Volume Ii Part 69 (1/2)
”Thy power and love, my love and trust, Make one place everywhere.”
But the night fell, and Fleda at last could see nothing but the dim rail-fences they were flying by, and the reflection from some stationary lantern on the engine, or one of the forward cars, that always threw a bright spot of light on the snow. Still she kept her eyes fastened out of the window; anything but the view _inboard_. They were going slowly now, and frequently stopping; for they were out of time, and some other trains were to be looked-out for. Nervous work; and whenever they stopped, the voices which at other times were happily drowned in the rolling of the car-wheels, rose and jarred in discords far less endurable. Fleda shut her ears to the words, but it was easy enough without words to understand the indications of coa.r.s.e and disagreeable natures in whose neighbourhood she disliked to find herself ? of whose neighbourhood she exceedingly disliked to be reminded. The muttered oath, the more than muttered jest, the various laughs that tell so much of head or heart emptiness ? the shadowy but sure tokens of that in human nature which one would not realize, and which one strives to forget; Fleda shrank within herself, and would gladly have stopped her ears; did sometimes covertly. Oh, if home could be but reached, and she out of this atmosphere! how well she resolved that never another time, by any motive of delicacy, or otherwise, she would be tempted to trust herself in the like again without more than womanly protection. The hours rolled wearily on; they heard nothing of Greenfield yet.
They came at length to a more obstinate stop than usual. Fleda took her hands from her ears to ask what was the matter.
”I don't know,” said Mrs. Renney. ”I hope they won't keep us a great while waiting here.”
The door swung open, and the red comforter and tarpaulin hat of one of the breakmen showed itself a moment. Presently after, ”Can't get on,” was repeated by several voices in the various tones of a.s.sertion, interrogation, and impatience. The women folks, having n.o.body to ask questions of, had nothing for it but to be quiet and use their ears.
”Can't get on!” said another man, coming in ? ”there's nothing but snow out o' doors ? track's all foul.”
A number of people instantly rushed out to see.
”Can't get on any further to-night?” asked a quiet old gentleman of the news-bringer.
”Not another inch, Sir; worse off than old Dobbs was in the mill-pond ? we've got half way, but we can't turn and go back.”
”And what are we going to do?” said an unhappy wight, not quick in drawing conclusions.
”I s'pose we'll all be stiff by the morning,” answered the other, gravely ? ”unless the wood holds out, which aint likely.”
How much there is in even a cheery tone of voice. Fleda was sorry when this man took his away with him. There was a most uncheering confusion of tongues for a few minutes among the people he had left, and then the car was near deserted; everybody went out to bring his own wits to bear upon the obstacles in the way of their progress. Mrs. Renney observed that she might as well warm her feet while she could, and went to the stove for the purpose.
Poor Fleda felt as if she had no heart left. She sat still in her place, and leaned her head upon the back of the deserted chair before her, in utter inability to keep it up. The night journey was bad enough, but _this_ was more than she had counted upon. Danger, to be sure, there might be none in standing still there all night, unless, perhaps, the danger of death from the cold. She had heard of such things; but to sit there till morning among all those people, and obliged to hear their unloosed tongues, Fleda felt almost that she could not bear it ? a most forlorn feeling, with which came anew a keen reflection upon the Evelyns, for having permitted her to run even the hazard of such trouble. And in the morning, if well it came, who would take care of them in all the subsequent annoyance and difficulty of getting out of the snow?
It must have taken very little time for these thoughts to run through her head, for half a minute had not flown, when the vacant seat beside her was occupied, and a band softly touched one of hers which lay in her lap. Fleda started up in terror, to have the hand taken and her eye met by Mr. Carleton.
”Mr. Carleton! ? O Sir, how glad I am to see you!” was said by eye and cheek, as unmistakably as by word.
”Have you come from the clouds?”
”I might rather ask that question of you,” said he, smiling.
”You have been invisible ever since the night when I had the honour of playing the part of your physician.”
”I could not help it, Sir ? I was sure you would believe it. I wanted exceedingly to see you, and to thank you as well as I could, but I was obliged to leave it.”
She could hardly say so much. Her swimming eye gave him more thanks than he wanted. But she scolded herself vigorously, and after a few minutes, was able to look and speak again.
”I hoped you would not think me ungrateful, Sir, but in case you might, I wrote to let you know that you were mistaken.”
”You wrote to me?” said he.
”Yes, Sir, yesterday morning ? at least it put in the post yesterday morning.”
”It was more unnecessary than you are aware of,” he said, with a smile, and turning one of his deep looks away from her.
”Are we fast here for all night, Mr. Carleton!” she said, presently.
”I am afraid so ? I believe so ? I have been out to examine, and the storm is very thick.”
”You need not look so about it for me,” said Fleda ? ”I don't care for it all now.”