A Love Story Part 23

The insect and the reptile shall extend their wanderings over the smooth cheek, and revel on the lips, whose red once rivalled that of the Indian sh.e.l.l.

Moveless! moveless shall all be!

The long--long night wore on.

An Italian sunrise was gilding the heavens.

Acme was never to see a sunrise more; and even this reflection--trite as it may seem, occurring to one, who had watched through the night, by the side of the dead--even this reflection, convulsed again the haggard features of the mourner.

Delme had made the requisite arrangements during the night, for their early departure.

Just previous to the carriage being announced, he led George out of the room; whilst the physician, aided by the women, took such precautions as the heat of the climate rendered necessary.

Linen cloths, steeped in a solution of chlorate of lime, were closely wound round the body--a rude couch was placed in the inside of the carriage, which was supported by the two seats--and the carriage itself was darkened.

These preparations concluded--and having parted with Doctor Pormont---whose attentions, in spite of his freezing manner, had been very great--the brothers commenced their painful task.

George knelt at the head of the corpse--e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed one short fervent prayer--and then, a.s.sisted by his brother, bore it in his arms to the vehicle.

The Italian peasants, with rare delicacy, witnessed the scene from the windows of the inn, but did not intrude their presence.

The body was placed crosswise in the carriage. George sat next the corpse. Delme sat opposite, regarding his brother with anxious eye.

Most distressing was that silent journey! It made an impression on Sir Henry's mind, that no after events could ever efface; and yet it had already been his lot, to witness many scenes of horror, and ride over fields of blood.

We have said it was a silent journey. George's despair was too deep for words.

The first motion of the carriage affected the position of the corpse.

George put one arm round it, and kept it immoveable. Sometimes, his scalding tears would fall on that cold face, whose outline yet preserved its beautiful roundness.

It appeared to Sir Henry, that he had never seen life and death, so closely and painfully contrasted. There sat his brother, in the full energies of manhood and despair; his features convulsed--his frame quivering--his sobs frequent--his pulse quick and disturbed.

There lay extended his mistress--cold--colourless--silent--unimpa.s.sioned.

There was life in the breeze that played on her raven tresses--grim death was enthroned on the face those tresses swept.

Not that decay's finger had yet really a.s.sailed it; but one of the peculiar properties of the preservative used by Doctor Pormont, is its pervading sepulchral odour.

They reached Rome; and the consummation of their task drew nigh.

Pa.s.s we over the husband's last earthly farewell. Pa.s.s we over that subduing scene, in which Henry a.s.sisted George to sever long ringlets, and rob the cold finger, of affection's dearest pledge.

Alas! these might be retained as the legacy of love.

They were useless as love's memento. Memory, the faithful mirror, forbade the relic gatherer ever to forget!

Would you know where Acme reposes?

A beautiful burial ground looks towards Rome. It is on a gentle declivity leaning to the south-east, and situated between Mount Aventine and the Monte Testaccio.

Its avenue is lined with high bushes of marsh roses; and the cemetery itself, is divided into three rude and impressive terraces.

_There_ sleeps--in a modest nook, surmounted by the wall-flower, and by creeping ivy, and by many-coloured shrubs, and by one simple yellow flower, of very peculiar and rare fragrance; a type, as the author of these pages deemed, of the wonderful etherialised genius of the man--_there_ sleeps, as posterity will judge him, the first of the poets of the age we live in--Percy Bysshe Sh.e.l.ley! There too, moulders that wonderful boy author--John Keats.

Who can pa.s.s his grave, and read that bitter inscription, dictated on his deathbed, by the heart-broken enthusiast, without the liveliest emotion?

"Here lies one, whose name was writ in water.

February 4th, 1821."

The ancient wall of Rome, crowns the ridge of the slope we have described.

Above it, stands the pyramid of Caius Caestius, constructed some twenty centuries since.

Immediately beneath it, in a line with a round tower buried with ivy, and near the vault of our beautiful countrywoman, Miss Bathurst, who was thrown from her horse and drowned in the Tiber, may be seen a sarcophagus of rough granite, surmounted by a black marble slab.

Luxuriant with wild flowers, and studded even in the winter season, with daisies and violets, the sides of the tomb are now almost concealed. Over the slab, one rose tree gracefully droops.

When seen in the dew of the morning, when the cups of the roses are full, and crystal drops, distilling from leaves and flowers, are slowly trickling on the dark stone, you might think that inanimate nature was weeping for the doom of beauty.

Only one word is engraved on that slab. Should you visit Rome, and read it, recollect this story.

That word is--"Acme!"

Sir Henry and his brother remained at Rome nearly a month.

The former, with hopes that the exertion might be useful, in distracting George from the constant contemplation of his loss, plunged at once into the sight-seeing of "the eternal city."

Their days were busily pa.s.sed--in visiting the cla.s.sic sites of Rome and its neighbourhood--in wandering through the churches and convents--and loitering through the long galleries of the Vatican.

Delme, fearfully looking back on the scenes that had occurred in Malta, was apprehensive, that George's despair might lead to some violent outbreak of feeling; and that mind and body might sink simultaneously.

It was not so.

That heavy infliction appeared to bear with it a torpedo-like power. The first blow, abrupt and stunning, had paralysed. Afterwards, it seemed to carry with it a benumbing faculty, which repressed external display. We say _seemed_; for there were not wanting indications, even to Sir Henry's partial eye, that the wound had sunk very deep,

The mourner _might_ sink, although he did not writhe.

In the mornings, George, followed by Thompson, would find his way to the Protestant burial ground; and weep over the spot where his wife lay interred.

During the day, he was Sir Henry's constant and gentle companion; giving vent to no pa.s.sionate display, and uttering few unavailing complaints. Yet it was now, that a symptom of disease first showed itself, which Delme could not account for.

George would suddenly lean back, and complain of a spasm on the left side of the chest. This would occasionally, but rarely, affect the circulation.

George's sleep too, was disturbed, and he frequently had to rise from his bed, and pace the apartment; but this last circ.u.mstance, perhaps, was the mere result of anxiety of mind.

Sir Henry, without informing George, consulted a medical gentleman, who was well known to him, and who happened to be at Rome at the time, regarding these novel symptoms.

He was rea.s.sured by being informed, that these pains were probably of a neuralgic character, and not at all likely to proceed from any organic affection.

George Delme's mind was perfectly clear and collected; with the exception, that he would occasionally allude to his loss, in connection with some scene or subject of interest before them; and in a tone, and with language, that, appeared to his brother eccentric, but inexpressibly touching.