Upon which the gentleman, instead of making any such reply as might have been expected, exclaimed, "Lord bless my soul!" and leaving his place at the other extremity of the carriage, he came and seated himself opposite to her. "It _is_ Miss Cheffington!" he said, in a tone of the utmost wonder. And then May recognized Mr. Bragg. "My dear young lady, how come you to be travelling alone--by this train? Is anything the matter?" His tone was so sincere and earnest, his face and manner so gentle and fatherly, that May at once felt she could trust him fully and fearlessly. "I am so glad it's you, Mr. Bragg, and not a stranger!" she said, putting her hand out to take his. "Thank you," said Mr. Bragg simply. "I'm glad it _is_ me, if I can be of any use to you." Then he asked again, "Is anything the matter?" "N--no; nothing very serious. I have run away from Aunt Pauline----" "Run away!" "And I'm going to Granny. You won't feel it your duty to give me up as a fugitive from justice, will you?" she said, trying to smile, with very tremulous lips. "Mrs. Dormer-Smith has never been treating you bad or cruel?" said Mr. Bragg wonderingly. "No, no; she _couldn't_." "No, truly, she could not be consciously cruel to me, or to any one; but she has ideas which--she tried to persuade me----We don't understand one another, that's the truth." Mr. Bragg all at once remembered a certain private note despatched to his hotel in town by Mrs. Dormer-Smith, wherein she had assured him that May was an inexperienced child, who didn't know her own mind, and begged him not to take her too absolutely at her word. He had never replied to that note, having, indeed, nothing to say which it would be agreeable to his correspondent to hear. But he recalled other instances in which ladies of the highest gentility had hunted him (or, rather, not _him_--he had no illusions of vanity on that point--but his large fortune) with a ruthless unscrupulosity which had amazed him, and a gallant perseverance in the teeth of discouragement which almost extorted admiration. And the question stole into his mind, "Could Mrs. Dormer-Smith have been persecuting May on _his_ account?" The idea was inexpressibly painful to him. But, anyway, he was relieved and thankful to find that the girl did not shrink from him, but was sweet and gracious as ever. "Well, to be sure," he said in his slow, pondering way, "'tis a strange chance that we should meet just now, isn't it? For I've just come from your family place, you know." "From where?" "From the home of your ancestors, as Mr. Theodore Bransby calls it. You asked me the name of that station I got in at. Well, it's Combe St. Mildred's, the station for Combe Park you know." "Is it? Then we cannot be far from Oldchester."