At the bottom of her heart was the desire to keep it, for the sake of its association: perhaps they would let her have it at Thexford Hall?
The journey, which no doubt most of the passengers considered a long one, was to Celia a delightful experience, for she had been immured in London long enough to enjoy the change.

Her heart beat fast and her breath came quickly, with suppressed excitement and a touch of anxiety, as the train drew up to the small station of Thexford.

On the platform stood a tall footman, and as she alighted he came up, touched his hat, and spoke her name.

The station-master and the porter were in attendance also, and all three received her as if she were a person of consequence.
The footman led the way to a landaulette car, touched his hat again as he closed the door on her, and the car glided off, carrying Celia still nearer to the unknown.
They ran through a beautiful, undulating country, dotted here and there with farms.

Then the way grew wilder.