While it remained unworked, the mine had been a safe enough
place of
refuge, secure from all search or
pursuit. But now,
circumstances being altered, it became difficult to
conceal this
lurking-place, and it might
reasonably be hoped they were gone,
and that nothing for the future was to be dreaded from them.
James Starr, however, could not feel sure about it;
neither could Harry be satisfied on the subject, often repeating,
"Nell has clearly been mixed up with all this secret business.
If she had nothing more to fear, why should she keep silence?
It cannot be doubted that she is happy with us. She likes us all--
she adores my mother. Her
absolute silence as to her former life,
when by
speaking out she might benefit us, proves to me that some
awful secret, which she dares not reveal, weighs on her mind.
It may also be that she believes it better for us, as well as for herself,
that she should remain mute in a way
otherwise so unaccountable."
In
consequence of these opinions, it was agreed by common consent
to avoid all
allusion to the
maiden's former mode of life.
One day, however, Harry was led to make known to Nell what
James Starr, his father, mother, and himself believed they owed
to her interference.
It was a fete-day. The miners made
holiday on the surface of
the county of Stirling as well as in its subterraneous domains.
Parties of
holiday-makers were moving about in all directions.
Songs resounded in many places beneath the sonorous vaults
of New Aberfoyle. Harry and Nell left the
cottage, and slowly
walked along the left bank of Loch Malcolm.
Then the electric
brilliance darted less
vividly, and the rays were
interrupted with
fantastic effect by the sharp angles of the picturesque
rocks which supported the dome. This
imperfect light suited Nell,
to whose eyes a glare was very unpleasant.
"Nell," said Harry, "your eyes are not fit for
daylight yet,
and could not bear the
brightness of the sun."
"Indeed they could not," replied the girl; "if the sun is such as you
describe it to me, Harry."
"I cannot by any words, Nell, give you an idea either of his splendor
or of the beauty of that
universe which your eyes have never beheld.
But tell me, is it really possible that, since the day when you
were born in the depths of the coal mine, you never once have been
up to the surface of the earth?"
"Never once, Harry," said she; "I do not believe that,
even as an
infant, my father or mother ever carried me thither.
I am sure I should have retained some
impression of the open
air if they had."
"I believe you would," answered Harry. "Long ago, Nell, many children
used to live
altogether in the mine;
communication was then difficult,
and I have met with more than one young person, quite as
ignorant as you
are of things above-ground. But now the railway through our great
tunnel takes us in a few minutes to the upper regions of our country.
I long, Nell, to hear you say, 'Come, Harry, my eyes can bear
daylight,
and I want to see the sun! I want to look upon the works
of the Al
mighty.'"
"I shall soon say so, Harry, I hope," replied the girl;
"I shall soon go with you to the world above; and yet--"
"What are you going to say, Nell?"
hastily cried Harry; "can you
possibly regret having quitted that
gloomy abyss in which you
spent your early years, and
whence we drew you half dead?"
"No, Harry," answered Nell; "I was only thinking that darkness is
beautiful as well as light. If you but knew what eyes accustomed
to its depth can see! Shades flit by, which one longs to follow;
circles
mingle and intertwine, and one could gaze on them forever;
black hollows, full of
indefinite gleams of
radiance, lie deep
at the bottom of the mine. And then the voice-like sounds!
Ah, Harry! one must have lived down there to understand what I feel,
what I can never express."
"And were you not afraid, Nell, all alone there?"
"It was just when I was alone that I was not afraid."
Nell's voice altered
slightly as she said these words; however, Harry