unrestrained joy
of that fortnight! Everybody at the hotels seemed to know by instinct
that we were a newly-married pair, and knowing glances passed between
them. But what did we care? With pride and a conscious embarrassment
that made my hand tremble, I wrote on the registers in a bold hand
"Charles Travers and wife." I asked for the best room with a pleasant
out-look. The smiling clerk, trained to dissimulation, would appear as
unconscious as the blank safe behind him, but he knew all the while, the
sly rascal, that we were on a wedding trip, and he paid special
attention to our comfort. We saw the glories and wonders of the
mountains, and shared their inspiration as with a single heart. We rose
early to drink the clear air and greet the rising sun together. We
strolled out in the evening to romantic spots, and there, with arms
around each other, as we walked or stood gazing on the scene and
listening to the rustling breeze, we were happy. For two weeks our lives
blended with each other and with nature, and it was with a sigh that we
mounted the lumbering stage to take up our sojourn in the retired town
on the hills. We came to the little hotel just at night, and were stared
at and commented upon by those who had been there three days and assumed
the air of having had possession for years. We were tired, and kept
aloof that evening, and the next day mother-in-law arrived.

As she dismounted from the coach, she gave the driver a severe warning
to be careful of her trunk, an iron-bound treasure that would have
defied the efforts of the most determined baggage-smasher. Bessie had
flown to meet her, and their greeting was affectionate; but to me the
old lady presented a hand encased in a mitt, or sort of glove with
amputated fingers, and gave me a stately, "I hope you are well, sir,"
that rather made me feel sick. She looked full at me in her steady and
commanding way, as much as to say, "Well, you have committed no
atrocious crime yet, I suppose; but I am rather surprised at it."

If there is anything I pride myself on, it is self-possession and a
willingness to face anybody and give as good as I get, but that
magnificently imperious way of looking with those large eyes always
disconcerted me. I could not brace myself enough to meet them with any
show of impudence, though the old lady had not ceased to regard that as
the chief trait of my character. As Mrs. Pinkerton trod with stately
step the rude piazza of that summer