"We must, Raymond; we must," said Salome. "Raymond!"
But Raymond was gone, and Salome stood laden with small parcels, while poor Stevens was counting over the boxes.
The gardener had a beautiful basket of flowers ready, and had filled a hamper with the best fruit and vegetables from the Maplestone gardens.
"I have put up a melon, Miss Wilton, and a lot of grapes. Mind how the hamper is unpacked. You'll still have some more flowers soon, for I shall be coming up to Roxburgh."
"Perhaps we had better not, thank you, Thomas. They are not ours now, you know—nothing is ours;" and, as often happens, the sound of her own voice as she gave utterance to the sad truth was too much for her. She put her little hand into Thomas's, and said in a broken voice, "Here comes the train! Good-bye, Thomas; good-bye."
At this moment Reginald, who had been doing his utmost to help poor Stevens, came up.
"Now, dear Salome, make haste. Here's an empty carriage."
"Third class? Here you are. How many seats?" said a porter.
"This way, do you hear?" Raymond called. "This way. Stevens is to go there, and you must come with me. I've got the tickets."
"Hallo, Wilton!" said a pleasant voice, "where are you off to?"