The Copper Princess: A Story of Lake Superior Mines

by Kirk Munroe

  CHAPTER XI

  NELLY TREFETHEN FINDS A LETTER

  Having donned his best suit for the interview with Major Arkell, andrealizing that his mine clothing would be more in keeping with the jobnow on hand, Peveril first hastened home to make the change. He foundonly Mrs. Trefethen in the house, and at sight of him she expressed aneager curiosity to learn the result of his recent interview.

  "It's all right," he laughed, as he bounded up the narrow stairwayleading to his room. "I'm to turn sailor, and be captain of a craftsomewhere up the coast."

  "Whativer can lad mean?" exclaimed the perplexed woman. "'Im a sailor!Did iver any one 'ear the like o' that? Oh, Maister Peril! be ivercoming back?"

  "Of course I am!" shouted Peveril from the little upper room, in whichhe was hastily changing his clothing. "I shall be back whenever myship comes in, which will probably be in a week, or it may take a fewdays longer. There's a wreck, you know, and I am going to save thepieces. But I'll be down directly."

  "A wrack!" gasped Mrs. Trefethen, "and 'im in hit! Save us! but 'twillbe worse than down shaft. Shaft be dry land, anyway, but they awfulsea that rageth like a lion seeking whom it may devour. Oh, MaisterPeril!"

  "Yes, coming!"

  The young man was just then making a hasty transfer of the contents ofhis pockets, besides cramming into those of his working-suit severalarticles that he imagined might prove useful. At that moment animpatient whistle from the timber train that would take him to thelanding warned him that he had no more time to spare, and, snatchinghis hat, he sprang down the stairway.

  "Good-bye, Mrs. Trefethen!" he cried. "Tell Miss Nelly she sha'n't beturned out of her own room any longer, and tell her--But never mind;only tell her that I will have something important to say to her whenI come back. Give her my love, and--" Here his words were cut short byanother shrill whistle from the waiting train; and Peveril ran fromthe house, shouting back "Good-bye!" as he went, and leaving the goodwoman gasping with the breathless flurry of his departure.

  When Nelly Trefethen reached home a half-hour later she received sucha confused account of what had just happened as caused her rosy cheeksto take on a deeper color and filled her with a strange agitation. Mr.Peril had gone to be a sailor, and would come back very shortly ascaptain of a ship. Perhaps it would be a splendid, great steamer, suchas she had seen lying at the Marquette ore docks. He had left hislove for her; he would have something of the greatest importance tosay the next time he saw her; and she was not to be turned out of herroom again. What could he mean by that, and what a very strange thingit was for a young man to say? Since he had said it to her mother,though, it must have meant--Oh dear! how she wished she had not goneout that morning, and what an endless time a whole week seemed!

  At length, anxious to escape from her mother's torrent of words, andto be alone with her own thoughts, the blushing girl fled up-stairs onthe pretence of putting Mr. Peril's room in order.

  The very first thing she spied on entering the room, about which hisbelongings were scattered in every direction, was a letter lying onthe floor, and almost hidden beneath the bed. Picking it up, she wassurprised to find it sealed, and still more so to note that it wasaddressed to Mr. Richard _Peveril_. How could that be? Was their guestliving among them under an assumed name? No, of course he wouldn't dosuch a thing; and this letter must have been handed to him by mistake.That was the reason why he had not opened it. The names were very muchalike in sound, though so differently spelled. Besides, this letterwas addressed in a lady's handwriting, and evidently came from someforeign country. She knew Mr. Peril was an American, because he hadsaid so. He had also told them that he was, so far as he knew, withouta relative in the world, so there were no sisters or young ladycousins to write to him.

  She did not think he could be engaged, because he had never mentionedthe fact, while all the other young men of her acquaintance were inthe habit of talking very freely about their "best girls," if theywere so fortunate as to have such. Besides, had not Mr. Peril justleft his love for _her_, and a message to the effect that he hadsomething very important to tell _her_? She would keep this hatefulletter, though, and confront him with it the moment she saw him again.Then his manner would convey the information she wanted. How she didlong to open it and just glance at its contents! The impulse to dothis was so strong that only by thrusting the letter into her pocketcould she resist it.

  Now the innocent cause of her perplexity seemed to burn like a coal offire until she again drew it forth. A dozen times that day did she dothis, with the temptation to set her doubts at rest by tearing openthe sealed envelope always assailing her with increased force.Finally, to her great relief, an honorable way of escaping thistemptation presented itself. She would return the horrid letter to thepost-office. From there, if it were indeed for Mr. Peril, he would indue course of time receive it, as he had before; while, if it wereintended for some one else, it would be delivered to its rightfulowner. This plan was no sooner conceived than executed; and, as thetroublesome missive disappeared through the narrow slit of thepost-office letter-box, the girl heaved a sigh of relief.

  When, the very next day, that identical letter was advertised on thepost-office bulletin, and Nelly Trefethen saw the notice, she wasassured that she had done the right thing. For ten days thatadvertisement stared her in the face whenever she visited the office,and then, to her great satisfaction, it disappeared. Rose Bonnifay'smessage from across the sea had gone to the place of "dead" letters,but Nelly believed that it had at last found its rightful owner.

  On the very evening of Peveril's departure Miss Nelly's oldsweetheart, Mike Connell, joined her for a walk, and, after muchpreliminary conversation, finally plucked up courage to ask if Mr.Peril had told her anything of importance before going away.

  "What should he have to tell me?" asked the girl, evasively.

  "He might have tould you that he liked you better than any other girlin the world," was the diplomatic answer.

  "You know he'd never say a thing like that, Mr. Connell," cried Nelly,blushing furiously.

  "Well, then, he might have said he was already bespoke."

  "I don't believe it."

  "It's true, all the same."

  "What right have you to say so?" asked Nelly, whose face was now quitepale.

  "The right of his own words, for he telled me so himself."

  "Who is she?"

  "He didn't say."

  "Where does she live, then?"

  "Divil a bit do I know."

  "I don't believe you know anything at all about it. You are justmaking up a story to tease me."

  "T'asing you is the last thing I'd be thinking of, Nelly darlin',except it was t'asing ye to marry me. No, alanna, it's the truth I'mtelling you, and if you can't believe me just ax him. At the sametime, I'm sore hurted that ye should be caring whether he's bespoke orno."

  "I will ask him," answered the girl, "and until I do I'll thank you,Mr. Connell, never to mention Mr. Peril's name again."

  "Not even to tell you what a brave, bowld lad he is, and howhandsome?"

  "You'd not be telling me anything I don't know."

  "But, darlin', when he tells you with his own mouth that he's alreadybespoke and not to be had at all, you'll not refuse a bit of hope toone who loves the very ground trod by your two little feet."

  "Good-night, Mr. Connell. Here's the door, and I'm going in."

  In the meantime Peveril, after bidding good-bye to Mrs. Trefethen, hadbeen whirled away by the little timber train to a landing on the lakeshore, where he found the tug _Broncho_ awaiting him. Towing behind itwas a light double-ended skiff, and on its narrow deck he saw threemen, dressed very much as he was himself, whom he knew must be thosechosen to assist him in his forthcoming labors. One of them was abright-looking French Canadian, while the others were evidentlyforeigners of the same class as the car-pushers in the mine. Thecaptain of the tug was a Yankee named Spillins.

  The latter glanced over the note from Major Arkell that the new-c
omerhanded him, and said, "All right, Mr. Peril; if you're ready for astart, I am."

  "Yes," replied Peveril, "I'm ready," and in another minute they wereoff. As they got under way the young leader of the expedition walkedaft to make the acquaintance of his men. He was annoyed to find that,while two of them were brawny fellows who looked well fit for work,they could not muster a dozen words of English between them. Notinghis efforts to converse with them, the third man, who introducedhimself as Joe Pintaud, came to his assistance.

  "No goot you talk to dem Dago feller, Mist Pearl," he said; "zey canspik ze Anglais no more as woodchuck. You tell 'em, 'dam lazyscoundrel,' zey onstan pret goot; but, by gar, you talk lak white manyou got kick it in hees head."

  Realizing the truth of Joe Pintaud's words, Peveril left the others toa stolid smoking of their long-stemmed pipes, and sought whateverinformation their more intelligent companion had to give concerningtheir present undertaking. He quickly discovered that, while Joe wasas ignorant as himself of that coast, he was an expert raftsman andlogger. He also found that the tug carried a good supply of rope,axes, pike-poles, and other things necessary for the work in hand.

  After having satisfied himself on these points, Peveril gazed for awhile at the bleak, rock-bound coast along which they were running,and then, suddenly bethinking himself of a pleasure that he hadreserved for a leisure moment, he entered the pilot-house, and,sitting down on a cushioned locker behind Captain Spillins, who stoodat the wheel, began to feel in his pockets.

  As he did this his movements grew more and more impatient, untilfinally, with a muttered exclamation, he turned the entire contents ofhis pockets out on the cushion.

  "Lost something?" asked the captain, looking around.

  "Yes."

  "Not your money, I hope."

  "No, but a letter that was worth more to me than all the money in theworld."

  "Whew!" whistled the captain. "Must have been important."