CHAPTER XXVI.
It was with a slight disturbance of his ordinary suave and well-bred
equanimity that the Italian received the information that he need
apprehend no obstacle to his suit from the insular prejudices or the
worldly views of the lady's family. Not that he was mean and cowardly
enough to recoil from the near and unclouded prospect of that felicity
which he had left off his glasses to behold with unblinking, naked eyes,
--no, there his mind was made up; but he had met in life with much that
inclines a man towards misanthropy, and he was touched not only by the
interest in his welfare testified by a heretical priest, but by the
generosity with which he was admitted into a well-born and wealthy
family, despite his notorious poverty and his foreign descent. He
conceded the propriety of the only stipulation, which was conveyed to him
by the parson with all the delicacy that became one long professionally
habituated to deal with the subtler susceptibilities of mankind,--namely,
that, amongst Riccabocca's friends or kindred, some person should be
found whose report would confirm the persuasion of his respectability
entertained by his neighbours,--he assented, I say, to the propriety of
this condition; but it was not with alacrity and eagerness. His brow
became clouded. The parson hastened to assure him that the squire was
not a man /qui stupet in titulis/,--["Who was besotted with titles."]--
that he neither expected nor desired to find an origin and rank for his
brother-in-law above that decent mediocrity of condition to which it was
evident from Riccabocca's breeding and accomplishments he could easily
establish his claim. "And though," said he, smiling, "the squire is a
warm politician in his own country, and would never see his sister again,
I fear, if she married some convicted enemy of our happy constitution,
yet for foreign politics he does not care a straw; so that if, as I
suspect, your exile arises from some quarrel with your government,--
which, being foreign, he takes for granted must be insupportable,--he
would but consider you as he would a Saxon who fled from the iron hand of
William the Conqueror, or a Lancastrian expelled by the Yorkists in our
Wars of the Roses."
The Italian smiled. "Mr. Hazeldean shall be satisfied," said he, simply.
"I see, by the squire's newspaper, that an English gentleman who knew me
in my own country has just arrived in London. I will write to him for a
testimonial, at least to my probity and character. Probably he may be
known to you by name,--nay, he must be, for he was a distinguished
officer in the late war. I allude to Lord L'Estrange."
The parson started.
"You know Lord L'Estrange?--profligate, bad man, I fear."
"Profligate! bad!" exclaimed Riccabocca. "Well, calumnious as the world
is, I should never have thought that such expressions would be applied to
one who, though I knew him but little,--knew him chiefly by the service
he once rendered to me,--first taught me to love and revere the English
name!"
"He may be changed since--" the parson paused.
"Since when?" asked Riccabocca, with evident curiosity. Mr. Dale seemed
embarrassed. "Excuse me," said he, "it is many years ago; and in short
the opinion I then formed of the nobleman you named was based upon
circumstances which I cannot communicate."
The punctilious Italian bowed in silence, but he still looked as if he
should have liked to prosecute inquiry.
After a pause he said, "Whatever your impression respecting Lord
L'Estrange, there is nothing, I suppose, which would lead you to doubt
his honour, or reject his testimonial in my favour?"
"According to fashionable morality," said Mr. Dale, rather precisely,
"I know of nothing that could induce me to suppose that Lord L'Estrange
would not, in this instance, speak the truth. And he has unquestionably
a high reputation as a soldier, and a considerable position in the
world." Therewith the parson took his leave. A few days afterwards, Dr.
Riccabocca inclosed to the squire, in a blank envelope, a letter he had
received from Harley L'Estrange. It was evidently intended for the
squire's eye, and to serve as a voucher for the Italian's respectability;
but this object was fulfilled, not in the coarse form of a direct
testimonial, but with a tact and delicacy which seemed to show more than
the fine breeding to be expected from one in Lord L'Estrange's station.
It evinced that most exquisite of all politeness which comes from the
heart; a certain tone of affectionate respect (which even the homely
sense of the squire felt, intuitively, proved far more in favour of
Riccabocca than the most elaborate certificate of his qualities and
antecedents) pervaded the whole, and would have sufficed in itself to
remove all scruples from a mind much more suspicious and exacting than
that of the Squire of Hazeldean. But, to and behold! an obstacle now
occurred to the parson, of which he ought to have thought long before,--
namely, the Papistical religion of the Italian. Dr. Riccabocca was
professedly a Roman Catholic. He so little obtruded that fact--and,
indeed, had assented so readily to any animadversions upon the
superstition and priestcraft which, according to Protestants, are the
essential characteristics of Papistical communities--that it was not
till the hymeneal torch, which brings all faults to light, was fairly
illumined for the altar, that the remembrance of a faith so cast into the
shade burst upon the conscience of the parson. The first idea that then
occurred to him was the proper and professional one,--namely, the
conversion of Dr. Riccabocca. He hastened to his study, took down from
his shelves long neglected volumes of controversial divinity, armed
himself with an arsenal of authorities, arguments, and texts; then,
seizing the shovel-hat, posted off to the Casino.
