"This is well, Ghita, in appearance at least; but thou canst hardly feel much for one thou never saw"st and who has even refused to own thee for a child. Thou art young, too, and of a s.e.x that should ever be cautious; it is unwise for men, even, to meddle with politics in these troubled times."

"Signora, it is not politics that brings me here, but nature, and duty, and pious love for my father"s father."

"What wouldst thou say, then?" answered the lady impatiently; "remember thou occupiest one whose time is precious and of high importance to entire nations."

"Eccellenza, I believe it, and will try to be brief. I wish to beg my grandfather"s life of this ill.u.s.trious stranger. They tell me the king will refuse him nothing, and he has only to ask it of Don Ferdinando to obtain it."

Many would have thought the matured charms of the lady superior to the innocent-looking beauty of the girl; but no one could have come to such an opinion who saw them both at that moment. While Ghita"s face was radiant with a holy hope and the pious earnestness which urged her on, a dark expression lowered about the countenance of the English beauty that deprived it of one of its greatest attractions by depriving it of the softness and gentleness of her s.e.x. Had there not been observers of what pa.s.sed, it is probable the girl would have been abruptly repulsed; but management formed no small part of the character of this woman, and she controlled her feelings in order to effect her purposes.

"This admiral is not a Neapolitan, but an Englishman," she answered, "and can have no concern with the justice of your king. He would scarcely think it decent to interfere with the execution of the laws of Naples."

"Signora, it is always decent to interfere to save life; nay, it is more--it is merciful in the eyes of G.o.d."

"What canst thou know of this? A conceit that thou hast the blood of the Caraccioli has made thee forget thy s.e.x and condition, and placed a romantic notion of duty before thine eyes."

"No, Signora, it is not so. For eighteen years have I been taught that the unfortunate admiral was my grandfather; but, as it has been his pleasure to wish not to see me, never have I felt the desire to intrude on his time. Before this morning never has the thought that I have the blood of the Caraccioli crossed my mind, unless it was to mourn for the sin of my grandmother; and even now it has come to cause me to mourn for the cruel fate that threatens the days of her partner in guilt."

"Thou art bold to speak thus of thy parents, girl, and they, too, of the n.o.ble and great!"

This was said with a flushed brow and still more lowering look; for, haply, there were incidents in the past life of that lady which made the simple language of a severe morality alike offensive to her ears and her recollections.

"It is not I, Eccellenza, but G.o.d, that speaketh thus. The crime, too, is another reason why this great admiral should use his influence to save a sinner from so hurried an end. Death is terrible to all but to those who trust, with heart and soul, to the mediation of the Son of G.o.d; but it is doubly so when it comes suddenly and unlooked for. It is true, Don Francesco is aged; but have you not remarked, signora, that it is these very aged who become hardened to their state, and live on, as if never to die?--I mean those aged who suffer youth to pa.s.s, as if the pleasures of life are never to have an end."

"Thou art too young to set up for a reformer of the world, girl; and forgettest that this is the ship of one of the greatest officers of Europe, and that he has many demands on his time. Thou canst now go; I will repeat what thou hast said."

"I have another request to ask, Eccellenza--permission to see Don Francesco; that I may at least receive his blessing."

"He is not in this ship. Thou wilt find him on board the Minerva frigate; no doubt he will not be denied. Stop--these few lines will aid thy request. Addio, signorina."

"And may I carry hope with me, Eccellenza? Think how sweet life is to those who have pa.s.sed their days so long in affluence and honor. It would be like a messenger from heaven for a grand-child to bring but a ray of hope."

"I authorize none. The matter is in the hands of the Neapolitan authorities, and we English cannot meddle. Go, now, both of you--the ill.u.s.trious admiral has business of importance that presses."

Ghita turned, and slowly and sorrowfully she left the cabin. At the very door she met the English lieutenant, who was in charge of the unhappy prisoner, coming with a last request that he might not be suspended like a thief, but might at least die the death of a soldier. It would exceed the limits set to our tale were we to dwell on the conversation which ensued; but every intelligent reader knows that the application failed.

CHAPTER XIV.

"Like other tyrants, Death delights to smite What smitten most proclaims the pride of power, And arbitrary nod."

YOUNG.

It is probable that Nelson never knew precisely what pa.s.sed between Ghita and the lady mentioned in the last chapter. At all events, like every other application that was made to the English admiral in connection with this sad affair, that of Ghita produced no results.

Even the mode of execution was unchanged; an indecent haste accompanying the whole transaction, as in the equally celebrated trial and death of the unfortunate Duc d"Enghien. Cuffe remained to dine with the commander-in-chief, while Carlo Giuntotardi and his niece got into their boat and took their way through the crowded roadstead toward the Neapolitan frigate that now formed the prison of the unfortunate Caraccioli.

A request at the gangway was all that was necessary to procure an admission on board the ship. As soon as the Signor Giuntotardi reached the quarter-deck he let his errand be known, and a messenger was sent below to ascertain if the prisoner would see two visitors, the name of the uncle being alone given. Francesco Caraccioli, of the Princes Caraccioli, or, as he was more commonly called in English, Prince Caraccioli, was now a man approaching seventy; and, being a member of one of the most ill.u.s.trious houses of lower Italy, he had long been trusted in employments of high dignity and command. On his offence--its apology--the indecent haste of his trial and execution, and the irregularity of the whole proceedings, it is now unnecessary to dwell; they have all pa.s.sed into history, and are familiarly known to the world. That very morning had he been seized and sent on board the Foudroyant; in the cabin of that vessel had a court of his own countrymen convened; and there had he been hastily condemned to death.

The hour of doom was near, and he was already in the ship where the execution was to take place.

The messenger of Carlo Giuntotardi found this unfortunate man with his confessor, by whom he had just been shrived. He heard the request with cold indifference, but granted it on the instant, under the impression that it came from some dependent of his family or estates, who had a last favor to ask, or an act of justice to see performed.

"Remain here, father, I beseech you." said the prisoner, perceiving that the priest was about to retire; "it is some contadino, or some tradesman, whose claims have been overlooked. I am happy that he has come: one would wish to stand acquitted of injustice before he dies. Let them come in, my friend."

A sign was given with these words, the door of the cabin was opened, and Ghita, with her uncle, entered. A pause of quite a minute followed, during which the parties regarded each other in silence, the prisoner endeavoring in vain to recall the countenances of his guests, and the girl trembling, equally with grief and apprehension. Then the last advanced to the feet of the condemned man, knelt, bowed her head, and said:

"Grandfather, your blessing on the child of your only son."

"Grandfather!--Son!--and his child!" repeated Don Francesco. "I _had_ a son, to my shame and contrition be it now confessed, but he has long been dead, I never knew that he left a child!"

"This is his daughter, Signore," replied Carlo Giuntotardi; "her mother was my sister. You thought us then too humble to be received into so ill.u.s.trious a connection, and we have never wished to bring ourselves before your eyes until we thought our presence might be welcome."

"And thou comest now, good man, to claim affinity with a condemned criminal!"

"Not so, grandfather," answered a meek voice at his feet, "it is your son"s daughter that craves a blessing from her dying parent. The boon shall be well requited in prayers for your soul!"

"Holy father! I deserve not this! Here has this tender plant lived, neglected in the shade, until it raises its timid head to offer its fragrance in the hour of death! I deserve not this!"

"Son, if heaven offered no mercies until they are merited, hopeless, truly, would be the lot of man. But we must not admit illusions at such a moment. Thou art not a husband, Don Francesco; hadst thou ever a son?"

"That, among other sins, have I long since confessed; and as it has been deeply repented of, I trust it is forgiven. I had a son--a youth who bore my name, even; though he never dwelt in my palace, until a hasty and indiscreet marriage banished him from my presence. I ever intended to pardon him, and to make provision for his wants; but death came too soon to both husband and wife to grant the time. This much I _did_ know, and it grieved me that it was so; but of his child, never before this instant have I heard! "Tis a sweet countenance, father; it seems the very abode of truth!"

"Why should we deceive you, grandfather?" rejoined Ghita, stretching her arms upward, as if yearning for an embrace; "most of all at a time like this! We come not for honors, or riches, or your great name; we come simply to crave a blessing, and to let you know that a child of your own blood will be left on earth to say aves in behalf of your soul"!

"Holy priest, there can be no deception here! This dear child even looks like her wronged grandmother! and my heart tells me she is mine. I know not whether to consider this discovery a good or an evil at this late hour, coming as it does to a dying man!"

"Grandfather, your blessing. Bless Ghita once, that I may hear the sound of a parent"s benediction."

"Bless thee!--bless thee, daughter!" exclaimed the admiral, bending over the weeping girl to do the act she solicited, and then raising her to his arms and embracing her tenderly; "this _must_ be my child--I feel that she is no other."

"Eccellenza," said Carlo, "she is the daughter of your son, Don Francesco, and of my sister, Ghita Giuntotardi, born in lawful wedlock.

I would not deceive any--least of all a dying man."

"I have no estate to bequeathe--no honors to transmit--no name to boast of. Better the offspring of the lazzaroni than a child of Francesco Caraccioli, at this moment."

"Grandfather, we think not of this--care not for this. I have come only to ask the blessing you have bestowed, and to offer the prayers of believers, though we are so lowly. More than this we ask not--wish not--seek not. Our poverty is familiar to us, and we heed it not. Riches would but distress us, and we care not for them."

"I remember, holy father, that one great reason of displeasure at my son"s marriage was distrust of the motive of the family which received him; yet here have these honest people suffered me to live on unmolested in prosperity, while they now first claim the affinity in my disgrace and ignominy! I have not been accustomed to meet with wishes and hearts like these!"

"You did not know us, grandfather," said Ghita simply, her face nearly buried in the old man"s bosom. "We have long prayed for you, and reverenced you, and thought of you as a parent whose face was turned from us in anger; but we never sought your gold and honors."

"Gold and honors!" repeated the admiral, gently placing his grand-daughter in a chair. "These are things of the past for me. My estates are sequestered--my name disgraced; and, an hour hence, I shall have suffered an ignominious death. No selfish views _can_ have brought these good people, father, to claim affinity with me at a moment like this."

"It comes from the goodness of G.o.d, son. By letting you feel the consolation of this filial love, and by awakening in your own bosom the spark of parental affection, he foreshadows the fruits of his own mercy and tenderness to the erring but penitent. Acknowledge his bounty in your soul; it may bring a blessing on your last moment."

"Holy priest, I hope I do. But what says this?--"

Don Francesco took a note from the hand of a servant and read its contents eagerly; the world and its feelings having too much hold on his heart to be plucked out in an instant. Indeed so sudden had been his arrest, trial, and conviction, that it is not surprising the priest found in him a divided spirit, even at an instant like that. His countenance fell, and he pa.s.sed a hand before his eyes, as if to conceal a weakness that was unbecoming.