A STRANGE FATALITY.
The gardens of the Villa Palmiero sloped down in terraces and orange
groves to the water’s edge, and extended on one side some way along the
coast. At one end there was a diminutive bay, surrounded by steep rocks,
which shut out the garden from that of the next villa.
The Chandos family had not yet explored their beautiful walks, and Lady
Horatia, who knew the place well, was the first to introduce them to the
treasures of varied scenery they possessed in their own grounds. The
Duke was wheeled down in a chair by Hetty and one of her little
brothers; and Brownie, who had been sent for by her mother, joined the
party and went bounding along before to show the way. The Duke was so
enchanted with the view from the little bay and its shady recesses, that
he declared that his sitting-room should be under the cliff, or in the
cave near the rock, where a little stream ran down from the heights,
and, forming a cascade at the entrance, gave the air a delicious
freshness.
The children were so delighted at the idea that they insisted upon
running up to the house immediately to bring down a table and chairs,
and the Duke’s and Norah’s favourite books; and Hetty said she should
bring hers, and the Duke must give her his daily lesson in Spanish
there.
Norah had known that language a little before, and during these last
weeks she learnt a great deal more; for she saw that it interested the
sufferer to make the beautiful old literature of his country known to
her, and to draw forth her admiration for the best passages in Lope de
Vega, Calderon, and other authors.
“I suppose,” said Lady Horatia, who was amused at the enthusiasm of the
party, “I suppose you will pass most of your time down here; and
remember, at sunset the view is perfectly enchanting, the colouring of
Vesuvius and Naples, with those beautiful islands of Capri and Ischia;
you will of course paint a lovely picture of it.”
This Norah soon attempted to do; and while she was making the sketch
that afternoon, the Duke read aloud for her some poems of Lope de Vega.
The children had brought down her drawing materials, and she thought
they were playing about among the orange trees near. But it so happened
that they had all gone up to the house, and Norah was so absorbed in her
sketch, and in listening to the beautiful poems, that she did not miss
them.
There was a word in the poem she did not quite understand, and looking
away from her drawing, she leant over the book he held to see the
passage. At that moment she heard the sound of oars: a boat became
visible as it entered the little bay, close to the spot where they were
sitting. There was only one person in it, and when he saw the Duke and
Norah he suddenly stood up, and she recognised Sir Alfred Rivers.
There was a mixture of surprise and contempt, anger and indifference, on
his face as he raised his hat with a ceremonious bow; and without saying
anything he resumed his oars, and rowed quickly out of sight.
“Alfred! dear Alfred!” said Norah, as she ran to the other side of the
bay to see if his boat could be discerned from thence. “Oh! why would he
not stop?” she thought, with a vague feeling of disappointment and
dread. “Then he really wishes to shun me,” was the after, and most
painful conviction.
The Duke had watched her with great anxiety, for though he was
acquainted with Sir Alfred, he had never heard his name coupled with
hers; and as he saw the look of dejection she vainly endeavoured to
conceal as she walked back, a painful suspicion was awakened in his
mind, for to his own great surprise he had made the discovery, soon
after the adventure with the banditti, that he loved her.
Yes, he loved her with a purer and much more sober, true affection than
the wild passion which had been awakened for his brother’s betrothed.
And now, in this moment of bitter disappointment, he could not resist
the impulse to declare his love, while at the same time he acknowledged
to himself his conviction that it was hopeless.
Norah was horror-struck at his words, and endeavoured to convince him
that he was deceiving himself, and that he was only grateful to her for
the little attention shown to him; and then thought it better to tell
him the whole history of her intimacy with Sir Alfred, and ended by
declaring that, though it was probable they should never marry, yet she
could never care for anyone else.
This he fully believed when he called to mind the expression of her face
as she said the word Alfred, and the look of despairing disappointment
as he went away so suddenly.
When she had endeavoured to explain to him her whole history, not
omitting his meeting with and his engagement to me, she mechanically
took down her easel and put up her paints, for she felt that it had been
very wrong to be alone with him there.
At that moment it was a great relief to see Lady Horatia and little
Brownie coming down the terrace walks. As she approached near, Lady
Horatia saw that there had been some exciting scene; and when Norah told
her that Sir Alfred had been rowing in close to the shore, she
understood it all at once.
“And you have told the Duke all?” she inquired. “I thought so--I thought
you would--quite right. Now, then, take Brownie up to the house, and I
will have a little talk with the Duke, for I must say he looks very
unhappy, and it is sad to suffer in mind before he has entirely
recovered from his wounds.”
Lady Horatia had then a long conversation with the Duke, and it resulted
in a determination which she announced that evening to Norah, with whom
she had a private interview in her own room.