“I swear it by this kiss.”
“Pardie, Monsieur? you are very adventurous,” said she, repulsing me; “you will make me not regret that you are going so soon.”
“Oh, Pauline! when you know that I adore you, that I only value wealth to share it with you; that all I ask of life is to devote it to you.”
“And that you have n't got full thirty seconds left for that admirable object,” broke in Eccles. “We must run for it like fury, boy, or we shall be late.”
“I'll not go.”
“Then I 'll be shot if I stay here and meet your father,” said he, turning away.
“Oh, Pauline, dearest, dearest of my heart!” I sobbed out, as I fell upon her neck; and the vile bell of the railway rang out with its infernal discord as I clasped her to my heart.
“Come along, and confound you,” cried Eccles; and with a porter on one side and Eccles on the other, I was hurried along down the garden, across a road, and along a platform, where the station-master, wild with passion, stamped and swore in a very different mood from that in which he smiled at me across the supper-table the night before.
“We're waiting for that boy of Norcott's, I vow,” said an old fellow with a gray moustache; and I marked him out for future recognition.
Unlike my first journey, where all seemed confusion, trouble, and annoyance, I now saw only pleasant faces, and people bent on enjoyment. We were on the great tourist road of Europe, and it seemed as though every one was bound on some errand of amusement. Eccles, too, was a pleasant contrast to the courier who took charge of me on my first journey. Nothing could be more genial than his manner. He treated me with a perfect equality, and by that greatest of all flatteries to one of my age, induced me to believe that I was actually companionable to himself.