Suddenly the train stopped—stopped amidst the noise and confusion of a large terminus—Mrs. Davenant woke, a porter came to the door, received instructions as to the luggage and handed them out.
Notwithstanding her resolution, Una felt herself turning pale.
From Warden Forest to a London railway station.
“Keep close to me, dear,” said Mrs. Davenant, who seemed only nervous and helpless in her son’s presence. “Come, there is a cab.”
In silence Una followed. Men—and women, too,—turned to look at the tall, graceful figure in its plain white dress, and stared at the lovely face, with its half-frightened, half-curious, downcast eyes, and Una felt the eyes fixed on her.
“Why—why do they look at me so?” she asked, when they had entered the cab.
Mrs. Davenant regarded her with a smile, and evaded the frank, open eyes. Was it possible that the girl was ignorant of her marvelous beauty?
“People in London always stare, my dear Una,” she replied, “and they see that you are strange.”
“It is my dress,” said Una, who had been looking out of the window at some of the fashionably-attired ladies. “It is different to theirs. See—look at that lady! Why does she wear so long a dress? she has to hold it up with one hand.”
“It is your dress, no doubt, my dear,” she said. “We must alter it when we get home.”