The Survivor | Page 6

were you, if I were a man, I
would not hesitate for a moment."
His hand fell upon her shoulder. He pointed downwards.
"How far am I bound," he asked hoarsely, "to do your father's
bidding?"
The glow passed from her cheeks. She moved imperceptibly away from
him.
"Douglas," she said, "it is of that I came to speak to you to-night. You
know that I have a brother who is eternally banished from home, whose
life I honestly believe my father's severity has ruined. I saw him in
London not long ago, and he sent a message to you. It is very painful
for me to even think of it, Douglas, for I always believed my father to
be a just man. He has let you believe that you were a pauper. My
brother told me that it was not true--that there was plenty of money for
your education, and that there should be some to come to you. There, I
have told you! You must go to my father and ask him for the truth!"
He was silent for a moment. It was a strange thing to hear.
"If this is true," he said, "it is freedom."
"Freedom," she repeated, and glided away from him whilst he stood
there dreaming.
CHAPTER III
THE MAN WHO WAS IN A HURRY
He lay back in a corner seat of the carriage, panting, white-faced,
exhausted. His clumsy boots, studded with nails, were wet, and his
frayed black trousers were splashed with mud. In his eyes was the light
of vivid fear, his delicate mouth was twitching still with excitement. In
his ears there rang yet the angry cry of the guard, the shouting of
porters, the excitement of that leap through the hastily-opened carriage

door tingled yet in his veins. Before his eyes there was a mist. He was
conscious indeed that the carriage which he had marked out as being
empty was tenanted by a single person, but he had not even glanced
across towards the occupied seat. What mattered it so long as they were
off? Already the fields seemed flying past the window, and the
telegraph posts had commenced their frantic race. Ten, twenty, forty
miles an hour at least-off on that wonderful run, the pride of the
directors and the despair of rival companies. Nothing could stop them
now. All slower traffic stood aside to let them pass, the express with
her two great engines vomiting fire and smoke, crawling across the
map, flying across bridges and through tunnels from the heart of the
country to the great city. Gradually, and with the exhilaration of their
ever increasing speed, the courage of the man revived, and the blood
flowed once more warmly through his veins. He lifted his head and
looked around him.
Shock the first came when he realised that he was in a first-class
carriage; shock the second, when he saw that his solitary companion
was a lady. He took in the details of her appearance and
surroundings--wonderful enough to him who had been brought up in a
cottage, and to whom the ways and resources of luxury were all
unknown. Every seat save the one which he occupied was covered with
her belongings. On one was a half-opened dressing-case filled with
gold-topped bottles and emitting a faint, delicate perfume. On another
was a pile of books and magazines, opposite to him a sable-lined coat,
by his side a luncheon basket and long hunting flask. Then his eyes
were caught by an oblong strip of paper pasted across the carriage
window--he read it backwards--"Engaged." What an intrusion! He
looked towards the woman with stammering words of apology upon his
lips--but the words died away. He was tongue-tied.
He had met the languid gaze of her dark, full eyes, a little supercilious,
a little amused, faintly curious, and his own fell at once before their
calm insolence. She was handsomely dressed. The delicate, white hand
which held her novel was ablaze with many and wonderful rings. She
was evidently tall, without doubt stately. Her black hair, parted in the
middle, drooped a little to the side by her ears, her complexion,

delightfully clear, was of a curious ivory pallor unassociated with
ill-health. She regarded him through a pair of ivory-handled lorgnettes,
which she carelessly closed as he looked towards her.
"Will you tell me," she asked quietly, "why you have entered my
carriage which is engaged--and in such an extraordinary manner?"
He drew a little breath. He had never heard a voice like it before--soft,
musical, and with the slightest suggestion of a foreign accent. Then he
remembered that she was waiting for an answer. He began his apology.
"I am sorry--indeed I am very sorry. I had no time to look inside, and I
thought it was