"If I didn't sometimes hear trains passing Annandale in the night, I should forget that there's a great busy world off there somewhere," said Miss Pat. "I am ashamed of myself for having been so long discovering this spot. Except one journey to California, I was never west of Philadelphia until I came here."
The world was satisfactory as it stood; and I was aware of no reason why it should move on. The chime of the chapel tower drifted to us drowsily, as though anxious to accommodate itself to the mood of a day that began business by shattering the hour-glass. The mist that hung over the water rose lazily, and disclosed the lake agleam in the full sunlight. Though Miss Pat was content to linger, Helen, I thought, appeared restless; she rose and walked to the edge of the terrace, the better to scan the lake, while Miss Pat and I talked on. Miss Pat's gift of detachment was remarkable; if we had been looking down from a balcony upon the Grand Canal, or breakfasting in an Italian garden, she could not have been more at ease; nor did she refer even remotely to the odd business that had brought her to the lake. She was, to be explicit, describing in her delightful low voice, and in sentences vivid with spirit and color, a visit she had once paid to a noble Italian family at their country seat. As Helen wandered out of hearing I thought Miss Pat would surely seize the opportunity to speak of the girl's father, at least to ask whether I had heard of him further; but she avoided all mention of her troubles.
Helen stood by the line of scarlet geraniums that marked the balustrade, at a point whence the best view of the lake was obtainable—her hands clasped behind her, her head turned slightly.
"There is no one quite like her!" exclaimed Miss Pat.
"She is beautiful!" I acquiesced.
Miss Pat talked on quickly, as though our silence might cause Helen to turn and thus deprive us of the picture.
"Should you like to look over the house?" I asked a little later, when Helen had come back to the table. "It is said to be one of the finest houses in interior America, and there are some good pictures."
"We should be very glad," said Miss Pat; and Helen murmured assent.
"But we must not stay too long, Aunt Pat. Mr. Donovan has his own affairs. We must not tax his generosity too far."
"And we are going to send some letters off to-day. If it isn't asking too much, I should like to drive to the village later," said Miss Pat.