Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1867-05-30
Se1eetea Tale.
THE ENGINEERS STORY.
" Going up tonight, Frank?"


leaned against the arched brick door
way nearly shrouded in shadow,
watching the hurried, anxious faces
that came and went, under the gilt
tering gas lights yet here was Ca
rew's hand on my shoulder, and Ca
rew's genial countenance looking in
to mine. We had been close friends
and allies two years ago, when he
had been conductor and | was engi-
neer on On the same train. Tempted
by more liberal offer, l had left my
post on the Lady Franklin and
undertaken the supervision of large
machine shop ; yet l had recollection
of my railway days, and tonight, as
l stood ON the old familiar ground,
with the we'll known sights and
sounds around me, and the Lady ]"
gliding out of her place of shelter
with FURNISHED sides and flaming
headlight, almost wished myself
back again at my old post.
Yes, | thought | should. How's
the old Lady? Holds her own
pretty we'll 2"
Better than the new one deal p'
said the conductor, enthusiastically,
viewing the fiery-throated monster
as she pulled and groaned, ran back
ward few steps, and then darted
forward, in manner entirely enig-
matical to any but our initiated
selves.
"She looks as trim as city belle"
eyes Mcleod keeps her well up.
| say Frank, McLeod's wife is going
through tonight"
know he was looking closely at
me, scrutinizing my countenance
but managed with an effort to say,
quite carelessly and unconcernedly
Is she 2"
Carew had known all about the
one disastrous love affair of my youth;
he knew perfectly well that pretty
Isabel Martin had suddenly turned
round and married John Mcleod af-
ter encouraging my suit for nearly
year and he knew also how sen
sitive | still was ON the subject. |
had not blamed Isabel so much as
some might have been disposed to
do she was very young, and en-
tirely under the influence of her faith
er, with whom Mcleod was great
favorite. But none the less l had re-
ceived a great and enduring shock.
Poor little Isabel" said Carew,
as he reached up to turn down a
long Jet Of gas that threatened to
crack its glass globe l rather
think she has got pretty we'll sick Of
Mcleod by this time"
"Why? Does he ill-treat her 2"
"Well, don't suppose he either
locks her up on bread and water, or
beats her but do suppose that in
every other particular in which
man can neglect or ill-treat woman
she is neglected and ill-treated.
"The old brute !" muttered, be-
tween my teeth.
"Well-I shall see you again."
said Carew, vanishing into the crowd
with a sinuous ease and swiftness
peculiar, l believe to the race of con-
ductors.
1t was a tempestuous night in
March-the wind bowling and Shrek
ing like an infuriated demon, and the
rain beating q stormy fugue on the
depot roof, as l advanced to help a
| woman in with a heavy basket.
Excuse me, madam, but that is
too heavy for you to lift !"
She looked up to thank me, but the
words died on her lips as her eyes
met mine. 1t was Isabel Mcleod,
the lost love whom | still cherished
in my heart, and the wife of the en-.
gineer of the Night Express. | was
the first to recover my composure
for this, be it remembered, was the
first time we had met since her mar
riage, more than three years before.
"Here is a vacant seat, Isabel
do you wish to sit so near the stove?
1T makes no difference" said lsa-
bel, hurriedly. "I am very much
obliged to you, Mr.. Atwater."
"How does it happen that you are
going through such stormy night2"
| asked, unmindful of her evident
anxiety to be left alone.
al do not know myself, except
that John wishes it."
Still l fingered. Is there any
thing more | can do for you Isabel ("
There was no answer stopped
my head a little lower.
" Isabel, you are crying What
has grieved you? Isabel tell me
what the trouble is ="
Nothing-nothing," she sobbed
behind her veil. "Only-I had not
seen you in so long a time, and it
was like old days once more ; and
and l am very foolish. Please leave
me now, won't W"
obeyed her, puzzled and indig-
nant. Carew was right. A happy
wife does not burst out crying when
she meets the friends of her girlhood;
happy wife's look is far, far differ
ent from that pale, frightened face.
l felt strongly inclined to go straight
out to John McLeod's post on the
"Lady Franklin" and administer a
summary thrashing then and there.
But | checked my rising choler,
and contented myself instead with
leisurely saunter through the train
now under full notion 1t was very
pleasant to find myself once again
on the old familiar ground. The
brakemen all had a word of respect
full greeting for me, the baggage
master insisted on ensconcing me in
the single armchair which graced
his car, while he himself sat on a
i