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Page 63
"Still," he said, "I think the express is the better gun."
"Oh, is an 'express' a gun?" exclaimed the Picture, with sudden
interest. "Of course, I might have known."
Stuart turned in his chair, and surveyed the Picture in some surprise.
"But, my dear girl," he remonstrated, kindly, "why didn't you ask, if
you didn't know what I was talking about? What did you suppose it
was?"
"I didn't know," said the Picture; "I thought it was something to do
with his luggage. Abyssinia sounds so far away," she explained,
smiling sweetly. "You can't expect one to be interested in such queer
places, can you?"
"No," Stuart answered, reluctantly, and looking steadily at the fire,
"I suppose not. But you see, my dear," he said, "I'd have gone with
him if I hadn't married you, and so I am naturally interested in his
outfit. They wanted me to make a comparative study of the little
semi-independent states down there, and of how far the Italian
Government allows them to rule themselves. That's what I was to have
done."
But the Picture hastened to reassure him. "Oh, you mustn't think," she
exclaimed, quickly, "that I mean to keep you at home. I love to
travel, too. I want you to go on exploring places just as you've
always done, only now I will go with you. We might do the Cathedral
towns, for instance."
"The what?" gasped Stuart, raising his head. "Oh, yes, of course," he
added, hurriedly, sinking back into his chair with a slightly
bewildered expression. "That would be very nice. Perhaps your mother
would like to go, too; it's not a dangerous expedition, is it? I
_was_ thinking of taking you on a trip through the South
Seas--but I suppose the Cathedral towns are just as exciting. Or we
might even penetrate as far into the interior as the English lakes and
read Wordsworth and Coleridge as we go."
Miss Delamar's understudy observed him closely for a moment, but he
made no sign, and so she turned her eyes again to the fire with a
slightly troubled look. She had not a strong sense of humor, but she
was very beautiful.
Stuart's conscience troubled him for the next few moments, and he
endeavored to make up for his impatience of the moment before by
telling the Picture how particularly well she was looking.
"It seems almost selfish to keep it all to myself," he mused.
"You don't mean," inquired the Picture, with tender anxiety, "that you
want any one else here, do you? I'm sure I could be content to spend
every evening like this. I've had enough of going out and talking to
people I don't care about. Two seasons," she added, with the superior
air of one who has put away childish things, "was quite enough of it
for me."
"Well, I never took it as seriously as that," said Stuart, "but, of
course, I don't want any one else here to spoil our evening. It is
perfect."
He assured himself that it _was_ perfect, but he wondered what
was the loyal thing for a married couple to do when the conversation
came to a dead stop. And did the conversation come to a stop because
they preferred to sit in silent sympathy and communion, or because
they had nothing interesting to talk about? Stuart doubted if silence
was the truest expression of the most perfect confidence and sympathy.
He generally found when he was interested, that either he or his
companion talked all the time. It was when he was bored that he sat
silent. But it was probably different with married people. Possibly
they thought of each other during these pauses, and of their own
affairs and interests, and then he asked himself how many interests
could one fairly retain with which the other had nothing to do?
"I suppose," thought Stuart, "that I had better compromise and read
aloud. Should you like me to read aloud?" he asked, doubtfully.
The Picture brightened perceptibly at this, and said that she thought
that would be charming. "We might make it quite instructive," she
suggested, entering eagerly into the idea. "We ought to agree to read
so many pages every night. Suppose we begin with Guizot's 'History of
France.' I have always meant to read that, the illustrations look so
interesting."
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