“Yes, and disappointed as well. I never would have undertaken this journey if I had not thought it would be full of novelty, romance, and charming adventures.”
“Well, we have had several adventures.”
“Bah! losing one’s hat in the Rhine, getting left at a dirty little inn, and having our pockets picked, are not what I call adventures. I wish there were brigands in Germany—it needs something of that sort to enliven its stupidity.”
“How can you call Germany stupid when you have a scene like this before you?” said Helen, with a sigh of pleasure, as she looked from the balcony which overhangs the Rhine at the hotel of the “Three Kings” at Coblentz. Ehrenbreitstein towered opposite, the broad river glittered below, and a mid-summer moon lent its enchantment to the landscape.
As she spoke, her companion half rose from the low chair where she lounged, and showed the pretty, piquant face of a young girl. She seemed in a half melancholy, half petulant mood; and traces of recent illness were visible in the languor of her movements and the pallor of her cheeks.
“Yes, it is lovely; but I want adventures and romance of some sort to make it quite perfect. I don’t care what, if something would only happen.”
“My dear, you are out of spirits and weary now, to-morrow you’ll be yourself again. Do not be ungrateful to uncle or unjust to yourself. Something pleasant will happen, I’ve no doubt. In fact, something has happened that you may make a little romance out of, perhaps, for lack of a more thrilling adventure.”
“What do you mean?” and Amy’s listless face brightened.
“Speak low; there are balconies all about us, and we may be overheard,” said Helen, drawing nearer after an upward glance.
“What is the beginning of a romance?” whispered Amy, eagerly.