The Marriage of Marcia.

Southern Cross, Volume 13, Issue 45, 3 February 1906, Page 13

The Marriage of Marcia.

By E. EYERETT-GREEN, Author of “Dare Lorimer’s Heritage,” “ Golden Gwendolyn,” “ Monica,” etc., etc.

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CHAPTER XXI. THE MUTTERING S OF THE STORM. The two men stood facing each other in the grim pane,led room at other in the grim panelled room at prised the master of the house on his return thither at dusk. That half an hour ago, and the gloom was increasing each moment, though in the red glow of the fire this _v as scarcely noted. Ennisvale’s face was flushed and angry. That of Marcus was as quiet and inscrutable as ever. He had not given his adversary one single point. 'Not a word — not a look had escaped him to betray him in a single respect. Ennisvale felt as he had once done when fencing in a Paris fencing hall with a master of the art. His weapon seemed to be a child’s toy ; that of his adversary like a wall of solid rock. It had been rather a curious sensation then to one who had prided himself on his sword play. He felt the same baffled sensation now —he whose* amiability, graciousness, and charm of manner had generally won him confidence and success both amongst men and women. •T am sorry you take it like that.” spoke Marcus, quietly, the inflexible note in his voice making itself distinctly heai'd above the restrained and courteous regret. "T have not denied that there are other matteis in the past which I also regret. But I have no explanation to offer —to you. That page of history is closed. There is only one person who has any right to" read it now. That person is my wife. Have you come v ilh any authority from her?” This question leaped suddenly forth —red hot—from the of the former words. Ennisvale iclt the change. But ho would not stoop to subterfuge, even though he might thus score a point.-, “I do not come from her. She has refused to ask the question lor herself, which I, as her brother, demand answered. lam her lawful and rightful protector ” "Pardon me,” answered Marcus, drawing himself up to his full height, “I am her lawful and rightful protector.” ‘•'And you deceive her —and deny her due!” • , , T - n “I do not deceive her —and I viU give to her whatever she asks of me. If she be wise enough to refrain from asking certain things. 1 shall abide bv that wisdom —and hold m,y peace, ""And live with a shadow between TO u! —and ruin your happiness! panted Ennisvale, Hying to ker T calm, but conscious or a great and

rising - anger. ' , The face before him betrayca nouiinw Marcus had his back to the 'fire : the light played strong upon Ennis vale’s face which was flushed with irritation and passion. Perha.ps he was the only member of his family who had not fully understood that which Marcia had done in marrying this man, nor what his part in the compact had beer*. Marcia had insisted on'Silence where her brother was concerned.. She did not wish

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him to know how’ much his future would be changed by that transfer of mortgage bonds into her hands. He knew that worldly prosperity had followed this marriage of his l sister to Marcus Drummond ; but Ennisvale was at heart a born aristocrat, and his private opinion was that it was Marcus who had chiefly profited by the alliance. He had a wife with some of the oldest and best blood of the realm running in her veins. His family would be ennobled by this, and his money never would ennoble it. - Marcus Drummond failed to understand because his descent was plebeian. Was he also, in spite of his iron will and inflexibility of demeanour, something of a coward at heart? Was he afraid of exposure? Ennisvale rapidly reviewed the situation, drawing his breath rather hard. His mind worked with lightning quickness. There was only a very short pause before he spoke again. But in that time his tone had changed. From impulsive heat it had assumed, an icy coldness, and there was a suspicion of a sneer in his voice. ‘T begin to understand,”- he said, slowly. Again Marcus made no reply. Pie had no wish to quarrel with Marcia’s brother. He liked Ennisvale. There was something frank and boyish about him which attracted the elder man. He looked boyish enough this evening, despite his anger and his assumed judicial bearing. There was just enough likeness to Marcia in this aspect to touch and hold the heart of the husband, and restrain him from the curt, sharp dismissal which he would have given to any other man who had come to him upon such an errand. ‘■'Marcia—my sister —is the only person to whom you will confide your guilty secret ; but you do not wish to burden, her with it. 'Am I right so far?” •■'lf the secret be a guilty one a point I should be willing to leave to my wife’s judgement—you arc right so far.”

“A secret involving a murder is generally held to involve the elements of guilt,” spoke Ennisvale, still striving after calmness of manner. And a man is very safe in taking his wife into his confidence, seeing that she is the one person in the world who may not bear witness against him. I congratulate 3 r ok upon your sagacity!" There was a dead silence in the room for about, the space of a minute. broken only by the deep breathing of the two men. Then Marcus spoke : ‘•'Have you any!king else to say?” "No."

'•‘Then as the light is fast waning, I will not detain you longer ; unless you will do me the honour to accept the hospitality of Wold Hall for the night.” ‘T thank you, hut I will go. You will not find mo at Falconer’s Hall either on your return. So I will take the opportunity of thanking you for the hospitality I have received there already!” "Falconer's Hall is Marcia’s house.

Your thanks are owed not to me—but to her. You can remember that in the furure, if you choose. This house is mine. The other is hers.”

A number of hot, stinging retorts sprang to Ennisvale’s lips ; but no words passed them. So for an appreciable time the pair stood facing one another, and then Ennisvale turned and quitted the room without any formula of farewell, leaving Marcus standing as befox*e, his towering black figure before the fire throwing a gigantic shadow across the ceiling and wall opposite, his firm square face set like that of some statue of bronze. ********* Percival Eastlake sat solitary beside the fire, the wild Octobei’ gales shrilling and raving across the lake and through the trees on the heights above, and wailing from time to time round the angles of that sheltered house, with a cx-y like some lost child weeping its heart out in the darkness. Sweetheart was in bed asleep. Percival had stolen more than once to look at her, and make sure that, the storm was not distux-bing her childish slumbers. 2sTow r he sat dreaming over his fire alone, and before hixn, upon the mantel-shelf, stood a photograph—a long "promenade” porti'ait. a beautiful young- girl in full court 1 dx*ess, with white plumes axxd graceful train, the soft, faix'ylike elegance of billowy lace, gauzy chiffon, and long sprays of flowers disposed with artistic grace. This photograph was the property of Sweetheart, who had begged it from the original ; but it had been set up in such a position that Percival's eyes x'ested naturally upon it as he lay back in his easy-chair. The bright sweet eyes seexned to be looking full into his ; the lips seemed just parted for some gay badinage— It was hard not to think they sxxxiled as oxxe watched. At the foot of the portrait were traced in fine characteristic penmanship the words, ‘Leslie MoncricflV

He had seen her many times of late. For the child's sake he had taken her more than once to Falconer's Hall. Once, on the little one's birthday, one glowing September day, before the sudden change from summer to autumn, Marcia and Leslie had spent a long- day at the Den. rowing on the lake, visiting all the garden haunts, making a golden day for the happy child. And ever since the place seemed to Percival to hold the echoes of her .sweet voice. That she was not for him he had realised ever since Ennisvale’s arrival. It tvas whispered all through the neighbourhood that the pair were affianced.

Suddenly his meditations were interrupted by the opening of the door. He had heard no sound of arrival, and sprang up to find himself confronted by Ennisvale, who presented the ruffled and tumbled aspect of a man who had been .fighting with, the storm,, though he had left his dripping overcoat in the hall oiitside. Porcival’s eyes lighted with pleasure. His hand was outstretched in welcome. "I lost myself in the fells in the storm. I was making for Dale Farm but it is dark as pitch and I must have missed the road. I saw lights, and found myself here.” "Where you will assuredly remain till morning, - ’ interposed Percival. his hand on the bell. "You must have something hot to take, and slippers to replace those wet boots. I am very glad to see you. These stormy nights arc eerie things. One prefers the sound of a human voice to all that wild wailing of the wind outside.” Matters were soon settled between

the men, Ennisvale was pretty well worn out by his long tramp. Hia face .was unwontedly grave and pale, and as he sipped his steaming glass and looked across at his host he as-* ked gravely : “Have you heard any news?" soners this last little spell. Is any--thing afoot?" “I am afraid so. I don't a,together like what I hear and see.; Did you know that I had left Falconer’s Hall ? I have had a difference with its owner. I have taken Marcus Drummond to task—with what result you who know him may be able to guess." » “Percival’s face slightly changed. “You have quarrelled with fairn.',. you mcan?’i “Not. actually ; but I spoke my mind to him. I told him there had been mystery and concealment enough and that the time had come when, for Marcia’s sake, he ought to explain the whole matter. It is monstrous that he should permit his name to be whispered abroad as connected with a brutal crime—unless, indeed, he is the perpetrator of it ; and, if so, he did a hideous wrong in marrying- my sister!" “No, no!” cried Percival, quickly, “do not say that!" Ennisvale looked at him quickly and shrewdly, “You are his friend—l- wonder how much you know." “I know enough to exonerate Marcus from every imputation save perhaps that of a mistaken sense of honour. I myself think that the time to speak has now come. But it will be a difficult matter to persuade him of it."

,: Do you know also that the wild old man Ebenezer Raleigh, who hasbeen biding his time with a relentless pertinacity like that of a sleuth hound, has now worked up something like a conspiracy against Marcus Drummond amongst the pit hands ? I do not know the ins and. outs of ”■ ■'■'That has been his game for this long while,” spoke Percivai. "Marcus is well aware of it. lie has been doing mischief silently for a long time. He is taking advantage now of a sudden wave of discontent—the result of trade complications which affect the price and output of coal in these parts. But I do not think it will find Marcus unprepared.” "And is my sister to suffer anxiety and perhaps personal terror, to ha perhaps widowed before she has been a year a wife, for who knows when trouble begins how it will end? It 1 comes to this, Eastlake—either Marcus is guilty, and prefers to defy the world and take any other risk rather than declare himself—in which he may bo right fi’om his own point of view; or he is not guilty, in which case he is acting like amadman ; and for the sake of his wife, if for no other reason, he should be made to speak out at whatever cost to his own pride or obstinacy,” Percivai was exceedingly grave and thoughtful. It was long - before bespoke, and then he said slowly : I. have been thinking - something" of this myself, of late. I think things are being carried to far now. I shall speak to Marcus myself before long - . TV bother or not I shall be able to move him is another matter.” "He must be moved,” spoke E2l- - almost fiercely. “Or you must speak youi’self, Eastlake. Perhaps that would bo the best,” But Percivai made no sign. His?, face for the moment was as inscrutable as that of Marcus, And again Ennis vale felt curiously baffled and non-plussed.

Next morning at breakfast time Sweetheart looked suddenly up and asked :•

“Best Beloved, what is a 'splo- " “Why do you ask. Sweetheart ? JV'hat do you know about such big things as that ?’ i “It was Mark told me. He came down yesterday before it was dark. •He said that old Ebenezer was going to make a 'splosion in Big Marcus’s mine. He didn’t know when , but he thought it would be soon. He said there would be a big banging noise, and p’raps the pit would be spoilt afterwards. Isn’t it rather naughty of him ? I asked Mark, but he wouldn’t answer. I wonder if it will be to-day, and if Big Marcus Will mind much.” The two men looked across the table at each other, and Ennisvale uttered a subdued exclamation, and rose quickly to his feetf CHAPTER XXII. AX ACT OF VENGEANCE. A long, low, distant rumbling made itself heard, and the foundations of the house seemed to shake and quiver. Marcia looked up from her writing table, and Eeslie rose to her'feet and ran to the ■window. But nothing was to be seen from there, and now all was silence, and the faint vibration had ceased.

“What was it?" spoke Marcia. “It felt like a little baby earthquake. One does hear of them fi om time to time. If there had .been any gas works near one might ha\ e thought 'it an explosion, but- “ “The colliery!’-' spoke Marcia quickly, and her face grew perceptibly paler. “It is air explosion at the pits —Marcus's pits." “But my dear Marcia, they are so far away. Should we have felt it? “Yes/far away by road, but as the crow flies across tlife fell not so very far. Leslie, lam certain of it, something has happened at the pits. I am going at once to see, to be of use if I can. Help may bo wanted. Her hand was on the bell. The next minute the butler was in their presence. “What was that noise, Block. Did you heai - it?” “Yes, my lady. It felt like a bit of an explosion. I thought. Only there are no works hereabouts '' “There are the pits. There has been an explosion there. I am convinced of it. I want the light carriage g - ot ready instantly, and the dog-cart also. You had bettor come with me. Block. And send Mrs Henderson also at once. If there has been an accident we shall want to take with us the things likely to be most urgently wanted. Make haste, I wish to start as soon as possible.” And as the servant was hurrying awav she added :

•■'l shall not be back to-nig'ht, in all probability. I shall remain at iNVold Hall.” The man. disappeared, and Leslie exclaimed : “But Marcia, what will Marcus say ?” My place is with my husband in anv time of danger,” answered Marcia quietly. You will excuse my running away from you, Leslie dear ; you see, I treat you as a sister.” “You will not run away—for I will go with you!” Marcia gave her a quick keen look. “But dearest, there may bo sad and painful sights to sec, and Wold Hall is not like Falconer’s Hall. The accommodation is very rough not what you are accustomed to.” “You are going yourself.” “I am going to my husband.” “And I am going with you. Lo, Marcia, don’t try to stop me. Its n.o manner of use. I feel stifled sometimes with all this luxury, this plethora. of service, this soft life with all its pleasant artificial conditions. I want to get away. I want to get nearer the heart of thing’s. I want to feel the elemental passions at work beneath the surface. Do you know what I mean ? If there be the need for help let me help too. If there be a tragedy at our doors, let me be there to give what aid I can. If there be weeping women to comfort, terrified children to calm, let me do what I can for them. If there be savage passions in the hearts of tierce men, even then let mo be there to watch. Lot me live a real life for once—let me see what life is like .without all these trappings which disguise it!” Marcia argued no more. Glad was she of Leslie's company, for she knew not what lay before her. Twice had she visited the pit village, and each time had she come away with a gnawing fear at her heart —fear not for herself, but for her husband. 'All the while that the carriage was 'driving them onwards, as rapidly as the state of the roads would permit, Marcia sat with clasped hands and unseeing eyes, her thoughts always

centred about one idea. What had happened. And where was Marcus when it happened? As they passed the telegraph office she stopped the carriage to ask if any message had come through to her. The answer was in the negative. A wire had come from the pits to the effect that an explosion had taken place there ; but of its nature or scope they had received no intimation whatever. “It may be quite a small affair, Marcia,” said Leslie, as they drove off again. “Do not look like that.” For there was a gathering horror in Marcia’s eyes which she could not hide from Leslie. She wrung her hands together as she cried : “It will be Marcus who is the victim—l feel it ! I seem to know it ! I shall lose him—and he shall never know ”• She stopped short. Leslie was too wise to ask any question, but in her heart she knew what she would have said. She had grown little by little to love her husband. The veil was about to be torn from her eyes, if indeed it still obscured her vision. She loved her husband—and she knew it. But would he ever know how it was with her ?, The doubt was anguish to Leslie, yet her -hopeful nature would not forecast evil. Putting her hands upon Marcia she said :

“It will all come right, dear —you will see. You have been so loyal to him all through. You have trusted him in the teeth of opposition and those hundred thousand little things which would have set another woman doubting and suspecting. You are worthy of him, and he of you. It will' all come right—it will all come right! iYou are going to him now—in the moment of peril. You will see that all will be right now.” The storm of the previous night had torn up the road as they neared the pits, and the water came rushing down, frightening the horses, who had to be encouraged to face it. They noted that as. they passed the first rows of houses, not a sign of life was to be observed, save a few very young children, watching over some babies, who hail apparently been collected in one dry outhouse, and left to the charge of the tiny toddler playing in the dust beside them. Not a woman, or girl, or boy was to be seen. “They are all gone to the pits—to get news!” spoke Marcia to herself, her lips being too dry to enunciate the words aloud. The horse dashed forward now without check. Soon the outskirts of the place were reached. Suddenly the heavy silence was broken by the commencement of a throbbing rythmical sound and in a moment a wild, hoarse cheer went up, emphasised by a deep and quivering sob, and some articulate words shouted by a group on the outskirts of the crowd penetrated the senses of the party in the carriage. “The engine's started —the engine's at work—thank God for that!” The coachman turned round and Block was at the carriage door. “The horses can't go any further, ■my lade-, for the crowd ; and they are getting a bit restive with all the noise and shouting too.” “I will get out,” spoke Marcia, very quietly. Take the horses out of the crowd, and wait till I send you word what to do. Block will stay with me.”

Leslie sprang out after Marcia. It was a strange scene upon which their eyes fell. All around them la$ r the great heaps of refuse from the pits—whilst stacks of coal loomed up in gigantic walls, grim against the stormy brightness of the sky. The air seemed charged with a palpitating excitement, voiced, as it were, by the regular vibrating throb of the mighty engine. It was no wonder that the starting once more of the engine, .which for two long hours had been mute and motionless, raised a cheer and a shout, and drew sobs ! and tears from the women. That palefaced, smutty crowd around the engine house and central shaft spoke eloquently of the fear of tragedy which dominated all hearts. Even the arrival of Marcus’s carriage had scarcely caused one head to turn in her direction. As she now approached a knot of women who were standing on the outskirts of the crowd, with some frightened children clinging to their skirts, she had to put the question twice before she received any answer. Then wild haggard laces were turned towards her, and she found that though these women were utter strangers to her, yet that her personality was known to them. ■“Oh. my lady, we don’t know as yet. There were two hundred men down when the explosion came. They say most of them have got up safe, but there's some down still. Whether alive or dead none can say yet. They may be buried alive, or they may be

safe somewhere in the pits or galleries, if the choke damp hasn’t took them off. There was no going down to see tiH the engine started ; and some said it was damaged past working. But the master, he’s been with the engineer all the time, and if any can start it we knew he would. God 1 be thanked ’tis going again now, and the rescue party will be going down soon.” The woman spoke in the rough northern dialect which was only beginning to be intelligible to Marcia, but her anxiety quickened her powers of apprehension, and she grasped the meaning of every word to-day. “Is there danger to those who go •down?” she asked. • 'Danger!—’tis the dangerest task as they can set themselves to. You never know what you’re going into down the shaft—fire or water—or the choke damp. Or may be some fresh explosion. Once the mischief starts, you never know when the end will be. God be with the lads as go down the shaft with the master!” Marcia suddenly caught her breath. “With the master?” The woman regarded her with curious eyes, as though doubtful what to answer. But the imperious insistence of Marcia’s gaze seemed to draw the words from her whether she would or no. “Why, yes, my lady,” she said, speaking slowly, “there’s never been a rescue party in these pits ever since the master was a lad, but he’s been the one to lead it. The boys may grumble as they like about him, and call him all the names-they can put their tongues to ; but there isn’t one that doesn’t know as the master stands shoulder to shoulder with them whenever there’s danger to be faced. Nay, more—he leads them, and takes the post of greatest peril himself, as jyou’ll see in a minute if you wait. I do say as men who talk agin the master don’t know when they’re well ■off !’?■ At that moment, as though in corroboration ol the woman’s words a clear resonant voice rang out from the heart of the crowd, dominating the thick excited hum of human voices, and the throb of the pulsating engine. “Who goes with me?” cried Marcus. • J 'Nine in the cage with me, and ten to follow. We will send up for more help if wanted. There are thirty men not yet come up. Who volunteers for the rescue?”

The crowd seemed to surge and heave like a living thing. _ Leslie kept close beside Marcia, feeling as one in a dream, and the crowd opening before them, seemed to close up behind and drive them into the very centre as by an impulse of a common understanding. Suddenly the pressure seemed to give way. Marcia found herself standing on the outer margin of an open space. Within that space hard-fisted, smokegrimed sons of toil with lanterns and spades and picks were moving rapidly to and fro like figures in a dream, hailing each other in rough accents, and bawling out uncouth salutations or farewells to their comrades pressing round. The centre of this open space was the cage at. the mouth of the shall, beside which stood a figure of imposing height and build, even among these robust specimens of North Country manhood. A faint, sulphurous cloud ascended from the shaft, and a young man with eager eyes and alert manner seemed to be making certain tests and calculations as he leaned over inhaling it. At that moment the eyes of husband and wife met, and with an inarticulate exclamation Marcus stepped forward. "Marcia ! —you here!"' "I heard the explosion. T thought that help might be wanted. I have brought such things with me as may be useful to the injured. Shall X leave them here —with the women — or take them to Wold Hall?” His face had lighted strangely beneath its coat of blackened smoke, which gave him a strangeness of aspect which was curious in a man who always appeared so well-groomed and fastidiously clean. He looked at his blackened hands which he had for a moment stretched out to her, and he let them fall to his side. "I am not fit to touch you. I have been in the engine house. But I thank you for your thought. It was like you. The foreman shall deal with your supplies, Marcia. They may be -wanted. We do not yet know what we shall find ; but ” "Marcus, send the foreman down — why should you go?" In a low voice he answered her. "Because they will not go without me. You will not hold me back from my duty, Marcia. Those men below are our servants and our follow labourers. If help does not reach them 'they must perish. If we succeed in

reaching them they have a chance. It is my place to go and see. I tell you, not one man will budge without me!” “Then there is danger?” “Yes,” he answered quietly, “there is danger. But it is a danger I have isfaced unscathed many times before — and we shall take every precaution. I thank you for coming, Marcia. But go home now. You shall have early notice ” “I shall remain at Wold Hall,” spoke Marcia, with a note in her voice as inflexible as his own. “If your place is there, Marcus,” indicating the smoking caldron of the shaft —“mine is at your house, near you. Come back to me there as soon as you can. Take every care —for my sake—if not for your own.” His eyes lighted once more. His hands were outstretched, and hers met them in a clasp such as had never passed between them before. Leslie was certain that but for the presence of the crowd about the pit’s mouth he would have kissed the quivering lips turned up towards him. “Take care of her, Leslie,” said Marcus, betraying his emotion by the use of her Christian name ; and then he sprang back to his place in the cage, and a mighty cloud-shaking shout went up as the rescue-party sank out of sight. Marcia, her eyes blinded by tears, turned away, letting Leslie guide her steps, and the crowd made way for her in respectful silence. As they approached the carriage waiting for them on the outskirts of the settlement, neither of them saw a wild, haggard face peer out at them as they passed from the shelter of some stunted bushes, or heard the low demoniac laugh of the old dalesman as he cried : “The first blow has been struck already—the second follows. The righteous vengeance shall overtake the evil doer, and he shall cumber the earth no more!” (To be continued.)