hing--I
mean--there is no help for it!" And here her voice dropped to a mere
whisper.

"I sincerely trust," said I, in an accent of great deference and
sympathy, "that the delay may not be the cause of grave inconvenience to
you; and although a perfect stranger, if any assistance I can offer--"

"No, sir; there is really nothing I could ask from your kindness." It was
in turning back to bid good-bye a second time to my mother--Here her
agitation seemed to choke her, for she turned away and said no more.

"Shall I fetch a cab for you?" I asked. "Would you like to go back till
the next train starts?"

"Oh, by no means, sir! We live three miles from Milford; and, besides,
I could not bear--" Here again she broke down, but added, after a pause,
"It is the first time I have been away from home!"

With a little gentle force I succeeded in inducing her to enter the
refreshment-room of the station, but she would take nothing; and after
some attempts to engage her in conversation to while away the dreary
time, I perceived that it would be a more true politeness not to obtrude
upon her sorrow; and so I lighted my cigar, and proceeded to walk up and
down the long terrace of the station. Three trunks, or rather two and
a hat-box, kept my knapsack company on the side of the tramway; and on
these I read, inscribed in a large band, "Miss K. Herbert, per steamer
'Ardent,' Ostend." I started. Was it not in that direction my own steps
were turned? Was not Blondel in Belgium, and was it not in search of him
that I was bent? "Oh, Fate!" I cried, "what subtle device of thine is
this? What wily artifice art thou now engaged in? Is this a snare, or is
it an aid? Hast thou any secret purpose in this rencontre? for with thee
there are no chances, no accidents in thy vicissitudes; all is prepared
and fitted, like a piece of door carpentry." And then I fell into
weaving a story for the young lady. She was an orphan. Her father, the
curate of the little parish she lived in, had just died, leaving herself
and her mother in direst distress. She was leaving home,--the happy
home of her childhood (I saw it all before me,--cottage, and garden, and
little lawn, with its one cow and two sheep, and the small green wicket
beside the road), and she was leaving all these to become a governess to
an upstart, mill-owning, vulgar family at Brussels. Poor thing! how my
heart bled for her! What a life of misery lay before her,--what
trials of temper and of p