RRIVING at the lake by a circuitous path, they found themselves on the banks of a lovely sheet of water, several hundred feet wide and perhaps a mile in length. The distinct reflection of the foliage, trees and mountains, which rose several hundred feet on the opposite side, made a double picture of enchanting loveliness.
“We have been waiting for you,” said Bertha Allen, in a flute-like voice. She was a cooing sort of a young lady, with a dainty lisp, which she evidently regarded as becoming. She embraced Louise and gave her one of her sweetest kisses, and in a half sotto voice lisped, “how beautiful you look to-day!”
Vance was presented, and Bertha honored him with one of her stateliest bows. There was no alternative, as Boast extended his hand and observed that he had met Mr. Gilder before, but to accept the situation and make the best of it.
Vance saw in Bertha Allen a young lady of about five and twenty, rather tall and slender, with a wasp-like waist. She had a small head and face, with heavy braids of dark brown hair, which corresponded with her long eyelashes of a dark hue. Her eyes never looked straight at anyone, but she continually practiced a bewitching habit of shy observation, evidently considering it fascinating. Her mouth was small, and a noticeable dimple was in her chin. There was a delicate pink upon her cheeks, which Vance noticed as the day wore on, did not come and go, but remained as one of her permanent features. There was a poetry in her movements, however, which admirably fitted her slow, soft tone of lisping-speech. Her slender form was robed in a pretty costume of pink, with black lace and ribbons. It was a costume of frills and laces, coquetishly arranged, making her graceful figure more symmetrical in arrangement. There were puffings here and there, which concealed defects, if any existed, and revealed her womanly charms to the best advantage. She talked a good deal, and called Louise her own “dear darling.” Here every sentence was a lisp, and she told Cousin Arthur he was “simply horrid to kill the poor worms in baiting the hooks.”
Vance noticed that Roast was ready at any time to neglect his stylish cousin to engage in conversation with Louise. He found himself interpreting Bertha Allen’s attempts to entertain and interest him, as the act of an accomplice, to enable Boast to have a tete-a-tete with Louise. There was consolation, however, in the fact that he did not believe Louise favored Arthur Boast’s attentions.
“How Arthur and Louise are enjoying themselves!” lisped Bertha Allen, in a sweet, confiding way, to Vance.
“Do you think their enjoyment is superior to ours?” asked Vance.
“No more than mine,” she replied demurely, “but possibly more than yours.” This was followed by a silvery little laugh.