Two ladies were coming up the aisle, the one bordering on middle age,
the other young and of uncommon beauty, but it was upon neither of
these that Diana's startled eyes were fixed. Behind them, and
evidently of their party, came a tall, fair man whose supple length of
limb and very blue eyes sent a little thrill of recognition through her
veins.

It was her fellow-traveller of that memorable journey down from town!

She closed her eyes a moment. Once again she could hear the horrifying
crash as the engine hurled itself against the track that blocked the
metals, feel the swift pall of darkness close about her, rife with a
thousand terrors, and then, out of that hideous night, the grip of
strong arms folded round her, and a voice, harsh with fear, beating
against her ears:

"Are you hurt? . . . My God, are you hurt?"

When she opened her eyes again, the little party of three had taken
their places and were composedly following the service. Apparently he
had not seen her, and Diana shrank a little closer into the friendly
shadow of the pulpit, feeling for the moment an odd, nervous fear of
encountering his eyes.

But she soon realised that she need not have been alarmed. He was
evidently quite unaware of her proximity, for his glance never once
strayed in her direction, and, gradually gaining courage as she
appreciated this, Diana ventured to let her eyes turn frequently during
the service towards the pew where the newcomers were sitting.