Once, when they stopped longer than the other times, he got up and walked
the length of the car and down the steps to the ground. He even stood
there, and let the train start jerkily on till his car had passed him, and
the steps were just sliding by, and tried to think whether he would not
stay, and go back in some way to find her. Then the impossibility of the
search, and of his getting back in time to do any good, helped him to
spring on board just before it was too late. He walked back to his seat
saying to himself, "Fool! Fool!"
It was not till morning that he remembered his baggage and went in search
of it. There he found a letter from his cousin, with other letters and
telegrams explaining the state of affairs at home. He came back to his
seat laden with a large leather grip and a suitcase. He sat down to read
his letters, and these took his mind away from his troubled thoughts for a
little while. There was a letter from his mother, sweet, graceful, half
wistfully offering her sympathy. He saw she guessed the reason why he had
left her and gone to this far place. Dear little mother! What would she
say if she knew his trouble now? And then would return his heart-frenzy
over Elizabeth's peril. O to know that she was protected, hidden!
Fumbling in his pocket, he came upon a slip of paper, the slip the girl
had given Elizabeth in the schoolhouse on Sunday afternoon. "For in the
time of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion; in the secret of his
tabernacle shall he hide me.
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