“If only that fearful clatter would stop for half an hour, how thankful I would be!” she went on, talking to herself in whispers, because it somehow kept her from feeling so lonely, though she was careful not to disturb Mrs. Walford by speaking aloud. “But no, I don’t want it to stop, because if it did it would mean that we were standing still, and that would lengthen the journey. I shall not mind anything when once I have got my errand done, and can turn my face towards home again.”
There was a dismal fear at the back of her mind, lest the journey should take longer than she had expected and arranged for. A hundred miles on a well-made line would not be a very serious matter, but they might have to travel for miles and miles over a skeleton line, that is, a part of the track not yet finished, and then the pace would be of the slowest, certainly not faster than, probably not so fast as, an average horse would travel on trail. And suppose that she could not get back to Rownton in time to take the wagon back at the appointed time!
But there is no sense in meeting trouble halfway. By the watch on her wrist Bertha saw that it was a little past two o’clock, and they seemed to be going ahead at a fine rate, so there might be no delay after all. It might even be possible to get a little sleep. She had not seen the rat again, so it had most likely been effectually scared away. Mrs. Walford was still sleeping profoundly, and it seemed foolish to keep awake for nothing at all.
She was dozing from sheer exhaustion, and in a few minutes would probably have been fast asleep, when there came a fearful lurch, followed by a crash. The lamp swung violently and then went out, and for a moment Bertha thought the train must have been wrecked; but no, it was still going on, only now the pace was an absolute crawl, varied by so many bumps and such violent shaking, that even the profound repose of Mrs. Walford was not equal to the strain put upon it, and she awoke with a start, crying out at the darkness, and groping for something familiar to the touch in the dense gloom.
“Where am I? Where am I? And oh, what is happening?” she gasped, in accents of terror, as another violent lurch of the train sent her flying on to Bertha once more.
“I think we must have reached the skeleton line, because it is bumping and shaking so desperately,” said Bertha, who was somewhat damaged, and decidedly out of breath, from the violent assaults of Mrs. Walford’s bulky form.
“Oh dear! oh dear! And now we shall have to bear this kind of thing right up to the end of the journey,” groaned Mrs. Walford, as the cars swayed and bumped along at a slow crawl, and they were shaken in a most wearing fashion.
“Do you know how long it is likely to take?” gasped Bertha, who began to feel most horribly sick from the swaying, although she had never suffered from train-sickness before.
“No, nor anyone else. We may be out of it in a couple of hours, or it may go on for goodness knows how long. It is one of those things that you can’t reckon on at all. But oh, dear, how I wish that the lamp had not gone out! Do you happen to have any idea what the time is, my dear?” asked Mrs. Walford, with a windy sigh.
“It was a little past two o’clock when I looked at my watch, but I don’t know how long ago that was, because I was nearly asleep when the first bump came,” replied Bertha.