Celia had never felt so English as at that moment. She forced back the tears, which felt as if they would work their way out in spite of her, and said, in a very low voice, "I am ready, Madam."
"Let us lose no time, then," said Lady Ingram, rising, and allowing her hoop to spread itself out to its full width. "I wish you a very good morning, Madam."
She swept slowly and statelily across the room, leaving Celia to exchange passionate kisses with all the members of the family, and then, almost blinded by the tears which would come at last, to make her way to the coach which was standing at the door.
"There, there, my dear!" said Lady Ingram, a little querulously, when the coach had been travelling about five minutes; "that is quite enough. You will make your eyes red. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, so unbecoming as the red eyes. These people are not your family—not at all so good. I do not see anything to cry about."
"She does not mean to be unkind," thought Celia to herself. "She is only heartless."
True—but what an only!
Lady Ingram, having done her duty to her step-daughter, leaned back in the coach and closed her eyes. She opened them again for a moment, and said, "We arrive on Tuesday in London, I start for Paris not until the next Tuesday." Then the dark languishing eyes shut again, rather to Celia's relief. The ponderous vehicle worked its way slowly along the muddy roads. Celia sat by her step-mother, and opposite was Lady Ingram's maid, a dark-browed Frenchwoman; both were remarkably silent. Lady Ingram went to sleep, and the maid sat upright, stony, and passive, frequently scanning the young stranger with her black eyes, but never uttering a word. That evening the coach clattered into Chard, where they slept. The Friday saw them at Shaftesbury, the Saturday night at Andover, where they put up for the Sunday. On the Monday evening they reached Bagshot, Lady Ingram declaring that she must have the morning to pass Bagshot Heath, and adding a few anecdotes of her past troubles with highwaymen which terrified Celia. Two men travelling on horseback, who were staying at the inn, joined their forces to the carriage, and the heath was passed without any attack from the highwaymen. About ten o'clock, when they were a little past the heath, Lady Ingram desired Celia to keep her eyes open. "We are just entering Windsor," she said; "and though I have not time to stop and let you see the Castle, yet you may perhaps get a glimpse of it as we pass." They passed the Castle, and drove down the park. Suddenly the coach came to a full stop.
"The stupid man!" exclaimed Lady Ingram. "What does he?"
The question was very soon answered, for William, the footman, sprang from his perch, and presented himself at the carriage-window. Lady Ingram let down the glass.
"What is the matter?" she asked, testily.