THE PARLOR-CAR

by William D. Howells




SCENE: A Parlor-Car on the New York Central Railroad. It is late
afternoon in the early autumn, with a cloudy sunset threatening rain.
The car is unoccupied save by a gentleman, who sits fronting one of
the windows, with his feet in another chair; a newspaper lies across
his lap; his hat is drawn down over his eyes, and he is apparently
asleep. The rear door of the car opens, and the conductor enters
with a young lady, heavily veiled, the porter coming after with her
wraps and travelling-bags. The lady's air is of mingled anxiety and
desperation, with a certain fierceness of movement. She casts a
careless glance over the empty chairs.

CONDUCTOR: "Here's your ticket, madam. You can have any of the
places you like here,--glancing at the unconscious gentleman, and
then at the young lady,--"if you prefer, you can go and take that
seat in the forward car."

MISS LUCY GALBRAITH: "Oh, I can't ride backwards. I'll stay here,
please. Thank you." The porter places her things in a chair by a
window, across the car from the sleeping gentleman, and she throws
herself wearily into the next seat, wheels round in it, and lifting
her veil gazes absently out at the landscape. Her face, which is
very pretty, with a low forehead shadowed by thick blond hair, shows
the traces of tears. She makes search in her pocket for her