’We shall write often to one another, and I will promise—­for I see it will set your mind at ease—­to tell you every worry I have.  Papa is’—­she started a little, a hardly visible start—­but Frederick felt the sudden motion of the hand he held, and turned his full face to the road, along which a horseman was slowly riding, just passing the very stile where they stood.  Margaret bowed; her bow was stiffly returned.

‘Who is that?’ said Frederick, almost before he was out of hearing.  Margaret was a little drooping, a little flushed, as she replied: 

‘Mr. Thornton; you saw him before, you know.’

’Only his back.  He is an unprepossessing-looking fellow.  What a scowl he has!’

‘Something has happened to vex him,’ said Margaret, apologetically.  ’You would not have thought him unprepossessing if you had seen him with mamma.’

’I fancy it must be time to go and take my ticket.  If I had known how dark it would be, we wouldn’t have sent back the cab, Margaret.’

’Oh, don’t fidget about that.  I can take a cab here, if I like; or go back by the rail-road, when I should have shops and people and lamps all the way from the Milton station-house.  Don’t think of me; take care of yourself.  I am sick with the thought that Leonards may be in the same train with you.  Look well into the carriage before you get in.’

They went back to the station.  Margaret insisted upon going into the full light of the flaring gas inside to take the ticket.  Some idle-looking young men were lounging about with the stationmaster.  Margaret thought she had seen the face of one of them before, and returned him a proud look of offended dignity for his somewhat impertinent stare of undisguised admiration.  She went hastily to her brother, who was standing outside, and took hold of his arm.  ’Have you got your bag?  Let us walk about here on the platform,’ said she, a little flurried at the idea of so soon being left alone, and her bravery oozing out rather faster than she liked to acknowledge even to herself.  She heard a step following them along the flags; it stopped when they stopped, looking out along the line and hearing the whizz of the coming train.  They did not speak; their hearts were too full.  Another moment, and the train would be here; a minute more, and he would be gone.  Margaret almost repented the urgency with which she had entreated him to go to London; it was throwing more chances of detection in his way.  If he had sailed for Spain by Liverpool, he might have been off in two or three hours.

Frederick turned round, right facing the lamp, where the gas darted up in vivid anticipation of the train.  A man in the dress of a railway porter started forward; a bad-looking man, who seemed to have drunk himself into a state of brutality, although his senses were in perfect order.

‘By your leave, miss!’ said he, pushing Margaret rudely on one side, and seizing Frederick by the collar.