He spoke in what may be called general words, in a general tone, but it was impossible for Sara to misunderstand him. Every pulse within her beat in answer, quietly as she continued to walk, calmly as her eyes rested straight before her. She knew it was his intention not to speak openly, until he could speak to some purpose: and she thought he was right.
"So I resolved to continue where I am, and plod on diligently," he continued. "Advancement, though more slow, will be sure. Do you think I did right?"
"Quite right, quite right," she murmured. And, had they been speaking without reserve to each other, she might have added, "Papa would not like me to go abroad."
A silence ensued. They paced together in that quiet spot away from the busy crowd, the silvery moonlight above, the pure passion of love's first dream filling their hearts within. No need of words: the conscious presence of each was all in all.
"Where can this train be?" exclaimed Oswald at length, breaking the charm of the silence.
Almost as the words left his lips one of the porters came hurriedly up, touching his hat as he spoke.
"There has been a mistake in the telegraph-room, sir. Leastways, some bungle. The train was telegraphed from Hildon."
A moment's startled pause on the part of Oswald Cray.
"It was told to me positively that the train had not left, Parker?"
"I know, sir; we all understood it so. But James Eales is come back now, and he says we misunderstood him; that the train was telegraphed at the proper time. There's an accident, sir, for certain; and it's between this and Hildon."