The bench was at the very end of the platform. She loved the seat because it commanded an extensive view of the surrounding country. Beyond the Huntsdean downs she could see other hills lying far away, softly outlined against the summer evening sky. And nearer lay the dearer old meadows and homesteads and the long tracts of woodland,--all familiar and beloved scenes to the girl who had been born and bred among them. The air was very still; even here it was but a faint breath of wind that fanned her flushed cheeks; but the coolness on these highlands was delightful after the closeness of the vale. She sat and enjoyed it in silence. Quite suddenly the sound of voices broke the stillness. The speakers were hidden from Nelly's gaze, for the tones came from the other side of the laurel hedge. Eve Hazleburn's accents, clear and musical, could be recognised in a moment. "I am going away next week," she said, "going back to Warwickshire, Mr. Foster, I wrote to Mr. Lindley, the good Vicar of C----, and he has found a place for me. I am to be companion to an invalid lady whose house is close to the street where your father and mother live. They will be glad to have me near them again." She spoke rapidly, and a little louder than usual. Nelly, overwhelmed with astonishment, sat still, without giving a thought to her position as an eavesdropper. "I have kept away from you--I have tried not to think of you!" cried Morgan Foster, in irrepressible anguish. "God does not help me in this matter. I have prayed, worked, struggled, yet I get no relief. What shall I do, Eve--what shall I do?" [Illustration: Eve Hazleburn and Morgan Foster.--Page 194.] "You must endure to the end," she answered, with a little sob. "God will make it easier by-and-by. Oh, I was so sorry to come here, Mr. Foster; but I could not help it! We will never meet again, you and I. Yet I am glad that I know Miss Channell. I will go and tell the old people what a sweet bright girl she is; and they will soon learn to love her. It will all come right in the end." "Ah, if I could believe that!" said the curate. "But I can't. It is madness to think that a wrong path can have a right ending. Sometimes I am persuaded it would be best to tell her everything." "If you did," cried Eve, sternly, "you would break her heart. And don't think--pray don't think, Mr. Foster, that I would build my house on the ruins of another woman's happiness! When I am gone," and the proud voice trembled, "you will learn to submit to circumstances. We are not likely to cross each other's paths again; you will be a rich man----" "Oh, the money makes it all the harder to bear!" interrupted Morgan, bitterly. "That three thousand pounds that Mr. Myrtle promised to leave to you has been left to her. Did you know this?"