But soon they were going so fast that he ceased to hold his watch up to the thick glass lamp in the roof, and he missed count of the places, unable to tell one from the other, seeing merely a streak of light directly after the warning shriek of the engine had told of their coming. And now, as he threw himself back and began to think once more of his trouble, the roar and beat of the engine resolved itself into the words that had troubled him before; and, with feelings of anguish that he could not express, he sat listening to the reiteration--"In the midst of life we are in death,"--"In the midst of life we are in death!"--and, with a groan of anguish, he bent down and wept like a child. But for the relief those tears afforded his throbbing brain, he would soon have been suffering from fever. The relief was but short, though, and he rose to gaze out of the window at the thick gloom. Then, removing his hat, he lowered the glass and leaned out, letting the cold night air blow upon his heated face as the train rushed on. All was black darkness, save the glow shed by the rushing train; and he could make out nothing but that they were dashing on at a frightful pace, seeming to tear up the very earth as they thundered along. Once or twice speed was slackened, with the engine whistle sounding loudly; and, looking out, he could see far ahead a red point of light, which, as they neared it, changed into a green, when, with a triumphant shriek, the special glided on once more, and they swept by a station and a hissing engine attached to some long goods train, whose guard stood by with a lantern in his hand, fresh from the operation of shunting to allow them to pass. "Faster, faster!" Tom began repeating to himself, as, in spite of his efforts to master the fancy, he kept hearing the words into which the noise of the train resolved itself; though, as he leaned out again, he felt a sensation of joy, for he was being borne nearer and nearer to where his darling lay. Then he would walk to and fro in the narrow space that formed the saloon carriage, the difficulty of preserving his balance taking up some of his attention, and relieving his mind from its dreadful strain. But it always came back to his throwing himself back on a seat, to listen to those dreadful words; and at such times he was for ever seeing the open grave and the funeral procession, and in a despair that was almost maddening he, told himself that by his folly he had dashed away the cup of happiness from his lips, and that if Jessie died he would be little better than a murderer.