FOUR other passengers were traveling in the same compartment with Kate, on her way to the ancient city of Worcester. One, an old lady of apparently seventy-five years of age, caused much quiet amusement; but it was easy to restrain the smile which involuntarily rose to one's lips, when the unaccustomed traveler gravely told her companions that she had never traveled by rail before, but that she was now "risking her life" in this way, in order to see her son who was dying of consumption at Ashchurch.
"God can take care of you in the train as well as on the high road," remarked a tall, intellectual- looking gentleman, who occupied a seat just opposite to that in which the old lady was seated.
"I know that, sir," she replied; "but I'd a sight rather be driving behind the slowest donkey in the country than spinning at this rate through the air." And the old lady visibly shuddered, as she gazed for a moment through the open window at the fields and trees so rapidly receding from her view.
"You will get used to the movement presently," remarked a quiet-looking lady in a sympathizing tone. “We mothers will suffer anything for our children, won't we?"
"You've had children of your own then, ma'am, I s'pose," remarked the old lady, as she turned towards the last speaker, and marked the garb of mourning in which she was attired.
“I have just lost one, a little child of barely three years old." And the tears rose to the lady's eyes as she spoke.
“May I suggest not lost, but gone before, madam?" said the gentleman who had first spoken. And his eyes had a depth of meaning in them as he spoke, so that Kate could not but feel that he, too, had known what it was at some time or other to mourn the loss of a friend.
“Sometimes I say that to myself," replied the lady courteously; "but more frequently I use the other term."
“It is not a happy term," continued the gentleman. “When we read of the Savior leaving the bright home on high to save the little ones, we should never speak of them as lost."
“I suppose you are right," replied the lady, with a slightly puzzled look.
“Well, mother," said a rough-looking countryman who, up till this moment, had remained apparently half asleep in his seat, "I should think as this rate would suit you. It isn't much faster than your donkey as you just talked about, is it?"
“This is really a lot better," said the old lady with satisfaction, as she perceived the much slower rate at which the train had been proceeding during the last few minutes of the conversation.
“We ain't far from Networth tunnel," said the man with a coarse laugh. "Ever been in a tunnel in your life, mother? I should say we should be a good half-hour going through at this rate!"
“Is it worser than other parts, sir?" asked the frightened old lady, as the train gradually decreased in speed.
“My good woman, I have told you before that God's care over His creatures is the same in all places." And turning to the uncourteous countryman, who, to judge by his appearance, was about twenty-five years of age, he said in a grave tone, " Young man, I fear you have no mother; or if you have, you certainly do not know how to behave to her. I pity you." And the deep-set eyes were retaining their fixed, steady gaze upon the reddening face of the offender.
"Didn't mean any harm by the joke," muttered the countryman awkwardly. "Can't a fellow have a laugh when he chooses?”
“Not at the weaknesses of old age, surely," said the gentleman decidedly.
“I’ll remember my manners better the next time as I travels with you, which won't be yet a while," returned the man uncivilly.
“I fear there is something wrong," said the gentleman a minute or two afterward. “It is unusual for us to enter the tunnel at this pace, and we must be almost close to it now." And at this moment the engine, which for the last few minutes had been lessening its speed, suddenly came to a standstill.
“Allow me, my good woman, said the gentleman decidedly, as he placed his hand firmly on the shoulder of the old lady, whose first impulse had been to take a survey from the window.
“I expects they be all tired," said she for the benefit of her hearers "'Tisn't likely they can pull at that rate long; it almost makes me giddy to think of it. 'Twas ever so much better the last mile or so." And the speaker smiled with a sense of satisfaction at her idea of what railway traveling ought to be. But Mr. Martin, for that was the gentleman's name, had ascertained from one of the guards what had been the cause of the stoppage.
“One of the principal valves of the engine has burst," he said quietly, as he took his seat in the corner the old lady had vacated for him. And as he spoke, the deep, earnest eyes rested by turns upon each member of the little company.
“Any danger, sir?" inquired the countryman, forgetting his pique in the excitement of the announcement.
“There is," was the decided reply; and the firmly-set lips proved that he anticipated it.
“Can’t they get on without va's?” asked the old lady in a half-puzzled tone. “Course I don't know what they are, but I should have thought they might manage. Nobody knows what they can do till they try."
“Ladies," said Mr. Martin, and he directed his attention to where my young mistress sat, "it would be cruel to deceive you at such a moment as this. The break-down of the engine is not a very bad affair in itself; there is something worse than that. The 9.50 down express is on our track, and humanly speaking there is little hope of escape."
“I shall get out of the window!" said the countryman impetuously, as he proceeded to put his plan into execution.
“Stay here, my man," said the quiet voice of Mr. Martin, as he placed himself across the open window. “Put your trust in God, and stay quietly where you are; that is the safest thing for us all to do at such a moment." And the young man, awed by the quiet but commanding tone in which he had been addressed, sat down, with a half-dazed look upon his countenance, in the seat from which he had risen. Happily for the poor old lady, she did not know the difference between express and ordinary trains, so that her ignorant mind was unable to grasp the idea of the danger which was so imminently threatening.
Several men, strong, swift runners, had been sent along the line to do all they could by signs and gesticulations to attract the attention of the driver of the expected train, immediately it should be in sight. Colored handkerchiefs of every description were voluntarily bestowed on them as they started on their almost hopeless mission. The nearest signal box was more than two miles distant, and the mouth of the yawning tunnel lay at only a distance of about fifty yards before them.
The scene of terror and dismay among the awestricken passengers was beyond description. Some vainly endeavored to force their way through the windows, while others spent their strength in attempting to batter or burst open the firmly-locked doors. But the faithful guards did their duty, in spite of the volleys of abuse that fell upon them from unholy lips and conscience-stricken hearts.
"We won't die shut up in these carriages," said a burly-looking farmer, as he sought again to force his way through the window from which he had just been repulsed. And timid women and children now joined their shrieks and cries to add to the horror of that solemn moment.
“Can any one tell the time?" inquired Mr. Martin, as he looked anxiously again from the window. “My watch has stopped through some cause or other."
“I never use mine when traveling," replied the lady in mourning. But I was produced in a moment, and placed in Mr. Martin's hands without a word.
“Nine fifty-five!" said he, as he gazed earnestly upon my dial-plate." The runners have had seven minutes; if they have succeeded in attracting the attention of the engine driver or guard, the collision may be a much slighter one; but if not and his upturned gaze showed that the remainder of the sentence needed not to be repeated.
“There’s the whistle," shrieked the countryman wildly, as a long, shrill blast was heard in the distance.
“Let us commend the keeping of our souls to God," said Mr. Martin solemnly, as the rush of the advancing train was heard approaching. “To those who are not ready to die, I say, ' He is able to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by Him.' And to those who know Him, I remind them that He plans all that happens to His children." And as he spoke, he replaced me in my dear young mistress's hands, and whispered, “You can trust yourself to His love?"
“I can," replied Kate, as she received me from Mr. Martin's hand. And as her eye fell upon me for an instant, I heard her repeat as if to herself, "As long as time lasts, He will be with me as He was with her."
How shall I describe the awful moment of suspense which was experienced by those two hundred passengers, as the express came nearer and nearer towards them! Many fainted from fear, and strong hearts grew cowardly, as death stared them in the face. Among those who had fainted were the lady in mourning, and the old lady now in the corner by her side.
"Thank God all her brake power is on," said Mr. Martin, when he discerned the first carriage as it rounded the curve about five hundred yards distant from them.
"Is there any hope?" gasped the terror-stricken countryman, as he caught hold of Mr. Martin's arm. Kate, very pale but calm, sat quietly waiting for-what God should see fit. On round the smooth, level curve, on through the deep cuttings of the hard, jagged rocks, on to swift destruction of life and limb- had not the mighty hand of the living God interposed. Close up to within half a dozen yards did the express train come, when one of the hinder carriages of the express got off the line, and so retarded the mighty engine in her movements. One or two plunges she still made, each bringing her nearer to the dreaded danger; but finally she stood, firm and steady, within half a yard of the guard's van.
“Saved!" said Mr. Martin in a deep, earnest, thankful voice, as he turned and looked at my young mistress's pale face. "Saved!" echoed the passengers, as they took up his word and a grateful shout was instantly raised of "Thank God for His goodness to us to-day!" He had been good indeed to many of those sin-stricken men and women that day. Well might tears of gratitude flow from many an eye as they afterward read that touching verse, "He willeth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should turn from his wickedness and live."
After a few hours' delay, during which a fresh engine was forwarded to take on the disabled train, Kate and her fellow-travelers were on their way through the tunnel to the next station.
“You are a friend of the great Engineer, I perceive," said Mr. Martin to Kate, as she strove to arrange the shawls and wraps of the lady in mourning, who was now gratefully thanking Kate for her services.
“He is a Friend of mine!" said Kate earnestly, as she comprehended his meaning.
“You have never been so near death before," said Mr. Martin, as he quitted the train an hour later. “May you always be enabled to look upon it with such calmness," and warmly pressing the hand of my young mistress, he disappeared among the crowd upon the platform.
With what grateful feelings did Kate lay her aching head that night upon the pillow in Mrs. Brooks's spare bedroom! Too tired to talk much, after the unusual strain and excitement of the day, she had done little else all the evening but lie upon the old leather couch in her father's apartment, and listen to his oft-repeated utterances of gratitude and thankfulness that his daughter's life had been spared. But bedtime had come, and sleep had eased the weary brain and throbbing nerves. And though more than, once in her dreams the scene of the day was partially re-enacted, yet Kate never lost the consciousness that she was ready for what God saw best.