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

no longer permit her daughter to observe their behaviour. "They obtrude their domestic relations," said Mrs. Portheris, "in the most disgusting way. They are continually patting each other. Quite middle-aged, too! And calling each other 'Leibchen,' and other things which may be worse. My poor Isabel is dreadfully embarrassed, for, of course, she can't always look out of the window. And as she understands the language, I can't possibly tell _what_ she may overhear!"

We made room for Isabel, but the train to Mayence was crowded that day, and before we arrived we had ample reason to believe that conjugal affection is not only at home but abroad in Germany. The Senator, at one point, threatened to travel on the engine to avoid it. He used, I think the language of exaggeration about it. He said it was the most objectionable article made in Germany. But I did not notice that Isabel devoted herself at all seriously to looking out of the window.


CHAPTER XXVII.

"He tells me," said Miss Callis, "that you are to give him his answer at Cologne."

"Does he, indeed?" said I. We were floating down the Rhine in the society of our friends, two hundred and fifty other floaters, and a string band. We had left the battlements of Bingen, and the Mouse Tower was in sight. As we had already acquired the legend, and were sitting behind the smoke stack, there was no reason why we should not discuss Mr. Mafferton.

"I suppose he does not, by any chance, mention an alternative lady," I said carelessly.

"I don't know," said Miss Callis, "that I should be disposed to listen to him if he did. He would have to put it in some other light."

"Why should you object?" I asked. "Isabel is quite a proper person to marry him. Much more so, I often think, than I."

"Oh!" said Miss Callis without meaning to. "I think he has outgrown that taste. In fact, he told me so."

"He is for ever seeking a fresh bosom for a confidence!" I cried.

Miss Callis looked at me with more interest than she would have wished to express.

"What do you really think of him?" she asked. "I sometimes feel as if I had known you for years," and she took my hand.

I gave hers a gentle pressure, and edged a little nearer. "He has good shoulders," I remarked critically.

"You would hardly marry him for his _shoulders_!"

"It doesn't seem quite enough," I admitted, "but then--his information is always so accurate."

"If you think you would like living with an encyclopedia." Miss Callis had begun to look embarrassed by my hand, but I still permitted it to nestle confidingly in hers.

"He pronounces all his g's," I said, "and--did you ever see him in a silk hat?"

"I don't think you are really attached to him, dear." (The "dear" was a really creditable sacrifice to the situation.)

"I sometimes think," I murmured, "that one never knows one's own heart until some sudden circumstance puts it to the test. Now if I had a rival--in you, for instance--and I suddenly saw myself losing--but, of course, that is impossible so far as you are concerned. Because of the Count."

"The Count isn't in it," said Miss Callis firmly. "At least at present."

"But," I protested, "somebody must provide for him! I was so happy in the thought that you had undertaken it."

Miss Callis gave me back my hand. She looked as if she would have liked to throw it overboard.

"As you say," she said, "it is a little difficult to make up one's mind. Don't you think those rocks to the right may be the Lorelei? I must go and tell Mrs. Malt. She won't be fit to travel with for a week if she misses the Lorelei." And Miss Callis left me to reflect upon the inconsistencies of my sex.

"Do you realise," said Dicky, as, with an assumed air of nonchalance, he sauntered up and took her chair, "that we shall be in Cologne in five hours?"

"Fateful Cologne," I said. "There are Roman remains, I believe, as well as the Cathedral and the scent. Also a Museum of Industrial Art, but we'll skip that."

"We'll skip all of it," replied Mr. Dod, with determination, "you and I and Isabel. The train for Paris leaves at nine precisely."

"Haven't you made up your minds to let me off," I pleaded. "I am sure you would be happier alone. It's so unusual to elope with two ladies."

"You don't seem to realise how Isabel has been brought up," Dicky returned patiently. "She can't travel alone with me, don't you see, until we are married. Afterwards she'll chaperone you back to your party again. So it will be all right for _you_, don't you see?"

I was obliged to say I saw, and we arranged the details. We would reach Cologne about six, and Isabel and I, who would share a room as usual, were secretly to pack one bag between us, which Dicky would smuggle out of the hotel and send to the station. Isabel was to be fatigued and dine in her room; I was to leave the _table d'hote_ early to solace her, Dicky was to dine at a _cafe_ and meet us at the station. We would put out the lights and lock the door of the apartment on our departure, and the chambermaid with hot water in the morning would be the first to discover our flight. We only regretted that we could not be there to see the astonishment of the chambermaid. "I won't fail you," I assured Mr. Dod, "but what about Isabel? Isabel is essential; in fact, I won't consent to this elopement without her."

"Isabel," said Dicky dubiously, "is all right, so far as her intentions go. But she'd be the better for a little stiffening. Would you mind----"

I groaned in spirit, but went in search of Isabel, thinking of phrases that might stiffen her. I found her looking undecided, with a pencil and a slip of paper.

"How lucky you are," I said diplomatically, sinking into the nearest chair, "to be going to wind up your trip on the Continent in such a delightful way. It will be--ah--something to remember all your life."

"Oh, I suppose so," said Isabel plaintively, "but I should _so_ much prefer to be done in church. If mamma would only consent!"

"She never would," I declared, for I felt that I must see Isabel Mrs. Dod within the next day or two at all costs.

"A registry office sounds so uninteresting. I suppose one just goes--as one is."

"I don't think veils and trains are worn," I observed, "except by persons of high rank who do not approve of the marriage service. I don't know what the Marquis of Queensberry might do, or Mr. Grant Allen."

"Of course, the ceremony doesn't matter to _them_," replied Isabel intelligently, "because they would just wear morning dress _anywhere_."

"Looking at it that way, they haven't much to lose," I conceded.

"And no wedding cake," grieved Isabel, "and no reception at the house of the bride's mother. And you can't have your picture in the _Queen_."

"There would be a difficulty," I said, "about the descriptive part."

"And no favours for the coachman, and no trousseau----"

"I wonder," I said, "whether, under those circumstances, it's really worth while."

"Oh, well!" said Isabel.

"It's a night to Paris, and a morning to Dover," I said. "We will wait for the others at Dover--I fancy they'll hurry--that'll be another day. I'll take one _robe de nuit_, Isabel, three pocket handkerchiefs, one brush and comb, and tooth brush. You shall have all the rest of the bag."

"You are a perfect love," exclaimed Miss Portheris, with the most touching gratitude.

"We will share the soap," I continued, "until you are married. Afterwards----"

"Oh, you can have it then," said Isabel, "of course," and she looked at the Castle of Rheinfels and blushed beautifully.


CHAPTER XXVIII.

"There was only one thing that disappointed me," Mrs. Malt was saying at the dinner table of the Cologne hotel, "and that wasn't so much what you would call a disappointment as a surprise. White windows-blinds in a robber castle on the Rhine I did not expect to see."

I slipped away before momma had time to announce and explain her disappointments, but I heard her begin. Then I felt safe, for criticism of the Rhine is absorbing matter for conversation. The steamer's custom of giving one stewed plums with chicken is an affront to civilisation to last a good twenty minutes by myself. I tried to occupy and calm Isabel's mind with it as we walked over to the station, under the twin towers of the Cathedral, but with indifferent success. To add to her agitation at this crisis of her life, the top button came off her glove, and when that happened I felt the inutility of words.

We passed the policemen on the Cathedral square with affected indifference. We believed we were not liable to arrest, but policemen, when one is eloping, have a forbidding look. We refrained, by mutual arrangement, from turning once to look back for possible pursuers, but that is not a thing I would undertake to do again under similar circumstances. We even had the hardihood to buy a box of chocolates on the way, that is, Isabel bought them, while I watched current events at the confectioner's door. The station was really only about seven minutes' walk from the hotel, but it seemed an hour before I was able to point out Dicky, alert and expectant, on the edge of the platform behind the line of cabs.

"So near the fulfilment of his hopes, poor fellow," I remarked.

"Yes," concurred Isabel, "but do you know I almost wish he wasn't coming."

"Don't tell him so, whatever you do," I exclaimed. "I know Dicky's sensitive nature, and it is just as likely as not that he would take you at your word. And I will not elope with you alone."

I need not have been alarmed. Isabel had no intention of reducing the party at the last moment. I listened for protests and hesitations when they met, but all I heard was, "_Have_ you got the bag?"

Dicky had the bag, the tickets, the places, everything. He had already assumed, though only a husband of to-morrow, the imperative and responsible connection with Isabel's arrangements. He told her she was to sleep with her head toward the engine, that she was to drink nothing but soda-water at any of the stations, and that she must not, on any account, leave the carriage when we changed for Paris until he came for her. It would be my business to see that these instructions were carried out.

"What shall I do," I asked, "if she cries in the night?"

But Dicky was sweeping us toward the waiting-room, and did not hear me. He placed us carefully in the seats nearest the main door, which opened upon the departure platform, full of people hurrying to and fro, and of the more leisurely movement of shunting trains. The lamps were lighted, though twilight still hung about; the scene was pleasantly exciting. I said to Isabel that I never thought I should enjoy an elopement so much.

"_I_ shall enjoy settling down," she replied thoughtfully. "Dicky has promised me that all the china shall be hand-painted."

"You won't mind my leaving you for five seconds," said Mr. Dod, suddenly