Draxy's first night was spent at the house of a brother of Captain
Melville's, to whom her uncle had given her a letter. All went smoothly,
and her courage rose. The next day at noon she was to change cars in one
of the great railroad centres; as she drew near the city she began to feel
uneasy. But her directions were explicit, and she stepped bravely out into
the dismal, dark, underground station, bought her ticket, and walked up
and down on the platform with her little valise in her hand, waiting for
the train.

In a few moments it thundered in, enveloped in a blinding, stifling smoke.
The crowd of passengers poured out. "Twenty minutes for refreshments," was
shouted at each car, and in a moment more there was a clearing up of the
smoke, and a lull in the trampling of the crowd. Draxy touched the
conductor on the arm.

"Is this the train I am to take, sir?" she said showing him her ticket.

He glanced carelessly at it. "No, no," said he; "this is the express;
don't stop there. You must wait till the afternoon accommodation."

"But what time will that train get there?" said Draxy, turning pale.

"About ten o'clock, if it's on time," said the conductor, walking away. He
had not yet glanced at Draxy, but at her "Oh, what shall I do!" he turned
back; Draxy's face held him spellbound, as it had held many a man before.
He stepped near her, and taking the ticket from her hand, turned it over
and over irresolutely. "I wish I could stop there, Miss," he said. "Is it
any one who is sick?"--for Draxy's evident distress suggested but one
explanation.