The image of Ronald, which had never been very deeply imprinted, had faded out of Effie’s imagination. It had never reached any farther than her imagination. And in her little excitement and the pleasurable quickening of her pulsations, as she set out upon this drive with her stepmother, there was that vague sense that there was no telling what might come of it which gives zest to the proceedings of youth. It was the nearest approach to setting out upon a career of adventure which had ever fallen to Effie’s share. She was going to discover a world. She was a new little Columbus, setting her sail towards the unknown. Mrs. Ogilvie ran on all the way with a sort of monologue, every sentence of which began with, “I wonder.” “Dear me, I wish I could have found out who _she_ was. I wonder if it will turn out to be my sister’s friend. She was a great deal older than I am, of course, and might very well have grown-up sons and daughters. For Mary is the eldest of us all, and if she had ever had any children, they would have been grown up by this time. We will see whether she will say anything about Mary. And I wonder if you will like the girls. They will always have been accustomed to more luxury than would be at all becoming to a country gentleman’s daughter like you. And I wonder if the young man--the brother--will be always at Allonby. We will have to ask them to their dinner. And I wonder----” But here Mrs. Ogilvie’s wonderings were cut short on her lips; and so great was her astonishment that her lips dropped apart, and she sat gaping, incapable of speech. “I declare!” she cried at last, and could say no more. The cause of this consternation was that, as they entered the avenue of Allonby, another vehicle met them coming down. And this turned out to be the carriage from the inn, which was the only one to be had for ten miles round, conveying Miss Dempster and Miss Beenie, in their best apparel. The Gilston coachman stopped, as was natural, and so did the driver of the cab. “Well,” cried Miss Dempster, waving her hand, “ye are going, I see, after all. We’ve just been having our lunch with them. Since it was to be done, it was just as well to do it in good time. And a very nice luncheon it was, and nicely set upon the table, that I must say--but how can you wonder, with such a number of servants! If they’re not good for that, they’re good for nothing. There was just too much, a great deal too much, upon the table; and a fine set-out of plate, and----” “Sarah, Mrs. Ogilvie is not minding about that.” “Mrs. Ogilvie is like other folk, and likes to hear our first impressions. And, Effie, you will need just to trim up your beaver; for, though they are not what you can call fine, they are in the flower of the fashion. We’ll keep you no longer. Sandy, you may drive on. Eh! no--stop a moment,” cried the old lady, flourishing her umbrella.