The Portable Henry James by Henry James

he was quite prepared to find that, as a matter of course, she meant to accompany her daughter.
    “We’ve been thinking ever so much about going,” she pursued; “but it seems as if we couldn’t. Of course Daisy—she wants to go round. But there’s a lady here—I don’t know her name—she says she shouldn’t think we’d want to go to see castles here ; she should think we’d want to wait till we got to Italy. It seems as if there would be so many there,” continued Mrs. Miller, with an air of increasing confidence. “Of course, we only want to see the principal ones. We visited several in England,” she presently added.
    “Ah, yes! in England there are beautiful castles,” said Winterbourne. “But Chillon, here, is very well worth seeing.”
    “Well, if Daisy feels up to it—,” said Mrs. Miller, in a tone impregnated with a sense of the magnitude of the enterprise. “It seems as if there was nothing she wouldn’t undertake.”
    “Oh, I think she’ll enjoy it!” Winterbourne declared. And he desired more and more to make it a certainty that he was to have the privilege of a tête-à-tête with the young lady, who was still strolling along in front of them, softly vocalising. “You are not disposed, madam,” he inquired, “to undertake it yourself?”
    Daisy’s mother looked at him, an instant, askance, and then walked forward in silence. Then—“I guess she had better go alone,” she said, simply.
    Winterbourne observed to himself that this was a very different type of maternity from that of the vigilant matrons who massed themselves in the forefront of social intercourse in the dark old city at the other end of the lake. But his meditations were interrupted by hearing his name very distinctly pronounced by Mrs. Miller’s unprotected daughter.
    “Mr. Winterbourne!” murmured Daisy.
    “Mademoiselle!” said the young man.
    “Don’t you want to take me out in a boat?”
    “At present?” he asked.
    “Of course!” said Daisy.
    “Well, Annie Miller!” exclaimed her mother.
    “I beg you, madam, to let her go,” said Winterbourne, ardently; for he had never yet enjoyed the sensation of guiding through the summer starlight a skiff freighted with a fresh and beautiful young girl.
    “I shouldn’t think she’d want to,” said her mother. “I should think she’d rather go indoors.”
    “I’m sure Mr. Winterbourne wants to take me,” Daisy declared. “He’s so awfully devoted!”
    “I will row you over to Chillon, in the starlight.”
    “I don’t believe it!” said Daisy.
    “Well!” ejaculated the elder lady again.
    “You haven’t spoken to me for half-an-hour,” her daughter went on.
    “I have been having some very pleasant conversation with your mother,” said Winterbourne.
    “Well; I want you to take me out in a boat!” Daisy repeated. They had all stopped, and she had turned round and was looking at Winterbourne. Her face wore a charming smile, her pretty eyes were gleaming, she was swinging her great fan about. No; it’s impossible to be prettier than that, thought Winterbourne.
    “There are half-a-dozen boats moored at that landing-place,” he said, pointing to certain steps which descended from the garden to the lake. “If you will do me the honour to accept my arm, we will go and select one of them.”
    Daisy stood there smiling; she threw back her head and gave a little light laugh. “I like a gentleman to be formal!” she declared.
    “I assure you it’s a formal offer.”
    “I was bound I would make you say something,” Daisy went on.
    “You see it’s not very difficult,” said Winterbourne. “But I am afraid you are chaffing me.”
    “I think not, sir,” remarked Mrs. Miller, very gently.
    “Do, then, let me give you a row,” he said to the young girl.
    “It’s quite lovely, the way you say that!” cried Daisy.
    “It will be still more lovely to do it.”
    “Yes, it would be lovely!” said Daisy. But she made no movement to accompany