It seemed quite unreasonable and absurd when we talked it over that Arthur and I should travel from Cologne to Dover merely to witness the nuptials of Dicky and Isabel. As Dicky pointed out, moreover, our moral support when it came to the interview with Mrs. Portheris would be much more valuable if it were united. There would be the registrar--one registrar would do--and there would be the opportunity of making it a square party. These were Dicky's arguments; Arthur's were more personal but equally convincing, and I must admit that I thought a good deal of the diplomatic anticipation of that magnificent wedding which was to illustrate and adorn the survival of the methods of the Doge of Venice in the family of a Senator of Chicago. And thus it was that we were all married sociably together in Dover the following morning, despatching a telegram immediately afterwards to the Senator at the Cologne hotel as follows: "We have eloped. (Signed) R. and I. Dod. A. and M. Page." Later on in the day we added details, to show that we bore no malice, and announced that we were prepared to await the arrival of the rest of the party for any length of time at Dover. We even went down to the station to meet them, where recriminations and congratulations were so mingled that it was impossible, for some time, to tell whether we were most blessed or banned. Even in the confusion of the moment, however, I noticed that Mr. Mafferton made Miss Callis's baggage his special care, and saw clearly in the cordiality of her sentiments toward me, and the firmness of her manner in ordering him about, that the future peer had reached his last alternative. I rejoice to add that the day also showed that even Count Filgiatti had fallen, in the general ordering of fates, upon happiness with honour. I noticed that Emmeline vigorously protected him from the Customs officer who wished to confiscate his cigarettes, and I mentioned her air of proprietorship to her father. "Why, yes," said Mr. Malt, "he offered himself as a count you see, and Emmeline seemed to think she'd like to have one, so I closed with him. There isn't anything likely to come of it for three or four years, but he's willing to wait, and she's got to grow." I expressed my felicitations, and Mr. Malt added somewhat regretfully that it would have been better if he'd had more in his clothes, but that was what you had to expect with counts; as a rule they didn't seem to have what you might call any money use for pockets. In the meantime they were taking him home to educate him in the duties of American citizenship. Emmeline put it to me briefly, "I'm not any Daisy Miller," she said, "and I prefer to live out of Rome."