They went away together, leaving her to her despair, which had passed into
a sort of torpor by the following night, when Dr. Morrell came again, out
of what she knew must be mere humanity; he could not respect her any
longer. He told her, as if for her comfort, that Putney had gone to the
depot to meet Mr. Peck, who was expected back in the eight-o'clock train,
and was to labour with him all night long if necessary to get him to
change, or at least postpone, his purpose. The feeling in his favour was
growing. Putney hoped to put it so strongly to him as a proof of duty that
he could not resist it.
Annie listened comfortlessly. Whatever happened, nothing could take away
the shame of her weakness now. She even wished, feebly, vaguely, that she
might be forced to keep her word.
A sound of running on the gravel-walk outside and a sharp pull at the
door-bell seemed to jerk them both to their feet.
Some one stepped into the hall panting, and the face of William Savor
showed itself at the door of the room where they stood. "Doc--Doctor
Morrell, come--come quick! There's been an accident--at--the depot.
Mr.--Peck--" He panted out the story, and Annie saw rather than heard how
the minister tried to cross the track from his train, where it had halted
short of the station, and the flying express from the other quarter caught
him from his feet, and dropped the bleeding fragment that still held his
life beside the rail a hundred yards away, and then kept on in brute
ignorance into the night.
"Where is he? Where have you got him?" the doctor demanded of Savor.
"At my house."
The doctor ran out of the house, and she heard his buggy whirl away,
followed by the fainter sound of Savor's feet as he followed running, after
he had stopped to repeat his story to the Boltons. Annie turned to the
farmer. "Mr. Bolton, get the carry-all. I must go."
"And me too," said his wife.
"Why, no, Pauliny; I guess you better stay. I guess it'll come out all
right in the end," Bolton began. "_I_ guess William has exaggerated
some may be. Anyrate, who's goin' to look after the little girl if you
come?"
"_I_ am," Mrs. Bolton snapped back. "She's goin' with me."
"Of course she is. Be quick, Mr. Bolton!" Annie called from the stairs,
which she had already mounted half-way.
She caught up the child, limp with sleep, from its crib, and began to dress
it. Idella cried, and fought away the hands that tormented her, and made
herself now very stiff and now very lax; but Annie and Mrs. Bolton together
prevailed against her, and she was dressed, and had fallen asleep again
in her clothes while the women were putting on their hats and sacks, and
Bolton was driving up to the door with the carry-all.