And there on the right was Posilippo. Was it not a dream of beauty? And turn this way: Villa Reale; that is the Royal Palace where the King and Queen live—the Queen, daughter to the great Empress Maria Theresa. And see how we are guarded: Uovo and Nuovo, the great fort-dragons to protect the Sleeping Beauty, Naples! And that is San Elmo beyond. Yes, and Emma shall be taken in our own boat to enjoy the shining city from the shining sea. Will she enjoy it? Will she be content and happy?
“I will, I will indeed!” cries Emma stoutly, and straight-way bursts into tears.
“For it’s my birthday,” she sobs, “and I’m very low away from him. Oh, Sir William, he would always stay at home that day and smile on me, and be so good. Oh, to think that this day I should be so far from him. I don’t see as how I can live till October, for October it must be, if not September. My birthday! and no word from him.”
She looked up terrified, drowned in tears, lest she should have done some harm to Greville with these lamentations—and the rudeness too, when so much trouble had been taken for her!
“Forgive me!” she said, panting still with sobs, and leaning instinctively towards him for support and help.
“Forgive you, my dear Emma, when you yourself know the bond between your Greville and me! Could I respect you as I do if you could leave him without a regret? But your birthday is not forgotten, never shall be while you grace my roof. Look here!”
He dried the tears with the little cobweb of a handkerchief on her knee, and put a wet curl tenderly back behind her ear; even stooped and kissed the soft wet lashes as if she had been a child.
“Look now, do you see anything in the room that doesn’t belong to it; that isn’t furniture, that isn’t ornament, that isn’t beautiful in itself, but may hold something charming for all that? Look well and be sure!”
She brightened like a doubtful moon in clouds, and looked about her still holding his hand. She was a little young daughter now with a kind indulgent father. That was what she felt herself in every fibre, and played the part to admiration. A box, long and shallow, with the fold of a silk curtain lying across it as if partly to hide it. That was the intruder. She pointed with the disengaged hand as if it were part of a charming game and drew him towards it.
“I can’t wait! What is it?” she said in a whisper.