It was a presumption on my part. I acknowledged frankly that it was a

presumption. I was a young doctor, with nothing to distinguish me from

the ruck of young doctors. And she was--well, she was one of those

rare and radiant beings to whom even monarchs bow, and the whole earth

offers the incense of its homage.

Which did not in the least alter the fact that I was in love with her.

And, after all, she was just a woman; more, she was a young woman. And

she had consulted me! She had allowed me to be of use to her! And,

months ago in London, had she not permitted me to talk to her with an

extraordinary freedom? Lovely, incomparable, exquisite as she was, she

was nevertheless a girl, and I was sure that she had a girl's heart.

However, it was a presumption.

I remembered her legendary engagement to Lord Clarenceux, an

engagement which had interested all Europe. I often thought of that

matter. Had she loved him--really loved him? Or had his love for her

merely flattered her into thinking that she loved him? Would she not

be liable to institute comparisons between myself and that renowned,

wealthy, and gifted nobleman?

Well, I did not care if she did. Such is the egoism of untried love

that I did not care if she did! And I lapsed into a reverie--a reverie

in which everything went smoothly, everything was for the best in the

best of all possible worlds, and only love and love's requital

existed....

Then, in the fraction of a second, as it seemed, there was a grating,

a horrible grind of iron, a bump, a check, and my head was buried in

the cushions of the opposite side of the carriage, and I felt

stunned--not much, but a little.

"What--what?" I heard myself exclaim. "They must have plumped the

brakes on pretty sudden."

Then, quite after an interval, it occurred to me that this was a

railway accident--one of those things that one reads of in the papers

with so much calmness. I wondered if I was hurt, and why I could hear

no sound; the silence was absolute--terrifying.

In a vague, aimless way, I sought for my matchbox, and struck a

light. I had just time to observe that both windows were smashed, and

the floor of the compartment tilted, when the match went out in the

wind. I had heard no noise of breaking glass.

I stumbled slowly to the door, and tried to open it, but the thing

would not budge. Whereupon I lost my temper.

"Open, you beast, you beast, you beast!" I cried to the door, kicking

it hard, and yet not feeling the impact.

Then another thought--a proud one, which served to tranquillize me: "I

am a doctor, and they will want me to attend to the wounded."




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