CHAPTER XIV.
THE DEPARTURE FROM THE VILLAGE.
They who have been unaccustomed to travel, find the job of preparing to leave home a strong one. However inconsiderable the journey may be, or however short the contemplated stay, the preparations which they deem essential are great. Much thought is brought to bear upon the preliminaries, much time is occupied in carrying out the scheme, and when that has been perfected and the day of departure arrives, the excitement is generally excessive.
Aunt Eleanor had been unaccustomed to travel: she found the job of preparing to leave home a strong job: she brought much thought to bear directly upon the preliminaries, and occupied much time in perfecting the scheme: nor did she expect that on the morning of her departure, she should have the slightest appetite for breakfast, for the village may be said to have been her world, and if the idea of leaving that village did not appear to her like that of leaving the world, her feelings bore a very strong affinity to those of persons who are about to visit some distant land.
On the day, however, immediately preceding that appointed for her journey to London, other feelings were inspired; for while walking alone in her garden, contemplating the change she was about to experience, and endeavouring to recollect if anything had been forgotten, she saw lying on the table in the arbour, a carefully-folded note, sealed with the family crest, and superscribed "Rosalie."
"What on earth have we here?" she exclaimed, as she turned the note over and over again. "The hand-writing resembles that of Sylvester! yet surely it cannot be his! Rosalie!—Dear me, what can it mean? Rosalie!—How very mysterious."
While anxiously dwelling upon this little incident, and considering what course she could with propriety pursue, her reverend friend entered the garden, and when they had greeted each other with their accustomed cordiality, she explained to him how she had found the note, and then proceeded to solicit his advice.
"It's very odd," said the reverend gentleman, "very odd; nay, it's remarkably odd. But let us go in, and see what we can make of it."
Into the house they accordingly went, and when they were seated, the reverend gentleman took the note, and having looked very severely at the superscription and the seal, turned it over and over and over again, with an expression of intense curiosity.
"Well," said he, at length, "let us look at the contents."
"Will it be correct," said Aunt Eleanor, "to open it?"
"Perfectly so, my dear madam!—of course!"
