A Voyage of Consolation by Sara Jeannette Duncan (best way to read books .TXT) 📕

pleased with it, not only because it was the cheapest thing in Paris at five cents, but because, as he said himself, it contained an amount of enthusiasm not usually available at any price.

The Senator thought, as we entered the elevator at the first story, that the accommodation compared very well indeed with anything in his experience. He had only one criticism--there was no smoking-room. We had a slight difficulty with momma at the second story--she did not wish to change her elevator. Inside she said she felt perfectly secure, but the tower itself she knew _must_ waggle at that height when once you stepped out. In the end, however, we persuaded her not to go down before she had made the ascent, and she rose to the top with her eyes shut. When we finally got out, however, the sight of numbers of young ladies selling Eiffel Tower mementoes steadied her nerves. She agreed with poppa that business premises would never let on anything but the most stable basis.

"It's exactly as Bramley said," remarked the Senator. "You're up so high that the scenery, so far as Paris is concerned, becomes perfectly ridiculous. It might as well be a map."

"_Don't_ look over, Alexander," said momma. "It will fill you with a wild desire to throw yourself down. It is said _always_ to have that effect."

"'The past ends in this plain at your feet,'" quoted poppa critically from the guide-book, "'the future will there be fulfilled.' I suppose they did feel a bit uppish when they'd got as high as this--but you'd think France was about the only republic at present doing business, wouldn't you?"

I pointed out the Pantheon down below and St. Etienne du Mont, and poppa was immediately filled with a poignant regret that we had spent so much time seeing public buildings on foot. "Whereas," said he, "from our present point of view we could have done them all in ten minutes. As it is, we shall be in a position to say we've seen everything there is to be seen in Paris. Bramley won't be able to tell us it's a pity we've missed anything. However," he continued, "we must be conscientious about it. I've no desire to play it low down on Bramley. Let us walk round and pick out the places of interest he's most likely to expect to catch us on, and look at them separately. I should hate to think I wasn't telling the truth about a thing like that."

We walked round and specifically observed the "Ecole des Beaux Arts," the "Palais d'Industrie," "Liberty Enlightening the World," and other objects, poppa carefully noting against each of them "seen from Eiffel Tower." As we made our way to the river side we noticed four other people, two ladies and two gentlemen, looking at the military balloon hanging over Meudon. They all had their backs to us, and there was to me something dissimilarly familiar about three of those backs. While I was trying to analyse it one of the gentlemen turned, and caught sight of poppa. In another instant the highest elevation yet made by engineering skill was the scene of three impetuous American handclasps, and four impulsive American voices were saying, "Why how _do_ you do!" The gentleman was Mr. Richard Dod of Chicago, known to our family without interruption since he wore long clothes. Mr. Dod had come into his patrimony and simultaneously disappeared in the direction of Europe six months before, since when we had only heard vaguely that he had lost most of it, but was inalterably cheerful; and there was nobody, apparently, he expected so little or desired so much to see in Paris as the Senator, momma and me. Poppa called him "Dick, my boy," momma called him "my dear Dicky," I called him plain "Dick," and when this had been going on for, possibly, five minutes, the older and larger of the two ladies of the party swung round with a majesty I at once associated with my earlier London experiences, and regarded us through her _pince nez_. There was no mistaking her disapproval. I had seen it before. We were Americans and she was Mrs. Portheris of Half Moon-street, Piccadilly. I saw that she recognised me and was trying to make up her mind whether, in view of the complication of Mr. Dod, to bow or not. But the woman who hesitates is lost, even though she be a British matron of massive prejudices and a figure to match. In Mrs. Portheris's instant of vacillation, I stepped forward with such enthusiasm that she was compelled to take down her _pince nez_ and hold out a superior hand. I took it warmly, and turned to my parents with a joy which was not in the least affected. "Momma," I exclaimed, "try to think of the very last person who would naturally cross your mind--our relation, Mrs. Portheris. Poppa, allow me to introduce you to your aunt--Mrs. Portheris. Your far distant nephew from Chicago, Mr. Joshua Peter Wick."

It was a moment to be remembered--we all said so afterwards. Everything hung upon Mrs. Portheris's attitude. But it was immediately evident that Mrs. Portheris considered parents of any kind excusable, even commendable! Her manner said as much--it also implied, however, that she could not possibly be held responsible for transatlantic connections by a former marriage. Momma was nervous, but collected. She bowed a distant Wastgaggle bow, an heirloom in the family, which gave Mrs. Portheris to understand that if any cordiality was to characterise the occasion, it would have to emanate from her. Besides, Mrs. Portheris was poppa's relation, and would naturally have to be guarded against. Poppa, on the other hand, was cordiality itself--he always is.

"Why, is that so?" said poppa, looking earnestly at Mrs. Portheris and firmly retaining her hand. "Is this my very own Aunt Caroline?"

"At one time," responded Mrs. Portheris with a difficult smile, "and, I fear, by marriage only."

"Ah, to be sure, to be sure! Poor Uncle Jimmy gave place to another. But we won't say anything more about that. Especially as you've been equally unfortunate with your second," said poppa sympathetically. "Well, I'm sure I'm pleased to meet you--glad to shake you by the hand." He gave that member one more pressure as he spoke and relinquished it.

"It is extremely unlooked for," replied his Aunt Caroline, and looked at Mr. Dod, who quailed, as if he were in some way responsible for it. "I confess I am not in the habit of meeting my connections promiscuously abroad." When we came to analyse the impropriety of this it was difficult, but we felt as a family very disreputable at the time. Mr. Dod radiated sympathy for us. Poppa looked concerned.

"The fact is," said he, "we ought to have called on you at your London residence, Aunt Caroline. And if we had been able to make a more protracted stay than just about long enough, as you might say, to see what time it was, we would have done so. But you see how it was."

"Pray don't mention it," said Mrs. Portheris. "It is very unlikely that I should have been at home."

"Then _that's_ all right," poppa replied with relief.

"London has so many monuments," murmured Dicky Dod, regarding Mrs. Portheris's impressive back. "It is quite impossible to visit them all."

"The view from here," our relation remarked in a leave-taking tone, "is very beautiful, is it not?"

"It's very extensive," replied poppa, "but I notice the inhabitants round about seem to think it embraces the biggest part of civilisation. I admit it's a good-sized view, but that's what I call enlarging upon it."

"Come, Mr. Dod," commanded Mrs. Portheris, "we must rejoin the rest of our party. They are on the other side."

"Certainly," said Dicky. "But you must give me your address, Mrs. Wick. Thanks. And there now! I've been away from Illinois a good long time, but I'm not going to forget to congratulate Chicago on getting you once more into the United States Senate, Mr. Wick. I did what I could in my humble way, you know."

"I _know_ you did, Richard," returned poppa warmly, "and if there's any little Consulship in foreign parts that it would amuse you to fill----"

Mrs. Portheris, in the act of exchanging unemotional farewells with mamma, turned round. "Do I understand that you are now a _Senator_?" she inquired. "I had no idea of it. It is certainly a distinction--an American distinction, of course--but you can't help that. It does you credit. I trust you will use your influence to put an end to the Mormons."

"As far as that goes," poppa returned with deprecation, "I believe my business does take me to the Capitol pretty regularly now. But I'd be sorry to think any more of myself on that account. Your nephew, Aunt Caroline, is just the same plain American he was before."

"I hope you will vote to exterminate them," continued Mrs. Portheris with decision. "Dear me! A Senator--I suppose you must have a great deal of influence in your own country! Ah, here are the truants! We might all go down in the lift together."

The truants appeared looking conscious. One of them, when he saw me, looked astonished as well, and I cannot say that I myself was perfectly unmoved when I realised that it was Mr. Mafferton! There was no reason why Mr. Mafferton should not have been at the top of the Eiffel Tower in the society of Mrs. Portheris, Mr. Dod, and another, that afternoon, but for the moment it seemed to me uniquely amazing. We shook hands, however--it was the only thing to do--and Mr. Mafferton said this was indeed a surprise as if it were the most ordinary thing possible. Mrs. Portheris looked on at our greeting with an air of objecting to things she had not been taught to expect, and remarked that she had no idea Mr. Mafferton was one of my London acquaintances. "But then," she continued in a tone of just reproach, "I saw so little of you during your season in town that you might have made the Queen's acquaintance and all the Royal Family, and I should have been none the wiser."

It was too much to expect of one's momma that she should let an opportunity like that slip, and mine took hold of it with both hands.

"I believe my daughter did make Victoria's acquaintance, Mrs. Portheris," said she, "and we were all very pleased about it. Your Queen has a very good reputation in our country. We think her a wise sovereign and a perfect lady. I suppose you often go to her Drawing Rooms."

Mrs. Portheris wore the expression of one passing through the Stone Age to a somewhat more mobile period. "I really think," she said, "I should have been made aware of that. To have had a young relative presented without one's knowledge seems _too_ extraordinary. No," she continued, turning to poppa, "the only thing I heard of this young lady--it came to me in a _very_ roundabout manner--was that she had gone home to be _married_. Was not that your intention?" asked Mrs. Portheris, turning to me.

"It was," I said. There was nothing else to say.

"Then may I inquire if you fulfilled it?"

"I didn't, Mrs. Portheris," said I. I was very red, but not so red as Mr. Mafferton. "Circumstances interfered." I was prepared for an inquiry as to what the circumstances were, and privately made up my mind that Mrs. Portheris was too distant a relation to be gratified with such information in the publicity of the Eiffel Tower. But she merely looked at me with