The Spell Part 14

"But 'these people' represent only one portion of the Italians, Miss Thayer," replied Uncle Peabody. "Italian civic life contains two great contrasting factors--one practical, the other ideal. Each in its way is proud of the past; the first thinks more of the present and the future, while the second, opposed on principle to innovations, only accepts, and then under protest, those which come from Italian sources. This car we are riding in is of French manufacture. Were it Italian, you would find that it would have been greeted with smiles instead of scowls just now.

And yet I like their patriotism."

"But it does seem a sacrilege for the wonderful old towers and walls here in Florence to be torn down to make room for prosaic twentieth-century trolley-cars," Helen added.

"And Mr. Armstrong says there is talk of a board road being built for automobiles between Mestre and Venice. What will dear old Italy be when 'modern civilization' has finished with her?" Inez asked.

"From present tendencies," remarked Uncle Peabody, gravely, "I expect to live to see the day when the Venetian gondola will be propelled by gasolene; when the Leaning Tower of Pisa will either be straightened by some enterprising American engineer or made to lean a bit more, so that automobiles may make the ascent, even as the Colosseum at Rome is already turned over to Buffalo Bill or some other descendant of Barnum's circus for regular performances, including the pink lemonade and the peanuts."

"Don't!" Inez cried. "It would be far better to go to the other extreme, which Mr. Armstrong would like to see."

The road was level and smooth, now that the rough streets of the city lay behind them, and there was nothing to think of until after reaching Empoli. Armstrong had been running the machine, and he turned his head just in time to hear Inez' last remark.

"I can imagine what the conversation is, even though I have not heard much of it," he said, "and I am sure that I agree with Miss Thayer. How about getting back to our work at the library to-morrow?" he added.

Inez flushed at the suddenness of the question, and Helen caught her breath. The time for her decision, then, was near at hand.

"I am as eager as you are to resume it," replied Inez, her face lighting with pleasure.

"Then it is all arranged," Armstrong said, decisively. "Helen and Uncle Peabody may have the machine to-morrow, and we will start in again where we left off."

The Arno winds around and about in a hundred curves between Florence and Pisa, leaving the road for some little distance at times, but ever coming back to it in flirtatious manner. The fields stretch away between the river and the road in undulating green. Small hamlets like San Romano, La Rotta, and Navacchio, and the more pretentious settlements of Signa, Empoli, and Pontedera give variety to the ride and add by their old-time strangeness to the beauties which Nature so bountifully supplies. But the climax comes at the end of the journey, after crossing the tracks at the very modern station and the bridge which spans the Arno. Over the roofs of the quaint twelfth-century houses rise the Cathedral and the Leaning Tower and the pillared dome of the Baptistry.

The motor-car was halted in front of the little doorway of the Hotel Nettuno, where the host appeared with all his affability, offering opportunities for removing the dust acc.u.mulated by the ride, and a choice _colazione_ to be ready as soon as might be desired. Helen was preoccupied during the preparations for luncheon, but Inez' excitement over her first visit to Pisa, and Armstrong's eagerness to watch the effect of the early impressions, saved her changed demeanor from attracting any attention.

"It is hard to realize that this is the city of Ugolino and the Tower of Hunger after this sumptuous repast," remarked Jack, lighting his cigarette with much satisfaction as coffee was being served.

"Probably the 'Nettuno' was not in existence at that time," suggested Uncle Peabody.

"Is this not where the wonderful echo is to be heard?" inquired Inez.

"Yes--at the Baptistry," Armstrong replied; "and you are sure to enjoy it--the sacristan makes up such a funny face when he intones."

"The echo at Montecatini, I understand, is taking a long vacation,"

observed Uncle Peabody.

"How so?" inquired Inez, innocently.

"The regular echo was ill, and the sacristan failed to coach the new boy properly. The visitor called, 'What is the hour?' and the echo came back, 'Four o'clock'!"

Jack and Inez led the way from the hotel, through the narrow walled streets and under the gateway to the Piazza del Duomo, where all the splendor of the marvellous group of buildings burst upon them. Helen pleaded fatigue and asked to be left in the Duomo while the others set out to climb the Leaning Tower and to inspect the Campo Santo; so Uncle Peabody insisted on staying with her. They sat down on one of the wooden benches beneath the lamp of Galileo, and Helen rested her head upon her hand. Uncle Peabody watched her curiously for a moment. Finally he took her hand quietly in his. Helen started.

"I would do it if I were you, Helen," he said, deliberately.

"Do what?" she asked, surprised into confusion.

"Just what you were thinking of doing when I interrupted you."

"Do you know what I was thinking, then?"

"No." Uncle Peabody spoke in a very matter-of-fact way. "But I am sure it is the right thing to do."

Helen looked at him steadily, uncertain of just how far he had surmised her secret thought. There was nothing in the calm, unruffled expression which gave her even an inkling as to whether her peculiar sensation was caused by his intuition or her own self-consciousness. Then her gaze relaxed, and she laughed half-heartedly.

"You have mislaid your divining-cap this time," Helen said at length.

"If you had really read my mind your advice would have been quite different."

Uncle Peabody was undisturbed. "In that case you will exercise your woman's prerogative and change it within the next twenty-four hours.

When that has taken place you will find that my advice fits it exactly."

"I wish I had your confidence, Uncle Peabody." Helen rose suddenly and held out her hand to her companion. "Come, let us go into the sunlight, where things look more cheerful."

Uncle Peabody watched the figure militant as Helen preceded him down the broad aisle, past the small altars, and out into the air. He recalled this same att.i.tude when Helen had been a child, and he remembered the determination and the strength of will which went with it at that time. He had forgotten this characteristic in meeting his niece grown to womanhood and in the midst of such apparently congenial surroundings. Now he felt that he knew the occasion for its reappearance.

Inez and Jack soon joined them, and together they returned to the hotel.

A few moments later the car was gliding back toward Florence again, in the refres.h.i.+ng cool of the afternoon, with changed color effects to give new impressions to the panorama of the morning. They were almost home when Armstrong turned suddenly to Helen:

"How absolutely stupid of me!" he said, abruptly. "I met Phil Emory on the Lung' Arno yesterday and asked him to take dinner with us to-night."

Armstrong looked at his watch. "We shall be just about in time, anyhow, but I am sorry not to have told you about it."

X

When Helen Cartwright had accepted Phil Emory as escort for the Harvard Cla.s.s Day festivities, on the occasion of his graduation, every one had considered the matter of their engagement as settled; that is to say, every one except Helen and Emory. This view of the matter did not occur to Helen, even as a remote possibility, and Phil Emory had absolute knowledge to the contrary, since Helen herself had answered his question very clearly, even though not satisfactorily, some months before this event took place. But she liked him immensely none the less, and saw no reason why she should not throw confetti at him from the circus-like seats of the Stadium, or eat strawberries and ices with him and her other friends at the various Cla.s.s Day spreads. In fact, she saw every reason for doing so, inasmuch as she thoroughly enjoyed it; and Emory was proud enough to act as host under any conditions whatever.

After graduation Emory probably had as good a chance as any one until Jack Armstrong entered the field. The younger man had become more and more intense in his devotion, but when he found himself out-cla.s.sed by the force of Armstrong's attack he accepted his defeat generously and philosophically. No one contributed more to the jollity of the wedding breakfast or extended heartier congratulations to the bride and bridegroom.

Emory's visit at the Villa G.o.dilombra, when he first arrived in Italy, was one of the pleasantest experiences of his whole trip thus far. Never had he seen a more glorious spot, and never had he seen Helen so radiantly beautiful. He had remarked to Eustis more than once during their stay that an Italian background was the one thing needful to show off Helen's charms to the greatest perfection. When he returned to Florence, therefore, he determined to see her again, making his belated duty call the excuse; so the fortunate meeting with Armstrong and the invitation which resulted fitted in most agreeably with his plans.

The automobile pa.s.sed Emory in his _vettura_ half-way up the hill.

"Good-bye, old chap! Must hurry, as we have company coming for dinner!"

cried Armstrong, gayly, as the machine glided past him, giving him only a vision of waving hands before he became enveloped in the cloud of dust. When he arrived at the villa he found Helen and Jack awaiting him as if they had been at home all the afternoon.

"This is a pleasant surprise, Phil," said Helen, cordially. "Until Jack told me you were in Florence I supposed you and d.i.c.k Eustis had at least reached London by this time."

"No," Emory replied, as they walked into the garden; "I only went as far north as Paris. Eustis continued on to London, and is there now, I expect, but I ran across Ferdy De Peyster in Paris. He had a frightfully sick turn, and I had to take care of him for a while."

"Ferdy was sick, you say?" Helen was eagerly interested. "You don't mean dangerously so?"

"No--not as things turned out; but I will admit I was a bit anxious about him for a time. He had been terribly cut up over something, and then caught a beastly cold on his lungs, and I thought he was in for a severe case of pneumonia. He was pretty sandy about it, and in a week he came around all right. I took him over to Aix, where I left him, and then I decided to sail home from Naples instead of Southampton."

"Did he tell you what the trouble was?" Helen was anxious to know how confidential De Peyster had been.

"Oh, an _affaire de coeur_ he said; but he did not tell me who the girl was. He spoke of his call on you and Miss Thayer, here, shortly after we departed, but the poor chap was not very communicative."

"Forgive me for deserting you, Emory," interrupted Armstrong as he approached them from the house, closely followed by Annetta bearing a tray. "This is one part of the dinner which I never leave to any one else. These Italians know a lot of things better than we do, but mixing c.o.c.ktails is not one of their long suits."