"But about yourself, Eleanor?"
"I am coming to that directly. Mrs. Kenderdine had gone abroad to get medical advice: as her health would permit her to take but little exercise, a morning drive, with receiving and paying visits (she is of an English family and well connected), was all she was capable of.
"It happened in this way that the only ones of our party fit for active duty were Fred—I mean Mr. Kenderdine—and myself. As we had formed the habit of amusing each other on the voyage, we still continued it. Aunt would join us when any historical site was to be visited; but there were many places that were not historical, but that were just as pleasant or as beautiful as if they had been, and to these we went together. We stayed in London until the season was over, and then started for Paris.
"You can form no idea how aunt reveled in the antiquities of Paris. If she went to the Musée Cluny in the morning, we might be sure we should see no more of her for that day at least. She absolutely took rooms at Versailles for two weeks that she might study up the locale of the Pompadour, whom she regards as a female Richelieu, and she also found a rich field of investigation in the lives of the French queens."
"And what were you doing all this time?"
"Oh! I had professors, French, Italian and German, for the languages, I visited the galleries, and aunt would read me her notes, so that I was gaining much information. You see, in a foreign country it is not the thing to sit in the house to study: you must go about as much as possible and use your eyes, which is an education in itself. That is what I was doing."
"About your career, I mean?"
"Don't be so impatient: I am about to tell you. We concluded to spend the winter in Rome, aunt and I: the Kenderdines remained in Paris. Aunt preceded me to Brussels about two weeks to explore the libraries there, as we were to make the Rhine tour before going to Italy. I should have accompanied her, but we were expecting a remittance from home that had not arrived, and I was obliged to wait for it. The day before I left Paris I was regretting that I had not been to Montmorency, and Mr. Kenderdine, who overheard me, proposed that as I did not mind fatigue we should go. By starting early in the morning we could make our 'last day,' as he called it, a fête. I consented, and we arranged to take the early train to Enghien, to breakfast there, ride through Montmorency to the Château de la Chasse, where we could have dinner, and return in time for the Belgian train in the evening. The next morning I was ready, my riding-skirt in a satchel, and off we went. The day was perfect, the air cool and delicious. We took the cars at the Gare du Nord, and in less than an hour we arrived at Enghien, ordered breakfast at a charming little hotel that overlooks the lake, and had it brought to us on the balcony, from whence we could listen to the band playing, and look at the beautiful villas that border the water, watch the invalids taking their constitutionals, and see the brightly-painted boats bobbing over the small waves. While waiting for the horses, Fred made me go to the springs and taste the water, which is horrid: then we mounted and cantered leisurely on to Montmorency, a hilly, desolate-looking place, although so much lauded by the Parisians: I suppose the beautiful forest in the vicinity is its attraction. The road for the next five or six miles was shaded by trees, and most of it was a soft turf on which the horses' hoofs rebounded noiselessly, with views of rolling country at intervals. The château had been a hunting-lodge two or three hundred years ago, but nothing remains of it now but a couple of towers, to which a modern country inn has been added, where excellent dinners may be had, as I can testify. It is a great place for the picnics and pleasure-parties of the natives, but foreigners seldom visit it. After we had wandered about for several hours, enjoying ourselves in that silly French way, with nothing but light hearts, fresh air, green grass and blue sky for all incitement thereto, I, in consideration of my evening journey, recommended our return. We had the horses brought round, and then my career commenced."
"Why, how?"
"You know that road from the château? No you don't, but I will tell you of it. The woods lie on one side, and an ivy-covered wall separates it from sloping fields on the other—the prettiest place on earth." ("Artistic," thought I: "she has decided on landscape-painting;" but I did not interrupt.) "It was just there that Mr. Kenderdine came to my side: he had dismounted to open the gate, and was leading his horse. He came to my side, and, looking up at me, said half seriously, half smiling, 'You are very happy to-day, Miss Eleanor: what will you do when I am not with you to ride and walk and talk to?'