



Produced by Dagny; John Bickers





STORIES BY ENGLISH AUTHORS

ITALY




CONTENTS

     A FAITHFUL RETAINER        James Payn
     BIANCA                     W. E. Norris
     GONERIL                    A. Mary F. Robinson
     THE BRIGAND'S BRIDE        Laurence Oliphant
     MRS. GENERAL TALBOYS       Anthony Trollope




A FAITHFUL RETAINER, By James Payn


When I lived in the country,--which was a long time ago,--our nearest
neighbours were the Luscombes. They were very great personages in the
country indeed, and the family were greatly "respected"; though not,
so far as I could discern, for any particular reason, except from
their having been there for several generations. People are supposed to
improve, like wine, from keeping--even if they are rather "ordinary" at
starting; and the Luscombes, at the time I knew them, were considered
quite a "vintage" family. They had begun in Charles II.'s time, and
dated their descent from greatness in the female line. That they had
managed to keep a great estate not very much impaired so long was
certainly a proof of great cleverness, since there had been many
spend-thrifts among them; but fortunately there had been a miser or two,
who had restored the average, and their fortunes.

Mr. Roger Luscombe, the present proprietor, was neither the one nor the
other, but he was inclined to frugality, and no wonder; a burnt child
dreads the fire, even though he may have had nothing to do with lighting
it himself, and his father had kicked down a good many thousands with
the help of "the bones" (as dice were called in his day) and "the
devil's books" (which was the name for cards with those that disapproved
of them) and race-horses; there was plenty left, but it made the old
gentleman careful and especially solicitous to keep it. There was no
stint, however, of any kind at the Court, which to me, who lived in the
little vicarage of Dalton with my father, seemed a palace.

It was indeed a very fine place, with statues in the hall and pictures
in the gallery and peacocks on the terrace. Lady Jane, the daughter of
a wealthy peer, who had almost put things on their old footing with her
ample dowry, was a very great lady, and had been used, I was told, to
an even more splendid home; but to me, who had no mother, she was simply
the kindest and most gracious woman I had ever known.

My connection with the Luscombes arose from their only son Richard
being my father's pupil. We were both brought up at home, but for very
different reasons. In my case it was from economy: the living was small
and our family was large, though, as it happened, I had no brothers.
Richard was too precious to his parents to be trusted to the tender
mercies of a public school. He was in delicate health, not so much
natural to him as caused by an excess of care--coddling. Though he and I
were very good friends, unless when we were quarreling, it must be owned
that he was a spoiled boy.

There is a good deal of nonsense talked of young gentlemen who are
brought up from their cradles in an atmosphere of flattery _not_
being spoiled; but unless they are angels--which is a very exceptional
case--it cannot be otherwise. Richard Luscombe was a good fellow in
many ways; liberal with his money (indeed, apt to be lavish), and
kind-hearted, but self-willed, effeminate, and impulsive. He had
also--which was a source of great alarm and grief to his father--a
marked taste for speculation.

After the age of "alley tors and commoneys," of albert-rock and
hard-bake, in which we both gambled frightfully, I could afford him no
opportunities of gratifying this passion; but if he could get a little
money "on" anything, there was nothing that pleased him better--not
that he cared for the money, but for the delight of winning it. The next
moment he would give it away to a beggar. Numbers of good people look
upon gambling with even greater horror than it deserves, because they
cannot understand this; the attraction of risk, and the wild joy of
"pulling off" something when the chances are against one, are unknown to
them. It is the same with the love of liquor. Richard Luscombe had not
a spark of that (his father left him