Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1892-01-01
THE
Master of the Mine,
The visions Of the earth were. gone and ied-
de saw the giant sea above hi head"

BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.

his iId4lu WIS OII Iilc Id tll VI the UOOr,
when he paused and looked back.
Say, missus,' he said, ''whar be Miss
Awnie GAVIN top
My uncle looked up curiOISIy: nv aunts
cneeKS grew as White as newfallen snow.
"Whar be she GAVIN to? she repeated,
helplessly.
''lsSr' continued Rudd, L seen her this
marning i Falmouth, but she were in a
mighty hurry and didn't see me. She were
dawn on the jatty, and she vent aboard the
steamer for Portsmouth"
Mr.. Rudd paused, thund.rstruck at the
effect Of his words.
My aunt, thoroughly exhausted by the
strain that had been put upn her that day,
sank, sObbing and moaning, INTO chair. my
uncle, who had risen from his seat, stood
glazing from one to another.
Presently he spoke.
What be al this about NY Awne?" he
cried. Speak, some 'un."
My aunt continued to Sob John Rudd
stared i'll mystitied manner at one and ALL
There's nothing TO alarm anybody" l
said; ''it'S all right"
But my uncle, who was g'owing terribly
excited, hardly seemed to hear me.
IF thar be aught wrong w my little wO-
man." he cried, tell me; | ain't child to
be petted, nor fool to be kept i the dark.
Speak, tell me what it is all ;b0utr'
So we told him all we knew and, putting
this and that together he gathered at least
one idea-that his child had for some rea-
son or other, voluntarily lefther home. He
stood like man stupehed, scarcely gather
ing the sense of the situation, and dimy
wondering why his wife received the news
so violently. In his simplicity, he did not
guess, as yet, that Armies fight might have
its origin in secret guilt and shame.
But when John Rudd was gone, and we
were left to ourselves, | looked at my uncle
and aunt both so changed within the last
few hours, and told them nv suspicious of
George Redruth. To my surprise they were
received Wi4h blank amazenent then with
Indignation. My uncle avered that | had
always disliked the young master, and it was
but natural | should credit lin with a daS-
tardly deed; but he himself refused to be-
lieve for one moment in the young mans
guilt. | felt convinced of it, however, in my
own mind; and in order to make sure, | de-
termined to 60 up to the masters house and
ascertain if he were from home.
The moment my uncle heard of my deter
mination he resolved to accompany me. On
asking for the master, we were shown into
the library; five minutes later the young man
himself walked into the room
The sight of him deprived me utterly of
the power of speech; my unce looked at NE
reproachfully and was SlenttOO
George Redruth, who had just been dining,
wore evening dress, and had never looked
handsomer, or more thoroughly at his ease,
in his life.
'Well!' he said, glancing At us pleasantly
he was evidently in an aftG-dinner mood
lis there anything L can do for either of
you?'
Master Jarge" said my uncle, earnestly,
''we'm in trouble, sir; in sore trouble"
Indeed! I'm sorry to hea' it,"
Il knawed you'd be sarry, ir," continued
my uncle, though faint no rffair O yourn,
God knawS; but my daughter sir, my little
Annie, she be run'd away!'
''Whatw he exclaimed. ''Run away from
home, do you mean? But why come to me?
What can | dO?"
"Naught, you can't do nat, 1t at ALL" said
my uncle, that's just it."
1t was an awkward situation for us all,
and we all felt it. My uncle nervously turn
ed his hat round and round; while the young
as every minute went by. | felt that some
explanation was demanded, and | gave it.
The fact is, SIR" l said, there is some
villain at the bottom of it, and we want to
find who that villain is.
And 50 you come to mel Really, l don't
see the force of all this, and have more i'm
pOrtant matters to detain me"
He opened the door, and ye seeing that
r al IoF%
the room and the house.
During the walk home, my uncle never
spoke. When we reached the cottage, he
sank down into a chair, and MD his face in
his hands.
Nothing more could be dore that night, so
we all went to bed; but not 10 sleep. Dur
ing the night [ frequently heard my uncle
walking with measured step up and down
his room, and in the gray of the morning he
came out to the kitchen to kindle fire.
looked at him, and scarcely knew him;
his face was white and lined like that of an
old man. He was quite calm; but there was
a sad look in his eyes which spoke of deep
set pain.
spoke to him of Annie, and told of plan
l had made to follow her and bring her
back; but he sadly shook hishead.
Nav, lad" said he, '''tis best left alawn;
she went o her avn free Will, and maybe
some day she'll come back; and till she does,
we'll wait, Well waltz
| felt he was right; it was better to wait.
Even if we had been rich folk, which we
were not, it would have beer difficult to find
her; as it was, the matter WIS hopeless. SO
we went on as usual with the old life. And
yet it was not the old life, fo' the house was
changed indeed-and there vas ever one va
cant chair
Several days after that sal night letter
came from Annie; it bore the London post
mark, and ran as follows:
MY DEAR PARENTs,-DO not grieve
about me. for am quite wei and in want of
nothing. Do not attempt to ind me, it would
be useless; but | shall soon some back, with
Gods blessing, and then you will learn why
| left without word. | amsOrry, so sorry,
you Will forgive me, for thesake OF the hap
Ply days that are gone awa.. Your loving
daughter, ANNIE"
My aunt read the letter aloud; then my
uncle took it from her, looked at it for long
time, and finally, without word, placed it
on the tire-watching it till twas consumed.
After that, for a long time to come, he never
spoke of Annie again; but lie dropped daily,
t.=c nan under the Welgn1OI some mortar
pain.
CHAPTER II.
THE GREAT STORM.
1t was now late in the year, and the winter
storms were beginning There were inter
walls of calm, cool weather when the wind