Margot Asquith, an Autobiography - Two Volumes in One by Margot Asquith
page 65 of 409 (15%)
page 65 of 409 (15%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
train for London, watching the telegraph-posts flying past me.
"My mind was going over every possibility. I was sitting near her bed with the baby on my arm, chattering over plans, arranging peignoirs, laughing at the nurse's anecdotes, talking and whispering over the thousand feminine things that I knew she would be longing to hear. ... Or perhaps she was dying... asking for me and wondering why I did not come... thinking I was hunting instead of being with her. Oh, how often the train stopped! Did any one really live at these stations? No one got out; they did not look like real places; why should the train stop? Should I tell them Laura was dying? ... We had prayed so often to die the same day. ... Surely she was not going to die... it could not be... her vitality was too splendid, her youth too great... God would not allow this thing. How stiff my face felt with its bandages; and if I cried they would all come off! "At Swindon I had to change. I got out and sat in the vast eating- room, with its atmosphere of soup and gas. A crowd of people were talking of a hunting accident: this was mine. Then a woman came in and put her bag down. A clergyman shook hands with her; he said some one had died. I moved away. "'World! Trewth! The Globe! Paper, miss? Paper? ...' "'No, thank you.' "'London train!' was shouted and I got in. I knew by the loud galloping sound that we were going between high houses and at each gallop the wheels seemed to say, 'Too late--too late!' After a |
|