LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 808, 24 January 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

RUTH DARNEL’S REVENGE. (Concluded.') Part 11. j Every one said that, sooner or later, the ! ‘ Rapid Russian,’ for that was the nickname I of the quickest express train which ran upon ] a certain long line of railway, would ‘ come to grief.’ That was the opinion of the ; villagers who stood on the platforms of small • wayside stations when the Russian flew past I disdainfully ; when they saw it come tearj ing along the line, dashing round the curves : and rattling over the points with a roar and i a clatter that almost; deafened you, and ; leaving a series of miniature whirlwinds j behind it, wherein the dust and leaves j circled for some moments after the train had j passed. If anything was to give way, or if | a certain part of the line, of which a Govern- . ment inspector had spoken somewhat harshly \ some years ago, were to become any worse, • it was clear to every one that a catastrophe 1 would happen which would stand out as one of the most terrible ever recorded in the ' annals of railway accidents. But in spite of these predictions, and of , newspaper paragraphs advising the directors : not to run the Russian at such a pace, the public still patronised the train. We are in such a hurry nowadays that we cheerfully risk our lives in order to gain a little more time for the business of life, and no warning will ever prevent people doing so. The im- , patience of the public creates a desire for ; these very fast trains, and the managers of . railways can only yield to the demand. And one fine morning the smash did hap- ■ pen. The‘Russian’Rft London, perfectly ' appointed, as usual, on a bright morning in i winter, and flew through the snowy land- | scape at its accustomed pace. The passen- : gers, snugly wrapped up in furs and rugs, i sat luxuriously in the carriages and discussed . the last new novel or the news in the papers; the pleasant sense of exhilaration which accompanies very rapid travelling being heightened by the brilliant sunshine on the snow, and all the glories of a fine winter morning.

Suddenly, without the least wai’ning, the tire of a wheel broke, one of the foremost carriages flew off the line, and with a terrific oscillation the whole train followed it down a steep embankment, and came crashing on a low wall at the bottom. Then the sunshine seemed to fade out of the landscape, shrieks of agony and low moans filled the startled air, and the fair white snow was pitifully stained with blood. * * * * Ruth Darnel and her mother lived in a quiet cottage not far from the scene of this accident, which took place near a little village, and to Mrs Darnel’s one of the sufferers, a man sorely injured, who could be moved no farther, was conveyed. Many a house in the village had a strange inmate that night, and the people vied with each other in offering shelter to the unfortunate victims of the accident. Ten years have elapsed since we saw Ruth Darnel dismiss her fickle lover, and those years have been very bitter ones to her. For hers was one of those intense natures which do not readily forget, and the iron had entered deeply into her Ko.nl, She had loved well and fervently, and that love, she told herself, had, been scorned. So she had resolved ta steel her heart against love in the future, and though several men had evinced a disposition to make love to her, they very soon found out that her buried hopes barred them from Ruth Darnel’s heart.

And how did she feel towards Reginald Tremaine ? The most passionate resentment softens to some extent with the lapse of years, and certainly she did not feel so bitterly towards him now as she had done just after that terrible interview in the old days. Rut nevertheless deep in her heart there were at times very hard and revengeful hidings towards him, feelings which she tried to stifle and keep down, but which would sway her like the suggestions of an evil spirit. There is nothing so easy to preach and so hard to practise as forgiveness for injuries, and in certain moods, as she confessed to herself with shame, Ruth Darnel had not forgiven Reginald Tremaine. On the day of the terrible railway acci dent Ruth Darnel was away from home on a visit, but waa to return in a few days.

Before that time Mrs Darnel had made a strange discovery and taken a resolution. As the reader will probably have guessed, the injured passenger who had been thrown upon Mrs Darnel’s hands was none othex than Reginald Tremaine. After all these years he had, by the irony of fate, returned to them in this fashion. He was unconscious, and so severely injured about his head that the doctors feared he would lose his sight, while one leg was broken. Mrs Darnel was much startled at first, but of course she took the patient in, and when the surgeons had put himtobed she resolved upon two things. In the first place, she determined not to lot Reginald Tremaine know whose house he was in ; and there was true womanly charity in that, for the knowledge would most probably have precluded all possibility of his recovery. In the second place, she settled not to tell Ruth whom chance had cast in their way until she returned. Surely any revengeful feelings would die out of her heart when she saw her former lover in so sore a plight. Ruth Darnel came home, and her first question was naturally regarding the new inmate of her mother’s cottage. ‘ Well, mamma,’ she said, ‘ and how is your poor patient ? By the way, you never told me his name. What a terrible business it must have been ! ’

‘ I never told you his name, Ruth, as I did net want to shock you, for it is some one you know.’ * What 1 one of our neighbours ?’ ‘ I ought rather to say, some one you once knew. ’

‘ Mamma !’ lEuth Darnel’s lips parted, and her face turned pale, and then she said very quietly, ‘ May I go up and see him ?’ ‘lf you wish it,’ said her mother; and Ruth went up-stairs. Reginald Tremaine lay, curtained from the light, at the point of death. He was still only partially sensible, and his mind wandered a great deal, while the doctors could not yet give any decisive opinion as to his eyesight. His bruised and battered face was covered up, and he was moaning in a fitful sleep. Ruth Darnel advanced to the bed, drew aside the curtain, and gazed upon the man who had deserted her, and whom, she told herself, she hated. At first she started back iu horror at the terrible picture he pre sented, with the bloodstains and the surgical bandages, and then a strange revulsion of feeling came over her.

Was this the man she had hated ? was this the man she had left in scorn ? Where was her hatred now, so near, as it seemed, to the presence of death ? She did not ask herself whether he had ever married, nor why he had been content to leave her all these years. She only knew that he was stricken down, and from that moment Ruth Darnel took upon herself the task of nursing Reginald Tremaine,

How unwearyingly and how devotedly she did it, only she herself could have told. She was the means, under Providence, of saving his life. And he had a hard fight. After many weary weeks of illness he was still very weak, and hardly able to move, nor had he regained his eyesight. He had never, so it seemed, recognised Ruth’s voice, and in answer to his question as to where he was, the name of the villager from whom Mrs Darnel rented the cottage had been given. At the time she had been nursing him one haunting thought occupied Ruth Darnel’s mind—had Reginald Tremaine been married or not?

She was satisfied he was not married now, for he had held no communication with any * one but his bankers and a distant cousin, j who, being laid up with illness, was unable j to come and see him. While Ruth told her- - self that it was of no moment to her, she } was intensely curious on the point. But in | all their conversations, they had never ap- \ preached the subject. It was inevitable too that some of the old [ tenderness should revive now that Reginald I was so dependent on her, but she persuaded J herself it was only due to his illness. It I seemed inevitable too that he should know who had sheltered him before he departed, J or was she to let him leave her without a ; sign? The explanation was precipitated by a • conversation which took place when he was \ recovering. j

Reginald was able to sit up in a chair, but was still weak, and the doctors could give him but a faint hope'of regaining hi-3 sight. r, ne afternoon, when Ruth had been reading to him, he said, ‘Your voice reminds me very much of some oue I once knew. Miss Grey.’ ‘ indeed I ’ said Ruth.

‘ Yes ; some one very dear to me, 1 he went on, ; but whom I have not seen for years, and whom since this misfortune has come upon me I may never see again. ’ At this allusion to his blindness Ruth could not suppress a sob; and he said, ‘ Ah, I know how your gentle heart feels for me, Miss Grey ; but if you knew all—how like a madman I once put aside from me deliberately all the happiness of my life—yon would indeed pity me. Listen for a while, and I will tell you a sad story,’ And then he told her how he had repented his action on that fatal morning, describing to her also her own conduct, and how her face was still with him, sleeping or waking. He told her how he had never married, and how aimless and reckless and miserable a life he had led, never daring to seek out Ruth Darnel again. He said how he had been working to be worthy of her, and how while on this very journey, which had come to an end so disastrously, he had been filled with a faint hope for the future, and had well-nigh resolved to seek Ruth out. He painted his boyish love in such colors that Ruth felt the old thrills stronger than ever, and he described herself till she blushed rosily, though she knew he could not see her. And then as his voice faltered, and he spoke of his desolate condition, she could bear no more, but burst into tears and fled from the room.

‘A tender-hearted girl,’ thought Tremaine ; ‘ why have I inflicted my troubles upon her ? it’s a strange return for all her kindness.’ And then he murmured to himself, as the tears rnuned down his scarred face, ‘ O Ruth, Ruth ! what would I not give to have my wasted life over again ! ’ * Was he dreaming ? Was it only fancy, or did a voice echo his own cry of ‘ Ruth’ ? He listened and heard it again, and then the answer in the low sweet tones of his nurse. So her name waa Ruth, and the voice so like the Ruth’s of old ! And who was calling her ? Mrs Darnel surely, as he had heard her in other years. A glimmer of the truth burst on him, and his brain reeled at; the thought that his old lore had been nursing him, j

In a few momenta Ruth returned. When she did so she was much surprised to find her patient standing, despite his weakness, upright in front of his chair, in the attitude, as it seemed, of an eager listener. * Ruth ?’ he said, as she entered; and she saw he knew all, and in a moment she was clasped in his arms. Then he spoke in a broken voice, as she sat beside him with his hand in hers. ‘ Ruth, I have no words to thank you with, but your life must be no part of mine now, shattered and blind as I am. I must go, dear, and go soon.’ *No dearest,’ she said very quietly ; ‘we will separate no more.’ ' I cannot have you sacrifice yourself,’ he said; ‘it is pity.’ ‘ No,’ she said, gently kissing his hand ; it is love.’ And that was Ruth Darnel’s revenge.