The Mind of Italy [pp. 9-11]

187O.] LITERATURE, SCIENOE AND ART 9
him imagine, for the shadow of a second, that twenty codicils could
make any difference in my love. Not that there was any danger of his
imagining it, however. The ridiculous aspect of the affair seemed to
make more impression upon him than any other. To think how he was
planning for Pamela so benevolently, when all the while Pam was mistress of every thing, and he absolutely disinherited! He laughed until
the tears rolled down his cheeks, and I was fain to join him from the
sheer force of example.
The night wore away rapidly under this new excitement. The need
of sleep was forgotten, and, before we thought of it, the morning twilight was glimmering through the unshuttered windows.
"Daybreak, actually!" Chi exclaimed, the first to spy the dawn.
"And Christmas Day, too-nierry Christmas, Marjorie!"
"Merry Christmas!" I responded-" if it isn't adding insult to injury, Chi. To lose a fortune, and get a little simpleton for a wife-"
"One needs to be strong-minded to be jolly in such circumstances,"
,he interrupted, finishing my sentence in his own way. "I say, Marjorie, hadn't I better fall in love with Pam now?"
"She wouldn't look at you," I said, securely. "She has her fortune, and she will soon have her artist. You'll have to content yourself
with me."
"She's welcome to her artist-God bless him!-and her fortune,
too," he cried, merrily. "I have my little Marjorie, and all the world
has not her equal-for me."
The sunshine was brilliant on the new-fallen snow when we galloped
homeward. Jerusha had given us a bewitching little breakfast, and
~Chi, in spite of his disinheritance, had made her happy with two shining
gold-pieces, by way of Christmas-box for herself and Josephus. We
had all been up to inspect the garret by daylight, and Chi had satisfied
himself about the secret drawer, the exact position of which he ex~plained to me elaborately on our way home, though I cared very little
about it, if it must be confessed. I was thinking far more of him, and
the new world of love and happiness opening before me, than of Uncle
Chichester and his secret drawers, his wills and codicils. We were rich
enough without Beverly, and Pam was welcome to all the benefit of our
discovery, for me.
Bushrod spied us in the distance, and rushed to open the upper gate.
"De folks dun got home, Mas' Chi, an' missis, she feel drefful'stressed
"bout Miss Ylargy; t'ought she got lost in de snow; jes gwine to sen'
Uncle Sim to look arter her."
" Get out of my way, Bush; I'll make Polly ride over you, you little
humbug "-and I galloped on to ascertain for myself the reality of Mirs.
Fanshaw's distress. Darlie's red frock was vivid against the snow, as
we rode up to the piazza. She stood there with her mother; but Josephine and Pamela had disappeared.
"My dear Marjorie," Mrs. Fanshaw began, before I had fairly dismounted, "I have been exceedingly anxious about you, and Chi, too.
What is the meaning of all this?"
"My dear mother"-Chi lifted me from the saddle, and carried
me bodily to Mrs. Fanshaw-" allow me to present my little wife to
you."
There was an outcry, of course; but mny aunt kissed me with a good
grace. I don't think at heart she was very much astonished. Darlie
clapped her hands.
"Oh, Chi! I wonder who needs a little wholesome discipline now?
I'm sorry for Pam, though."
"You needn't be. Pam's got the best of the bargain."
"I wonder how? Marjorie's got you, at any rate."
In spite of their frequent sparring, Darlie evidently thought me a
lucky person to get her brother-a piece of good sense for which I forgave her many imipertinences.
"Marjorie has got me; but Pam has got Beverly," he said; and
I)arlie's eyes grew luminous with sudden curiosity and wonder. But
she never suffered herself to be taken by surprise.
"Beverly, indeed! Marjorie wouldn't swap, I'll bet," she answered,
cool and superior as ever. And Chi was too amused to find fault with
her "jargon." As for me, I kissed her promptly, astonishing her more
by that act than Chi had done by his information.
"What is it all about?" Mrs. Fanshaw asked, bewildered. And at
that crisis Josephine and Pamela, just discovering our arrival, came running down-stairs to greet and scold and laugh at us, and ask fifty questions, all in a breath. Chi was tempted to run away; but he stood it
bravely, and, after a while, we all subsided into the parlor and a reasonable state of quietude, and, Chi being spokesman, the story of the midnight alarm-the cat and the ghost, the will and the codicil-was duly
related. There was plenty of comment and outcry, of course-was
ever a will in the world that satisfied everybody? Passing by that, it
was pretty to see Pamela's generous indignation.
"If I could have dreamed of such a thing, Chi-surely, you'll believe me-I would never have gone to make that visit, or I would have
made myself so cross and disagreeable, that that codicil would never
have been written. It won't stand, though; I'll tear it off as soon as I
get hold of the stupid paper, and you'll have your own, Chi, all the
samne. "
"You can't do it, you silly little Pam," he laughed. " It would be
a legal misdemeanor."
"As if I cared for that! I'll do something, at any rate. Chi, what
nonsense!" She turned to him, with her blue eyes sparkling, her face
in a glow. "Do you think so meanly of me as to imagine that I would
keep all that property? Would you do it yourself? You know you
never would, and it's hateful of you to think such things of me. I don't
care."
With which irrelevant conclusion she burst into tears.
Chi put his arms around her, and kissed her tenderly; but I was not
jealous, not in the very least. Josephine came in with something sensible, as usual. There was a very practical vein in the Fanshaw
family.
"Why don't you stick to the old agreement? Let Chi have the
house, and Pam the money, and Marjorie the family portraits, just as
you planned it all before the will turned up. What's the use of crying, Pam? It's late in the day to be grieving for Uncle Chichester."
Her droll tone provoked a burst of laughter; Pam giggled hysteri
cally through her tears.
"I wish Uncle Chichester had been asleep!" she exclaimed. "It's
just what I want-to make an equal division; but Chi is so disagreeable."
"Did he refuse to take his share?" Josephine asked, dryly. "1
haven't heard him."
And Pam seized Chi's hands tragically. "Will you?" she cried, her
dewy blue eyes appealing to his, her sweet mouth in dangerous proximity. "Now, Chi, you know how happy I mean to be one of these
days "-the loveliest color flashing over her face-" don't spoil it all by
being obstinate and disobliging."
If I had not perfectly understood her meaning, it might have been a
trial-even then-to see Clhi take the kiss which those rosy lips invited
so unconsciously. How could he help it, when they were so near him,
and so exceedingly pretty? But it was no treachery to me, or the faraway artist either, to whom Pain's little heart turned with steadfast devotion; and it was the simplest way of signifying his consent to her
wish-something not so easy for Chi to do, for, as he had said of Pam,
he was both proud and delicate, and, to accept such a gift from her,
even though so clearly his right, cost him an effort.
It was all settled, however, by that kiss, and afterward in due form
by solemn legal procedure. The estate was halved, not thirded, Chi
and I bnly counting one. The next Christmas Day found us domiciled
at Beverly, where no midnight alarms troubled me again, and the ghost
of Uncle Chichester did not haunt us, in spite of the codicil.
Pamela is abroad still, as happy as the sunny skies of Italy and the
fulfilment of all her sweetest dreams ought to make her. One of the
loveliest landscapes that graced the opening of the new Academy bore
her hlusband's name, and Chi and Marjorie made a special pilgrimage to
New York to see it.
THE MIND OF ITALY.
MrLAN, September, 1869.
T may have been a childish notion, but I certainly expected to see
quite a different state of things here, when I same over the lovely
Lake Maggiore, by vineyards, towers, and villas, of such romantic
beauty, and last Friday set my foot for the first time in Italy. The
people, indeed, are a marked race, and are, on the whole, as handsome
as the Swiss are plain. Many, both of the men and women, have large
and noble features, as if the history of great thoughts and purposes
and deeds spoke from their lips and looked out of their eyes. The
nose is, in many respects, an important organ, and literally as well as
metaphorically tells what is within; and Milan is full of famous
noses-some of them so prominent as to admit of abridgment, while
many of them might furnish a sculptor with models of the classic
proportions such as combine grace with strength, calmness with
power. The beauty of the women is certainly remarkable, and quite
as common to the lower as to the higher class. I have seen a girl
washing clothes in the lake, and a stately lady walking with her stylish
veil along the Corso Victor Emmanuel, each of whom would eclipse the
fifty beauties that King Louis of Bavaria has transferred to his portrait-gallery as paragons of their sex.
The people look somewhat as I anticipated, but there the resemblance ends. This is not joyous, sunny Italy in its social temper, nor
is it the devout, emotional, ecclesiastical Italy of history and romance.
The Milanese are far more sedate than the Germans, or even than the
Swiss, and there is little sign of gayety or pleasure in the streets and
gardens. They have, it is true, one of the largest theatres in the world.
1870.]
TLITE-RA TURE, SCIE~CE, AN:D A-RT
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