The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1886-09-01
THE MASTER OF THE MINES :!
BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.
loosr1suKD FROM ORR LAST 1ssur.l
CHAPTER XIV.
UNDFR THF SPELL

CHAPTER XIV.
UNDER THE SPELL
For some days after that | saw nothing
whatever of Madeline: indeed, so close was
she kept In the great house, that she might
never have existed at all. | began TO think
that she had taken her departure from Corn
wall: but was wrong. One day, the seventh
from that on which the life-boat had brought
Madeline 10 shore, l made minute inspec-
ton of the mine, which every day grew more
dangerous and came up from my work COW
cred with filth from head to foot | had
passed the last ladder and stood on terra
trina, at the mouth of the mine, dazzled by
the quick transformation from pitch dark
ness TO broad daylight when my ears were
struck by the sound of voice which passed
like sudden music through my frame. rub
bed my eyes and looked about me, and there,
not far from where / stood, was my old
sweetheart. She was dressed now in an ele-
CANT costume of gray, which fitted her 10
perfection; little hat with long piumes was
on her head, and her face, looking Ioveier
than ever, glowed and sparkled in the light;
with her rich brown skin and sparkling black
eyes, her erect carriage, graceful tread she
looked like some Eastern princessi She was
walking toward the spot where | stood
George Retruth was beside her: while be-
hind followed the black girl, Anita, her dark
eyes fixed upon her mistress. This sudden
encounter had so unnerved me that. for a
moment, it deprived me of the power both
o. speech and motion. Quickly recovering
myself, however, was about to move away,
and so avoid embarrassment, when the mas
ters voice arrested me.
''Trelawney," he said; lone moment"
paused.
Yes, sir.''
Miss Graham wishes to go down the
mine. tell her it is impossible. What do
you say? Is 1t fit for lady?"
/ was about to reply when Madeline inter-
posed.
Don't worry about it, George she said
| "I've abandoned the idea" Then, stepping
up to me, she held forth her little goved
hand. / bowed over it but did not take it,
giving as an excuse that was not tit to ap-
prOach her.
Il daresay you were in quite as forlorn a
condition the other morning when you
snatched me from the wreck she said
Yet you did not hesitate then, when your
own life was In peril. Mr.. Trelawney, take
my hand"
did as she requested; clasped the little
hand in both of mine and raised it respect
fully to my lips. In doing so l caught
| glimpse of George Redruth's face; it was
black as the pit mouth.
Now, my dear Madeline" he said, impa-
tiently, 'shall we go back?''
But Madeline was not ready, or perhaps
! she was too imperious to be so ordered by
| her cousin. She had abandoned all inten-
ton of descending the mine; but she was,
i nevertheless, anxious to inspect the outside
OF It.
But you can CO." she said mfr. Ire
/ lawney will escort me"
"Nonsensep returned her cousin. tire
lawney has got his work TO attend to. will
| stay."
| And he did stay, for fully two hours; at
the end of which time she allowed him to
take her away
Three other days passed without sign
from her; then | encountered her again. 1t
] was in the evening, when | was walking
home. This time she was alone; except for
the servant who walked at a respectful dis
tanee behind her. She came up to me un-
reservedIy, and again held forth her hand.
Having shaken hands with her, paused, not
very well knowing what TO do; when she
helped me.
Il came to walk back with you," she said.
| do you mind?'
II mindF' / repeated, In amazement.
for me to walk beside you.''
| She gave little impatient toss of her head,
and we walked on together. For some time
| not word was spoken, but felt that she
was watching me keenly. Presently she
| said:
DO you know what have been doing,
Mr.. Trelawney?'
NO"
Il have been trying to find in y0u one trace
of the boy knew, years ago, at Ministers
and have failed"
Il don't understand
| NO? Well, will explain. The boy l
| knew was kind to me; frank, open-hearted,
! generous. You are somewhat unfriendly;
reserved, harsh, and, if may say SO, churl-
! ish. Why are you SO changed?'
Il am not changed, Miss Graham; or, II I
am, it is but with the tide of fortune, which
| has ebbed and not flowed with me since we
met before. When we were at MINISTER'S /
| believed we were equals, but now"
"l es; now
lyon are Miss Graham; am the overseer
| of your Cousins mine'
''rhen you wish us to remain strangers?'
Il think it would be better"
'tAhi you are crueler than l thought; Il
| you will not accept my friendship for the
! sake of the old days when we were boy and
| girl together, you will, at least, have some
| pity upon me. / am lonely and among
| strangers here. You seem like an old friend.
| If you will suffer me to talk to you some
| times it will make my stay here more pleas
| ant"
| Her pleading won the day. and we became
| friends. / never went to Redruth House,
| and she never came to the cottage. l never
| sought her, but quite innocently and frankly
| she sought me. We often went on the moor
| when, after my long days work, was max
| ing my way home, and ! could not regard
these meetings as purely accidental on her
| part She was always accompanied by the
| black girl, until one evening, when she ap-
peared alone
| You are looking for Anitar' said Made
| line, noting my glance. ''She has gone to
| London with my aunt's maid. and will not
return till close ON midnight Ny cousin
| coun5eled my staying at home tonight, or
| allowing him to accompany me- l knew I
should not want for company. so refused to
submit I may not enjoy these walks much
| longer"
| "What! are you going awayr' asked, in
| some alarm.
| She shrugged her shoulders "Perhapsi
| don't know; certainly l shall have TO go
| sooner or later, but trust Ii may be sooner.
| When was shipwreeked here / was on my
way to London, TO take up my abode with
| some other relations. They are troubling me
| with questions. so / have sent up Anita TO
| satisfy them asto my safety. Yet l suppose
| shall some day have to CO."
| She tried to speak earelessly, yet fancied
| l detected ring of regret In her voice, and l
| quailed before the feeling OF desolstion
which her words brought TO my heart
| In that one sentence she had unwittingly
| shown to me myself-revealed to me the ter
| rible secret which had been vaiDly trying
/ TO crush from my heart. Even as she had
| influenced my boyhood, she influenced my
/ manhood
/ | loved her with the same unthinking love
which had flied my soul as boy-loyed her
/ even while felt that such love might be
the means OF blighting my life. knew that
| no good could come OF 1t, for was she not as
| far removed from me as the moon was re-
moved from the sea: and yet felt at that
| moment that to love her so, be it only for
one hour. was worth whole centuries of pain
She walked with me as far as the cottage,
| and. pausing at the little wieket-gate, gave
| me her hand
.,Good-night Mr.. Treiawney,' she said,
softly. .sit is not goodbye yetv'
Again raised her hand, and pressed II to
my lips: then dinily remember entering the
cottage; but all seemed unreal-save the one
oyerrnastering fact that fool that was, I
| was the slave of Madeline Grahami
CHAPTER XVI
BIZ THE SEA
The next dav was SUNDAY. rose early