before his college days had come to an end Philip had determined that
he would do his best, as soon as opportunity offered, to reduce his
cousin to his proper place, not by the violent means to which he had
resorted in other days, but rather by showing himself to be equally
capable, equally assiduous, and equally respectful and affectionate.

At last the day came when he was to bid farewell to Oxford for good,
and in due course he found himself in a second-class railway carriage
--thinking it useless to waste money, he always went second--and bound
for Roxham.

Just before the train left the platform at Paddington, Philip was
agreeably surprised out of his meditations by the entry into his
carriage of an extremely elegant and stately young lady, a foreigner
as he judged from her strong accent when she addressed the porter.
With the innate gallantry of twenty-one, he immediately laid himself
out to make the acquaintance of one possessed of such proud, yet
melting blue eyes, such lovely hair, and a figure that would not have
disgraced Diana; and, with this view, set himself to render her such
little services as one fellow-traveller can offer to another. They
were accepted reservedly at first, then gratefully, and before long
the reserve broke down entirely, and this very handsome pair dropped
into a conversation as animated as the lady's broken English would
allow. The lady told him that her name was Hilda von Holtzhausen, that
she was of a German family, and had come to England to enter a family
as companion, in order to obtain a perfect knowledge of the English
language. She had already been to France and acquired French; when she
knew English, then she had been promised a place as school-mistress
under government in her own country. Her father and mother were dead,
and she had no brothers or sisters, and very few friends.