CHAPTER IV.A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
It was a great relief to Virgie to know that the Heaths were gone, for now she would be perfectly free from all restraint and could go about as much as she desired without the fear of encountering them.
She remained a fortnight at the falls, visiting every place of interest in the vicinity, and making many beautiful sketches. Then she turned her face westward and northward, following the great lakes, intending to see much of the scenery of Michigan and Wisconsin before her season of travel should end.
She traveled very leisurely, never hurrying from place to place, for she strove to get all the enjoyment possible out of her tours, both for herself and her little girl, who was never happier than when journeying in this easy way.
But once they were obliged to ride all night. It was not often that Virgie would allow herself to do this, for they could not rest well upon the cars, but in this instance it seemed to be necessary in order to make connections.
She retired early for the sake of little Virgie, who was nervous at being on the train at night, they taking the lower berth of their section, while the maid occupied the upper one.
Virgie was very weary and soon dropped asleep without a thought of danger or of the terrible tragedy that was so soon to send a score of those thoughtless travelersinto eternity, maim as many more for life, and stamp every memory with a never-to-be-forgotten horror.
Virgie did not know how long she had slept, when she became conscious of several heavy thuds against the bottom of the car she was in, accompanied by violent jerks and wrenches, and a swaying from side to side; then it seemed as if they were being thrown into space; there was one awful moment of horror and suspense, then a terrible crash, mingled with shrieks, and groans, and prayers; after that darkness and oblivion.
When she came to herself again it was to find her little daughter clinging to her in an agony of terror, calling piteously to her to “wake up and take her out of that dreadful place.”
She tried to sit up, but found that she could not, there was barely space between her own and the upper berth to admit of her moving at all. To make the situation even more appalling it was as dark as Erebus, while the cries for help and the shrieks of pain all around her filled her with a sickening horror, and she knew there had been a dreadful disaster.
“Are you hurt, darling?” she asked, an agony of dread at her heart, and her relief was almost as intense when the reply came:
“No, mamma, only so frightened by the dreadful noises.”
Virgie had not removed her clothing, simply loosened it, and now it was the work of but a moment or two to gather her wraps about her, fold a shawl around Virgie and help her from the berth, though she found great difficulty in standing erect, for the car had been thrown partly upon its side.
She called to her maid; but there was no reply, and, fearing the worst for the poor girl, Virgie resolved toget her darling out of danger and then return to see what she could do for her unconscious servant.
They worked their way out of the car with difficulty, realizing as they did so that the portion where they had been was the least shattered of any—that they had been wonderfully preserved.
Virgie emerged from the debris as well as she could, and found herself in a swamp. She could now account for that sensation of being thrown into space, and the awful moment of suspense following before that terrible crash had come; the train had been pitched from its roadbed, she did not know how many feet above, and now lay a mass of ruins in a bog or meadow.
She bore Virgie to more solid ground, set her down by some bushes, and then, throwing her own mantle over her, bade her not move from that spot until she came back to her again.
“Oh! don’t go back again, mamma,” cried the child, clinging to her in terror.
“I must, darling,” Virgie answered, firmly. “I cannot leave Mina to die there. Be a brave little girl and do not detain me. I will come back as soon as I can.”
“But I am afraid, mamma.”
“Nothing can harm you now, dear; we are both safe, thank God! while no one can tell how many have met their doom and are dead or dying.”
She bent down and kissed the child tenderly, thankfully, and then sped back to the car, determined to know the fate of her maid.
All about her the direst confusion prevailed. Men were hurrying hither and thither. Women were weeping and moaning, and wandering about calling piteously for lost ones, while children were screaming with fright and pain.
It was lighter now, for two of the cars were burning,having taken fire from overturned lamps, and Virgie made her way more easily back into the sleeper she had left.
“Mina! Mina!” she called, springing toward the berth she occupied, and to her intense relief a muffled sound came back in reply, and she knew that she was not dead.
She found that the top of her car had been smashed in, and the girl, thus pinioned to her berth, was half-suffocated by the pressure from above.
Virgie never could tell afterward how she managed to release her, but by dint of encouragement and commands she succeeded in making the girl exert herself, and, using all her own strength, she by degrees got her to the edge of the berth and finally out of it.
“Are you badly hurt Mina?” she asked, as she supported the half-fainting girl, and wrapped a blanket around her trembling form.
“Yes, marm, my left arm is dreadful,” the girl moaned, and Virgie could feel that it hung limp and helplessly by her side, and she knew it was broken.
“Well, we must hurry out of the car, for it is filling with smoke, and I fear has taken fire somewhere,” she said.
They were just turning to leave the place when, from the very midst of the smoke there pealed forth a heartrending shriek:
“Help! help! Will no one save me?”
Virgie felt every nerve in her body creep at the sound.
“Oh, some poor creature is there, and will be burned to death if help does not come. What shall we do?” she cried.
Clearly Mina could do nothing with her broken arm, for she was moaning with every breath, and there was no one else at hand; every one who was able had desertedthe car long since, and was either looking out for number one or assisting others elsewhere; but Virgie felt that she could not leave the sufferer, whoever it might be, to the terrible fate of being burned to death.
She helped Mina from the car, told her where she would find little Virgie, and then she flew back to find the origin of that pitiful cry for help.
“Where are you?” she called, as she groped her way toward the spot from whence it had seemed to proceed.
“Here. Oh! come quickly! I am almost suffocated! I shall be burned alive!” was the agonized response, accompanied by groans of pain.
It was a woman, Virgie knew by the tones, and all her sympathies were instantly aroused.
She found her at last, and her heart sank within her as she saw her condition, for the poor creature was wedged between a demolished berth and the side of the car in such a way that it seemed impossible to rescue her.
It was a sickening sight, for, already, Virgie could see little tongues of flame leaping up all about her and shooting out toward her as if eager for their prey, while the smoke was rapidly growing denser.
The woman saw it, too, and her face was almost convulsed with agony and fear.
“Oh, do help me,” she prayed. “I shall be burned. I cannot die such a horrible death.”
Virgie felt that she was powerless—she knew that she could not so much as stir that mass of debris.
“I will go and call some one,” she said.
“No, no! You shall not leave me,” screamed the woman, frantic with terror.
“Madam,” Virgie returned, calmly but firmly, “it is impossible for me to do anything for you unaided. The best I can do will be to go for help; but first tell me whoyou are in case anything should happen to you before I can return.”
“I am Lady Linton. I live in Hampshire County, England, and am just on a visit to this country with my son and daughter, and some other friends, who are now awaiting me in Chicago. Now go—go and save me if you can.”
It would be difficult to portray with what stunning force these sentences fell upon the ears of Virginia Alexander.
Her heart almost ceased beating, while a thousand thoughts went flashing with lightning-like rapidity through her brain.
She had recently avoided a meeting as she supposed, with Sir William Heath; and had now encountered in this marvelous way his sister—the woman who had written those cruel letters to Mrs. Farnum so many years ago, but which were still stamped upon her brain so indelibly that she could repeat them word for word. This was the woman who had scorned her claims upon her brother—who had heartlessly advised her to “settle in some place where she was not known and try to bring up her child in a respectable way,” who had insulted her by sending her a hundred pounds to soothe her disappointment for the loss of her husband and because she could not be recognized as the mistress of Heathdale; and now she lay crushed beneath a mass of ruins, doomed to a dreadful death unless the very woman she had so wronged and mocked should strain every effort to save her. It was truly a strange fate that placed her thus in the power of Virgie.
For an instant an evil spirit took possession of her heart and whispered:
“She helped to ruin my life; she mocked and scoffed at my misery, and she ought to suffer.”
But the next moment she called out in clear, resolute tones:
“I will save you! have courage—do not fear,” and she almost flew over the debris, through the gathering smoke and out of the car, where she seized a man by the arm and cried:
“Come with me; a woman is helplessly pinned down inside this car; it is on fire, and she will soon be burned to death.”
She dragged him almost by main force into the burning wreck, and made her way back to the spot where she had left her suffering foe.
“I can never get her out of there—ten men couldn’t do it before we should all perish,” said her companion, when he saw her situation.
“Youmust! I tell you sheshallbe saved!” Virgie cried, almost savagely, and, seizing hold of one of the fallen timbers in her excitement, she gave it a wrench which told, and showed that it was not impossible as it had first appeared to rescue the unhappy victim.
Thus inspired and encouraged, the man braced himself and pulled with all his might at the berth in which the woman lay. It yielded; they knew they would save her.
A fearful shriek rent the air; then all was still.
“Oh! pull her out. I can brace this beam for a moment,” Virgie cried, and calling all her strength and will to her aid, she did actually brace herself against one of those heavy timbers, holding it back, until the man dragged the unfortunate woman from her perilous situation, and then, gathering her all unconscious, in his arms, he staggered out of the now rapidly burning car,closely followed by Virgie, who had barely strength enough left to reach the open air.
“Lend a hand here, somebody,” cried her companion, and three or four helpers sprang forward to relieve him of his burden, when he turned and caught the brave woman, who had risked her own life to save that of an enemy, just as her strength failed her and she would have fallen senseless, back into the burning wreck.
The account of her heroism flew from lip to lip, and many willing hands were stretched forth to minister to her. Restoratives were brought, a physician was called to attend her, and it was not many minutes before she rallied, although she was as weak as a little child from the terrible strain during those last few moments in the burning car.
But she refused all attention now.
“I do not suffer—I am uninjured; I am only temporarily exhausted. Go to those who need you,” she said, and creeping to the spot where she had left her child, she gathered her close in her arms and burst into a passion of thankful tears—thankful, not only because they had been spared unharmed to each other, but because she had been enabled to obey the divine mandate “Do good unto them which hate you,” and though Lady Linton might never knowwhohad saved her—might never experience an atom of gratitude to her whom she had wronged, yetshewould always have the blessed consciousness of evil resisted and a noble action performed.