"It is not much, sir; it is just to deliver this parcel to a young lady who is waiting for it at the station."
"A young lady who is waiting for it at the station?" said Trevor.
"Yes, sir: Miss Florence Aylmer. There is no answer, sir."
Trevor received the little brown-paper parcel, very neatly made up and addressed to Miss Florence Aylmer, in unbounded astonishment.
Thomas, relieved and feeling that his duty was well done, gave the mare her head and was soon out of sight. Trevor entered the station. He went to the ladies' waiting-room, and there saw Florence Aylmer. She came to the door the moment he appeared.
"What are you doing here?" was his exclamation.
"You may well wonder. But why are you here?"
"I came to give you this." As she spoke he placed the little parcel in Florence's hand.
"Thank you," she said. She had brought a small bag with her; she opened it and dropped the parcel into it. Her face looked worried; it had turned red when she saw Trevor: it was now very white.
He stood leaning up against the door of the waiting-room and contemplated her in astonishment.