The invitation written and accepted, they had now only to wait till the time came, to wish heartily for a fine day, and to look forward to the event with an excitement quite unknown to those who have many pleasures. It seemed slow in coming, but it came. The weather was bright and cloudless, and nothing was wanting to their satisfaction. It is true Nanna and Margaretta still looked scornfully superior when the party was mentioned, but that was not enough to spoil it, and both Susan and Sophia Jane set forth on their expedition with the lightest possible hearts, prepared for enjoyment.
Aunt Hannah was to take them to meet Monsieur and Mademoiselle at the place where the omnibus started for Pegwell Bay, and when they got within a short distance they could see that their punctual guests were already there waiting. They were both in the most cheerful spirits, and had attired themselves in a manner suitable to “le voyage.” Monsieur, in particular, had cast aside his ordinary garments, and had now quite a marine and holiday air. He wore a white waistcoat and trousers rather shrunk, a sailor hat, and a short blue coat; slung round him by a bright new leather strap he carried a telescope in a neat case, with which to survey distant shipping, and in his hand a cane with a tassel. Mademoiselle on her side had not forgotten to do honour to the occasion by a freshly-trimmed bonnet, and a small bouquet of spring flowers in the front of her black dress.
After some delay—partly caused by Monsieur, who had many polite speeches to make, and stepped about in front of Aunt Hannah with repeated bows, and partly by Mademoiselle’s extreme reluctance to getting on to the top of the omnibus—the start was really made. Susan drew a deep breath of delight, and thought it was the most beautiful drive she had ever had.
Their way, after they had rattled through the streets of the town, lay for some distance along a sandy road with woods on each side of it. The sea was hidden, but there were the fresh green buds on the trees to look at, and the blue sky overhead flecked with little white clouds, and the larks to listen to singing high up in the air over distant cornfields. By and by the road came out on the cliff again, and soon made a sudden dip so that the sea was now quite close to them, and on the other side another sea of freshly-springing wheat stretched away inland for miles. It was such a steep and stony hill that Mademoiselle began to be seized with panics of terror in case the horses should slip, so that she often clung tightly to Adolphe and cried, “Ciel!” This enlivened the journey a good deal, and she joined in laughing at herself with much good-nature, though it was really with a sigh of relief that she exclaimed, “Nous voici!” when the omnibus stopped at the door of the inn. It stood about half-way down the road leading to the shore, high enough to have a broad view over the sea, which was now at low tide. In the distance you could see the shrimpers slowly pushing their nets before them, and nearer on the rocks below the bent forms of people gathering cockles; the grey gulls wheeled about overhead and poised themselves on their broad wings, or rode triumphantly on the gentle rippling of the water, and far far away on the edge of everything the shadowy sails of ships glided slowly past like ghosts. To these last Monsieur turned his attention, and having unstrapped his telescope took up a commanding position on a rising mound in the garden, and proceeded to sweep the horizon. Not with much success at first, but after it had been pointed out to him that he was looking at the wrong end he got on better, and Mademoiselle and the children leaving him thus employed strolled down to the shore until the tea should be ready. When there it was astonishing and delightful to discover Mademoiselle’s extreme ignorance of marine objects. She had lived nearly all her life in Paris, she told them, and since she had been at Ramsgate had been too busy to go further than the town. It was most interesting, therefore, to search for curiosities, explain their habits to her and tell her their names, and she never failed to express the utmost wonder and admiration as each fresh one appeared. Even when Susan suddenly placed a star-fish on her lap as she sat gazing over the sea, and requested her to feel how flabby it was, she came bravely through the trial, though she inwardly regarded it with disgust and fear. Then with garments held tightly round her, and feverishly grasping her parasol, she was persuaded to venture on a little journey over the slippery rocks. Sophia Jane and Susan, on either hand, advised the safest places to tread on, watched each footstep carefully, and made encouraging remarks as though to a child. Finally, after many perils and narrow escapes, she was conducted with much applause safely back to the dry land, and up again to the inn garden.
Here they found Monsieur in a state of placid enjoyment expecting their return, and in a convenient arbour facing the sea the meal was ready prepared. Sophia Jane poured out the tea because it was her birthday, but not without difficulty, for the tea-pot was enormous, and her hands so small and weak, that she had to stand up and use her utmost strength. No one offered to help, however, for they well knew that it would have been considered an insult. Unlike some entertainments much looked forward to, Sophia Jane’s party was a complete success. There were no disappointments at Pegwell Bay. Everything was good, everyone was merry, the shrimps more than came up to everyone’s expectation.
The meal was nearly finished, and it was drawing near the time for the omnibus to start back to Ramsgate, when Mademoiselle suddenly drew a letter from her pocket.
“Stupid animal that I am!” she exclaimed, “I have till this moment forgotten to give you this, Adolphe. It arrived after you left this morning. My head is turned, it appears, by going to fêtes.”
She smiled at the little girls as she handed the letter to her brother, and he put on his spectacles and opened it. Susan watched him. It was a thin foreign envelope, and the letter inside it was short, but it seemed to puzzle him a great deal. He held it out at arm’s length, frowned at it, and gave it an impatient tap with one finger. Then he took off his glasses, rubbed them, put them on, and read it again, after which he rose suddenly, and leaning across the table, stretched the letter out to his sister, and said in a strange excited voice:
“Read Delphine—read, my sister.”
Delphine was not long in doing so, one swift glance was enough, and next, to the children’s surprise, she rushed from her place to Adolphe’s side, threw her arms round his neck, kissed him a great many times, and burst into a torrent of tears. What could be the matter? What dreadful misfortune could have happened? Susan and Sophia Jane looked at each other in alarm. A moment before all had been happiness and gaiety, and now both Monsieur and his sister appeared to have lost all control over themselves, and were giving way to the most heartfelt distress. Some terrible news must have been contained in that letter. They stood at a little distance from the table, clasping each other’s hands, uttering broken French sentences, and lifting their eyes to the sky, while tears rolled unrestrained down their faces. “If any one else saw them,” said Susan to herself, “they would think they were mad,” and she looked with some anxiety towards the inn door. There was no one in sight fortunately, and soon, a little subdued but still in a strange excited state, the brother and sister advanced hand in hand to the table. The odd part of it was that Mademoiselle was now actually laughing though her eyes were wet with tears.