Those few words gave Rachel a strong antipathy to the Major.

Then began a conversation under difficulties, Fanny trying to inquire
after her aunt, and Rachel to detail the arrangements made for her at
Myrtlewood, while the two boys were each accommodated with a window;
but each moment they were claiming their mother's attention, or
rushing across the ladies' feet to each other's window, treating
Rachel's knees as a pivot, and vouchsafing not the slightest heed to
her attempts at intelligent pointing out of the new scenes.

And Fanny made no apology, but seemed pleased, ready with answers and
with eyes, apparently ignorant that Rachel's toes were less
insensible than her own, and her heavy three-years-old Wilfred asleep
on her lap all the time.

"She feeble, helpless, sickly!" thought Rachel, "I should have been
less tired had I walked the twenty miles!"

She gave up talking in despair, and by the time the young gentlemen
had tired themselves into quiescence, and began to eat the
provisions, both ladies were glad to be allowed a little silence.

Coming over the last hill, Conrade roused at his mother's summons to
look out at "home," and every word between them showed how fondly
Avonmouth had been remembered far away.

"The sea!" said Fanny, leaning forwards to catch sight of the long
grey line; "it is hard to believe we have been on it so long, this
seems so much more my own."