Chapter XVII: The Winter in Rome

BUT day after day passed and every inquiry proved unavailing. No one knew any thing of a man by that name. Mr. Wallingford then engaged the police to continue the search, which was equally unsuccessful; and they were forced to the conclusion that Mr. Dudley was not a resident in Rome.

"But may he not have taken another name?" suggested Gertrude.

"I have thought of that; but what good will it do you to see him? What object is there in hunting for one who when found very likely will cause you fresh grief. You were forgetting him; and I consider it very unfortunate that he ever came in your path."

"I have never forgotten to pray for him one day since we parted," faltered Gertrude, turning to leave the room.

Mr. Wallingford did, indeed, consider it a misfortune, when he witnessed the effect of this incident on his sister. She grew nervous and excitable; restless when in doors; and when out, continually on the watch for one who never came.

November was half through, when late one night a boy came to the villa, asking a servant to let him see the mistress. Gertrude sat alone in her chamber, having removed her dress, and wrapped herself in a rich cashmere robe. She directed the servant, in an indifferent tone, to send the boy to her door.

He addressed her in Italian; "I was to give you this," putting a soiled paper in her hand.

She took it in the ends of her fingers, went toward the light, supposing it to be an application for alms; but no sooner did her eye fall on the signature, than her whole being seemed changed.

She rang the bell repeatedly, sending one servant to her brother's room to ask him to come to her immediately; another, she directed to call a carriage, while a third was despatched for all the luxuries the house could afford.

Then locking the door of her room she threw herself on her knees.

"My God, I thank thee," she murmured. "Give me this soul in answer to my earnest prayers. Help me to forgive my poor, erring husband, even as my Saviour has forgiven me."

A knock at the door interrupted her, and presently she put the paper into Edward's hands.

"Read that," she exclaimed. "Read it and come with me to the bed of a dying man."

She was fearfully excited, more than he had ever seen her. He put his hand on her shoulder saying, firmly:

"Gertrude, you must be more calm. I will not allow you to go, until you promise to control yourself."

There was a flash in her eye which reminded him of former years.

"You cannot prevent me. You have no right to keep me from my husband."

"He is not your husband, Gerty. You do not know but he may have married again."

She gasped for breath, throwing up her hands in horror. "I never thought that possible," she murmured faintly.

He left her for a moment; and then returned to find her making a great effort to control herself.

"The carriage has come," he said, "and I am prepared to accompany you to the poor sufferer as I would to any distressed countryman; but, Gerty, for the sake of the respect you owe yourself, do not allow him to suspect that your affection for him has survived his neglect."

She bowed her head without speaking; and they went to the carriage, the boy who brought the letter mounting on the box with the driver.

Not a word was said during the drive. Both were too absorbed for speech; and at length the messenger called out:

"This is the house."

Gertrude jumped from the carriage and gave a searching glance around the locality, as if to judge by it, what Paul's associations had been. Taking Edward's arm, she followed the lad up a flight of creaking stairs. The door of the room was ajar; and as they stopped a moment, Gerty heard a feeble voice ask eagerly:

"Did you find the lady? Will she come?"

"She is here."

Turning his head Paul Dudley saw Gertrude standing at the entrance.

He was lying on a low couch against the wall propped up with every article that could be turned to such a use. By his side was an unpainted bench holding a bowl of drink, and a common earthen plate with a piece of hard bread.

When he saw her whom he had won in her girlhood, the recollection of all he had made her suffer rushed to his mind. He gasped out:

"Go away again! I can't endure that you should see my disgrace." But she did not go. She advanced to the side of the bed, and stood looking down upon him with such an expression of sorrow that he hid his face.

"I have come at your bidding," she said in a voice so calm that Edward, who remembered how he had found her almost frantic with excitement, gazed at her in wonder.

"I couldn't die till I had seen you once more."

"How long have you been ill?"

"Ever since the day I met you at the studio. For years I had been trying to forget. In one moment the labor was undone."

"Have you had medical advice?"

He laughed bitterly; "I, had advice! Why for weeks together I have not owned a dollar."

"How have you lived? I mean what has kept you from starving?"

"It is a long story," he answered, "and I am very weak."

She turned to her brother, who gave a whispered message to the lad, sending him from the room.

"Is that Edward Wallingford?" murmured the sick man. "I did not send for him."

"This is not a place for a lady to be seen alone," was Edward's reply; "but that is not the only reason I came. I heard you were in distress; and I came to relieve you if possible."

"Nobody can do that. I have thrown away the best chance for happiness a man ever had. You know what I might have been. And you," turning to Gertrude, "know how wickedly I broke my vows to you. This is what sin has brought me to."

"We are all sinners," said Gertrude earnestly, "and Christ came to save those who feel themselves to be lost without his aid. Cannot you throw yourself upon his mercy, his infinite love?"

"No, no. I've no hope of happiness in this world or the next. I only wanted to see you once more. You can go away now."

"I would not leave a stranger to die alone in a strange land; and I will not leave you till some one comes to your assistance."

Her voice, from the effort she was making to keep calm, sounded cold and constrained. "I have brought food," she added, "Will you have some?"

He immediately stretched out his bony hand eagerly.

Ina few moments steps were heard on the stairs; and Edward went hastily forward, detaining the physician for whom he had sent, to explain that a countryman had called for aid, and that he would pay for every attention shown him.

It was a late hour before Gertrude could be persuaded to leave, and then only to take a few hours rest, before she made hurried preparations for the sick man to be removed to her villa. The physician had told her, Paul had but a few weeks to live; and she had persuaded her brother to allow him to die under their own roof.

One sight of that haggard face, upon which vice and poverty had left their mark, had dissipated forever all hope of a reunion in this life, though she earnestly prayed they might spend an eternity together in heaven. But she felt that God had given her a work to do; and in order to accomplish it she must have the dying man where she could readily gain access to him. "My dream is over," she said to her brother. "The first shock was when you suggested that he might have married again; an idea which never had occurred to me. Then when I saw the seal crime had stamped on his once handsome face, I realized that he is not the Paul to whom I had given my heart. But he has a precious soul to be saved; and for that I must labor while he has life."

"You shall have all the help that I can give," was his reply, more relieved by her words than she could well imagine; "and may God bless our endeavors."

Early in the forenoon Edward went out to make arrangements for Paul's removal. It was three hours before he returned, and Gertrude had grown very impatient. When the carriage stopped at the door, she started to go forward; but her brother motioned her back, saying:

"The exertion has been too much for the poor fellow; and he has fainted. You must wait till he has had time to rest."

The physician had accompanied his patient, wishing every sick foreigner might find such friends. He prescribed perfect quiet for the rest of the day, adding, "Mr. Dudley is so weak the least excitement may prove fatal."

This was very trying to Mrs. Wallingford, who yearned to commence her work. She comforted herself by returning to her closet and besieging the throne of grace in his behalf.

The next morning Edward reported that the medicine, proper food and quiet, had produced a most happy result. He had enjoyed some hours of refreshing sleep; and was now partaking of a bountiful breakfast his nurse had prepared.