To Journey Together by Mary Burchell Read Free Book Online Page A

she suddenly realized what he had called her. "But I'm not Miss Connelton," she added with a smile.
    "No?" He looked rather unexpectedly taken aback. "But isn't that Sir Danniel Connelton you are travelling with? —and Lady Connelton?"
    "Yes, certainly. But I'm not their daughter, you know. I am Sir Daniel's secretary, and my name is Elinor Shearn."
    "Is that so?" He smiled and looked as friendly as ever. He even called his sister over and explained the mistake they had made. But Elinor had the curious impression that the information she had given him had shaken him more than any information about a virtual stranger had any need to do.

CHAPTER THREE
    I wish I could find words to tell you how beautiful it all is here [Elinor wrote a few days later to her family!. I am sitting now on the glassed-in balcony of my room, where I bring my typewriter each morning. The sun is quite hot, and the snow is sliding from the branches of the fir trees with a soft plopping sound.
    But it is still very much a white world. The snow on the mountains is so thick and so deeply frozen that I suppose it will be a month or more before the real thaw sets in. However, at least the little stream below my window is unfrozen and all day long I hear it chattering over the stones. In the morning and the evening the tinkle of the cowbells sounds above it—and that really is the sweetest sound I think I have ever heard, even in this enchanted place.
    She paused and gazed away into the white and gold and heavenly blue of the world beyond her window. She had been pretty busy during the first few days and only now had she had time to write in any detail, and it was important that she should find just the right words to bring the scene before them all, so that she could feel that the family, in some measure, shared these marvellous experiences of hers.
    The hotel is a lovely chalet-type of building
    [she went on], with lots of polished wood, colour—
    washed walls both inside and out, and great tiled
    stoves that reach almost to the ceiling.
    I think it is patronized mostly by knowledgeable travellers like the Conneltons. For, though there is a much grander hotel quite near, where they have a string orchestra in the dining-room and dancing at night, I gather that we feel rather "uppish" about that, and consider that we are more exclusive and typical of the district!
    There are balconies and fantastically beautiful views to all the rooms, but I really think I have the
     
    loveliest view of all. From my window I can see right across to the Zugspitze, the highest mountain in our vicinity. There is a cable railway up to the top—Kenneth says the highest in the world—and from where I sit I can see the cars (there goes one now!) swaying up or down on the overhead cable.
    Kenneth is going to take me up one day, but it won't be for a while because he is going off tomorrow on a brief tour of some of the holiday centres. I expect we shall miss him.
    But Lady Connelton is an absolute darling to me, and Ilsa and Rudolf von Eiberg are charming. Did I tell you about them? They are the brother and sister I met on the train, coming out. They seem to live most of their time in Vienna, but they are partly Hungarian.
    How I wish I could talk foreign languages the way they do! Which reminds me to ask—if it's not a tactless question, Deborah, dear! how are the French irregulars coming along? The von Eibergs speak such wonderful English that I feel rather self-conscious about my few scraps of German, though I am beginning to pick up quite a reasonable supply of everyday words and phrases.
    Except for the fact that I miss you all, I just could not be happier. If only I could rush home and tell you all about it instead of just writing, it would be perfect. I keep on wondering about Deborah and Henry at school, and Anne at the shop and Edward at the bank. Be sure to tell me all the details when you write. I am longing for news of all the little everyday things.
    Wasn't it