_On the private car_.
DEAREST MAMMA,--My spirits have quite recovered; you can't imagine the
fun we are having! We only stayed the day in San Francisco to look round
at those Golden Gates and other things. The astonishing pluck of the
people, reconstructing the whole town with twenty storey houses on
the old sites! One would think they would be afraid of their being
earthquaked again, but not a bit, and the city part is nearly all
re-made. Everything being brand new is naturally not so interesting as
the results of the tragedy, but you have read all about it so often
there is no use my telling you. We were shown one of the "graft"
buildings, and one wonders how they were able to put it up without
people seeing the tricks at the time. There are numbers of ways to get
rich, aren't there?
Finally the whole party started for Los Angeles, passing down the coast.
A company of ten, five drawing-rooms were naturally impossible; indeed
we could only get two, so this time Octavia and I insisted upon sleeping
under the green curtains and let the girls have our drawing-room,
because we wanted to see what it was like. They said they often
travelled like that, and did not mind a bit; but we insisted, and we
felt quite excited when bed-time came! Lola and the husband had the
other drawing-room, and the Senator and Tom the section next to us on
one side, and the Vicomte and secretary the one on the other, so we were
well guarded.
We laughed so tremendously undressing;--Lola let us take off the outside
things with her and Agnès and Wilbor helping made so many remarks and
fuss, we sent them off to their berths, and crept in dressing-gowns to
our section, which was fortunately by the door. Of course Gaston was
waiting to know if he could be of any use, because he said I would
remember he could be a "très habile" lady's maid years ago on the
Sauterelle! But we would not let him tuck us up, and so he got into his
own and peeped out through the curtains while Tom and the Senator saw we
were all right.
I had the top of ours, so had Gaston of theirs, and ever so many times
he tapped on the division. I do hope the other people thought it was a
mouse; but when he began to give terrible sighs, and at last exclaimed,
"Sapristi!" they must have wondered what was the matter. He was so
dreadfully tiresome and restless, the poor secretary could not get a
wink of sleep, he told me to-day; and at last fearing he was ill he
climbed up and offered him some brandy. He must be a very good man, the
secretary said, because he found him kneeling with his forehead pressed
against the division which separated him from me, evidently saying his
prayers. Aren't the French odd? And when I asked him next day how he had
slept he looked at me with eyes of the deepest reproach and said I
had taken care he could not sleep; just as though it was I who was
troublesome and snored! Wasn't it crazy of him, Mamma? And since he has
devoted himself entirely to Mercédès, and I am perfectly thankful, as
very soon at the first mining town we are expecting Mr. Renour!
We have two tables of four for meals, and whichever two have been
naughty we put at a little one by themselves; and it is generally Tom
and Columbia. They are getting on splendidly, and Octavia is so pleased,
as she was afraid Tom might grow bored and give up the trip and go
straight on to Mexico: Englishman can't stay long without killing
things, can they, Mamma, and they never think about their wives'
pleasure, as the Americans do. The dear Senator divides himself between
Octavia and me, and when she has the secretary she gets him to give her
information about the country, and we are all as happy as possible. Mr.
Renour is bringing a friend with him, so that will make twelve. The
coast is pretty, but I can't describe scenery, especially as all of this
has been done dozens of times before, and also, though it is beautiful,
it is rather of a sameness; and half the time, having been so long in
the train we did not look out, there are such a number of amusing things
to do in a party like this.
Lola's husband is a poor creature; how she adores him as she does is a
mystery; he simply "don't amount to anything;" only he is beautifully
dressed, like an Englishman, and has as nice socks as Harry. The
Senator, without asking me any questions, has soothed me so that I am
not feeling as cross as I was, though I am determined not to go near
Harry again for months and months. When we get back, if he is still in
Africa with that creature, I shall take the children for a voyage
round the world. He shall see he can't behave like a brute to me with
impunity. But yesterday morning when that silly little Vinerhorn wore
a shirt of Charvet's of exactly the same silk as I chose Harry last in
Paris, a nasty feeling came in my throat, and I seemed to see his blue
eyes flashing angry flames at me like when we said good-bye.
Just think, Mamma, all these years since I have been married I have
never so much as looked at anyone else. He has kept me knowing hardly
anything more of the world than I did then. But I am not going to _stay_
stupid I can assure you! If he can go off to Africa with Mrs. Smith, why
can't I play with Mr. Renour?
(I am tired of Gaston, really.)
The second night in the train was quite peaceful. We went to bed before
they came in from smoking, and Octavia had the top berth and heard
nothing, so I suppose the Vicomte said his prayers with his forehead
glued against the other side. And when we arrived at Los Angeles there
was the private car. It is so comfortable. The salon at the end has an
observation veranda on it, and at night three berths let down in it for
three of the men, and in the dining-room three others can sleep. The
Senator has a tiny place to himself. The Vinerhorns, who never will be
separated, have one cabin, and Tom and Octavia the other. Octavia says
she likes experiences, and she had no idea Tom could be so handy, for
Wilbor and Agnès and all the valets have been sent on to the Osages
City in an ordinary train and he had to dress her. I am in the larger
compartment with the two girls, and we have only one enormous bed for
the three of us! And it does seem quaint, Mamma, sleeping with women. I
felt quite shy at first; then we laughed so we could not get to sleep.
They are perfect angels and do everything for me, and make me so vain
admiring my hair being so long and curly. Columbia brushed it for half
an hour last night, and we were just in the middle of it when we pulled
up at a small station, on the beginning of the mining world, and to our
surprise Mr. Renour and his friend got in. We heard the noise and the
greetings and all peeped out to see, and the Senator, sans gêne, brought
them down the passage to say how do you do.
Mr. Renour does look a pet! He was (and still is to-day) in miner's
dress, and it is corduroy trousers tucked into high-laced boots and a
grey flannel shirt with a shallow turn down collar which has been turned
up again, looking like a Lord Palmerton, or someone of that date; a
loose tie and a corduroy Norfolk jacket, all a sort of earth colour
except the tie, which is blue. The friend is the same, and they both
have queer American-looking sort of sombrero greenish felt hats, and the
friend hasn't even a tie.
We were glad to see them, at least I was. We were all in dressing-gowns,
with our hair down, and the girls pretended to hide behind me and be
coy, and we played the fool just like children. It was fun, Mamma, and
think of the faces of Harry's two aunts, the Duchess and Lady Archibald,
if they could have seen me being so undignified. But here no one has any
nasty thoughts, they are all happy and natural and innocent as kittens,
and I am enjoying myself.
Gaston is frightfully jealous of the newcomers, but he is too much of a
polished gentleman to be disagreeable over it; it is only the English
who have remained savages in that respect, showing their tempers as
plainly as a child would do. If you remember, Harry had a thunderous
face before we were married, whenever I teased him, and since, my
heavens! If people even look a good deal in a restaurant he is annoyed.
But I don't mind so much, because my time has always been taken up with
him making love to me himself. It is the cold ones who are jealous just
from vanity that are insupportable, as it is not that they love the
woman so much themselves as because they think it is "dam cheek"
(forgive me, Mamma) for any other man to dare to look at _their_
belongings? Now American men don't seem jealous at all; they are so kind
they are thinking of the woman's pleasure, not their own. Really, I am
sure in the long run they must be far nicer to live with--not a tenth
part as vain as Englishmen.
The most jolly looking, jet-black old nigger in white duck livery
brought us our coffee in the morning. His face is a full moon of
laughter. No one could feel gloomy if he were near, and his voice, like
a little child's, is as sweet as a bird, and such delightful phrasing.
He has been with the Senator for fifteen years and couldn't live "way
from de car." His name is Marcus Aurelius, and I am sure he is just as
great a philosopher as the Emperor was.
The girls have known him since they were babies, of course, and it
is such fun to hear him talking to them, a mixture of authority,
worshipping affection, and familiarity, which I believe only old niggers
can have.
"A pretty sight to see dem tree young ladies as happy as birds in dar
nests;" we heard him telling Gaston just outside, when he met on his way
to the bath (there are two lovely bath-rooms).
So Gaston said he was sure the coffee-pot was heavy and he could not
hold so many plates, and he would with pleasure help him with our
breakfast. But Tom, who joined them, said Marcus Aurelius must not set
fire to tinder, and that he was the only one of the party who could be
considered suitable to be morning waiter, being my cousin and a married
man. We were so entertained beyond the open door, and were quite
surprised at Gaston's silence, until we saw his face reflected in the
looking glass, where he had been gazing at us all the time through the
crack! What a mercy on a picnic of this kind that we all look so lovely
in bed! We felt it our duty to scream, and then Marcus Aurelius shut the
door. Are you fearfully shocked at my being so schoolgirlish, Mamma?
Don't be, I shall get old directly I get back home, and it is all the
infectious gaiety of these dear merry girls.
Everybody was ready for breakfast, and we had rather a squash to get
seated, and had to be very near. Mr. Renour was next me, and he is
simply delightful in a party; and the friend, Octavia says, is exactly
her affair, as she is past thirty, and he is a charming boy of
twenty-two.
There is a nigger cook and he makes such lovely corn cakes and rolls and
agreeable breakfast dishes, and we were all so hungry.
Mr. Renour had been down to this other place on business, and there
waited to board us sooner.
The country seemed to grow more desolate and grim as we went on. After
breakfast we sat outside in the observation car together, and he told me
all about it, and the way they prospect to find the ore. And everything
one hears makes one respect their pluck and endurance more. He asked
me to call him Nelson; he said Mr. Renour was so "kinder stiff" and he
wasn't used to it, so I did, but the good taste which characterizes
everything about him made him never suggest he should be familiar with
me. He was just as gentle and dear as anyone could be, and seemed to be
trying to efface the remembrance in my mind that he had ever rather made
love to me.
Life had always been so kind to him, he said, even though from a child
he had always had to work so hard. He said the Senator was the biggest
man he had ever seen (meaning by that the biggest soul), and it was
owing to his help and encouragement and splendid advice, that he had
been able to stand out against the other sharks who wanted to get the
shares of his mine when at one moment he was a "bit shaky"; and now all
was well, and he would soon be many times a millionaire. Then I asked
him what he would do with it, and he said, "I'll just make those nearest
to me happy and then those further off; and then I'll set my brains to
devise some scheme to benefit my country; and p'r'aps you'd help me,"
he said. "You great ladies in England think so much of the poor and
suffering. I don't want just to put my name on big charities; p'r'aps
you'd suggest something which could be of value?"
His whole face is so fine and open, Mamma, and his lithe, sinewy figure
reminds me of the Ludovici Mars; not quite so slender as Harry and Tom,
but just as strong, and those balanced lines of rugged strength are
quite as beautiful. I wonder what one of the meaty Easterners would look
beside him, if they could both have nothing on and be made in bronze!
"I think I'd like to marry an English girl," he said at last. "Our women
are very beautiful and very smart, but yours have a tenderness which
appeals to me. I could do with a mighty lot of love when once I took one
for my own." Then he said he had always kept his ideal of a woman, and
when he found her she should have him, "body and heart and soul." And
think, Mamma, what a fortunate woman she would be, wouldn't she?
He is quite different here to in France or on the boat; he has a quiet
dignity and ease, and that perfect calm of a man of the world on his own
ground. I think there must be something Irish about him, too, for he has
a strain of sentiment and melancholy which can come directly after his
most brilliant burst of spirits. We stayed there talking for about an
hour undisturbed, and then the Senator opened the door and joined us.
"You are as quiet as mice, my children," he said, "what have you been
doing?"
And Nelson looked up at him, his eyes full of mist.
"Just dreamin'," he said. "All on a bright spring morning."
And now I must stop, Mamma, for this must be posted at the next station
to catch the mail.
Your affectionate daughter,