IN A THIRD-CLASS CARRIAGE.
"Kate--I can't sing any more--I'm just tired out with happiness."
"Cuddle up against me, darling, and try and go to sleep then."
"Then, dear Kate," said Frances, earnestly, "will you _promise_ to tell
me all about the next stations, and the green fields, and the sheep,
and the cows, and the people hay-making, and the dear little white
houses. And I will dream about the sea. Oh, I am so glad that you and
I are going to the sea."
So the little head with its mass of golden brown hair found a
resting-place on Kate's shoulder, and silence reigned for a time. And
Kate, her arm round the sleeping child, watched those green fields
flooded with summer sunlight with thoughts so new and strange that
often the tears would come into her eyes. She could not quite
understand this new life yet, but somehow, since the day when the
fast-closed door was unlocked, and the Friend admitted, she had found
all her old restlessness and her hard thoughts of life vanish, and deep
peace and love had come in their place.
"Is it a station?" said a little dreamy voice at length, and the brown
head moved uneasily. "Please tell me when there's something to be seen
besides 'Colman's Mustard.'"
"There _is_ something!" cried Kate, breathlessly, "there is, Oh,
Frances, such a beautiful face!"
Little Frances was on her feet in a moment, and rushed to the farther
window. Before the train had quite stopped, her head was such a long
way out that an old German from the next window shouted to her, "If you
do not take care, Miss, some fine morning you vill get up vidout your
head."
"I see her," said Frances, turning round to Kate, "all in grey, with a
very, very large bunch of roses in her hands. Now she is talking to
three big brothers. Now the big brothers are carrying all her things;
books, and a bag, and a basket, and a cloak, and a parasol, and a funny
stick with wires in it."
"Lawn-tennis racket," suggested Kate, who knew country ways.
"There is a funny old woman with a hook nose walking with them, and now
the big brothers are laughing and talking to her."
"Maybe she's the old nurse," remarked Kate.
"They are coming our way; oh, do you think she will get into our
carriage?"
"No, she'll travel first-class," said Kate, with a little sigh.
"No, no, I can hear them speak of travelling third. Kate, put your old
hat straight on your head. Tie my blue tie--quick, please!"
The arrangements were scarcely completed when a young man's face
appeared at the window, and soon after they heard a voice: "I say,
Violet, if you really mean to travel third, you and Nanny had better
get in there. There's only a poor girl with crutches and one other
child."
"All right, Dick; help Nanny up first, and give her a corner seat with
my cloak behind her. Now Nanny, darling, lean on his arm."
"Put Nanny facing the engine, or she'll think she's going the wrong
way," shouted another voice, and a peal of laughter followed.. The old
woman after some difficulty was safely landed inside the carriage. The
brothers, carrying the things, followed. Violet with her great bunch
of roses came last.
It was quite new to poor Kate to hear brothers and sisters laughing and
joking together. She could not half understand the little jokes that
passed, but she liked to listen. The musical voices and the ringing
laughter seemed to do her good.
And Violet all the time was conscious of a great pair of wistful eyes
fixed on hers. As soon as the final good-bye to the brothers had been
said, and the train was really off, she whispered something to Nanny,
and began unfastening her bunch of roses. Nanny, meanwhile, bent
forward towards Kate: "You've been ill, my dears," she said.
"We've both been run over," said Kate.
"Eh, dearie me, now! to think of that!" said the old woman,
sympathisingly. "And you were hurt a great deal, I daresay."
"I lost my leg," said Kate.
"Well, now, I can feel for you there,--not as I ever lost one of mine,
as is as good as ever,--but I as good as lost one in Mr. Fred. You
remember, Miss Violet, my dear, that summer when he fell from the apple
tree, and the doctor said as he'd never seen such a leg. Dearie me,
what a sight of trouble we had with him to be sure!"
Violet had risen from her seat, and came towards the two poor girls.
"I want you to let me pin some of these roses in your dresses," she
said, brightly. "They are so sweet. Do you care for flowers?"
"I do. Thank you, Miss, very much." Kate lifted her head, and for a
moment the two girls looked each other full in the face. Such a
contrast they were! Violet all glowing with life and happiness and
beauty; and Kate with her old, sad face, and pathetic, dark eyes.
"Nanny, dear," said Violet, turning to the old nurse; "don't you think
my other cloak would make quite a nice soft cushion? Do reach it
over," and in one moment more poor Kate, who, truth to say, was getting
very weary with her journey, found something that she could lean her
tired back against with comfort.
Violet went back to her seat, and for some little time sat still, with
a book in her hand but her eyes kept wandering off to the two poor
girls in the farther corner. After old Nanny had fallen asleep, Violet
at length came and sat next the girls.
"Do you mind my asking,--are you sisters?" she asked, in her soft voice.
"No, Miss," said Kate. "It pleased God to take my little sister. And
this is a little girl He sent me instead, when my heart was pretty nigh
broken."
"You've had great trouble," said Violet.
"It's not so long ago that I was near drowning myself," said Kate.
A look of great compassion came into Violet's face as these words were
said. She only answered quietly: "Shall I tell you a true story? A
lady one evening who was walking over a bridge in London, saw a poor
man leaning over a parapet, and he had such a sad look in his face that
she felt sure he meant to drown himself. She didn't like to speak to
him; but, as she passed by, she said these words out loud, 'There is a
river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God.' And long
after they met, and he recognised her and said, 'You saved my life,'
and told her that that night he had had the fullest intention of
drowning himself. I think her words had made him suddenly remember
another city besides London, and another river besides the dark, gloomy
Thames rolling away beneath his feet."
She waited a moment to see if Kate had taken in the little story, and
what effect it was having upon her. Kate's head was bent down, and she
had fast hold of little Frances' hand.
"Like enough the city and the river made him think of Christ," she
said. "I couldn't drown myself now, Miss,--not if it was ever so,--for
His sake I couldn't. And if I had to be miserable all the rest of my
life, it seems to me it would be worth while to have lived to have
known the love of Christ even for five minutes."
"And it isn't only for five minutes," said Violet, in a low voice, her
eyes glowing, "but for ever and for ever. This is only the beginning."
They were silent for some moments, and then Violet's gentle questions
called out much of the history of Kate's sad life. They were learning
from each other, those two girls. Kate learned what sympathy may do,
and a deep desire to minister to others sprang up within her. Violet
learned how dull and sad and surrounded with dangers the lives of many
girls in our great cities are, and the knowledge gave rise to new
prayers and plans and work in her future life.
A cathedral town came in sight. Violet, starting up, woke old Nanny,
and then began quickly putting together books and cloaks. Only a few
minutes more, and she was standing with outstretched hand at the door
of the railway carriage.
"Good-bye, good-bye," she said. "Do write and tell me how you and
little Frances like the sea-side. I hope it will do you good," and she
was gone. Kate and Frances watched with eager eyes till the tall
graceful figure of the girl and the bent figure of the old woman were
lost to sight in the crowded station.
"Do you think we shall ever see her again?" said little Frances.
"Perhaps," said Kate, "we shall have to wait till we reach the Golden
City."