CHAPTER II.

_In Which Lord Montfort Contrives That Miss Temple Should be

Left Alone_.

AND how do you like my friend, Henrietta?’ said Mr. Temple, as they

drove home.

‘I like your friend much, papa. He is quite as quiet as you said; he is

almost the only person I have seen since I quitted England who has not

jarred my nerves. I felt quite sorry that I had so long prevented you

both from cultivating each other’s acquaintance. He does not interfere

with me in the least.’

‘I wish I had asked him to look in upon us in the evening,’ said Mr.

Temple, rather enquiringly.

‘Not to-day,’ said Henrietta. ‘Another day, dearest papa.’

The next day Lord Montfort sent a note to Mr. Temple, to enquire after

his daughter, and to impress upon him the importance of her eating

his grapes. His servant left a basket. The rest of the note was about

cinerary urns. Mr. Temple, while he thanked him, assured him of the

pleasure it would give both his daughter and himself to see him in the

evening.

This was the first invitation to his house that Mr. Temple had ventured

to give him, though they had now known each other some time.

In the evening Lord Montfort appeared. Henrietta was lying on her sofa,

and her father would not let her rise. Lord Montfort had brought Mr.

Temple some English journals, which he had received from Leghorn.

The gentlemen talked a little on foreign politics; and discussed the

character of several of the most celebrated foreign ministers. Lord

Montfort gave an account of his visit to Prince Esterhazy. Henrietta

was amused. German politics and society led to German literature. Lord

Montfort, on this subject, seemed completely informed. Henrietta could

not refrain from joining in a conversation for which she was fully

qualified. She happened to deplore her want of books. Lord Montfort

had a library; but it was at Rome: no matter; it seemed that he thought

nothing of sending to Rome. He made a note very quietly of some books

that Henrietta expressed a wish to see, and begged that Mr. Temple would

send the memorandum to his servant.

‘But surely to-morrow will do,’ said Mr. Temple. ‘Rome is too far to

send to this evening.’

‘That is an additional reason for instant departure,’ said his lordship

calmly.

Mr. Temple summoned a servant.

‘Send this note to my house,’ said his lordship. ‘My courier will bring

us the books in four days,’ he added, turning to Miss Temple. ‘I am

sorry you should have to wait, but at Pisa I really have nothing.’

From this day Lord Montfort passed every evening at Mr. Temple’s house.

His arrival never disturbed Miss Temple; she remained on the sofa. If

she spoke to him he was always ready to converse with her, yet he never

obtruded his society. He seemed perfectly contented with the company of

her father. Yet with all this calmness and reserve, there was no air

of affected indifference, no intolerable nonchalance; he was always

attentive, always considerate, often kind. However apparently engaged

with her father, it seemed that his vigilance anticipated all her wants.

If she moved, he was at her side; if she required anything, it would

appear that he read her thoughts, for it was always offered. She found

her sofa arranged as if by magic. And if a shawl were for a moment

missing, Lord Montfort always knew where it had been placed. In the

meantime, every morning brought something for the amusement of Mr.

Temple and his daughter; books, prints, drawings, newspapers, journals

of all countries, and caricatures from Paris and London, were mingled

with engravings of Henrietta’s favourite Campo Santo.

One evening Mr. Temple and his guest were speaking of a celebrated

Professor of the University. Lord Montfort described his extraordinary

acquirements and discoveries, and his rare simplicity. He was one of

those eccentric geniuses that are sometimes found in decayed cities

with ancient institutions of learning. Henrietta was interested in his

description. Almost without thought she expressed a wish to see him.

‘He shall come to-morrow,’ said Lord Montfort, ‘if you please. Believe

me,’ he added, in a tone of great kindness, ‘that if you could prevail

upon yourself to cultivate Italian society a little, it would repay

you.’

The professor was brought. Miss Temple was much entertained. In a few

days he came again, and introduced a friend scarcely less distinguished.

The society was so easy, that even Henrietta found it no burthen. She

remained upon her sofa; the gentlemen drank their coffee and conversed.

One morning Lord Montfort had prevailed upon her to visit the studio

of a celebrated sculptor. The artist was full of enthusiasm for his

pursuit, and showed them with pride his great work, a Diana that might

have made one envy Endymion. The sculptor declared it was the perfect

resemblance of Miss Temple, and appealed to her father. Mr. Temple could

not deny the striking likeness. Miss Temple smiled; she looked almost

herself again; even the reserved Lord Montfort was in raptures.

‘Oh! it is very like,’ said his lordship. ‘Yes! now it is exactly like.

Miss Temple does not often smile; but now one would believe she really

was the model.’

They were bidding the sculptor farewell.

‘Do you like him?’ whispered Lord Montfort of Miss Temple.

‘Extremely; he is full of ideas.’

‘Shall I ask him to come to you this evening?’

‘Yes, do!’

And so it turned out that in time Henrietta found herself the centre of

a little circle of eminent and accomplished men. Her health improved

as she brooded less over her sorrows. It gratified her to witness

the pleasure of her father. She was not always on her sofa now. Lord

Montfort had sent her an English chair, which suited her delightfully.

They even began to take drives with him in the country an hour or so

before sunset. The country around Pisa is rich as well as picturesque;

and their companion always contrived that there should be an object in

their brief excursions. He spoke, too, the dialect of the country; and

they paid, under his auspices, a visit to a Tuscan farmer. All this was

agreeable; even Henrietta was persuaded that it was better than staying

at home. The variety of pleasing objects diverted her mind in spite of

herself. She had some duties to perform in this world yet remaining.

There was her father: her father who had been so devoted to her, who had

never uttered a single reproach to her for all her faults and follies,

and who, in her hour of tribulation, had clung to her with such

fidelity. Was it not some source of satisfaction to see him again

comparatively happy? How selfish for her to mar this graceful and

innocent enjoyment! She exerted herself to contribute to the amusement

of her father and his kind friend, as well as to share it. The colour

returned a little to her cheek; sometimes she burst for a moment into

something like her old gaiety; and though these ebullitions were often

followed by a gloom and moodiness, against which she found it in vain to

contend, still, on the whole, the change for the better was decided, and

Mr. Temple yet hoped that in time his sight might again be blessed and

his life illustrated by his own brilliant Henrietta.