Chapter XXXV. The Escape.

Otago Witness, Issue 2202, 14 May 1896, Page 41

Chapter XXXV. The Escape.

" Oonrad, are you there ? " At first he could not believe his ears. The low, sweet, thrilling tones seemed to come from the air around him or from his own heart, he knew not which — anywhere rather than from the lips of a living woman, and one whom he bad so deeply wronged. 1 He did not answer ; he listened intently. Again it came. " Oonrad, are you there T " The miners had gagged him and harried him away from the camp, promising to him and themselves a speedy and ample vengeance. They had taken him to the humpy of rudd unplaced slabs whioh had once been the home of the Yankee, and which, long «go abandoned, was 'now nearly overgrown with weeds and wild grasses. Here they bad removed the gag, and after securely tying the prisoner had left him with one of their number on guard outside the prison. Hera he hftd been alone in the darkness for what, seemed to him hourn, bat what was not in reality much more than one, 11 Oonrad, are you there ? " " Yes, indeed ; not ranch chance o( being anywhere else. Who are you ? Not EnlaHa J * Yes, lam EulaUV , He heard the scraping of a ra&toh, and then the thin flame of a candle sprang np before his eyes, and the slender figure of his wife waa clearly visible. " How did yoa get hera ? " he asked in astoni«htnent. " Never mind ; I have come to save you if you will let me." "I don't see how it's to be done," he answered gloomily. "Those beasts have determined to take my life, and I don't see a chance of escaping, from them." " There's one way, or at least I think so. The walls of this old hat are not very strong. I shall untie your hands, and yoa oan then remove one of the planks and slip ouc through tho aperture. Make your way into the scrub, and hide there for a time nntil th* hue and cry is over." " And you will come with me ? '* " No, I mast remain here." "Wby?" " For ona thing, if we both go, the sentry who let me in will get into trouble ; if I remain in your pUce they will know that he ■ is not to blame." "What rot. If I gat off you mast- come too; it's not likely I'm going to leave you here among these men." ' " I'm not afraid of the men— they will not hurt me." "Perhaps yoa are a favourite among them." Her eyes flashed Ia the semi- darkness, but her fingers were busily employed in loosening the cords which bound him. When his hands were free be stretched them, oat With a keen sense of relief, and his spirits rose. "How did you get here; toll m« that?" be demanded, " I oalled at your hotel on the day after ; your fete, and found that you had gone into " the country. I followed you from place to place. I have been here some time." " Why did you- come ? " She hesitated, and he repeated the question. V I knew that yoa were ia danger, and I wished to save you." "Is that thetrath?" "I never tell lies," she answered indignantly. He laughed sarcastically. " Oh, you are very virtuous, no donbt. I wonder why you oamo out to Australia at all { you would have been very much better al home." " Perhaps so, batvl wanted to find you ana warn you against " " Whom ? " •• Grimahaw." >_ " Why did yoa not speak before ? " " How could I when you denied that you knew me?" " Oh, that was all nonsense. Just a joke, you know. I wanted to see how you would take it. I came up here to get some money at a place I know of, then I meant to look you ap and go back to the old country together." Her haart gave a great bound. Was it, could it be true ? She left off untying tlu knots, and taking up the wretcbed candle, flashed the light into his mooking faca. She' knßw then beyond the possibility "of doubt' that he had meant to make good his own escape from the country, and leave her and' his child to starve, or earn a living as besV she coald. She put down the light and,, stooping, began to fu.mblß with the corda round his legs. " How slow you are," he ejaculated, trying to help her. Their hands met. Bulalie drew back. iv— • "What?" hs said fiaooringly, "yoa feSSI

''come to save me, and yet you won't touoh > me. That sounds a little contradictory." • 11 "Oh, don't waate time in talking," she cried passionately. "Find a loose plank, '".there at the back, and escape while there is yet time." ' " Not without you." " Then you must remain here, for I shall jf«Ot <?O.'-' 11 1 cannot leave you here." w Why not 7 lamin no danger. There Li not one of those men oat there bat would [protect me, if need were." "So yoa have known how to fascinate jfnetn, it ssems. I tell you what you should |10. Appeal to the warden — he would protect : us both." " I thought of that, but I was watched and ipould not get near him, He left the camp Mialf an hour g go." " Then they will be here soon." "I fear so. You bad better escape now »jr hile you can. There, that's the last." The. knots were now all unfastened, and 33ardcaBtle was free. He stood up and shook himself like a dog when it oomes out of the water, and then he went straight to the j^ar of the humpy and tried the slabs one by 'one. It was not long before he found one •which, rotten from age or moisture, gave way . under his hand; he wrenched it out. He turned back for a moment. \ " You refuse to come with me 2 " ("I do." • " Wby have you done .this ? " "Why ? Am I not your wife 1 " "But you no longer love me." She shivered. It was true. She knew in tier bearfc of hearts that she despised and loathed him to tbe uttermost, and that it would be far easier to die for him than to live tilth him. " Go ! go I " she cried ; " I think I hear them coming." ' Bn't it was only tbe wind rattling the old roof, and playing mad pranks among the loose Bbingles. Still he hesitated. " I have been a scoundrel to you. Say you forgive me." .fi_r» — " Say y° a forgive me." " I forgive you, Conrad, and I pray that Ood will forgive you as I do." She bent her head upon her hands. When the looked np he was gone. She went to the place where the slab bad been torn out, and listened. She neither saw nor beard anything. The faint smell of tobacco entering through tbe cracks on the other side showed tbat the sentinel was peacefully emoting. She took np the slab md replaced it carefully, closing the aperture in such a manner that only a keen scrutiny could reveal what had happened, Then she looked round the but, and saw in one corner a heap of men's clothes. They, were dirty, shabby, and much worn, and she. touched them with a kind of loathing. Still she did not hesitate, but hastily removing, her own outer gatments put on somo oft beta,' and having hid her own dress under « .mnk, she blew out the candle, and sat down to trait. It was her, deliberate intention to give her life for Oenrad's. She knew well that if the men came and found him miesing there would be an immediate hue and cry from whiob be could not possibly escape, whereas, If she oould divert their attention for a time t or even altogether, he might do so. She had fio fear. A high and splendid courage ani-mateo-ber sou). It mattered not to her that the life for which she was willing to pay so great a price was not worthy. She did not love him. She had never loved him ; for the man whom she had loved was an ideal being, not iia the least like Conrad. Yet she was williHg to lay down her life for his ia simple Christ-like devotion, in tbe hope that the vicarious offering would not be refused. '• Bhe thought of Rita, and her heart gave a great bound. She thought of Robert, and bit her lips. It was hard to leave them, but ■he knew that he would care for the ohild, ftnd perhaps it would be bettor so. She heard a sound in the distance, more lol&mn and steady than the wind — the lound of many feet Marching ia silence. „ She bent her bead, and pray«d silently : n Forgive them, for they know not what they do," and then she folded her hands and waited. (To le oonoludect.')