The Worthington advance., 1880-09-02

NUMBER 4:
It was possible, nay probable, that
some one would pass by before it should
the town than by the bridge I have men
toned, though always regarded as more
dangerous on account Of its narrowness,
from which there would be no possibili-
ty Of escape in case train should come
in sight while passing over it. Already
one person had been killed by endeavor-
ing to cross at time when the train was
due; and should be the second to per-
ish there? How the thought tortured
me, and once again I tugged at the re-
sisting plank. With all my strength I
tried to withdraw my foot and leave the
boot: but impossible!
| It was 4 o'clock-in half an hour it
would be dark-another hour, and death
would be certain. I shouted for aid, but
no habitation was within half a mile, and
no answer was returned to my cries.
Again and again I shrieked, while the
despairing echoes reverberated through
the distant wood, as though they would
mock me In my misery. And then, with
all the accumulated strength of mad
ness, wrenched the plank, but could
not move it from its place. Surely it
could not be possible that / should be
obliged to sit there and be crushed to
death, when human aid was so near.
Had I been in some isolated forest, some
depth Of country, distant from town or
cottage, my doom might have been more
certain. Once again I shrieked with
agonzing fury; wildly, desperately, the
SCUM. Of my voice rang out on the chill
! ing air; while nothing but the mocking
echoes made reply.
The sun had set, and the darkness was
| gathering fast over the valley below.
Already the last reddening glow of sun
! shine was cleaning on the tops of the
forest trees. My irrevocable destiny be-
came every moment more and more ap-
parent.
Hark ! It is the train. No, no! I
stretched forward, and listened with
breathlcss eagcrness. There was not
sound to break the silence; must have
been deceived. But list A voice,
voice +! Thank Heaven!
"Help help! help!" cried, and
each time shouted the words seemed,
| in despair, nerved up to greater power
Of speech, and called louder and louder
each time. Did he hear me-? There
was no answer-all was still. Oh, merci-
ful Heaven was this last chance for
life denied me ?
"Hall-oo!" shouted some one.
The voice was distant, but, oh, how
my blood leaped with Joy at the sound
Again I called with all the strength of
my lungs. and again I was answered. In
little while figure appeared advanc-
ing toward me, but it was growing all
ready so dark I could not recognize him,
nor did care to do so; but when he
came close to me, one glance showed
me it was Arthur Wesley.
Should I let him pass by, nor ask him
to assist me? Would he do so? As he
approached he asked:
Is that you, MI. Worthington
Bless me, are you hurt?''
"No, thank you, not much hurt"
replied but see, lam so nicely trapped
here that I could not free myself alone,
and 1 think it is nearly time for the ex-
press train to be due"
It was growing dark very fast SO
dark, indeed, was it that I found it i'm
possible to discover what time it was by
! my watch. BE never hesitated mo-
ment, but seized the detested plank with
both hands, and at the same instant I
also initiated his movements. The &C.
| cursed thing resisted all our efforts, and
| remained obstinately immovable. What
could bo done? In half an hour the
train would be due. Would there be
time to go for assistance-to bring an
ax and iberate my foot? He would try.
"For Heavens sake, Mr.. Wesley"
said I, as he started to go, "be expe-
ditious. It is too terrible to be obliged
to sit here and face death unwillingly."
I was alone again. The winds sighed
mournfully about me, but I felt relief.
l even forgot my danger, and turned
my attention once more to the thoughts
with which I had been occupied when I
had unwittingly stumbled into my pres
ent difficulty.
Nevertheless I was apprehensive that
he might be delayed until the train
should pass. In fact, T had no assur-
ance that he had time to go to Mr..
Ames' and return before it would be too
late. Another thought rushed through
my frantic brain. Had he deceived me?
Would he not be only too happy in te-
ing thus easily rid Of my unwelcome
presence? I felt he never would come
to me again-he would leave me to the
mercy OF such cruel death. Heavens
there is no mistaking that sound-the
whistle at the Forest station, only five
miles distant!
How we'll do remember the thoughts
that passed through my mind as 1 pa
tiently awaited the return of Arthur
Wesley; for, although I had every rea-
son to believe he would not come, still L
instinctively awaited him, and hoped,
oh, how hoped he would return
Nearly two hours had I sat there. and
now was still waiting and vibrating be-
tween the hope of delivery and the al
most-certain conviction of destruction.
The fearful chill of despair was Creep
ing over me my trembling limbs al
ready announced that my nerves were
sinking in exhaustion. At every mo-
| ment I kept watch for his returning
footsteps, but no welcome sound fell on
| my ear.
Rarlz it is the train! The low, dis
tant thunder cannot deceive me now. tt
will be here in few minutes.
Help help y cried.
The wailing cry faded away, and
there was no answer. Louder and
louder came the thunder; nearer end
nearer came the train. The rising moon
disclosed to me the white column of
smoke and steam, rising above the hill
beyond the curve and now the regular
ly beating puff and cough of the engine
struck my ear, like the gloating chuckle
| Of some terrible monster regarding his
victim. How like a frenzy the thought
came on me that it was now too late for
| assistance No human being would
venture on the bridge when the train
1vas within hearinn distance when Il