Seville.
“Wo die Citronen blühn.”
Chapter Twenty Six.
Fighting the Dragon.
“Does the road wind uphill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.”
“So, papa, here we are, off at last! I can hardly believe it, and nothing left behind! Isn’t it delightful? Such lovely weather and so many people! I wish we were going to India right away! I wonder how many of those people are good sailors.”
“A very small proportion, my dear, in all probability.”
“How I do like to look at people and imagine histories for them! And you cannot start for India without a sort of story; can you? As for you and me, we’re just going to enjoy ourselves!”
The speaker looked capable of enjoying herself and all around her. She was a girl of eighteen or nineteen, dressed in a tightly-fitting dark blue dress with a little black felt hat, very becoming to her small, slender shape, and dark glowing complexion. She had pretty features and very white teeth, which showed a little in her frequent smiles; dark hazel eyes, bright, clear, and penetrating; and curly wavy hair, as black as an English girl’s can be. She had quick, decided movements, a clear, firm voice, and the sweetest laugh possible.
Among all the anxious, hurried, fidgety people on the deck she looked perfectly happy and at her ease—not careless, for a variety of small packages were neatly piled up beside her, but entirely content; for was not the desire of her heart in process of fulfilment? Ever since Elizabeth Stanforth, always appropriately called Gipsy, had been a little girl, she had delighted in sharing her father’s expeditions when the great London artist sought new ideas, new models, or a cessation from ideas and models, in the enjoyment of natural beauty. These expeditions had not hitherto been long or frequent, for Gipsy was the eldest of seven, and holiday trips away from the old house at Kensington were generally made in company with her mother and the children, with occasional divergences of Mr Stanforth’s. Gipsy, too, was but newly released from the thraldom of lessons and classes, though a week once at the Lakes, and another in Cornwall, had shown Mr Stanforth that she possessed various requisites for a good traveller—a great capacity for enjoyment and a great incapacity for being bored, good health, a good appetite, and a good temper.