A very polite bow from Captain Montgomery — a very slight one
from the lady — and off they drove.

"Proud enough," thought the captain, as he went up the stairs
again. "I reckon she don't thank me for her travelling
companion. But Ellen's off — that's one good thing — and now
I'll go and engage berths in the England."


CHAPTER VII.

"Strangers walk as friends."


The long drive to the boat was only a sorrowful blank to
Ellen's recollection. She did not see the frowns that passed
between her companions on her account. She did not know that
her white bonnet was such a matter of merriment to Margaret
Dunscombe and the maid, that they could hardly contain
themselves. She did not find out that Miss Margaret's fingers
were busy with her paper of sweets, which only a good string
and a sound knot kept her from rifling. Yet she felt very well
that nobody there cared in the least for her sorrow. It
mattered nothing; she wept on in her loneliness, and knew
nothing that happened, till the carriage stopped on the wharf;
even then she did not raise her head. Mrs. Dunscombe got out,
and saw her daughter and servant do the same; then after
giving some orders about the baggage, she returned to Ellen.

"Will you get out, Miss Montgomery, or would you prefer to