Hornung Ernest William - A Bride from the Bush стр 34.

It was their first parting.

He had got her a compartment to herself, but only at her earnest insistence;

he had spoken for a carriage full of people, or the one reserved for ladies anything but solitary confinement. It was the Cambridge train; there were few stoppages and no changes.

Gladys was ensconced in her corner. For the moment, her husband sat facing her. Four minutes were left them.

You have a Don in the next carriage to you; an ancient and wonderfully amiable one, I should say, observed Alfred, with a sickly attempt at levity. I wish you were under his wing, my dear!

Gladys made a respondent effort, an infinitely harder one. No, thanks, she said; not me !

Come, I say! Is it nervousness or vanity?

It is neither.

Yet you look nervous, Gladdie, joking apart and, honestly, I never felt less like joking in my life. And you are pale, my darling; and your hand is so cold!

She withdrew the hand.

But one more minute was left. Better get out, sir, said the guard, and Ill lock the lady in.

Gladys felt a shiver pass through her entire frame. With a supreme effort she controlled herself. They kissed and clasped hands. Then Alfred stepped down heavily on to the platform.

The minute was a long one; these minutes always are. It was an age in passing, a flash to look back upon. These minutes are among the strangest accomplishments of the sorcerer Time.

It is dreadful to let you go alone, darling, like this, he said, standing on the foot-board and leaning in. At least you ought to have had Bunn with you. You might have given way in that, Gladdie.

No, she whispered tremulously; I I like going alone.

You must write at once, Gladdie.

To-morrow; but you could only get it latish on Monday.

The bell was ringing. You know the clangour of a station bell; of all sounds the last that it resembles is that of the funeral knell; yet this was its echo in the heart of Gladys.

Well, its only for a week, after all, isnt it, Gladdie? It will be the weariest week of my life, I know. But I shant mind after all, its my own doing if only you come back with a better colour. You have been so pale, Gladdie, these last few days pale and excitable. But its only a week, my darling, eh?

She could not answer.

The guard blew his whistle. There was an end of the minute at last.

Stand back, she whispered: her voice was stifled with tears.

Back? Alfred peered up into her face, and a sudden pallor spread upon his own with your dear eyes full of tears, where I never yet saw tears before? Back? God forgive me for thinking of it, Ill come with you yet!

He made as though to dive headlong through the window; but, looking him full in the eyes through her tears, his girl-wife laid a strong hand on each of his shoulders and forced him back. He staggered as the platform came under his feet. The train was already moving. He stood and gazed.

Gladys was waving to him, and smiling through her tears. So she continued until she could see him no more. Then she fell back upon the cushions, and, for a time, consciousness left her.

It was their first parting.

CHAPTER XVI TRACES

But the miserable feeling returned if, indeed, it had ever been chased fairly away; and it returned with such force that Alfred was obliged to own at last that it, too, was exaggerated and out of all proportion to the exciting cause. He, in his turn, was sentimentalising as though Gladys had gone for a term of years. He was conscious of this; but he could not help it. His thoughts seemed bound to the parting of this Saturday, powerless to fly forward to the reunion of the next. A vague, dim sense of finality was the restraining bond; but this

sense was not long to remain dim or vague. Meanwhile, so far as Alfred was concerned, the Sunday that followed was wrapped in a gloom that not even the genial presence of the distinguished (but jocular) guest could in any way pierce or dissipate. Nevertheless, it contained the last tranquil moments that Alfred was to know at that period of his life; for it led him to the verge of an ordeal such as few men are called upon to undergo.

He was not a little surprised on the Monday morning to find among the letters by the first post one addressed to his wife. She had received scarcely any letters since her arrival in England two or three from tradesmen, an invitation or so, nothing from Australia; but this letter was directed in a large, bold hand, with which Alfred fancied he was not wholly unfamiliar; and he suddenly remembered that he had seen it before in Miss Barringtons note of invitation. Now, the post-mark bore the name of the town to which Gladys had booked from Liverpool Street, and the date of the day before; and how could Miss Barrington write to Gladys at Twickenham, when Gladys was staying with Miss Barrington in Suffolk?

He tore open the envelope, and his hand shook as he did so. When he had read to the end of the letter, which was very short, his face was gray and ghastly; his eyes were wild and staring; he sank helplessly into a chair. The note ran thus: