‘He has gone down to Spezzia to papa and Plantagenet; it is a white squall; it comes on very suddenly in this sea. He ran down to Spezzia instantly, because he thought they would be wet,’ said the agitated Venetia, speaking with rapidity and trying to appear calm.
‘Are they at Spezzia?’ inquired Lady Annabel, quickly.
‘George has no doubt they are, mother,’ said Venetia.
‘No doubt!’ exclaimed Lady Annabel, in great distress. ‘God grant they may be only wet.’
‘Dearest mother,’ said Venetia, approaching her, but speech deserted her. She had advanced to encourage Lady Annabel, but her own fear checked the words on her lips.
‘Change your dress, Venetia,’ said Lady Annabel; ‘lose no time in doing that. I think I will send down to Spezzia at once,’
‘That is useless now, dear mother, for George is there.’
‘Go, dearest,’ said Lady Annabel; ‘I dare say, we have no cause for fear, but I am exceedingly alarmed about your father, about them: I am, indeed. I do not like these sudden squalls, and I never liked this boating; indeed, I never did. George being with them reconciled me to it. Now go, Venetia; go, my love.’
Venetia quitted the room. She was so agitated that she made Pauncefort a confidant of her apprehensions.
‘La! my dear miss,’ said Mistress Pauncefort, ‘I should never have thought of such a thing! Do not you remember what the old man said at Weymouth, “there is many a boat will live in a rougher sea than a ship;” and it is such an unlikely thing, it is indeed, Miss Venetia. I am certain sure my lord can manage a boat as well as a common sailor, and master is hardly less used to it than he. La! miss, don’t make yourself nervous about any such preposterous ideas. And I dare say you will find them in the saloon when you go down again. Really I should not wonder. I think you had better wear your twill dress; I have put the new trimming on.’
They had not returned when Venetia joined her mother. That indeed she could scarcely expect. But, in about half an hour, a message arrived from Captain Cadurcis that they were not at Spezzia, but from something he had heard, he had no doubt they were at Sarzana, and he was going to ride on there at once. He felt sure, however, from what he had heard, they were at Sarzana. This communication afforded Lady Annabel a little ease, but Venetia’s heart misgave her. She recalled the alarm of George in the morning, which it was impossible for him to disguise, and she thought she recognised in this hurried message and vague assurances of safety something of the same apprehension, and the same fruitless efforts to conceal it.
Now came the time of terrible suspense. Sarzana was nearly twenty miles distant from Spezzia. The evening must arrive before they could receive intelligence from Captain Cadurcis. In the meantime the squall died away, the heavens became again bright, and, though the waves were still tumultuous, the surf was greatly decreased. Lady Annabel had already sent down more than one messenger to the bay, but they brought no intelligence; she resolved now to go herself, that she might have the satisfaction of herself cross-examining the fishermen who had been driven in from various parts by stress of weather. She would not let Venetia accompany her, who, she feared, might already suffer from the exertions and rough weather of the morning. This was a most anxious hour, and yet the absence of her mother was in some degree a relief to Venetia; it at least freed her from the perpetual effort of assumed composure. While her mother remained, Venetia had affected to read, though her eye wandered listlessly over the page, or to draw, though the pencil trembled in her hand; anything which might guard her from conveying to her mother that she shared the apprehensions which had already darkened her mother’s mind. But now that Lady Annabel was gone, Venetia, muffling herself up in her shawl, threw herself on a sofa, and there she remained without a thought, her mind a chaos of terrible images.
Her mother returned, and with a radiant countenance, Venetia sprang from the sofa. ‘There is good news; O mother! have they returned?’
‘They are not at Spezzia,’ said Lady Annabel, throwing herself into a chair panting for breath; ‘but there is good news. You see I was right to go, Venetia. These stupid people we send only ask questions, and take the first answer. I have seen a fisherman, and he says he heard that two persons, Englishmen he believes, have put into Lerici in an open boat.’
‘God be praised!’ said Venetia. ‘O mother, I can now confess to you the terror I have all along felt.’
‘My own heart assures me of it, my child,’ said Lady Annabel weeping; and they mingled their tears together, but tears not of sorrow.
‘Poor George!’ said Lady Annabel, ‘he will have a terrible journey to Sarzana, and be feeling so much for us! Perhaps he may meet them.’
‘I feel assured he will,’ said Venetia; ‘and perhaps ere long they will all three be here again. Joy! joy!’
‘They must never go in that boat again,’ said Lady Annabel.
‘Oh! they never will, dearest mother, if you ask them not,’ said Venetia.
‘We will send to Lerici,’ said Lady Annabel.
‘Instantly,’ said Venetia; ‘but I dare say they already sent us a messenger.’
‘No!’ said Lady Annabel; ‘men treat the danger that is past very lightly. We shall not hear from them except in person.’
Time now flew more lightly. They were both easy in their minds. The messenger was despatched to Lerici; but even Lerici was a considerable distance, and hours must elapse before his return. Still there was the hope of seeing them, or hearing from them in the interval.
‘I must go out, dear mother,’ said Venetia. ‘Let us both go out. It is now very fine. Let us go just to the ravine, for indeed it is impossible to remain here.’
Accordingly they both went forth, and took up a position on the coast which commanded a view on all sides. All was radiant again, and comparatively calm. Venetia looked upon the sea, and said, ‘Ah! I never shall forget a white squall in the Mediterranean, for all this splendour.’
It was sunset: they returned home. No news yet from Lerici. Lady Annabel grew uneasy again. The pensive and melancholy hour encouraged gloom; but Venetia, who was sanguine, encouraged her mother.
‘Suppose they were not Englishmen in the boat,’ said Lady Annabel.
‘It is impossible, mother. What other two persons in this neighbourhood could have been in an open boat? Besides, the man said Englishmen. You remember, he said Englishmen. You are quite sure he did? It must be they. I feel as convinced of it as of your presence.’
‘I think there can be no doubt,’ said Lady Annabel. ‘I wish that the messenger would return.’
The messenger did return. No two persons in an open boat had put into Lerici; but a boat, like the one described, with every stitch of canvas set, had passed Lerici just before the squall commenced, and, the people there doubted not, had made Sarzana.
Lady Annabel turned pale, but Venetia was still sanguine. ‘They are at Sarzana,’ she said; ‘they must be at Sarzana: you see George was right. He said he was sure they were at Sarzana. Besides, dear mother, he heard they were at Sarzana.’
‘And we heard they were at Lerici,’ said Lady Annabel in a melancholy tone.
And so they were, dear mother; it all agrees. The accounts are consistent. Do not you see how very consistent they are? They were seen at Lerici, and were off Lerici, but they made Sarzana; and George heard they were at Sarzana. I am certain they are at Sarzana. I feel quite easy; I feel as easy as if they were here. They are safe at Sarzana. But it is too far to return to-night. We shall see them at breakfast tomorrow, all three.’
‘Venetia, dearest! do not you sit up,’ said her mother. ‘I think there is a chance of George returning; I feel assured he will send to-night; but late, of course. Go, dearest, and sleep.’
‘Sleep!’ thought Venetia to herself; but to please her mother she retired.
‘Good-night, my child,’ said Lady Annabel. ‘The moment any one arrives, you shall be aroused.’
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