of woodland here and there, quite different from the rocky hillsides
covered with grape-vines and olives that we have seen so much of all
through Italy. The roads are fine, and a rush through the fresh air
is so intoxicating to me, as you know, that even the company of two
lovers, so absorbed in each other that they probably did not know
whether they were in Italy or in Ireland, was quite powerless to
take off the keen edge of my enjoyment, beside which I could talk to
Margaret and Dr. A., who pointed out all the places of interest to
us as we sped along. We did not stop in the town of Varese, as the
Grand Hôtel on Lake Varese was our destination. Here we sat out in the
garden overlooking the lake, with a fine view of the whole chain of the
Western Alps spread before us, "a fine panorama," as the Doctor calls
it. We had tea on the terrace and enjoyed ourselves generally, Dr. A.
and Mr. Leonard trying which could tell the most amusing stories.
We flew home from Varese on the wings of the wind, far faster than
we made the trip there, and as we drew up before the villa, Margaret
laughing and talking to Dr. A., by far the gayest of the party, whom
should we see standing on the piazza but Mr. Ramsey!
Such a curious expression crossed his face when he saw
Margaret--surprise, wonder, something like pain; and she grew so pale
that I expected her to faint the next minute. Dr. A. whisked a bottle
of something out of his pocket and called for water and gave Margaret
some drops, all in such a professional manner that Mr. Ramsay's
spirits revived as quickly as if he had taken the dose himself, and
by the time the invalid was ready to get out of the car both their
faces were as red as peonies. The Doctor and Mr. Ramsay then shook
hands in a friendly manner, which was a relief to my mind, as for the
first few minutes visions of pistols and coffee at five o'clock in
the morning floated through my brain. They really did glare at each
other at first. As they helped Margaret out very carefully, a question
suddenly occurred to me: how did Mr. Ramsay know anything about the
sprained ankle? Papa always said that I would make a good detective. I
turned suddenly to Mr. Leonard with my question. From his confused and
unsatisfactory answer, and a quizzical look in his eyes when he met
Mr. Ramsay's, I am almost certain that there has been some collusion
between the two. I have been counting the days since Margaret's
accident, and I find that Mr. Ramsay sailed two days after it. He took
a fast steamer and landed at Southampton, all of which confirms me in
my suspicion that Mr. Leonard sent him a cablegram. You don't approve
of betting, mammy dear, but I am quite willing to wager my new Leghorn
hat, which Margaret says is very becoming, against Z.'s fine pearl
necklace, that Mr. Leonard gave her, that he had a hand in this, having
learned by experience that sudden appearances are sometimes the most
satisfactory ways of settling difficulties of long standing. I shall
probably know all about this some day, and whatever Mr. Leonard did or
did not do, he will doubtless be forgiven, as from present appearances
I should say that Margaret is incapable of cherishing anger against any
living thing.
June 30th.
And now, dearest mammy, what do you think of my two frisky chaperons,
who planned this trip for their own improvement and mine?
There is to be a double wedding, of course. Z.'s date is postponed
until some time later in July; as soon as the happy day is named I will
let you know.
Before I close this long letter I must tell you of the wedding journey
that Margaret and Mr. Ramsay are planning--nothing less sentimental
than to come back to Italy and visit all the places that she has been
writing about in her letters. They, the places, will not look half
so pretty in the autumn as in the spring, but that won't make much
difference to them. If they invite me very cordially, I may go with
them. You see, I shall be reduced to the necessity of tagging on to
one of these couples, or of marrying some one myself for the sake of
having a travelling companion, unless you and papa come over here and
look after me a bit. Another reason for your coming: there is no proper
person to give Margaret away. Mrs. Coxe says that I shall have to do
it, as the dignified chaperon of the party. I really think that this
and my unprotected position are sufficient reasons for papa's coming to
the wedding, so make your plans, like a dear, and work papa up to the
starting-point. Dr. Vernon is to join us in Paris, so Z. will be given
away by her natural protector.
Mrs. Coxe is going up to London for the wedding, and I am quite certain
that Margaret's young Italian friend, Ludovico Baldini, will be there,
and perhaps the Marquis de B.--who knows? I for one do not.
Margaret's ankle is almost well; she walked the length of the piazza
to-day, with the Doctor on one side and Mr. Ramsay on the other. The
Doctor is delighted with the improvement in his patient, and yet he
looks quite serious when we talk of leaving next week for Lucerne, _en
route_ for Paris. Here he comes to ask me to take a spin in his auto
car. As Margaret and Z. are both up on the hillside with their suitors
(I have given up all attempts to chaperon them), I shall have to look
up Mrs. Coxe and make her go with me. She hates automobiles, poor
soul!--says they take away her breath and make her heart thump, but she
will have to go all the same. I shouldn't in the least object to going
with Dr. A. alone, but he would be scandalized at the mere mention
of such a reckless proceeding, so Mrs. Coxe must be sacrificed to the
proprieties.
I wish you knew Dr. A. He is a perfect dear. I am sure that you would
like him.
This is the longest letter that I have ever written, but then there
was so much to tell you, and as Margaret seems to have forgotten how to
write, some one must do it for the party. Hoping to see you and papa in
Paris or London, believe me
Your affectionate daughter,
ANGELA.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved.
The text uses the spelling/punctuation Sant' Angelo, Lung' Arno, and
bell 'alma, which have been retained.