--I have read all the accounts in the newspapers this
morning, and all agree in putting Courtney's name among the killed.
There can be no doubt about it any longer; he is dead. When the
collision occurred, the car in which he vas riding was thrown across
the track, and the other train crashed through it. Judging by the
condition of the body when discovered, death must have been nearly
instantaneous. Poor Courtney! My conscience is not at ease. Of course,
I am not really responsible; that is only imagination. But I begin to
suspect that my imagination has been playing me more than one trick
lately.
And now, with this new state of affairs so suddenly and terribly
brought about, what is to be done? I am as yet scarcely in a condition
to reflect calmly; but a voice within me seems to say that something
else besides my conscience has been awakened by Courtney's death. Can
it be that imagination, dallying with what it took for impossibilities,
could so far mislead a man? Well, I shall start at once for the scene
of the disaster, and relieve the poor fellow's widow of whatever pain I
can.
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