"I feel I must to steady myself," she replied. "I did not know I was so much frightened and shaken. I feel ashamed."
They walked on in silence for a few yards, and then Wilton asked if she was going much farther.
"Yes," with a sigh, "a long way—over the Border to a place called Monkscleugh."
"Indeed!" cried Wilton; "that is my destination also."
She made no reply, and they accomplished the short distance in silence, save for a few friendly remarks and inquiries from Wilton. The station was almost deserted when they reached it; but the gaslight and a good fire were very welcome; and the station-master soon returned with the intelligence that they had collected more men, who were working hard to clear the line, and, that, as soon as it was passable, a fresh train would be sent on from A——.
The station-master was a short man—broad without being stout—with a peculiarly weather-beaten aspect, his mouth screwed to one side, and one eye squeezed down to the other, as if in the habit of facing the sun's glare without adequate shelter. He spoke, too, in a staccato style, as if some intermittent power pumped up his words.
"I dare say this lady would be glad of a cup of tea or something," said Wilton, looking compassionately at the figure of his companion, who had drawn a chair to the fire, and sat down wearily, putting a small, well-booted foot upon the fender.
"I have sent up to the village for refreshments, sir; but I am sorry to say I have nothing in the place. I generally go away for my meals."
So saying, the station-master hurried off.