I fully expected we should get an influx of companions here, for the platform was crowded, but my carriage door was locked and I noticed the guard hovering near; he seemed particularly anxious to direct people elsewhere. Perhaps he thought that as I was an unprotected female I should prefer to be quite alone, and I was busy concocting a little speech about "a gentleman coming back," in case he should refuse to let my actor come into the carriage. It was quite unnecessary, however, as directly he caught sight of him in the distance he opened the door with an obsequious bow. I began to wonder if he knew him. Perhaps he was a celebrated actor, and when actors are celebrated nowadays they are celebrated indeed. I felt quite elated at having anything to do with a member of such a fashionable profession, and looked at him with more interest than ever. I was dreadfully sorry when we reached Carlisle, for there my journey ended--for that day at least. I was to spend the night with a maiden aunt, living near Carlisle, and go on to Inverness the next morning. The station came in sight only too soon. My companion had been telling me some mountaineering experiences which had been called to his mind by the scenery we had been passing through, and the train pulled up in the middle of a most exciting story. I had to leave him clinging to a bare wall of rock in a blinding snowstorm, while I went off to spend the night with my Aunt Maria. There was no help for it. My aunt, a thin, quaint old lady, stood waiting on the platform. She wore a huge coalscuttle bonnet, which in these days of smaller head coverings looked strange and out of proportion, a short imitation sealskin jacket, and a perfectly plain skirt, which exposed her slender build in the most uncompromising (or perhaps I ought to say compromising) fashion. I recognised her at once, and felt secretly ashamed of my poor relation. It was horrid of me, and I hated myself for it; but at that moment I really did feel ashamed of her appearance, and actually comforted myself with the thought that my companion had seen my fashionable and befrilled sister at Euston. I was pleased to find that he was as sorry to part as I was. He broke off his story with an exclamation of disgust. "I thought you said you were going to Scotland," he cried. "So I am," I answered; "but not till to-morrow." Here Aunt Maria came forward. I had to get out and be folded in the embrace of two bony arms. My companion (I had not found out his name) had, in the meantime, put my bag and my bundles upon the platform, and was standing, cap in hand, bowing a farewell.