A Journey of Joy
[Illustration: “‘ISN’T IT LOVELY TO LOOK DOWN ON THE HISTORIC CITY?’”]
_A JOURNEY
OF JOY_
_BY
AMY E. BLANCHARD_
_Author of “Two Girls,” “Three Pretty Maids,” “A Girl of ’76,”
“Janet’s College Career,” etc._
_Illustrated by
L. J. BRIDGMAN_
[Illustration]
_BOSTON
DANA ESTES & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS_
_Copyright, 1908_
BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
_COLONIAL PRESS_
_Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U.S.A._
_To my niece, May, whose dear companionship added many joys to the days
in which we journeyed together, I dedicate this story._
_A. E. B._
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I. OUR WAY ACROSS THE SEA 11
II. UNDER THE WALLS OF PARADISE 20
III. IN HONOR OF A QUEEN 39
IV. THE BRITON 54
V. ROMANCES 68
VI. ROSES 82
VII. “IN A GONDOLA” 96
VIII. FROM SEA TO MOUNTAIN 110
IX. BELLS 124
X. “CHIEFLESS CASTLES” 141
XI. THREE HUNDRED WINDMILLS 157
XII. A TEMPEST IN AN INK-BOTTLE 173
XIII. HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN A RUSSIAN 187
XIV. WHITHER? TOGETHER 203
XV. A MEDIÆVAL TOWN 220
XVI. A GOOD CROSSING 234
XVII. CONFESSIONS 248
XVIII. ST. GILES’S FAIR 263
XIX. SKIRLING PIPES 278
XX. THE OTHER GENTLEMAN 294
List of Illustrations
PAGE
“‘ISN’T IT LOVELY TO LOOK DOWN ON THE HISTORIC
CITY?’” (_See page 93_) _Frontispiece_
“VIEW FROM THE MONASTERY” 58
“THE GONDOLA DRIFTED OUT UPON THE SILENT WATERS” 106
“‘HERE, HERE,’ CALLED MISS CAVENDISH, ‘YOU ARE
MISSING ALL THE BEAUTIFUL SCENERY’” 150
“‘IT IS A VERY IMPORTANT CITY, HISTORICALLY, COMMERCIALLY
AND ARTISTICALLY’” 174
“‘THERE IS A LITTLE OLD CHURCH NEXT TO CROSBY
HALL ... AND WE SHALL WANT TO SEE THAT’” 239
“THEY WERE REWARDED BY SIGHT OF A COMPANY UNDER INSPECTION” 275
A Journey of Joy
CHAPTER I
OUR WAY ACROSS THE SEA
It was the close of a gusty day in late November when two persons sat
watching the early dusk close down upon the outside world. A long
line of light still lingered behind the purple hills upon which there
stood out a few houses silhouetted against the primrose yellow of the
sky. Within the nearer confines of the lawn the leafless trees looked
dim and shadowy. The whirl of eddying leaves against the wall sounded
ghostly, and the rattling of the vines against the side of the house
suggested wintriness.
“And in Italy,” murmured the elder of the two women, “it will be all
sunshine and light.”
“Italy?” There was a question in her companion’s voice.
“Yes, I am going there.”
“Alone? You surely are not going alone.”
“No, Sidney is going with me.”
“Sidney? Oh, I am jealous,” the girl responded petulantly. “As if it
were not enough that Sidney has a grandfather with lashings of money,
a beautiful home, a devoted brother, an indulgent mother, while I am a
poverty-stricken wretch whose blessed little mother must turn and twist
and contrive to make both ends meet;--as if all this were not enough
but you, my own godmother, who is mine by birthright, must be spirited
away from me for a mess of pottage,--for pottage read spaghetti; that’s
what they live on in Italy, I believe,--and I must sit and smile during
the process of spiriting.”
“But Gabriella, dear, Sidney is also my goddaughter.”
“Yes, worse luck; I always did hate her for it.”
“Gabriella! you do no such thing. You are devoted to Sidney.”
“I might be if she were not so aggressively well off.”
“She is the least aggressive person I know. You rarely find a more
simple-hearted girl.”
“Clothe her in hand-me-downs, and she might be, but exaggerated wealth
stands out in her tailor-made gowns and her hats.”
“That is where you err; the tailor-made gowns do not add one iota to
her figure, and the hats are never becoming.”
Gabriella did not heed the interruption. “And in her furs and feathers
and jewelry--”
“Which she never wears obtrusively. She will display no jewels on our
travels, I can assure you. Don’t be cantankerous, Gabriella.”
“Oh, I must be. I always have had a grudge against Sidney since the
day we were christened at the same font and she behaved so beautifully
while I yelled like sin. Even then I must have had a foreknowledge of
what our relative positions in life would be.”
“You are the silliest child, Gabriella.”
“But in spite of that fact you love me, don’t you, Gem?”
“Of course I do, and that is why I am going to take you abroad with me.”
“Dearest Gem, is this a make-believe such as you are so fond of getting
up at this charmed hour, or have you suddenly fallen heir to a fortune,
or what? Please explain yourself. When you speak in that assured manner
of taking me to Europe I feel myself getting weak in the knees.”
Miss Cavendish laughed. “Will you positively go with me, Gabriella?”
“Will a duck swim? Oh, Gem of purest ray serene, do tell me what you
are driving at. Speak seriously as one who would not trifle with sacred
things. Please don’t be frivolous where such a subject is concerned.
Sidney as Sidney is bad enough, but Sidney and you and Europe; I cannot
endure the combination.”
Miss Cavendish leaned back in her chair and fixed her eyes upon the
distant hills, now an irregular line against the fast-fading primrose
yellow. “You know, Gabriella,” she began, “I have been thinking for
a long time of going to Europe, but I didn’t want to go alone and
I didn’t want to go with a casual companion. A dozen friends and
acquaintances have proposed my joining some special party, but, my
dear, there is no undertaking in life, except marriage, which involves
such nicety of choice as the selection of a travelling companion. One
is too fussy, another too delicate, a third interested in exactly the
opposite things to those which interest you, still another cannot
endure _pensions_ but insists upon hotels, or perhaps is nothing
of a pedestrian but must take a carriage everywhere, and so on. I
never realized how many objections could arise till I gave careful
consideration to the merits and demerits of my various acquaintances.
So the more I thought the matter over the more I felt inclined to
venture alone with Sidney, if she would go, and you, if you could be
persuaded to leave your native land.”
“Persuaded!” ejaculated Gabriella under her breath.
“So then,” Miss Cavendish continued, “although I know but little
French, less German and no Italian, I am not afraid to personally
conduct our small party. I believe we could travel more cheaply than
if we were to join a company of regulation tourists; certainly we
could be more independent, and the opportunity for adventure would
be unlimited. When I broached my plan to Sidney,--you know I spent
Thanksgiving with the Shaws,--she was most enthusiastic, and though I
made certain stipulations, she agreed to everything and is in a state
of great excitement over the prospect. Since her mother has never
felt that there was a time that she could leave old Mr. Shaw, Sidney
has yet to take her first trip abroad. Mrs. Shaw declares she would
not willingly trust her with anyone but me, and Sidney has agreed to
travel in my way, that is in a very economical manner which involves no
superfluous expenditures, unless they be of a purely personal nature.
So, you see, my dear, we shall all be on exactly the same footing.”
“Rather nice of Sid to agree to that, considering what she has to
spend. But I don’t yet see my place in this scheme of things.”
“You will see,” Miss Cavendish went on. “I have been looking up
travelling rates and _pensions_ and Baedekers, so, with this, that
and the other, I know pretty well what can be done, and I believe a
thousand dollars will cover our expenses for six months and give us a
very good time.”
“A thousand dollars apiece, you mean?”
“No, a thousand dollars for the two of us. It will be cheaper for two
to travel together than for one, and cheaper still for three. I don’t
suppose that amount will buy us many Paris gowns or much Brussels
lace, but I am pretty sure it will cover all but the luxuries. Now, I
have the thousand dollars which I have set aside for this trip, and I
shall be much happier if I can take both my goddaughters with me. Will
you go?”
“But dearest, it seems perfectly sinful to spend all that money on me.
Are you sure you ought to do it?”
“I’m very sure that I’d rather stay over there six months with you
and Sidney than to go by myself, and I am also sure that I would much
prefer your society to that of a party of strangers whose doxies
might not be my doxies. When I mentioned your going to Sidney she
was delighted. She spoke much more sweetly of you than you of her,
though she does envy you your ready wit, your looks and your general
adaptability.”
“I’ll sell them all for her ducats.”
“Because you know you can’t.”
“Sidney is a dear; I always loved her.”
“A moment ago you always hated her.”
“That was because I saw everything being poured into her lap. Now that
I am to share her good times I love her. I love everybody. I love
everything to the meanest worm that crawls. I never knew before what a
broadly charitable spirit I possessed. It is a beautiful world and I
well know that the loveliest spot in the universe is Italy. When do you
think of sailing, Gem, dear?”
“About the middle of March.”
“And what shall I need?”
“I intend to take only such clothing as shall be necessary for three
months travel through Italy and Switzerland. This can all be stowed
away in a small hand trunk which will not have to be registered as we
can carry it from place to place without having it put in the baggage
car, or the luggage van, as they will call it. It can be toted across
platforms by a porter who will put it in the rack over our heads and
there it will be in plain sight all the way. One steamer trunk will do
for the two of us; it can be stored, and be sent to us when we need it
for our return trip. When we get to Paris, if fripperies so possess
our souls that we need room for them, we can easily buy a light wicker
trunk. I must confess to indulging in an anticipation of doing that
very thing.”
“How delightful it all sounds,” said Gabriella, hugging her knees.
“Are you sure it is not a make-believe; one of those lovely twilight
dreams you always have been so fond of summoning for my entertainment,
especially when I used to call you Auntie Belle, and before I
discovered that you were a true gem. What a happy discovery it was when
I grew so big that to call a woman fifteen years my senior, godmother
seemed ridiculous, and I cut it down to G. M., which to my delight
one day resolved itself into Gem. It is the nicest name in the world
and just suits you, for if ever there were a gem it is you, dearest
Isabella Cavendish, Auntie Belle, godmother, Gem. What a dear you have
been to me ever since I got red in the face and doubled up my fists as
if to fight the world, the flesh and the devil bodily, while I howled
lustily in the arms of dear little Belle Cavendish, who had made my
christening robe and who held me tight in spite of my squirmings and
battlings with my mottled pink fists. Oh, I can see it all. I can see
us later, too, when I was a witch of three, you a dainty young lady of
eighteen, who used to take me to see good little Sidney Shaw. I can
remember climbing all over you and weeping on your silken shoulder
because Sidney would not let me wash her face. I can remember the
hoodlum at eight, too, when I came to your house and slid down the
haircloth cushions of the sofa till cushions and I came to the floor
together and I knocked out a tooth which for days I had refused to have
drawn though it fairly waggled with looseness. I can remember how dear
you were to me that day; in fact there are days all along when you have
pulled me out of difficulties and have stablished my goings, and now
comes the crowning act of all. If I tried to thank you in the right way
I couldn’t do it. All my thanks are inside, but they choke me when I
try to say them.”
“Don’t try to say them, then. Suppose we light up and look over that
pile of folders and plans on my desk. I purpose sailing by way of the
Mediterranean directly to Naples. It will not be so cold nor so rough
as the northern route.”
“Spring in Italy! Oh, goddess mother, you are indeed a fairy godmother.”
Miss Cavendish laughed. “What a contradiction of terms. If you lose
your wits at this early stage of the proceedings, what will you do when
we are really landed at Naples?”
“Oh, it sounds so delicious. I am actually cold and shivery. Just wait
a minute till I get my breath before we tackle that dear delightful
Baedeker. How familiar it will be before we are through with it. Ah,
I am glad I have not outlived my enthusiasms. Usually it is so much
easier to dream than to do, but now the doing will exceed the joy of
the dreaming.”