No one heeded her of the few who were waiting, no one spoke; and at last came the faint and distant sound of the panting train, nearer, nearer, nearer. Would she escape, or would she be stayed before she could take her place? It might have been thought that she would feel, if not betray, some excitement; but no; she stood motionless, not even seeming to hear the coming train: it was as though she were moved by some power independent of her own will. There was the ringing of the bell, the altering of a distance signal, and the train gliding up to the platform, as a farming-looking man drew the attention of another to a gentleman running swiftly a quarter of a mile down the road. "He'll be too late, safe." "Ah!" said the other. "And they won't wait for him; for they're very particular here since the row was made about the accident being through the bad time-keeping of the trains." "Look at him, how he's waving his hat!" said the first speaker. "He's running too, and no mistake. Why, it's that dandy swell fellow that's staying at Linton's, where his wife's ill." "Serve him right too," said the other. "Why wasn't he in better time? Those swells are always behindhand." "Now then, all going on!" cried a voice; and the two men stepped into a second-class carriage, against the door of which, and looking towards the booking-office, Ella was already seated, cold, fixed, and apparently perfectly insensible to what was going on. "Cold day, miss," said the man who took his seat opposite to her; but there was no reply, and the next moment the man's attention was caught by what took place at the booking-office door. Max Bray dashed panting up as the guard sounded his whistle, but only to find the glass door fastened, when, evidently half wild with excitement, he beat at the panels, gesticulating furiously as he saw the train begin slowly to move, and Ella seated at one window. She could have seen him too, for her face was turned towards him; she must have heard his cries for the door to be opened; but she did not start, she did not shrink back; and now, mad almost with rage and disappointment, Max Bray forgot all about telegraphs surpassing trains, everything, in the sight of his prize escaping from within his fingers; and for what? To expose his cruel duplicity. It would be ruin, he felt, and he must reach her at all hazards. Turning, then, from the door, he ran along by the station to where a wooden palisade bounded the platform, and as the train was slowly gliding by him, he climbed over to reach the ground before the carriage containing Ella had passed. "Stop him!" shouted the station-master; and the guard, who had run and leaped into his van, stood pointing out the breaker of rules as he paused for a few moments upon his step.