come so far
entangled with this stranger's, that she found refuge with him from her
own kindred. They could do nothing to help her in this; the trouble was
solely hers and his, and they two must get out of it one way or other
themselves; the case scarcely admitted even of sympathy, and if it had
not been hers, it would have been one to amuse her rather than appeal to
her compassion. Even as it was, she sometimes caught herself smiling at
the predicament of a young girl who had passed a month in every
appearance of love-making, and who, being asked her heart, was holding
her lover in suspense whilst she searched it, and meantime was
picnicking with him upon the terms of casual flirtation. Of all the
heroines in her books, she knew none in such a strait as this.

But her perplexities did not impair the appetite which she brought to
the sylvan feast. In her whole simple life she had never tasted
champagne before, and she said innocently, as she put the frisking fluid
from her lips after the first taste, "Why, I thought you had to _learn_
to like champagne."

"No," remarked the colonel, "it's like reading and writing: it comes by
nature. I suppose that even one of the lower animals would like
champagne. The refined instinct of young ladies makes them recognize its
merits instantly. Some of the Confederate cellars," added the colonel,
thoughtfully, "had very good champagne in them. Green seal was the
favorite of our erring brethren. It wasn't one of their errors. I prefer
it myself to our own native cider, whether made of apples or grapes.
Yes, it's better even than the water from the old chain-pump in the back
yard at Eriecreek, though it hasn't so fine a flavor of lubricating oil
in it."

The faint chill that touched Mr. Arbuton at the mention of Eriecreek and
its petrolic associations was transient. He was very light of heart,
since the advance that Kitty seemed to have made him; and in his
temporary abandon he talked well, and promoted the pleasure of the time
without critical reserves. When the colonel, with the reluctance of our
soldiers to speak of their warlike experiences before civilians, had
suffered himself to tell a story that his wife begged of him about his
last battle, Mr. Arbuton listened with a deference that flattered poor
Mrs. Ellison, and made her marvel at Kitty's doubt concerning him; and
then he spoke entertainingly of some travel experiences of his own,
which he politely excused as quite unworthy