"It was very kind of you, I'm sure, Phil," she said, very soberly, "but I should so much rather you had not thought of that. A shilling would have done just as well and they would have got a bed at the Bull's Head, and been quite kindly treated. Is this your train coming? It's a little too soon, I think." "Thanks for the compliment, Nell. It is really late," he said, looking at his watch, "but the time flies, don't it, pet, when you and I are together? Here, you fellow, put my bag in a smoking carriage. And now, you darling, we've got to part; only for a little time, Nell." "Only for a week," she said, with a smile and a tear. "Not so long--a rush along the rail, a blow on the sea, and then back again; I shall only be a day over there, and then--bless you, Nell. Good-bye--take care of yourself, my little duck: take care of yourself for me." "Good-bye," said Elinor, with a little quiver of her lip. A parting at a roadside station is a very abrupt affair. The train stops, the passenger is shoved in, there is a clanging of the doors, and in a moment it is gone. She had scarcely realized that the hour had come before he was whirled off from her, and the swinging line of carriages disappeared round the next curve. She stood looking vaguely after it till the old porter came up, who had known her ever since she was a child. "Beg your pardon, miss, but the pony is a-waiting," he said. And then he uttered his sympathy in the form of a question:--"Coming back very soon, miss, ain't the gentleman?" he said. "Oh, yes; very soon," she said, rousing herself up. "And if I may make bold to say it, miss," said the porter, "an open-hearted gentleman as ever I see. There's many as gives us a threepenny for more than I've done for 'im. And look at what he's give me," he said, showing the half-crown in his hand. Did he do that from calculation to please her, ungracious girl as she was, who was so hard to please? But he never could have known that she would see it. She walked through the little station to the pony carriage, feeling that all the eyes of the people about were upon her. They were all sympathetic, all equally aware that she had just parted with her lover: all ready to cheer her, if she had given them an opportunity, by reminding her of his early return. The old porter followed her out, and assisted at her ascent into the pony carriage. He said, solemnly, "And an 'andsome gentleman, miss, as ever I see," as he fastened the apron over her feet. She gave him a friendly nod as she drove away.