Whereupon the Honourable Mrs. Ramsay, having said her say, and “rubbed it in” remorselessly, quietly effected her departure. CHAPTER XXXIII SITUATION THE FOURTH It was evident that some kind of armistice or _pourparlers_ had been arranged between Mrs. Ramsay and her misguided young companion, for, when the General, the Rector, and Mrs. Morven returned to England, home, and duty, these ladies still remained abroad, and went together to a small and picturesque village in the very heart of the Alpes-Maritimes. Aurea longed for some such quiet retreat, where she could hide herself, and recover from a blow which had still left its quivering traces. Love and happiness were possibly within her reach, and she had, in all ignorance, cast them aside; her widowed chaperone understood and sympathised, and, though it was she who had inflicted the wound, she was absolved. In the inn of a little mountain village the friends spent three weeks far from the giddy crowds, aloof from luxury, and the world. Here were thick cups, thin candles, good coffee, and sour bread. What long walks and talks they enjoyed, and how fully the girl opened her innocent heart to the experienced, world-worn matron! Letters were rare, and newspapers ignored; in Aurea’s mental condition, what were to her the fate of plays, of Cabinets, yea, of nations? She was never likely to hear tidings of _him_ through the Press; but here Aurea was wrong. The unexpected--as is so frequently the case--declared itself. One afternoon the two ladies walked to a town at some distance, and as they waited for a well-deserved _café complét_, Mrs. Ramsay idly glanced over an old and fly-blown copy of the continental _Daily Mail_, and the following paragraph caught her eye and seemed to stab her in the face:-- “The neighbourhood of Villo, near Turin, has been shocked by a terrible accident, which took place yesterday. Mr. H. Masham, the well-known racing motorist, returning victorious from a competition, in order to avoid a wagon, dashed into a hillside at full speed. The motor turned over completely; he and the chauffeur were pinned underneath. Mr. Masham was dead when extricated, and there are no hopes of the recovery of his companion.” Mrs. Ramsay made a desperate attempt to hide the paper, but it was impossible to hide her own white face, and Aurea insisted on reading the paragraph. When she had grasped its contents, she turned to her friend for a moment with great, agonised, unseeing eyes, and for the first time in her life of twenty-one years Aurea Morven fainted. That same hour Mrs. Ramsay despatched a reply-paid telegram to the Italian Hospital, asking for immediate tidings of Mr. Owen, and the answer received was-- “Owen left yesterday--address unknown.” Well, at any rate, he was still in the land of the living, and from this important fact Miss Morven must extract such comfort as she deserved.