A Voyage of Consolation Part 29

Portheris, "I am longing to hear their experiences since we parted.

Where are you? The Colomba? Why what a coincidence! We are there, too!

How small the world is!"

"Then you have only just arrived," said Mr. Dod to Miss Portheris, who had turned away her head, and was regarding the distant mountains.

"Yes."

"By the 11.30 p.m.?"

"No. By the 2.30 p.m."

"Had you a pleasant journey up from Naples?"

"It was rather dusty."

I saw that something quite awful was going on and conversed volubly with Mrs. Portheris and Mr. Mafferton to give d.i.c.ky a chance, but in a moment I, too, felt a refrigerating influence proceeding from the floral hat and the bun for which I could not account.

"Where have you been?" inquired d.i.c.ky, "if I may ask."

"At Vallombrosa."

There was also a parasol and it twisted indifferently.

"Ah--among the leaves! And were they as thick as William says they are?"

"I don't understand you." And, indeed, this levity a.s.sorted incomprehensively with the black despair that sat on d.i.c.ky's countenance. It was really very painful in spite of Mrs. Portheris's unusual humanity and Mr. Mafferton's obvious though embarra.s.sed joy, and as Mrs. Portheris's cab drove up at the moment I made a tentative attempt to bring the interview to a close. "Mr. Dod and I are walking,"

I said.

"Ah, these little strolls!" exclaimed Mrs. Portheris, with benignant humour. "I suppose we must condone them now!" and she waved her hand, rolling away, as if she gave us a British matron's blessing.

"Oh, don't!" I cried. "Don't condone them--you mustn't!" But my words fell short in a cloud of dust, and even d.i.c.ky, wrapped in his tragedy, failed to receive an impression from them.

"How," he demanded pa.s.sionately, "do you account for it?"

"Account for what?" I shuffled.

"The size of her head--the frost--the whole bally conversation!"

propounded d.i.c.ky, with tears in his eyes.

I have really a great deal of feeling, and I did not rebuke these terms.

Besides, I could see only one way out of it, and I was occupied with the best terms in which to present it to d.i.c.ky. So I said I didn't know, and reflected.

"She isn't the same girl!" he groaned.

"Men are always talking in the funny columns of the newspapers," I remarked absently, "about how much better they can throw a stone and sharpen a pencil than we can."

Mr. Dod looked injured. "Oh, well," he said, "if you prefer to talk about something else----"

"But they can't see into a sentimental situation any further than into a board fence," I continued serenely. "My dear d.i.c.k, Isabel thinks you're engaged. So does her mamma. So does Mr. Mafferton."

"Who to?" exclaimed Mr. Dod, in ungrammatical amazement.

"I looked at him reproachfully. Don't be such an owl!" I said.

Light streamed in upon d.i.c.ky's mind. "To you!" he exclaimed. "Great Scott!"

"Preposterous, isn't it?" I said.

"I should e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e! Well, no, I mean--I shouldn't e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e, but--oh, you know what I mean----"

"I do," I said. "Don't apologise."

"What in my aunt's wardrobe do they think that for?"

"You left their party and joined ours rather abruptly at Pompeii," I said.

"Had to!"

"Isabel didn't know you had to. If she tried to find out, I fancy she was told little girls shouldn't ask questions. It was Lot's wife who really came between you, but Isabel wouldn't have been jealous of Lot's wife."

"I suppose not," said d.i.c.ky doubtfully.

"Do you remember meeting the Misses Bingham in the Ufizzi? and telling them you were going to be----"

"That's so."

"You didn't give them enough details. And they told me they were going to Vallombrosa. And when Miss Cora said good-bye to me she told me you were a dear or something."

"Why didn't you say I wasn't?"

"d.i.c.ky, if you are going to a.s.sume that it was my fault----"

"Only one decent hotel--hardly anybody in it--foregathered with old lady Portheris--told every mortal thing they knew! Oh," groaned d.i.c.ky. "Why was an old maid ever born!"

"She never was," I couldn't help saying, but I might as well not have said it. d.i.c.ky was rapidly formulating his plan of action.

"I'll tell her straight out, after dinner," he concluded, "and her mother, too, if I get a chance."

"Do you know what will happen?" I asked.

"You never know what will happen," replied d.i.c.ky, blushing.

"Mrs. and Miss Portheris and Mr. Mafferton will leave the Hotel Colomba for parts unknown, by the earliest train to-morrow morning."

"But Mrs. Portheris declares that we're to be a happy family for the rest of the trip."

"Under the impression that you are disposed of, an impression that _might_ be allowed to----"

"My heart," said d.i.c.ky impulsively, "may be otherwise engaged, but my alleged mind is yours for ever. Mamie, you have a great head."