Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 322: what you’re looking at

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

JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THK MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. sant for me to remain in the Tuscan capital any longer.” “It’s just that,” said the Dominie: and lazily thrusting his hand into his pocket—as I though to take out his snuff-box—he drew forth his purse. “JT suppose, Wilmot,’ he continued, “ you are afraid of a bailiff e “ Well, and it’s quite natural,” exclaimed Salft- coats, “for a young gentleman to outrun the con- stable. Here, Dominie, let me manage this little business: I have a roll of bank-notes in my pocket-book that I don’t know what to do with; and if Wilmot would only just take charge of them for a twelvemonth or so, he would be doing me a service and saving mea world of anxiety and trouble.” I was deeply affected by these instances of generosity on the part of my well-meaning, simple- minded friends: and I hastened to assure them that pecuniary difficulties formed no part of the motives which induced me to leave Florence. ‘ the contrary,” I continued, “I have an ample supply of ready money—far more than is requisite for my wants. The affairs to which I allude, are completely private. But my gratitude is not the less vivid towards you, my friends, for your kind intentions. And now farewell.” I wrung the hands of Dominie Clackmannan and Mr. Saltcoats, and hastened away,—having all the while affected to be unaware of the proximity of the Earl of Eccleston. I returned to the Count of Livorno’s mansion, satisfied that accident had enabled me to impress the Earl with. the belief that I was really about to leave Florence through disgust at recent circumstances. Shortly after- wards the Count of Livorno came back from his visit to the villa,—where, as he assured me, every- thing would be in readiness for my reception whenever I thought fit to shiff my quarters thither. It was resolved that I should leave the Count’s mansion in the evening in his own travel- ling-chariot, which might be kept at the villa until the following morning, so as to create the impression (in case the Earl should watch my movements) that it had taken me a considerable distance on my road from Florence. It was about nine o’clock in the evening when I took a temporary leave of the Count and Coun- tess of Livorno, and ascended into the travelling- chariot. As the equipage rolled out of the court- yard of the Count’s mansion, I caught a glimpse of a cloaked individual standing a little way off, on the opposite side of the street; and by his height my suspicion was confirmed that he was the Earl of Eccleston. The chariot continued its way through the city; and when the outskirt was reached and we entered upon the broad open road, I looked anxiously from the window to see if we were being followed by any other vehicle. But we were not: and I therefore concluded that the Earl had satisfied himself, by what he had seen, as to the reality of my departure. The villa was soon reached; and I was received with the utmost respect by the domestics who had charge of it. It was not however until the following morning that I was enabled fally to appreciate the beauty of the spot on which my temporary home was situated. The villa itself was entirely a modern edifice, of light architecture, commodious, and ele- gantly furnished. It stood at a distance of about 309 a hundred yards from the bank of the Arno—an immense grass-plat, dotted with borders of flowers, sloping gradually down to the water’s edge. There were delightful gardens and pleasure-grounds at- tached to the villa,—the little estate being bordered by a thick hedge of evergreens, as the Count of Livorno had represented it. There were numerous shady avenues, and gravel-walks embowered in verdure ; so that it was easy to take plenty of exercise, and enjoy all the beauties of those grounds without being observed by any one pass- ing on the outer side of the boundary-screen of foliage. The front of the villa, as the reader will understand, faced the Arno; and the grounds.be- longing to the edifice formed a complete paral- lelogram of an oblong form, about two hundred yards wide and a quarter of a mile inlength. On the right hand of the grounds was another little estate, with a picturesque villa in the midst, but which was for the present untenanted. On the left hand there was a large cemetery. Start not, reader! it was not a gloomy, mourn- ful churchyard, with sombre yew-trees throwing their dark shade over the graves, nor with the tombstones gleaming white and ghastly through the dusk of evening or the starlit glory of night. It was a true Continental cemetery,—the resting- places of the dead being marked with iron crosses, some bronzed—some gilt. The scene was dotted with mausoleums embowered in verdure: the bright gravel walks meandered amongst parterres of flowers; and all the trees and shrubs appeared to indicate that the taste of the projector had selected those of the liveliest and tenderest green instead of those of deep and sombre hues. This cemetery undulated like a rolling landscape over an extent of about three square miles; and on the highest eminence in the midst a picturesque chapel was situated. I should observe that many, if not most of the crosses were hung with garlands of flowers and immortelles—those touching and grate- ful tributes which an affectionate piety pays in foreign countries to the loved and perished ones. The abodes of death were there devoid of gloom and horror: they were cheerful, interesting, and picturesque: they seemed almost emblematical of the brighter worlds to which the good had passed away from this one which is too oft so sad and dreary for the oppressed spirit of the living. Yes—it was a cheerful scene; and therefore, when I found that the old housekeeper in charge of the villa had assigned to me a bed-chamber whiuis had a bow-window on the left side of the edifice, and looking straight over the hedge towards the gently undulating landscapes of the cemetery, I felt by no means inclined to contradict her as she assured me that it was the most pleasant sleeping- apartment in the whole house: nor did [ fora single instant hesitate to occupy it. I found a good library at the villa,—containing many French and English works, besides Italian ones; and there was a small gallery of good paint. ings:—for what well-appointed house in Italy is without some masterpieces of the kind, or at least excellent copies of them? I did not therefore entertain any apprehension of being dull, through want of occupation, during my sojourn at the villa —unless indeed my own thoughts should lead to dejection in consequence of the very motive which had induced me to fix my temporary abode at that ElO@QO) ‘S. co