The Count of the Saxon Shore; or The Villa in Vectis.<br />A Tale of the Departure of the Romans fro, Church and Putnam [summer beach reads TXT] 📗
- Author: Church and Putnam
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“Oh, Carna,” cried Ælia, throwing her arms round her sister, “shall we ever be as happy again as we have been in this dear place?”
Carna clung to her, and sobbed as if her heart would break.
[pg 264]“Does it trouble you so much to go?” asked the Count. “Surely the place is not so much to you. You can be happy, wherever you may be, with those you love.”
The girl lifted up a tear-stained face to him.
“Father,” she said—“more than father, for you have loved me without any tie of kindred—I cannot go, my home is here.”
“Nay, child, what are you saying? Your home has been with us ever since you were a babe in arms, and it is so still; or,” he added, with a smile, “are you going to leave us for a husband?”
The girl blushed crimson as she shook her head. When she could recover her speech, choked, as it was, with sobs, she said—
“You asked me just now what you should do, and I said ‘Go home to your country.’ Can I do less myself? Rome is your country, and Britain is mine. And oh, if Rome wants all her sons and daughters, how much more does this poor Britain!”
“But where will you live?” broke in the Count’s daughter; “Where will you be safe? Think of the dreadful things you have gone through within the last few months! How can you bear to face them with your friends gone? And, dearest Carna,” she went on, as she clasped her still closer, “how can I live without you?”
“My dearest sister,” sobbed the girl, “don’t make [pg 265]it harder than it is. It breaks my heart to part from you, but I cannot doubt what my duty is. And I am not without hope. There are brave men here, and men who love their country, and I cannot but trust that they will be able to do something. Of course, we shall stumble, for we have not been used to go alone, but I do hope that we shall not fall altogether.”
“But, Carna, what can you do?” said Ælia. “You seem to be sacrificing yourself for nothing.”
“Not for nothing; it is something if I can only sit at home and pray. But it must be at home that I must pray. God would not hear me if I were to put myself in some safe, comfortable place, and then pretend to care for the poor people whom I had left behind.”
She hurried from the room when she had said this, as if she could not trust herself against persuasions that touched her heart so nearly.
“Carna is right,” said the Count, when she had gone, “but I feel as if she were going to her death.”
FAREWELL!
The resolution to return to Italy once made, the Count lost no time in carrying it out. His own preparations for departure did not cost him much trouble. He began by offering freedom to all the slaves in his household. The difficulty was in inducing them to accept it. So kind a master had he been—in spite of an occasional outburst of temper—and so uncertain were the prospects of a quiet life in Britain, that very few felt any eagerness to be independent, and the boon had to be forced upon them or made acceptable by a considerable bribe. With the free population that since the departure of the legions had gathered in increasing numbers about the villa it was still more difficult to deal. Many of them were quite helpless people whom it seemed equally difficult to take and to leave behind. To all that were of Italian birth, or that had kinsfolk or friends on the Continent who might be reasonably expected to give [pg 267]them a home, the Count offered a passage. For others employment was found in Londinium and other towns. But, when all that was possible had been done, there was a helpless remnant, about whom the Count felt much as the occupants of the last boat must feel at the sight of the poor creatures whom they are forced to leave behind on a sinking ship.
Carna had quitted the villa very soon after her resolution to remain in Britain had been made. It was indeed too painful to remain there, for, though the Count had confessed that she was right, his daughter remained unconvinced, and assailed her with incessant entreaties and reproaches which went very near to breaking her heart. She made her home with the old priest whose wife was a distant kinswoman of her own, and found, as such tender hearts always will, a solace for her own sorrows in relieving the troubles of others.
About the middle of September all was ready for a start. The two serviceable ships that were left to the Count were loaded to their utmost capacity with the persons and property of the departing colony. Their sailing masters had indeed remonstrated as strongly as they dared.
“We may get safely across,” said the senior of them, “if all goes better than we have any right to expect. But if it comes on to blow we shall hardly be able to handle our ships; and if we meet with the [pg 268]pirates—well, a man might as well go into battle with his hands tied.”
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