found a cool corner in the library; and presently
Jane had to come in. "What is the matter with you, Robert? Why do you
sit there grinning like an idiot?" Perhaps a smile of benevolence had
overspread my striking countenance; and that's the way she distorts it.
I could not tell her what pleased me, so I said I had been reading a
comic paper. "You write your own comic papers, I suspect; and bad enough
they are. If you go on at this rate, you will end by editing the _Texas
Siftings_. Do try to be decent, brother, while you have a guest in the
house." I suppose she thinks that is a crushing rebuke, now. I said I
would try, and told her she had better join Clarice and Hartman, who
would probably be tired of each other by this time. Here again I have
played into the Princess' hands. She doesn't want Jim to see too much of
her at first, but to get used to the blinding glare by degrees, and take
his physic in small doses, until he can bear it in larger. At least I
hope so: if I've made a mistake and spoiled the procession, I'll learn
it soon enough. But Jane wouldn't go unless it was right: that's the
good of being a woman. You don't catch me interrupting them, or going
near the Princess when she has any of her procedures on foot, unless I
am called.

IX.

AT NEWPORT.

I could not tell you all that occurred that week; but it went exactly as
Clarice intended and had foretold. She was gracious and equable and
gentle, a model young lady of the social-domestic type; but Hartman did
not see much of her. I on my part was kept steadily occupied, what with
boats, and horses, and parasols, and fans, and wools, and wide hats, and
more things than you could think of. It was, "Robert, come out on the
cliffs," or "Robert, get my garden gloves, please; they are in the
sitting-room, or somewhere else;" or "Robert, take me to town; I must
telegraph to Constance;" or "Bob dear, would you mind running over to
Miss Bliffson's, and telling her that I can't go to the Society this
afternoon; and on your way back, stop at the milliner's and see if my
hat is done." I usually attended to these commissions promptly; when you
have women about, your generous heart will rejoice to protect and
indulge their helplessness. They are the clinging vine, you are the
sturdy oak; and then, as I said, Clarice is an orphan. Hartman at first
showed an inclination to relieve me of the lighter part of these useful
avocations, such as taking her about over t