It was a relief when the hour came to lock my door, to bid
farewell to London pursuits, London pupils, and London friends,
and to be in movement again towards new interests and a new life.
Even the bustle and confusion at the railway terminus, so
wearisome and bewildering at other times, roused me and did me
good.



My travelling instructions directed me to go to Carlisle, and then
to diverge by a branch railway which ran in the direction of the
coast. As a misfortune to begin with, our engine broke down
between Lancaster and Carlisle. The delay occasioned by this
accident caused me to be too late for the branch train, by which I
was to have gone on immediately. I had to wait some hours; and
when a later train finally deposited me at the nearest station to
Limmeridge House, it was past ten, and the night was so dark that
I could hardly see my way to the pony-chaise which Mr. Fairlie had
ordered to be in waiting for me.

The driver was evidently discomposed by the lateness of my
arrival. He was in that state of highly respectful sulkiness
which is peculiar to English servants. We drove away slowly
through the darkness in perfect silence. The roads were bad, and
the dense obscurity of the night increased the difficulty of
getting over the ground quickly. It was, by my watch, nearly an
hour and a half from the time of our leaving the station before I
heard the sound of the sea in the distance, and the crunch of our
wheels on a smooth gravel drive. We had passed one gate before
entering the drive, and we passed another before we drew up at the