Suddenly a look of horror came over her face. “Oh, he's fallen down on the rails!” she cried, and darted past me at a speed that quite defied the hasty effort I made to stop her. But the wheezy old Station-Master happened to be close behind me: he wasn't good for much, poor old man, but he was good for this; and, before I could turn round, he had the child clasped in his arms, saved from the certain death she was rushing to. So intent was I in watching this scene, that I hardly saw a flying figure in a light grey suit, who shot across from the back of the platform, and was on the line in another second. So far as one could take note of time in such a moment of horror, he had about ten clear seconds, before the Express would be upon him, in which to cross the rails and to pick up Bruno. Whether he did so or not it was quite impossible to guess: the next thing one knew was that the Express had passed, and that, whether for life or death, all was over. When the cloud of dust had cleared away, and the line was once more visible, we saw with thankful hearts that the child and his deliverer were safe. “All right!” Eric called to us cheerfully, as he recrossed the line. “He's more frightened than hurt!” {Image...Crossing the line} He lifted the little fellow up into Lady Muriel's arms, and mounted the platform as gaily as if nothing had happened: but he was as pale as death, and leaned heavily on the arm I hastily offered him, fearing he was about to faint. “I'll just--sit down a moment--” he said dreamily: “--where's Sylvie?” Sylvie ran to him, and flung her arms round his neck, sobbing as if her heart would break. “Don't do that, my darling!” Eric murmured, with a strange look in his eyes. “Nothing to cry about now, you know. But you very nearly got yourself killed for nothing!” “For Bruno!” the little maiden sobbed. “And he would have done it for me. Wouldn't you, Bruno?” “Course I would!” Bruno said, looking round with a bewildered air. Lady Muriel kissed him in silence as she put him down out of her arms. Then she beckoned Sylvie to come and take his hand, and signed to the children to go back to where the Earl was seated. “Tell him,” she whispered with quivering lips, “tell him--all is well!” Then she turned to the hero of the day. “I thought it was death,” she said. “Thank God, you are safe! Did you see how near it was?” “I saw there was just time,” Eric said lightly. “A soldier must learn to carry his life in his hand, you know. I'm all right now. Shall we go to the telegraph-office again? I daresay it's come by this time.” I went to join the Earl and the children, and we waited--almost in silence, for no one seemed inclined to talk, and Bruno was half-asleep on Sylvie's lap--till the others joined us. No telegram had come. “I'll take a stroll with the children,” I said, feeling that we were a little de trop, “and I'll look in, in the course of the evening.”