Part 4 (1/2)
The chair next hers was occupied by a pretty, dark-eyed, and very lady-like woman, with whom Lionel had apparently made an acquaintance; for he said, as he tucked Imogen's rugs about her, ”Here's my sister at last, you see;” which off-hand introduction the lady acknowledged with a pleasant smile, saying she was glad to see Miss Young able to be up.
Her manner was so unaffected and cordial that Imogen's stiffness melted under its influence, and before she knew it they were talking quite like old acquaintances.
Imogen was struck by the sweet voice of the stranger, with its well-bred modulations, and also by the good taste and perfection of all her little appointments, from the down pillow at top of her chair to the fur-trimmed shoes on a pair of particularly pretty feet at the other end. She set her down in her own mind as a London dame of fas.h.i.+on,--perhaps a countess, or a Lady Something-or-other, who was going out to see America.
”Your brother tells me this is your first voyage,” said the lady.
”Yes. He has been out before, but none of us were with him. It's all perfectly strange to me”--with a sigh.
”Why do you sigh? Don't you expect to like it?”
”Why no, not _like it_ exactly. Of course I'm glad to be with Lionel and of use to him, but I didn't come away from home for pleasure.”
”Pleasure must come to you, then,” said the lady, with a smile. ”And really I don't see why it shouldn't. In the first place you are acting the part of a good sister; and you know the adage about duty performed making rainbows in the soul. And then Colorado is a beautiful State, with the finest of mountain views, a wonderful climate, and such wild flowers as grow nowhere else. I have some friends living there who are quite infatuated about it. They say there is no place so delightful in the world.”
”That is just the way with my brother. It's really absurd the way he talks about it. You would think it was better than England!”
”It is sure to be very different; but all the same, you will like it, I think.”
”I hope so”--doubtfully.
Just then came an interruption in the shape of a tall girl of fifteen or sixteen, with a sweet, childish face who came running down the deck accompanied by a maid, and seized the strange lady's hand.
”Mamma,” she began, ”the first officer says that if you are willing he will take me across to the bows to see the rainbows on the foam. May I go? He says Anne can go too.”
”Yes, certainly, if Mr. Graves will take charge of you. But first speak to this young lady, who is the sister of Mr. Young, who was so kind about playing s.h.i.+p-coil with you yesterday, and tell her you are glad she is able to be on deck. Then you can go, Amy.”
Amy turned a pair of beautiful, long-lashed, gray eyes on Imogen.
”I'm glad you're better, Miss Young. Mamma and I were sorry you were so sick,” she said, with a frank politeness that was charming. ”It must be very disagreeable.”
”Haven't you been sick, then?” said Imogen, holding fast the little hand that was put in hers.
”No, I'm never sick _now_. I was, though, the first time we came over, and I behaved _awfully_. Do you recollect, mamma?”
”Only too well,” said her mother, laughing. ”You were like a caged bird, beating yourself against the bars in desperation.”
Amy lingered a moment, while a dimple played in her pink cheek as if she were moved by some amusing remembrance.
”Ah, there's Mr. Graves,” she said. ”I must go. I'll come back presently and tell you about the rainbows, mamma.”
”I suppose most of these people on board are Americans,” said Imogen after a little pause. ”It's always easy to tell them, don't you think?”
”Not always. Yes, I suppose a good many of them are--or call themselves so.”
”What do you mean by 'call themselves so'? That girl is one, I am sure,”
indicating a pretty, stylish young person, who was talking rather too loudly for good taste with the s.h.i.+p's doctor.
”Yes, I imagine she is.”
”And those people over there,” pointing to a large, red-bearded man who lay back in a sea-chair reading a novel, by the side of a fat wife who read another, while their little boy raced up and down the deck quite unheeded, and amused himself by pulling the rugs off the knees of the sicker pa.s.sengers. ”They are Americans, I know! Did you ever see such creatures? The idea of letting that child make a nuisance of himself like that! No one but an American would allow it. I've always heard that children in the States do exactly as they please, and the grown people never interfere with them in the least.”
”General rules are dangerous things,” said her neighbor, with an odd little smile. ”Now, as it happens, I know all about those people. They call themselves Americans because they have lived in Buffalo for ten years and are naturalized; but he was born in Scotland and she in Wales, and the child doesn't belong exactly to any country, for he happened to be born at sea. You see you can't always tell.”