"My dear Valerie, I think it will be for the best, and therefore you will oblige me. I have promised for you, and I should be sorry to have to recall my promise--so consent, my dear, and I will write to Madame Bathurst, that she may be prepared to receive you." "Certainly, madame," replied I, "your wishes will ever be a law to me:" and so saying, I left the room, and going to my own chamber, I threw myself down on the bed, and wept bitterly without knowing why. About ten days after this, Madame Bathurst called for me to take me to the chateau of Monsieur de G--'s father, where I was to remain till the next morning, when we were to post to Paris. It was with great pain that I quitted Madame d'Albret, but her kindness to me appeared to have increased rather than diminished, after the proposal of our short separation. "God bless you, my dear Valerie," she said, "you must write to me twice a week; I shall be most impatient for your return." I parted from her with many tears, and did not leave off weeping till we arrived at the chateau, at which Madame Bathurst resided. I was received with formal politeness by the old gentleman, and Monsieur de G--, who was also at home, and in an excessive gay humour. "Alas, mademoiselle," cried he, "what a desert you will leave behind you! It is too cruel, this travelling mania on your part. We never shall see you again." There was so much irony in his face as he said this, that I hardly knew what to make of it; but it made me feel anxious and dissatisfied. I would have given much to have abandoned the journey, but Madame d'Albret's wishes were a law to me. To avoid reflection, which was painful, I talked with Caroline, the niece of Madame Bathurst, and as we were to set off at daylight, we retired early. The following morning we set off, and in due time arrived at Paris, where we remained but one day, and then proceeded to Boulogne, where we embarked. It was now November, and half-way across the Channel we were enveloped in a fog, and it was with difficulty that we made the harbour. We set off for London, the fog continued during the whole day, and on our arrival at the suburbs it was thicker than ever, and the horses were led through the streets by people carrying flambeaux. I had heard that England was a _triste pays_, and I thought it so indeed. At last I observed to Madame Bathurst, "Est-ce qu'il n'y a jamais de soleil dans ce pays, madame?" "Oh, yes," replied she, laughing, "and a very beautiful sun too."