After many delays, caused by languid guests, late hampers, and the vacillations of Mrs. Gower herself, the little steamer cast off and proceeded up the river. Mrs. Gower took command in the yacht, extending her jurisdiction, as Vane observed, quite to the limit of the pilot’s politeness. At first, owing to the smells of the manufacturing establishments which lined the river, and divers distasteful sights about the wharves, but little attention was paid to the scenery; but when the city was left behind, and the western shore grew bolder, Nature was rewarded with all the adjectives of feminine enthusiasm. Vane heard less of this, however, as conversation grew more general. When due appreciation of the Hudson’s beauties had been shown, the company broke up into groups of two or three camp-stools, and every little clump fell to discussing its neighbors. Here and there was a group of two—a male and female—oblivious of neighbors and discussing each other. The Palisades looked on in silence. It seemed to Vane that the occasion was only saved from insignificance by the presence of Miss Thomas.
When they touched shore at the grove appointed for the picnic, most of the ladies and gentlemen, eager to land as if it had been an ocean voyage, crowded to the gangway. Mrs. Gower felt it her duty to show the way, and skilfully forced a passage through her guests, Vane, who was at that moment busied with the duty of protecting her, following in her wake. Her rapid motion caused a sort of eddy in which Vane moved behind her without much effort; so that, looking about him, he saw Miss Thomas beside him. Her companion was a young man with an eye-glass, looking like a student in college, the consciousness of his own merits continually at war with the world’s estimate of them; so that the unceasing struggle of a proper self-assertion left him little breath for words. In one of the pauses of his conversation, Miss Thomas turned rapidly to Vane.
“Are you never going to speak to me again?”
“Have you forgiven me yet?”
This little interchange of questions was so quick that it hardly could have been noticed by any one. Miss Thomas turned back to her companion before he had even time to miss her attention; and indeed his mind was fully occupied in grappling for his next remark; while Vane was incontinently swept over the gang-plank in the vortex of Mrs. Gower.
She certainly looked very pretty that day, thought Vane, as he walked up the hill with the latter lady; but he was sure now that he had no mind to be refused by her. Better even the present than that. She had on another soft, clinging dress, of ivory white, which only lent an added charm to her skin of whiter ivory, the dead black hair, and those wonderful violet—“Ah—oh, yes,” said Vane to Mrs. Gower; and then, seeing this lady laugh, “Yes, very funny—hah!”
“I was telling you of Mrs. Grayling’s sad experience in Rome,” said Mrs. Gower, demurely; “but I fear you were not thinking of her.”
Vane vowed to keep a tighter rein on his thoughts thereafter; and they came to a little glade in the wood, where the servants were laying table-cloths on the turf. The dinner was very gay. Some ladies screamed when a daddy-longlegs ran into the lobster salad, but an occasional pine-needle, falling into a glass of champagne, seemed but to add to its flavor. It was considered de rigueur to sit upon the grass; but most of the men found it very awkward to assume attitudes of any decorative value, and the college student in particular was heard to wonder audibly how the deuce the Romans did it. After the feast, the company divided itself into couples and scattered in the woods. Miss Thomas did not leave the table; and Mrs. Gower felt obliged to wait for the last. Wemyss stayed with her. As Vane passed behind Miss Thomas, she called him to her.
“I have something to tell you to-day.”
“Will not some other time do?” said Vane, “I am getting a glass of wine for Mrs. Gower.” The girl looked at him, but did not seem to take offence.