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."