“So much the better. I cannot endure the idea of your passing under a fictitious name, and yet you must not be known as Eudora Leaton. I shall therefore call you Miss Milnes; do not forget it. And if your other name is marked upon any of your clothing, do not fail to cut it out, lest it should meet the eye of your laundress. As you bring no clothing with you, you will have to procure a small supply from some outfitter, and be sure to order them marked ‘E. Milnes.’ They will think ‘E’ stands for Emily, or Eliza, or some such common name. Dear girl, I trust these precautions will not long be needful,” said Malcolm, endeavoring to infuse into her heart a hope that he himself was far from feeling.
The train flew onward, and soon the lights of London were seen to the southward before them.
Day was dawning when the train arrived at the King’s-cross station.
“Now, my dearest Eudora, you must trust yourself entirely to me, believing that I will do all that is best for your safety,” said Malcolm, as the train stopped.
“I am sure that you will, my best and only friend; besides, who in the world have I now to trust in but yourself?” said Eudora, in deep emotion.
“You shall never regret the confidence you place in me, Eudora,” replied Malcolm, earnestly.
At this moment the guard opened the door. He was the same man who had put them into the coupé at the Abbeytown Station; and in grateful remembrance of the crown-piece given him by Mr. Montrose, he now politely inquired if the gentleman wanted a cab, and offered to call one.
Malcolm perceived at once that this man would be sure to remember himself and his black-veiled companion, and would be able to describe her appearance if inquiries should be made of him, as they were nearly certain to be. He felt, therefore, the necessity of throwing the man off the scent of his own purposed course. With this design, he inquired:
“When does the next train start for Liverpool?”
“At five thirty, sir.”