Let us travel together, kinsmen as we are, change our
names, and let no one in England know anything about us during our
tour except the two dear women on whose accounts we are thus
transported!"
With these views they landed in France, gave themselves out to be
brothers (which a certain resemblance in their persons corroborated),
and called themselves Sackville. Agreeably amused with the novelties
presented to them at almost every step of their tour from gay Paris
to sentimental Italy, they proceeded pretty amicably until they
reached Naples. There Mr. Stanhope involved himself in an intrigue
with the only daughter of an old British officer, who had retired to
that climate for his health. Somerset remonstrated on the villany of
seducing an innocent girl, when he knew his heart and hand were
pledged to another. Stanhope, enraged at finding a censor in a
companion whom he had considered to be as headstrong as himself,
ended the argument by drawing his sword, and if the servants of the
hotel had not interfered, the affray would probably have terminated
with one of their lives. Since that hour they never met. Mr. Stanhope
fled from his shame and his bleeding friend, and, fearful of
consequences, took temporary refuge in one of the Aonian Isles, not
daring to proceed any further against the innocence of the poor
officer's daughter, who had been thus rescued from becoming his
victim!
When recovered from his wound, Robert Somerset (by some strange
infatuation still retaining the name of Sackville) proceeded to
Florence, in which interesting city, for works of art, ancient and
modern, and the graces of classic society, determining to stay some
time, he rather sought than repelled the civilities of the
inhabitants.
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