Margery Daw

Stand back there! Move aside! Good heavens! Can't you see the woman will die if you press about her in this way?" The speaker bent over the lifeless form as he uttered these words, and tried once more to pour a little stimulant between the pallid lips. The scene was one of indescribable confusion. A collision had occurred between the Chesterham express and a goods train, just a short distance from Chesterham Junction. Five of the carriages were wrecked. Fortunately, three were empty; and the other two contained only three passengers—a man, who, with his arm bound up, was already starting to walk to the town; a boy, badly cut about the head, leaning, pale and faint, on a portion of the broken woodwork; and, lastly, a woman, who lay motionless on the bank, a thick shawl spread between her and the cold, damp earth. On discovery, she had been removed from the débris, laid on the bank, and forgotten in the excitement and terror.