St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1892-04-09

Uerald enter his own handsome dwelling
then he scaled the great brick walls, an
watched his further movements. H
went, as Richard expected, to his office
looked over the reports of the under
viewers, and then lit q segar and sa
down to smoke. There was low, opel
window, opening on q stone balcony, ant
whom Gerald rose for something h
wanted, Richard boldly entered tn
room, and was standing before his chat
when he turned to it,
Gerald's first thought was: "There il
something wrong at the pit, i" 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 tt
deal with lunatic or great sorrow, anC
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 so well, and thought Gerald had
better give him some money and let him
60 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 and
daughter. Let me stand between them
and you
The calm unselfshness and the air of
authority which was partly natural to
Gerald and partly acquired by the neces-
sIty OF his position, quito 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
logging 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 all the glory of his love. But,
at any rate, Mary was the same, and it
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 and |
girls began to patter about the halls and
gardens OF Peel Place, and as she herself /
grew in wifely grace, and in her hus-
bands love, she acknowledged contin-
ually the blessing of her lot. Only one |
thing troubled her-her mothers health. |
Though i'll the prime of life, she was
gradually sinking under Il nervous COM
plant that defied medical skill Gerald,
who guessed the cause, tried often to win
her confidence, but she repealed all his
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 the
time. Suddenly he was called away
from them, and found waiting for him q
lady in the widest terror and distress,
whom he easily recognized as Mrs. AL
Ionby.
ooh, STRIP she cried; "there is no
time tor words-come with me instantly
20 Saltham pit. will explain all as we
20"
There is something so compelling in a
great sorrow, that he cloaked himself
silently and followed her into u waiting
carriage. AS it drove through the mar
ow, black streets, she told him the out !
ines OF her sad story.
"And this villain, who has been tor ,
urlng you to death for five years, is
vou say"
"1s my husband, and he is living, dy-
ng, in the pit. A large mass of coal
ell on him this afternoon, and he can't
re moved. What could do?" she cried, ,
'itifully. CHOW could | tell Gerald and !,
larry OF the horror Of such connection? ::
IN, my friend, some one must speak to :,
one must pray with him-and q
must see the end of him, but | dare not =
% alone"
Indeed, even the rector turned sick !,
nd giddy when he saw the road they a"
lust take. The shaft of Saltham is a
lose to the sea, absolutely in the single, =
nd nearly nine hundred feet deep. The
anksman expressed no surprise at such !
lsitors, and, as they refused to change =,
leir clothing, gave them each large :"
verall, and putting them into the huge =,
asket, let them down" The night re- II II
US were coming up, and basket of five ~ ~
en, their candles cleaning in the dark n
oyss, passed them on the way. "
In a few minutes they touched the =
round, and craggy, dark, uneven de- ~ ~
ent led them to the interior Of the pit. -
he path was high enough to allow them :" =,
follow their guide in an upright pos =. ~
ION. After going one thousand yards :"
straight line under the sea they came :.
little opening, where the dying man >. 81
y. The space was narrow and hot, and g c.
mly lit by a bit Of candle stuck against -
9 coal wall in piece of clay; and a
ere were some men yet at work about %
m. III
|