"You did indeed!" I replied with a laugh; "and what a ducking you must have got!"
Frank laughed too, and resumed. "I was sadly afraid that your aunt might have found out you were holding a parley with the enemy outside the walls. I knew you were to go to London to-day. I thought very likely you might be annoyed, and put under surveillance on my account, and I was resolved to see you, if only for one moment; so I borrowed these ragged garments of a professional beggar, who I believe is a great deal better off in reality than myself, and I determined to watch for your carriage and trust to chance for a word, or even a glance of recognition. She has befriended me more than I could expect. At first, when I saw 'Aunt Deborah' alone in the chariot, it flashed across me that perhaps you were to stay _en penitence_ at Dangerfield. But I knew Lady Horsingham had a pony-carriage. I also knew--or what would be the use of servants?--that it was ordered this morning; so I stumped gaily along the road, thinking that at all events I might have an opportunity of saying three words to you at the station whilst the servants were putting the luggage on, and the dear aunts, who I presume cherish a mutual hatred, were wishing each other a tender farewell. But that such a chance as this runaway should befriend me was more than I ever dared to hope for, and that I should be sitting next _you_, Kate (and _so close_, I'm sure he might have added), in Lady Horsingham's pony-phaeton is a piece of good luck that in my wildest moments I never so much as dreamt of. We scarcely ever meet now. There--you needn't drive so fast; the up-train don't go by till the half-hour, and every minute is precious, at least to _me_. We are kept sadly apart, Kate. If you can bear it, I can't. I should like to be near you always--always to watch over you and worship you. Confound that pony! he's off again."
Sure enough, Tiny was indulging in more vagaries, as if he meditated a second fit of rebellion; and what with holding him and humouring Mouse, and keeping my head down so as to hide my face from Frank, for I didn't want him to see how I was blushing, I am sure I had enough to do.
"Kate, you must really have pity on me," pursued Frank. "You don't know how miserable I am sometimes (I wonder what he wanted me to say?), or how happy you have it in your power to make me. Here we are at that cursed station, and my dream is over. I must be the cripple and the beggar once more--a beggar I am indeed, Kate, without your affection. When shall we meet again, and where?"