The two girls, who would have given up life or a lover, one for the other, felt a romantic interest in the alliance of these men, both apparently isolated, and erratic for some good cause from tranquil happiness. Diana’s interest was that of a comrade in these adventures; Clara’s was an almost timorous sympathy. Ambient listened and blushed pinker with excitement. He was a little cut out by a man who had done what he only hoped to do; but Sir Com was a good fellow, and while the first fiddle played, he put up his pipe of tender wild oat in its verdant case and applauded the solo heartily.
By Mr. Waddie’s invitation, Granby and Ambient joined his party at the Tremont House. The ladies also suggested Newport, whither they were all going. Granby mentioned his half-engagement with Mr. Waddy to drop in at that watering-place on their tour, and said that the pleasure of their society, etc., etc. In short, if he could persuade his friend, they would drop in, and “we’ll give you a plunge, too, Ambient,” he promised.
This conversation took place at the breakfast table, the morning after they landed. The ladies presently disappeared and, when they reappeared, were resplendent with results of unpacking. The proud and brilliant Diana was still in half-mourning. I think this Amazon must have beheld Clara’s loveliness with almost masculine admiration and have expressed it with manly compliments, for Clara seemed a little conscious as they stepped into a carriage, not quick enough to avoid the two gentlemen. These knightly squires were eager for a glimpse at brightened beauty. Granby assumed the privilege of handing them into their go-cart, while the humbler Ambient defended skirt from wheel.
“We are going,” said Diana, “to pass the morning with our friend, Miss Sullivan, in the country.”
“Adieu the eagle and the swan!” cried Granby, as they drove off. “By Imperial Jove! Ambient, she is worthy to be the consort of a god. If I was ambitious, as you are, I should aspire as you do and as much in vain. I suppose this is your first love, eh? You’re luckier than most men. A man’s first is generally either a grandmotherly old flirt become dévote, or some bread-and-butter, sweet simplicity,—oh, bah!”
“Lucky!” echoed Ambient. “I’m confoundedly unlucky and unhappy. She’ll never have anything to say to me—except in that infernal condescending de haut en bas style, as if I was a boy. I’d like to pwove it on somebody that I’m not!” and Sir Com looked around with a quite fierce expression upon his pleasant countenance.
“Well, I’m not at all sorry for you,” said Granby cheerfully. “It never does anyone any harm to be desperately in love with a woman who is worthy. You may be sure that Diana will never flirt with you.”
“She fluriot!—she would never care enough for anyone’s admiration to twy to gain it. I only wish she would fluriot with me; then I could be angwy—now I’m only wetched.”
“It will not help you to know that everybody must go through it,” said Granby, his face grave again—even a little bitter. “I have, my dear fellow—and worse. For my part, I admire the goddess immensely; but I think I could love her friend more—that heavenly mildness gently soothes my soul. The nose,” continued the major, waxing eloquent, “is man’s most available feature—it may be tweaked. The mouth in woman is delicately expressive and available when we are allowed to”—and he raised his fingers with courteous reverence to his lips. “But the mouth is external merely. Who wishes to look down it, even though heart may be in throat and panting at the parted lips? It is the eyes—eyes like Clara’s, where there is soul beneath the surface and down in the deep profound of those wells of lightsome lustre is truth—these we may dreamily gaze in for life-long peacefulness.”
Ambient stared at this rhapsody, not quite certain whether his companion was in earnest. But before he could decide, a carriage drove up, and Granby gave a distant view-halloo as Mr. Waddy stepped out.