Margaret Hale & John Thornton

Margaret Hale and John Thornton 21

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It was the day they left for London for the wedding. Passengers and porters came and went on the platform at Milton Station. There was the steam from the train, mixed with coal dust, drifting in the air.

Margaret and John were walking on the platform. Dixon followed to see them off. As he opened the compartment door, Dixon looked radiant and said:

"It's your time, Miss Margaret."

"Dixon, you should come on this train with us."

She faced her servant, who replied laughing.

"I wouldn't be so insensitive. "

A train coming from the south entered on the other side of the platform. Margaret looked at the train, which made her remember the day her family arrived at Milton.

"We'll be on the streets...in a strange place."

"We will manage, Mother. It's not another planet."

The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed over and over again. The billowing smoke obscured their vision for a moment. A thin whistle signaled the train to stop.

"Outward, Milton!"

The announcement in a heavy northern accent echoed.

"All change!"

"All change for stations north!"

"There will be no people there like us... in Milton. 

How can there be?"

"Dixon, take care and find a porter. We have arrived."

Watching people arriving in the north, she felt like one of them.

"Margaret."

Hearing John's low voice, she came back to herself. He took her hand and whispered:

"Come with me."

"Yes."

They nodded and snuggled, walking up the steps together.

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Dixon, waving at the platform, moved away. The steam engine gathered speed, belching out great puffs of smoke as the station gave away to fields of green.

John and Margaret sat side by side, facing the direction of travel. She had the handkerchief with their initials in the palm of her hand.

"John" she said.

"Every time I get on a train, my surroundings change. I never thought that the day of the wedding would come."

He sat up a little and kissed her on the forehead.

The train gradually picked up speed, and a clear view of the meadow opened up.

"Oh."

As she murmured quietly, he followed her gaze. In the field there were people, maybe thirty or so, adults and children, men and women waving. Some were holding hats in their hands, others were waving cloths. They were all smiling and shouting something, but it couldn't be heard on the train. John looked at the large man and muttered .

"Higgins."

Margaret got up and opened the window.
"Frank! " 　"Thomas！"

The wind rushed in.

"Jesse!" 　"Harold! "

She waved her hands, calling out all names of the workers there.

"Mary!" 　"Tom!" 　

"Nicholas!"

Her voice couldn't be heard over there, and theirs couldn't reach her. It didn't matter. It was enough that they got together and shared this moment.

A steam whistle echoed across the meadow. She kept waving her hands until they were out of sight.

■　The End　■

Thank You　(^_^)/