Mr. Ashmead had hired a saloon carriage for them, with couches and conveniences. They entered it; and Mademoiselle Klosking said to Miss Gale, “It is necessary that I should sleep.” “You shall,” said Miss Gale. While she was arranging the pillows and things, La Klosking said to Vizard, “We artists learn to sleep when we have work to do. Without it I should not be strong enough this day.” She said this in a half-apologetic tone, as one anxious not to give him any shadow of offense. She was asleep in five minutes; and Miss Gale sat watching her at first, but presently joined Vizard at the other end, and they whispered together. Said she, “What becomes of the theory that women have no strength of will? There is Mademoiselle _Je le veux_ in person. When she wants to sleep, she sleeps; and look at you and me--do you know where we are going?” “No.” “No more do I. The motive power is that personification of divine repose there. How beautiful she is with her sweet lips parted, and her white teeth peeping, and her upper and lower lashes wedded, and how graceful!” “She is a goddess,” said Vizard. “I wish I had never seen her. Mark my words, she will give me the sorest heart of all.” “I hope not,” said Rhoda, very seriously. Ina slept sweetly for nearly two hours, and all that time her friends could only guess where they were going. At last the train stopped, for the sixth time, and Ashmead opened the door. This worthy, who was entirely in command of the expedition, collected the luggage, including Vizard's bag, and deposited it at the station. He then introduced the party to a pair-horse fly, and mounted the box. When they stopped at Bagley, Vizard suspected where they were going. When he saw the direction the carriage took, he knew it, and turned very grave indeed. He even regretted that he had put himself so blindly under the control of a woman. He cast searching glances at Mademoiselle Klosking to try and discover what on earth she was going to do. But her face was as impenetrable as marble. Still, she never looked less likely to do anything rash or in bad taste. Quietness was the main characteristic of her face, when not rippled over by a ravishing sweetness; but he had never seen her look so great, and lofty, and resolute as she looked now; a little stern, too, as one who had a great duty to do, and was inflexible as iron. When truly feminine features stiffen into marble like this, beauty is indeed imperial, and worthy of epic song; it rises beyond the wing of prose. My reader is too intelligent not to divine that she was steeling herself to a terrible interview with Zoe Vizard--terrible mainly on account of the anguish she knew she must inflict. But we can rarely carry out our plans exactly as we trace them--unexpected circumstances derange them or expand them; and I will so far anticipate as to say that in this case a most unexpected turn of events took La Klosking by surprise.