Victor or Victim; or, the Mine of Darley Dale. A tale

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WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR. I.— "ABEL DRAKE'S WIFE," Or the Story of an Inventor : the scene, Lancashire. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. " Very few will read ' Abel Drake's Wife ' without eager interest, or lay it down without feeling that the writer, despite his deficiencies, is a man of original power. The truth is, he can create, not merely describe ; can produce before us beings whom we recognise, and sympathise with, and feel we can comprehend." — Spectator. " This is a striking book, clever, interesting and original. It is far above the common run of novels or of novelettes, and can scarcely fail to attract attention. To those, indeed, who confine their reading solely to tales of fashionable life, who are incapable of seeling any sympathy with a hero who is beneath the rank of a Count, or of taking any interest in a heroine who is not, at least, a Baroness in her own right, and who expect the third volume to end in an unlimited display of lace and diamonds and a rent-roll of 20,000/. a year at the very lowest computation, this simple story of ' Abel Drake's Wife ' may appear unworthy of perusal.

But to all who take pleasure in the study of human nature, to all who are capable of recognizing true nobility, even in the person of a poor factory-girl, or of detecting one of " natures gentlemen " in the disguise of a humble adven turer, this work will be heartily welcome. We have seldom met with a book so thoroughly true to life, so deeply interesting in its detail, and so touching in its simple pathos as 'Abel Drake's Wife.' The description in the first chapter of the wild abandonment to grief which absorbs the young mother on the death of her baby, at once arrests our sympathy. The picture of the ' thin, weird little face that looked as if it had never yet worn a smile, and the bright golden hair that lay around it in shining rings on the pillow that seemed too full of life and brightness to belong to it,' and then the outburst of passionate anger against the father, who has never seen his child, and who left his wife to PRESS OPINIONS ON "ABEL DRAKE'S WIFE." struggle on alone with her poverty and her trouble, can hardly be read unmoved : — " ' Mother, I canna help it,' was Barbara's fierce reply to some gentle remonstrance from her widowed mother. ' I feel I mun hate him if my little baby's took fro' me, as I began to hate him afore it coom, when he'd left me wi'out a penny or a bed to laye me down in, wi'nout but his bad name to help me thro' the warld.

Aye, then I began to hate him an all th' warld, and most of all mysel' ; an every neet I shut my eyes wishin' I might niver be able to open 'em again ; an every mornin' I woke sick o' th' light an' sunshine an' wanting nubbut to die. An' then my little baby cum to stop me, an' comfort me, an' mak' me better. As I lay awake o' neets, an' felt it lying warm an' soft an' still in my arms, nestling to me closer an' closer, I couldna think o' hating ony longer.' " But it was a hopeless case. In spite of all that could be done for her baby, 'death conquered,' and slowly and reluctantly Barbara awoke to a sense of her bereavement. Mrs. Wolcombe, the good wife of the great manufacturer, vainly tried to soothe her, but ' her words fell on deaf ears ; her face grew only more dark, the eyes mere dry and wild.' Presently she spoke, ' the sound of her voice sending a shock through their hearts " : — "Abel Drake !

Chapter I. Lipstone And Its Surroundings

WM -^ one °f tlio.se mornings of March which f&p! are generally considered to belong to Ji \C Spring but seem to own allegiance only tl!> to Winter, and to be among the most loyal of its subjects, a young man, at an early hour, strode hastily down the icy, mistveiled slopes of a Derbyshire hill towards the valley below, bent apparently on some errand of importance, which hardly allowed him to think of the slippery ground he was passing over ; sometimes by a jump from one rocky projection to another, aided by a stout stick, and occasionally by an involuntary slide. B His sharply cut, well-formed, strong face, ordinarily calm and undemonstrative, showed plainly the excitement that possessed him ; while the increased pace with which he pressed forward through the valley, in a different direction, the moment he had accomplished the descent, told as plainly his sense of the necessity of speed.

On reaching the centre of the hollow at the bottom of the surrounding amphitheatre of hills, one of the loveliest that even Derbyshire possesses, he paused at the entrance of a lane — not apparently to take a passing glimpse of the wintry scene around which he had so often admired even in that state — but as if hesita ting whether to go that way, or to take a shorter but more broken footpath across the fields, which in parts were often under water. Suddenly a burst of sunshine flooded the whole valley and amphitheatre with light and warmth, and so changed the aspect of everything around, that pre-occupied as he was in mind, and being naturally of an unimaginative temperament, he still could not help turning round for a brief space to gaze, and to wonder at the glorious transformation he beheld, which LIPSTONE AND ITS SURROUNDINGS. 7 caused him to exclaim in low deep tones, full ■of feeling thatwas not all due to the landscape — " Beautiful !

How very beautiful ! And all the work of a moment. No magician like. the sun ! I don't wonder that nations have worshipped it. I could kneel myself if I didn't know better, and had nothing else to do." With a laugh at his own brief enthusiasm lie turned and went his way. But the remembrance that had helped to kindle his enthusiasm remained ; for he was thinking in whose company he had once before seen the same picture just as suddenly light up for him, and for him only; for then the golden radiance issued from a pair of human eyes, and from one of the most attractive of girlish faces, and were to him, for the time, the only objects in the world worth living for. The sunny glow and brightness above and around continued; the ground lost its crispness; ■every tree he passed sparkled with innumerable dew drops ; and the air became so sweet and balmy, that it would hardly have surprised him if he had found in the cottage gardens he was beginning to pass in the lane, their little store of half-frozen flowers come all at once into full bloom, as indeed he did find some expanding to the sun's irresistible wooing.

But the glow and brightness had already passed from his own face, which became clouded just when one might have supposed he must be thinking in a very different frame of mind of the maiden whose beauty had so moved him, and whom he would presently see. Sighing, he stopped abruptly, took a letter from his pocket addressed in a curiously pretty and picturesque handwriting to "Anthony Fearne, Esq.," and again read it, as follows: — "Lipstone, March 20, 18— " Dear Mr. Fearne, 3 "It is but right you should be informed by somebody that you are in danger of losing ground with my father through your absence these last few weeks, and that there is one near ready to profit by any and every opportunitv. " I should not myself Lave written to 3-011 to say this were there the least possibility that any one else would, or, indeed, could.

" Sincerely yours, "Mabel Dakeyne." LIPSTONE AND ifS SURROUNDINGS. 9 This was the letter which had reached Anthony in London, only a few hours before, but luckily in time for him to catch a night mail train that set him down at a station within five miles of Lipstone, and from whence he had so timed his setting out as to be able to reach about the breakfast hour. In the hurry of the departure from London, and in the bustle of writing for the first post office that might be available some letters and post-cards on business matters that he thought it best to provide for at once, and which, with the aid of a traveller's lamp, a writing case, and the elbow of his seat, he managed to get through in the train, he had but once read Miss Dakeyne's letter before his present stop in the lane. In that first hurried perusal he had derived from it the impression that something was going on adverse to his interests — from what quarter he did not need to ask — and that Miss Dakeyne felt it a duty she could not evade to tell him so, whilst making known her feeling that she would gladly have been spared its fulfilment.

Now, as he read it for the second time almost within sight of the house where she was, he saw, or thought he saw, a recurrence to a warmer feeling, traceable in her letter. A strangely complicated expression then passed over his face, which would have puzzled even a Lavater to explain ; but which might be ultimately resolved into two contradictory elements ; that Anthony Fearne was moved at once to pleasure and pain by the self-same idea of her still existing regard for him, however veiled. Conscious of the folly of this, he moved on towards her home, which in boyhood had been his also, but with a slackened pace ; in order the better to collect his thoughts in view of this fresh source of embarrassment, which might seriously affect his proper dealing with the danger she had indicated unless he kept the former under strict control.

A few minutes were thus spent in reflection, and in making resolves as to what he would do. He then became clear of vision, self possessed, and ready to act without doubt or hesitation, as men of action usually are after such preliminaries. And Anthony Fearne was before anything else a true man of action ; LLPSTONE AND ITS SURROUNDINGS. 11 despising men whom he called, with more or less of justice, dreamers. He was now leaving the lane, and had mounted a stile, in order to cross the only field that stretched between him and Lipstone. He rested a moment on the stile as if to take a fresh view of the house and its surroundings, which were now full before him. And he might well do so, if only to notice once more their incongruous character. But if the remarkable contrast between the two elements of the place had ever been noticed by him the impression had long ago died out and been forgotten, and was the last thing likely to be revived in his present mood.

But no intelligent stranger whom chance or curiosity had ever brought near could look with the same indifference. Lipstone tells its own story at a glance, as a two-storied, fine old manor house, built centuries ago ; not large, but with broad and high mullioned windows, so clothed from base to eaves with ivy that the windows would be speedily extinguished altogether but for the close cutting that has to be constantly maintained about the frames. A small, but deliciously green bit of lawn extends in front, with flower borders on each side, that are already gay with daffodils and violets, and a few lingering snowdrops and crocusses, through the shelter they enjoy from all adverse winds by hedges of variegated holly. In one corner, attached to the house, and opening into it by glass doors, is a conser vatory ; brilliant with blossoms of a less hardy nature, conspicuous among which appear camellias, in richest bloom and varied colours.

In fine, everything betokens one of those well ordered, refined, domestic homes in which our country is so rich, but which, for that very reason, are in no sense remarkable. But move a little nearer, and turn some what to the right, as Anthony is now going, and what then do we see ? Great mounds of black refuse, to which men with wheelbarrows running over a line of planks are incessantly adding ; a couple of grimy chimneys, one very tall ; an oddly shaped, narrow tower-like structure, also very high, and with a sort of gigantic tongue protruding from it, and moving at regular intervals up and down within a skeleton framework of timber beams attached to the tower ; and ■3 lastly, groups of men, grimmer and grimier than the buildings, engaged in a variety of processes, with equally various implements and appliances, but all relating to one end and aim, the washing and purification of the ore that is being dug from the bowels of the earth some ninety yards down, so as to bring it at last to the state in which it is found in various corners, glittering, black, heavy — in a word lead, ready to be sent forth for a hundred different uses.

And then, as if to round and complete the sombre picture, and intensify the contrast spoken of, the little army of miners who work below not only labour under the most depressing conditions, physical and mental — the mine being very wet, and requiring pumps to be always going, thus making the employment so unhealthy that they work only six hours a day — but to add to this their earnings are low in the average, and subject to violent fluctuations. Such is the lead mine, wretched, squalid and hideous. Such the charming abode, joined to it, in ill-assorted union, the residence of the mine owner, Lionel Dakeyne, the father of Anthony's fair correspondent. yiCTOR OR VICTIM. 14 As Anthony now advances with rapid steps towards the door, he sees a female form that he guesses to be Mabel Dakeyne's, cross one of the upper windows, as if hurrying to meet him.

Again there is a conflict of feeling, but no change of purpose, as he hardens himself to greet her calmly ; and make her aware, should she still need any such knowledge, that he is her true and grateful friend, nothing less or more ; when, before he has time to knock, the door is opened, and in an instant all Anthony's preparations are scattered to the winds, for it is Jacob Kinder who stands on the threshold, the manager of the mine, the man to whom alone Mabel Dakeyne's warning could apply, and the man whom of all others in the world he least desired to see, and who in return has no doubt much the same feeling about him ; and is evidently surprised at his arrival. The faces of the two during the first moments of recognition would have been attractive to the student of human nature. For an instant only did their mutual repulsion show itself in a sudden burst of truthfulness, that was forth and visible before there was time to give check.

And what their eyes said in that brief space there needed no words definitely to explain. If they disliked before,. they hated now. But even as Anthony shrank back he became conscious of his possible injustice ; while Jacob Kinder, with even greater speed, took up a new position to efface the very recollection of the unlucky one —as he esteemed it — he had dropped into. " Very glad to see you, though a little surprised at first ! Come in !" he said, in a manner so hearty that Anthony really did begin to feel ashamed. And if anything could have persuaded him that it was a friend instead of an enemy who stood before him, smiling and with out stretched hands, he would have believed now. But the smile seemed to remind him of one of those treacherous gleams of sun that beguile us forth only to find too late we are out in the blackest and bitterest of days.

Below and behind the smile there seemed always some thing indefinable to lurk, which as now chilled the hand-grasp, and deprived the cheery words of their natural meaning and significance. Still, Anthony could not act on such vague VICTOR OR VICTIM. and possibly unworthy thoughts. He knew he had a bias against Jacob Kinder, who had once made advances to Mabel Dakeyne ; and he was rather addicted to priding himself on his love of justice, no matter whither it might lead him. So he responded as cordially as he could, and went into the house with Kinder, who presently said — " I suppose your present visit is due to the bad news about Mr. Dakeyne ?" " Bad news ! What news ? I have heard nothing on the subject. Pray tell me !" " Why, he has been taken very ill during the night, and I thought the fact might in some way have reached you — particularly if you had happened to be near."

These last words were toned so like a question, that it seemed only natural that they should receive an answer. But Anthony merely said — " And how is he now ?" "Much better. So much, indeed, that he would not let me telegraph to you, as I wished " "You were very kind and thoughtful," interposed Anthony. "No— it was my duty. But Mr. Dakeyne has, I fancy, written to you to come and see him — since my talk with him — though the letter cannot have yet gone. Shall I see if there is one in the box for you ?" " If vou will be so kind, I shall be obliged. Is Miss Dakeyne yet down ? " " I think not." " I would like to see her before going to her father. Would you kindly say so ?" "Certainly," responded Kinder; and his black bearded face, which would have been handsome but for the sinister expression that he felt it so difficult to keep away in critical moments, looked bright as he went on his double errand.

Anthony gazed after him in deep feeling, which he tried vainly to suppress, and at last his thoughts broke loose in this fashion — " Try as I will, it is of no use ! If that man is not a treacherous, therefore a dangerous, and therefore a most hateful enemy, I will, on proof thereof, renounce the very use of judg ment on persons evermore ! " While waiting in the choicely-furnished, modern-antique looking drawing-room, wondering at Kinder's delay in returning from the letterbox, he half-unconsciously went to the window, and stood there, as if looking out on the lawn and the flowers, but really lost in thought. A gentle step approached, but was unnoticed until it came quite close ; when a voice, tremulous and sweet, startled him out of his reverie. He turned, Mabel Dakeyne was before him, with the old, winning, and girlishly-innocent smile on her face ; but which presently changed to a burning crimson as she saw his colour deepening in spite of the stern, strong will that tried to keep his countenance under control.

Hardly knowing either of them, what they did, their hands somehow met ; then there was a look into each other's eyes, and then — whv then both turned towards the window as if seeking light, and finding it, for the hands did not separate till hearts had for the second time, and more firmly, become knit together. Had Anthony in that mutual gaze seen the tokens of all she had suffered since they last met, and which her tell-tale features could not conceal, and been so moved by its simple pathos that he could think of nothing else ? It was with a deep blush again mantling in her cheek that Mabel Dakeyne at last withdrew her fingers from his clasp, but still remained at the window, appearing to see something that attracted her eyes, while con scious that he was gazing on her face with more than the old worship and admiration.

" What a fool I am ! " was at that moment Anthony's inward thought as he reviewed his wise resolves beforehand ; while feeling, how ever, that such folly gave him more delight than all his wisdom. Yes, Anthony Fearne had come to learn once more the old lesson. Love's resolves against love are like the icicles of our frequent springs — attracting by their beauty when their cold ness might repel, and disappearing in the first rush of sunshine, whether of the heart or our world's luminary. It was remarkable that even now neither recurred to the past estrangement or its cause, as though there was something in its very nature that imposed insuperable difficulties of speech to one or both ; its origin, perhaps unknown to one, and possibly a subject of doubt to the other. Mabel Dakeyne was too happy to speak at all, and possibly afraid of what she might say, and be sorry for afterwards if she did.

So he had to begin, and it was characteristic of him, that he relapsed in words to the colourless speech he had previously determined to use ;. while the tone and manner that accompanied them gave the listener, and rightly, the im pression they sprang from true warmth. " I have lost no time in coming to thank you for your warning, and in learning the nature of the evil that threatens," he said, with a smile. " It will be dangerous to speak of that now. He is always about — always on the watch — nothing escapes him." " You mean Kinder ? " "Yes, but avoid names. He has already told my father of your arrival." " And did he tell you, as I asked him ? " "No — but he may be going to do so soon." Anthony Fearne coughed significantly. And then, for the first time, did Mabel Dakeyne's spirits rebound from their long period of de pression, and a bright silvery laugh ranoout and wonderfully cleared the mental atmosphere.

She was herself again, and her character was revealed in her open charming countenance, as one of the happiest-hearted, sweetest-tempered, and most loving and loveable of women. And although that kind of character is too often accompanied by weakness of judgment or will, ov at least by a tendency to be merely gentle, amiable, and sympathetic, when the circumstances indicate a legitimate demand for sterner and higher qualities, Anthony Fearne could apply no such criticism here ; for he had himself had occasion to know and to feel she could, on sufficient motive, exhibit a will of her own that others could not but respect and defer to. This, hoR-ever, was exhibited, as yet, only as an incident of her life, not as an essential part of the life itself ; which was naturally bright, joyous, impulsive, and causing at times an abandonment to the sportive moods of the hour so complete as at once to fascinate and alarm her best friends.

A shade now came over her face as she said to Anthony — "My father has had an alarming attack of his old complaint, asthma, which I feared was coming on when I wrote to you." " But he is better ? " c " Thank God, yes ! Come, he waits to see you. My father is not very communicative as a general thing, but I have noticed of late that he is apt to be still less so with those for whom he is working most kindly and heartily, I mean those whom he loves or cares for. I begin to fear I have misjudged him of late ; and that the cunning manager, of whom I was afraid, is himself being managed by a brain as subtle as his own, and a thousand times more honest. Please, therefore, suspend your judgment about what I have said, or suspected, or feared, till you know all. Something of moment is in my father's mind.

Of that I have been sure for some days past ; whether it will now come out, or whether we must wait patiently till it does, without seeming to do so, I cannot tell." She stopped abruptly, as she noticed the admiring expression of Anthony's features ; not merely on account of her beauty or simple frankness of speech, but of what he considered her clear logical view and exposition of the state of things ; and which he could not but acknowledge, when he saw her embarrassment, before adding — " I cannot sufficiently thank you, or too carefully treasure all you say." "Will you breakfast first, or go now to my father for a few minutes, and then join us at the table ? " " Us ! Does Kinder now live here ? " " Yes ; it was the wish of my father that he should do so, when no suitable lodging could be found in the neighbourhood.

They have much to talk about at meal times, so that I am little called on — and could offer no objection, whatever I felt." Anthony thought he would much liked to have been present, unseen, at some of those "meal times," and have judged for himself as to Jacob Kinder's behaviour towards Mabel Dakeyne, who, he believed, was carefully keeping back much that she knew, while showing in her own undemonstrative wav, wdien obliged to reveal her mental attitude, how intensely she disliked and mistrusted him. " I breakfasted at the station and am ready now to follow you to your father," was his only comment after a significant silence, and they left the room together.

Chapter II. The Mine Owner's Levee

SFZSIN a bedroom — which at the first glance '~ ™| appeared to be only a sitting-room, for the - bed stood in an alcove, and was concealed *^* by heavy curtains of crimson velvet — { Mr. Dakeyne reclined on a couch drawn near an oppressively large fire, with a writing table so close at hand that bv a slight change of position he could readily command its use. Upon the table lay a formidable-looking foolscap paper document, garnished with seals impressed in red wax, and a few official books of reference. The walls were literally covered with maps, chiefly geological, of Derbyshire and its mining districts ; while some in larger detail were devoted exclusively to lead mines which had belonged or stdl belonged to Mr. Lionel Dakeyne. That gentleman, at the moment of his introduction to the reader, was holding a short but serious conversation with Mr. Jacob Kinder, and it was curious to see how differently the invalid and his manager were affected by it.

The former was obviously a great sufferer from phlegm, and from the difficulty to breathe induced by his complaint, which might soon become dangerous if he risked any violent agitation. But in spite of his thickly shawled neck, pale face, and tremulous hands, white and bloodless, there was an air of gaiety and enjoyment about everything he said or did. Kinder, on the other hand, the robust, strong-limbed man, who had never yet known the experience of a single lengthy or dangerous illness, sat with eyes cast on the floor, in that critical state of mind which is apt to take possession of us wdien we see long cherished hopes and designs overthrown in an instant ; and the temptation is strong to assail with all our might the man who has deceived us, or of whom we choose to think so, and who is yet before us, but may give us no other opportunity if we lose the present one.

But what aggravated Jacob Kinder's position was the obvious fact that while his employer's words were so conciliatory and full of explanation, his looks revealed how great was his sense of relief, how profound his. satisfaction at all he had done, or had yet ta do. " Well now, my dear Jacob, I hope I have cpiite convinced you that it is not from discontent with your management that I have given you notice to leave, for I shall be only too pleased to make the period of departure a matter of mutual convenience, and meantime will gladly answer any references to me in the most friendly way." " I came here, Mr. Dakeyne, with very different expectations. I have worked here in a way that I thought entitled me to very different treatment !" "Ah, the expectations I had no share in forming, so you must acquit me of all responsibility on that score.

As to the treatment, Jacob, you are unreasonable. You knew I had educated Anthony, the son of a dear friend, with an express view to the mining industry ; you knew how attached tohim I was, and he to me ; what then, more likely, than after he had cultivated to the utmost his knowledge of and skill in mining, and had even condescended to the squalid drudgery of actual work as a miner for a few weeks at my request, I put it to you, my dear fellow, what would be more likely than the upshot would be his coming here when quite prepared, as he now is ?" Kinder rose, his dark complexion taking a deeper hue, and then for the first time did he fairly confront Mr. Dakeyne, eye to eye, front to front, as he said, — " Is this all you have got to say to me V "Why, what more would you have me say ?" " Nothing !