gin alone in her room at Castle
Mona. Mrs. Quiggin was still in her room, and still alone. Since the
separation a fortnight before that had been the constant condition of
her existence. Never going out, never even going down for her meals,
rarely speaking of her husband, always thinking of him, and eating out
her heart with pride and vexation, and anger and self-reproach.

It was the hour when the life of the island rises to the fever point;
the hour of the arrival of the steamers from England. All day long the
town had droned and dosed under a drowsy heat. The boatmen and carmen,
with both hands in their breeches' pocket, had been burning the daylight
on the esplanade; the band on the pier had been blowing music out of
lungs that snored between every other blast; and the visitors had been
lolling on the seats of the parade and watching the sea gulls disporting
on the bay with eyes that were drawing straws. But the first trail of
smoke had been seen across the sea by the point of the lighthouse, and
all the slugs and marmots were wide awake: promenade deserted, streets
quiet and pothouses empty; but every front window of every front house
occupied, and the pier crowded with people looking seaward. "She's the
Snaefell?" "No, but the Ben-my-Chree--see, she has four funnels." Then,
the steaming up, the firing of the gun, the landing of the passengers,
the mails and newspapers, the shouting of the touts, the bawling of the
porters, the salutations, the welcomes, the passings of the time of day,
the rattling of the oars, the tinkling of the trams, and the cries
of the newsboys: "This way for Castle Mona!" "Falcon Cliff this way!"
"Echo!" "Evening Express!" "Good passage, John?" "Good." "Five hours?"
"And ten minutes." "What news over the water?" "They've caught him."
"Never." "Express!" "Fort Anne here--here for Villiers." "Comfortable
lodgings, sir." "Take a card, ma'am." "What verdict d'ye say?" "She's
got ten years." "Had fine weather in the island?" "Fine." "Echo! Evening
Echo!" "Fort Anne this way!" "Gladstone in Liverpool?" "Yes, spoke at
Hengler's last night--fearful crush." "Castle Mona!" "Evening News!"
"Peveril!" "This way Falcon Cliff!" "Ex-press!"

Thus, leaving the pier and the steamers behind them, through the streets
and into the hotels, the houses, the cars, and the trains go, the new
comers, and the newspapers, and the letters from England, all hot
and active, bringing word of the main land, with its hub-bub