CHAPTER XVII. LA TERRASSE.

yourgod-daughterwithgossip,’andheparticularlydesiredmetokeepclosetomyownquarters,andspareyoumyfinecompany.Hesays,Lucy,hethinksyouhavehadanervousfever,judgingfromyourlook,—isthatso?” IrepliedthatIdidnotquiteknowwhatmyailmenthadbeen,butthatIhadcertainlysufferedagooddealespeciallyinmind.Further,onthissubject,Ididnotconsideritadvisabletodwell,forthedetailsofwhatIhadundergonebelongedtoaportionofmyexistenceinwhichIneverexpectedmygodmothertotakeashare.Intowhatanewregionwouldsuchaconfidencehaveledthathale,serenenature!Thedifferencebetweenherandmemightbefiguredbythatbetweenthestatelyshipcruisingsafeonsmoothseas,withitsfullcomplementofcrew,acaptaingayandbrave,andventurousandprovidentandthelife-boat,whichmostdaysoftheyearliesdryandsolitaryinanold,darkboat-house,onlyputtingtoseawhenthebillowsrunhighinroughweather,whencloudencounterswater,whendangeranddeathdividebetweenthemtheruleofthegreatdeep.No,the“LouisaBretton”neverwasoutofharbouronsuchanight,andinsuchascene:hercrewcouldnotconceiveitsothehalf-drownedlife-boatmankeepshisowncounsel,andspinsnoyarns. Sheleftme,andIlayinbedcontent:itwasgoodofGrahamtoremembermebeforehewentout. Mydaywaslonely,buttheprospectofcomingeveningabridgedandcheeredit.Then,too,Ifeltweak,andrestseemedwelcomeandafterthemorninghoursweregoneby,—thosehourswhichalwaysbring,eventothenecessarilyunoccupied,asenseofbusinesstobedone,oftaskswaitingfulfilment,avagueimpressionofobligationtobeemployed—whenthisstirringtimewaspast,andthesilentdescentofafternoonhushedhousemaidstepsonthestairsandinthechambers,Ithenpassedintoadreamymood,notunpleasant. Mycalmlittleroomseemedsomehowlikeacaveinthesea.Therewasnocolouraboutit,exceptthatwhiteandpalegreen,suggestiveoffoamanddeepwatertheblanchedcornicewasadornedwithshell-shapedornaments,andtherewerewhitemouldingslikedolphinsintheceiling-angles.Eventhatonetouchofcolourvisibleintheredsatinpincushionboreaffinitytocoraleventhatdark,shiningglassmighthavemirroredamermaid.WhenIclosedmyeyes,Iheardagale,subsidingatlast,bearinguponthehouse-frontlikeasettlingswelluponarock-base.Ihearditdrawnandwithdrawnfar,faroff,likeatideretiringfromashoreoftheupperworld—aworldsohighabovethattherushofitslargestwaves,thedashofitsfiercestbreakers,couldsounddowninthissubmarinehome,onlylikemurmursandalullaby. Amidstthesedreamscameevening,andthenMarthabroughtalightwithheraidIwasquicklydressed,andstrongernowthaninthemorning,Imademywaydowntothebluesaloonunassisted. Dr.John,itappears,hadconcludedhisroundofprofessionalcallsearlierthanusualhisformwasthefirstobjectthatmetmyeyesasIenteredtheparlourhestoodinthatwindow-recessoppositethedoor,readingtheclosetypeofanewspaperbysuchdulllightasclosingdayyetgave.Thefireshoneclear,butthelampstoodonthetableunlit,andteawasnotyetbroughtup. AstoMrs.Bretton,myactivegodmother—who,Iafterwardsfound,hadbeenoutintheopenairallday—layhalf-reclinedinherdeep-cushionedchair,actuallylostinanap.Hersonseeingme,cameforward.Inoticedthathetrodcarefully,nottowakethesleeperhealsospokelow:hismellowvoiceneverhadanysharpnessinitmodulatedasatpresent,itwascalculatedrathertosoothethanstartleslumber. “Thisisaquietlittlechateau,”heobserved,afterinvitingmetositnearthecasement.“Idon’tknowwhetheryoumayhavenoticeditinyourwalks:though,indeed,fromthechausséeitisnotvisiblejustamilebeyondthePortedeCrécy,youturndownalanewhichsoonbecomesanavenue,andthatleadsyouon,throughmeadowandshade,totheverydoorofthishouse.I