Page:010 Once a week Volume X Dec 1863 to Jun 64.pdf/589

 the narrow road; he could not—at least Laura could not—get to the station without procuring another. He did not know this locality at all personally; he had never traversed it; it was a by-road that led to Lichford, and that was all he know about it. Whether any assistance was to be obtained or not, he was in complete ignorance.

As he peered about, wondering if anything more human than trees and hedges was between the spot and Lichford, a faint glimmer of light on one side the lane gradually disclosed itself to view through the misty darkness of the night. At the same moment the voice of his companion was heard, its accents full of lamentation and affright.

“What is to become of us? What shall we do? Oh Lewis! I wish we had never come!”

He felt for her situation more keenly than she could. He implored her to be tranquil, not to give way to fear or despondency; he promised to extricate her from the embarrassment with the best exertion of his best efforts, and moved forward in the direction of the light.

He found that it proceeded from a candle placed in a cottage window. Mr. Carlton shouted, but it elicited no response, so he went close up, through what seemed a complete slough of despond, if mud can constitute that agreeable situation, and opened the door.

The room was empty. A poor room bare of fire, with a clock in one corner and the candle in the window. Mr. Carlton shouted again, and it brought forth an old man from some back premises, in a blue frock and a cotton nightcap.

A thoroughly stupid old man, who was deaf, and looked aghast at the sight of the gentleman. He began saying something about “th’ old ‘ooman, who had gone to some neighbouring village and ought to have been home two hour afore and hadn’t come yet, so he had stuck a candle in the winder to light her across the opposite field.” Mr. Carlton explained his accident, and asked whether he could get a conveyance near that would take him on.

“Not nearer nor Lichford,” answered the old man, when he had mastered the question by dint of putting his hand to his ear and bending it forward until it nearly touched Mr. Carlton’s lips.

“Not nearer than Lichford!” repeated Mr. Carlton “Are there no houses, no farms about?”

“No, there’s nothing o’ the sort,” the old man rejoined. “There’s a sprinkling o’ cottages, a dozen maybe in all, atween this and Lichford, but they be all poor folks’s, without as much as a cart among ’em.”

“Halloa! what’s to do here?” came forth on Mr. Carlton’s ear in hearty tones from the outside. Glad enough to hear them, he hastened out. A couple of labouring men, young and strong, had come upon the overturned carriage in going along the lane to their homes after their day’s work. They almost seemed like two angels at the moment to Mr. Carlton, in his helpless position.

By their exertions—and Mr. Carlton gave his aid—the carriage and wheel were dragged under a shed belonging to the old man’s cottage. They confirmed the information that no horse or vehicle was to be had nearer than Lichford, and Mr. Carlton was asking one of the men to go there and procure one, when he was interrupted by Laura.

Oh, let her walk! let her walk! she said. She should not dare to trust herself again behind a strange horse that night; and, besides, if they waited they should inevitably lose the train.

“You cannot walk, Laura. Think of the rain—the mud. You can have shelter inside this old man’s cottage until the conveyance comes.”

But Laura, when she chose, could be as persistent as anybody, and she was determined to bear on at once to Lichford, braving all inconveniences and discomforts. Poor thing! the chance of pursuit, of discovery, appeared to her a vista of terror and disgrace; she had embarked on this mad scheme, and there was nothing for it but to go on now.

So they started: one of the men carrying Mr. Carlton’s portmanteau and a small parcel brought by Laura, and a lantern; the other, bribed well, entering on a search with another lantern after Mr. Carlton’s fugitive horse. But it was a comfortless journey, that mile and a half of lane; a wretched journey. Umbrellas appeared to be as scarce an article in the locality as were carriages; the old man confessed to possessing one—“a old green un, wi’ ne’er a whalebone i’ th’ half o’ him”—but his missing wife had got it with her. How they gained the station, Laura never knew, Mr. Carlton almost as little. He had taken off his overcoat and wrapped it about her; but the rain was drenching them, and both were wet through when they reached the station at Lichford.

When within a few yards of it, the whistle and the noise of an advancing train sounded in their ears. Laura shrieked, and flew onward.

“We shall be too late! Lewis, we shall be too late!”

Instinct, more than the lights, guided her through a waiting-room to the platform.