rocky roof above Coal Town,” said James Starr, “that the spacious
firmament appears to us like a profound abyss into which we have, as it
were, a desire to plunge. Is that what you feel, Nell?”
“Yes, Mr. Starr, it is exactly like that,” said Nell. “It makes me feel
giddy.”
“Ah! you will soon get over that, Nell,” said Harry. “You will get used
to the outer world, and most likely forget all about our dark coal pit.”
“No, Harry, never!” said Nell, and she put her hand over her eyes, as
though she would recall the remembrance of everything she had lately
quitted.
Between the silent dwellings of the city, the party passed along Leith
Walk, and went round the Calton Hill, where stood, in the light of the
gray dawn, the buildings of the Observatory and Nelson’s Monument. By
Regent’s Bridge and the North Bridge they at last reached the lower
extremity of the Canongate. The town still lay wrapt in slumber.
Nell pointed to a large building in the center of an open space, asking,
“What great confused mass is that?”
“That confused mass, Nell, is the palace of the ancient kings of
Scotland; that is Holyrood, where many a sad scene has been enacted! The
historian can here invoke many a royal shade; from those of the early
Scottish kings to that of the unhappy Mary Stuart, and the French king,
Charles X. When day breaks, however, Nell, this palace will not look
so very gloomy. Holyrood, with its four embattled towers, is not unlike
some handsome country house. But let us pursue our way. There, just
above the ancient Abbey of Holyrood, are the superb cliffs called
Salisbury Crags. Arthur’s Seat rises above them, and that is where
we are going. From the summit of Arthur’s Seat, Nell, your eyes shall
behold the sun appear above the horizon seaward.”
They entered the King’s Park, then, gradually ascending they passed
across the Queen’s Drive, a splendid carriageway encircling the hill,
which we owe to a few lines in one of Sir Walter Scott’s romances.
Arthur’s Seat is in truth only a hill, seven hundred and fifty feet
high, which stands alone amid surrounding heights. In less than half
an hour, by an easy winding path, James Starr and his party reached the
crest of the crouching lion, which, seen from the west, Arthur’s Seat so
much resembles. There, all four seated themselves; and James Starr, ever
ready with quotations from the great Scottish novelist, simply said,
“Listen to what is written by Sir Walter Scott in the eighth chapter
of the Heart of Mid-Lothian. ‘If I were to choose a spot from which the
rising or setting sun could be seen to the greatest possible advantage,
it would be from this neighborhood.’ Now watch, Nell! the sun will soon
appear, and for the first time you will contemplate its splendor.”
The maiden turned her eyes eastward. Harry, keeping close beside
her, observed her with anxious interest. Would the first beams of day
overpower her feelings? All remained quiet, even Jack Ryan. A faint
streak of pale rose tinted the light vapors of the horizon. It was the
first ray of light attacking the laggards of the night. Beneath the hill
lay the silent city, massed confusedly in the twilight of dawn. Here and
there lights twinkled among the houses of the old town. Westward rose
many hill-tops, soon to be illuminated by tips of fire.
Now the distant horizon of the sea became more plainly visible. The
scale of colors fell into the order of the solar. Every instant they
increased in intensity, rose color became red, red became fiery,
daylight dawned. Nell now glanced towards the city, of which the
outlines became more distinct. Lofty monuments, slender steeples emerged
from the gloom; a kind of ashy light was spread abroad. At length one
solitary ray struck on the maiden’s sight. It was that ray of green
which, morning or evening, is reflected upwards from the sea when the
horizon is clear.
An instant afterwards, Nell turned, and pointing towards a bright
prominent point in the New Town, “Fire!” cried she.
“No, Nell, that is no fire,” said Harry. “The sun has touched with gold
the top of Sir Walter Scott’s monument”--and, indeed, the extreme point
of the monument blazed like the light of a pharos.
It was day--the sun arose--his disc seemed to glitter as though he
indeed emerged from the waters of the sea. Appearing at first very large
from the effects of refraction, he contracted as he rose and assumed the
perfectly circular form. Soon no eye could endure the dazzling splendor;
it was as though the mouth of a furnace was opened through the sky.
Nell closed her eyes, but her eyelids could not exclude the glare, and
she pressed her fingers over them. Harry advised her to turn in the
opposite direction. “Oh, no,” said she, “my eyes must get used to look
at what yours can bear to see!”
Even through her hands Nell perceived a rosy light, which became more
white as the sun rose above the horizon. As her sight became accustomed
to it, her eyelids were raised, and at length her eyes drank in the
light of day.
The good child knelt down, exclaiming, “Oh Lord God! how beautiful is
Thy creation!” Then she rose and looked around. At her feet extended the
panorama of Edinburgh--the clear, distinct lines of streets in the New
Town, and the irregular mass of houses, with their confused network of
streets and lanes, which constitutes Auld Reekie, properly so called.
Two heights commanded the entire city; Edinburgh Castle, crowning its
huge basaltic rock, and the Calton Hill, bearing on its rounded summit,
among other monuments, ruins built to represent those of the Parthenon
at Athens.
Fine roadways led in all directions from the capital. To the north, the
coast of the noble Firth of Forth was indented by a deep bay, in which
could be seen the seaport town of Leith, between which and this Modern
Athens of the north ran a street, straight as that leading to the
Piraeus.
Beyond the wide Firth could be seen the soft outlines of the county
of Fife, while beneath the spectator stretched the yellow sands of
Portobello and Newhaven.
Nell could not speak. Her lips murmured a word or two indistinctly; she
trembled, became giddy, her strength failed her; overcome by the purity
of the air and the sublimity of the scene, she sank fainting into
Harry’s arms, who, watching her closely, was ready to support her.
The youthful maiden, hitherto entombed in the massive depths of the
earth, had now obtained an idea of the universe--of the works both of
God and of man. She had looked upon town and country, and beyond these,
into the immensity of the sea, the infinity of the heavens.
CHAPTER XV. LOCH LOMOND AND LOCH KATRINE
HARRY bore Nell carefully down the steeps of Arthur’s Seat, and,
accompanied by James Starr and Jack Ryan, they reached Lambert’s Hotel.
There a good breakfast restored their strength, and they began to make
further plans for an excursion to the Highland lakes.
Nell was now refreshed, and able to look boldly forth into the sunshine,
while her lungs with ease inhaled the free and healthful air. Her eyes
learned gladly to know the harmonious varieties of color as they rested
on the green trees, the azure skies, and all the endless shades of
lovely flowers and plants.
The railway train, which they entered at the Waverley Station, conveyed
Nell and her friends to Glasgow. There, from the new bridge across the
Clyde, they watched the curious sea-like movement of the river. After
a night’s rest at Comrie’s Royal Hotel, they betook themselves to the
terminus of the Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway, from whence a train would
rapidly carry them, by way of Dumbarton and Balloch, to the southern
extremity of Loch Lomond.
“Now for the land of Rob Roy and Fergus MacIvor!--the scenery
immortalized by the poetical descriptions of Walter Scott,” exclaimed
James Starr. “You don’t know this country, Jack?”
“Only by its songs, Mr. Starr,” replied Jack; “and judging by those, it
must be grand.”
“So it is, so it is!” cried the engineer, “and our dear Nell shall see
it to the best advantage.”
A steamboat, the SINCLAIR by name, awaited tourists about to make the
excursion to the lakes. Nell and her companions went on board. The day
had begun in brilliant sunshine, free from the British fogs which so
often veil the skies.
The passengers were determined to lose none of the beauties of nature to
be displayed during the thirty miles’ voyage. Nell, seated between James
Starr and Harry, drank in with every faculty the magnificent poetry
with which lovely Scottish scenery is fraught. Numerous small isles and
islets soon appeared, as though thickly sown on the bosom of the lake.
The SINCLAIR steamed her way among them, while between them glimpses
could be had of quiet valleys, or wild rocky gorges on the mainland.
“Nell,” said James Starr, “every island here has its legend, perhaps
its song, as well as the mountains which overshadow the lake. One may,
without much exaggeration, say that the history of this country is
written in gigantic characters of mountains and islands.”
Nell listened, but these fighting stories made her sad. Why all that
bloodshed on plains which to her seemed enormous, and where surely there
must have been room for everybody?
The shores of the lake form a little harbor at Luss. Nell could for a
moment catch sight of the old tower of its ancient castle. Then, the
SINCLAIR turning northward, the tourists gazed upon Ben Lomond, towering
nearly 3,000 feet above the level of the lake.
“Oh, what a noble mountain!” cried Nell; “what a view there must be from
the top!”
“Yes, Nell,” answered James Starr; “see how haughtily its peak rises
from amidst the thicket of oaks, birches, and heather, which clothe the
lower portion of the mountain! From thence one may see two-thirds of old
Caledonia. This eastern side of the lake was the special abode of the
clan McGregor. At no great distance, the struggles of the Jacobites and
Hanoverians repeatedly dyed with blood these lonely glens. Over these
scenes shines the pale moon, called in old ballads ‘Macfarlane’s
lantern.’ Among these rocks still echo the immortal names of Rob Roy and
McGregor Campbell.”
As the SINCLAIR advanced along the base of the mountain, the country
became more and more abrupt in character. Trees were only scattered
here and there; among them were the willows, slender wands of which were
formerly used for hanging persons of low degree.
“To economize hemp,” remarked James Starr.
The lake narrowed very much as it stretched northwards.
The steamer passed a few more islets, Inveruglas, Eilad-whow, where
stand some ruins of a stronghold of the clan MacFarlane. At length the
head of the loch was reached, and the SINCLAIR stopped at Inversnaid.
Leaving Loch Arklet on the left, a steep ascent led to the Inn of
Stronachlacar, on the banks of Loch Katrine.
There, at the end of a light pier, floated a small steamboat, named,
as a matter of course, the Rob Roy. The travelers immediately went on
board; it was about to start. Loch Katrine is only ten miles in length;
its width never exceeds two miles. The hills nearest it are full of a
character peculiar to themselves.
“Here we are on this famous lake,” said James Starr. “It has been
compared to an eel on account of its length and windings: and justly so.
They say that it never freezes. I know nothing about that, but what we
want to think of is, that here are the scenes of the adventures in the
Lady of the Lake. I believe, if friend Jack looked about him carefully,
he might see, still gliding over the surface of the water, the shade of
the slender form of sweet Ellen Douglas.”
“To be sure, Mr. Starr,” replied Jack; “why should I not? I may just as
well see that pretty girl on the waters of Loch Katrine, as those ugly
ghosts on Loch Malcolm in the coal pit.”
It was by this time three o’clock in the afternoon. The less hilly
shores of Loch Katrine westward extended like a picture framed between
Ben An and Ben Venue. At the distance of half a mile was the entrance to
the narrow bay, where was the landing-place for our tourists, who meant
to return to Stirling by Callander.
Nell appeared completely worn out by the continued excitement of the
day. A faint ejaculation was all she was able to utter in token of
admiration as new objects of wonder or beauty met her gaze. She required
some hours of rest, were it but to impress lastingly the recollection of
all she had seen.
Her hand rested in Harry’s, and, looking earnestly at her, he said,
“Nell, dear Nell, we shall soon be home again in the gloomy region of
the coal mine. Shall you not pine for what you have seen during these
few hours spent in the glorious light of day?”
“No, Harry,” replied the girl; “I shall like to think about it, but I am
glad to go back with you to our dear old home.”
“Nell!” said Harry, vainly attempting to steady his voice, “are you
willing to be bound to me by the most sacred tie? Could you marry me,
Nell?”
“Yes, Harry, I could, if you are sure that I am able to make you happy,”
answered the maiden, raising her innocent eyes to his.
Scarcely had she pronounced these words when an unaccountable phenomenon
took place. The Rob Roy, still half a mile from land, experienced a
violent shock. She suddenly grounded. No efforts of the engine could
move her.
The cause of this accident was simply that Loch Katrine was all at once
emptied, as though an enormous fissure had opened in its bed. In a few
seconds it had the appearance of a sea beach at low water. Nearly the
whole of its contents had vanished into the bosom of the earth.
“My friends!” exclaimed James Starr, as the cause of this marvel became
suddenly clear to him, “God help New Aberfoyle!”
CHAPTER XVI. A FINAL THREAT
ON that day, in the colliery of New Aberfoyle, work was going on in the
usual regular way. In the distance could be heard the crash of great
charges of dynamite, by which the carboniferous rocks were blasted.
Here masses of coal were loosened by pick-ax and crowbar; there the
perforating machines, with their harsh grating, bored through the masses
of sandstone and schist.
Hollow, cavernous noises resounded on all sides. Draughts of air rushed
along the ventilating galleries, and the wooden swing-doors slammed
beneath their violent gusts. In the lower tunnels, trains of trucks
kept passing along at the rate of fifteen miles an hour, while at their
approach electric bells warned the workmen to cower down in the refuge
places. Lifts went incessantly up and down, worked by powerful engines
on the surface of the soil. Coal Town was throughout brilliantly lighted
by the electric lamps at full power.
Mining operations were being carried on with the greatest activity; coal
was being piled incessantly into the trucks, which went in hundreds
to empty themselves into the corves at the bottom of the shaft. While
parties of miners who had labored during the night were taking needful
rest, the others worked without wasting an hour.
Old Simon Ford and Madge, having finished their dinner, were resting at
the door of their cottage. Simon smoked a good pipe of tobacco, and from
time to time the old couple spoke of Nell, of their boy, of Mr. Starr,
and wondered how they liked their trip to the surface of the earth.
Where would they be now? What would they be doing? How could they stay
so long away from the mine without feeling homesick?
Just then a terrific roaring noise was heard. It was like the sound of a
mighty cataract rushing down into the mine. The old people rose hastily.
They perceived at once that the waters of Loch Malcolm were rising. A
great wave, unfurling like a billow, swept up the bank and broke against
the walls of the cottage. Simon caught his wife in his arms, and carried
her to the upper part of their dwelling.
At the same moment, cries arose from all parts of Coal Town, which was
threatened by a sudden inundation. The inhabitants fled for safety to
the top of the schist rocks bordering the lake; terror spread in all
directions; whole families in frantic haste rushed towards the tunnel in
order to reach the upper regions of the pit.
It was feared that the sea had burst into the colliery, for its
galleries and passages penetrated as far as the Caledonian Canal. In
that case the entire excavation, vast as it was, would be completely
flooded. Not a single inhabitant of New Aberfoyle would escape death.
But when the foremost fugitives reached the entrance to the tunnel, they
encountered Simon Ford, who had quitted his cottage. “Stop, my friends,
stop!” shouted the old man; “if our town is to be overwhelmed, the
floods will rush faster than you can; no one can possibly escape. But
see! the waters are rising no further! it appears to me the danger is
over.”
“And our comrades at the far end of the works--what about them?” cried
some of the miners.
“There is nothing to fear for them,” replied Simon; “they are working on
a higher level than the bed of the loch.”
It was soon evident that the old man was in the right. The sudden influx
of water had rushed to the very lowest bed of the vast mine, and its
only ultimate effect was to raise the level of Loch Malcolm a few feet.
Coal Town was uninjured, and it was reasonable to hope that no one had
perished in the flood of water which had descended to the depths of the
mine never yet penetrated by the workmen.
Simon and his men could not decide whether this inundation was owing to
the overflow of a subterranean sheet of water penetrating fissures in
the solid rock, or to some underground torrent breaking through its worn
bed, and precipitating itself to the lowest level of the mine. But that
very same evening they knew what to think about it, for the local papers
published an account of the marvelous phenomenon which Loch Katrine had
exhibited.
The surprising news was soon after confirmed by the four travelers, who,
returning with all possible speed to the cottage, learned with extreme
satisfaction that no serious damage was done in New Aberfoyle.
The bed of Loch Katrine had fairly given way. The waters had suddenly
broken through by an enormous fissure into the mine beneath. Of Sir
Walter Scott’s favorite loch there was not left enough to wet the pretty
foot of the Lady of the Lake; all that remained was a pond of a few
acres at the further extremity.
This singular event made a profound sensation in the country. It was a
thing unheard of that a lake should in the space of a few minutes empty
itself, and disappear into the bowels of the earth. There was nothing
for it but to erase Loch Katrine from the map of Scotland until (by
public subscription) it could be refilled, care being of course taken,
in the first place, to stop the rent up tight. This catastrophe would
have been the death of Sir Walter Scott, had he still been in the world.
The accident was explicable when it was ascertained that, between the
bed of the lake and the vast cavity beneath, the geological strata
had become reduced to a thin layer, incapable of longer sustaining the
weight of water.
Now, although to most people this event seemed plainly due to natural
causes, yet to James Starr and his friends, Simon and Harry Ford, the
question constantly recurred, was it not rather to be attributed to
malevolence? Uneasy suspicions continually harassed their minds. Was
their evil genius about to renew his persecution of those who ventured
to work this rich mine?
At the cottage, some days later, James Starr thus discussed the matter
with the old man and his son: “Well, Simon,” said he, “to my thinking
we must class this circumstance with the others for which we still seek
elucidation, although it is no doubt possible to explain it by natural
causes.”
“I am quite of your mind, Mr. James,” replied Simon, “but take my
advice, and say nothing about it; let us make all researches ourselves.”
“Oh, I know the result of such research beforehand!” cried the engineer.
“And what will it be, then?”
“We shall find proofs of malevolence, but not the malefactor.”
“But he exists! he is there! Where can he lie concealed? Is it possible
to conceive that the most depraved human being could, single-handed,
carry out an idea so infernal as that of bursting through the bed of a
lake? I believe I shall end by thinking, like Jack Ryan, that the evil
demon of the mine revenges himself on us for having invaded his domain.”
Nell was allowed to hear as little as possible of these discussions.
Indeed, she showed no desire to enter into them, although it was very
evident that she shared in the anxieties of her adopted parents. The
melancholy in her countenance bore witness to much mental agitation.
It was at length resolved that James Starr, together with Simon and
Harry, should return to the scene of the disaster, and endeavor to
satisfy themselves as to the cause of it. They mentioned their project
to no one. To those unacquainted with the group of facts on which it
was based, the opinion of Starr and his friends could not fail to appear
wholly inadmissible.
A few days later, the three friends proceeded in a small boat to examine
the natural pillars on which had rested the solid earth forming the
basin of Loch Katrine. They discovered that they had been right in
suspecting that the massive columns had been undermined by blasting.
The blackened traces of explosion were to be seen, the waters having
subsided below the level of these mysterious operations Thus the fall of
a portion of the vast vaulted dome was proved to have been premeditated
by man, and by man’s hand had it been effected.
“It is impossible to doubt it,” said James Starr; “and who can say what
might not have happened had the sea, instead of a little loch, been let
in upon us?”
“You may well say that,” cried the old overman, with a feeling of pride
in his beloved mine; “for nothing less than a sea would have drowned our
Aberfoyle. But, once more, what possible interest could any human being
have in the destruction of our works?”
“It is quite incomprehensible,” replied James Starr. “This case is
something perfectly unlike that of a band of common criminals, who,
concealing themselves in dens and caves, go forth to rob and pillage the
surrounding country. The evil deeds of such men would certainly, in the
course of three years have betrayed their existence and lurking-places.
Neither can it be, as I sometimes used to think, that smugglers or
coiners carried on their illegal practices in some distant and unknown
corner of these prodigious caverns, and were consequently anxious to
drive us out of them. But no one coins false money or obtains contraband
goods only to conceal them!
“Yet it is clear that an implacable enemy has sworn the ruin of New
Aberfoyle, and that some interest urges him to seek in every possible
way to wreak his hatred upon us. He appears to be too weak to act
openly, and lays his schemes in secret; but displays such intelligence
as to render him a most formidable foe.
“My friends, he must understand better than we do the secrets of our
domain, since he has all this time eluded our vigilance. He must be
a man experienced in mining, skilled beyond the most skillful--that’s
certain, Simon! We have proof enough of that.
“Let me see! Have you never had a personal enemy, to whom your
suspicions might point? Think well! There is such a thing as hatred
which time never softens. Go back to recollections of your earliest
days. What befalls us appears the work of a stern and patient will, and
to explain it demands every effort of thought and memory.”
Simon did not answer immediately--his mind evidently engaged in a close
and candid survey of his past life. Presently, raising his head, “No,”
said he; “no! Heaven be my witness, neither Madge nor I have ever
injured anybody. We cannot believe that we have a single enemy in the
world.”
“Ah! if Nell would only speak!” cried the engineer.
“Mr. Starr--and you, father,” said Harry, “I do beg of you to keep
silence on this matter, and not to question my poor Nell. I know she
is very anxious and uneasy; and I feel positive that some great secret
painfully oppresses her heart. Either she knows nothing it would be of
any use for us to hear, or she considers it her duty to be silent. It is
impossible to doubt her affection for us--for all of us. If at a future
time she informs me of what she has hitherto concealed from us, you
shall know about it immediately.”
“So be it, then, Harry,” answered the engineer; “and yet I must say
Nell’s silence, if she knows anything, is to me perfectly inexplicable.”
Harry would have continued her defense; but the engineer stopped him,
saying, “All right, Harry; we promise to say no more about it to your
future wife.”
“With my father’s consent she shall be my wife without further delay.”
“My boy,” said old Simon, “your marriage shall take place this very day
month. Mr. Starr, will you undertake the part of Nell’s father?”
“You may reckon upon me for that, Simon,” answered the engineer.
They then returned to the cottage, but said not a word of the result of
their examinations in the mine, so that to the rest of its inhabitants,
the bursting in of the vaulted roof of the caverns continued to be
regarded as a mere accident. There was but a loch the less in Scotland.
Nell gradually resumed her customary duties, and Harry made good use of
her little visit to the upper air, in the instructions he gave her. She
enjoyed the recollections of life above ground, yet without regretting
it. The somber region she had loved as a child, and in which her wedded
life would be spent, was as dear to her as ever.
The approaching marriage created great excitement in New Aberfoyle. Good
wishes poured in on all sides, and foremost among them were Jack Ryan’s.
He was detected busily practicing his best songs in preparation for the
great day, which was to be celebrated by the whole population of Coal
Town.
During the month preceding the wedding-day, there were more accidents
occurring in New Aberfoyle than had ever been known in the place. One
would have thought the approaching union of Harry and Nell actually
provoked one catastrophe after another. These misfortunes happened
chiefly at the further and lowest extremity of the works, and the cause
of them was always in some way mysterious.
Thus, for instance, the wood-work of a distant gallery was discovered to
be in flames, which were extinguished by Harry and his companions at the
risk of their lives, by employing engines filled with water and carbonic
acid, always kept ready in case of necessity. The lamp used by the
incendiary was found; but no clew whatever as to who he could be.
Another time an inundation took place in consequence of the stanchions
of a water-tank giving way; and Mr. Starr ascertained beyond a doubt
that these supports had first of all been partially sawn through. Harry,
who had been overseeing the works near the place at the time, was buried
in the falling rubbish, and narrowly escaped death.
A few days afterwards, on the steam tramway, a train of trucks, which
Harry was passing along, met with an obstacle on the rails, and was
overturned. It was then discovered that a beam had been laid across the
line. In short, events of this description became so numerous that
the miners were seized with a kind of panic, and it required all the
influence of their chiefs to keep them on the works.
“You would think that there was a whole band of these ruffians,” Simon
kept saying, “and we can’t lay hands on a single one of them.”
Search was made in all directions. The county police were on the alert
night and day, yet discovered nothing. The evil intentions seeming
specially designed to injure Harry. Starr forbade him to venture alone
beyond the ordinary limits of the works.
They were equally careful of Nell, although, at Harry’s entreaty, these
malicious attempts to do harm were concealed from her, because they
might remind her painfully of former times. Simon and Madge watched over
her by day and by night with a sort of stern solicitude. The poor
child yielded to their wishes, without a remark or a complaint. Did she
perceive that they acted with a view to her interest? Probably she did.
And on her part, she seemed to watch over others, and was never easy
unless all whom she loved were together in the cottage.
When Harry came home in the evening, she could not restrain expressions
of child-like joy, very unlike her usual manner, which was rather
reserved than demonstrative. As soon as day broke, she was astir before
anyone else, and her constant uneasiness lasted all day until the hour
of return home from work.
Harry became very anxious that their marriage should take place. He
thought that, when the irrevocable step was taken, malevolence would be
disarmed, and that Nell would never feel safe until she was his wife.
James Starr, Simon, and Madge, were all of the same opinion, and
everyone counted the intervening days, for everyone suffered from the
most uncomfortable forebodings.
It was perfectly evident that nothing relating to Nell was indifferent
to this hidden foe, whom it was impossible to meet or to avoid.
Therefore it seemed quite possible that the solemn act of her marriage
with Harry might be the occasion of some new and dreadful outbreak of
his hatred.
One morning, a week before the day appointed for the ceremony, Nell,
rising early, went out of the cottage before anyone else. No sooner had
she crossed the threshold than a cry of indescribable anguish escaped
her lips.
Her voice was heard throughout the dwelling; in a moment, Madge, Harry,
and Simon were at her side. Nell was pale as death, her countenance
agitated, her features expressing the utmost horror. Unable to speak,
her eyes were riveted on the door of the cottage, which she had just
opened.
With rigid fingers she pointed to the following words traced upon it
during the night: “Simon Ford, you have robbed me of the last vein in
our old pit. Harry, your son, has robbed me of Nell. Woe betide you! Woe
betide you all! Woe betide New Aberfoyle!--SILFAX.”
“Silfax!” exclaimed Simon and Madge together.
“Who is this man?” demanded Harry, looking alternately at his father and
at the maiden.
“Silfax!” repeated Nell in tones of despair, “Silfax!”--and, murmuring
this name, her whole frame shuddering with fear and agitation, she was
borne away to her chamber by old Madge.
James Starr, hastening to the spot, read the threatening sentences again
and again.
“The hand which traced these lines,” said he at length, “is the same
which wrote me the letter contradicting yours, Simon. The man calls
himself Silfax. I see by your troubled manner that you know him. Who is
this Silfax?”
CHAPTER XVII. THE “MONK”
THIS name revealed everything to the old overman. It was that of the
last “monk” of the Dochart pit.
In former days, before the invention of the safety-lamp, Simon had known
this fierce man, whose business it was to go daily, at the risk of his
life, to produce partial explosions of fire-damp in the passages. He
used to see this strange solitary being, prowling about the mine, always
accompanied by a monstrous owl, which he called Harfang, who assisted
him in his perilous occupation, by soaring with a lighted match to
places Silfax was unable to reach.
One day this old man disappeared, and at the same time also, a little
orphan girl born in the mine, who had no relation but himself, her
great-grandfather. It was perfectly evident now that this child was
Nell. During the fifteen years, up to the time when she was saved by
Harry, they must have lived in some secret abyss of the mine.
The old overman, full of mingled compassion and anger, made known to the
engineer and Harry all that the name of Silfax had revealed to him. It
explained the whole mystery. Silfax was the mysterious being so long
vainly sought for in the depths of New Aberfoyle.
“So you knew him, Simon?” demanded Mr. Starr.
“Yes, that I did,” replied the overman. “The Harfang man, we used to
call him. Why, he was old then! He must be fifteen or twenty years older
than I am. A wild, savage sort of fellow, who held aloof from everyone
and was known to fear nothing--neither fire nor water. It was his own
fancy to follow the trade of ‘monk,’ which few would have liked.
The constant danger of the business had unsettled his brain. He was
prodigiously strong, and he knew the mine as no one else--at any rate,
as well as I did. He lived on a small allowance. In faith, I believed
him dead years ago.”
“But,” resumed James Starr, “what does he mean by those words, ‘You have
robbed me of the last vein of our old mine’?”
“Ah! there it is,” replied Simon; “for a long time it had been a fancy
of his--I told you his mind was deranged--that he had a right to the
mine of Aberfoyle; so he became more and more savage in temper the
deeper the Dochart pit--his pit!--was worked out. It just seemed as if
it was his own body that suffered from every blow of the pickax. You
must remember that, Madge?”
“Ay, that I do, Simon,” replied she.
“I can recollect all this,” resumed Simon, “since I have seen the name
of Silfax on the door. But I tell you, I thought the man was dead, and
never imagined that the spiteful being we have so long sought for could
be the old fireman of the Dochart pit.”
“Well, now, then,” said Starr, “it is all quite plain. Chance made known
to Silfax the new vein of coal. With the egotism of madness, he believed
himself the owner of a treasure he must conceal and defend. Living in
the mine, and wandering about day and night, he perceived that you had
discovered the secret, and had written in all haste to beg me to come.
Hence the letter contradicting yours; hence, after my arrival, all the
accidents that occurred, such as the block of stone thrown at Harry, the
broken ladder at the Yarrow shaft, the obstruction of the openings into
the wall of the new cutting; hence, in short, our imprisonment, and then
our deliverance, brought about by the kind assistance of Nell, who acted
of course without the knowledge of this man Silfax, and contrary to his
intentions.”
“You describe everything exactly as it must have happened, Mr. Starr,”
returned old Simon. “The old ‘Monk’ is mad enough now, at any rate!”
“All the better,” quoth Madge.
“I don’t know that,” said Starr, shaking his head; “it is a terrible
sort of madness this.”
“Ah! now I understand that the very thought of him must have terrified
poor little Nell, and also I see that she could not bear to denounce her
grandfather. What a miserable time she must have had of it with the old
man!”
“Miserable with a vengeance,” replied Simon, “between that savage and
his owl, as savage as himself. Depend upon it, that bird isn’t dead.
That was what put our lamp out, and also so nearly cut the rope by which
Harry and Nell were suspended.”
“And then, you see,” said Madge, “this news of the marriage of our son
with his granddaughter added to his rancor and ill-will.”
“To be sure,” said Simon. “To think that his Nell should marry one of
the robbers of his own coal mine would just drive him wild altogether.”
“He will have to make up his mind to it, however,” cried Harry. “Mad as
he is, we shall manage to convince him that Nell is better off with us
here than ever she was in the caverns of the pit. I am sure, Mr. Starr,
if we could only catch him, we should be able to make him listen to
reason.”
“My poor Harry! there is no reasoning with a madman,” replied the
engineer. “Of course it is better to know your enemy than not; but you
must not fancy all is right because we have found out who he is. We must
be on our guard, my friends; and to begin with, Harry, you positively
must question Nell. She will perceive that her silence is no longer
reasonable. Even for her grandfather’s own interest, she ought to speak
now. For his own sake, as well as for ours, these insane plots must be
put a stop to.”
“I feel sure, Mr. Starr,” answered Harry, “that Nell will of herself
propose to tell you what she knows. You see it was from a sense of duty
that she has been silent hitherto. My mother was very right to take her
to her room just now. She much needed time to recover her spirits; but
now I will go for her.”
“You need not do so, Harry,” said the maiden in a clear and firm voice,
as she entered at that moment the room in which they were. Nell was very
pale; traces of tears were in her eyes; but her whole manner showed that
she had nerved herself to act as her loyal heart dictated as her duty.
“Nell!” cried Harry, springing towards her.
The girl arrested her lover by a gesture, and continued, “Your father
and mother, and you, Harry, must now know all. And you too, Mr. Starr,
must remain ignorant of nothing that concerns the child you have
received, and whom Harry--unfortunately for him, alas!--drew from the
abyss.”
“Oh, Nell! what are you saying?” cried Harry.
“Allow her to speak,” said James Starr in a decided tone.
“I am the granddaughter of old Silfax,” resumed Nell. “I never knew a
mother till the day I came here,” added she, looking at Madge.
“Blessed be that day, my daughter!” said the old woman.
“I knew no father till I saw Simon Ford,” continued Nell; “nor friend
till the day when Harry’s hand touched mine. Alone with my grandfather
I have lived during fifteen years in the remote and most solitary depths
of the mine. I say WITH my grandfather, but I can scarcely use
the expression, for I seldom saw him. When he disappeared from Old
Aberfoyle, he concealed himself in caverns known only to himself. In his
way he was kind to me, dreadful as he was; he fed me with whatever he
could procure from outside the mine; but I can dimly recollect that in
my earliest years I was the nursling of a goat, the death of which was
a bitter grief to me. My grandfather, seeing my distress, brought me
another animal--a dog he said it was. But, unluckily, this dog was
lively, and barked. Grandfather did not like anything cheerful. He had
a horror of noise, and had taught me to be silent; the dog he could
not teach to be quiet, so the poor animal very soon disappeared. My
grandfather’s companion was a ferocious bird, Harfang, of which, at
first, I had a perfect horror; but this creature, in spite of my dislike
to it, took such a strong affection for me, that I could not help
returning it. It even obeyed me better than its master, which used to
make me quite uneasy, for my grandfather was jealous. Harfang and I
did not dare to let him see us much together; we both knew it would be
dangerous. But I am talking too much about myself: the great thing is
about you.”
“No, my child,” said James Starr, “tell us everything that comes to your
mind.”
“My grandfather,” continued Nell, “always regarded your abode in the
mine with a very evil eye--not that there was any lack of space. His
chosen refuge was far--very far from you. But he could not bear to feel
that you were there. If I asked any questions about the people up above
us, his face grew dark, he gave no answer, and continued quite silent
for a long time afterwards. But when he perceived that, not content with
the old domain, you seemed to think of encroaching upon his, then indeed
his anger burst forth. He swore that, were you to succeed in reaching
the new mine, you should assuredly perish. Notwithstanding his great
age, his strength is astonishing, and his threats used to make me
tremble.”
“Go on, Nell, my child,” said Simon to the girl, who paused as though to
collect her thoughts.
“On the occasion of your first attempt,” resumed Nell, “as soon as my
grandfather saw that you were fairly inside the gallery leading to New
Aberfoyle, he stopped up the opening, and turned it into a prison for
you. I only knew you as shadows dimly seen in the gloom of the pit, but
I could not endure the idea that you would die of hunger in these horrid
places; and so, at the risk of being detected, I succeeded in obtaining
bread and water for you during some days. I should have liked to help
you to escape, but it was so difficult to avoid the vigilance of my
grandfather. You were about to die. Then arrived Jack Ryan and the
others. By the providence of God I met with them, and instantly guided
them to where you were. When my grandfather discovered what I had done,
his rage against me was terrible. I expected death at his hands. After
that my life became insupportable to me. My grandfather completely lost
his senses. He proclaimed himself King of Darkness and Flame; and when
he heard your tools at work on coal-beds which he considered entirely
his own, he became furious and beat me cruelly. I would have fled from
him, but it was impossible, so narrowly did he watch me. At last, in
a fit of ungovernable fury, he threw me down into the abyss where you
found me, and disappeared, vainly calling on Harfang, which faithfully
stayed by me, to follow him. I know not how long I remained there, but I
felt I was at the point of death when you, my Harry, came and saved me.
But now you all see that the grandchild of old Silfax can never be the
wife of Harry Ford, because it would be certain death to you all!”
“Nell!” cried Harry.
“No,” continued the maiden, “my resolution is taken. By one means only
can your ruin be averted; I must return to my grandfather. He threatens
to destroy the whole of New Aberfoyle. His is a soul incapable of mercy
or forgiveness, and no mortal can say to what horrid deed the spirit of
revenge will lead him. My duty is clear; I should be the most despicable
creature on earth did I hesitate to perform it. Farewell! I thank you
all heartily. You only have taught me what happiness is. Whatever may
befall, believe that my whole heart remains with you.”
At these words, Simon, Madge, and Harry started up in an agony of grief,
exclaiming in tones of despair, “What, Nell! is it possible you would
leave us?”
James Starr put them all aside with an air of authority, and, going
straight up to Nell, he took both her hands in his, saying quietly,
“Very right, my child; you have said exactly what you ought to say;
and now listen to what we have to say in reply. We shall not let you go
away; if necessary, we shall keep you by force. Do you think we could be
so base as to accept of your generous proposal? These threats of Silfax
are formidable--no doubt about it! But, after all, a man is but a man,
and we can take precautions. You will tell us, will you not, even for
his own sake, all you can about his habits and his lurking-places? All
we want to do is to put it out of his power to do harm, and perhaps
bring him to reason.”
“You want to do what is quite impossible,” said Nell. “My grandfather
is everywhere and nowhere. I have never seen his retreats. I have never
seen him sleep. If he meant to conceal himself, he used to leave me
alone, and vanish. When I took my resolution, Mr. Starr, I was aware of
everything you could say against it. Believe me, there is but one way to
render Silfax powerless, and that will be by my return to him. Invisible
himself, he sees everything that goes on. Just think whether it is
likely he could discover your very thoughts and intentions, from
that time when the letter was written to Mr. Starr, up to now that
my marriage with Harry has been arranged, if he did not possess the
extraordinary faculty of knowing everything. As far as I am able to
judge, my grandfather, in his very insanity, is a man of most powerful
mind. He formerly used to talk to me on very lofty subjects. He taught
me the existence of God, and never deceived me but on one point, which
was--that he made me believe that all men were base and perfidious,
because he wished to inspire me with his own hatred of all the human
race. When Harry brought me to the cottage, you thought I was simply
ignorant of mankind, but, far beyond that, I was in mortal fear of you
all. Ah, forgive me! I assure you, for many days I believed myself in
the power of wicked wretches, and I longed to escape. You, Madge, first
led me to perceive the truth, not by anything you said, but by the
sight of your daily life, for I saw that your husband and son loved and
respected you! Then all these good and happy workmen, who so revere and
trust Mr. Starr, I used to think they were slaves; and when, for the
first time, I saw the whole population of Aberfoyle come to church and
kneel down to pray to God, and praise Him for His infinite goodness, I
said to myself, ‘My grandfather has deceived me.’ But now, enlightened
by all you have taught me, I am inclined to think he himself is
deceived. I mean to return to the secret passages I formerly frequented
with him. He is certain to be on the watch. I will call to him; he will
hear me, and who knows but that, by returning to him, I may be able to
bring him to the knowledge of the truth?”
The maiden spoke without interruption, for all felt that it was good for
her to open her whole heart to her friends.
But when, exhausted by emotion, and with eyes full of tears, she ceased
speaking, Harry turned to old Madge and said, “Mother, what should you
think of the man who could forsake the noble girl whose words you have
been listening to?”
“I should think he was a base coward,” said Madge, “and, were he my son,
I should renounce and curse him.”
“Nell, do you hear what our mother says?” resumed Harry. “Wherever you
go I will follow you. If you persist in leaving us, we will go away
together.”
“Harry! Harry!” cried Nell.
Overcome by her feelings, the girl’s lips blanched, and she sank into
the arms of Madge, who begged she might be left alone with her.
CHAPTER XVIII. NELL’S WEDDING
IT was agreed that the inhabitants of the cottage must keep more on
their guard than ever. The threats of old Silfax were too serious to be
disregarded. It was only too possible that he possessed some terrible
means by which the whole of Aberfoyle might be annihilated.
Armed sentinels were posted at the various entrances to the mine, with
orders to keep strict watch day and night. Any stranger entering the
mine was brought before James Starr, that he might give an account of
himself. There being no fear of treason among the inhabitants of Coal
Town, the threatened danger to the subterranean colony was made known
to them. Nell was informed of all the precautions taken, and became
more tranquil, although she was not free from uneasiness. Harry’s
determination to follow her wherever she went compelled her to promise
not to escape from her friends.
During the week preceding the wedding, no accident whatever occurred
in Aberfoyle. The system of watching was carefully maintained, but the
miners began to recover from the panic, which had seriously interrupted
the work of excavation. James Starr continued to look out for Silfax.
The old man having vindictively declared that Nell should never marry
Simon’s son, it was natural to suppose that he would not hesitate to
commit any violent deed which would hinder their union.
The examination of the mine was carried on minutely. Every passage and
gallery was searched, up to those higher ranges which opened out among
the ruins of Dundonald Castle. It was rightly supposed that through
this old building Silfax passed out to obtain what was needful for the
support of his miserable existence (which he must have done, either by
purchasing or thieving).
As to the “fire-maidens,” James Starr began to think that appearance
must have been produced by some jet of fire-damp gas which, issuing from
that part of the pit, could be lighted by Silfax. He was not far wrong;
but all search for proof of this was fruitless, and the continued strain
of anxiety in this perpetual effort to detect a malignant and invisible
being rendered the engineer--outwardly calm--an unhappy man.
As the wedding-day approached, his dread of some catastrophe increased,
and he could not but speak of it to the old overman, whose uneasiness
soon more than equaled his own. At length the day came. Silfax had given
no token of existence.
By daybreak the entire population of Coal Town was astir. Work was
suspended; overseers and workmen alike desired to do honor to Simon Ford
and his son. They all felt they owed a large debt of gratitude to these
bold and persevering men, by whose means the mine had been restored to
its former prosperity. The ceremony was to take place at eleven o’clock,
in St. Giles’s chapel, which stood on the shores of Loch Malcolm.
At the appointed time, Harry left the cottage, supporting his mother
on his arm, while Simon led the bride. Following them came Starr, the
engineer, composed in manner, but in reality nerved to expect the worst,
and Jack Ryan, stepping superb in full Highland piper’s costume. Then
came the other mining engineers, the principal people of Coal Town,
the friends and comrades of the old overman--every member of this great
family of miners forming the population of New Aberfoyle.
In the outer world, the day was one of the hottest of the month of
August, peculiarly oppressive in northern countries. The sultry air
penetrated the depths of the coal mine, and elevated the temperature.
The air which entered through the ventilating shafts, and the great
tunnel of Loch Malcolm, was charged with electricity, and the barometer,
it was afterwards remarked, had fallen in a remarkable manner. There
was, indeed, every indication that a storm might burst forth beneath the
rocky vault which formed the roof of the enormous crypt of the very mine
itself.
But the inhabitants were not at that moment troubling themselves about
the chances of atmospheric disturbance above ground. Everybody, as a
matter of course, had put on his best clothes for the occasion. Madge
was dressed in the fashion of days gone by, wearing the “toy” and the
“rokelay,” or Tartan plaid, of matrons of the olden time, old Simon wore
a coat of which Bailie Nicol Jarvie himself would have approved.
Nell had resolved to show nothing of her mental agitation; she forbade
her heart to beat, or her inward terrors to betray themselves, and the
brave girl appeared before all with a calm and collected aspect. She had
declined every ornament of dress, and the very simplicity of her attire
added to the charming elegance of her appearance. Her hair was bound
with the “snood,” the usual head-dress of Scottish maidens.
All proceeded towards St. Giles’s chapel, which had been handsomely
decorated for the occasion.
The electric discs of light which illuminated Coal Town blazed like so
many suns. A luminous atmosphere pervaded New Aberfoyle. In the chapel,
electric lamps shed a glow over the stained-glass windows, which shone
like fiery kaleidoscopes. At the porch of the chapel the minister
awaited the arrival of the wedding party.
It approached, after having passed in stately procession along the shore
of Loch Malcolm. Then the tones of the organ were heard, and, preceded
by the minister, the group advanced into the chapel. The Divine blessing
was first invoked on all present. Then Harry and Nell remained alone
before the minister, who, holding the sacred book in his hand, proceeded
to say, “Harry, will you take Nell to be your wife, and will you promise
to love her always?”
“I promise,” answered the young man in a firm and steady voice.
“And you, Nell,” continued the minister, “will you take Harry to be your
husband, and--”
Before he could finish the sentence, a prodigious noise resounded from
without. One of the enormous rocks, on which was formed the terrace
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360
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362
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364
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.
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.
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«
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-
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.
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,
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.
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962
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.
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«
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.
968
969
;
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,
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971
.
972
,
973
.
974
«
,
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-
.
975
976
.
’
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977
.
978
979
980
.
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981
-
,
982
.
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.
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985
,
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.
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.
989
,
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,
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993
«
,
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.
994
995
«
,
,
»
,
«
996
,
-
-
»
997
998
,
999
.
,
1000