Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 April 1891 — THE MASTER OF THE MINE. [ARTICLE]

THE MASTER OF THE MINE.

By Robert Buchanan.

CHAPTER XXXlV— Concluded. The next thing to be considered was my next move —what that ought lobe, I could not determine: the I fact that I must keep all knowledge from my uncle bound me hand and foot. If I denounced Redruth publicly, and made mi open scandal, the whole truth would be revealed to my. uncle, and I positively trembled at the thought of what he might do. ==|ifcwalked thus pondering for hours, finally feeling somewhat calmer; but, having anived at no definite conclusion as to my future plans I returned to my cottage. Mv uncle, aunt, and Annie were all there —morever, there was honest John Rudd partaking of my aunt’s tea and hot Daked seones. “It be loike awld times to see Measter Hugh amang us agen,” said he, as I took my seat at the board ; ‘Teckon you’ll be stayin’ naw, till after the weddin. ” I replied that since it was to take place so soon, I most certainly Should. “Ah, then yo’ll ha’ some o’ the fun!” he continued; “there’ll be rare gawins on, I re Jeon. They tell me ffierpll be a tent put up on the fields and a dinner given to ail the miners, fie that true, Mr. Pendragon?” “Mawst likely," returned my uncle. “I knaw nought o’ that; but one thing be certain —the young measter, he be a gawin’ down the mine to-morrow to see to things, and put matters right afore he gang away.” Listening to this, I inwardly thanked God that my uncle knew nothing of the real character of young Red ruth. During all this time, pier Annie had been moving about busily attending to the tame; but I saw that what she did was done to cover —Air ag tation than fiom any real necessity. Now and again, placing herself in the shadow, she tried to -read ray face—in vain. When they Spoke of the wedding, her eyes filled With tears, and her bauds trembled violently, I tried to avoid being alone with her that night, for I dreaded to tell her what had taken place; but she was over anxious, and would not let the night pass. When the house was quiet, all of us having gone to our rooms there came a gentle tap at my bedroom door. Then the door opened, very quiet and stealthily, and Annie herself app ared. “Hugh, she whispered, “are you In bed?” I answered’‘No;” and she came in, closing the door behind her. She was parti lty undressed, and had a large cloak wrapped round her. Her beautiful hair was loosened, and fell in a heavy mass upon her 6houlders; her face was very pale and her eyes were still wet with tears. She came up to where I sat on the side of the bed, and looked at me, stretching forth a trembling hand, which I took in mine. “My poor Annie I” I said involuntarily. She seemed to understand all that piy tc no implied, for with a pitiful sob, she sank down crying at my feet. *v ; ‘'Don’t cry, Annie; don’t cry!” I said. “He is a scoundrel. He is hot worth one of those tears. You must forget him!" “Forget him?” she sobbed. Ah, Hugh, dear, it is not so easy to sorbet; for I love him so much—l never knew how much till now! Hugh, pear, she will not marry him, will phe?” “I cannot tell.”

"But have you told her. Does •he know?" "That I cannot tell."" She looked at me inquiringly. "Hugh, do you know what you are •aying? Surely, if you told her, you must know." "I have-not told her; but she may Ptnaw for all that. There has been a Strange scene, Annie; and I am a bit Sled to know what is best to do. thing, however, we must be ful to do—keep this from your ; father. He and the young j master go down the mine to-' morrow. If your father guessed the -story you have told me; one of them j might not come up again. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes, ’ she answered faintly. ‘But, Hugh, you have not told me what •he said.' | ‘I would rather not do so to-night "Annie. He means to go on with this marriage if he can; but I may find a means to prevent it. There is time iet. I must think it over and see mat can be done. But don,t worry rourself, little women. I tell you he Is not worthy to possess one hair of your head.’ , At breakfast the next morning my uncle again spoke of the approaching Visit of the young master to the mine, and seemed in high spirits about it; nay more, he seemed quit proud to thiuk that he should h;. been selected above all others to t. the oartof guide. ‘Menster dawn’t take to the new overseer chap,’ said he. ‘I doubt but he’d be glad to ha’ thee back i’ thy awld place, ladL‘ I shook my head. ‘You musn’t think of that, uncle. Fm well enough placed where I am.’ Soon after breakfast he set out for the mine, where young Redruth was to join him- A couple of hours later a figure entered the kitchen, where I •at ruminating, and, looking up, I was astonished to see Madeline, Her face was very palq and sad, |>ut there was a look of determation about her eyes and mouth which I bad never seen there before. She walked in at the open door and then flood h—l fating, as if uncertain what

to do. She answered my aunt’s courtesy with a kindly nod and smile, and then she looked at Annie, who, pale as death, had shrunk from her. No word of greeting passed between these two, but I thought that the light in Madeline’s eyes grew softer as she gazed upon the pale weary face of my 1 -cousin, while poor Annie showed in her face the bitter dislike she had taken to the woman who had supplanted her. Madeline turned to me. ‘Mr. Trelawney,’ she said, I, wish to speak to you privately. Can J,T I replied in the affirmative, and asked my aunt and cousin to leave us, which they accordingly did. Left alone with Madeline, I felt my whole body tremble like a tree bending before the breath of the tempest. But I took courage to look at her, and thus I became somewhat reassured. Her whole demeanor was calm ancTcold; she made no attempt to ap proach me; tut she walked over to~ the window and looked out, turning only occasionly to glance at me while the interview lasted. ‘Mr. Trelawney,' she said, when you paid your visit to Redruth House last nighil was listening. I was in a remote and shaded part of the drawing-room when you entered;, remained there during the scene which followed. What I witnessed was too stormy to be very lucidLlX. want you to make it clear to me now. I ‘What do you wish me to do?’ ‘I wish you to tell me, if you will, the whole of your cousins unfortunate story. ’ I did as she requested; not dwelling too much upon it, but making every point clear. When I had finished, Madeline said quietly: ‘How long have you known this story, Mr. Trelawney?’ ‘Two or three days. It seems that Annie had given some promise not to betray that man, and this promise she religiously kept until ' ‘Yes, until ’ __ ‘Until she was driven to desperation by the announcement of his approaching marriage. Sick and heartbroken, she came to me and told me the story. Horrified beyond meassure, I thought of you; and I dreaded to think what your life would be married to such a villain. I came here determined to face him; and, if rssible, to prevent the marriage. went to him in all good faith — you best know how I was received.’ ‘Do you believe that his marriage with your cousin is legal?’ ‘No; I honestly believe it to be false. ’ ‘Then you mean to expose him? Since your cousin cannot get justice, do you mean to make your wrongs known? ‘I looked at her for a momect; then I answered: ‘No; I have done all that I can do. To humiliate him now would be to humiliate you—moreover, it would lead to his certain death? ‘His death! What do you mean?’ □ ‘This: that if I pointed him out as the betrayer of Annie Pendragon, my uncle would surely kill him. ’ She started and trembled. ‘Don’t fear for him,’ I said; he is safe from me. There has been trouble enough here already; God forbid that I should be the means of bringing more!’ There was a long pause. Madeline still stood at the window, gazing out with sad, wistful eyes. Then she turned and came towards me. ‘Mr. Trelawney,’ she said, ‘I think you are right when you say you will make no public scandal. Let the matter rest, and perhaps in time all may come well. You think that your cousin still lovss Mr. Redruth?; ‘God help her! Yes.’ ‘Then let sis pray that her love, and all her patient suffering, will some day be requited.’ ‘I do not understand!’ I said. ‘No? Then you think more badly of me than I deserve, though heaven knows I have not deserved that you should think well of ma I told you once that I was marrying; my cousin because he was poor and I was rich. What I told you I told him; I know I could never love him, but I wished to help him, and I should have done so. I should have married him; and once his wife, I think —nay, I am sure —I should have been able to do my duty, But when I gave that promise to him I believed him to be a good and honorable man. Now, all is changed. I believe every word of your story, Mr. Trelawney; and* believing it, I know I can never be united to him.’ She paused for a moment; but I could not speak. Presently she continued: “Mr. Trelawney, I wanj; you to give me your hand for a moment in token of your forgiveness. Heaven has not been mferciful to either of us, and I think it would have been better for us both if we had never met. 1 shall leave this place to-morrOw; but I shall never forget it, and I shall never forget you. God bless vou!’

She pressed my hand warmly in th of hers, and the next moment ;v • was gone. What followed seemed to me a wild dream. I remained for a time stupefied—drunk with mingled joy and sorrow feeling the grasp of my darling’s hand in mine, and hearing still the sound of her loving voice. Then I knew that my aunt and Annie had returned, and were questioning me as to Madeline’s visit; but their questions were soon drowned in a strange murmur which reached us from without, and the next moment a wild group surged np and surrounded the kitchen door. CHAPTER XXXV. THE COMING OP THE SEA. "What has happened?" I cried, run-

nlng np and fating the tamsMrtsldken men. « . One of them, Michael Penmaur, a stalwart fellow df five-and-twenty, stepped forward and acted as spokesman. Cr- “ What you allays said would happen, Measter Hugh. The main shaft be flooded wi’ the sea. ” What this betokened I well knew; if the sea had entered, that portion of the mine was destroyed forever. “That's a bad look-out, my lads. Well, it was bound to come about; and if there is no one down below, and no life lost, perhaps ’tis all for the best." As I spoke, I saw them look wildly at one another and whisper, and I guessed that they bad something more to telL “What is it, lads?" I cried. “Speak!” “Come outside, Measter Hugh,” answered Michael Penmaur: “I’ll tell ’ee there." But my aunt, with a wild cry, sprang forward and grasped him by the arm. “You shall tell it naw!" she tried. “I can see it in your face, and my dreams ha’ come true. Summat’s happened to my manl Hugh, make him speak! I can bear it!” At that moment Annie entered the room, descending from the chamber above, and the moment she appeared my aunt addressed her wildly. “You ha’ come in time. Annie Pendragon. All the trouble began wi’ ’ee! Bid them speak, then, an’ tell what’s happened to your father!’ “Oh, Hugh, what is it?” exclaimed poor Annie, coming to my side. I told her that the waters had flooded the mine. “And father? where is father?” she said, with a sharp presentiment of the truth. Michael Penmaur exchanged another rapid look with his companions, and then replied: “Your father be dawn belaw, wi’ the young measter!” My aunt uttered a scream, and threw her hands up into the air. “Dead!” she cried. “My dream again! You ha’killed him, Annie—you ha’ killed yoqr father!” “No, no, mother! Don’t say that!” “Speak, lads!” I said. “Tell me everything, for God’s sake!” Then Michael Penmaur, as spokesman, told me, in a few rapid words all he knew; that in the course of the afternoon George Redruth had descended the mine in company with my uncle for the purpose of inspecting the outer galleries—my uncle, indeed, having fetched him for that very purpose; that suddenly, while all were busy below, the alarm had been given, and, throwing down their tools, the men had rushed up the ladders, while simultaneously they heard a rush and roar like the sound of the entering sea; that as they ascended in wild alarm, the lower ladder broke beneath the weight of some of the men, who were precipi tated with it into the darkness; and that, finally, when they collected at the mouth of the mine, they missed, besides several of their comrades, both George Redruth and my uncle.

I rushed to the door: By this time it was quite dark, and it was blowing quite hard from the south-west, with hail and rain. I thought with horror of that submarine darkness, and of those who were lying even then within it, live or dead. My mind was made up in a moment. I did not even wait to speak to Annie or my aunt, but, calling on the men to follow me, ran right away in the direction of the mine. The men followed me in a body, When we reached the cliffs, we found the wild news had spread, and an excited throng was gathered at the mine-head, some carrying torches, which cast lurid gleams on the strand beneath, and the white billows were flashing and crashing. Suddenly a light hand was placed S>on my arm, and, turning, I saw adeline; close to her, like a gaunt spectre, Mrs. Redruth. ‘Thank God you are here!’ cried my darling. ‘ls there any hope?’ I looked into her white face, and saw’ in its wild anxiety only love for my rival; but at that supreme moment I felt no jealousy—only supreme pity for her and him. Then I glanced at his mother, and heard her quick cry of supplication: ‘Save him! Save my son!’ Dazed and horrified, I turned round and addressed the men: ‘ls Mr. Redruth below?’ ‘Ay, ay, measter!’ they answered in a chorus. ‘Who saw him last?*

‘I did,’ said MiphaelPenmaur.- ‘He was creeping wi,’ John Pendragon out beyond the bottom shaft. ’ I walked to the mouth of the mine, and threw open thdS wooden lid. Then, kneeling down, I held my ear over the mouth and listeded. A sound like thunder —a horrible rushing and roaring—came from below. I had no doubt now that the worst had happened. The sea had entered the mine. There was only one chance for those below, if by any possibility they survived. Some one must descend and make an inspection, even at the risk of his life; and, without a moment's hesitation, I determined to volunteer for the task. Strange to say, my head became quite cool and clear directly my resolve was made. ‘Listen, lads! I said. There’s hope yet, and I'm going down.’ A faint cheer, mingled with a terrified murmer, greeted my annouceraent. ‘lt be no use, measter!’ cried Michael Penmauer. The ladders be clean down.’ ‘I know that,’ I answered; ‘but if , we cauget safely down to the middle ' platform, I can descend from there

by a rope. Bun down to the office,i some of you, and bring all the and candles you can find.’ They rushed off cheering; and, turning to those who remained, I explained my plan. Several of them, Michael Penmaur among the number, agreed to descent with me to the platform, and to lower me thence down the bottorij -shaft. In less time than it takes to Write these lines the messengers rer. turned with several coils of rope an<| candles; I stuek several of the latter about my person and two or three in my wideawake hat. Then I was ready. I had set my foot on the first runs of the ladder and was about to .del scend, when Madeline bent over me. “God bless you!” she said, “and bring you safe back!” I reached up, and taking her hand pressed it to my lips. “If he lives,” I said, “11l restore him to you and to his mother. Don’t cry, Miss Graham! There’s a chance yet!” I thought her tears fell for him, and yet. strange to stay, she had my sympathy; all my wild jealousy haa fallen from me like a discarded garment. What was my amazement therefore, when, bending ovtr me,, she took my face between her two trembling hands and kissed me on the forehead. “God will bring you back!” she sobbed, and turned away. Scarcely realizing the significance of what occured I descended rapidly, followed by Michael and the volunteers. As I went the roar from below increased, and the solid rock on which the ladder was set seemed to shake as with an earthquake. In pitch darkness I reached the first platform: [To be Continued.]