The Dewsbury Chronicle, and West Riding Advertiser. — 1873-02-15 (Dewsbury, West Yorkshire, England)

THE DEWSBURY CHRONICLE, SATURDAY, FEB/WAR. 15, 1873.  "Has a telegram come for me?" I repeated impatiently.  " that name, miss?" To be called " miss" too ! Before, however, I could answer him, I beard a loud voice, a few carriages from mine asking— "ls there a lady here named Douglas?" I could scarcely restrain myself from bursting out of the carriage. He came nearer, asking as he came. I leaned out, and, as the man stood opposite me, almost snatched what I rightly guessed to be a telegram out of his hands. _ _ _ .  "Yes !" I answered explaining, "my name is Douglas. Open the door, please, and take out my things." Little fool that I was! Why did I not carefully read the telegram first? I only glanced at the commencement of the message :—" Am coming by next train." When all my things were taken out of the carriage, (as for the heavy luggage, I' forgot that entirely), when the train had begun to move—in fact, when it was too late— I read the remainder of the telegram, which ran thus "Wait for me at Paddington." It was only the presence of numerous passengers and porters on the platform that prevented me. there and then, from bursting into tears. I restrained myself, and the bitterness was the more bitter. What was to be done? When did the next train pass through Dicicot ? In about an hour. Of course it stopped? "No ; that's the fast train through—only stops at Swindon and Reading," was the consoling answer I received to my enquiries. I could not leave Didcot for nearly two hours. At this I retired to the waiting-room, and sitting down in a dark corner, gave way. I couldn't help it. This was my marriage day. And my darling was not with me. Perhaps I should never see him again. Perhaps there would be an accident. Perhaps—perhaps—and my fears came afresh ; and I sat in my misery, feeling utterly lost and forsaken ; and as different a creature from the happy bride of a few short hours ago as could possibly be conceived. Presently a porter came in to light the gas. It was quite dark by this time. I asked him to call me when the express was coming. The man eyed me as if he suspected contemplated suicide. I satisfied neither his surmises nor suspicions. I would have an eager gaze at the train as it passed; perhaps I might get a glimpse of my darling. The time went slowly by, and I sat fiercely staring at .the fire through my tears. At last the porter called me. "Now, miss !"—miss again !—"the express is coming." I rushed out. I took up my position where a miserable lamp cast a sickly glare—the best in the station—on the line where the train must pass. On it came—the two great red lamps on the engine shining like giants' eyes in the night. I bent eagerly forward, in spite of the warnings of the suspicious porter, who seemed determined to keep an eye on me. One by one the lighted carriages went by. Not there! Not there! Not there! Quicker than it takes to describe this, the last carriage whizzed by. And there, against the window, I saw my darling's profile. He was staring straight before him, moodily I,erusing the hat-rack. At least this was my impression from the momentary glimpse I got. Of course he did not see me, his poor, loving, foolish little wife, standing on the bleak Didcot platform, in the darkening night. He could not know how, with sinking heart, I got back to the dingy waiting-room, back to my chair and my tears. And this was my wedding day! It was about eight o'clock. I stood on the Paddington platform. The weary waiting was at length over. I should take a cab to our hotel, and find my darling. When I came to take out my traps, I found my travelling-beg was missing. I must have left ,;it at Didcot. And all my keys and money were in it! After endless trouble, I found the guard in charge of the down-train, which was just on the point of starting. I gave him instructions, and he promised me my bag, if it was to be found, early the next morning. Having ,given the name of my hotel, and a substantial assistance to his memory, I stood absently watching the departing train, while a porter put my things in a cab; when there, in a first-class carriage, in the act of wrapping himself in a rug, was Fred, going back in search of his lost little wife! •  Fred! Fred !" I screamed, regardless of appearances; and with outstretched bands I rushed towards the carriage window. My foot slipped, my head seemed to be whirling round, and I fell. A surging noise thundered in my ears, and then a voice sail— "Well, little darling, what's the matter ?" • " Where are we?" I gasped. " Closo to Paddington," laughed Fred. "Feel better after your nap, darling ?" So I had only been asleep and dreaming !—Once a