The evening and the next morning were passed in writing a final and kindly note of dismissal to Sir William De Stancy, in making arrangements for the journey, and in commissioning Havill to take advantage of their absence by emptying certain rooms of their furniture, and repairing their dilapidations--a work which, with that in hand, would complete the section for which he had been engaged. Mr. Wardlaw had left the castle; so also had Charlotte, by her own wish, her residence there having been found too oppressive to herself to be continued for the present. Accompanied by Mrs. Goodman, Milly, and Clementine, the elderly French maid, who still remained with them, Paula drove into Markton in the twilight and took the train to Budmouth. When they got there they found that an unpleasant breeze was blowing out at sea, though inland it had been calm enough. Mrs. Goodman proposed to stay at Budmouth till the next day, in hope that there might be smooth water; but an English seaport inn being a thing that Paula disliked more than a rough passage, she would not listen to this counsel. Other impatient reasons, too, might have weighed with her. When night came their looming miseries began. Paula found that in addition to her own troubles she had those of three other people to support; but she did not audibly complain. ‘Paula, Paula,’ said Mrs. Goodman from beneath her load of wretchedness, ‘why did we think of undergoing this?’ A slight gleam of humour crossed Paula’s not particularly blooming face, as she answered, ‘Ah, why indeed?’ ‘What is the real reason, my dear? For God’s sake tell me!’ ‘It begins with S.’ ‘Well, I would do anything for that young man short of personal martyrdom; but really when it comes to that--’ ‘Don’t criticize me, auntie, and I won’t criticize you.’ ‘Well, I am open to criticism just now, I am sure,’ said her aunt, with a green smile; and speech was again discontinued.