"Mr. Searles," said Colonel Harris, "before leaving America you must climb the Catskills. Thousands every summer, escaping from the heat and worry of life, visit those wind-swept 'hills of the sky.' There they find rest and happiness in great forests, shady nooks, lovely walks, and fine drives.
"There are several hotels in the vicinity. From one hotel on an overhanging cliff you behold stretched out before you a hundred miles of the matchless panorama of the Hudson. The Highlands lie to the south, the Berkshire Hills and Green Mountains to the east, and the Adirondacks to the north. The latter is a paradise for disciples of Nimrod and of Izaak Walton, and a blessed sanitarium for Americans, most of whom under skies less gray than yours do their daily work with little if any reserve vitality."
Gertrude, who had excused herself some minutes before, now returned. She had been visiting in an adjoining Pullman a friend of hers, whom she had met for a moment in the Grand Central Station before the train started. Calling Colonel Harris aside, she said, "Father, Mrs. Nellie Eastlake, my classmate at Smith College, is going with friends to the Pacific Coast; shall I ask her to dine with us?"
"Certainly, child, invite her, and I am sure, Mr. Searles, that you concur in my daughter's plan to increase our party at dinner, do you not?"
"Most assuredly, Colonel."
A little later charming Mrs. Eastlake followed Gertrude into the "Alfonso," and soon dinner was announced. The steward, thoughtlessly, had forgotten in New York to purchase flowers for the table, but they were not missed.
There are women in this world whose presence is so enjoyable that they rival the charm of both art and flowers. Their voices, their grace of manner, their interest in you and your welfare, laden the air with an indescribable something that exhilarates. Their presence is like the sunshine that warms and perfumes a conservatory; you inhale the odors of roses, pinks, and climbing jessamines. Such a woman was Nellie Eastlake. She was tall and winning. The marble heart of the Venus of Milo would have warmed in her presence. Shakespeare would have said of her eyes, "They do mislead the morn."
Mrs. Eastlake was in sympathy with the Harrises in their keen disappointments. She possessed the tact to put Mr. Searles in the happiest frame of mind, so that he half forgot his mission to America. The Colonel also forgot, for the hour, that his family were absent, and that his workmen in Harrisville were on a strike.
Mrs. Eastlake in her girlhood had converted all who knew her into ardent friends. While at school on the Hudson, she met the rich father of a schoolmate. Later she was invited to travel with this friend and her father, Mr. Eastlake, a widower, among the Thousand Islands and down the St. Lawrence River. She so charmed the millionaire that after graduation at Smith College she accepted and married him. She was now journeying to her palatial home on the Pacific Coast. She skilfully helped to guide the table-talk, avoiding unwelcome topics. The dinner over, a half-hour was spent with music and magazines, and the party retired for the night.
Breakfast was served as the Express approached Lake Erie. It was agreed that Mr. Searles should accompany Mrs. Eastlake and Gertrude in the car "Alfonso," and spend a day or two at Niagara Falls.