At this time, Lord Effingham was the engrossing subject of scandal and gossip at Naples; his luxurious villa, rarely opened to any, save a few select companions, his unrivalled yacht, his strange and almost lawless doings, indicative of a character half cynic, half epicurean, but wholly English in its energy and profusion, each furnished an inexhaustible theme of wonder and exaggeration, to the opera boxes and conversaziones. Rarely he honoured the _beau-monde_ of Naples with his presence; but shortly after Lady Desmond's arrival, some national anniversary dinner, at the English Ambassador's, drew him from his seclusion; and whether he found society more agreeable, after this interval of retirement, or that the proud indifference of Lady Desmond's manner interested a fancy cloyed by adulation, is problematical; but from that period he was more frequently to be met in the brilliant circles adorned by the presence of the beautiful widow, but whether the slumber of her heart, had been broken by the eccentric Englishman, before whose commanding spirit her own involuntarily bent, none could tell, though Mrs. Wentworth surmised. "But even Italy one tires of," said Lord Effingham, rising to depart after a lengthened visit; "and I confess I am ready to try England, at least, while summer and the novelty of my late revered uncle's villa last; besides, had I been undecided, your presence would have fixed me." Lady Desmond smiled. "I fear I frightened away a very studious young lady, whom I found deep in the perusal of some trash--Dickens, I believe," taking up the number Kate had been reading. "My cousin, Miss Vernon--poor Kate is not in the mood for any profound literature; she has had great sorrows. But I trust you will sometimes look in on us, it will do us both good." "I shall certainly make my _début_ in the, to me, new character of consoler." And he bowed ironically. "My sweet god-daughter will teach you not to be satirical--she is so good." "Your god-daughter! why you could not have learned your own catechism when she was christened." "I was very young, and was only a proxy; but I have called her my god-child ever since." "Well, _addio_ Lady Desmond, I will bring you some flowers to-morrow; I see you have no conservatory." And he departed. Kate was rather startled by the expression, half fright, half exultation in Mrs. O'Toole's countenance, as she entered her room before dinner, to assist her in dressing. "Och thin, Miss Kate, agrah; who do you think has just rode off, on a horse fit for a prence?" "I am sure I cannot imagine. Oh, Lord Effingham, I suppose." "Didn't I tell ye, he was a lord? faith, I niver was mistaken in wan yet; and fur all I spoke up so bould, ses I to meself, he's a lord, no less." "But, nurse, what do you mean? who did you speak up bold to?" "To the earl there, him that has jist rode off." "Where?" demanded Kate, fearful of some strange outbreak on the part of Mrs. O'Toole.