little more
firmly than was absolutely necessary, was he much to blame?

"Good-night," he said. "Good-night, Signorina," he added, bowing to
Margharita. "I shall come to-morrow afternoon."

Then he turned away, and walked with long swinging steps back to the
hotel.

CHAPTER VI

"THE BITTER SPRINGS OF ANGER AND FEAR"

"Margharita!"

She had found her way into a lonely corner of the villa grounds, and,
with her head resting upon her hands, she was gazing across the blue
sunlit waters of the bay. Below, hidden by the thickly-growing shrubs,
was the white, dusty road, and the voice which disturbed her thoughts
seemed to come from it. She pushed the white flowering rhododendrons on
one side, and peered through.

"Leonardo!" she exclaimed. "Leonardo!"

She seemed surprised to see him standing there, pale, dusty, and with a
great weariness shining out of his black eyes, and it did not occur to
her to offer him any greeting. She could not say that she was glad to
see him, and yet her heart ached when she looked into his pale,
sorrowful face. So she was silent.

"Are you alone?" he asked.

"Yes. Adrienne is in the house, I believe."

"Then I am coming in."

She looked troubled, but she could not send him away. He clambered over
the low paling, and, pushing back the boughs of the shrubs which grew
between them, made his way up the bank to her side.

"Have you been away?" she asked.

"Yes, I have been home. Home," he repeated bitterly. "I have wandered
through the woods, and I have climbed the hills where we spent our
childhood. I have looked upon the old scenes, and my heart is broken."

Her eyes filled with tears. For a moment her thoughts, too, went back to
the days when they had been children together, and he had been her hero
brother. How time had changed them both, and how far apart they had
drifted. They could never be the same again. She knew it quite well.
There had grown up a great barrier between them. She could not even
pretend to sympathize with him, although her heart was still full of
pity.

"Leonardo, I am sorry," she whispered. "How is it, I wonder, that all
through life you seem to have set your heart upon things which are
impossible."

"It is fate!"

"Fate! But you are a man, and man should control fate."

"Have I not tried?" he answered bitterly. "Tell me, do I so easily
relinquish my great desire? Why am I here? Because I have said to myself
that I will not be denied. Adrien