A Love Story, by a Bushman by - (classic literature books TXT) đ
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cannot but wish that happier circumstances had brought you to us. I have
a very great esteem for your brother, and am one of his warmest well
wishers. But I must not neglect the duties of hospitality. You must
allow me to present you to my officers at mess this evening. Our dinner
hour is late; but were it otherwise, we should miss that delightful hour
for our ride, when the sunâs rays have no longer power to harm us, and
the sea breezes waft us a freshness, which almost compensates for the
languor attending the summerâs heat.â
Delmé declined his invitation, stating his wish to dine with his brother
on that day; but expressed himself ready to accept his kind offer on the
ensuing one.
âThank you!â said Colonel Vavasour, âit is natural you should wish to
see your brother; and it pains me to think that poor George cannot yet
dine with his old friends. Have you seen Mr. Graham?â
Delmé replied in the affirmative; adding, that he could not but feel
obliged to him for his frankness.
âI am glad you feel thus,â said Vavasour, âit emboldens me to address
you with equal candour; and, painful as our advice must be, I confess I
am inclined to side with Georgeâs medical attendant. I have myself been
witness to such lamentable proofs of Georgeâs state of mindâhe has so
often, with the tears in his eyes, spoken to me of his feelings with
regard to Acmé Frascati, that I certainly consider these as in a great
measure the cause, and his state of mind the effect. I speak to you,
Sir Henry, without disguise. I had once a brotherâthe apple of my
eyeâI loved him as I shall never love human being more; and, as God is
my witness, under similar circumstances, frankness is what I should have
prayed for,âmy first wish would have been at once to know the worst.
Mr. Graham has told you of his long illnessâhis deliriumâand has, I
conclude, touched upon the present state of his patient. Shall I shock
you, when I add that his lucid intervals are not to be depended upon;
that occasionally the wildest ideas, the most extraordinary projects,
are conceived by him? I wish you not, to act on any thing that Mr.
Graham, or that I may tell you, but to judge for yourself. Without this,
indeed, you would hardly understand the danger of these mental
paroxysms. So fearful are they, that I confess I should be inclined to
adopt any remedy, make any sacrifices which promised the remotest
possibility of success.â
âI trust,â said Sir Henry, âthere are no sacrifices I would not
personally make for my only brother, were I once convinced these were
for his real benefit.â
âI frankly mean,â said Vavasour, âthat I think almost the only chance of
restoring him, is by allowing him to marry AcmĂ© Frascati.â
DelmĂ©âs brow clouded.
âThink not,â continued he, âthat I am ignorant of what such a
determination must cost you. I, too, Sir Henry,ââand the old man drew
his commanding form to its utmost height,ââI too, know what must be
the feelings of a descendant of noble ancestors. I know them well; and
in more youthful days, the blood boiled in my veins as I thought of the
name they had left me. Thank heaven! I have never disgraced it. But were
I situated as you are, and the dead Augustus Vavasour in the place
of the living George Delmé, I would act as I am now advising you to do.
I speak solely as to the expediency of the measure. From what I have
statedâfrom my situation in lifeâfrom my characterâyou may easily
imagine that all my prejudices are enlisted on the other side of the
question. But I must here confess that I see something inexpressibly
touching in the devotion which that young Greek girl displayed, during
the whole of Georgeâs illness. But putting this on one side, and
considering the affair as one of mere expediency, I think you will
finally agree with me, that however desperate the remedy, some such must
be applied. And now, let me assure you, that nothing could have induced
me to obtrude thus, my feelings and opinions on a comparative stranger,
were it not that that stranger is the brother of one in whose welfare I
feel the liveliest interest.â
Sir Henry Delmé expressed his thanks, and inwardly determined that he
would form no opinion till he had himself been witness to some act of
mental aberration. It is true, he had heard the medical attendant give a
decided opinion,âfrom Georgeâs own lips he had an avowal of much that
had been stated,âand now he had heard one, for whom he could not but
feel great respectâone who had evidently no interest in the
questionâdeclare his sentiments as strongly. We are all sanguine as to
what we wish. It may be, that a hope yet lurked in DelmĂ©âs breast, that
these accounts might be unconsciously exaggerated, or that his brotherâs
state of health was now more established than heretofore.
On returning to Floriana, Delmé found George and the blushing Acmé
awaiting him. A delightful feeling is that, of again finding ourselves
with those from whom we have long been parted, once more engaged in the
same round of familiar avocations, once more reacting the thousand
little trifles of life which we have so often acted before, and that,
too, in company with those who now sit beside us, as if to mock the
lapse of intervening years. These meetings seem to steal a pinion from
timeâs wing, and hard indeed were it if the sensations they called forth
were not pleasurable ones; for oh! how rudely and frequently, on the
other hand, are we reminded of the changes which the progress of years
brings with it: the bereavement of loved onesâthe prostration of what
we reveredâour buoyant elasticity of body and mind departedâall things
changing and changed.
We sigh, and gaze back. How few are the scenes, which memoryâs
kaleidoscope presents in their pristine bright colours, of that
journey, performed so slowly, as it once appeared, but which, to the
eye of retrospection, seems to have hurried to its end with the rapid
wings of the wind!
Imbued with an association, what a trivial circumstance will please! As
the brothers touched each otherâs glass; and drank to mutual happiness,
what grateful recollections were called up by that act! How did these
manifest their power, as they lighted up the wan features of George
DelmĂ©. AcmĂ© looked on smilingly; her hair flowing about her neckâher
dark eyes flashing with unusual brilliancy. Delmé felt it would be
unsocial were he alone to look grave; and although many foreboding
thoughts crowded on him, he too seemed to be happy. It was twilight
when the dinner was over. The windows were open, and the party placed
themselves near the jalousies. They here commanded a view of the public
gardens, where groups of Maltese were enjoying the coolness of the hour,
and the fragrance of the flowers. The walk had a roof of lattice work
supported by wooden pillars; round which, an image of womanâs love, the
honeysuckle clingingly twined, diffusing sweets.
Immediately before them, the principal outlet of the town presented
itself. Laughing parties of English sailors were passing, mounted on
steeds of every size, which they were urging forward, in spite of the
piteous remonstrances of the menials of their owners. The latter, for
the most part, held by the tails of their animals, and uttered a
jargon composed of English, Italian, and Maltese. The only words
however, that met the unregarding ears of the sailors, were some such
exclamations as these.
âNot you go so fast, Signore; he good horse, but much tire.â
The riders sat in their saddles swinging from side to side, evidently
thinking their tenure more precarious than that on the giddy mast; and
wholly unmindful of the expressive gestures, and mournful ejaculations
of the bare-legged pursuers. At another time, their antics and
buffoonery, as they made unmerciful use of the short sticks with which
they were armed, would have provoked a smile. Now our party gazed on
these things as they move the wise. They felt calm and happy; and
deceptive hope whispered they might yet remain so. Acmé took up her
guitar, and throwing her fingers over it, as she gave a soft prelude,
warbled that sweet although common song, âBuona notte, amato bene.â She
sung with great feeling, and feeling is the soul of music.
How plaintively! how tenderly did her lips breathe the
âricordati! ricordati di me!â
There was something extremely witching in her precocious charms. She
resembled some beauteous bud, just ready to burst into light and bloom.
It is not yet the rose,âbut a moment more may make it such. Her
beauties were thus ripe for maturity. It seemed as if the sunshine of
love were already upon themâthey were basking in its rays. A brief
spaceâand the girl shall no longer be such. What was promise shall be
beauty. She shall meet the charmed eye a woman; rich in grace and
loveliness. As DelmĂ© marked her sympathising glance at Georgeâher
beaming featuresâher innocent simplicity;âas he thought of all she had
lost, all she had suffered for his brotherâs sake,âas he thought of the
scorn of the manyâthe pity of the fewâthe unwearied watchingâthe
sleepless nightsâthe day of sorrow passed by the bed of sicknessâall
so cheerfully encountered for himâhe could not reproach her. No! he
took her hand, and the brothers whispered consolation to her, and to
each other.
Late that evening, they were joined by Colonel Vavasour, and Mr. Graham.
Georgeâs spirits rose hourly. Never had his Colonel appeared to such
advantageâAcmĂ© so lovelyâor Henry so kindâas they did to George DelmĂ©
that night.
It was with a sigh at the past pleasures that George retired to
his chamber.
Chapter XII.
The Mess.
âRed coats and redder faces.â
The following day, a room having been given up to Delmé, he discharged
his bill at Beverleyâs; and moved to Floriana. He again accompanied
George in his drive; and they had on this occasion, the advantage of
AcmĂ©âs society, who amused them with her artless description of the
manners of the lower orders of Maltese.
Pursuant to his promise, at the bugleâs signal DelmĂ© entered the mess
room; and the Colonel immediately introduced him to the assembled
officers. To his disappointment, for he felt curious to see one, who had
exercised such an influence over his brother, Delancey was not amongst
them. Sir Henry was much pleased with the feeling that appeared to
exist, between Colonel Vavasour and his corps of officers:ârespect on
one sideâand the utmost confidence on both. We think it is the talented
author of Pelham, who describes a mess table as comprising âcold dishes
and hot wines, where the conversation is of Johnson of ours and Thomson
of jours.â
This, though severe, is near the truth; and if, to this description, be
added lots of plate of that pattern called the Queenâsâungainly
servants in stiff mess liveriesâand a perpetual recurrence to Mr. Vice;
we have certainly caught the most glaring features of a commonplace
regimental dinner. Vavasour was well aware of this, and had directed
unremitting attention, to give a tone to the conversation at the mess
table, more nearly approaching to that of private life; one which should
embrace topics of general interest, and convey some general information.
Even in his well ordered regiment, there were some, whose nature would
have led them, to confine their attention to thoughts of the daily
military routine. This
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