Chapter 1 - Page 2

Cenere; the view of
Lugano, the view of Como--Italy gathering thick around her
now--the arrival at her first resting-place, when, after long
driving through dark and dirty streets, she should at last
behold, amid the roar of trams and the glare of arc lamps,
the buttresses of the cathedral of Milan.

"Handkerchiefs and collars," screamed Harriet, "in my
inlaid box! I've lent you my inlaid box."

"Good old Harry!" She kissed every one again, and there
was a moment's silence. They all smiled steadily, excepting
Philip, who was choking in the fog, and old Mrs. Theobald,
who had begun to cry. Miss Abbott got into the carriage.
The guard himself shut the door, and told Lilia that she
would be all right. Then the train moved, and they all
moved with it a couple of steps, and waved their
handkerchiefs, and uttered cheerful little cries. At that
moment Mr. Kingcroft reappeared, carrying a footwarmer by
both ends, as if it was a tea-tray. He was sorry that he
was too late, and called out in a quivering voice,
"Good-bye, Mrs. Charles. May you enjoy yourself, and may
God bless you."

Lilia smiled and nodded, and then the absurd position of
the foot-warmer overcame her, and she began to laugh again.

"Oh, I am so sorry," she cried back, "but you do look so
funny. Oh, you all look so funny waving! Oh, pray!" And
laughing helplessly, she was carried out into the fog.

"High spirits to begin so long a journey," said Mrs.
Theobald, dabbing her eyes.

Mr. Kingcroft solemnly moved his head in token of
agreement. "I wish," said he, "that Mrs. Charles had gotten
the footwarmer. These London porters won't take heed to a
country chap."

"But you did your best," said Mrs. Herriton. "And I
think it simply noble of you to have brought Mrs. Theobald
all the way here on such a day as this." Then, rather
hastily, she shook hands, and left him to take Mrs. Theobald
all the way back.

Sawston, her own home, was within easy reach of London,
and they were not late for tea. Tea was in the dining-room,
with an egg for Irma, to keep up the child's spirits. The
house seemed strangely quiet after a fortnight's bustle, and
their conversation was spasmodic and subdued. They wondered
whether the travellers had got to Folkestone, whether it
would be at all rough, and if so what would happen to poor
Miss Abbott.

"And, Granny, when will the old ship get to Italy?"
asked Irma.

"'Grandmother,' dear; not 'Granny,'" said Mrs. Herriton,
giving her a kiss. "And we say 'a boat' or 'a steamer,' not
'a ship.' Ships have sails. And mother won't go all the way
by sea. You look at the map of Europe, and you'll see why.
Harriet, take her. Go with Aunt