Litchfield enquirer., 1881-06-09
UNDER THE MIDNIGHT LAMP.
FOUNDED ON FACT.
From Tinsley's Magazine. ]

From Tnsley's Magazine.l
 am doctor. busy professional man, whose time is money; whenever, therefore, l can save it, do. Many and many night have passed in the train, counting the hours thus gained as miner does his gold. Upon this point, unfortunately, my little wife and I do not agree; and it is, think, the only point upon which we do not. Eight hours in a comfortless railway compartment, rolled up in your plaid like snake in it's blanket, iu- stead of in your comfortable sheets, stretched over comfortable spring mattress-no she cannot be made to see the propriety of the ex- change, nor will she believe that sleep quite as well, if not disturbed, in the plaid as in the sheets.
 The train was just off as sprang in, and the shock of the start landed me in my seat Being of 8 slow, placid nature, I was in DO hurry to recover from the shock and we were fairly of, speeding away as only an English express can speed, before I looked round. had not the carriage to myself, as I had at first supposed; a lady occupied the further end and at the first glance, spite of the dim light and the fact of her veil being down, saw that her eyes, unnaturally large and intense in their expression, were fixed upon me. l at all times prefer carriage to myself, and if a commanion I must have, let it be gentleman, not lady; but there was no help for it.; the lady was there, and more- over, she was looking at me- So she may, l said to myself; that shall not prevent my making myself as comfortable as circumstan- ces will allow Slowly and deliberately, therefore, l removed my hat, substituting for it cloth cap. which drew well down over my ears then folded my arms and com. posed myself to sleep. But in vain the eyes of my fellow passenger haunted me; 1 saw them as distinctly as if my own were open. Was she watching me still? Involuntarily looked up and round and my look met hers full, burning, intense with far more of mean ing in it than l could at all fathom. It was getting decidedly unpleasant, and I was growing decidedly uncomfortable; try as might, could not keep my eyes closed; hers were on me, and meet them must.
 In her attitude, too, as we'll as in her look, there was something strange and mysterious Huddled up in corner, she seemed to be holding something close pressed to her, be-: meath the long loose mourning cape, bending low over 1t in crOuching posture. Once or twice, her eyes still fixed upon mine, saw her shiver; but for that slight convulsive movement she sat perfectly still and notion less.
 Was she cold I offered her my plaid, glad of an opportunity to break the ominous si- lence. If she would but speak, make some commonplace remark, the spell might be broken.
 I am not cold
 A commonplace remark enough; but the spell was not broken. The mystery that lay in her eyes lay also in her voice.
 What should try next? I locked at my watch-11:3O; our train speeding on at fu- rious rate, no chance of stoppage for some time to come, and the full wide-open gaze of my motionless companion not for one moment removed from my face. It was unpleasant certainly. If changed my position, faced the window instead of her, she must remove her eyes from my face at Iast. But there was sort of fascination about her and her look, which preferred meeting to shirking, know ing that it was on me all the time.
 There was nothing for it, then, but to give up all hope of sleep, and make the best of my position and companion, whom now observ- ed more closely. That she was lady there could be little doubt; there was that in her dress and appearance that was unmistakable. That she was pretty, there could be little doubt either those great dark, intensely dark eyes, the thick coils of warm furnished hair, the small pale features, seen dimly beneath the veil; yes, she was young, pretty, lady, ana in trouble. So far got, but no further. How came she to be travelling alone at that time of night, and W ith that look on her face i? What could it be that she was holding pressed so closely to her, and yet SO carefully kept out ct sight? From the size and uncertain outline, should have guessed it to be a child; but, then, there was not the faintest motion, nor could she have held even a sleeping in- fant long in that position. think that some thing of curiosity must have been betrayed in my look, for her own darkened and deep ened into perfect agony of doubt and fear
 Ashamed, I withdrew my gaze at once, and drawing out my note book, was about to take memorandum, when, with sudden for ward movement, she fell at my feet, arresting my hand by the agonized grasp of her own, it's burning contact sending through me painful thrill
 Don't betray me Don't give me up to him don't 1 am SO fri ghtenedr It was but whisper, breathed out rather than spoken, yet it shuddered through me like cry.
 I cannot always hide it cannot always bear it about with me It breaks my heart, and-1 am SO tired
 And letting the hand which still held, pressed closely to her, the mysterious burden that had so raised my curiosity drop heavily to her side, there lay at her feet and mine a little dead baby, tiny creature evidently not many weeks old.
 Then the woman threw up her veil and, withdrawing her eyes for the first time from mine, clasped her hands before her, her fig ure thrown slightly back, and looked down upon 1t. pretty picture: the poor young mother, with her pale child's face and deep mourning dress the wee baby, gleaning so white in it's death and baby-robe against the heavy crape skirt on which it lay-a pretty picture certainly for a railway carriage, and aA hVi ito id ;rht
 Dead 7 was my involuntary exclamation.
 She stretched her clasped hands downward to ward it with despairing gesture, speak ing with low, wild, rapid utterance
 1t was not his look that killed 1t, but my love. He hated It, my baby, my first-born i; for all the love gave him. he hated it; held It in my arms, so close, so close, till it was dead. Oh, my baby, my baby
 The outstretched hands had reached it now, and raised it from the floor to the seat, fold ing it around until the enclosing arms and the down-b bent face hid it once more out of sight.
 Was ever luckless traveller more awkward ly placed ?-the dead child; the prOstrate woman; the scene public railway carriage the hour, midnight. am of blunt nature. Mrs. Merton often scolds me for my blunt, straightforward speeches; but then she has such pretty way of beating about the bush, which it would be as absurd for me to imi- tate as it was for the ass to mimic the tricks of his masters lapdog. I must go straight to the point as soon as ever I see it. did so now.
 How come you to be travelling alone, and with dead child Are you going home?'
 The question seemed to rouse her once more to perfect frenzy of fear. She turned to me as before, clinging to my hand with small hot
 
 Don't betray me- don't give me up to him His look would have killed my baby it would kill me if 1 had to meet it. She is safe, for killed her, and she is dead; and he hates me, and Ehave no home-no home!'
 l was in perfect maze of doubt. Could the pretty soft young creature at my feet be indeed murderess? and could it be her bus. band of whom she seemed in such abiect ter TOT My blood boiled; felt ready to defend her against a dozen husbands; but how Y?
 It vas midnight now; we could not be far