of young girls. Their
incessant chatter and musical laughter came to his ears as from a long
distance. At any former time he would have listened to them with great
pleasure; such sounds had an unspeakable charm for him; but to-day his
brain was busied with weightier matters.

He looked from the car window and saw the river glancing in the
sunlight, winding under shaded banks, rippling over stony bottoms.
He saw the wooded hill-sides, with the delicate green of spring upon
them fast deepening into the darker tints of summer. He saw the giant
breakers looming up, black and massive, in the foreground of almost
every scene. And yet it was all scarcely more to him than a shadowy
dream. The strong reality in his mind was the trying task that lay
before him yet, and the bitter outcome, so soon to be, of all his
hopes and fancies.

At Pittston Junction there was another long delay. Ralph grew very
nervous and impatient.

If the train could have reached Wilkesbarre on time he would have had
only an hour to spare before the sitting of the court. Now he could
hope for only a half-hour at the best. And if anything should happen
to deprive him of that time; if anything _should_ happen so that he
should not get to court until after the case was closed, until after
the verdict of the jury had been rendered, until after the law had
declared him to be Robert Burnham's son; if anything _should_ happen!
His face flushed, his heart began to beat wildly, his breath came in
gasps. If such a thing were to occur, without his fault, against his
will and effort, what then? It was only for a moment that he gave way
to this insidious and undermining thought. Then he fought it back,
crushed it, trampled on it, and set his face again sternly to the
front.

At last the train came, the impatient passengers entered it, and they
were once more on their way.

It was a relief at least to be going, and for the moment Ralph had a
faint sense of enjoyment in looking out across the placid bosom of the
Susquehanna, over into the tree-girt, garden-decked expanse of the
valley of Wyoming. Off the nearer shore of a green-walled island in
the river, a group of cattle stood knee-deep in the shaded water, a
picture of perfect comfort and content.

Then the train swept around a curve, away from the shore, and back
among the low hills to the east. Suddenly there was a bumping together
of the cars, an apparently powerful effort to check their impetus, a
grind