Chapter XXVI: 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.