"My poor darling! my poor darling!" he moaned; and then her sweet, pensive eyes seemed to look up in his, and he was once again with her in the days of their early love, "And are those times never to come back again?" he asked aloud; to get back for answer the constant dull repetition, "In the midst of life we are in death,"--"In the midst of life we are in death," till he groaned in the anguish of his heart. Onward still, with a rush and a roar, through tunnels, with a quick, sharp crash as if wood and brickwork had come into contact; and then on again. Over bridges, with a strange quivering vibration, and a dull metallic roar, and on again through the black darkness, till the engine began to shriek once more, the speed slackened, grew slower and slower, and ended by the little train pulling up alongside a platform. The guard was at the door as Tom let down the window, and met his question with-- "Tunbridge, sir. Take in water. Engine's been detached. Back directly." "Don't lose a moment." "No, sir. Like to get out, sir?" "No." Tom threw himself back in his seat, and waited impatiently what seemed an hour, but was really only five minutes; when, just as he was rising to thrust his head out of the window, there was a slight concussion, the rattle of chains, and he knew the engine was once more attached. "Right away!" A whistle from the guard, an answering shriek from the engine, and they glided along the platform, while the night porter on duty looked curiously at the carriage where the young man sat, after giving the signal to start; and in a few minutes, always gathering speed, away they went once more, faster and faster, into the darkness of the night. It was refreshing to feel the wind blowing against his cheeks, even though at times he could hardly get his breath; but as he gazed forward it was almost with a feeling of wonder that they had had no accident, so black was all ahead. From time to time a goods train dashed by them in the opposite direction, while as often they rushed by carriages which stood in sidings until those on their urgent way had passed. At last, after trying all he could to contain himself, and grow calm and fit to see the poor sufferer whom he feared to encounter, he sat in despair listening to the dreadful fancied utterances of the train. With a prayer on his lips that it might not be too late, he lowered the window on the other side, and gazed out through the darkness in the direction that he believed to be the one where Jessie lay. "We must be near now," he felt; and he began to look out eagerly for the town, which once reached, his journey would soon be ended. They seemed to be going at a tremendous speed; and, once more returning to his seat, he was in the act of taking out his watch, when the whistle began to pierce the black night air; and directly after, there was a sharp crash, a stunning blow, the end of the saloon carriage seemed to come suddenly upon him, and he knew no more.