With heavy steps she mounted to her bedroom. In the adjoining chamber Simone was busy with the travelling boxes. The door between the two rooms was ajar, and Simone, seeing her young mistress enter, ran forward and stood mutely waiting. Marion went to the open window and leaned her head wearily on the casement. The song of a nightingale in the lanes beyond Kensington village came to her ears.
'Listen,' said Marion, as Simone stole up to her side, 'listen to yonder bird. How can he sing so? There is no sorrow in the world for him!'
'Nay, Mademoiselle, 'tis sorrow tunes his song, you forget. But, Mademoiselle——'
'Yes?'
'Pardon, but I should so like to know——'
''Tis well. Captain Beckenham cannot come, but he is lending his servant, and I have also promised to take Reuben.'
Marion roused herself and went across to her writing table, glancing into the adjoining room as she passed the door.
'All packed? Good. You have done bravely, Simone. Now I must write to my aunt and uncle, and Colonel Sampson.'
Simone still lingered. 'Mademoiselle——'
'What is it?'