The White Rose of Memphis. Falkner William Clark
to warn the child of her danger. She rose and started to run toward the bridge, then hesitated a moment, and made a move as if she were going to jump over the embankment. An Irish woman who was the child’s nurse had imprudently left her on the track while she was gathering the flowers some distance from it. When the nurse discovered the danger to which the little girl was exposed she hallooed to the child, telling her to leap down the side of the embankment. She made a movement as if she were going to do it, then evidently became frightened at the great distance to the ground. Meantime the train was rapidly approaching the spot where the child was, notwithstanding the fact that all the brakes were down and the engine reversed. The momentum was so great, and the grade being downward, the train continued to move forward. The noise made by the whistle, added to the thundering sounds made by the approaching train, only served to increase the child’s confusion. The second time she started to run across the bridge, and again she ran back a few paces; then became so paralyzed with fright that she stopped, unable to move. The train was within a few feet of the little girl, and it now became certain that the engine could not be stopped before it reached the bridge, although it was running quite slowly, not faster than a man could run; but what did that signify? Wouldn’t the child be crushed to death unless the engine could be stopped before she was reached? It was plain to be seen that the little girl had lost her self-possession, and she stood gazing at the approaching train in despair. She had very long hair, which floated loose down her back, while the flowers lay scattered on the ground where she stood. The picture she presented then was pretty, ’tis true, but the situation was awful. My heart grew sick at the sight. I noticed Harry getting down on the very front of the iron frame commonly called the cow-catcher; but what good could he do by that? The engine was within ten feet of the little girl when I saw the old engineer turn his face away and throw both hands to his eyes, as if he were trying to shut out the shocking scene that was about to be witnessed.
“‘Oh! great God have mercy on us,’ he exclaimed, as he turned away.
“Harry placed his foot on the outer end of the longest bar of iron, then made a desperate leap forward, seized the child by the arm, and both went rolling down the steep side of the embankment. He made the leap when the engine was only about six feet from the child, and he must have made his calculations very accurately, for he only let one foot strike the ground between the rails, while the other struck the ground outside of the rails. The slightest miscalculation or the least mistake, would have been fatal to him as well as her for whom he made the gallant leap. At the base of the embankment there was a pond of muddy water, bordered with briars and broken rocks. Harry and the little girl landed in the middle of the pond, bruised and bleeding from many wounds. The engine came to a halt as soon as it struck the bridge, and the engineer leaped down to where Harry lay in the water and lifted him up in his arms. It was an affecting sight to see the man of iron nerve weeping like a child.
“‘My brave little hero,’ he exclaimed, as he pressed Harry’s brow to his lips, ‘are you hurt?’
“‘Not much sir, I believe, though my leg is broken,’ said Harry.
“Poor fellow! he fainted in the arms of the strong man who carried him up the embankment and placed him on the train. The little girl had a severe contusion on her temple, caused by falling against a sharp-cornered rock at the base of the embankment. She was also placed on the train, and then it was put in motion, and soon was at the station, and a surgeon sent for, while the wounded children were removed to a hotel near the depot. The mother of the little girl (a pale-faced, delicate little woman of great beauty) swooned and fell to the ground when she saw the bleeding child in my arms. The father of the child took her from me.
“‘In Heaven’s name pray tell me what has happened!’ said he, as he took his daughter from me.
“‘She is not seriously hurt, sir,’ said I, and then I told him what had occurred.
“Harry had regained consciousness before we reached the station, and when he saw how Lottie was weeping as she held his head in her lap, he smiled pleasantly. ‘Don’t be alarmed, Lottie dear, I am not seriously hurt – just one leg broken, that’s all. Wasn’t it lucky that I happened to be on the front of that engine? Is the little girl much hurt?’
“‘No, I think not,’ said the conductor, ‘she got a slight cut on the temple.’
“‘Wasn’t she a pretty little darling?’ continued Harry; ‘I fell in love with her as we rolled down the embankment together; and when I get to be a man, if she is willing, we’ll go down the path of life together.’
“‘His mind is wandering,’ whispered the conductor.
“Harry overheard him.
“‘Perhaps it is,’ said he, ‘but let it wander as much as it likes, so long as it happens to stray in that direction. Hush crying, Lottie dear, I tell you I am not much hurt; I shall be well again in three weeks.’
“The old surgeon arrived, threw off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work like a man who knew what he was about; and I was struck with admiration for the man when I saw the skill with which he reset the broken bones and placed the splints.
“‘There now, we’re all right, my brave little hero,’ he said, smiling as he finished pinning the bandage. ‘Keep it moist with cold water to prevent inflammation, and in three weeks this leg will be as good as the other one. By the by, what’s your name, little man?’
“‘Harry Wallingford, sir.’
“‘Ah, ha! a very nice name, too, it is. And the pretty little girl whose life you saved is the sweetest little angel that ever touched the earth!’
“‘Who is she?’ Harry inquired.
“‘Viola Bramlett is her name. She is the daughter of Mr. Bolivar Bramlett, of New York City, who is traveling in the South for the benefit of his wife’s health. They have been stopping at this hotel some three or four weeks, and being called in to see Mrs. Bramlett professionally, I have had a chance to become well acquainted with the family; therefore, you see, I speak advisedly when I say that little Viola is an angel.’
“‘I hope,’ said Harry, ‘that she is not badly hurt.’
“‘Oh, no; she is not hurt much at all – a slight contusion on the temple, and a few scratches from the briars – that’s all. Her father will be in to see you directly; he is overwhelmed with gratitude to you; and little Viola (Heaven bless her!), won’t talk about anything except the pretty little brave boy who kept her from being killed. She insisted on coming to see you now, but I persuaded her to wait till your wounds were dressed. So you see that you may expect soon to be overflowed with thanks and kisses from the sweetest little darling that the world ever saw. Ah, you’re a lucky lad, anyway. Good morning; I’ll see you again this evening; don’t move the wounded leg; keep it perfectly still, and talk as much as you please to the little angel when she comes to see you.’
“Then the old surgeon bustled out of the room, and went to visit his other patients. It was but a little while after Harry’s wounds had been dressed when Viola came bounding into the room, threw her arms round his neck, kissing his lips at least a dozen times in rapid succession. Then she said, with a voice which I thought very sweet and musical: ‘Oh, you don’t know how much I thank you for saving my life! Papa says that I should have been crushed to death but for your bravery. He says you are a real hero, and he is going to divide all his money with you. My papa has great heaps of money, and he is going to give you half of it, and I am to have the other half. Now, won’t that be nice?’
“I watched her movements with intense interest, and concluded that the old surgeon’s description of her charms had not been exaggerated. Harry gazed at her with such a look of admiration that I was convinced that he concurred in the opinion expressed by the surgeon in regard to her exceeding great beauty. Mr. Bramlett then made his appearance, and was very enthusiastic and profuse in his thanks to Harry for saving his little darling, as he called Viola.
“‘She is all we have, sir, and if she had been taken from us, it would have been a fatal blow to our happiness. Words cannot express the gratitude we feel toward you; and, as soon as you get well, we shall talk more about it. I am a man of business, and not a man of many words;