But, raising his hat with a grave bow, Justin said:
“I will see you to the station. Eastworth and my father are a sufficient bodyguard to Erminie.”
And before the beautiful man-hater could object, he had taken her hand and was leading her from the boat.
He placed her in a carriage, entered and took a seat by her side, and gave the order to drive to the Baltimore railway station.
All this was done in spite of Britomarte’s tacit protest. He did not, however, obtrude his conversation upon her. The drive was finished in silence.
On their arrival at the station, he procured her ticket, checked her baggage, and then placed her in one of the most comfortable seats in the ladies’ car.
Even then he did not leave her, but remained stationed by her until the shrill, unearthly whistle of the engine warned him to leave.
Then, bending over her, he took her hand and whispered low:
“Miss Conyers, I never utter vain or hasty words. What I speak now, I speak earnestly from the depths of my heart. In me you have a friend through good report and evil report, through life and death, through time and eternity. I have never spoken these words to any human being before this; I never shall speak them to any other after this. Good-by; we shall meet again in a happier hour.”