'Mademoiselle cannot travel without an escort.'
'There is Colonel Sampson.'
'True. Le bon Colonel. I had not thought of him.'
'I will write him at once,' said Marion. 'Will you bring me paper and pen?'
Within a few minutes a manservant was dispatched to Colonel Sampson's house in Lincoln's Inn Fields, bearing a short note from Marion to the effect that she wished to see him on a subject of great urgency. Marion bade the man take the fastest horse and ride hard; then sent word to the housekeeper that Colonel Sampson would in all probability be a guest at supper, and asked that a bottle of the Colonel's favourite Burgundy should not be overlooked.
This done, Marion mounted to her own room, and threw herself feverishly into preparations for the journey. She found great relief in merely busying her hands among her clothes. And though she did and undid, set her dresses here and set them there, declared this should go in that trunk, and then in another, Simone made no objection to her contrary ways. Quietly the waiting woman followed her orders, knowing that she could very well pack Mademoiselle's clothes properly while the young lady was asleep.
Presently Simone insisted that it was high time for Mademoiselle to dress for supper. The toilet took some time, and Simone talked with animation of the days of travel that lay ahead, knowing that a person's mind cannot dwell at the same time on the end and on the means. Marion told her what she remembered of the course of the ten days' journey from Garth to London, adding that with swifter going they could surely vie with the post chaise and reach home in seven.
Just as Marion's gown was fastened, a servant tapped at the door. The messenger was returned, saying that Colonel Sampson's man had informed him of his master's having ridden away on a sudden visit to his country house in Hertfordshire, and was not to be expected home till the following evening, if then: there was no knowing when he would return. But as soon as he entered the house, the letter should be handed to him.
The servant withdrew, and having noted the disarray of the room went downstairs to report thereon, saying that all ladies were alike, and here Mistress Marion was driving yonder Simone to death, on a round of doing and undoing among her dresses; and 'twas a good thing Mrs. Martin was away with my lady, or the work might have fallen on her.
Meanwhile Marion stood looking at Simone, her mouth stubborn.