“Mine’s soon told. After you started for Hurst Leigh I got a letter from a man at Wermesley——”
“Wermesley!” exclaimed Jack. “Why——”
“Yes, it is on the same line. He wanted me to go down to look over some deeds, and I went. I took a return ticket and got into the last train. When I got into the carriage—I went ‘first’ on the strength of the business—I saw a young lady—mind, a young lady—seated in a corner. It struck me as rather odd that a young girl should be traveling alone at this time of night, and I shifted about until I could get a good look at her. Jack, you’re not the only man that has seen a beautiful girl within the last week.”
“Beautiful, eh?” cried Jack, interested.
“Beautiful in my eyes. The sort of face that Cleopatra might have had when she was that girl’s age. I never saw such eyes, and I had plenty of opportunity of seeing them, for she seemed quite unconscious of my presence. Jack, I’m a shy man, and I’m often sorry for it, but I was never sorrier than I was then, for I’d have given anything to have been able to speak to her and hear her speak. There she sat, looking like a picture, quite motionless, with her eyes fixed on the flare of the lamp; and there I sat and couldn’t pluck up courage to say a word. At last we got to London; they came for the tickets, and she couldn’t find hers. I went down on my hands and knees, and at last I found the ticket under the seat. I looked at it as I gave it to the porter; and where do you think it was from?”
Jack shook his head. He didn’t think it much of an adventure after Una and Warden Forest.
“You’ll never guess. What do you say to Hurst Leigh?”
“Hurst Leigh! Why, who was she? Somebody I know, perhaps.”
“I found my tongue at last, and said, ‘You have had a long journey. Hurst Leigh is a beautiful place.’ And what do you think she said?”
Jack shook his head.