The person to whom she spoke, and who was apparently her husband or her brother, took down the black bag from the rack hastily, and got out the sal volatile, as my friend directed him.  He poured a little into a tumbler and held it quietly to my lips.  I liked his manner, as I’d liked the lady’s.  He was so very brotherly.  Besides, there was something extremely soothing about his quick, noiseless way.  He did it all so fast, yet without the faintest sign of agitation.  I couldn’t help thinking what a good nurse he would make; he was so rapid and effective, yet so gentle and so quiet.  He seemed perfectly accustomed to the ways of nervous women.

I dried my eyes after a while, and looked up in his face.  He was very good-looking, and had a charming soft smile.  How lucky I should have tumbled upon such pleasant travelling companions!  In my present mental state, I had need of sympathy.  And, indeed, they took as much care of me, and coddled me up as tenderly, as if they’d known me for years.  I was almost tempted to make a clean breast of my personality to them, and tell them why it was I had been so worried and upset by my reception at Quebec:  but I shrank from confessing it.  I hated my own name, almost, it seemed to bring me such very unpleasant notoriety.

In a very few minutes, I felt quite at home with my new friends.  I explained to them that when I landed I had no intention of going on West by train at once, but that news which I received on the way had compelled me to push forward by the very first chance; and that I had to change my ticket at a place called Sharbot Lake, whose very position or distance I hadn’t had time to discover.  The lady smiled sweetly, and calmed my fears by telling me we wouldn’t reach Sharbot Lake till mid-day to-morrow, and that I would have plenty of time there to book on to my destination.

Thus encouraged, I went on to tell them I had no Canadian money, having brought out what I needed for travelling expenses and hotels in Bank of England 20 pound notes.  The lady smiled again, and said in the friendliest way: 

“Oh, my brother’ll get them changed for you at Montreal as we pass, won’t you, Jack? or at least as much as you need till you get to”—­she checked herself—­“the end of your journey.”

I noticed how she pulled herself up, though at the moment I attached no particular importance to it.

So he was her brother, not her husband, then!  Well, he was a very nice fellow, either way, and nobody could be kinder or more sympathetic than he’d been to me so far.

We fell into conversation, which soon by degrees grew quite intimate.

“How far West are you going?” the man she called Jack asked after a little time, tentatively.

And I answered, all unsuspiciously: 

“To a place called Palmyra.”

“Why, we live not far from Palmyra,” the sister replied, with a smile.  “We’re going that way now.  Our station’s Adolphus Town, the very next village.”