In fact, my dear Tom, these minor preparations of hers, to resemble a Rhine-land peasant, came to a little over seventeen pounds sterling, and suggested to me, more than once, the secret wish that our excursion had been through Ireland, where the habits of the natives could have been counterfeited at considerably less cost.
As "we were in for it," however, I bore myself as gallantly as might be, and pressed several trifling articles on her acceptance, but she tossed them over contemptuously, and merely said, "Oh, we shall find all these things so much better at Ems. They have such a bazaar there!" an announcement that gave me a cold shudder from head to foot. After taking our coffee, we resumed our journey, Ems being only distant some eleven or twelve miles, and, I must say, a drive of unequalled beauty.
Once more on the road, Mrs. G. became more charming and delightful than ever. The romantic glen, through which we journeyed, suggested much material for conversation, and she was legendary and lyrical, plaintive and merry by turns, now recounting some story of tragic history, now remembering some little incident of modern fashionable life, but all, no matter what the theme, touched with a grace and delicacy quite her own. In a little silence that followed one of these charming sallies, I noticed that she smiled as if at something passing in her own thoughts.
"Shall I tell you what I was thinking of?" said she, smiling.
"By all means," said I; "it is a pleasant thought, so pray let me share in it."
"I'm not quite so certain of that," said she. "It is rather puzzling than pleasant. It is simply this: 'Here we are now within a mile of Ems. It is one of the most gossiping places in Europe. How shall we announce ourselves in the Strangers' List?"
The difficulty had never occurred to me before, Tom; nor indeed, did I very clearly appreciate it even now. I thought that the name of Kenny Dodd would have sufficed for me, and I saw no reason why Mrs. Gore Hampton should not have been satisfied with her own appellation.
"I knew," said she, laughing, "that you never gave this a thought. Isn't that so?" I had to confess that she was quite correct, and she went on: "Adolphus "--this was the familiar for Mr. Gore Hampton--"is so well known that you could n't possibly pass for him; besides, he is very tall, and wears large moustaches,--the largest, I think, in the Blues."