CHAPTER I
OUR WAY ACROSS THE SEA
It was the close of a gusty day in late November when two persons sat watching the early dusk close down upon the outside world. A long line of light still lingered behind the purple hills upon which there stood out a few houses silhouetted against the primrose yellow of the sky. Within the nearer confines of the lawn the leafless trees looked dim and shadowy. The whirl of eddying leaves against the wall sounded ghostly, and the rattling of the vines against the side of the house suggested wintriness.
“And in Italy,” murmured the elder of the two women, “it will be all sunshine and light.”
“Italy?” There was a question in her companion’s voice.
“Yes, I am going there.”
“Alone? You surely are not going alone.”
“No, Sidney is going with me.”
“Sidney? Oh, I am jealous,” the girl responded petulantly. “As if it were not enough that Sidney has a grandfather with lashings of money, a beautiful home, a devoted brother, an indulgent mother, while I am a poverty-stricken wretch whose blessed little mother must turn and twist and contrive to make both ends meet;--as if all this were not enough but you, my own godmother, who is mine by birthright, must be spirited away from me for a mess of pottage,--for pottage read spaghetti; that’s what they live on in Italy, I believe,--and I must sit and smile during the process of spiriting.”
“But Gabriella, dear, Sidney is also my goddaughter.”
“Yes, worse luck; I always did hate her for it.”
“Gabriella! you do no such thing. You are devoted to Sidney.”
“I might be if she were not so aggressively well off.”
“She is the least aggressive person I know. You rarely find a more simple-hearted girl.”
“Clothe her in hand-me-downs, and she might be, but exaggerated wealth stands out in her tailor-made gowns and her hats.”
“That is where you err; the tailor-made gowns do not add one iota to her figure, and the hats are never becoming.”
Gabriella did not heed the interruption. “And in her furs and feathers and jewelry--”
“Which she never wears obtrusively. She will display no jewels on our travels, I can assure you. Don’t be cantankerous, Gabriella.”
“Oh, I must be. I always have had a grudge against Sidney since the day we were christened at the same font and she behaved so beautifully while I yelled like sin. Even then I must have had a foreknowledge of what our relative positions in life would be.”
“You are the silliest child, Gabriella.”
“But in spite of that fact you love me, don’t you, Gem?”
“Of course I do, and that is why I am going to take you abroad with me.”
“Dearest Gem, is this a make-believe such as you are so fond of getting up at this charmed hour, or have you suddenly fallen heir to a fortune, or what? Please explain yourself. When you speak in that assured manner of taking me to Europe I feel myself getting weak in the knees.”
Miss Cavendish laughed. “Will you positively go with me, Gabriella?”
“Will a duck swim? Oh, Gem of purest ray serene, do tell me what you are driving at. Speak seriously as one who would not trifle with sacred things. Please don’t be frivolous where such a subject is concerned. Sidney as Sidney is bad enough, but Sidney and you and Europe; I cannot endure the combination.”
Miss Cavendish leaned back in her chair and fixed her eyes upon the distant hills, now an irregular line against the fast-fading primrose yellow. “You know, Gabriella,” she began, “I have been thinking for a long time of going to Europe, but I didn’t want to go alone and I didn’t want to go with a casual companion. A dozen friends and acquaintances have proposed my joining some special party, but, my dear, there is no undertaking in life, except marriage, which involves such nicety of choice as the selection of a travelling companion. One is too fussy, another too delicate, a third interested in exactly the opposite things to those which interest you, still another cannot endure _pensions_ but insists upon hotels, or perhaps is nothing of a pedestrian but must take a carriage everywhere, and so on. I never realized how many objections could arise till I gave careful consideration to the merits and demerits of my various acquaintances. So the more I thought the matter over the more I felt inclined to venture alone with Sidney, if she would go, and you, if you could be persuaded to leave your native land.”
“Persuaded!” ejaculated Gabriella under her breath.
“So then,” Miss Cavendish continued, “although I know but little French, less German and no Italian, I am not afraid to personally conduct our small party. I believe we could travel more cheaply than if we were to join a company of regulation tourists; certainly we could be more independent, and the opportunity for adventure would be unlimited. When I broached my plan to Sidney,--you know I spent Thanksgiving with the Shaws,--she was most enthusiastic, and though I made certain stipulations, she agreed to everything and is in a state of great excitement over the prospect. Since her mother has never felt that there was a time that she could leave old Mr. Shaw, Sidney has yet to take her first trip abroad. Mrs. Shaw declares she would not willingly trust her with anyone but me, and Sidney has agreed to travel in my way, that is in a very economical manner which involves no superfluous expenditures, unless they be of a purely personal nature. So, you see, my dear, we shall all be on exactly the same footing.”
“Rather nice of Sid to agree to that, considering what she has to spend. But I don’t yet see my place in this scheme of things.”
“You will see,” Miss Cavendish went on. “I have been looking up travelling rates and _pensions_ and Baedekers, so, with this, that and the other, I know pretty well what can be done, and I believe a thousand dollars will cover our expenses for six months and give us a very good time.”
“A thousand dollars apiece, you mean?”
“No, a thousand dollars for the two of us. It will be cheaper for two to travel together than for one, and cheaper still for three. I don’t suppose that amount will buy us many Paris gowns or much Brussels lace, but I am pretty sure it will cover all but the luxuries. Now, I have the thousand dollars which I have set aside for this trip, and I shall be much happier if I can take both my goddaughters with me. Will you go?”
“But dearest, it seems perfectly sinful to spend all that money on me. Are you sure you ought to do it?”
“I’m very sure that I’d rather stay over there six months with you and Sidney than to go by myself, and I am also sure that I would much prefer your society to that of a party of strangers whose doxies might not be my doxies. When I mentioned your going to Sidney she was delighted. She spoke much more sweetly of you than you of her, though she does envy you your ready wit, your looks and your general adaptability.”
“I’ll sell them all for her ducats.”
“Because you know you can’t.”
“Sidney is a dear; I always loved her.”
“A moment ago you always hated her.”
“That was because I saw everything being poured into her lap. Now that I am to share her good times I love her. I love everybody. I love everything to the meanest worm that crawls. I never knew before what a broadly charitable spirit I possessed. It is a beautiful world and I well know that the loveliest spot in the universe is Italy. When do you think of sailing, Gem, dear?”
“About the middle of March.”
“And what shall I need?”
“I intend to take only such clothing as shall be necessary for three months travel through Italy and Switzerland. This can all be stowed away in a small hand trunk which will not have to be registered as we can carry it from place to place without having it put in the baggage car, or the luggage van, as they will call it. It can be toted across platforms by a porter who will put it in the rack over our heads and there it will be in plain sight all the way. One steamer trunk will do for the two of us; it can be stored, and be sent to us when we need it for our return trip. When we get to Paris, if fripperies so possess our souls that we need room for them, we can easily buy a light wicker trunk. I must confess to indulging in an anticipation of doing that very thing.”
“How delightful it all sounds,” said Gabriella, hugging her knees. “Are you sure it is not a make-believe; one of those lovely twilight dreams you always have been so fond of summoning for my entertainment, especially when I used to call you Auntie Belle, and before I discovered that you were a true gem. What a happy discovery it was when I grew so big that to call a woman fifteen years my senior, godmother seemed ridiculous, and I cut it down to G. M., which to my delight one day resolved itself into Gem. It is the nicest name in the world and just suits you, for if ever there were a gem it is you, dearest Isabella Cavendish, Auntie Belle, godmother, Gem. What a dear you have been to me ever since I got red in the face and doubled up my fists as if to fight the world, the flesh and the devil bodily, while I howled lustily in the arms of dear little Belle Cavendish, who had made my christening robe and who held me tight in spite of my squirmings and battlings with my mottled pink fists. Oh, I can see it all. I can see us later, too, when I was a witch of three, you a dainty young lady of eighteen, who used to take me to see good little Sidney Shaw. I can remember climbing all over you and weeping on your silken shoulder because Sidney would not let me wash her face. I can remember the hoodlum at eight, too, when I came to your house and slid down the haircloth cushions of the sofa till cushions and I came to the floor together and I knocked out a tooth which for days I had refused to have drawn though it fairly waggled with looseness. I can remember how dear you were to me that day; in fact there are days all along when you have pulled me out of difficulties and have stablished my goings, and now comes the crowning act of all. If I tried to thank you in the right way I couldn’t do it. All my thanks are inside, but they choke me when I try to say them.”
“Don’t try to say them, then. Suppose we light up and look over that pile of folders and plans on my desk. I purpose sailing by way of the Mediterranean directly to Naples. It will not be so cold nor so rough as the northern route.”
“Spring in Italy! Oh, goddess mother, you are indeed a fairy godmother.”
Miss Cavendish laughed. “What a contradiction of terms. If you lose your wits at this early stage of the proceedings, what will you do when we are really landed at Naples?”
“Oh, it sounds so delicious. I am actually cold and shivery. Just wait a minute till I get my breath before we tackle that dear delightful Baedeker. How familiar it will be before we are through with it. Ah, I am glad I have not outlived my enthusiasms. Usually it is so much easier to dream than to do, but now the doing will exceed the joy of the dreaming.”