Graham went to see her and his aunt
off at the Great Western terminus, and it was amidst all the
noise, and hurry, and confusion of a railway-station that they
parted at last. It was all over in a minute, and as Graham
stood on the platform, watching the train move slowly out of
the station, a little white face appeared at a carriage-
window, two brown eyes gazed wistfully after him, a little
hand waved one more farewell. It was his last glimpse of our
small Madelon.
PART III.
CHAPTER I.
Letters.
For five years Horace Graham was a wanderer on the other side
of the Atlantic. He had left England with the intention of
remaining abroad for two years only; but at the end of that
time, when the exploring party to which he belonged was
returning home, he did not find it difficult to make excuses
for remaining behind. He had only begun to see the country, he
said in his letters to England; he knew two men who were going
further south, to Paraguay, to La Plata, to Patagonia,
perhaps; and he meant to accompany them, and see what was to
be seen; time enough to think of coming home afterwards; of
what use would it be for him to return just then? "We are both
young," he wrote to his future wife, Maria Leslie, "and can
well afford to wait a year or two before settling down into
sober married life.
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