Henrietta and Daisy now supposed that they were going to a like establishment. They little guessed what lay before them. They were crossing over to cold England, a country their mother hated, and which they could not be expected to love. They expected great sympathy when they were seasick, but they only received the ordinary care of the much-tried stewardess.
At last they arrived at Fishguard, and the Rector took them at once third-class to London. They would have given the world to stay in London for even one night, but when they suggested this to the Rector, he said in his quiet voice: "We continue our journey to Lutterworth."
It was late in the evening when they reached Lutterworth. A cab had been ordered and was waiting for them, and they drove straight to Mrs. Faithful's house.
They passed the noble old church and the beautiful grammar school, but still they drove on and on, until finally they turned into a country lane and stopped before a neatly kept wooden gate. Here the driver got down, opened the gate, and fastened it back carefully; then the Rector and the two girls found themselves driving up the long and winding avenue.
Although it was now the middle of summer, neither Henrietta nor Daisy could see much of where they were coming to. The house, the Rector told them, was called Felicity. It was decidedly old-fashioned, and was built of stone. It had many little windows with small panes of glass. There was a great bell at the front door. The Rector pulled the bell.
"This is my friend's house, and your future home," he said, turning gravely to his step-daughters. "Mrs. Faithful is not only my friend but my cousin. Ah, Jane, you have opened the door for me yourself! I have brought the girls. Have you any one who can look after them and give them supper. I have a great deal to talk over with you, my dear Jane."
"What a horrid old maid of a creature!" muttered Daisy.
Mrs. Faithful pursed up her mouth, but did not utter a syllable. She fixed her large and really kind eyes, however, in a decidedly uncomfortable manner on the young people.
"I will ring for Dawson," she said. "She will attend to the girls and give them what is necessary. I have had a cosy supper prepared for you, Patrick. You don't look too strong, dear kinsman. Come this way, pray, to the Hall of Refreshment. Ah, here is Dawson! Dawson, give the young ladies their supper, and then take them to the Chamber of Penitence and see them into bed. I observe they have brought their luggage. Dawson, Smith will help you to take the trunks up to the Chamber of Penitence. Good-night, girls, I will see you to-morrow. Now, Patrick, my man, what is the matter with you?"
It was with a sinking heart that Patrick O'Brien followed his kinswoman into the Hall of Refreshment. He had too terrible a story to tell. He was also wildly anxious to get back to Maureen. The symptoms of ill-health which had so troubled him were beginning to return under this new strain. Jane Faithful, however, was a woman of few words and mighty deeds. She had not started Felicity for nothing. She had not saved many a rebellious girl for nothing; but her present concern was not for the Misses Mostyn, but for the Rector's sad and sorely troubled face.