"They were brought up to it," said Lawrence. "That's just what they like."
"I expect they'll wake up some day," said Rupert. Which observation Lawrence did not think worthy of answer; as it was ahead of the time and of him equally.
They made no unnecessary delay now in going on to Venice. I think Lawrence had had a secret design to see some one of the great gaming watering-places; and they had come back to the banks of the Rhine on purpose. But, however, both Dolly and her mother were in such haste that he could not induce them by any motive of curiosity or interest to stop. Dolly indeed had a great horror of those places, and did not want, she said, to see how beautiful they were. She hoped for her father's coming to them in Venice; 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 forlorn-looking things; but I supposed there were carriages to go in the streets. Are there no carts either? How is the baggage going?"
"There are no streets, mother. The ways are all water ways, and the carriages are gondolas; and it is just as lovely as it can be. Come, let us try it."
"What are the houses built on?"
"Mother, suppose you get in, and we'll talk as we go along. We had better get out of the rain; don't you think so? It is falling quite fast."
"I had rather be in the rain than in the sea. Dolly, if it isn't too far, I'll walk."
"It is too far, dear mother. You could not do that. It is a long way yet."
Lawrence stood by, biting his lips between impatience and a sense of the ridiculous; and withal admiring the tender, delicate patience of the girl who gently coaxed and reasoned and persuaded, and finally moved Mrs. Copley to suffer herself to be put in the gondola, on the forward deck of which Rupert had been helping the gondoliers to stow some of the baggage. Dolly immediately took her place beside her mother; the two young men followed, and the gondola pushed off. Mrs.
Copley found herself comfortable among the cushions, felt that the motion of the gondola was smooth, assured herself that it would not turn over; finally felt at leisure to make observations again.
"We can't see anything here," she remarked, peering out first on one side, then on the other.
"There is nothing to see," said Lawrence, "but the banks of the canal."
"Very ugly banks, too. Are we going all the way by water now?"
"All the way, to our hotel door."
"Do the boatmen know where to go?"
"Yes. Have no fear."
"Why don't they have streets in Venice?"
"Mother, don't you remember, the city is built on sand banks, and the sea flows between? The only streets possible are like this. Could anything be better? This motion will not fatigue you; and are not your cushions comfortable?"
"The _sea_, Dolly?" cried Mrs. Copley, catching the word. "You never told me that. If the sea comes in, it must be rough sometimes."
"No, mother; it is a shallow level for miles and miles, covered at high tide by a few feet of water, and at low tide bare. Venice is built on the sand banks of islands which rise above this level."
"What ever made people choose such a ridiculous place to build a city, when there was good ground enough?"
"The good ground was not safe from enemies, mother, dear. The people fled to these sand islands for safety."
"Enemies! What enemies?"
So the history had to be further gone into; in the midst of which Mrs.
Copley burst out again.
"I'm so tired of this canal!--just mud banks and nothing else. How much longer is it to last?"
"We shall come to something else by and by. Have patience," said Lawrence.
But the patience of three of them was tried, before they fairly emerged from the canal, and across a broader water saw the lines of building and the domes of Venice before them.
"You'll soon be out of the gondola now, mother, dear," said Dolly delightedly. For the rain clouds had lifted a little, and the wide spread of the lagoon became visible, as well as the dim line of the city; and Dolly's heart grew big. Mrs. Copley's was otherwise.
"I'll never get into one again," she said, referring to the gondolas.
"I don't like it. I don't feel as if I was anywhere. There's another,--there's two more. Are they all painted black?"
"It is the fashion of Venetian gondolas."
"Well! there is nothing like seeing for yourself. I always had an idea gondolas were something romantic and pretty. Is the water deep here?"
"No, very shallow," Lawrence assured her.
"It looks just as if it was deep. I wouldn't have come to Venice if I had known what a forlorn place it is."