28<) 



THE AMERICAN BEK-KKKPKR 



October 



1^ THE TUNNEL. 



She was a strange looking old woman, 

 as handsome as an old wom;vo can be, 

 rather eleg-autly dressiul aud with the air of 

 one who beloagod to good society. 



She was siuiug next me in tlie waiting 

 room of the railroad station, but outside 

 her horses were being fed and watered, 

 and she was waiting to rest. 



When the whistle so.inded, she stopped 

 her ears with both her hands and shuddi-r- 

 ed violently. When the engine came in 

 sight, she looked at it as one might regard 

 a hideous monoter and muttered to herself 

 in a way that made me fancy lua* not 

 quite in her right mind. 



Then of a sudden she turned to me, with 

 a little l:)(jw, and said : 



"You are traveling by rail, madam?" 



I answered j-es. 



"How can you?" asked my interrogator. 

 ' ' Wherever I go, I go in my carriage. Those 

 cars are so terrible, especially the tunnels. ' ' 



"But if one is not blessed wit li a car- 

 riage?" I asked. 



"Then you nuist go behind that terriblo 

 creature, I suppose," said the old lady, 

 looking toward the engine, "but I'm sorry 

 for you." 



"Do accidents often happen in tunnels?" 

 I asked, with an involuntary shudder. 



"Accidents!" she cried. "Worse than 

 that. I'll tell you what happened to me 

 in a tunnel. There's time enough, if you 

 don't mind listening." 



I bowed. She put her handkerchief to 

 her face for a moment and went on : 



"You see that white house on the hill 

 up there? T'lat is mine. Tliere my hus- 

 band died, there my son married. It was 

 after he married, when I was 00 years old, 

 that this happened. Sixty ! Just think of 

 it — a time when life ought to run on with- 

 out any event whatever — and then romance 

 came to me — rouiauce for the first time in 

 my life, because, you see, I had married 

 without any thouglit of that, a very good 

 man — but so old — at 16. 



"Well, as I .said, at 60 he fell in love 

 with me. I think he was 25, and, oh! but 

 he was handsome. I was sitting on my 

 porch when he rccie by, and his horse shied 

 at sometiiing and threw him at my feet. 

 He seemed to be dead. I had him i^icked 

 lip and biought in, and the doctor £ind I 

 restored him to life. 



"Do you know what he was? I'll tell 

 you. Ho was a rider at the circus close l)y, 

 not a gentleman, they said, but his voice 

 was so soft and his way so pleasant that 

 he seemed one, and, then, wliat did that 

 matter? He called me his good angel ; he 

 kissed my hand. At last he told me tliat 

 he loved rue. 



"It was strange to hear. I would not 

 listen to him at first, but at last he k; 'It 

 at my fec^t, and I — ah, I was a woman 

 still. I kissed him on his forehead, aud I 

 promised to bo his wife. 



' ' When my son heard of it, he was furi- 

 ous. He said teiTi'ole things. 'Mother,' 

 he said, 'if you marry this impostor, who 

 only wants your money, you will rue the 

 day j-ou were born. ' 



"I did not c::?e for my son's wrath, nor 

 that mv friends all turned coldly from me. 

 I married Adolphe, and we were very 

 happy. 



' ' As soon as we were married he began 

 to talk of Europe and of the happy liie one 

 led in Paris. So I said, 'We will go to 

 Paris. ' 



' ■ We made ready to go. Of course we 

 needed money. I had bank notes and 

 checks to a. large amo;int — a little fortune 

 indeed — in my great wallet. I also had my 

 diamonds. Adolphe took care of all these 

 things. To reach the city whence our ship 

 started we were obliged to go in the cars. 

 Even tlieu I 1 aied and was afraid of them. 



"I talked and laughed like a girl as we 

 whirled over tlie country, but he grew 

 more silent, and by the time we reached 

 the tunnel very grave. I remember going 

 into it. Adolphe took my hand and kissed 

 it. 



"I sat still. The cars rattled, the dark- 

 ness grew deeper. I felt a little frightened 

 and reached my hand to touch Adolphe. 

 He was not there. 



"I said, 'Adolphe.' There was no an- 

 swer. I Ciilled, 'Adolphe!' again. Oh, it 

 was so terrible — no answer, and the dark- 

 ness like the darkness of death! 



"At last It began to grow lighter. I 

 could see shadow forms, but no shadow of 

 Adolphe. 1 asked for him. At last they 

 helped me and made search — he was not 

 on the train. No one ever saw hina again ; 

 he vanished in the tunnel. 



"People tried to make me think ill of 

 him. I would not. I, who felt his kisses 

 on my hanil still. Satan is envious of hap- 

 piness, and" — There the old lady lower- 

 ed her voice. "That thing with the red 

 eye there is satan, though people don't 

 know it. Don't go into the tunnel with 

 him — remember what I say, and don't go 

 into the tunr.el" — 



"Madam, your carriage is ready," said 

 a middle aged woman, entering just then, 

 and the old lady hurried oft', shaking her 

 head as she went and muttering to herself. 



"She's been talking aI)out the tunnel, 

 ma'am?" a.sked the middle aged woman, 

 with a courtesy. 



' ' Yes, ' ' I said. 



"She never had good sense, I think, " 

 said the woman, "and at 60 she married a 

 foreigner, younger than her son. He man- 



