17

CHAPTER II.

Though for myself alone

I would not be ambitious in my wish

To wish myself much better; yet for you

I would be trebled twenty times myself,

A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich."

OUT on the broad lagoon rests the fairest of fair islands, scarce large enough for all the wealth of trees and shrubs and flowers, free from all hedge and barrier, and boasting but two buildings. The one is a long roomy shed, wherein the good Swiss cows find warmth and shelter; the other is an old weather-beaten dwelling of doubtful aspect, fortress, convent, or fishermen's haunt, still looking askance over the green with an ancient air of mystery, though holding nothing stranger than Hugo Deane and his family. Mr Deane liked the old house partly for its appearance of distinction, partly because it was cheap and he could not bear

B

to be harassed by daily questions of expense, and partly because he thought it necessary to be close to Venice. He might any day have to consult the archives for the furtherance of his great work. It had been long known to several literary persons that Mr Deane was at work on a history of Venice

-a comprehensive history beginning with the first flight of fugitives who settled like sea-birds on the water, and ending with the final departure of the Austrian band from the Piazza di San Marco. Such a history political social and artistic would doubtless occupy a considerable period in the making. Meanwhile Mr Deane worked in a delightful room into which the sun could be admitted at any hour of the day. There he might sit and let his eyes rest on the long leaves of oleander and on brighter bay; on the fair waters beyond ever changing and ever beautiful; and far away on the Campanile of San Giorgio, which rising slender into the diviner air might likewise raise heavenward the author's thoughts. But Hugo Deane was not only a maker of history. He was himself a man with a history, as women were apt to guess; and the facts therein recorded were safe from the attacks of the most learned and truculent critic. He went for them to his own memory,

and not to dusty parchments. He had lived and loved; and was now writing history. The chief events of his past life may be quickly enumerated. He was the only son of poor but fashionable parents, and second cousin of the late Lord Cheepyre, who moreover had been always on the best of terms with the Deane family. At school the young Hugo had been in no way remarkable. He appeared to his companions a quiet, gentlemanlike fellow: he valued himself a little on his superior refinement. At Oxford he learned to value himself more highly on his judgment and taste. He could not conceal from himself that he was more quickly intelligent than his fellows, more keenly sensitive to elegance. He picked up a great many books of all sorts, perceived the tendency of each, and classified them readily. At this period of his life he wrote a good deal of verse, which never offended against good taste, and which he rarely could be induced to show. He cultivated sentiment up to a certain point; indeed he cultivated all his powers, but no one in excess. An elderly politician whom he met at his father's house only expressed the general belief when he, as it were, pigeon-holed young Deane as a remarkably well-informed young man. So judicious a youth was bound to make a

He thought

mark in the world; the only question was as to the particular nature of the mark. that he should probably be something out of the common; and when he was abruptly called upon to choose a career, he shrank from so commonplace a proceeding. All the other young men about him were choosing careers. He was sure that there ought to be a difference. He felt a distaste for the trickery of diplomacy and the clumsiness of blue-books. Besides he saw clearly that as a diplomatist he would be hampered by insufficient money. The same vulgar insufficiency would hinder him as a politician; besides English politics were distressingly insular and far less interesting than Continental. He preferred the scientific examination of the International Society, the Papal Policy, the Neo-Catholic, the Neo-Pagan, the Panslavist, the Panteuton, the Panmelast. He turned coldly too from the noisy struggle of lawyers; still more coldly from the eager competition of the city. He was aware that his mechanism was too unusually fine for the calculation of profit and loss. Indeed he preserved through life a peculiar dislike of business, and felt himself lowered for some time after looking at his private account. Hence, though

he always shrank from extravagance, his affairs were always a little confused. He was somewhat vexed by his indulgent parents' suggestion of divers occupations which seemed to them fitting, and so took leave of them for a while, and went abroad with the vague expectation of further cultivation. Once in foreign parts, he fully justified his course in his parents' eyes by wooing and winning an English girl young beautiful, and with

fair claim to be considered an heiress. He loved her with as much love as so well-balanced a character could possibly feel. She took him with entire love and trust at his own value; and she was very happy. She was complete mistress of that sweet feminine logic, which says, "I love him: therefore he is right." Clear-sighted enough in her view of others, she saw him through a mist of tender tears greater than he was. She bowed before her Ahasuerus; she believed in his glory, and could wait for his recognition by the world. She had a child-like faith in the history of Venice. On his side, he was never so ardent as in these first days of his married life. His wife inspired him with a feeling which was almost enthusiasm. He would not suffer himself to doubt the successful completion of his great