A Voyage of Consolation by Sara Jeannette Duncan


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Page 31

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 suspicion, and said it was much better that young people
should discover their unsuitability to one another before marriage than
after. "I can conceive nothing more shocking than divorce," said Mrs.
Portheris, and her tone indicated that I had probably narrowly escaped
it.

We were rather a large party as we made our way to the elevator, and I
found myself behind the others in conversation with Dicky Dod. It was a
happiness to come thus unexpectedly upon Dicky Dod--he gave forth all
that is most exhilarating in our democratic civilisation, and he was in
excellent spirits. As the young lady of Mrs. Portheris's party joined us
I thought I found a barometric reading in Mr. Dod's countenance that
explained the situation. "I remember you," she said shyly, and there was
something in this innocent audacity and the blush which accompanied it
that helped me to remember her too. "You came to see mamma in Half
Moon-street once. I am Isabel."

"Dear me!" I replied, "so you are. I remember--you had to go upstairs,
hadn't you. Please don't mind," I went on hastily as Isabel looked
distressed, "you couldn't help it. I was very unexpected, and I might
have been dangerous. How--how you've _grown_!" I really couldn't think
of anything else to say.

Isabel blushed again, Dicky observing with absorbed adoration. It _was_
lovely colour. "You know I haven't really," she said, "it's all one's
long frocks and doing up one's hair, you know."

"Miss Portheris only came out two months ago," remarked Mr. Dod, with
the effect of announcing that Venus had just arisen from the foam.

"Come, young people," Mrs. Portheris exclaimed from the lift; "we are
waiting for you." Poppa and momma and Mr. Mafferton were already inside.
Mrs. Portheris stood in the door. As Isabel entered, I saw that Mr. Dod
was making the wildest efforts to communicate something to me with his
left eye.

"Come, young people," repeated Mrs. Portheris.

"Do you think it's safe for so many?" asked Dicky doubtfully. "Suppose
anything should _give_, you know!"

Mrs. Portheris looked undecided. Momma, from the interior, immediately
proposed to get out.

"Safe as a church," remarked the Senator.

"What _do_ you mean, Dod?" demanded Mr. Mafferton.

"Well, it's like this," said Dicky; "Miss Wick is rather nervous about
overcrowding, and I think it's better to run no risks myself. You all go
down, and we'll follow you next trip. See?"

"I suppose you will hardly allow _that_, Mrs. Wick," said our relation,
with ominous portent.

"_Est ce que vous voulez � d�scendre, monsieur?_" inquired the official
attached to the elevator, with some impatience.

"I don't see what there is to object to--I suppose it _would_ be safer,"
momma replied anxiously, and the official again demanded if we were
going down.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 16th Jan 2026, 20:50