“But what! Of course she remembered the Signorine Scozzese! But the misfortune! The poor Signora del Monte, (it was by this name that Aunt Perdy was known to the district) taken ill suddenly, had only the day before been fetched away by the other Signora, her sister – doubtless also well known to the Signorina – who had at Turin the fine house and the distinguished family! At Turin for certain the Signora del Monte would be well cared for. Nor did Aurora expect her return for some weeks. What was to be done?”

Joanna did nothing and suggested nothing. She merely stayed quietly on at the cottage. While she felt no particular relief at her Aunt’s absence, neither did she feel any disappointment; and Aurora seeing this, fell in with it unquestioningly. She waited on the niece as she had waited on the Aunt, as a matter of course; and Joanna with her return ticket safe, was able to eke out over some six weeks money that in London would hardly have lasted for one.

Between the garden and the orchard, with eggs and an occasional fowl from Aurora, she found food enough, and other needs she had none. Occupation there was for her in plenty. She washed and mended whatever of Aunt Perdy’s she could find that needed repair, put the cottage in shining order, weeded and dug in the garden, and between whiles she lay for hours at a time on the garden’s highest ridge from where she could gaze upon the wide, sparkling sweep of the sea. Often then she remembered those sea-going ships upon the Clyde that had nearly drawn the childish heart out of her breast. But up till now all her adventures had been inland. Only now was she loosed – if so be the capacity lay in her at all – for the true voyage.

But the will to shape circumstances or to force an issue was gone from her. She had become submissive to the uncomprehended current of events. She did not grieve or rejoice. She did not live. She only waited.