Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1892-03-10

aAger is not to be dsfed; 80 he said
sullenly:
II will do as you wish"
He took the papers, and Immediately
departed. He had another interview on
hand that night. He waited until he saw
Gerald enter his own handsome dwelling;
then he scaled the great brick walls, and
watched his further movements. he
went, as Richard expected, to his Office,
looked over the reports of the under
viewers, and then lit sogar and sat
down to smoke. There was a low, open
window, opening on stone balcony, and
when GeraW rose for something he
waIited, Richard boldly entered the
room, and was standing before his chair
when he turned TO II.
Gerald's first thought was: There is
something wrong at the pitt" and he said.
impatiently:
"Now, my man, what's wrong?"
II am not your man, Gerald Peel.
propose, indeed, to be your father-in-
law"
Then Gerald knew that he had either to
deal with lunatic 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 oil: 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 il. 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
| go TO America"
Gerald heard oil 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 60. 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 tho neces-
sity of his position, quite cowed the
wretched man. Ho 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 heI
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
ut any rate, Mary was the same, and i
was Mary he was going to marry. He
J made some excuse for hurrying forward
matters, and i'll spite of the suggestions
J 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. Al
, the years went by, and lovely boys ant
girls began to patter about the halls ant
: gardens of Peel Place, and as she hersel
| grew in wifely grace. and in her hus
bands love, she acknowledged contin
: ually the blessing of her lot. Only on
l thing troubled her-hor mothers health
Though in the prime of life, she wa
gradually sinking under nervous com
plant that defed medical skill. Gerald
| who guessed the cause, tried often to Wi
D her confidence, but she repealed all hi
4 advances.
/. Thus more than FIVE years passe
l awoy. One night, about New Year;
Q the rector was sitting among his house
Y hold, full of the joy and spirit of tn
: time. Suddenly he was called ava
I from them, and found waiting for him
r lady in the widest terror and distres;
whom he easily recognized as Mrs. A
lonby.
n ooh, sirv' she cried; "there is N
r time for words-come with me Instant
d to Saltham pit! will explain all as W
|, 60"
n Thers is something so compelling in
great sorrow, that he cloaked himseI
silently and followed her into a waitin
d carriage. As it drove through the ma
o row, black streets, she told him the ou
lines of her sad story.
n "And this villain, who has been tol
turing you to death for five years,
|? you say"
u sis my husband, and he is lying, dy
ing, in the pit. A large mass of COT
fell on him this afternoon, and he can
r, be moved. What could do?" she crie
ID pitifully. "How could tell Gerald m
10 Mary of the horror of such connection
Oh, my friend, some one must speak
III him-some one must pray with him--ar
y, must see the end of him, but | dare N
o: go alone.
90 Indeed, even the rector turned si'
:" and giddy when he saw the road thu
" must take. The shaft of Saltham
re close to the sea, absolutely in the shing
tn and nearly nine hundred feet deep. II
,u banksman expressed no surprise at su
re visitors, and, as they refused to cham
nd their clothing, gave them each lar
tn overall, and putting them into the hu
nd basket, let them down" The night J
ke lays were coming up, and basket OF n
of men, their candles cleaning in the da
abyss, passed them on the way.
In few minutes they touched I
u ground, and craggy, dark, uneven
~ scent led them to the interior OF tho
The path was high enough to allow thu
-. .