ad 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 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 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!"

His words seemed to draw the curtain away from her self-control.

"Oh, go on--for God's sake, go on!"

As they drew up beside the undamaged coach, the bearers had just
arrived with another body. Eleanor jumped down, rushed to the
platform. The thing under the blanket was a woman. She turned into the
coach, apprehension growing into certainty. She had not seen him in
the crowd. If he were unhurt, he must be first and foremost among the
workers.

The coach was a hospital--limp, bandaged people propped up on every
seat; in a little space by the further door, a row of quiet figures
which lay as though sleeping. Above them bent two men. Their
business-like calm showed that they were physicians. The half of her
which stood aloof, observing all things, wondering at all