Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 323: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

—_ — SS Se C+ Cl... 310 place. But I resolved in my own mind to combat as much as possible against any such feelings, and to resign myself to the course of events as it might be ordained by Providence that my destiny should be fulfilled. There were beautiful conservatories in the garden,—some having superb vines which produced grapes of an incredible size—and others being filled with choice plants and rare exotics— for although the Italian climate is in general respects so favourable to such productions, yet may they also be forced, as in more northern countries, to a degree of perfection proportionately greater than if left in their natural state. The Arno meandered through the immense vale to which if gives its name, and which was every- where dotted with buildings—chiefly neat villas and noble suburban residences—with the exception of the space occupied by the cemetery which I have already described. In the evening of the second day after my arri- val at the villa, the Count and Countess of Livorno arrived in their carriage to pass an hour with me; and I learnt two pieces of intelligence. The first was the Earl of Eccleston was still in Florence: the second was that Mr. Lanover had already begun to suffer very much from the effects of imprisonment, as he had been attacked with in- disposition. I was much alarmed on hearing this latter announcement; for I thought that if Mr. Lanover should die without making any revelation of past mysteries, one great chance of my ever being enabled to fathom them would be annihi- lated. The Count of Livorno however informed me that from all he had learnt there was nothing setious to be apprehended from the humpback’s illness; and his lordship promised to make frequent inquiries in a private and indirect manner relative to the progress of the malady. The Count and his amiable wife took their leave of me; and when they had departed, the villa for the first time appeared lonely even to gloominess. On the following day I roamed for hours about the grounds,—being unable to settle my mind to the perusal of the books which at any other period, and under any other circumstances, I shouid have so greedily studied. I experienced a nervous restlessness,—that kind of feeling which appears to be a presentiment of something un- pleasant about to happen. I felt assured that if circumstances rendered it expedient for me to remain for several weeks at my present abode, I should scarcely be enabled to make up my mind to such a necessity. That day passed: the Count of Livorno did not make his appearance; and I en- deavoured to persuade myself that Lanover must be better, on the strength of the old adage “ that no news are good news.” I was just sitting down to breakfast on the following morning at nine o’clock, when I per. ceived the Count of Livorno on horseback entering the grounds. I was at once smitten with the certainty that something had happened; and I hastened forth to meet him. He came unattended by any domestic of his own; and therefore the man-servant belonging to the villa hastened out to take charge of the horse. The Count did not choose to say a word before that domestic,—not knowing how far the man might be acquainted with other languages besides his own; and, there- fore, full of torturing suspense for me were the few JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. minutes that elapsed ere the Count and I were alone together in the breakfast-parlour. His lordship’s face wore a grave expression; and my apprehension was consequently strengthened to the effect that something very serious had occurred. Indeed the conviction was deep in my mind that Lanover had- ceased to exist. “ I see that you anticipate the intelligence that I have to impart,” said the Count of Livorno. “'Lanover expired during the past night — or rather, at an early hour this morning.” “Then all my hopes in that quarter are de- stroyed,” I said, with a profound mournfulness. “And yet perhaps,” I eagerly exclaimed, as a thought flashed in unto my brain, “ he may have repented in his last moments — he may have made some confession, or left some papers behind him ?” “No, my dear Wilmot,’ responded the Count of Livorno: “you cannot buoy yourself up with that hope. The governor of the prison, hom I had given certain private instructions, e to me about an hour back, and afforded me full par- ticulars of the humpback’s illness and death. As I had previously told you, he was seized with in- disposition the day before yesterday; and the prison-surgeon expressed his opinion that it was caused by the excitement of the trial and by the horror of a life-long incarceration. Yesterday Lanover appeared to get better; and from the in- telligence which I received, I was very far from apprehending a fatal result. But it appears that in the middle of last night, the turnkey who was ordered to enter his cell frequently, found him so much worse that he hastened to summon the sur- geon. lLanover sank rapidly—his last hours were spent in utter unconsciousness—and between four and five o’clock this morning he breathed his last.” “Do you think, my dear Count,” I inguired in horror and haste, as a sudden recollection arose in my mind, “that the wretched man could have perished by suicide ?” “ No—there is not the slightest ground for such a suspicion,” answered the Count of Livorno. “The surgeon declared that Lanover’s death had arisen from natural causes which were easily ex- plained. I know what was passing in your mind; but it does not appear that the Earl of Eccleston has revisited the prison since the evening when you observed him issuing thence.” The reader will remember that when I had en- tered the chymist’s shop after my interview with Dorchester and Lanover, I had again encountered the Earl of Eccleston; and on this occasion he was purchasing something which he hastily concealed about his person. I had mentioned the fact to the Count of Livorno, and it was to this circumstance that his lordship had just alluded. “There is now scarcely any reason,” I said, ina tone of deep dejection, “for me to remain at this villa P” “Does not Dorchester still live?” asked the Count : “and is he not evidently acquainted with something the revelation of which would be highly important to your interests? How know you to what extent he may have been initiated in Lan- over’s secrets P—or how can you estimate the value of any clue which Dorchester might afford you to the elucidation of all these mysteries in which the Earl of Eccleston is undoubtedly mixed up ?” EloOol< a a