"In a very agreeable way--you are going to travel. Your father
wishes you to be in London, in time for the evening mail to
France."

Cecilia guessed what had happened. "My sister is not getting
well," she said, "and the doctors are sending her to the
Continent."

"To the baths at St. Moritz," Emily added. "There is only one
difficulty in the way; and you can remove it. Your sister has the
good old governess to take care of her, and the courier to
relieve her of all trouble on the journey. They were to have
started yesterday. You know how fond Julia is of you. At the last
moment, she won't hear of going away, unless you go too. The
rooms are waiting at St. Moritz; and your father is annoyed (the
governess says) by the delay that has taken place already."

She paused. Cecilia was silent. "Surely you don't hesitate?"
Emily said.

"I am too happy to go wherever Julia go es," Cecilia answered
warmly; "I was thinking of you, dear." Her tender nature,
shrinking from the hard necessities of life, shrank from the
cruelly-close prospect of parting. "I thought we were to have had
some hours together yet," she said. "Why are we hurried in this
way? There is no second train to London, from our station, till
late in the afternoon."

"There is the express," Emily reminded her; "and there is time to