And yet, because I love thee, I obtain From that same love this vindicating grace, To live on still in love, and yet in vain, To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face.E.B.Browning.
Much has been said and written about the monotony of unalloyed pleasure, and the necessity of shadows and dark places in life as well as in pictured landscape.And certainly there can be but few in this world of stern realities who would dispute the fact that pleasure is doubled by its contrast with preceding pain.Perhaps it was the vividness of this contrast that made Raeburn and Erica enjoy, with a perfect rapture of enjoyment, a beautiful view and a beautiful spring day in Italy.Behind them lay a very sombre past;they had escaped for a brief moment from the atmosphere of strife, from the world of controversy, from the scorching breath of slander, from the baleful influences of persecution and injustice.
Before them lay the fairest of all the cities of Italy.They were sitting in the Boboli gardens, and from wooded heights looked down upon that loveliest of Italian valleys.
The silver Arno wound its way between the green encircling hills;then between the old houses of Florence, its waters spanned now by a light suspension bridge token of modern times now by old brown arches strengthened and restored, now by the most venerable looking of all the bridges, the Ponte Vecchio, with its double row of little shops.Into the cloudless blue sky rose the pinnacles of Santa Croce, the domes of San Spirito, of the Baptistery, of the Cathedral; sharply defined in the clear atmosphere were the airy, light Campanile of Giotto, the more slender brown tower of the Palazzo Vecchio, the spire of Santa Maria Novella.Northward beyond the city rose the heights of Fiesole, and to the east the green hills dotted all over with white houses, swept away into the unseen distance.
Raeburn had been selected as the English delegate to attend a certain political gathering held that year at Florence.He had at first hesitated to accept the post for his work at home had enormously increased; but the long months of wearing anxiety had so told upon him that his friends had at length persuaded him to go, fully aware that the only chance of inducing him to take any rest was to get him out of the region of work.
The "Miracles" trial was at length over, but Mr.Pogson had not obtained the desire of his heart, namely, the imprisonment and fining of Luke Raeburn.The only results of the trial were the extensive advertisement of the pamphlet in question, a great increase of bitterness on each side, and a great waste of money.
Erica's sole consolation lay in the fact that a few of the more liberal thinkers were beginning to see the evil and to agitate for a repeal of the Blasphemy Laws.As for the action for libel, there was no chance of its coming on before June, and in the meantime Mr.
Pogson's letter was obtaining a wider circulation, and perhaps, on the whole, Luke Raeburn was just at that time the best-abused man in all England.
There had been a long silence between the father and daughter who understood each other far too well to need many words at such a time; but at length a sudden ejaculation from Raeburn made Erica turn her eye from Fiesole to the shady walk in the garden down which he was looking.
"Does any Italian walk at such a pace?" he exclaimed."That must surely be Brian Osmond or his double in the shape of an English tourist.""Oh, impossible!" said Erica, coloring a little and looking intently at the pedestrian who was still at some little distance.
"But it is," said Raeburn "height, way of walking, everything! My dear Eric, don't tell me I can't recognize the man who saved my life.I should know him a mile off!""What can have brought him here?" said Erica, a certain joyous tumult in her heart checked by the dread of evil tidings a dread which was but natural to one who had lived her life.
"Come and meet him," said Raeburn."Ha, Brian, I recognized you ever so far off, and couldn't persuade this child of your identity."Brian, a little flushed with quick walking, looked into Erica's face searchingly, and was satisfied with what he read there satisfied with the soft glow of color that came to her cheeks, and with the bright look of happiness that came into her eyes which, as a rule, were grave, and when in repose even sad in expression.
"I owe this to a most considerate patient who thought fit to be taken ill at Genoa and to telegraph for me," he said in explanation; "and being in Italy, I thought I might as well take my yearly outing now.""Capital idea!" said Raeburn."You are the very man we wanted.
What with the meetings and interviews, I don't get much peace even here, and Erica is much in need of an escort sometimes.How did you find us?""They told me at the hotel that I should probably find you here, though, if I had known what a wilderness of a place it is I should have been rather hopeless."Erica left most of the talking to her father; just then she felt no wish to put a single thought into words.She wanted only to enjoy the blissful dream-like happiness which was so new, and rare, and wonderful that it brought with it the feeling that any very definite thought or word must bring it to an end.Perfect harmony with your surroundings.Yes, that was indeed a very true definition of happiness; and of late the surroundings had been so grim and stormy.She seemed to tread upon air as they roamed about the lovely walks.The long, green vistas were to her a veritable paradise.Her father looked so happy, too, and had so entirely shaken off his cares, and Brian, who was usually rather silent, seemed today a perfect fountain of talk.
