A silence ensued. They paced together in that quiet spot away from the busy crowd, the silvery moonlight above, the pure passion of love's first dream filling their hearts within. No need of words: the conscious presence of each was all in all. "Where can this train be?" exclaimed Oswald at length, breaking the charm of the silence. Almost as the words left his lips one of the porters came hurriedly up, touching his hat as he spoke. "There has been a mistake in the telegraph-room, sir. Leastways, some bungle. The train _was_ telegraphed from Hildon." A moment's startled pause on the part of Oswald Cray. "It was told to me positively that the train had not left, Parker?" "I know, sir; we all understood it so. But James Eales is come back now, and he says we misunderstood him; that the train was telegraphed at the proper time. There's an accident, sir, for certain; and it's between this and Hildon." "I think there must be a mistake," murmured Oswald Cray to Sara. "Stay here quietly, away from the crowd." Giving no further satisfaction to her fears--indeed he could not give it--he walked hastily to the small room used as the telegraph office. The news which the porter had brought to him was spreading elsewhere, and the entrance to it was blocked up with an eager throng. He began to work his way through. "By your leave, by your leave, good people." And they drew aside so as to give room for him to pass when they saw who it was. Mr. Oswald Cray's right of authority, as being superior to that of any at the station, was known and recognised.