Theresa Marchmont | Page 5

Hugh" said Lady Greville without attending to his question, "has
Margaret shewn you the descent to the walk below the cliffs, and have
you brought me the shells you promised to gather?"
"How? with the spring tide beating the foot of the rocks, and the sea
raging so furiously that the very gulls dared not take their delicious
perch upon the waves. Tomorrow perhaps--"
"What now, my Hugh, afraid to venture? When I walked on the sands
at noon, there was a bowshot spare."
"No! mother, no, not afraid, not afraid to venture a fall, or meet a
sprinkling of sea spray, and good truth I have enough to do with fears
in doors, here in this grim old mansion, without--"
"Fears?"--
"Yes, fears, dear mother," said the boy, looking archly round at his
attendant, who waited in the back ground, and who vainly sought by
signs to silence her unruly charge.
"Do you know that the figure of King Herod, cruel Herod, the murderer
of his wife, and the slayer of the innocents, stalks down every night

from the tapestry in my sleeping room and wanders through the
galleries at midnight; and than the cross, where the three Jews were
executed a long, long time ago, in the reign of King John I think; they
say that it drops blood on the morning of the Holy Friday;--and then
mother, and this is really true," continued the child, changing from his
playful manner to a tone of great earnestness, "there is the figure of a
lady in rich attire, but pale, very pale, who glides through the
apartments--yes; Herbert and Richard and several of the serving men
have seen it; and mistress Alice, poor old soul once was seen to address
it, but she would allow no one to question her on the subject; and they
say it was her doom, and that she must therefore die of her present
sickness. Ay: 'twas in this very room too--the lady's chamber."
"Boy," interrupted Lord Greville sternly, "if thou canst find no better
subject for thy prate, than these unbecoming fooleries, be silent--Helen!
why should you encourage his forwardness, and girlish love of
babbling? Go hence, sirrah! take thyself to rest; and you, Margaret,"
added he, turning angrily to the woman, "remember that from this hour
I hear no more insolent remarks, on any dwelling it may suit your
betters to inhabit, nor of this imp's cowardly apprehensions."
Margaret led her young charge from the room; who, however sad his
heart at being thus abruptly dismissed, walked proud and erect with all
the welling consciousness of wounded pride. Helen followed him to the
door with her eyes; and when they fell again upon her work, they were
too dim with tears to distinguish the colours of the flowers she was
weaving. Lord Greville had again relapsed into silent musing; and as
she occasionally stole a glance towards him, she perceived traces of a
severe mental struggle on his countenance; the muscles of his fine
throat worked convulsively, his lips quivered, yet still he spoke not. At
length his eyes closed, and he seemed as if seeking to lose his own
reflections in sleep.
"I will try the spell which drove the evil spirit from the mind of the
King of Israel," thought the sad and terrified wife; "music hath often
power to soothe the darkness of the soul;" and she tuned her lute, and
brought forth the softest of its tones. At length her charm was

successful; Lord Greville slept; and while she watched with all the
intense anxiety of alarmed affection, the unquiet slumbers which
distorted one of the finest countenances that sculptor or painter ever
conceived, she affected to occupy herself with her instrument lest he
should awake, and be displeased to find her attention fixed on himself.
With the sweetest notes of a "voice ever soft and low, an excelling
thing in woman," she murmured the following song, which was
recorded in her family to have been composed by her elder brother, on
parting from a lady to whom he was attached, previous to embarkment
on the expedition in which he fell, and to which it alludes:
Parte la nave Spiegan le vele Vento crudele Mi fa partir. Addio Teresa,
Teresa, addio! Piacendo a Dio Ti rivedrò. Non pianger bella, Non
pianger, No!-- Chè al mio ritorno Ti sposerò.
Il Capitano Mi chiama a bordo; Io faccio il sordo Per non partir! Addio
Teresa, Teresa, Addio! Piacendo a Dio Ti rivedrò. Non pianger bella,
Non pianger, No!-- Chè al mio ritorno Ti sposerò.
Vado a levante Vado a ponente Se trovo gente Ti scriverò. Addio
Teresa, Teresa, Addio; Piacendo a Dio Ti rivedrò. Non pianger bella,
Non pianger, No!-- Chè al mio ritorno Ti sposerò.
Helen had reached the concluding cadence