"Oh, you mean by the heat?" replied Percy Beaumont.
"We were rather knocked up, but we feel
wonderfully better.
We had such a jolly--a--
voyage down here. It's so very good
of you to mind."
"Yes, it's so very kind of you," murmured Lord Lambeth.
Mrs. Westgate stood smiling; she was
extremely pretty. "Well, I did mind,"
she said; "and I thought of sending for you this morning to the Ocean House.
I am very glad you are better, and I am charmed you have arrived.
You must come round to the other side of the
piazza." And she led the way,
with a light, smooth step, looking back at the young men and smiling.
The other side of the
piazza was, as Lord Lambeth
presently remarked,
a very jolly place. It was of the most
liberal proportions,
and with its awnings, its fanciful chairs, its cushions and rugs,
its view of the ocean, close at hand, tumbling along the base of the low
cliffs whose level tops intervened in lawnlike smoothness, it formed
a
charming complement to the
drawing room. As such it was in course
of use at the present moment; it was occupied by a social circle.
There were several ladies and two or three gentlemen, to whom
Mrs. Westgate proceeded to introduce the
distinguished strangers.
She mentioned a great many names very
freely and distinctly;
the young Englishmen, shuffling about and bowing, were rather bewildered.
But at last they were provided with chairs--low, wicker chairs,
gilded, and tied with a great many ribbons--and one of the ladies
(a very young person, with a little snub nose and several dimples)
offered Percy Beaumont a fan. The fan was also adorned with pink
love knots; but Percy Beaumont declined it, although he was very hot.
Presently, however, it became cooler; the
breeze from the sea
was
delicious, the view was
charming, and the people sitting there
looked
exceedingly fresh and comfortable. Several of the ladies
seemed to be young girls, and the gentlemen were slim, fair youths,
such as our friends had seen the day before in New York.
The ladies were
working upon bands of
tapestry, and one of the young
men had an open book in his lap. Beaumont afterward learned
from one of the ladies that this young man had been
reading aloud,
that he was from Boston and was very fond of
reading aloud.
Beaumont said it was a great pity that they had interrupted him;
he should like so much (from all he had heard) to hear a Bostonian read.
Couldn't the young man be induced to go on?
"Oh no," said his informant very
freely; "he wouldn't be able
to get the young ladies to attend to him now."
There was something very friendly, Beaumont perceived,
in the attitude of the company; they looked at the young Englishmen
with an air of
animatedsympathy and interest; they smiled,
brightly and
unanimously, at everything either of the visitors said.
Lord Lambeth and his
companion felt that they were being made
very
welcome. Mrs. Westgate seated herself between them, and,
talking a great deal to each, they had occasion to observe
that she was as pretty as their friend Littledale had promised.
She was thirty years old, with the eyes and the smile of a girl
of seventeen, and she was
extremely light and graceful,
elegant,
exquisite. Mrs. Westgate was
extremely spontaneous.
She was very frank and demonstrative and appeared always--
while she looked at you delightedly with her beautiful
young eyes--to be making sudden
confessions and concessions,
after
momentary hesitations.
"We shall expect to see a great deal of you," she said to Lord
Lambeth with a kind of
joyousearnestness. "We are very fond
of Englishmen here; that is, there are a great many we have been
fond of. After a day or two you must come and stay with us;
we hope you will stay a long time. Newport's a very nice place
when you come really to know it, when you know plenty of people.
Of course you and Mr. Beaumont will have no difficulty about that.
Englishmen are very well received here; there are almost always
two or three of them about. I think they always like it,
and I must say I should think they would. They receive ever
so much attention. I must say I think they sometimes get spoiled;
but I am sure you and Mr. Beaumont are proof against that.
My husband tells me you are a friend of Captain Littledale;
he was such a
charming man. He made himself most
agreeable here,
and I am sure I wonder he didn't stay. It couldn't have been
pleasanter for him in his own country, though, I suppose,
it is very pleasant in England, for English people.
I don't know myself; I have been there very little.
I have been a great deal
abroad, but I am always on the Continent.
I must say I'm
extremely fond of Paris; you know we Americans
always are; we go there when we die. Did you ever hear that before?
That was said by a great wit, I mean the good Americans;
but we are all good; you'll see that for yourself.
All I know of England is London, and all I know of London is
that place on that little corner, you know, where you buy jackets--
jackets with that
coarse braid and those big buttons.
They make very good jackets in London, I will do you
the justice to say that. And some people like the hats;
but about the hats I was always a
heretic; I always got
my hats in Paris. You can't wear an English hat--at least
I never could--unless you dress your hair a l'Anglaise;
and I must say that is a
talent I have never possessed.
In Paris they will make things to suit your peculiarities;
but in England I think you like much more to have--how shall I
say it?--one thing for everybody. I mean as regards dress.
I don't know about other things; but I have always
supposed that in other things everything was different.
I mean according to the people--according to the classes,
and all that. I am afraid you will think that I don't take
a very
favorable view; but you know you can't take a very
favorable view in Dover Street in the month of November.
That has always been my fate. Do you know Jones's Hotel
in Dover Street? That's all I know of England. Of course
everyone admits that the English hotels are your weak point.
There was always the most
frightful fog; I couldn't see to try
my things on. When I got over to America--into the light--
I usually found they were twice too big. The next time I
mean to go in the season; I think I shall go next year.
I want very much to take my sister; she has never been to England.
I don't know whether you know what I mean by saying
that the Englishmen who come here sometimes get spoiled.
I mean that they take things as a matter of course--
things that are done for them. Now, naturally, they are
only a matter of course when the Englishmen are very nice.
But, of course, they are almost always very nice.
Of course this isn't nearly such an interesting country as England;
there are not nearly so many things to see, and we haven't your
country life. I have never seen anything of your country life;
when I am in Europe I am always on the Continent. But I have
heard a great deal about it; I know that when you are among
yourselves in the country you have the most beautiful time.
Of course we have nothing of that sort, we have nothing on
that scale. I don't apologize, Lord Lambeth; some Americans
are always apologizing; you must have noticed that.
We have the
reputation of always boasting and bragging and
waving the American flag; but I must say that what strikes me
is that we are perpetually making excuses and
trying to smooth
things over. The American flag has quite gone out of fashion;
it's very carefully folded up, like an old tablecloth.
Why should we apologize? The English never apologize--
do they? No; I must say I never apologize. You must take
us as we come--with all our imperfections on our heads.
Of course we haven't your country life, and your old ruins,
and your great estates, and your
leisure class, and all that.
But if we haven't, I should think you might find it a pleasant change--
I think any country is pleasant where they have pleasant manners.
Captain Littledale told me he had never seen such pleasant manners
as at Newport, and he had been a great deal in European society.
Hadn't he been in the
diplomatic service? He told me
the dream of his life was to get appointed to a
diplomaticpost in Washington. But he doesn't seem to have succeeded.
I suppose that in England promotion--and all that sort of thing--
is fearfully slow. With us, you know, it's a great deal too fast.
You see, I admit our drawbacks. But I must
confess I think Newport
is an ideal place. I don't know anything like it anywhere.
Captain Littledale told me he didn't know anything like it anywhere.
It's entirely different from most watering places;
it's a most
charming life. I must say I think that when one
goes to a foreign country one ought to enjoy the differences.
Of course there are differences,
otherwise what did one come
abroad for? Look for your pleasure in the differences,
Lord Lambeth; that's the way to do it; and then I am sure
you will find American society--at least Newport society--
most
charming and most interesting. I wish very much my
husband were here; but he's
dreadfully confined to New York.
I suppose you think that is very strange--for a gentleman.
But you see we haven't any
leisure class."
Mrs. Westgate's
discourse, delivered in a soft, sweet voice,
flowed on like a
miniaturetorrent, and was interrupted by a
hundred little smiles, glances, and gestures, which might have
figured the irregularities and obstructions of such a stream.
Lord Lambeth listened to her with, it must be
confessed,
a rather ineffectual attention, although he indulged in a good
many little murmurs and ejaculations of
assent and deprecation.
He had no great
faculty for apprehending generalizations.
There were some three or four indeed which, in the play
of his own
intelligence, he had originated, and which had
seemed
convenient at the moment; but at the present time
he could hardly have been said to follow Mrs. Westgate
as she darted
gracefully about in the sea of speculation.
Fortunately she asked for no
especial rejoinder,
for she looked about at the rest of the company as well,
and smiled at Percy Beaumont, on the other side of her,
as if he too much understand her and agree with her.
He was rather more successful than his
companion;
for besides being, as we know, cleverer, his attention was
not
vaguely distracted by close
vicinity to a remarkably
interesting young girl, with dark hair and blue eyes.
This was the case with Lord Lambeth, to whom it occurred
after a while that the young girl with blue eyes and dark
hair was the pretty sister of whom Mrs. Westgate had spoken.
She
presently turned to him with a remark which established
her identity.
"It's a great pity you couldn't have brought my
brother-in-law with you.
It's a great shame he should be in New York in these days."
"Oh, yes; it's so very hot," said Lord Lambeth.
"It must be dreadful," said the young girl.
"I daresay he is very busy," Lord Lambeth observed.
"The gentlemen in America work too much," the young girl went on.
"Oh, do they? I daresay they like it," said her interlocutor.
"I don't like it. One never sees them."
"Don't you, really?" asked Lord Lambeth. "I shouldn't have fancied that."
"Have you come to study American manners?" asked the young girl.
"Oh, I don't know. I just came over for a lark. I haven't got long."
Here there was a pause, and Lord Lambeth began again. "But Mr. Westgate
will come down here, will not he?"
"I certainly hope he will. He must help to
entertain you and Mr. Beaumont."
Lord Lambeth looked at her a little with his handsome brown eyes.
"Do you suppose he would have come down with us if we had urged him?"
Mr. Westgate's sister-in-law was silent a moment, and then,
"I daresay he would," she answered.
"Really!" said the young Englishman. "He was
immensely civil
to Beaumont and me," he added.
"He is a dear good fellow," the young lady rejoined,
"and he is a perfect husband. But all Americans are that,"
she continued, smiling.