Many of them still linger in the minds of our travelers, attended by a train of harmonious images--images of brilliant mornings on lawns and piazzas that overlooked the sea;of innumerable pretty girls; of infinite lounging and talking and laughing and flirting and lunching and dining; of universal friendliness and frankness; of occasions on which they knew everyone and everything and had an extraordinary sense of ease;of drives and rides in the late afternoon over gleaming beaches, on long sea roads, beneath a sky lighted up by marvelous sunsets;of suppers, on the return, informal, irregular, agreeable;of evenings at open windows or on the perpetual verandas, in the summer starlight, above the warm Atlantic.
The young Englishmen were introduced to everybody, entertained by everybody, intimate with everybody. At the end of three days they had removed their luggage from the hotel and had gone to stay with Mrs. Westgate--a step to which Percy Beaumont at first offered some conscientious opposition.
I call his opposition conscientious, because it was founded upon some talk that he had had, on the second day, with Bessie Alden.
He had indeed had a good deal of talk with her, for she was not literally always in conversation with Lord Lambeth.
He had meditated upon Mrs. Westgate's account of her sister, and he discovered for himself that the young lady was clever, and appeared to have read a great deal. She seemed very nice, though he could not make out, as Mrs. Westgate had said, she was shy.
If she was shy, she carried it off very well.
"Mr. Beaumont," she had said, "please tell me something about Lord Lambeth's family. How would you say it in England--his position?""His position?" Percy Beaumont repeated.
"His rank, or whatever you call it. Unfortunately we haven't got a PEERAGE, like the people in Thackeray.""That's a great pity," said Beaumont. "You would find it all set forth there so much better than I can do it.""He is a peer, then?"
"Oh, yes, he is a peer."
"And has he any other title than Lord Lambeth?""His title is the Marquis of Lambeth," said Beaumont; and then he was silent.
Bessie Alden appeared to be looking at him with interest. "He is the son of the Duke of Bayswater," he added presently.
"The eldest son?"
"The only son."
"And are his parents living?"
"Oh yes; if his father were not living he would be a duke.""So that when his father dies," pursued Bessie Alden with more simplicity than might have been expected in a clever girl, "he will become Duke of Bayswater?""Of course," said Percy Beaumont. "But his father is in excellent health.""And his mother?"
Beaumont smiled a little. "The duchess is uncommonly robust.""And has he any sisters?"
"Yes, there are two."
"And what are they called?"
"One of them is married. She is the Countess of Pimlico.""And the other?"
"The other is unmarried; she is plain Lady Julia."Bessie Alden looked at him a moment. "Is she very plain?"Beaumont began to laugh again. "You would not find her so handsome as her brother," he said; and it was after this that he attempted to dissuade the heir of the Duke of Bayswater from accepting Mrs. Westgate's invitation.
"Depend upon it," he said, "that girl means to try for you.""It seems to me you are doing your best to make a fool of me,"the modest young nobleman answered.
"She has been asking me," said Beaumont, "all about your people and your possessions.""I am sure it is very good of her!" Lord Lambeth rejoined.
"Well, then," observed his companion, "if you go, you go with your eyes open.""Damn my eyes!" exclaimed Lord Lambeth. "If one is to be a dozen times a day at the house, it is a great deal more convenient to sleep there.
I am sick of traveling up and down this beastly avenue."Since he had determined to go, Percy Beaumont would, of course, have been very sorry to allow him to go alone; he was a man of conscience, and he remembered his promise to the duchess.
It was obviously the memory of this promise that made him say to his companion a couple of days later that he rather wondered he should be so fond of that girl.
"In the first place, how do you know how fond I am of her?"asked Lord Lambeth. "And, in the second place, why shouldn't I be fond of her?""I shouldn't think she would be in your line.""What do you call my 'line'? You don't set her down as 'fast'?""Exactly so. Mrs. Westgate tells me that there is no such thing as the 'fast girl' in America; that it's an English invention, and that the term has no meaning here.""All the better. It's an animal I detest.""You prefer a bluestocking."
"Is that what you call Miss Alden?"
"Her sister tells me," said Percy Beaumont, "that she is tremendously literary.""I don't know anything about that. She is certainly very clever.""Well," said Beaumont, "I should have supposed you would have found that sort of thing awfully slow.""In point of fact," Lord Lambeth rejoined, "I find it uncommonly lively."After this, Percy Beaumont held his tongue; but on the 10th of August he wrote to the Duchess of Bayswater.
He was, as I have said, a man of conscience, and he had a strong, incorruptible sense of the proprieties of life.
His kinsman, meanwhile, was having a great deal of talk with Bessie Alden--on the red sea rocks beyond the lawn;in the course of long island rides, with a slow return in the glowing twilight; on the deep veranda late in the evening.
Lord Lambeth, who had stayed at many houses, had never stayed at a house in which it was possible for a young man to converse so frequently with a young lady. This young lady no longer applied to Percy Beaumont for information concerning his lordship.
She addressed herself directly to the young nobleman.
She asked him a great many questions, some of which bored him a little; for he took no pleasure in talking about himself.