some mental confusion. The words that finally came from my lips were not at all those I had meant to say. 'Tell me, Evelyn- what is it like? Is it pleasant?' Evelyn's astonishment was hardly greater man my own; but having once begun, I had to explain more fully. I hurried on.
'You will forgive me for probing into what must be a source of pain for you; but I have never had the opportunity of inquiring… One hears such conflicting stories. My sisters-in-law whisper and shake their heads and speak of the cross a wife must bear. But I have seen the village girls in the meadows with their sweethearts and they seem- they look- in short, they do not seem to find… Dear me! How strange, I seem to be at a loss for words. That does not often occur. Do you understand what I am trying to ask?'
For a moment longer Evelyn stared at me, her wide eyes brimming. Then an extraordinary grimace crossed her face. She covered it with her hands; her shoulders shook convulsively.
'I must apologize,' I said resignedly. 'Now I suppose I will never know. I did not intend-'
A choked sound from Evelyn interrupted me. She lowered her hands. Her face was flushed and tear-streaked. She was gasping- with laughter.
I took it for hysteria, of course, and moved alertly forward. She caught my lifted hand.
'No, no, you needn't slap me; I am not at all hysterical. But, Amelia, you are- you are so- Is that really all you can think of to ask me, after such a story as mine?' I considered the matter.
'Why, I really do not think there is anything else to ask. The shameful behavior of your abominable old grandfather and your villain of a lover require no comment. I presume your other family connections are equally cold-hearted, or you would have appealed to them.'
'And you are not repelled by my ruined character?'
'I do not consider that it is ruined. Indeed, the experience has probably strengthened your character.'
Evelyn shook her head. 'I can't believe you are real!'
'There is nothing extraordinary about me. However, I suppose- yes, I am sure that it would be wise for you to make certain I am what I claim to be before you accept the position I offer. My father had friends in academic circles; I can give you references to a clergyman here in Rome, and the consul knows of my- '
'No. I do not need to make such inquiries.' With a gesture, Evelyn indicated that I should take a seat on the bed beside her. I did so. She studied me earnestly for a few moments. Then she said,
'Before I answer your question, Amelia, perhaps you will answer one for me. Why did you say, 'I will never know'? Referring, of course, to the question- '
'Well, it is unlikely that I shall ever have firsthand experience. I am fully acquainted with the use of the mirror and the calendar. The latter tells me that I am thirty-two years old; the former reproduces my plain features without flattery. Moreover, my nature does not lend itself to the meekness required of a wife in our society, I could not endure a man who would let himself be ruled by me, and I would not endure a man who tried to rule me. However, I am curious. I had thought -- But no doubt I spoke out of place. My brothers assure me that I constantly do so.'
'If I have not answered your question,' Evelyn said, 'it is not because I consider it unfair, but because I find it difficult to give a balanced answer. At this time, my recollection of the hours I spent- shall we say in Alberto's arms?- makes a shudder of disgust pass through me. But at the time- at the time -- ' She leaned forward. Her eyes were brilliant.
'Oh, Amelia, under the right circumstances, it is- in a word- perfectly splendid!'
'Ah. I suspected as much. Well, my dear Evelyn, I am indebted to you for the information. And now shall we consider a more pressing question? No doubt you will wish to inquire of those references I mentioned before making a decision as to- '
'No.' Evelyn shook her head vigorously. Her golden curls danced. 'I need no references, and no time to consider. I would love to be your companion, Amelia. Indeed- I think we will get on very well together.'
With a quick, graceful movement she leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the cheek. The gesture took me quite by surprise. I mumbled something and left the room. I never had a sister. I began to think that perhaps a gesture that had begun as an act of charity might benefit me as much as it helped its object.
I may say, without undue egotism, that when I make up my mind to do something, it is done quickly. The lethargic old city of the Popes fairly quaked under my ruthless hand during the following week.
The week brought several surprises to me. I had looked forward to adopting Evelyn and dressing her, rather as if she had been a pretty, living doll. I wanted to buy for her all the dainty, impractical garments I could not wear myself. But she was not a doll, and she soon made that fact apparent. I don't know quite how she accomplished it, for she never openly countermanded an order or contradicted me; but she eventually acquired a wardrobe that was charming and simple and astonishingly inexpensive. And, in the process, I somehow acquired half a dozen new frocks of my own, which I had had no intention of buying. They were not the kind of frocks I would have chosen for myself. One evening dress, which I certainly did not need, was of the most astonishing shade of crimson, with a square neckline cut severalinches lower than anything I had ever worn. The skirts were draped back over a bustle, displaying a sequined underskirt. Evelyn chose the fabric and bullied the dressmaker quite as effectively, and much more quietly, than I would have done. I thought the gown quite absurd; it squeezed my waist down to nothing and made my bosom look even more ample than it unfortunately is. But when Evelyn said, 'Wear it'; I wore it. She was an amazing girl. She also discovered a weakness, so secret I was not aware of it myself, for embroidered batiste; the dozens of fine undergarments and nightgowns I had meant to get for her ended being made to my measurements.
I was in something of a daze during that week. I felt as if I had picked up a pathetic, half- drowned kitten from a pond and then had seen it turn into a full-grown tiger. Enough of my natural instincts remained, however, to allow me to take certain practical steps.
I am not at all a man-hater, despite the innuendos of a certain person whose name has not yet entered into this narrative. I had found, however, that few persons of the male sex were to be trusted, and Evelyn's story had merely confirmed this theory. It was obvious that Alberto was an untruthful person. The story he had written to Evelyn about her grandfather was not to be believed without investigation. I therefore went to our consul in Rome and made inquiries.
I was disappointed for several reasons to learn that on this account, if no other, Alberto had spoken the truth. The Earl of Ellesmere was personally known to our consul; and of course the health of a peer of such rank was a matter of general concern. The elderly earl was not yet dead, but word of bis demise was expected at any moment. He had been in a deep coma for days.
I proceeded to tell the consul about Evelyn. He had heard rumors of this affair; that was clear, from the way his face changed to its blank diplomatic mask. He had the temerity to remonstrate with me when I explained my intentions with regard to the girl. I cut him short, naturally. I had only two reasons for mentioning Evelyn at all. Firstly, to ascertain whether or not any of her kin had made inquiries about her. Secondly, to inform someone in authority of her future whereabouts in case such inquiries should be made in the future. The answer to the first question was negative. The diplomatic mask notwithstanding, I could see by the consul's expression that he did not expect any such inquiries; he knew the old Earl too well. I therefore gave him my address in Cairo and departed, leaving him shaking his head and mumbling to himself.
On the twenty-eighth of the month we boarded the ship at Brindisi and set sail for Alexandria.
2
I WILL spare the Gentle Reader descriptions of the journey and of the picturesque dirt of Alexandria. Every European traveler who can write his name feels obliged to publish his memoirs; the reader may
