ice; and Mrs. Copley with the nervous
restlessness of an invalid had set her mind on that goal, and would not
look at anything short of it. So they only passed through Wiesbaden and
went on.

But Dolly did want to see Switzerland. When the party came to the lake
of Constance, however, Mrs. Copley declined that proposal. Everybody
went to Switzerland, she said; and she did not care about it. The hope
would have fallen through, only that Lawrence, seeing Dolly's
disappointment, proposed taking a route through the Tyrol.
Comparatively few people went there, he assured Mrs. Copley; and
furthermore, that it was as good a way to Venice as any other. Mrs.
Copley gave consent; and to Dolly's immeasurable and inexpressible
satisfaction through the Tyrol they went. Nothing could spoil it, even
although Mrs. Copley every day openly regretted her concession and
would have taken it back if she could. The one of them was heartily
sorry, the other as deeply contented, when finally the plains of
Lombardy were reached.

It was evening and rainy weather when they came to the last stage of
their journey, and left the carriage of which Mrs. Copley had grown so
weary.

"What sort of a place is this?" she asked presently.

"Not much of a place," said Lawrence. "We will leave it as fast as
possible."

"Well, I should hope so. What are these things? and is that a canal?"

"We should call it a canal in our country," said Rupert; "but _there_
there'd be something at the end of it."

"But what are those black things?" Mrs. Copley repeated. "Do you want
me to get into one of them? I don't like it."

"They are gondolas, mother; Venetian gondolas. We must get into one, if
we want to go to Venice."

"Where is Venice?" said Mrs. Copley, looking over the unpromising
landscape.

"I don't know," said Dolly, laughing, "but Mr. St. Leger knows. We
shall be there in a little while mother, if you'll only get in."

"I don't like boats. And I never saw such boats as those in my life,"
said Mrs. Copley, holding back. "I would rather keep the carriage and
go on as we came; though all my bones are aching. I would rather go in
the carriage."

"But you cannot, mother; there are no carriages here. The way is by
water; and boats are the only vehicles used in Venice. We may as well
get accustomed to them."

"No carriages!"

"Why, surely you knew that before."

"I didn't. I knew there were things to go on the canals; I never knew
they were such