“But, Jim, is there nothing in the world to think about but this?”
“There is nothing so important. Are we to be dumb all our lives about what you say is religion?”
They separated and soon afterwards the engagement was broken off. Jim had really loved Elizabeth, but at that time he was furious against what he called “creeds.” He waited for three or four years till he had secured a fair practice, and then married a clever and handsome young woman who wrote poems, and had captivated him by telling him a witty story from Heine. Elizabeth never married.
Thirty years passed, and Jim, now a famous physician, had to go a long distance down the Great Western Railway to attend a consultation. At Bath an elderly lady entered the carriage carrying a handbag with the initials “E. C.” upon it. She sat in the seat farthest away from him on the opposite side, and looked at him steadfastly. He also looked at her, but no word was spoken for a minute. He then crossed over, fell on his knees, and buried his head with passionate sobbing on her knees. She put her hands on him and her tears fell.
“Five years,” at last he said; “I may live five years with care. She has left me. I will give up everything and go abroad with you. Five years; it is not much, but it will be something, everything. I shall die with your face over me.”
The train was slackening speed for Bristol; she bent down and kissed him.
“Dearest Jim,” she whispered, “I have waited a long time, but I was sure we should come together again at last. It is enough.”
“You will go with me, then?”
Again she kissed him. “It must not be.”
Before he could reply the train was stopping at the platform, and a gentleman with a lady appeared at the door. Miss Castleton stepped out and was at once driven away in a carriage with her companions.