“My sister thinks a carriage would be better, she is so very weak,” mildly observed Martha.
“Well, we 'll get one in a jiffy. Fritz, my man, send down to the Platz for a shandradan,—a wagon, I mean. 'T is a droll name for a coach.” And he laughed heartily at the conceit “And now, Mr. Purvis, let us finish them before we go. The Gen'ral is doing his part like a man. It's wonderful the nourishment would n't put flesh on him; you could shave him with his shin bone!” and Dalton stared at the frail figure before him with all the astonishment a great natural curiosity would create.
“What a kind creature! what a really Irish heart!” sighed Mrs. Ricketts, as she slowly sailed into the room, and sank into a chair beside Dalton. “It is like a dream, a delicious dream,—all this is. To be here in Baden, with my dear Miss Kate Dalton's father,—actually going to drink tea.——What a thought, Martha! to drink tea with dearest Nelly!”
Peter began to fear that the prospect of such happiness was about to overwhelm her sensibilities once more; but fortunately, this time, she became more composed, and discussed the visit with wonderful calm and self-possession.
The carriage now drove up; and although Dalton would greatly have preferred a little longer dalliance over the bottle, he politely gave one arm to Mrs. Ricketts and the other to Martha, issuing forth from the Cursaal in all the pride of a conqueror.
CHAPTER XVII. NELLY'S TRIALS
While Mr. Dalton is accompanying his guests along the Lichtenthal Alley, and describing the various objects of interest on either hand, we will take the opportunity of explaining to our reader why it happened that honest Peter no longer inhabited the little quiet quarters above the toyshop.
By Kate's liberality, for some time back he had been most freely supplied with money. Scarcely a week passed over without a line from Abel Kraus to say that such or such a sum was placed to his credit; and Dalton once more revelled in those spendthrift habits that he loved. At moments, little flashes of prudential resolve would break upon him. Thoughts of Ireland and of the “old place” would arise, and he would half determine on some course of economy which might again restore him to his home and country. But the slightest prospect of immediate pleasure was sufficient to rout these wise resolves, and Baden was precisely the spot to suggest such “distractions.” There was nothing Peter so much liked in the life of this watering-place as the facility with which acquaintance was formed. The stately reserve of English people was his antipathy, and here he saw that all this was laid aside, and that people conversed freely with the neighbor that chance had given, and that even intimacies grew up between those who scarcely knew each other's names.
Whatever might be thought of these practices by more fastidious critics, to Peter Dalton they appeared admirable. In his estimation the world was a great Donnybrook Fair, where everybody came to amuse and be amused. Grave faces and careworn looks, he thought, should stay at home, and not disturb the harmony of what he deemed a great convivial gathering.