Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1892-02-25

E'I will do as you wish"
He took the papers, and immediatel,
departed. He had another interview OF
hand that night. He waited until he say
Gerald enter his own handsome dwelling
then he scaled the great brick walls, an,
watched his further movements. IL
went, as Richard expected, to his Office
looked over the reports of the under
viewers, and then lit soger and sa
down to smoke. There was low, opeI
window, opening on stone balcony, an'
when Gerald rose for something h
wanted, Richard boldly entered the
room, and was standing before his chaii
when he turned to it.
Gerald's first thought was: "There is
something wrong at the pit and he said
impatiently:
'Now, my man, what's wrong?"
81 am not your man, Gerald Peel. |
propose, indeed, to be your father-in-
law"
Then Gerald knew that he had either to
deal with lunetic or great sorrow, and
he closed the window, and said:
"Sit down, sir, and say what you have
got to say"
Richard did not spare himself. He
| told all: How he had killed his mother
with sorrow, and ruined his wife, forged
his friends name, and been forgiven,
and then robbed bank and been trans
ported for fourteen years for it. He
said he had come back to England
eighteen months ago. but had only just
found his wife. Didn't want to make
trouble, especially as Mary was going
to marry 80 well, and thought Gerald had
better give him some money and let him
go to America.
Gerald heard all in silence; then TAX
ing out his purse, counted out twenty
pounds.
'Will that pay pou to hold your
tongue"
Make it fifty"
Gerald made it fifty, and said;
"Now go. If you really go to
America, you may write every year for
the same; but don't annoy your wife a.d
daughter. Let me stand between them
and you"
The calm unselfishness and the air of
authority which was partly natural to
Gerald and partly acquired by the neces-
sity of his position, quite cowed the
wretched man. He skunk out into the
darkness; and Gerald thought out the
new aspect of his position.
He must hurry forward his marriage.
Mary was not to blame; but if his family
knew, there would be no end of trouble.
And these poor women! Surely they
needed his protection, with this villain
dogging their footsteps.
The next morning he received another
heavy blow. Mrs. Allonby told him that
her secretary had been robbed of her
Saltham papers and some jewelry, and
that the police had been notified He
saw at once how the affair lay. He knew
who was the thief, and he suspected Mrs.
Allonby knew also. But he had deter
mined not to blame her too much. He
estimated the horror of her position, and
boldly faced the disappointment that had
fallen on oil the glory of his love. But,
at any rate, Mary was the same, and il
was Mary he was going to marry. He
made some excuse for hurrying forward
matters, and ill spite of the suggestions
of his friends that the missing papers
ought to be found first, he married Mary
Allonby early in June.
Perhaps no wife was ever happier. As
the years went by, and lovely boys ant
girls began to patter about the halls ant
gardens of Peel Place, and as she hersel1
grew in wifely grace, and in her hus
bands love, she acknowledged contin
ually the blessing of her lot. Only on
thing troubled her-her mothers health
Though in the prime of life, she wa
gradually sinking under nervous com
plant that defied medical skill. Gerald
who guessed the cause, tried often to Wi
her confidence, but she repelied all hi
advances.
Thus more than five years passed
away. One night, about New Years
the rector was sitting among his house
hold, full of the joy and spirit of tn
time. Suddenly he was called ava
from them, and found waiting for him
lady in the widest terror and distress
whom he easily recognized as Mrs. AL
lonby.
"Oh, sir!' she cried; "there is n
time for words-come with me instant
to Saltham pit! l will explain all as W
60"
There is something SO compelling in
great sorrow, that he cloaked himself
silently and followed her into waiting
carriage. As it drove through the mar
row, black streets, she told him the out
lines of her sad story.
"And this villain, who has been tor.
turing you to death for FIVE years, is
you say"
as my husband, and he is lying, dy-
ing, in the pit. A large mass of coal
fell on him this afternoon, and he cant
be moved. What could | do?" she cried
pitifully. GLOW could tell Gerald and
Mary of the horror of such a connection:
Oh, my friend, some one must speak to
him-some one must pray with him-and
| must see the end of him, but dare not
| go alone"
Indeed, even the rector turned sick
and giddy when he saw the road they
must take. The shaft of Saltham is
close to the sea, absolutely in the shingle
and nearly nine hundred feet deep. The
banksman expressed no surprise at such
visitors, and, as they refused to change
their clothing, gave them each large
overall, and putting them into the huge
basket, let them down" The night re-
lays were coming up, and basket of five
men, their candles cleaning in the dark
abyss, passed them on the way.
In few minutes they touched the
ground, and craggy, dark, uneven de-
scent led them to the interior of the pit.
The path was high enough to allow them
to Follow their guide in an upright pos.
ition. After going one thousand yards
in straight line under the sea they cam,
to little opening, where the dying man
lay. The space was narrow and hot, ,anC
dimlv liz hv a hit of oondIa atucl apoins