CHAPTER XI.
NEXT.
Lieut. Worthington's leave had nearly expired. He must rejoin hisship; but he waited till the last possible moment in order to help hissister through the move to Albano, where it had been decided that Amyshould go for a few days of hill air before undertaking the longerjourney to Florence.
It was a perfect morning in late March when the pale little invalid wascarried in her uncle's strong arms, and placed in the carriage which wasto take them to the old town on the mountain slopes which they had seenshining from far away for so many weeks past. Spring had come in herfairest shape to Italy. The Campagna had lost its brown and tawny huesand taken on a tinge of fresher color. The olive orchards were buddingthickly. Almond boughs extended their dazzling shapes across the bluesky. Arums and acanthus and ivy filled every hollow, roses nodded fromover every gate, while a carpet of violets and cyclamen and primrosesstretched over the fields and freighted every wandering wind withfragrance.
When once the Campagna with its long line of aqueducts, arches, andhoary tombs was left behind, and the carriage slowly began to mount thegradual rises of the hill, Amy revived. With every breath of the fresherair her eyes seemed to brighten and her voice to grow stronger. She heldMabel up to look at the view; and the sound of her laugh, faint andfeeble as it was, was like music to her mother's ears.
Amy wore a droll little silk-lined cap on her head, over which a downygrowth of pale-brown fuzz was gradually thickening. Already it showed atendency to form into tiny rings, which to Amy, who had always hankeredfor curls, was an extreme satisfaction. Strange to say, the same thingexactly had happened to Mabel; her hair had grown out into soft littleround curls also! Uncle Ned and Katy had ransacked Rome for thisbaby-wig, which filled and realized all Amy's hopes for her child. Onthe same excursion they had bought the materials for the pretty springsuit which Mabel wore, for it had been deemed necessary to sacrificemost of her wardrobe as a concession to possible fever-germs. Amyadmired the pearl-colored dress and hat, the fringed jacket and littlelace-trimmed parasol so much, that she was quite consoled for the lossof the blue velvet costume and ermine muff which had been the pride ofher heart ever since they left Paris, and whose destruction they hadscarcely dared to confess to her.
So up, up, up, they climbed till the gateway of the old town was passed,and the carriage stopped before a quaint building once the residence ofthe Bishop of Albano, but now known as the Hotel de la Poste. Here theyalighted, and were shown up a wide and lofty staircase to their rooms,which were on the sunny side of the house, and looked across a walledgarden, where roses and lemon trees grew beside old fountains guarded bysculptured lions and heathen divinities with broken noses and a scantsupply of fingers and toes, to the Campagna, purple with distance andstretching miles and miles away to where Rome sat on her seven hills,lifting high the Dome of St. Peter's into the illumined air.
Nurse Swift said that Amy must go to bed at once, and have a long rest.But Amy nearly wept at the proposal, and declared that she was not a bittired and couldn't sleep if she went to bed ever so much. The change ofair had done her good already, and she looked more like herself than formany weeks past. They compromised their dispute on a sofa, where Amy,well wrapped up, was laid, and where, in spite of her protestations, shepresently fell asleep, leaving the others free to examine and arrangetheir new quarters.
Such enormous rooms as they were! It was quite a journey to go from oneside of them to another. The floors were of stone, with squares ofcarpet laid down over them, which looked absurdly small for the greatspaces they were supposed to cover. The beds and tables were of theusual size, but they seemed almost like doll furniture because thechambers were so big. A quaint old paper, with an enormous pattern ofbanyan trees and pagodas, covered the walls, and every now and thenbetrayed by an oblong of regular cracks the existence of a hidden door,papered to look exactly like the rest of the wall.
These mysterious doors made Katy nervous, and she never rested till shehad opened every one of them and explored the places they led to. Onegave access to a queer little bathroom. Another led, through a narrowdark passage, to a sort of balcony or loggia overhanging the garden. Athird ended in a dusty closet with an artful chink in it from which youcould peep into what had been the Bishop's drawing-room but which wasnow turned into the dining-room of the hotel. It seemed made forpurposes of espial; and Katy had visions of a long line of reverendprelates with their ears glued to the chink, overhearing what was beingsaid about them in the apartment beyond.
The most surprising of all she did not discover till she was going tobed on the second night after their arrival, when she thought she knewall about the mysterious doors and what they led to. A littleunexplained draught of wind made her candle flicker, and betrayed theexistence of still another door so cunningly hid in the wall patternthat she had failed to notice it. She had quite a creepy feeling as shedrew her dressing-gown about her, took a light, and entered the narrowpassage into which it opened. It was not a long passage, and endedpresently in a tiny oratory. There was a little marble altar, with akneeling-step and candlesticks and a great crucifix above. Ends of waxcandles still remained in the candlesticks, and bunches of dusty paperflowers filled the vases which stood on either side of them. A fadedsilk cushion lay on the step. Doubtless the Bishop had often kneltthere. Katy felt as if she were the first person to enter the placesince he went away. Her common-sense told her that in a hotel bedroomconstantly occupied by strangers for years past, some one _must_ havediscovered the door and found the little oratory before her; butcommon-sense is sometimes less satisfactory than romance. Katy liked tothink that she was the first, and to "make believe" that no one elseknew about it; so she did so, and invented legends about the place whichAmy considered better than any fairy story.
Before he left them Lieutenant Worthington had a talk with his sisterin the garden. She rather forced this talk upon him, for variousthings were lying at her heart about which she longed for explanation;but he yielded so easily to her wiles that it was evident he was notaverse to the idea.
"Come, Polly, don't beat about the bush any longer," he said at last,amused and a little irritated at her half-hints and little feminine_finesses_. "I know what you want to ask; and as there's no usemaking a secret of it, I will take my turn in asking. Have I any chance,do you think?"
"Any chance?--about Katy, do you mean? Oh, Ned, you make me so happy."
"Yes; about her, of course."
"I don't see why you should say 'of course,'" remarked his sister, withthe perversity of her sex, "when it's only five or six weeks ago that Iwas lying awake at night for fear you were being gobbled up by thatLilly Page."
"There was a little risk of it," replied her brother, seriously. "She'sawfully pretty and she dances beautifully, and the other fellows wereall wild about her, and--well, you know yourself how such things go. Ican't see now what it was that I fancied so much about her, I don'tsuppose I could have told exactly at the time; but I can tell withoutthe smallest trouble what it is in--the other."
"In Katy? I should think so," cried Mrs. Ashe, emphatically; "the twoare no more to be compared than--than--well, bread and syllabub! You canlive on one, and you can't live on the other."
"Come, now, Miss Page isn't so bad as that. She is a nice girl enough,and a pretty girl too,--prettier than Katy; I'm not so far gone that Ican't see that. But we won't talk about her, she's not in the presentquestion at all; very likely she'd have had nothing to say to me in anycase. I was only one out of a dozen, and she never gave me reason tosuppose that she cared more for me than the rest. Let us talk about thisfriend of yours; have I any chance at all, do you think, Polly?"
"Ned, you are the dearest boy! I would rather have Katy for a sisterthan any one else I know. She's so nice all through,--so true and sweetand satisfactory."
"She is all that and more; she's a woman to tie to for life, to beperfectly sure of always. She would make a splendid wife for any man.I'm not half good enough for her; but the qu
estion is,--and you haven'tanswered it yet, Polly,--what's my chance?"
"I don't know," said his sister, slowly.
"Then I must ask herself, and I shall do so to-day."
"I don't know," repeated Mrs. Ashe. "'She is a woman, therefore to bewon:' and I don't think there is any one ahead of you; that is the besthope I have to offer, Ned. Katy never talks of such things; and thoughshe's so frank, I can't guess whether or not she ever thinks about them.She likes you, however, I am sure of that. But, Ned, it will not be wiseto say anything to her yet."
"Not say anything? Why not?"
"No. Recollect that it is only a little while since she looked upon youas the admirer of another girl, and a girl she doesn't like very much,though they are cousins. You must give her time to get over thatimpression. Wait awhile; that's my advice, Ned."
"I'll wait any time if only she will say yes in the end. But it's hardto go away without a word of hope, and it's more like a man to speakout, it seems to me."
"It's too soon," persisted his sister. "You don't want her to thinkyou a fickle fellow, falling in love with a fresh girl every time yougo into port, and falling out again when the ship sails. Sailors havea bad reputation for that sort of thing. No woman cares to win a manlike that."
"Great Scott! I should think not! Do you mean to say that is the way myconduct appears to her, Polly?"
"No, I don't mean just that; but wait, dear Ned, I am sure it isbetter."
Fortified by this sage counsel, Lieutenant Worthington went away nextmorning, without saying anything to Katy in words, though perhaps eyesand tones may have been less discreet. He made them promise that someone should send a letter every day about Amy; and as Mrs. Ashefrequently devolved the writing of these bulletins upon Katy, and thereplies came in the shape of long letters, she found herself conductinga pretty regular correspondence without quite intending it. NedWorthington wrote particularly nice letters. He had the knack, moreoften found in women than men, of giving a picture with a few graphictouches, and indicating what was droll or what was characteristic witha single happy phrase. His letters grew to be one of Katy's pleasures;and sometimes, as Mrs. Ashe watched the color deepen in her cheekswhile she read, her heart would bound hopefully within her. But she wasa wise woman in her way, and she wanted Katy for a sister very much; soshe never said a word or looked a look to startle or surprise her, butleft the thing to work itself out, which is the best course always inlove affairs.
Little Amy's improvement at Albano was something remarkable. Mrs. Swiftwatched over her like a lynx. Her vigilance never relaxed. Amy was madeto eat and sleep and walk and rest with the regularity of a machine; andthis exact system, combined with the good air, worked like a charm. Thelittle one gained hour by hour. They could absolutely see her growingfat, her mother declared. Fevers, when they do not kill, operatesometimes as spring bonfires do in gardens, burning up all the refuseand leaving the soil free for the growth of fairer things; and Amypromised in time to be only the better and stronger for her hardexperience.
She had gained so much before the time came to start for Florence, thatthey scarcely dreaded the journey; but it proved worse than theirexpectations. They had not been able to secure a carriage to themselves,and were obliged to share their compartment with two English ladies, andthree Roman Catholic priests, one old, the others young. The olderpriest seemed to be a person of some consequence; for quite a number ofpeople came to see him off, and knelt for his blessing devoutly as thetrain moved away. The younger ones Katy guessed to be seminary studentsunder his charge. Her chief amusement through the long dusty journey wasin watching the terrible time that one of these young men was havingwith his own hat. It was a large three-cornered black affair, with sharpangles and excessively stiff; and a perpetual struggle seemed to begoing on between it and its owner, who was evidently unhappy when it wason his head and still more unhappy when it was anywhere else. If heperched it on his knees it was sure to slide away from him and fall witha thump on the floor, whereupon he would pick it up, blushing furiouslyas he did so. Then he would lay it on the seat when the train stopped ata station, and jump out with an air of relief; but he invariably forgot,and sat down upon it when he returned, and sprang up with a look ofhorror at the loud crackle it made; after which he would tuck it intothe baggage-rack overhead, from which it would presently descend,generally into the lap of one of the staid English ladies, who wouldhand it back to him with an air of deep offence, remarking to hercompanion,--
"I never knew anything like it. Fancy! that makes four times that hathas fallen on me. The young man is a feedgit! He's the most feegittycreature I ever saw in my life."
The young _seminariat_ did not understand a word she said; but thetone needed no interpreter, and set him to blushing more painfully thanever. Altogether, the hat was never off his mind for a moment. Katycould see that he was thinking about it, even when he was thumbing hisBreviary and making believe to read.
At last the train, steaming down the valley of the Arno, revealed fairFlorence sitting among olive-clad hills, with Giotto's beautifulBell-tower, and the great, many-colored, soft-hued Cathedral, and thesquare tower of the old Palace, and the quaint bridges over the river,looking exactly as they do in the photographs; and Katy would have feltdelighted, in spite of dust and fatigue, had not Amy looked so worn outand exhausted. They were seriously troubled about her, and for themoment could think of nothing else. Happily the fatigue did no permanentharm, and a day or two of rest made her all right again. By goodfortune, a nice little apartment in the modern quarter of the city hadbeen vacated by its winter occupants the very day of their arrival, andMrs. Ashe secured it for a month, with all its conveniences andadvantages, including a maid named Maria, who had been servant to thejust departed tenants.
Maria was a very tall woman, at least six feet two, and had a splendidcontralto voice, which she occasionally exercised while busy over herpots and pans. It was so remarkable to hear these grand arias andrecitatives proceeding from a kitchen some eight feet square, that Katywas at great pains to satisfy her curiosity about it. By aid of thedictionary and much persistent questioning, she made out that Maria inher youth had received a partial training for the opera; but in the endit was decided that she was too big and heavy for the stage, and thepoor "giantess," as Amy named her, had been forced to abandon hercareer, and gradually had sunk to the position of a maid-of-all-work.Katy suspected that heaviness of mind as well as of body must have stoodin her way; for Maria, though a good-natured giantess, was by no meansquick of intelligence.
"I do think that the manner in which people over here can make homes forthemselves at five minutes' notice is perfectly delightful," cried Katy,at the end of their first day's housekeeping. "I wish we could do thesame in America. How cosy it looks here already!"
It was indeed cosy. Their new domain consisted of a parlor in a corner,furnished in bright yellow brocade, with windows to south and west; anice little dining-room; three bedrooms, with dimity-curtained beds; asquare entrance hall, lighted at night by a tall slender brass lampwhose double wicks were fed with olive oil; and the aforesaid tinykitchen, behind which was a sleeping cubby, quite too small to be a goodfit for the giantess. The rooms were full of conveniences,--easy-chairs,sofas, plenty of bureaus and dressing-tables, and corner fireplaces likeFranklin stoves, in which odd little fires burned on cool days, made ofpine cones, cakes of pressed sawdust exactly like Boston brown bread cutinto slices, and a few sticks of wood thriftily adjusted, for fuel isworth its weight in gold in Florence. Katy's was the smallest of thebedrooms, but she liked it best of all for the reason that its one bigwindow opened on an iron balcony over which grew a Banksia rose-vinewith a stem as thick as her wrist. It was covered just now with massesof tiny white blossoms, whose fragrance was inexpressibly delicious andmade every breath drawn in their neighborhood a delight. The sunstreamed in on all sides of the little apartment, which filled anarrowing angle at the union of three streets; and from one window andanother, glimpses could be caught
of the distant heights about thecity,--San Miniato in one direction, Bellosguardo in another, and forthe third the long olive-hung ascent of Fiesole, crowned by its graycathedral towers.
It was astonishing how easily everything fell into train about thelittle establishment. Every morning at six the English baker left twosmall sweet brown loaves and a dozen rolls at the door. Then followedthe dairyman with a supply of tiny leaf-shaped pats of freshly churnedbutter, a big flask of milk, and two small bottles of thick cream, witha twist of vine leaf in each by way of a cork. Next came a _contadino_with a flask of red Chianti wine, a film of oil floating on top to keepit sweet. People in Florence must drink wine, whether they like it ornot, because the lime-impregnated water is unsafe for use without someadmixture.
Dinner came from a _trattoria_, in a tin box, with a pan of coals insideto keep it warm, which box was carried on a man's head. It was furnishedat a fixed price per day,--a soup, two dishes of meat, two vegetables,and a sweet dish; and the supply was so generous as always to leavesomething toward next day's luncheon. Salad, fruit, and fresh eggs Mariabought for them in the old market. From the confectioners came loaves of_pane santo_, a sort of light cake made with arrowroot instead of flour;and sometimes, by way of treat, a square of _pan forte da Siena_,compounded of honey, almonds, and chocolate,--a mixture as perniciousas it is delicious, and which might take a medal anywhere for the sureproduction of nightmares.
Amy soon learned to know the shops from which these delicacies came.She had her favorites, too, among the strolling merchants who soldoranges and those little sweet native figs, dried in the sun withoutsugar, which are among the specialties of Florence. They, in theirturn, learned to know her and to watch for the appearance of her littlecapped head and Mabel's blond wig at the window, lingering about tillshe came, and advertising their wares with musical modulations, soappealing that Amy was always running to Katy, who acted ashousekeeper, to beg her to please buy this or that, "because it is myold man, and he wants me to so much."
"But, chicken, we have plenty of figs for to-day."
"No matter; get some more, please do. I'll eat them all; really, Iwill."
And Amy was as good as her word. Her convalescent appetite was somethingprodigious.
There was another branch of shopping in which they all took equaldelight. The beauty and the cheapness of the Florence flowers are acontinual surprise to a stranger. Every morning after breakfast an oldman came creaking up the two long flights of stairs which led to Mrs.Ashe's apartment, tapped at the door, and as soon as it opened, inserteda shabby elbow and a large flat basket full of flowers. Such flowers!Great masses of scarlet and cream-colored tulips, and white and goldnarcissus, knots of roses of all shades, carnations, heavy-headed trailsof wistaria, wild hyacinths, violets, deep crimson and orangeranunculus, _giglios_, or wild irises,--the Florence emblem, so deeplypurple as to be almost black,--anemones, spring-beauties, faintly tintedwood-blooms tied in large loose nosegays, ivy, fruitblossoms,--everything that can be thought of that is fair and sweet.These enticing wares the old man would tip out on the table. Mrs. Asheand Katy would select what they wanted, and then the process ofbargaining would begin, without which no sale is complete in Italy. Theold man would name an enormous price, five times as much as he hoped toget. Katy would offer a very small one, considerably less than sheexpected to give. The old man would dance with dismay, wring his hands,assure them that he should die of hunger and all his family with him ifhe took less than the price named; he would then come down half a francin his demand. So it would go on for five minutes, ten, sometimes for aquarter of an hour, the old man's price gradually descending, and Katy'sterms very slowly going up, a cent or two at a time. Next the giantesswould mingle with the fray. She would bounce out of her kitchen, beratethe flower-vender, snatch up his flowers, declare that they smelt badly,fling them down again, pouring out all the while a voluble tirade ofreproaches and revilings, and looking so enormous in her excitement thatKaty wondered that the old man dared to answer her at all. Finally,there would be a sudden lull. The old man would shrug his shoulders, andremarking that he and his wife and his aged grandmother must go withoutbread that day since it was the Signora's will, take the money offeredand depart, leaving such a mass of flowers behind him that Katy wouldbegin to think that they had paid an unfair price for them and to feel alittle rueful, till she observed that the old man was absolutely dancingdownstairs with rapture over the good bargain he had made, and thatMaria was black with indignation over the extravagance of her ladies!
"The Americani are a nation of spend-thrifts," she would mutter toherself, as she quickened the charcoal in her droll little range byfanning it with a palm-leaf fan; "they squander money like water. Well,all the better for us Italians!" with a shrug of her shoulders.
"But, Maria, it was only sixteen cents that we paid, and look at thoseflowers! There are at least half a bushel of them."
"Sixteen cents for garbage like that! The Signorina would better let memake her bargains for her. _Gia! Gia!_ No Italian lady would have paidmore than eleven sous for such useless _roba_. It is evident that theSignorina's countrymen eat gold when at home, they think so little ofcasting it away!"
Altogether, what with the comfort and quiet of this little home, thenumberless delightful things that there were to do and to see, andViessieux's great library, from which they could draw books at willto make the doing and seeing more intelligible, the month atFlorence passed only too quickly, and was one of the times to whichthey afterward looked back with most pleasure. Amy grew steadilystronger, and the freedom from anxiety about her after their longstrain of apprehension was restful and healing beyond expression toboth mind and body.
Their very last excursion of all, and one of the pleasantest, was to theold amphitheatre at Fiesole; and it was while they sat there in the softglow of the late afternoon, tying into bunches the violets which theyhad gathered from under walls whose foundations antedate Rome itself,that a cheery call sounded from above, and an unexpected surprisedescended upon them in the shape of Lieutenant Worthington, who havingsecured another fifteen days' furlough, had come to take his sister onto Venice.
"I didn't write you that I had applied for leave," he explained,"because there seemed so little chance of my getting off again so soon;but as luck had it, Carruthers, whose turn it was, sprained his ankleand was laid up, and the Commodore let us exchange. I made all thecapital I could out of Amy's fever; but upon my word, I felt like ahumbug when I came upon her and Mrs. Swift in the Cascine just now, as Iwas hunting for you. How she has picked up! I should never have knownher for the same child."
"Yes, she seems perfectly well again, and as strong as before she hadthe fever, though that dear old Goody Swift is just as careful of her asever. She would not let us bring her here this afternoon, for fear weshould stay out till the dew fell. Ned, it is perfectly delightful thatyou were able to come. It makes going to Venice seem quite a differentthing, doesn't it, Katy?"
"I don't want it to seem quite different, because going to Venice wasalways one of my dreams," replied Katy, with a little laugh.
"I hope at least it doesn't make it seem less pleasant," said Mr.Worthington, as his sister stopped to pick a violet.
"No, indeed, I am glad," said Katy; "we shall all be seeing it forthe first time, too, shall we not? I think you said you had neverbeen there." She spoke simply and frankly, but she was conscious ofan odd shyness.
"I simply couldn't stand it any longer," Ned Worthington confided to hissister when they were alone. "My head is so full of her that I can'tattend to my work, and it came to me all of a sudden that this might bemy last chance. You'll be getting north before long, you know, toSwitzerland and so on, where I cannot follow you. So I made a cleanbreast of it to the Commodore; and the good old fellow, who has a softspot in his heart for a love-story, behaved like a brick, and made itall straight for me to come away."
Mrs. Ashe did not join in these commendations of the Commodore; herattention was fixed on another
part of her brother's discourse.
"Then you won't be able to come to me again? I sha'n't see you againafter this!" she exclaimed. "Dear me! I never realized that before. Whatshall I do without you?"
"You will have Miss Carr. She is a host in herself," suggested NedWorthington. His sister shook her head.
"Katy is a jewel," she remarked presently; "but somehow one wants a manto call upon. I shall feel lost without you, Ned."
The month's housekeeping wound up that night with a "thick tea" in honorof Lieutenant Worthington's arrival, which taxed all the resources ofthe little establishment. Maria was sent out hastily to buy _pan forteda Siena_ and _vino d'Asti_, and fresh eggs for an omelette, andchickens' breasts smothered in cream from the restaurant, and artichokesfor a salad, and flowers to garnish all; and the guest ate and praisedand admired; and Amy and Mabel sat on his knee and explained everythingto him, and they were all very happy together. Their merriment was soinfectious that it extended to the poor giantess, who had been verypensive all day at the prospect of losing her good place, and who nowraised her voice in the grand aria from "Orfeo," and made the kitchenring with the passionate demand "Che faro senza Eurydice?" The splendidnotes, full of fire and lamentation, rang out across the saucepans aseffectively as if they had been footlights; and Katy, rising softly,opened the kitchen door a little way that they might not lose a sound.
The next day brought them to Venice. It was a "moment," indeed, as Katyseated herself for the first time in a gondola, and looked from beneathits black hood at the palace walls on the Grand Canal, past which theywere gliding. Some were creamy white and black, some orange-tawny,others of a dull delicious ruddy color, half pink, half red; but all, inbuild and ornament, were unlike palaces elsewhere. High on the prowbefore her stood the gondolier, his form defined in dark outline againstthe sky, as he swayed and bent to his long oar, raising his head now andagain to give a wild musical cry, as warning to other approachinggondolas. It was all like a dream. Ned Worthington sat beside her,looking more at the changes in her expressive face than at the palaces.Venice was as new to him as to Katy; but she was a new feature in hislife also, and even more interesting than Venice. They seemed to floaton pleasures for the next ten days. Their arrival had been happily timedto coincide with a great popular festival which for nearly a week keptVenice in a state of continual brilliant gala. All the days were spenton the water, only landing now and then to look at some famous buildingor picture, or to eat ices in the Piazza with the lovely facade of St.Mark's before them. Dining or sleeping seemed a sheer waste of time! Theevenings were spent on the water too; for every night, immediately aftersunset, a beautiful drifting pageant started from the front of theDoge's Palace to make the tour of the Grand Canal, and our friendsalways took a part in it. In its centre went a barge hung withembroideries and filled with orange trees and musicians. This wassurrounded by a great convoy of skiffs and gondolas bearing coloredlanterns and pennons and gay awnings, and managed by gondoliers inpicturesque uniforms. All these floated and shifted and swept ontogether with a sort of rhythmic undulation as if keeping time to themusic, while across their path dazzling showers and arches of coloredfire poured from the palace fronts and the hotels. Every movement of thefairy flotilla was repeated in the illuminated water, every torch-tipand scarlet lantern and flake of green or rosy fire; above all thebright full moon looked down as if surprised. It was magically beautifulin effect. Katy felt as if her previous sober ideas about life andthings had melted away. For the moment the world was turned topsy-turvy.There was nothing hard or real or sordid left in it; it was just a fairytale, and she was in the middle of it as she had longed to be in herchildhood. She was the Princess, encircled by delights, as when she andClover and Elsie played in "Paradise,"--only, this was better; and, dearme! who was this Prince who seemed to belong to the story and to growmore important to it every day?
Fairy tales must come to ending. Katy's last chapter closed with asudden turn-over of the leaf when, toward the end of this happyfortnight, Mrs. Ashe came into her room with the face of one who hasunpleasant news to communicate.
"Katy," she began, "should you be _awfully_ disappointed, shouldyou consider me a perfect wretch, if I went home now instead of inthe autumn?"
Katy was too much astonished to reply.
"I am grown such a coward, I am so knocked up and weakened by what Isuffered in Rome, that I find I cannot face the idea of going on toGermany and Switzerland alone, without Ned to take care of me. You are aperfect angel, dear, and I know that you would do all you could to makeit easy for me, but I am such a fool that I do not dare. I think mynerves must have given way," she continued half tearfully; "but the veryidea of shifting for myself for five months longer makes me so miserablyhomesick that I cannot endure it. I dare say I shall repent afterward,and I tell myself now how silly it is; but it's no use,--I shall neverknow another easy moment till I have Amy safe again in America and underyour father's care."
"I find," she continued after another little pause, "that we can go downwith Ned to Genoa and take a steamer there which will carry us straightto New York without any stops. I hate to disappoint you dreadfully,Katy, but I have almost decided to do it. Shall you mind very much? Canyou ever forgive me?" She was fairly crying now.
Katy had to swallow hard before she could answer, the sense ofdisappointment was so sharp; and with all her efforts there was almost asob in her voice as she said,--
"Why yes, indeed, dear Polly, there is nothing to forgive. You areperfectly right to go home if you feel so." Then with another swallowshe added: "You have given me the loveliest six months' treat that everwas, and I should be a greedy girl indeed if I found fault because it iscut off a little sooner than we expected."
"You are so dear and good not to be vexed," said her friend, embracingher. "It makes me feel doubly sorry about disappointing you. Indeed Iwouldn't if I could help it, but I simply can't. I _must_ go home.Perhaps we'll come back some day when Amy is grown up, or safely marriedto somebody who will take good care of her!"
This distant prospect was but a poor consolation for the immediatedisappointment. The more Katy thought about it the sorrier did she feel.It was not only losing the chance--very likely the only one she wouldever have--of seeing Switzerland and Germany; it was all sorts of otherlittle things besides. They must go home in a strange ship with acaptain they did not know, instead of in the "Spartacus," as they hadplanned; and they should land in New York, where no one would be waitingfor them, and not have the fun of sailing into Boston Bay and seeingRose on the wharf, where she had promised to be. Furthermore, they mustpass the hot summer in Burnet instead of in the cool Alpine valleys; andPolly's house was let till October. She and Amy would have to shift forthemselves elsewhere. Perhaps they would not be in Burnet at all. Ohdear, what a pity it was! what a dreadful pity!
Then, the first shock of surprise and discomfiture over, other ideasasserted themselves; and as she realized that in three weeks more, orfour at the longest, she was to see papa and Clover and all her dearpeople at home, she began to feel so very glad that she could hardlywait for the time to come. After all, there was nothing in Europe quiteso good as that.
"No, I'm not sorry," she told herself; "I am glad. Poor Polly! it's nowonder she feels nervous after all she has gone through. I hope I wasn'tcross to her! And it will be _very_ nice to have Lieutenant Worthingtonto take care of us as far as Genoa."
The next three days were full of work. There was no more floating ingondolas, except in the way of business. All the shopping which they hadput off must be done, and the trunks packed for the voyage. Every onerecollected last errands and commissions; there was continual coming andgoing and confusion, and Amy, wild with excitement, popping up everyother moment in the midst of it all, to demand of everybody if they werenot glad that they were going back to America.
Katy had never yet bought her gift from old Mrs. Redding. She hadwaited, thinking continually that she should see something more temptingstill in the next place the
y went to; but now, with the sense that therewere to be no more "next places," she resolved to wait no longer, andwith a hundred francs in her pocket, set forth to choose something fromamong the many tempting things for sale in the Piazza. A bracelet of oldRoman coins had caught her fancy one day in a bric-a-brac shop, and shewalked straight toward it, only pausing by the way to buy a pale blueiridescent pitcher at Salviate's for Cecy Slack, and see it carefullyrolled in seaweed and soft paper.
The price of the bracelet was a little more than she expected, and quitea long process of bargaining was necessary to reduce it to the sum shehad to spend. She had just succeeded and was counting out the money whenMrs. Ashe and her brother appeared, having spied her from the oppositeside of the Piazza, where they were choosing last photographs at Naga's.Katy showed her purchase and explained that it was a present; "for ofcourse I should never walk out in cold blood and buy a bracelet formyself," she said with a laugh.
"This is a fascinating little shop," said Mrs. Ashe. "I wonderwhat is the price of that queer old chatelaine with the bottleshanging from it."
The price was high; but Mrs. Ashe was now tolerably conversant withshopping Italian, which consists chiefly of a few words repeated manytimes over, and it lowered rapidly under the influence of her _troppo's_and _e molto caro's_, accompanied with telling little shrugs and looksof surprise. In the end she bought it for less than two thirds of whathad been originally asked for it. As she put the parcel in her pocket,her brother said,--
"If you have done your shopping now, Polly, can't you come out for alast row?"
"Katy may, but I can't," replied Mrs. Ashe. "The man promised to bringme gloves at six o'clock, and I must be there to pay for them. Takeher down to the Lido, Ned. It's an exquisite evening for the water,and the sunset promises to be delicious. You can take the time, can'tyou, Katy?"
Katy could.
Mrs. Ashe turned to leave them, but suddenly stopped short.
"Katy, look! Isn't that a picture!"
The "picture" was Amy, who had come to the Piazza with Mrs. Swift, tofeed the doves of St. Mark's, which was one of her favorite amusements.These pretty birds are the pets of all Venice, and so accustomed tobeing fondled and made much of by strangers, that they are perfectlytame. Amy, when her mother caught sight of her, was sitting on themarble pavement, with one on her shoulder, two perched on the edge ofher lap, which was full of crumbs, and a flight of others circling roundher head. She was looking up and calling them in soft tones. Thesunlight caught the little downy curls on her head and made themglitter. The flying doves lit on the pavement, and crowded round her,their pearl and gray and rose-tinted and white feathers, their scarletfeet and gold-ringed eyes, making a shifting confusion of colors, asthey hopped and fluttered and cooed about the little maid, unstartledeven by her clear laughter. Close by stood Nurse Swift, observant andgrimly pleased.
The mother looked on with happy tears in her eyes. "Oh, Katy, thinkwhat she was a few weeks ago and look at her now! Can I ever bethankful enough?"
She squeezed Katy's hand convulsively and walked away, turning her headnow and then for another glance at Amy and the doves; while Ned and Katysilently crossed to the landing and got into a gondola. It was theperfection of a Venice evening, with silver waves lapsing and lullingunder a rose and opal sky; and the sense that it was their last row onthose enchanted waters made every moment seem doubly precious.
I cannot tell you exactly what it was that Ned Worthington said to Katyduring that row, or why it took so long to say it that they did not getin till after the sun was set, and the stars had come out to peep attheir bright, glinting faces, reflected in the Grand Canal. In fact, noone can tell; for no one overheard, except Giacomo, the brownyellow-jacketed gondolier, and as he did not understand a word ofEnglish he could not repeat the conversation. Venetian boatmen, however,know pretty well what it means when a gentleman and lady, both young,find so much to say in low tones to each other under the gondola hood,and are so long about giving the order to return; and Giacomo, deeplysympathetic, rowed as softly and made himself as imperceptible as hecould,--a display of tact which merited the big silver piece with whichLieutenant Worthington "crossed his palm" on landing.
Mrs. Ashe had begun to look for them long before they appeared, but Ithink she was neither surprised nor sorry that they were so late. Katykissed her hastily and went away at once,--"to pack," she said,--andNed was equally undemonstrative; but they looked so happy, both of them,that "Polly dear" was quite satisfied and asked no questions.
Five days later the parting came, when the "Florio" steamer put into theport of Genoa for passengers. It was not an easy good-by to say. Mrs.Ashe and Amy both cried, and Mabel was said to be in deep afflictionalso. But there were alleviations. The squadron was coming home in theautumn, and the officers would have leave to see their friends, and ofcourse Lieutenant Worthington must come to Burnet--to visit his sister.Five months would soon go, he declared; but for all the cheerfulassurance, his face was rueful enough as he held Katy's hand in a longtight clasp while the little boat waited to take him ashore.
After that it was just a waiting to be got through with till theysighted Sandy Hook and the Neversinks,--a waiting varied with peeps atMarseilles and Gibraltar and the sight of a whale or two and one distanticeberg. The weather was fair all the way, and the ocean smooth. Amy wasnever weary of lamenting her own stupidity in not having taken MariaMatilda out of confinement before they left Venice.
"That child has hardly been out of the trunk since we started," shesaid. "She hasn't seen anything except a little bit of Nice. I shallreally be ashamed when the other children ask her about it. I think Ishall play that she was left at boarding-school and didn't come toEurope at all! Don't you think that would be the best way, mamma?"
"You might play that she was left in the States-prison for having donesomething naughty," suggested Katy; but Amy scouted this idea.
"She never does naughty things," she said, "because she never doesanything at all. She's just stupid, poor child! It's not her fault."
The thirty-six hours between New York and Burnet seemed longer than allthe rest of the journey put together, Katy thought. But they ended atlast, as the "Lake Queen" swung to her moorings at the familiar wharf,where Dr. Carr stood surrounded with all his boys and girls just as theyhad stood the previous October, only that now there were no clouds onanybody's face, and Johnnie was skipping up and down for joy instead ofgrief. It was a long moment while the plank was being lowered from thegangway; but the moment it was in place, Katy darted across, firstashore of all the passengers, and was in her father's arms.
Mrs. Ashe and Amy spent two or three days with them, while looking uptemporary quarters elsewhere; and so long as they stayed all seemed ahappy confusion of talking and embracing and exclaiming, anddistributing of gifts. After they went away things fell into theircustomary train, and a certain flatness became apparent. Everything hadhappened that could happen. The long-talked-of European journey wasover. Here was Katy at home again, months sooner than they expected; yetshe looked remarkably cheerful and content! Clover could not understandit; she was likewise puzzled to account for one or two privateconversations between Katy and papa in which she had not been invited totake part, and the occasional arrival of a letter from "foreign parts"about whose contents nothing was said.
"It seems a dreadful pity that you had to come so soon," she said oneday when they were alone in their bedroom. "It's delightful to have you,of course; but we had braced ourselves to do without you till October,and there are such lots of delightful things that you could have beendoing and seeing at this moment."
"Oh, yes, indeed," replied Katy, but not at all as if she wereparticularly disappointed.
"Katy Carr, I don't understand you," persisted Clover. "Why don't youfeel worse about it? Here you have lost five months of the mostsplendid time you ever had, and you don't seem to mind it a bit! Why,if I were in your place my heart would be perfectly broken. And youneedn't have come, either; that's the w
orst of it. It was just a whimof Polly's. Papa says Amy might have stayed as well as not. Why aren'tyou sorrier, Katy?"
"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps because I had so much as it was,--enough tolast all my life, I think, though I _should_ like to go again. You can'timagine what beautiful pictures are put away in my memory."
"I don't see that you had so awfully much," said the aggravated Clover;"you were there only a little more than six months,--for I don't countthe sea,--and ever so much of that time was taken up with nursing Amy.You can't have any pleasant pictures of _that_ part of it."
"Yes, I have, some."
"Well, I should really like to know what. There you were in a dark room,frightened to death and tired to death, with only Mrs. Ashe and the oldnurse to keep you company--Oh, yes, that brother was there part of thetime; I forgot him--"
Clover stopped short in sudden amazement. Katy was standing with herback toward her, smoothing her hair, but her face was reflected in theglass. At Clover's words a sudden deep flush had mounted in Katy'scheeks. Deeper and deeper it burned as she became conscious of Clover'sastonished gaze, till even the back of her neck was pink. Then, as ifshe could not bear it any longer, she put the brush down, turned, andfled out of the room; while Clover, looking after her, exclaimed in atone of sudden comical dismay,--
"What does it mean? Oh, dear me! is that what Katy is going to do next?"
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