There was a church, a graveyard, a mill, a village; and now, without pause or fear, the train had mounted a trestle-work high in air and was creeping along the top of it while a swift torrent foamed a hundred feet below.
What would the morning bring?
Even while he was flying to her, her gentle spirit might have gone on another flight, whither he could not follow her.

He was full of foreboding.

He fell at length into a restless doze.
There was a noise in his ears as of a rushing torrent when a stream is swollen by a freshet in the spring.

It was like the breaking up of life; he was struggling in the consciousness of coming death: when Ruth stood by his side, clothed in white, with a face like that of an angel, radiant, smiling, pointing to the sky, and saying, "Come." He awoke with a cry--the train was roaring through a bridge, and it shot out into daylight.
When morning came the train was industriously toiling along through the fat lands of Lancaster, with its broad farms of corn and wheat, its mean houses of stone, its vast barns and granaries, built as if, for storing the riches of Heliogabalus.

Then came the smiling fields of Chester, with their English green, and soon the county of Philadelphia itself, and the increasing signs of the approach to a great city.