It was not so easy for Miles to hide himself at Euston Station as Mrs. Sloane had seemed to imagine. He was one of those who show in a crowd, being bigger than most, and, according to his mother, handsomer. And he was a little reckless until he had seen the object of his search. Once he had seen Diana walk down the platform with her chin in the air, as was her habit, approved by her uncle, who thought she walked as a woman should walk, and as few did, he was more cautious, and dodged behind mountains of luggage, but never losing sight of the figure in blue tweed. She wore her hat well pulled down over her eyes, and he was glad. Once his he would want the whole world to see her, but till then he would have all men blind to her beauty. He bet himself five shillings she would buy “Blackwood” at the bookstall, and she bought it. Feeling himself the richer of five shillings—he held himself justified in giving it to the porter who was looking after her luggage: then he committed her to the care of the guard, and he asked nothing of the guard he was not ready to pay for. At the last moment he took possession of his sleeping-compartment within a few doors of Diana’s. Then he committed her into God’s safe keeping for the night—the guard on the train and God in Heaven; she must be safe. To the guard he had offered money—to God he offered the rest of his life if He would only give him Diana, to take care of—forever. Was it irreverent? Far from it, never in his life had he felt more humbly reverent.
Diana as she travelled thought how different it had been so short a time ago when she had travelled up with Uncle Marcus. Now there was nothing to look forward to and everything to dread. Shan’t might be dangerously ill! That she might not recover Diana would not have admitted even to herself. But there was the feeling underneath everything that life might not give her all she had asked of it. The thought was disquieting because she had asked of it only what she must have! Diana was young and she slept—although she had been certain she could not sleep—and she awoke in Scotland, and Scotland is Scotland and must not be denied. She demands, at least, that the traveller shall look out and wonder at her beauty. So Diana dressed and went out into the corridor and looked down into the glens, rushing past; on to the rowans, red with berries, and up to the torrents of water that streamed down the mountain-sides. Life, after all, could not cheat her. The morning sang aloud for very joy; not only the burns and the waterfalls, but everything sang.
Then she discovered she was hungry and she was certain she could never get a breakfast-basket. Arrived at the station, where these things are to be had, for those who have the forethought to order them, she looked out of the window, and the first thing she saw was Miles Hastings striding towards her—followed by a man carrying two breakfast-baskets.
“You!” she exclaimed. “How did you get here?”
“By train, just as you did,” he answered. “I knew your father wouldn’t like it if you didn’t have your breakfast properly. You see my duties don’t end when I land in England. Will you come to another carriage? It’s not very nice eating in a sleeping-berth, is it? Will you come? I have reserved a compartment. This most excellent man bears baps and bacon and eggs and marmalade and tea. Coming?”
Diana was already coming, curiosity, if nothing else, compelling her. How had he really come? She had little dreamed that all night he had been so close to her: that every time the train had stopped at a station he had mounted guard outside her door.
“Don’t talk until you have had breakfast,” he said; “then I want to talk to you very seriously—don’t look so adorable, because it upsets me. I never imagined any one could look so clean as you look after a journey.”
“And you have shaved, haven’t you?” she asked; and he laughed and said he wouldn’t be her father’s A.D.C. if he hadn’t. Then he assured her—“Shan’t is going to get quite well. I read up concussion, before I didn’t go to sleep last night. Don’t ask any questions! Never ask me to explain why I am here, because it cannot be explained except that there are more angels on this earth than even Heaven knows of. I always knew there was one—go on eating.”
Diana reminded him that angels did not eat, but in spite of that he begged her to have some more. She couldn’t eat two eggs? Had she ever tried? She couldn’t remember that she had. Not even after hunting? No? They were dull things to talk about, anyhow! Should he put the baskets under the seat? He put them under the seat.
“Now tell me?” he said.