When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Chapter ThreeDriving in a Post-chaise, which D’Arcy Archer had found great difficulty in procuring, Ilouka thought that it was certainly swifter and more comfortable than the stagecoach. They had missed the stagecoach because it had passed through the village earlier in the day, when they were attending the funerals of Hannah and Lucille Ganymede. As they stood at the open graves in the small Churchyard where most of the tombstones were hundreds of years old, Ilouka felt that what was happening could not be reality. It just seemed impossible that she had left home with Hannah, being her usual oppressive rather disagreeable self and now, by the mere chance of where she had sat in the coach, she was dead. ‘If I had been sitting where she was,’ Ilouka thought, ‘I, like the young actress,