Delia Blanchflower | Page 8

topmost crags of the
mountain, their royal mantle ran unbroken. This morning they were
lightly drowned in a fine weather haze, and the mere sight of them
suggested cool glades and verdurous glooms, stretches of pink willow
herb lighting up the clearings--and in the secret heart of them such
chambers "deaf to noise and blind to light" as the forest lover knows.
Winnington promised himself a leisurely climb to the top of Monte
Vanna. The morning foretold considerable heat, but under the pines one
might mock at Helios.

Ah!--Euphrosyne!
She came, a vision of morning, tripping along in her white shoes and
white dress; followed by her English governess, the lady, as
Winnington guessed, from West Belfast, tempered by Brooklyn. The
son apparently was still in bed, nor did anyone trouble to hurry him out
of it. The father, a Viennese judge _en retraite_, as Winnington had
been already informed by the all-knowing porter of the hotel, was a
shrewd thin-lipped old fellow, with the quiet egotism of the successful
lawyer. He came up to Winnington as soon as he perceived him, and
thanked him in good English for his kindness to Euphrosyne of the day
before. Winnington responded suitably and was soon seated at their
table, chatting with them while they took their coffee. Euphrosyne
shewed a marked pleasure in his society, and upon Winnington, steeped
in a holiday reaction from much strenuous living, her charm worked as
part of the charm of the day, and the magic of the mountain world. He
noticed, however, with a revival of alarm, that she had a vigorous
German appetite of her own, and as he watched the rolls disappear he
trembled for the slender figure and the fawn-like gait.
After breakfast, while the governess and the girl disappeared, the father
hung over the verandah smoking, beside the Englishman, to whom he
was clearly attracted. He spoke quite frankly of his daughter, and her
bringing up. "She is motherless; her mother died when she was ten
years old; and since, I must educate her myself. It gives me many
anxieties, but she is a sweet creature, _dank sei gott_! I will not let her
approach, even, any of these modern ideas about women. My wife
hated them; I do also. I shall marry her to an honest man, and she will
make a good wife and a good house-mother."
"Mind you choose him well!" said Winnington, with a shrug. His eyes
at that moment were critically bent on a group of Berliners, men of the
commercial and stock-broking class, who, with their wives, had arrived
a couple of nights before. The men were strolling and smoking below.
They were all fat, red-faced and overbearing. When they went for
walks, the man stalked in front along the forest paths, and the woman
followed behind, carrying her own jacket. Winnington wondered what

it might be like to be the wife of any of them. These Herren at any rate
might not be the worse for a little hustling from the "woman
movement." He could not, however, say honestly that the wives shewed
any consciousness of ill-fortune. They were almost all plump, plumper
even than their husbands, expensively dressed and prosperous looking;
and the amount of Viennese beer they consumed at the forest
restaurants to which their husbands conducted them, seemed to the
Englishman portentous.
"Yes, my daughter is old-fashioned," resumed the ex-judge,
complacently, after a pause. "And I am grateful to Miss Johnson, who
has trained her very well. If she were like some of the girls one sees
now! Last year there was a young lady here--_Ach, Gott!_" He raised
his shoulders, with a contemptuous mouth.
"Miss Blanchflower?" asked Winnington, turning towards the speaker
with sudden interest.
"That I believe was her name. She was mad, of course. _Ach_, they
have told you?--of that Vortrag she gave?--and the rest? After ten
minutes, I made a sign to my daughter, and we walked out. I would not
have had her corrupted with these ideas for the whole world. And such
beauty, you understand! That makes it more dangerous. _Ja, ja,
Liebchen--ich komme gleich!_"
For there had been a soft call from Euphrosyne, standing on the steps of
the hotel, and her fond father hurried away to join her.
At the same moment, the porter emerged, bearing a bundle of letters
and newspapers which had just arrived. Eager for his Times
Winnington went to meet him, and the man put into his hands what
looked like a large post. He carried it off into the shelter of the pines,
for the sun was already blazing on the hotel. Two or three letters on
county business he ran through first. His own pet project, as County
Councillor,--a county school for crippled children, was at last getting
on. Foundation