The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1883-12-08 00:00:00

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

HOW IT HAPPENED.
GRACE MONROE had been seated, with Janet tor
her companion at her post, which was just at the
edge of the sands, when Mary Wilmot, one of the
most pleasant and good-hearted of the girls, had
joined them, thinking, she said, that Grace would
not mind.
"It's dull for you two here," she said; "and it's
quite as dull in the hut. I'd rather stay here and
keep you company, if you'll let me."
Grace made no objection; and the three girls
were seated there upon the sands, listening atten-
tively for a time and then conversing in a low voice
of the beauty of night, the stars on the waters,
and the golden fringe of the breaking sea.
Sometimes they rose to pace up and down a few
do-en yards either way, but all was so calm and
peaceful that keeping watch seemed to be a mockery.
"It seems that we might just as well be at tho
nut, lying down asleep," said Janet.
"No I think not," said Mary Wilmot, with a
shudder. "I don't feel comfortable to-night. t
seems to me as if there is something going to

.ppen.'
"Stuff," said Janet; "if there was, you would not
low anythin about it."
"Do you think not ?" said the girl. " glad
that; because, though I know it's foolish to be
raid of shadows, I can't help feeling uneasy, and
if a dark shadow were looming over me. What's
at?" she whispered quickly.
"A piece of rock," said Grace, quietly, as the
irl pointed seaward. "You are not well, Mary;
our hand feels hot and feverish. You must let the
ioctor see you to-morrow."
"How coolly you talk about the doctor," said the
girl, "as if we lid no all know you worshipped
him."

afraii

Grace Monroe made no reply, only rose and began
) pace up and down slowly.
"She's offended because I said that," said Mary,
uietly. "I did not mean to offend her or any-
4y_. Surely it's no dias:Face to love so true and
a fellow. Will she come back and sit
,Wlhilandlia"

1;od:

handsome

.61 don't know," said the girl addressed; "only
you've touched upon a very tender place indeed."
"Poor thing!" said Mary Wilmot. "I did not
mean to hurt her feelings. I'll go and speak to
her."

. She rose and followed Grace, going up to her, and
affectionately putting her arms round her waist as
she whispered her apologies. •
Grace's reply was to kiss her, and together they
returned to sit, talking earnestly about their position,
and the prospect of being rescued.
"I feelto-night," said Mary, "as if somehow it
did not matter, for the dark shadow I spoke of
seems to get darker."
"You had better go back to the hut at once,"
said Grace, decisively. "You are undoubtedly
sickening for some complaint, and being out here in
the night air must be bad for you."
"No--no—no, don't send me away," said the
girl, earnestly. "It is nothing—indeed, it is
nothing."
She was so importunate, and took it so seriously
to heart, that Grace could not persuade her to go,
and once more they resumed their conversation.
The night wore on with all peaceful and still; the
stars glistened overhead as if each strove with the
others to give a better light, and the crescent moon
began slowly to rise out of the sea. Trouble or
danger seemed far enough from them although 80
near, and at last Janet rose and began to walk up
and down, her footfalls unheard in the sand, and
gradually increasing her distance at every turn.
"Do you feel, Grace Monroe, as if there were
danger coming?" said Mary at last.
"No," said. Grace, smiling; "not in the least.
You foolish girl, You are full of fancies."
"Yes, I suppose I am," said the girl. "I'm cry
sleepy, too. I Ithould like to sink into a long, long
restful sleep."
"Then sit still," said Grace. "I'll walk as far as
the half-way mark to the flex,: sentry, and then t ack,
two or three times, after which I'll come and sit
down again."
Mary Wilmot seemed half asleep, and she made
no. objection to her companion's proposition: so
Grace slowly walked away for forty or fifty yards,
and had ifot about half the distance, when sho heard
a dull noise as of a blow.

She waited, listening; but, hearing nothing
further, she continued her walk to the end, and was re-
turning when she heard a faint cry, followed by the
rush of feet, and running up to where she had eft
Mary Wilmot, she just caught a glimpse of Janet
running away.
She felt a strange, shrinking sensation as she drew
near Mary,- and was startled to see that she was
lying down. Then her eyes lighted upon a ghastly
sight, and she tottered away.
At that moment there was a hoarse cry, appa-
rently from close at hand, and the sound of blow 8,
with a fierce struggle. -
Unnerved to a degree by wjrat she had seen, and
not knowing what this fresh struggle might por end,
she turned to run after Janet, towards the camp, when
a figure seemed to start up in her path, and the ne. t
moment she was struggling in the arms of a. savage,
who uttered a low, guttural e:x7, which ,brought
another to his side, and each seizing an arm, they
began to hurry her hastily away.
Grace uttered cry after cry for help, but they were
for the most part muffled by the hand of one of the
savages; and, in spite of her resistance, she was
forced almost into a run, to find, to her surprise, that
there was another little party with a prisoner just
ahead; and, after they had been hurried on for some
time, she found herself face to face with Deborah
Burrows, and read in her countenance who had done
the horrible deed. , .

Tip to this moment Deborah, who had been sei7ed
while running away from Mary Wilmot, had been
only fierce, and had struggled boldly with her cap-
tors; but on seeing Grace Monroe's face by the pale
light of the moon approaching hers, she uttei ed a
wild shriek of dismay, held up her hands to keep the
poor girl off, and acted throughout as if in the belief
that this was a being of another sphere.
As her cries rang out, one of the savages seized her
by the throat, and half strangled her, before catch ng
her -wrist, and going on again with hurried cautioti,
as if they now believed themselves to be pursued.
Grace was hurried on after them, and on and on,
hour after lour, till at daybreak she was roughly
thrust down upon a piece of rock, some fruit thrown
into her lap, and one of her savage captors made
signs to her to eat.
She was too weary and sick at heart to eat; but
for fear of angering those who had made her their
prisoner, she placed a morsel or two in her mouth,
and then her eyes wandered round the place where
they were resting.
Deborah was within a couple of yards of where
she sat, but kept her back to her; while the savages
sat here and there on the rough blocks of lava.
For they had:been travelling straight towards the
volcano, ,which now 7 in the dim morning light,
seemed to tower up right above her head, emitting a
dark cloud of smoke, which added to the obscurity
of the scene.

They were in a great rift, where a huge mass of
sto, e seemed to have been at some time rent asunder,
for the walls, now some sixty feet apart, showed on
their faces the indentations and prominences that
had fitted together, • while at either end the way
seemed blocked with great masses, of lava, completely
shutting them in from observation onlall sides, so
that Grace asked herself was this to be her-prison,
and was it her fate to be shut up here at the will, of
her captors with Deborah?
As he aska. herself that question, the horrible
scene of Mary Wilmot's body, lying as she had seen
it in the moonlight, rose before her eyes, and she
shuddered as she thought of what would probably be
her fate; and in her misery she wished that one of
the savages before her would mercifully put an end
to her existence.

(2b k eontussisa.)