“Won’t you?”
She shook her head. There wasn’t time—it would take years—the train was going—it was off—Miles was left on the platform.
Then Diana looked out of the carriage window, smiled at him, and drew back—and with one stride Miles was on the step of the guard’s van—
Having made friends with the guard, which was not difficult, he sat down to write to Mrs. Sloane. He sat on a stout wooden box, which, according to the label, belonged to one Christina MacDonald. He hoped Christina was as happy as he was. She must be: perhaps she had gone from London and was going home. From London to Scotland. Happy Christina! Perhaps she was going home to be married! Dear Christina! He loved her, as he loved every one in the world that morning. But he must write his letter: he wrote:
“I am in the guard’s van. The circumstances proved quite exceptional—I did not make them so—and the separation was more than I could bear. Now that I am near her I am absurdly happy, because I believe she is a little unhappy because—she thinks—I am not near her. I saw her into this train, as I promised, and just as the train was going out of the station she popped her beautiful little head out of the window and smiled at me—I thought I saw tears in her eyes! Do I stand exonerated? How can I thank you? I shall never be able to. There is so much I want to say and I am too shy to say it. Why need I say anything to you who understand everything? But I feel in honour bound to explain to you why I am in the guard’s van—you must have known I should be there! As a boy I thought it the best place on the train—now I know one better!”
XXIII
God made both joy and sorrow—
Tears for to-day, smiles for to-morrow.
Shan’t opened her eyes. She opened them just as naturally as she used to open them every morning of her life.
She looked first at Marcus, then at Elsie. Then she looked at his hand on hers, then at Aunt Elsie’s hand on hers, and she smiled.