THE SIGNALMAN’S LOVE-STORY.
IN TWO CHAPTERS.—CHAP. II.
I obeyed Miss Cleabyrn’s injunction not to follow her, though I wished to restore the watch and chain she had left with me; but I strained my gaze in the direction she had taken. In the continued bellowing of the wind and through the driving rain, it was difficult to hear or see anything, even when close at hand; yet I fancied I could hear her footsteps, as she reached the lane which was at the foot of the railway bank, and could see her.—Yes! again I heard footsteps; but surely they were not hers; and the vague, shadowy glimpse of a form I obtained was not Beatrice Cleabyrn, and—I might be confused by the rain; but if not, there were two others.
It was in vain to strain my sight any longer; I could see and hear no more, so I returned to my duties; and in the morning I might almost have persuaded myself that all had been a dream, but for the presence of the articles which Miss Cleabyrn had left with me.
I felt at liberty, and indeed felt bound to take my mother into the secret, as her house would probably be the place of refuge for the captain; but I did not tell her all I have now said. She was not informed of what I well knew was the true reason for Miss Cleabyrn seeking me out and intrusting me with so dangerous a secret.
The old lady, who was a confirmed student of the newspaper, and had long been interested in the fate and fortunes of the captain, was glad to have the chance of being of service to him, and arranged at once where he should sleep. We had not much choice, our cottage being but of four rooms.
My mate told me, when I went on duty, that it was rumoured at the Chequers that Captain Laurenston was in the neighbourhood for certain, and would be caught, worse luck! It was impossible that he could get away, there was such a lot on the lookout for him. I returned some indifferent answer, for, of course, I could not tell him how terribly I could have corroborated his tale. I could, however, and did, echo his last wish at leaving, that the officer might beat all his enemies.
It was again a soaking wet night; the wind had gone down, so that the rain did not drive as on the previous day, and there was no violence in the downpour, but it was steady and drenching enough. The usual passenger and goods trains had passed, and I grew nervous with expectancy. No idea had been given me as to when Captain Laurenston would make his appearance; but I could not help thinking it would be about the same time as my visitor had come on the previous evening; and I was right.
I took the precaution to turn my lamp down a little, so as to diminish the light; for there was no knowing what eyes might be on the watch, and I was standing at the entrance to my hut, striving to pierce the darkness, when I was startled by two figures coming suddenly before me. I knew them. They entered, and I closed the door.
‘Thank heaven, you are safe, so far, Oswald!’ exclaimed the lady—Miss Cleabyrn, of course—‘and I know you can confide in our friend Waltress; so I trust you are out of the toils.’