David's Little Lad

by L. T. Meade

the mornin', and he put on 'iscollier's dress, and we h'all got up--Nan and h'all; and mother she give'im 'is breakfast. Well, he was standin' by the fire, and mother's 'andon 'is shoulder, and 'er eyes on 'is face, when father, he came.

  "Father had h'always promised to go down the first time wid Stephie, andshow 'im the mine, and put 'im wid someone as 'nd learn 'im 'is work;but now he said, `Stephie, lad, I can't go down till night. I 'as 'ad asudden call elsewhere, so thee 'ad better wait, lad;' but Stephieanswered, `No, father; there's poor little James, Black William's son,and he's going down too, to-day; and he's rare and daunted, and I ain'ta bit; and Black William said as he might stay along wid me the firstday, so I must go, father, and Black William ull take care on us both;'then father, he said no more--on'y mother, she cried and begged Stephieto wait. And he looked at 'er amost scornful, for h'all he loved herso; and he said, `Does _thee_ tell me to forsake the little sickly lad?'Then he kissed mother, and he kissed little Nan, and waved his handback at 'em, and set off running to the bank, and I ran wid 'im, and hesaid to me, `Miles, lad, don't you h'ever be daunted when your turncomes to go down, for God takes care of h'everybody, in the earth and onthe earth--'tis all the same to God.' Then he stepped on to the cage,and gripped the hand of little James, who was shakin' fit to drop, andhe called h'out to me--`Tell mother as I'll be coming up wid the daycrew, and to 'ave supper ready, for I'll be very 'ungry,' and the othercolliers larfed to 'ear 'im so 'arty.

  "Well, Miss Morgan, that day mother war stronger nor ordinary, and shecleaned and scrubbed the floor, and when evening came, she got a rareand good bit of supper ready, and just wen we was looking h'out forStephie, and mother had put a rough towel, and water in the tub, readyfor him to wash hisself, who should come runnin' in but the wife ofBlack Bill, h'all crazy like, and 'ringin' 'er 'hands; and she saidthere had been a gas explosion, and h'every livin' soul in the mine wasdead."

  Here Miles paused; speaking again in a moment, more slowly.

  "_That_ wasn't true. A few did escape, and was brought up next day.But Black Bill was dead, and Stephie, and little James. Black Bill wasfound all burnt dreadful; but Stephie and little James--it was theafter-damp had done for them. They was found in one of the stalls;Stephie's arms round the little lad." Another long pause. "Mother, shenever held up her head--she died three months later, and now there'son'y Nan, and father, and me. Nan is such a careful little body, andkeeps the house so trim."

  "You are not afraid to go down into the mine?" I said.

  "Well, miss, it is a bit of a cross; partic'lar as it cuts up the little'un so; but, good gracious! it ain't nothin'; there ain't bin ah'accident for h'ages--and _I_ ain't daunted."

  "When are you going down?"

  "On Monday, Miss Morgan."

  "Little Nan," I said, turning to the child, "I mean to come to see youat your own house on Monday. You may expect me, for I shall be sure tocome; and I'll bring you pictures--lots; and if you like, I can show youhow to colour them."

  I thought this offer must charm Nan, and make her forget the terrors ofthe mine; but it did not. She looked gravely, almost fretfully at me,and it was Miles who said, "Thank you."

  "I must go now," I said, jumping to my feet. "I have stayed too longalready; but I'm very glad I have met you, Miles, and Nan. I think yourStephie a real, real hero; and, Miles, I _love_ you for being so brave,and I should like, beyond anything, to shake hands with you, and to kisslittle Nan."

  After clasping a small brown hand, and pressing a warm salute on twotrembling lips, I started home. The children's story had excited me,and warmed my heart. For the present it absorbed my thoughts, even tothe exclusion of Owen. I said I would do much for these two. This boyand girl, so lonely, so interesting, with their tragic story and tragiclife, should find in me a benefactor and friend. The thought wasdelicious and exhilarating. David, through my intervention, shouldrescue Miles from the miner's life, and relieve the timid little sisterfrom her worst fears. My spirits rose high as I contemplated thisevent, which a word from my lips could bring about. I entered the househumming the wild sweet air which the children had set to their Methodisthymn. The music of my voice was greeted by the richer music of gay andhappy laughter. I stood motionless in the hall. My heart almost ceasedto beat, then bounded on wildly. The colour fled from my cheeks andlips, returning in a moment in a full tide of richest crimson. I couldhave given way then. I could have rushed to Owen's side, thrown my armsround his neck, and wept out on his breast, a whole flood of healing andforgiving tears. Had I done so, my soul would have been knit to hiswith a love strong as the old love was weak--noble as the old passionateaffection was erring and idolatrous; but I did not. I conquered theemotion, which the sound of his voice, and his laughter, had stirredwithin me. I told myself that _that_ was not my Owen--mine, my hero wasdead. Untidy, pale, agitated, but unforgiving, I opened thedrawing-room door and went in. David, mother, and Owen, were standingin a loving, happy group. I went up to the group--they had not heard mecome in--and touched Owen on the sleeve, and said, in a quiet voice,"Welcome home, brother."

  For an instant two bright, dark eyes looked expectantly into mine--oneinstant the brilliant eyes wore that look--one instant after, they wereblank with disappointment. Then all was commonplace--a commonplace, butaffectionate brother's kiss was on my cheek, and a gay voice said,laughingly--

  "Why, Gwladys, you're as wild and disreputable-looking a little romp asever."

  CHAPTER NINE.

  EARTH--AIR--FIRE--WATER.

  Whether Owen had come back, in my opinion, a hero, or an unpardoned anddisgraced man, appeared after his first swift glance into my face toaffect him very little, if at all; and I had to admit to myself thatwhatever else he may have failed in, he had arrived at Ffynon with afull knowledge of the duty which he had undertaken.

  As a boy, he had always loved engineering, and when in those bright andhappy days he and I had discussed his golden future, the _pros_ hadgenerally ended in favour of his becoming an engineer.

  "All things considered, I should like this best, Gwladys," he would say.And though in these very youthful days he appeared to care more forpoetry and the finest of the fine arts, yet it was here, I believe, thathis true talent lay. Owen had not been idle during the four years ofhis exile, he had studied engineering as a profession when he was atOxford, and during these years he had gone through a course of practicaltraining with regard to the duties of a mining engineer, not only in theGerman mines, but in the North of England. He now brought thisknowledge to bear on the rather slow working and unprofitable mine atFfynon. This mine, which belonged to our mother, had at one timeyielded a great deal of coal and was a source of much wealth, but oflate, year by year, the mine yielded less, and its expenses becamegreater. It was worked on an old-fashioned system; it had not therecent improvements with regard to ventilation; and many seriousaccidents had taken place in consequence. Neither was the managerpopular, he worked the mine recklessly, and many accidents of the mostfatal character were constantly taking place from the falls of roofs,this expression meaning the giving way of great portions of the coal forwant of proper supports being put under it. A short time before Owen'sreturn, the manager of the mine for some more flagrant act ofcarelessness than usual, had been dismissed, and it was on hearing this,that Owen had written to David, telling him of his studies and hisprofession, reminding him also that when a boy he had more than oncegone down into the old mine at Ffynon, that with his present knowledgehe believed the mine to be still rich in coal, and that it only neededto be properly worked to yield a fine return. He spoke strongly againstthe unprofitable and expensive system which had hitherto been adopted;and finally he begged of David to give him permission to step into themanager's shoes, and for at least a year to have absolute control of themine: promising at the end of that time to reduce order out of chaos, tolessen current expenses, and to bring in the first instalments of whatshould be large profits.

  He had frankly told David his reason fo
r this: he had a debt to pay, adebt of love and gratitude it was true, but still a debt that frettedhis proud spirit, a debt that must be paid before he could knowhappiness again. But it was just on account of this reason that Davidhesitated to accept the services of one whose knowledge of the work hemeant to undertake, was certainly great. The primary motive in Owen'sheart, seemed to David, in the present state of Ffynon mine, hardly aworthy one. Coal was valuable, gold scarce, but lives were precious; itseemed to David that until all was done