Yet, as he directly afterwards thought, it could make no particular difference, since he had no stated engagement to meet, and this consideration enabled him to bear the inevitable delay with a better grace.
“I suppose,” he reflected, “I might as well go back to the hotel.”
He turned to leave the building when a carriage drove hastily up to the station. It was drawn by two horses, and driven by a negro in livery. A lady put her head out of the window and inquired anxiously if the train had started. She addressed this question to Herbert, who happened to be nearest.
“Yes, madam,” he answered, respectfully.
“I am so sorry,” said the lady, in a tone of vexation and perplexity. “It was very important that my father should take that train.”
“There is another train that starts at twelve,” said Herbert. “It will make a difference of a few hours only.”
“Yes,” said the lady, “but you do not understand my difficulty. The few hours' difference in time would be of small importance, but my father is blind, and is, of course, for that reason, dependent upon the kindness of others. A gentleman of our acquaintance was going by this train, who would have taken charge of him and seen him safe to his destination. By losing the train we lose his services.”
“My dear,” said an elderly gentleman, sitting on the opposite seat, “if I can get somebody to see me on board, I think I can manage very well.”
“On no account, father,” was the hasty reply, “particularly under present circumstances.”
“Where is the gentleman going?” asked Herbert, with interest.