Frozen Heart . Elizabeth Rudnick
of which Claudia gratefully partook.
And then Katie, with an old nurse's tenderness, saw her mistress comfortably to bed, and cleared and darkened the room and left her to repose.
But Claudia did not sleep. Her thoughts were too busy with the subject of Lord Vincent's strange conduct from the time that he had at Niagara received those three suspicious letters up to this time, when with his face hid he was walking up and down the streets of Liverpool.
That he sought concealment she felt assured by many circumstances: his coming to this obscure tavern; his choosing to take his meals and smoke his pipe in his bedroom; and his walking out with his face muffled—all of which was in direct antagonism to Lord Vincent's fastidious habits; and, finally, his taking a whole carriage in the railway train, for no other purpose than to have himself and his party entirely isolated from their fellow-passengers.
Lord Vincent came in early, and, thanks to the narcotic qualities of the ale, he soon fell asleep.
Claudia had scarcely dropped into a doze before, at the dismal hour of three o'clock in the morning, they were roused up to get ready for the train. They made a hurried toilet and ate a hasty breakfast, and then set out for the station.
It was a raw, damp, foggy morning. The atmosphere seemed as dense and as white as milk. No one could see a foot in advance. And Claudia wondered how the cabmen managed to get along at all.
They reached the station just as the train was about to start, and had barely time to hurry into the carriage that had been engaged for them before the whistle shrieked and they were off. Fortunately Frisbie had sent the luggage on in advance, and got it ticketed.
The carriage had four back and four front seats. Lord and Lady Vincent occupied two of the back seats, and their four servants the front ones. As they went on the fog really seemed to thicken. They traveled slowly and stopped often. And Claudia, in surprise, remarked upon these facts.
"One might as well be in a stage—for speed," she complained.
"It is the parliamentary train," he replied.
"I have heard you say that before; but I do not know what you mean by 'parliamentary' as applied to railway trains."
"It is the cheap train, the slow train, the people's train; in fact, one that, in addition to first- and second-class carriages, drags behind it an interminable length of rough cars, in which the lower orders travel," said his lordship.
"But why is it called the 'parliamentary'?"
"Because it was instituted by act of parliament for the accommodation of the people, or perhaps because it is so heavy and slow."
On they went, hour after hour, stopping every three or four miles, while the fog seemed still to condense and whiten.
At noon the train reached York, and stopped twenty minutes for refreshment. Lord Vincent did not leave the carriage, but sent his valet out to the station restaurant to procure what was needful for his party. And while the passengers were all hurrying to and fro, and looking in at the carriage, he drew the curtains of his windows, and sat back far in his seat.
Claudia would gladly have left the train and spent the interval in contemplating, even if it were only the outside of the ancient cathedral of which she had read and heard so much.
Lord Vincent assured her there was no time to lose in sight-seeing then, but promised that she should visit York at some future period.
And the train started again. They began to leave the fog behind them as they approached the seacoast. They soon came in sight of the North Sea, beside which the railway ran for some hundred miles. Here all was bright and clear. And Claudia for a time forgot all the suspicions and anxieties that disturbed her mind, and with all a stranger's interest gazed on the grandeur of the scenery and dreamed over the associations it awakened.
Here "lofty Seaton-Delaval" was pointed out to her. And Tinemouth, famed in song for its "haughty prioress," and "Holy Isle," memorable for the inhumation of Constance de Beverly.
At sunset they crossed Berwick bridge and entered Scotland.
Claudia was entirely lost in gazing on the present landscape, and dreaming of its past history. Here the association between scenery and poetry was perfect. Nature is ever young—and this was the very scene and the very hour described in Scott's immortal poem, and as Claudia gazed she murmured the lines:
"Day set on Norham's castled steep,
And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep,
And Cheviot's mountains lone;
The battled towers, the donjon keep,
The flanking walls that round it sweep,
In yellow luster shone,"
Yes! it was the very scene, viewed at the very hour, just as the poet described it to have been two hundred years before, when
"Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye,
Of Lutterward and Scrivelbaye,
Of Tamworth tower and town,"
crossed with his knightly train into Scotland. There was the setting sun burnishing the brown tops of the Cheviot hills; gilding the distant ruined towers of Norham Castle, and lighting up the waters of the Tweed.
But there is little time for either observation or dreaming in a railway train.
They stopped but a few minutes at Berwick, and then shot off northward, still keeping near the coast.
Claudia looked out upon the gray North Sea, and enjoyed the magnificence of the coast scenery as long as the daylight lasted.
When it was growing dark Lord Vincent said:
"You had just as well close that window, Claudia. It will give us all cold; and besides, you can see but little now."
"I can see Night drawing her curtain of darkness around the bed of the troubled waters. It is worth watching," murmured Claudia dreamily.
"Bosh!" was the elegant response of the viscount; "you will see enough of the North Sea before you have done with it, I fancy." And with an emphatic clap he let down the window.
Claudia shrugged her shoulders and turned away, too proud to dispute a point that she was powerless to decide.
They sped on towards Edinboro', through the darkness of one of the darkest nights that ever fell. Even had the window been open Claudia could not have caught a glimpse of the scenery. She had no idea that they were near the capital of Scotland until the train ran into the station. Then all was bustle among those who intended to get out there.
But through all the bustle Lord Vincent and his party kept their seats,
"I am very weary of this train. I have not left my seat for many hours. Can we not stop over night here? I should like to see Edinboro' by daylight," Claudia inquired.
"What did you say?" asked Lord Vincent, with nonchalance.
Claudia repeated her question, adding:
"I should like to remain a day or two in Edinboro'. I wish to see the Castle, and Holyrood Palace and Abbey, and Roslyn and Craigmiller, and——"
"Everything else, of course. Bother! We have no time for that. I have taken our tickets for Aberdeen, and mean to sleep at Castle Cragg to-night," replied the viscount.
Claudia turned away her head to conceal the indignant tears that arose to her eyes. She was beginning to discover that her comfort, convenience, and inclination were just about the last circumstances that her husband was disposed to take into consideration. What a dire reverse for her, whose will from her earliest recollection had been the law to all around her!
The train started again and sped on its way through the darkness of the night towards Aberdeen, where they arrived about eight o'clock.
"Here at last the railway journey ends, thank Heaven," sighed Claudia, as the train slackened