s, blind to everything but the
image of her face, which was always with him, and oftenest as it had
bent over him that last evening, with the strange new fire in its eyes.
Closing his own, he felt again her arms on his shoulders, her lips
meeting his, and, at such moments, it could happen that he threw his
arms round a tree, in an ungovernable rush of longing. Beyond the
moment when he should clasp her to him again, he could not see: the
future was as indistinct as were the Saxon plains, in the haze of
morning or evening.

He set out to meet her far too early in the day, and when he had
covered the couple of miles that lay between the inn on the hill and
the railway-station at the foot, he was obliged to loiter about the
sleepy little town for over an hour. But gradually the time ticked
away; the hands of his watch pointed to a quarter to two, and presently
he found himself on the shadeless, sandy station which lay at the end
of a long, sandy street, edged with two rows of young and shadeless
trees; found himself looking along the line of rail that was to bring
her to him. Would the signal never go up? He began to feel, in spite of
the strong July sunlight, that there was something illusive about the
whole thing. Or perhaps it was just this harsh, crude light, without
relieving shadows, which made his surroundings seem unreal to him.
However it was, the nearer the moment came when he would see her again,
the more improbable it seemed that the train, which was even now
overdue, should actually be carrying her towards him--her to him! He
would yet waken, with a shock. But then, coming round a corner in the
distance, at the side of a hill, he saw the train. At first it appeared
to remain stationary, then it increased in size, approached, made a
slight curve, and was a snaky line; it vanished, and reappeared,
leaving first a white trail of cloud, then thick rounded puffs of
cloud, until it was actually there, a great black object, with a creak
and a rattle.

He had planted himself at the extreme end of the platform, and the
carriages went past him. He hastened, almost running, along the train.
At the opposite end, a door was opened, the porter took out some bags,
and Louise stepped down, and turned to look for him. He was the only
person on the station, besides the two officials, and in passing she
had caught a glimpse of his face. If he looks like that, every one will
know, she thought to herself, and her first words, as