dropped into a reverie. I was roused from it by the sudden ceasing of
the fierce oscillation, which had for some time been threatening to
make a jelly of us. We were loose. In three minutes more we should be
at Purleybridge.

And in three minutes more, we were at Purleybridge--the only
passengers but one who arrived at the station that night. A servant
was waiting for me, and I followed him through the booking-office to
the carriage destined to bear me to _The Swanspond_, as my friend
Colonel Cathcart's house was called.

As I stepped into the carriage, I saw the clergyman walk by, with his
carpet-bag in his hand.

Now I knew Colonel Cathcart intimately enough to offer the use of his
carriage to my late companion; but at the moment I was about to
address him, the third passenger, of whom I had taken no particular
notice, came between us, and followed me into the carriage. This
occasioned a certain hesitation, with which I am only too easily
affected; the footman shut the door; I caught one glimpse of the
clergyman turning the corner of the station into a field-path; the
horses made a scramble; and away I rode to the Swanspond, feeling as
selfish as ten Pharisees. It is true, I had not spoken a word to him
beyond accepting his invitation to smoke with him; and yet I felt
almost sure that we should meet again, and that when we did, we should
both be glad of it. And now he was carrying a carpet-bag, and I was
seated in a carriage and pair!

It was far too dark for me to see what my new companion was like; but
when the light from the colonel's hall-door flashed upon us as we drew