CHAPTER IX.
The day of the Grand Hegira came.
"I remember," said Miss Leaf, as they rumbled for the last time through the empty morning streets of poor old Stowbury: "I remember my grandmother telling me that when my grandfather was courting her, and she out of coquetry refused him, he set off on horseback to London, and she was so wretched to think of all the dangers he ran on the journey, and in London itself, that she never rested till she got him back, and then immediately married him." "No such catastrophe is likely to happen to any of us, except, perhaps, to Elizabeth," said Miss Hilary, trying to get up, a little feeble mirth, any thing to pass away the time and lessen the pain of parting, which was almost too much for Johanna.

"What do you say?
Do you mean to get married in London, Elizabeth ?" But Elizabeth could make no answer, even to kind Miss Hilary.

They had not imagined she felt the leaving her native place so much.

She had watched intently the last glimpse of Stowbury church tower, and now sat with reddened eyes, staring blankly out of the carriage window, "Silent as a stone." Once or twice a large slow tear gathered on each of her eyes, but it was shaken off angrily from the high check bones, and never settled into absolute crying.

They thought it best to take no notice of her.
Only, when reaching the new small station, where the "resonant steam eagles" were, for the first time, beheld by the innocent Stowbury ladies, there arose a discussion as to the manner of traveling.