Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 June 1893 — A JOURNEY BY RAIL. [ARTICLE]

A JOURNEY BY RAIL.

Annabel Randall in Brandon Banner. The winter night was closing dark and drear, around the tumult and bustle of .the railroad station in the heart of the city. Without the snow fell, white and ceaselessly, and the fiery eye of the locomotive threw a line of light through the darkness for yards around., Hugh Southbank was walking slowly up and down the platform with his arm resting slowly on the shoulder of Alf red Neville, his dearest friend. Both were wrapped to the throat in furs. “So you are really setting forth, Hugh!” exclaimed Neville. “And when shall you return home?” “I can scarcely tell; certainly not in many years, and, perhaps never. I may become a Russian, or possibly pitch my tent among the palm trees of Palestine.” “Hugh,” said his friend, turning so as to look into the dark eyes that were partially hidden by the fur.trimmed cap of the traveler, “I remember when you were the quietest and most home-loving of prosaic individuals. What has changed you so entirely?” j “Time works changes in us all,” 'returned Southbank evasively. ; “Hugh!” said Neville, reproachfully, “surely we have not been fast friends for twenty years for you to deny me your confidence at last?” “I have no secrets from you, Neville,” replied Hugh, somewhat softened by the earnestness of his friend’s appeal. “Nor am I unwilling to confess to you that the whole current of m v life has been changed since that unlucky quarrel with Edith Sayre, six years ago. We both acted very like a couple of foolish children, and So we parted.” “And what has become of her?” “She married Charles Calthorpe years ago, and I have long lost sight of her.” “Why don’t you follow her example, my boy, and take unto yourself a wife?”- — , Southbank shrugged his shoulders. “Hello! here come your train! In with you, old fellow —drop me a line now and then, just to let me know that you haven’t turned Mussulman at Constantinople, or taken to tigerhunting in the jungles of Bengal. ” A Thdte was a cordial grasp of two earnest hands and then Alfred Neville stood alone on the platform, a mist that was not the dew of melting snow-flakes before his eyes, and the express trainjwas speeding away ’ through the gloom and darkness of the winter night. “Is this seat engaged, sir?” Hugh Southbank answered in the negative almost petulantly, for the conductor’s voice roused him from a deep reverie into which he had fallen. The twilight of the half-illumined car, the heated atmosphere within, and the swift, tremulous motion of the train, were alike favorable to dream fancies, and it was not particularly pleasant to be roused up to make room for a lady with two little children. “People haven’t any business to be traveling with children!” grumbled the fat man with spectacles opposite, across whose outstretched feet the little 4-year-old had stumbled. Hugh Southbank, whether out of the sheer spirit of con tradiction or from Christian charity will never be known, leaned forward and took the 4-year-old upon his knee while he assisted the lady to dispose of her manifold traveling bags and bundles. r -—“Thank you, .sir.-” The words were spoken so low that Southbank scarcely caught the sound, but the rosy little boy on his knee quite made up for his mother’s .taciturnity by clamorously demanding to see the stranger’s watch and rubbing his velvet cheek delightedly against the costly furs which edged Hugh’s traveling coat. “Papa had a fur coat like this—papa is dead!’ ’ chattered the 1 ittln fellow, lifting his brown eyes to Hugh Southbank’s with innocent confidence. Southbank did not answer. “And mamma is going to B ! Mamma has only $9 left,” went on toe small chatterer, “and- ” “Hngh, dear, don’t talk any interposed the soft, tremulous voice at Southbank’s side, with an accent that thrilled him to the very heart. Southbank leaned forward to get a glimpse of the face toat belonged to the sweet, low voice, but it was useless—the car was too dark. “And what is your name, my little fellow?” he asked, a sudden inspiration coming to his aid. “Mamma says I’m not to talk,” pouted the child. “Tickets; if you please," shouted the conductor, bustling down the aisle. “Hold your lantern here a minute, my man. Where did I put that ticket?” said Hugh, ostentatiously searching through the compartments of his pocketbook. “Oh, here it is—all right.” “All right” indeed, for in the full glare of the lantern he had discovered the key of that troublesome migma. Their eyes had met for one second and Hugh Southbank knew that Edith Sayre was sitting beside hitn. Through the lonely winter solitudes—through glens of icicle-hung trees and snowy ravines, and miles on miles of dreary hills and vales—darted the night express, its iron lungs breathing columns of fi«ry smoke, its solitary eye of red flame cleaving the darkness like a spear. Long ago the child on Hugh’s knee had fallen asleep. The baby’s blue

eyes were veiled beneath the tiny slumberous lids, but neither Hugh nor Edith evinced the least tendency to drift off into (dreamland, fqr the pate and beautiful young widowhad told the simple story of tier life to him who had once confidently hoped to share its vicissitudes. “Rut T am wearying you,” she said timidly. " 1 t ~ “No, Edith,” said Southbank, reproachfully. “Who should be interested in the history of your sorrows if not I?” “Jt is a year to-night since Charles died,” she added, “and I feel that it is my duty to exert myself for the benefit of those little ones, who are left penniless. Mr. Southbank, your circle of friends is large and influential —at least I know that it was. Can you tell me of any situation in which I could earn a livelihood, however humble? Hugh was silent an instant; he could scarcely realize that the meek, timid creature was the high-spirited Edith Sayre of stx years since. At last he spoke rather nervously. , ■ “I know of but one plan, Edith, which ! could confidentially recommend to you, and I fear, even in this instance, you will be unwilling to take my advice.” “I will do whatever you recommend, Hugh.” ! ‘Then you will let the six years that haVe passed be but a dream, and stand once more at my side as we stood together in auld lang syne. I have never ceased to love you, Edith. Will you forget the past and be my wife?”— __ “But the children, Hugh?” “They shall be my children, too.” Speed on your way, fleet-winged" night express. You bear within your iron arms two hearts that have gone through the ordeal of trial and suffering, to be happy at last.