"No; I think I will not go in there. It is not pretty. You may send me a cup of tea. I will sit here and enjoy this beautiful valley scene. And oh, Fabian! Look there, coming up the hillside, what a beautiful woman!" Mr. Fabian looked out and saw and recognized Rose Stillwater and saw that she had recognized him. She was coming directly toward the train. "Sit here, my love; I will go and bring you some refreshments. Don't attempt to get out, dearest; to do so might be dangerous. I will not be long," he said, hastily, and rising, he hurried after the other passengers out of the car. But instead of going into the railway restaurant he went back to the rear of the train, placed himself where he stood out of sight of his wife and of all his fellow passengers, yet in full view of the approaching woman. "What devil brings that serpent here?" he muttered to himself. "I must intercept her. She must not go on board the train. She must not approach my little wood violet. Good heavens, no!" But the woman turned aside voluntarily from her course to the stationary train and walked directly toward himself. "Well, Rose," he said, in as pleasant a voice as his perturbation of mind would permit him to use. "Well, Fabian," she answered. She was as white and hard as marble; her lips when she ceased to speak were closed tightly, her blue eyes blazed from her hard, white face. "What brings you here?" he inquired. "What brings me here, indeed! To see you. Only this morning I heard of your intended business. Only this morning, after the morning train had left. If there had been another train within an hour or two, I should have taken it and gone to the city and should have been in time to stop the wicked wedding." "What a blessing that there was not! You could not have stopped the marriage. You would only have exposed yourself and made a row." "Then I should have done that." "I don't think so. It would not have been like you. You are too cool, too politic to ruin yourself. Come, Rose," looking at his watch, "there are but just sixteen minutes before the train starts. I have just fifteen to give you, because it will take me one minute to reach my seat. Therefore, whatever you have to say, my dear, had better be said at once." "I have not come here to reproach you, Fabian Rockharrt," she said, fixing him with her eyes. "That is kind of you at all events." "No; we reproach a man for carelessness, for thoughtlessness, for forgetfulness; but for baseness, villainy, treachery like yours it is not reproach, it is--" "Magnanimity or murder! I suppose so. Let it be magnanimity, Rose. I have never done you anything but good since I first met your face, now twenty years ago. You were but sixteen then. You are thirty-six now, and, by Jove! handsomer than ever." "Thank you; I quite well know that I am. My looking glass, that never flatters, tells me so."