第7章

"Gracious! she IS exclusive!" she said. Winterbourne wondered whether she was seriously wounded, and for a moment almost wished that her sense of injury might be such as to make it becoming in him to attempt to reassure and comfort her.

He had a pleasant sense that she would be very approachable for consolatory purposes. He felt then, for the instant, quite ready to sacrifice his aunt, conversationally; to admit that she was a proud, rude woman, and to declare that they needn't mind her. But before he had time to commit himself to this perilous mixture of gallantry and impiety, the young lady, resuming her walk, gave an exclamation in quite another tone.

"Well, here's Mother! I guess she hasn't got Randolph to go to bed."The figure of a lady appeared at a distance, very indistinct in the darkness, and advancing with a slow and wavering movement.

Suddenly it seemed to pause.

"Are you sure it is your mother? Can you distinguish her in this thick dusk?" Winterbourne asked.

"Well!" cried Miss Daisy Miller with a laugh; "I guess I know my own mother.

And when she has got on my shawl, too! She is always wearing my things."The lady in question, ceasing to advance, hovered vaguely about the spot at which she had checked her steps.

"I am afraid your mother doesn't see you," said Winterbourne.

"Or perhaps," he added, thinking, with Miss Miller, the joke permissible--"perhaps she feels guilty about your shawl.""Oh, it's a fearful old thing!" the young girl replied serenely.

"I told her she could wear it. She won't come here because she sees you.""Ah, then," said Winterbourne, "I had better leave you.""Oh, no; come on!" urged Miss Daisy Miller.

"I'm afraid your mother doesn't approve of my walking with you."Miss Miller gave him a serious glance. "It isn't for me;it's for you--that is, it's for HER. Well, I don't know who it's for! But mother doesn't like any of my gentlemen friends.

She's right down timid. She always makes a fuss if I introduce a gentleman. But I DO introduce them--almost always.

If I didn't introduce my gentlemen friends to Mother,"the young girl added in her little soft, flat monotone, "I shouldn't think I was natural.""To introduce me," said Winterbourne, "you must know my name."And he proceeded to pronounce it.

"Oh, dear, I can't say all that!" said his companion with a laugh.

But by this time they had come up to Mrs. Miller, who, as they drew near, walked to the parapet of the garden and leaned upon it, looking intently at the lake and turning her back to them.

"Mother!" said the young girl in a tone of decision.

Upon this the elder lady turned round. "Mr. Winterbourne," said Miss Daisy Miller, introducing the young man very frankly and prettily.

"Common," she was, as Mrs. Costello had pronounced her;yet it was a wonder to Winterbourne that, with her commonness, she had a singularly delicate grace.

Her mother was a small, spare, light person, with a wandering eye, a very exiguous nose, and a large forehead, decorated with a certain amount of thin, much frizzled hair.

Like her daughter, Mrs. Miller was dressed with extreme elegance;she had enormous diamonds in her ears. So far as Winterbourne could observe, she gave him no greeting--she certainly was not looking at him. Daisy was near her, pulling her shawl straight.

"What are you doing, poking round here?" this young lady inquired, but by no means with that harshness of accent which her choice of words may imply.

"I don't know," said her mother, turning toward the lake again.

"I shouldn't think you'd want that shawl!" Daisy exclaimed.

"Well I do!" her mother answered with a little laugh.

"Did you get Randolph to go to bed?" asked the young girl.

"No; I couldn't induce him," said Mrs. Miller very gently.

"He wants to talk to the waiter. He likes to talk to that waiter."I was telling Mr. Winterbourne," the young girl went on;and to the young man's ear her tone might have indicated that she had been uttering his name all her life.

"Oh, yes!" said Winterbourne; "I have the pleasure of knowing your son."Randolph's mamma was silent; she turned her attention to the lake.

But at last she spoke. "Well, I don't see how he lives!""Anyhow, it isn't so bad as it was at Dover," said Daisy Miller.

"And what occurred at Dover?" Winterbourne asked.

"He wouldn't go to bed at all. I guess he sat up all night in the public parlor. He wasn't in bed at twelve o'clock:

I know that."

"It was half-past twelve," declared Mrs. Miller with mild emphasis.

"Does he sleep much during the day?" Winterbourne demanded.

"I guess he doesn't sleep much," Daisy rejoined.

"I wish he would!" said her mother. "It seems as if he couldn't.""I think he's real tiresome," Daisy pursued.

Then, for some moments, there was silence. "Well, Daisy Miller,"said the elder lady, presently, "I shouldn't think you'd want to talk against your own brother!""Well, he IS tiresome, Mother," said Daisy, quite without the asperity of a retort.

"He's only nine," urged Mrs. Miller.

"Well, he wouldn't go to that castle," said the young girl.

"I'm going there with Mr. Winterbourne."

To this announcement, very placidly made, Daisy's mamma offered no response. Winterbourne took for granted that she deeply disapproved of the projected excursion; but he said to himself that she was a simple, easily managed person, and that a few deferential protestations would take the edge from her displeasure.

"Yes," he began; "your daughter has kindly allowed me the honor of being her guide."Mrs. Miller's wandering eyes attached themselves, with a sort of appealing air, to Daisy, who, however, strolled a few steps farther, gently humming to herself. "I presume you will go in the cars,"said her mother.

"Yes, or in the boat," said Winterbourne.

"Well, of course, I don't know," Mrs. Miller rejoined.

"I have never been to that castle."

"It is a pity you shouldn't go," said Winterbourne, beginning to feel reassured as to her opposition.

And yet he was quite prepared to find that, as a matter of course, she meant to accompany her daughter.