, half unclosed As the night wears away, The moon, so oft invoked, That bringeth no relief, " From which, with sick'ning sight We turn, as if its light But mock'd our grief Oh! never after dawn For us the east shall streak, But we shall see again, With the same thoughts as then, That pale day break The desolate awakening, When first we feel alone!— "Dread memories" are these! Yet who for heartless ease Would exchange one? These are the soul's hid wealthRelics embalm'd with tears Anon her curious eye Searcheth futurity, The depth of years. And there, in early youth, Enchanted land she sees; Blue skies, and sun-bright bowers Reflected-and tall towers, On glassy seas. But heavy clouds collect Over that bright blue sky; And then, the last thing seen Thus doth the soul extend The short career. Presumptuous and unwise !- Look up, look up, my soul! And when thou turnest back, On" Mem'ry's waste," yet bright: To desolate plains they lie All dark with guilt and tears,— On life's first years. There not a passing cloud But all is hope-not hope- In the young breast. And all confiding love, And holy ignorance- Oh! thither, weary spirit! Flee from this world defiled,- A little child! C. |
