Lady Montella, away from her religious principles, was as warm-hearted as it was possible for woman to be, and could not witness the separation unmoved. She knew that both husband and wife were suffering keenly, and that Patricia’s heart was bleeding for her child. But the sternness of her decision was not relaxed, and the carriage drove up relentlessly to take the young mother away. Not caring to see the final farewell, she joined Mrs. Engelmacher in the room above; and a few minutes later she knew by the sound of wheels that all was over, and Patricia had gone. The Princess was already at the little station when the unhappy pair arrived. She had never seen either of them look so ill, but was too wise to express her concern. Instead, she tried to make light of the whole matter, and drew their attention to the peculiar mixture of nationalities and personalities which composed the motley crowd on the platform. And there was the luggage to be seen to, and the red tape of Oriental officialism to be overcome, as well as the numerous necessities for the journey to the West. When all was accomplished, however, there still remained a little time before the train was due to start; and to the Montellas these few minutes were the hardest of all. Lionel stood with his arm around his wife, and gazed piteously at the Princess. “You will take care of my darling, won’t you, Olive?” he said, with a pathetic air of appeal. “In letting her go, I am parting with half of my life, and I know she feels it as much as I do, and perhaps more, because she is leaving the one little ray of sunshine she might have retained. But don’t let her fret, will you? Fretting doesn’t do a bit of good, and it will make her ill. Perhaps I shall be able to come over to Felsen-Schvoenig for a holiday next winter, or—or— Oh, we must look forward to meeting again soon, however it’s managed or whatever we do. So you’ll cheer her up, won’t you? Don’t let her get depressed. And I’ll write every mail, and—and—” But his flow of language gave way; he could not bring himself to say another word. “Oh, I’ll cheer her up,” the Princess returned confidently. “You may rely on me. You both look as mournful as if you were parting for ever; but that’s quite absurd. After I’ve seen my poor old Karl, I shall go to England and get my sister to work round that wooden-headed Moore. I fancy from what Mamie writes that the Expulsion Act is not working so well as he anticipated. Anyway, coming straight from the Holy Land, I shall be able to give them both a piece of my mind. Oh, there’s no knowing what may happen in another year. You must both keep up your spirits and hope for the best. It’s a long lane that has no turning, and I guess yours will turn pretty soon.”