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That night she sat opposite her aunt beside the fire。 The house lay dead and empty behind them。 Aunt Anne was so neat in her thin black silk； her black shining hair； her pale pointed face； a little round white locket rising and falling ever so slowly with the lift of her breast。 There were white frills to her sleeves； and she read a slim book bound in purple leather。 Her body never moved； only once and again her thin； delicate hand ever so gently lifted； turned a page； then settled down on to her lap once more。 She never raised her eyes。
The fire was heavy and sullen； the wind howled； that old familiar beating of the twigs upon the pane seemed to reiterate to Maggie that this was her last evening。 She pretended to read。 She had found a heavy gilt volume of Paradise Lost with Dore's pictures。 She read these words：
Beyond this flood a frozen Continent Lies dark and wilde； beat with perpetual storms Of whirlwind and dire hail； which on firm land Thaws not； but gathers heap； and ruin seems Of ancient pile； all else deep snow and ice； A gulf profound as that Serbonian bay Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old； Where armies whole have sunk； the parching Air Burns froze； and cold performs the effect of Fire。
Further again； words caught her eye。
Thus roving on In confused march forlorn； th' adventurous Bands With shuddering horror pale； and eyes aghast Viewed first their lamentable lot； and found No rest； through many a dark and drearie Vaile They passed； and many a Region dolorous。 O'er many a frozen； many a fiery Alpe； Rocks； Caves； Lakes； Fens； Bogs； Dens and shades of death； A Universe of death； which God by curse Created evil； for evil only good Where all life dies； death lives； and nature breaks Perverse； all monstrous； all prodigious things； Abominable； inutterable； and worse Than Fables yet have feigned； or fear conceived； Gorgons； and Hydras； and Chimaeras dire。
She did not care for reading； most especially she did not care for poetry； but to…night she saw the picture。 Up to the very bounds of the house this waste country； filled with beasts of prey； animals with fiery eyes and incredible names； the long stretch of snow and ice； the black water with no stars reflected in it； the wind。
A coal crashed in the fire； she gave a little cry。
〃My dear； what is it？〃 said Aunt Anne。 Then； with a little shake of her shoulders； she added： 〃There's a horrid draught。 Perhaps you forgot to close the kitchen…door when you came away； Maggie dear。〃
Maggie flushed。 Of course she had forgotten。 She left the room； crossed the hall。 Yes； there was the door； wide open。 She locked it； the place was utterly cold and desolate。 She closed the door； stood for a moment in the little hall。
〃I don't care what's going to happen！〃 she cried aloud。 So ended her life in that house。
CHAPTER III
THE LONDON HOUSE
It was strange after this that the start on the London journey should be so curiously unexciting； it was perhaps the presence of Aunt Anne that reduced everything to an unemotional level。 Maggie wondered as she sat in the old moth…eaten； whisky…smelling cab whether her Aunt Anne was ever moved about anything。 Then something occurred that showed her that； as yet； she knew very little about her aunt。 As； clamping down the stony hill； they had a last glimpse at the corner of the two Vicarage chimneys； looking above the high hedge like a pair of inquisitive lunatics； Maggie choked。 She pressed her hands together； pushed her hair from her face and； in so doing； touched her black hat。
〃Your hat's crooked； Maggie dear；〃 said her aunt gently。 The girl's hot hands clutched the soft packet of sandwiches and a little black handbag that yesterday Aunt Anne had bought for her in the village。 It was a shabby little bag； and had strange habits of opening when it was not expected to do so and remaining shut when something was needed from it。 It gaped now and； just as the cab climbed Cator Hill； it fell forward and flung the contents on to the floor。 Maggie； blushing； looked up expecting a reproof。 She saw that her aunt's eyes were fixed upon the view； as upon the day of her arrival； so now。 Her face wore a look of rapture。 She drank it in。
Maggie also took the last joy of the familiar scene。 The Vicarage； like a grey crouching cat； lay basking on the green hill。 The sunlight flooded the dark wood； galleons of clouds rolled like lumbering vessels across the blue sky。
〃It's lovely； isn't it？〃 whispered Maggie。
〃Beautifulbeautiful；〃 sighed her aunt。
〃I've always loved just this view。 I've often walked here just to see it；〃 Maggie said。
Aunt Anne sat back in her seat。
〃It's been hard for me always to live in London。 I love the country so。〃
〃So do I；〃 said Maggie； passionately。
For a moment they were together； caught up by the same happiness。
Then Aunt Anne said：
〃Why； your bag； dear！ The things are all about the place。〃
Maggie bent down。 When she looked up again they had dipped down on the other side of the hill。
Maggie had only once in all her life been in a train； but on this present occasion she did not find it very thrilling。 It was rather like being in anything else； and her imagination exercised itself upon the people in the carriage rather than the scenery outside。 She was at first extremely self…conscious and fancied that every one whispered about her。 Then； lulled by the motion of the train and the warmth； she slept； she was more deeply exhausted by the events of the last week than she knew； and throughout the day she slumbered； woke； and slumbered again。
Quite suddenly she awoke with a definite shock to a new world。 Evening had come； there were lights that rushed up to the train； stared in at the window； and rushed away again。 On every side things seemed to change places in a general post； trees and houses； hedges and roads； all lit by an evening moon and wrapt in a white and wavering mist。 Then the town was upon them； quite instantly； streets ran like ribbons into grey folds of buildings； rows of lamps； scattered at first； drew into a single point of dancing flame； towers and chimneys seemed to jump from place to place as though they were trying to keep in time with the train； a bell rang monotonously； wreaths of smoke rose lazily against the stars and fell again。
When at last she found herself； a tiny figure； standing upon the vast platform under the high black dome； the noise and confusion excited and delighted her。 She rose to the waves of sound as a swimmer rises in the sea； her heart beat fast； and she was so eagerly engaged in looking about her； in staring at the hurrying people； in locating the shrill screams of the engines； in determining not to jump when the carriages jolted together； that her little black bag opened unexpectedly once more and spilled a handkerchief； a hand…mirror； a paper packet of sweets； a small pair of scissors； and a shabby brown purse upon the station…floor。 She was greatly confused when an old gentleman helped her to pick them up。 The little mirror was broken。
〃Oh！ it's bad luck！〃 she cried； staring distressfully at the old man。 He smiled； and would have certainly been very agreeable to her had not Aunt Anne； who had been finding their boxes a