them in the faint moonshine, with boggy levels, black
furze-bushes, and a background of wood on either side. Violet sat
looking steadily out of the window, watching every bit of the road. How
could she tell when she would see it again--or if ever, save in sad
regretful dreams?

They mounted the hill, from whose crest Vixen took one last backwards
look at the wide wild land that lay behind them--a look of ineffable
love and longing. And then she threw herself back in the carriage, and
gave herself up to gloomy thought. There was nothing more that she
cared to see. They had entered the tame dull world of civilisation.
They drove through the village of Eling, where lights burned dimly here
and there in upper windows; they crossed the slow meandering river at
Redbridge. Already the low line of lights in Southampton city began to
shine faintly in the distance. Violet shut her yes and let the
landscape go by. Suburban villas, suburban gardens on a straight road
beside a broad river with very little water in it. There was nothing
here to regret.

It was past eleven when they drove under the old bar, and through the
high street of Southampton. The town seemed strange to Vixen at this
unusual hour. The church clocks were striking the quarter. Down by the
docks everything had a gray and misty look, sky and water
indistinguishable. There lay the Jersey boat, snorting and puffing,
amidst the dim grayness. Captain Winstanley conducted his charge to the
ladies' cabin, with no more words than were positively necessary. They
had not spoken once during the drive from the Abbey House to
Southampton.

"I think you had better stay down here till the vessel has started, at
any rate," said the Captain, "there will be so much bustle and
confusion on deck. I'll take care of your dog."

"Thanks," answered Vixen meekly. "Yes, I'll stay here--you need not
trouble yourself about me."

"Shall I send you something? A cup of tea, the wing of a chicken, a
little wine and water?"

"No, thanks, I don't care about anything."

The Captain withdrew after this to look after the luggage, and to
secure his own berth. The stewardess received Violet as if she had
known her all her life, showed her the couch allotted to her, and to
secure which the Captain had telegraphed that morning from Lyndhurst.

"It was lucky your good gentleman took the precaution to telegraph,
mum," said the cordial stewardess; "the boats are always crowded at
this time of th