Each to the loved ones side.
The friends and rivals breakfasted together the next morning.Not a word was said on either side upon the matter discussed the previous evening so glibly and so hollowly.Stephen was absorbed the greater part of the time in wishing he were not forced to stay in town yet another day.
I dont intend to leave for St.Launces till to-morrow,as you know,he said to Knight at the end of the meal.What are you going to do with yourself to-day?
I have an engagement just before ten,said Knight deliberately;and after that time I must call upon two or three people.
Ill look for you this evening,said Stephen.
Yes,do.You may as well come and dine with me;that is,if we can meet.I may not sleep in London to-night;in fact,I am absolutely unsettled as to my movements yet.However,the first thing I am going to do is to get my baggage shifted from this place to Bedes Inn.Good-bye for the present.Ill write,you know,if I cant meet you.
It now wanted a quarter to nine oclock.When Knight was gone,Stephen felt yet more impatient of the circumstance that another day would have to drag itself away wearily before he could set out for that spot of earth whereon a soft thought of him might perhaps be nourished still.On a sudden he admitted to his mind the possibility that the engagement he was waiting in town to keep might be postponed without much harm.
It was no sooner perceived than attempted.Looking at his watch,he found it wanted forty minutes to the departure of the ten oclock train from Paddington,which left him a surplus quarter of an hour before it would be necessary to start for the station.
Scribbling a hasty note or two--one putting off the business meeting,another to Knight apologizing for not being able to see him in the evening--paying his bill,and leaving his heavier luggage to follow him by goods-train,he jumped into a cab and rattled off to the Great Western Station.
Shortly afterwards he took his seat in the railway carriage.
The guard paused on his whistle,to let into the next compartment to Smiths a man of whom Stephen had caught but a hasty glimpse as he ran across the platform at the last moment.
Smith sank back into the carriage,stilled by perplexity.The man was like Knight--astonishingly like him.Was it possible it could be he?To have got there he must have driven like the wind to Bedes Inn,and hardly have alighted before starting again.No,it could not be he;that was not his way of doing things.
During the early part of the journey Stephen Smiths thoughts busied themselves till his brain seemed swollen.One subject was concerning his own approaching actions.He was a day earlier than his letter to his parents had stated,and his arrangement with them had been that they should meet him at Plymouth;a plan which pleased the worthy couple beyond expression.Once before the same engagement had been made,which he had then quashed by ante-dating his arrival.This time he would go right on to Castle Boterel;ramble in that well-known neighbourhood during the evening and next morning,making inquiries;and return to Plymouth to meet them as arranged--a contrivance which would leave their cherished project undisturbed,relieving his own impatience also.
At Chippenham there was a little waiting,and some loosening and attaching of carriages.
Stephen looked out.At the same moment another mans head emerged from the adjoining window.Each looked in the others face.
Knight and Stephen confronted one another.
You here!said the younger man.
Yes.It seems that you are too,said Knight,strangely.
Yes.
The selfishness of love and the cruelty of jealousy were fairly exemplified at this moment.Each of the two men looked at his friend as he had never looked at him before.Each was TROUBLED at the others presence.
I thought you said you were not coming till to-morrow,remarked Knight.
I did.It was an afterthought to come to-day.This journey was your engagement,then?
No,it was not.This is an afterthought of mine too.I left a note to explain it,and account for my not being able to meet you this evening as we arranged.
So did I for you.
You dont look well:you did not this morning.
I have a headache.You are paler to-day than you were.
I,too,have been suffering from headache.We have to wait here a few minutes,I think.
They walked up and down the platform,each one more and more embarrassingly concerned with the awkwardness of his friends presence.They reached the end of the footway,and paused in sheer absent-mindedness.Stephens vacant eyes rested upon the operations of some porters,who were shifting a dark and curious-looking van from the rear of the train,to shunt another which was between it and the fore part of the train.This operation having been concluded,the two friends returned to the side of their carriage.
Will you come in here?said Knight,not very warmly.
I have my rug and portmanteau and umbrella with me:it is rather bothering to move now,said Stephen reluctantly.Why not you come here?
I have my traps too.It is hardly worth while to shift them,for I shall see you again,you know.
Oh,yes.
And each got into his own place.Just at starting,a man on the platform held up his hands and stopped the train.
Stephen looked out to see what was the matter.
One of the officials was exclaiming to another,That carriage should have been attached again.Cant you see it is for the main line?Quick!What fools there are in the world!
What a confounded nuisance these stoppages are!exclaimed Knight impatiently,looking out from his compartment.What is it?
That singular carriage we saw has been unfastened from our train by mistake,it seems,said Stephen.
