Heimatlos Part 12

In a short time they were walking back to the garden, where they parted for the night. On the way to the hotel Rico thought of the kingdom and the power. He felt convinced that he had neglected a sacred duty, and that night, in his cheerless attic room, he knelt by his bed and prayed.

Stineli meant to go in as soon as Rico left her, and tell Mrs.

Menotti of his unhappiness, hoping that she might help the boy to find some more suitable employment, since he so disliked playing for dances, but this intention was not carried out, for Silvio had been taken suddenly ill while she was gone, and was lying exhausted on his pillow, flushed and breathing heavily. The mother sat crying softly beside him. Stineli had never seen him ill before, and she stood wondering what she should do.

Mrs. Menotti soon noticed her presence and said: "Sit down, Stineli; he is better now, and I should like to tell you about something that troubles me greatly. You are young, but I feel sure it will do me good to have you know about it.

"When Mr. Menotti and I were first married, he brought me here from Riva, where my father is still living. An old friend of my husband's lived here, but he wished to go away for a few years, because his wife had died and he found it too hard to live here without her; he wanted us to live on his place while he was away. He had a little house and a large farm of not especially good land, but since Mr. Menotti understood perfectly how to manage a farm, it was agreed between them, as intimate friends, that there was to be no rent; we were simply to keep everything in good condition so that he would find his place in order when he returned.

"A few years later the railway officials decided to build on the land, and paid much more than it was worth to get it. Mr. Menotti took the money, and being able to buy much better land, including this garden, he built this house. There was money enough to pay for it all. The land brought rich returns, and we prospered to such an extent that I was worried, for it did not belong to us. Mr. Menotti was happy over it because he had such a pleasant surprise for his friend, to whom he meant to turn it all over as soon as he returned; but he never came.

"As Silvio grew older, and I saw how weak he was, I feared that his illness might be sent as a punishment to us for living upon the profits of another's money, and I have felt the same to-night. Mr.

Menotti died four years ago. I am sure I would gladly give things over to the rightful owner, if I could, but I don't know where to find him.

The man may be sick somewhere, or in need, and it worries me beyond measure."

"I think you have no reason to worry, since you have done the best you could," said Stineli. "My grandmother taught me to ask G.o.d to make things right, if it was beyond my own power.

"_I_ am worried about Rico," Stineli continued, "and I can do nothing for him, so I have asked G.o.d to help him, and Rico has promised that he will do his part. I feel sure that this burden can be lifted from you in the same way, if you will only ask Him to make it right in His sight. My grandmother has taught me that we are all governed in harmony by the Creator so long as we seek the divine will. It is like a great chorus in which every member sings in tune because he is governed by the harmony of music, and so I always try to put myself back where I belong, when I feel any discord. I have never been disappointed in trusting G.o.d with the results."

"You are a wise girl, Stineli, and you have truly comforted me," said Mrs. Menotti, as she kissed Stineli and bade her good night.

CHAPTER XX

AT HOME

A glorious day dawned upon Peschiera the next morning, and Mrs.

Menotti hurried to the garden to enjoy it more fully. She took her accustomed seat on a rustic bench near the gate and looked about her with appreciative eyes. The oleander bushes were in full bloom beside her, behind her was the hedge to screen the garden from the street, and yonder were the loaded fig trees, while near by were the grapevines, dotted with cl.u.s.ters of ripe fruit.

"I realize," she said to herself, "that I shall never find so pretty a home again."

Just at this moment Rico opened the gate. He had not been able to let the beautiful morning pa.s.s without seeing his friends, as he was obliged to go to Riva a little later. He had not noticed Mrs. Menotti, and was going directly to the house when she called to him.

"I want you to sit here with me for a few moments, Rico, if you will.

What a fine day this promises to be! I have just been wondering how long I may still be here to enjoy it."

"You alarm me, Mrs. Menotti. You are not thinking of going away?"

"I beg your pardon, Rico, for speaking so thoughtlessly; I should not have mentioned it." She changed the subject, and presently, recalling what Stineli had told her the previous evening about Rico's trouble, she began to wonder what it could be. She had been so absorbed in her own affairs at the time that she had given it but a moment's thought.

"Won't you tell me, Rico, why you came to Lake Garda? Stineli told me last evening that you used to long to come here. Were you ever here before?"

"Yes, when I was a child, but I was taken away."

"How did you happen to come here as a child?"

"I came into the world here."

"You were born here? Who was your father, and why did he come here from the mountains?"

"He wasn't from the mountains; it was my mother who lived there."

"Why, Rico, your father was not a Peschieran?"

"He surely was, Mrs. Menotti; this was his home."

"How very strange! And you never have told me this in all these years!

Feeling that you did not care to talk of your earlier life, I have never asked you to tell me your last name. But 'Rico' is not Italian.

What was your father called?"

"The same as I, Enrico Trevillo."

Mrs. Menotti sprang from the seat as if she had been struck. "What are you saying?" she exclaimed. "What did you say just now?"

"My father's name," said Rico. "Why, what is the matter?"

Mrs. Menotti did not stay to answer him. She ran to the house and hastily said to Stineli: "Get me a wrap, please. I must go over to see the pastor, but I will be back soon and explain."

Stineli, much astonished, put a cape around the trembling form.

"Come with me, Rico, for I want to ask a few questions," said Mrs.

Menotti, but she was so agitated that she could think of nothing to ask except if he were sure that Enrico Trevillo was his father. Rico returned to the house after leaving Mrs. Menotti with the pastor.

Stineli and Silvio were laughing over a funny story when he arrived.

As soon as Silvio saw the violin he shouted, "Let us sing 'Little Lambs' with Stineli, because Rico is here to play."

Rico had learned a great number of new songs, so that Stineli had nearly forgotten all about "her song." She had not heard it since they sang it for the grandmother the evening they had composed it. It astonished her to find that Silvio knew anything about it. How was she to know that Rico had been singing that song time after time, before he knew any others?

She gladly consented to sing it with Rico. To her great surprise Silvio began singing with them. To be sure, he did not know the meaning of a word he was saying, but he remembered the sounds from having heard them so often. He gave the words such a funny p.r.o.nunciation that Stineli had to laugh. Silvio laughed because she laughed; then Rico could not help laughing, and so the song waited.

They began again time after time, only to stop as before, and when Mrs. Menotti returned, she found them all still laughing and trying to sing.

She had been making a strong effort to adjust herself to the new order of things which the eventful morning had brought about. She crossed the garden hastily and came in where the children were. The laughter hushed as she sank exhausted into a chair, and they gazed at her in astonishment.

"Rico," she said, as soon as she had gathered a little composure, "I have just found out from the pastor that this home--the house, garden, farm, and everything--is yours. It is your inheritance from your father and belongs to you. Your name is recorded in the baptismal record of the church; you are the son of Enrico Trevillo, who was my husband's most intimate friend."

Stineli had almost from the first grasped the meaning of it all, and it gave her an unspeakable happiness. Her face was radiant, and Mrs.

Menotti thought, "How beautiful the girl looks!"

Rico sat staring at the mother, speechless and bewildered. Silvio shouted, "All of a sudden the house belongs to Rico; where shall he sleep?"

"Where, Silvio?" repeated the mother. "In all the rooms, if he chooses. He can turn us out on the street at once if he likes."

"Then I should certainly go out on the street with you," said Rico.

"Oh, you good Rico! We will gladly stay if it will give you pleasure.

I was thinking on the way home of how we could arrange it if you should wish to have us here. I could buy a half interest in the place, and then one half would belong to you and one half to Silvio."