She was very weary with her long journey and more depressed than she had ever been in her life before.
The drive seemed the longest and most unpleasant she had ever undertaken; she began to wish she had been content to sail for Europe without trying to find Virginia.

But at last the vehicle stopped, the driver reached down from his seat and opened the door.
His passenger put out her head, glanced this way and that, scanned the house before her, and angrily demanded, "What are you stopping here for ?" "Bekase ye tould me to, mum; it's the place ye said ye wanted to come till." Mrs.Conly looked at the number over the door, saw that it was the one she had given him, then in a voice she vainly tried to make coldly indifferent, inquired of some children who had gathered on the sidewalk to gaze in open-mouthed curiosity at her and the hack, if this were ---- street.
The answer confirmed the driver's assertion, and she hastily alighted.
The house was a large tenement swarming with inhabitants, as was evidenced by the number of heads in nearly every front window, drawn thither by the unusual event of the stopping of a hack before the door of entrance.

It stood wide open, giving a view of an unfurnished hall and stairway, both of which were in a very untidy condition.
"Does Mr.Henry Neuville live here ?" Mrs.Conly asked, addressing the group of staring children.
"Dunno," said one.

"Guess not," said another.
"Mebbe thems the grand folks as moved intill the second story front t'other week," observed a third.

"I'll show ye the way, lady," and he rushed past her into the house and ran nimbly up the dirty stairs.
Mrs.Conly lifted her skirts and followed, her heart sinking like lead in her bosom.