“I must beg that you will do nothing of the kind.”
He was amazed, but was clever enough to suppress everything but one quick glance of annoyance and surprise. Then he merely elevated his eyebrows, raised his hat, and with a careless “As you please,” went on to Joan Mainwaring.
The next day Miss Lane took a cold farewell of the family in which she had worked so hard, and was allowed to go by herself in a cab to Beckham Station. She had been able to remain calm in the face of them all; but before the two-mile drive was over, she was half-blind with tears. To be dismissed so coldly when she had tried so hard to do her duty well and to please them! To be dismissed, too, with an undeserved stain upon her character! It was too hard, too cruel, that at the outset of her life, when her very livelihood depended upon her own efforts, she should find herself clogged by this most unjust burden.
She was drying her eyes and trying to look as if she had not been crying as the cab reached the town, when a young man on horseback, who was riding in the opposite direction, passed, caught sight of her, and turning his horse’s head, followed the cab into the station. She was late, and the ticket-office was already open. She had just taken her ticket, and was walking away, with her eyes upon the purse in her hand, when a voice by her side made her look up with a start. It was Harry’s.
He was all mud-splashed with hard riding, his face was red and ashamed, and his voice was low and unsteady.
“Miss Lane, let me see after your luggage. Do—do let me, or—or I shall never forgive myself!”
She pointed it out to him very quietly, without a word except “Thank you.”
He saw it put into the van, found a corner-seat for her in an empty second class carriage, helped her in, and stood by the door nervously twisting the heavy handle.
“When are the holidays over, Miss Lane? When are you coming back?”
“I am not coming back here.”