Never during the prosperous years that Mrs. Barnaby had been the mistress of her comfortable house at Silverton, (excepting, perhaps, for the delightful interval while she was treated throughout the town as a bride,) did she feel half so grand or so happy a personage as now that she had no house at all. There was an elegance and freedom, which she never felt conscious of before, in thus setting off upon her travels with what she believed to be an ample purse, of which she was the uncontrolled mistress, a beautiful niece to chaperone, and a lady's-maid to wait upon her; and had Agnes, who sat opposite to her, been less earnestly occupied in recalling all the circumstances of her last strange interview with her aunt Compton, she must have observed and been greatly puzzled by the series of (perhaps) involuntary grimaces which accompanied Mrs. Barnaby's mental review of her own situation.
"A rich and handsome widow!... Could fate have possibly placed her in any situation she should have liked so well?" This was the question she silently asked herself, and cordially did her heart answer "No."
As these thoughts worked in her mind her dark, well-marked eyebrows raised themselves, her eyes flashed, and her lips curled into a triumphant smile.
The person who occupied the transverse corner to herself was a handsome young man, who had joined the Silverton coach, from the mansion of a gentleman in the neighbourhood, to which, however, he was himself quite a stranger; and having in vain tried to get sight of the features concealed by the long crape veil beside him, he took to watching those no way concealed by the short crape veil opposite.
"Mother and daughter, of course," thought he. "A young specimen, without rouge or moustache, would not be amiss."
Mrs. Barnaby perceived he was looking at her, and settled her features into dignified but not austere harmony.
"It is very pleasant travelling this morning, ma'am," said the young man.
"As pleasant as a stage-coach can be, I imagine; ... but I am so little accustomed to the sort of thing that I am not a very good judge. Do you know, sir, where the coach stops for dinner?"
"I cannot say I do; I never travelled this road before."