CHAPTER XXII.
A VISITOR.
The day after Cedric's disappearance the Count returned to the island. Theprospect before him had not by any means lightened. Britain, conquered,oppressed, protected, for nearly four hundred years, governed sometimesill and sometimes well, according to the varying characters of the Romanlegates, but never allowed to do anything for herself, was not ready at amoment's notice to be independent and stand alone. The Count was much tooshrewd a man to hope that she would. Still, even he had not realized howbad things would be; and when he came to see them face to face he feltsomething like disappointment, and even despair. A man will often make uphis mind to the general fact of failure, and yet be almost as much vexedat the details of failure, when it comes, as if he had expected success.
The fact was that the Count had found little or no disposition in thenative States to take up and carry on the work which he was beingcompelled to give up. They would make no sacrifices, or even efforts. Theyrefused to work together. Each reckoned on its own chance of escaping thecommon danger, and would not contribute to the defence that might possiblybe wanted for its neighbours, and not for itself. Then jealousies andenmities, hitherto kept in check by the strong hand of a master, began tobreak out. The cities seemed likely, not only not to combine against Pictsand Saxons, but actually to go to war among themselves. The Count felt allthe pain that comes to an honest and capable man when he has to face thebreaking up of a bad system which he has inherited from predecessors lesshigh principled than himself. It happens very often that revolutions comein the days, not of the worst offenders, but of the men who are makingsincere endeavours to do their duty. And so it was with the Count.
It was in a very gloomy and depressed condition of mind, therefore, thathe returned to the villa. And almost every day brought news of freshtroubles and disasters. Some of the Roman houses scattered through thecountry had been attacked and burnt of late. Since the central authorityhad been weakened the Roman residents had sometimes begun to behave in alawless and oppressive way to their British neighbours, and these weretaking their revenge with the cruelty that is always natural to theoppressed. Tragical tales of villas surrounded by infuriated crowds ofBritons, of masters and families shut up within the walls, and perishingin the fires that consumed them, were brought to the Count by the scaredsurvivors who had contrived to escape from the general destruction.
The Count's personal difficulties were considerable. He had a considerablecolony now settled near the villa, and many of its members were helplessand dependent people. The question of feeding them would soon become anurgent one. At present he could use the surplus stores which would nolonger be wanted now that his squadron had been so reduced in strength.And there was another question that pressed upon his mind--that of defence.Already he had had to contract his operations. With single pirate vessels,or even small squadrons of two or three, he would be able to deal, butanything stronger would have to be left alone. With the few ships thatwere left to him it would be madness to run any risk. And what, he couldnot help thinking, if the Saxons were to attack the villa itself? It hadbeen built as a pleasure residence, and though now fortified as far ascircumstances permitted, could not be held against a strong force. Shouldhe continue to occupy, or should he retire to the camp of the GreatHarbour, which would at least be a more defensible position?
It may easily be imagined that these anxieties, which had been troublinghis thoughts during the whole time of his absence, were not relieved whenhe heard the story of what had happened during his absence. He owed theSaxon more than he could ever repay, for he shuddered to think what wouldhave happened to Carna but for his strength and energy. And apart fromthis feeling of gratitude, he admired the man's splendid courage andtenacity. He had even come to rely upon him for services of unusualdifficulty and danger. And now, to think that he was lost to them by thestupid perversity and jealousy of a set of slaves!
The said slaves had a bad time with their master for some days after hisreturn. Good-humoured and kind as he was, yet he was a Roman--in otherwords, he had inherited the lordly temper of a race which had ruled theworld for five hundred years, and any contradiction that thwarted him inone of his serious convictions or purposes, broke through the veneer ofrefinement and culture that commonly concealed the sterner part of hisnature. A Christian master could not crucify an offender--indeed,crucifixion had been long since forbidden by the law--but he had almostunlimited power over life and limb. Life, indeed, the Count was tooconscientious a follower of his religion to touch, but he had no scrupleabout going to the very utmost verge of severity in the use of minorpunishments. As for his daughter, she was only too like her father to beany check on his anger, and for the first time in her life Carna found hermediation useless.
"Girl," he said to her on one occasion, when she had urged herintercession with tears, "you do not know what mischief these foolish,cowardly knaves have done. One thing I see plainly, that as soon as everthe Saxons know the weakness of the position we shall not be able to holdit any longer. There is nothing to hinder them from coming and burning thewhole place over our heads; nothing in the way of fortifications, andcertainly nothing in the way of garrison. They did not know all thisbefore, but they are sure to know it soon; and we shall see theconsequences before many months are over."
In the course of the summer occurred an incident which diverted theCount's attention for a time, though it did not lessen his perplexities.
One morning a small trading vessel entered the haven near the villa. Herbusiness, it was found, was to land a stranger, who had bargained for apassage to the island. The trader had come from a port of Western Gaul,and had then taken her passenger on board. Who he was the captain couldnot say, except that he had the appearance of a Roman gentleman. The dayafter they had set sail an illness, which had evidently been upon him whenhe came on board, had increased to such an extent that he had lostconsciousness. Two or three days of delirium had been succeeded by stupor;in this condition the unfortunate man still lay. But while still conscioushe had written down his destination, and added an appeal to the compassionof his future host. The Count read on the paper which the merchant captainhanded to him a few words written in a trembling hand. They ran asfollows:--
"_In case I should not be able to speak for myself, I invoke by thesewords the compassionate protection of the Count AElius. Let him not fear toreceive me, but believe that I am unfortunate rather than guilty, and thatthere is between us the tie of a great common affection._"
The Count did not recognize the stranger, though a dim impression ofhaving seen him before floated across his mind; and there was something inhis appearance which agreed with the trading captain's conviction that hewas a man of birth and position. In any case AElius was not one who wasinclined to resist such an appeal to his compassion. The stranger, stillunconscious, was landed, together with a few effects which were said tobelong to him, and at once handed over to the care of Carna. All herdiligence and watchfulness as a nurse, and all the skill of the oldphysician, were wanted before the patient could be brought back to life.For fourteen days he lay hovering on the very verge of death, mostly sunkin a stupor so complete that it was barely possible to perceive eitherpulse or breath; sometimes muttering in delirium a few broken sentences,of which all that physician and nurse were able to distinguish was thatthey were certainly Latin, and that they seemed to be verse.
It was on the morning of the fifteenth day that there came a change. Carnasat by the window of the sick man's room. It had a southern aspect, andthe sunshine came with a softened brilliance through the thick tintedglass, and brought out the exquisite tints of the girl's glossy hair, asshe sat bending over the embroidery with which she was employing hernimble, never-idle fingers.
"By heaven! another, fairer Proserpine!" said the sick man.
The girl turned her head at the sound of the clearly pronounced wordswhich her practised ear distinguished at once from the
strained or blurredutterances of delirium.
She held up her finger to her lips. "Do not speak," she said; "you havebeen very ill, and must not tire yourself."
"Lady," said the sick man, with a smile, "you must at least let me ask youwhere I am."
"Yes, you shall hear, if you will promise to ask no more questions, but tobe content with what you are told. You are with friends, in the island ofVectis, in the house of AElius, Count of the Saxon Shore. And now be quiet,and don't spoil all our pains in making yourself ill again."
She gave him a little broth which was being kept hot by the fire inreadiness for the time when he should recover consciousness; and afterthis had been disposed of, and she had found by feeling his pulse that hewas free from fever, a small quantity of well diluted wine.
"And now," she said, "you must sleep"--a command which he was ready enoughto obey.
After this his recovery was rapid. For a time, indeed, the cautious oldphysician, though he did not forbid conversation, prohibited any referenceto business. "You will want, of course," he said, "to tell your story, andto make your plans for the future; that will excite you, and, till you arestronger, may bring about a relapse. Be content for a while with theladies' company"--AElia, now that no nursing had to be done, was often withher foster-sister--"the Count will see you when I give permission."
And much talk the ladies had with him, and greatly astonished they were atthe variety and brilliance of his conversation. He seemed equally familiarwith books and men. He had read everything--so at least thought the twogirls, who were sufficiently well educated to recognize a full mind whenthey came across it--he had been everywhere, he had seen everybody. Henever boasted of his intimacy with great people, and indeed very seldommentioned a name, but his allusions showed that he was equally familiarwith courts and camps. It would have puzzled more experienced persons thanthe sisters to guess who this man of the world, who was also a man ofletters, could possibly be.
At the end of another week the physician removed his prohibition, and theCount, who had hitherto judged it better not to agitate his guest by hispresence, now paid a visit to his room.
After a few kindly inquiries as to his health, the Count went on,"Understand me, sir, that I have no wish to force any confidence from you.My good fortune gave me the chance of serving you, but it has not given methe right of asking you questions which you might not care to answer. Youare welcome to my hospitality as long as you choose to remain here, andyou may command my help when you wish to go. But of course, if you care togive me your confidence, it may make the help a great deal moreeffective."
"Yours is a true hospitality," answered the stranger, with a smile, "butit is right that you should know who I am, and how I came to be here; andI have only been waiting for the good Strabo's leave to tell you. But mayyour daughter and her sister be present? I have a sad story to relate, butthere is nothing in it which is unfit for them to hear, and they have beengood enough to show some interest in an unhappy man."
"They shall come, if you wish it," said the Count, "indeed they have beenalmost dying of curiosity."
It was to this audience that the stranger told his story.