to
exhibit an unholy remoteness from the natural. Cousin Elizabeth was, I
believe, rather afraid of being left alone with my mother. For her sake
I rejoiced to meet her servants hurrying up to her assistance. I
returned to the garden.

Elsa had not gone in; she sat on a seat with Victoria's baby in her
arms. Victoria was standing by, telling her how she ought and ought not
to hold the little creature. William Adolphus also had edged near and
stood hands in pockets, with a broad smile on his excellent countenance.
I paused and watched. He drew quite near to Victoria; she turned her
head, spoke to him, smiled and laughed merrily. Elsa tossed and tickled
the baby; both Victoria and William Adolphus looked pleased and proud.
It is easy to be too hard on life; one should make a habit of reflecting
occasionally out of what very unpromising materials happiness can be
manufactured. These four beings were at this moment, each and all of
them, incontestably happy. Ah, well, I must go and disturb them!

I walked up to the group. On the sight of me Victoria suppressed her
kindliness toward her husband; she did not wish me to make the mistake
of supposing that she was content. William Adolphus looked supremely
ashamed and uncomfortable. The child, being suddenly snatched by her
mother, puckered lips and brows and threatened tears. Elsa sprang up
with heightened colour and stood in an attitude of uneasiness. Why, yes,
I had disturbed their happiness very effectually.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you," I pleaded.

"Nonsense; we weren't doing anything," said Victoria. "I'll show you
your rooms, Elsa, shall I?"

Elsa, I believe, would have elected to be shown something much more
alarming than a bedroom in order to escape from my presence. She
accepted Victoria's offer with obvious thankfulness. The two went off
with the baby. William Adolphus, still rather embarrassed, took out a
cigar. We sat down side by side and both began to smoke. There was a
silence for several moments.

"She's a pretty girl," observed my brother-in-law at last.

"Very," I agreed.

"Seems a bit shy, though," he suggested, with a sidelong glance at me.

"She seemed to be getting on very well with you and the baby."

"Oh, yes, she was all right then," said William Adolphus.

"I suppose," said I, "that I frighten her rather."

William Adolphus took a long pull at his cigar, looked at the ash
carefully, and then gazed for some moments across the river t