When Arthur got out of the gates of the Quinta Carr, he hurried to the hotel, with the intention of reading the letters Mildred had given him, and, passing through the dining-room, seated himself upon the “stoep” which overlooked the garden in order to do so. At this time of year it was, generally speaking, a quiet place enough; but on this particular day scarcely had Arthur taken the letter from his pocket, and — having placed the ring that it contained upon his trembling finger, and repudiating the statement, marked “to be read first,” on account of its business-like appearance — glanced at the two first lines of Angela’s own letter, when the sound of hurrying feet and many chattering voices reminded him that he could expect no peace anywhere in the neighbourhood of the hotel. The second English mail was in, and all the crowd of passengers, who were at this time pouring out to the Cape to escape the English winter, had come, rejoicing, ashore, to eat, drink, be merry, and buy parrots and wicker chairs while the vessel coaled.
He groaned and fled, in his hurry leaving the statement on the bench on which he was seated.
Some half-mile or so away, to the left of the town, where the sea had encroached a little upon the shore of the island, there was a nook of peculiar loveliness. Here the giant hand of Nature had cleft a ravine in the mountains that make Madeira, down which a crystal streamlet trickled to the patch of yellow sand that edged the sea. Its banks sloped like a natural terrace, and were clothed with masses of maidenhair ferns interwoven with feathery grasses, whilst up above among the rocks grew aloes and every sort of flowering shrub.
Behind, clothed in forest, lay the mass of mountains, varied by the rich green of the vine-clad valleys, and in front heaved the endless ocean, broken only by one lonely rock that stood grimly out against the purpling glories of the evening sky. This spot Arthur had discovered in the course of his rambles with Mildred, and it was here that he bent his steps to be alone to read his letters. Scarcely had he reached the place, however, when he discovered, to his intense vexation, that he had left the enclosure in Angela’s letter upon the verandah at the hotel. But, luckily, it chanced that, within a few yards of the spot where he had seated himself, there was a native boy cutting walking-sticks from the scrub. He called to him in Portuguese, of which he had learnt a little, and, writing something on a card, told him to take it to the manager of the hotel, and to bring back what he would give him. Delighted at the chance of earning sixpence, the boy started at a run, and at last he was able to begin to read his letter.
Had Arthur not been in quite such a hurry to leave the hotel, he might have seen something which would have interested him, namely, a very lovely woman — so lovely, indeed, that everybody turned their heads to look at her as she passed, accompanied by another woman clad in a stiff black gown, not at all lovely, and rather ancient, but, for all that, well-favoured and pleasant to look on, being duly convoyed to their room in the hotel by his friend the manager.
“Well, thank my stars, here we be at last,” said the elderly stout person, with a gasp, as the door of the room closed upon the pair; “and it’s my opinion that here I shall stop till my dying day, for, as for getting on board one of those beastly ships again, I couldn’t do it, and that’s flat. Now look here, dearie, don’t you sit there and look frightened, but just set to and clean yourself up a bit. I’m off downstairs to see if I can find out about things; everybody’s sure to know everybody else’s business in a place like this, because, you see, the gossip can’t get out of a bit of an island, it must travel round and round till it ewaporates. I shall soon know if he is married or not, and if he is, why, what’s done can’t be undone, and it’s no use crying over spilt milk, and we’ll be off home, though I doubt I sha’n’t live to get there, and if he isn’t why so much the better.”
“Oh! nurse, do stop talking, and go quickly; can’t you see that I am in an agony of suspense? I must get it over one way or the other.”
“Hurry no man’s cattle, my dear, or I shall m............