Absolutely passive, Eleanor swayed a little with the trap, but made no motion of her own. Indeed, there was little motion within. The train had gone over the trestle, that was all. Bertram Chester was on that train. She must not try to think it out—must only hold tight to herself until she found how God had decided for her. Once it did occur that she had fretted her heart away over shadowy ills, toy troubles, while Bertram walked the earth 242 free and healthy. How trivial those troubles seemed beside this real apprehension! Once again, she wondered how she had been cruel enough to hold him at arm’s length so long. Was this to be the punishment for her folly?
A buckboard, driven furiously, came over the hill-rise before them—the doctor’s rig.
“Ask him—ask him!” she called to her driver. As they drew up alongside, the doctor’s driver began talking without need for inquiries.
“Spread rail! The rear car just bucked over the trestle—”
“Anybody dead?”
“Two that I saw—and everybody in the rear car hurt. They’re loading ’em on the front car to take ’em to town. Good bye—I’ve got to bring back medicine before they start!”
The chances were even—the chances were even. If he had been in the front car—relief. If he had been in the rear car—
The thing opened before them like a panorama as they topped the hill. The engine puffing regularly, normally, the baggage car and one coach on the rails behind it; a little crowd buzzing and rushing up and down the 243 trestle; a black, distorted mass of iron and splinters at the edge of the water below. Three or four heads appeared above the trestle, and the people swarmed in that direction. The heads grew to four men, carrying between them a bundle covered by a red blanket.
Judge Tiffany spoke for the first time.
“You’d better not see it, Nell!”