Volume Three—Chapter Twenty.
The Bird Flies.
“Here, let-down the window! Open the door! Good heavens, there’ll be some one killed! Let him be; we’ll get him in. Those porters are so officious, and they cause accidents, instead of preventing ’em. Let him be, I tell you, and report him afterwards. There, I thought so! They’ll be killed! Heaven help him—he’s down under one of the carriages!”
So cried one of Ella’s fellow-travellers as he witnessed the struggle from within, heedless, in his excitement, that not a word he uttered was heard by the actors in the thrilling scene. But as Max was caught by the carriage and dragged under the train, the man threw open the window and leaned out as far as he could, to draw his head back after a few moments, and impart his intelligence to the pale figure close beside him.
“I’m afraid he’s killed, miss!”
Still no answer. Ella neither heard nor saw, for this part of her life—from the time when Max caught her wrists in his, and till long after—was a void that her memory could never again people.
“Deaf as a post, and a good thing too, poor lass!” muttered the man as he again leaned out.
And now there was shouting, signalling, and the stopping of the train for a few minutes, long enough for the passengers to see a motionless form lifted from the line and borne into one of the waiting-rooms, the passenger who had watched the proceedings having leaped out, but now coming panting back to reach his place as the signal for starting was once more given.
“Is he much hurt?” was eagerly asked by the other occupants of the carnage.
“I’m afraid so,” said the passenger.
“Not killed?”
“No, I don’t think he’s killed. You see, he went down at the end of the platform just where it begins to slope. If it had been off the level, he must have been crushed to death in an instant. But I didn’t have above a quarter of a minute to see him.”
“It’s very, very dangerous,” observed one, “this trying to get into a train when it’s started.”
“Very,” said another; “but they will do it. That gentleman, too, was so determined, climbing over the fence; and I suppose that made the railway folks determined too.”
“He must have been anxious to get off, or he would not have acted as he did.”
“Some particular appointment or another, I should think.”
“Well, poor fellow, I hope he is not badly injured,” was the charitable wish now uttered, when a dissertation upon the right or wrong action of porters in trying to stop people ensued, it being generally accorded that the by-laws upon which they acted ought to be rescinded, and that the guard ought to report all breaches of the regulations at the next station.
And all these comments were made within Ella’s hearing, but without once diverting her steadfast stony gaze, as now, leaning back in her corner, she looked straight out at the flying landscape as mile after mile was passed.
Once or twice a remark was made to her, but she merely bent her head; and at last she was allowed to remain unquestioned, unnoticed, as the train sped on swiftly towards the great metropolis.
She changed carriages mechanically when requested, and again and again produced her ticket, but always in the same dreamy strange way. Passengers came, and passengers went, some speaking, others paying no heed to their closely veiled and silent companion; but not once did Ella speak or evince any knowledge of what was passing around.
How that journey was performed, she never knew, nor by what strange influence she was guided in her acts; but press on she did, and to the end.