“I’m sorry ye were forced to come on with the cars; it’s another added to all the good deeds you’ve done by me.”  He had found a tongue now in which he could be gracious.

“Oh, I shall soon get back,” said Alec.

“I suppose ye’ve seen”—­with attempted coolness—­“that my young friend here, Eliza Cameron, is going back with me.”

“So I see.”  If his life had depended upon it, Alec could not have refrained from a smile which he felt might be offensive, but it passed unseen.

“When she saw ye out here, she asked me just to step out, for perhaps ye’d be so kind as to take a message to a young lady she has a great caring for—­a Miss Rexford, as I understand.”

“All right.”  Alec looked at the rails flying behind them, and stroked his yellow moustache, and sighed in spite of himself.

“I’d like ye to tell Miss Rexford from me that we intend to be married to-morrow—­in the city of Quebec; but Sissy, she would like ye to say that she’d have gone to say good-bye if she’d known her own mind sooner, and that she prefairred to come” (he rolled the r in this “preferred” with emphasis not too obvious) “—­ye understand?”—­this last a little sharply, as if afraid that the word might be challenged.

Still looking upon the flying track, Alec nodded to show that he challenged nothing.

“And she wishes it to be said,” continued the stiff, formal Scot (there was a consequential air about him now that was almost insufferable), “that for all I’ve the intention in my mind to spend my life in the old place, she thinks she’ll very likely break me of it, and bring me to live in more frequented parts in a year or two, when she’ll hope to come and see her friends again.  ’Tis what she says, Mr. Trenholme” (and Alec knew, from his tone, that Bates, even in speaking to him, had smiled again that gloriously happy smile), “and of course I humour her by giving her words.  As to how that will be, I can’t say, but”—­with condescension—­“ye’d be surprised, Mr. Trenholme, at the hold a woman can get on a man.”

“Really—­yes, I suppose so,” Alec muttered inanely; but within he laid control on himself, lest he should kick this man.  Surely it would only make the scales of fortune balance if Bates should have a few of his limbs broken to pay for his luxury!

Alec turned, throwing a trifle of patronage into his farewell.  Nature had turned him out such a good-looking fellow that he might have spared the other, but he was not conscious of his good looks just then.

“Well, Bates, upon my word I wish you joy.  It’s certainly a relief to me to think you will have someone to look after that cough of yours, and see after you a bit when you have the asthma.  I didn’t think you’d get through this winter alone, ’pon my word, I didn’t; but I hope that—­Mrs. Bates will take good care of you.”

It was only less brutal to hurl the man’s weakness at him than it would have been to hurl him off the train.  Yet Alec did it, then jumped from the car when the speed lessened.