"Look, what a sweet cottage that is almost hidden among the trees. An elegant cottage of white freestone built after the Grecian order. How strange, Fabian, to find such a bijou here in this wild, remote section."
"Probably the residence of some well-to-do official connected with our works," said Mr. Fabian, carelessly; then—"Will you come out to the refreshment rooms and have some tea? See, they are on the opposite side of the train."
Violet turned and looked on a very different scene. No wooded and secluded valley with its one lovely cottage, but a row of open saloons and restaurants, crowded and noisy.
"No; I think I will not go in there. It is not pretty. You may send me a cup of tea. I will sit here and enjoy this beautiful valley scene. And oh, Fabian! Look there, coming up the hillside, what a beautiful woman!"
Mr. Fabian looked out and saw and recognized Rose Stillwater and saw that she had recognized him. She was coming directly toward the train.
"Sit here, my love; I will go and bring you some refreshments. Don't attempt to get out, dearest; to do so might be dangerous. I will not be long," he said, hastily, and rising, he hurried after the other passengers out of the car.
But instead of going into the railway restaurant he went back to the rear of the train, placed himself where he stood out of sight of his wife and of all his fellow passengers, yet in full view of the approaching woman.
"What devil brings that serpent here?" he muttered to himself. "I must intercept her. She must not go on board the train. She must not approach my little wood violet. Good heavens, no!"
But the woman turned aside voluntarily from her course to the stationary train and walked directly toward himself.
"Well, Rose," he said, in as pleasant a voice as his perturbation of mind would permit him to use.