Part 6 (2/2)

He removes his hand, and with a defiant look Eleanor flings the coin into the lake, watching it whirl below with redoubled interest.

”Gott!” mutters the boatman under his breath, ”what tevilry.”

Then, without a sign of shame, Eleanor pa.s.ses a handful of money to the sunburnt fellow, casting a smile of ineffable sweetness upon him.

”For the little ones,” she says.

But Philip's brow is still black.

”It was wicked,” he repeats.

Eleanor only laughs.

”You deserve to want in the future.”

”The future,” she replies lightly, ”who thinks of the future? It may be dark enough to frighten the very life out of you--a thing to make you scream----”

Philip shudders. Storm clouds are gathering overhead. This is the last day of his honeymoon.

CHAPTER IV.

LIFE IS A JEST.

A great red sun that is warm and kind sinks behind the golden trees, rich with autumnal tints, as Philip and Eleanor drive up to ”Lyndhurst,” on Richmond Terrace.

”So this is your home--_my_ home?” she cries, her eyes sparkling with delight as they rest on her new abode. ”Ring very loud and long, Philip; I am dying to be in!”

The door is almost immediately opened by a buxom maiden with rosy cheeks and a lenient smile, which alights on the youthful mistress.

Eleanor bounds into the hall, and waves a feather boa joyfully over her head.

”Hurrah! _Ancestors_,” she cries, saluting the old pictures on the wall with mock courtesy. ”Real dead ancestors in wigs, and you _never_ told me, Philip!”

[Ill.u.s.tration: Saluting the old pictures on the wall with mock courtesy.]

She is standing, gazing on them joyfully as the luggage is brought in, pointing with her umbrella at a wrinkled judge.

”They have seldom received such admiration,” he says gently. ”Poor old things, they disfigure the walls sadly with their grim faces.”

”The lady on the left is simpering; and, oh! here is a tiger rug,”

stumbling over a head on the ground. ”I caught my heel on his nose,”

as Philip prevents her falling by seizing her elbow.

”Show me which is my room. I am longing to see it,” she continues, taking two steps at a time in her eager ascent. ”Sarah,” calling to her maid, ”bring those three hat boxes and my cloak, there's a good soul! Come on, Philip, I'll race you to the top.”

He feels as if he is playing with a child, as he rushes over the house after Eleanor. The day of the school treat returns to his mind, he fancies he sees her still, running through the long gra.s.s.

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