Eustace himself felt not only a renewed interest in the land exploited by his magic lantern, but he began to view all the rest of the world in a new and rosy light, of which Miss Lansdale was the iridescent globe that diffused and subdued it to the mellow hue of romance.
It is impossible to believe that Eustace was ever at any pains to conceal the effects of this astral phenomenon from his family, for its members were very quickly excited.

If in that vale the woman-call could be heard by ears attuned to its haunting cadences, so also did the frightened mother-call echo its equally primitive note, accompanied by the less well-known sister-call of warning and distress.
The truth is that Eustace was becoming harder to manage with each recurring crisis.

For testimony in the present instance, I need only adduce that he wrote poetry, more or less, after meeting Miss Lansdale but a scant half-dozen times.

This came to me in confidence, however, and the obliquity of it spread no farther beyond the family lines.
Fluttering with alarm, the mother of Eustace approached me as one presumably familiar with the power of the Lansdales to work disaster in a peaceful and orderly family.

She sought to know if I could not prevent her boy from "making a fool of himself." It was never her way to bother with many words when she knew the right few.
With an air that signified her intention of letting me know the worst at once, Mrs.Eubanks drew from her bead reticule a sheet of paper scribbled over in the handwriting of her misguided offspring.