Something had happened.What? "Nothing" (the speaker is fluent, but uneasy)--"one of the gentlemen, in trying to dislodge a 'specimen' from the wall, had knocked away a support.There had been a 'cave'--the gentleman was caught, and buried below his shoulders.It was all right, they'd get him out in a moment--only it required great care to keep from extending the 'cave.' Didn't know his name.It was that little man, the husband of that lively lady with the black eyes.Eh! Hullo, there! Stop her! For God's sake! Not that way! She'll fall from that shaft.She'll be killed!"But the lively lady was already gone.With staring black eyes, imploringly trying to pierce the gloom, with hands and feet that sought to batter and break down the thick darkness, with incoherent cries and supplications following the moving of ignis fatuus lights ahead, she ran, and ran swiftly!--ran over treacherous foundations, ran by yawning gulfs, ran past branching galleries and arches, ran wildly, ran despairingly, ran blindly, and at last ran into the arms of the "Fool of Five Forks."In an instant she caught at his hand."Oh, save him!" she cried.
"You belong here; you know this dreadful place: bring me to him.
Tell me where to go, and what to do, I implore you! Quick, he is dying! Come!"He raised his eyes to hers, and then, with a sudden cry, dropped the rope and crowbar he was carrying, and reeled against the wall.
"Annie!" he gasped slowly."Is it you?"
She caught at both his hands, brought her face to his with staring eyes, murmured, "Good God, Cyrus!" and sank upon her knees before him.
He tried to disengage the hand that she wrung with passionate entreaty.
"No, no! Cyrus, you will forgive me--you will forget the past!
God has sent you here to-day.You will come with me.You will--you must--save him!"
"Save who?" cried Cyrus hoarsely.
"My husband!"
The blow was so direct, so strong and overwhelming, that, even through her own stronger and more selfish absorption, she saw it in the face of the man, and pitied him.
"I thought--you--knew--it," she faltered.
He did not speak, but looked at her with fixed, dumb eyes.And then the sound of distant voices and hurrying feet started her again into passionate life.She once more caught his hand.
"O Cyrus, hear me! If you have loved me through all these years, you will not fail me now.You must save him! You can! You are brave and strong--you always were, Cyrus.You will save him, Cyrus, for my sake, for the sake of your love for me! You will--I know it.God bless you!"
She rose as if to follow him, but, at a gesture of command, she stood still.He picked up the rope and crowbar slowly, and in a dazed, blinded way, that, in her agony of impatience and alarm, seemed protracted to cruel infinity.Then he turned, and, raising her hand to his lips, kissed it slowly, looked at her again, and the next moment was gone.
He did not return; for at the end of the next half-hour, when they laid before her the half-conscious, breathing body of her husband, safe and unharmed, but for exhaustion and some slight bruises, she learned that the worst fears of the workmen had been realized.In releasing him, a second cave had taken place.They had barely time to snatch away the helpless body of her husband, before the strong frame of his rescuer, Cyrus Hawkins, was struck and smitten down in his place.
For two hours he lay there, crushed and broken-limbed, with a heavy beam lying across his breast, in sight of all, conscious and patient.For two hours they had labored around him, wildly, despairingly, hopefully, with the wills of gods and the strength of giants; and at the end of that time they came to an upright timber, which rested its base upon the beam.There was a cry for axes, and one was already swinging in the air, when the dying man called to them feebly,--"Don't cut that upright!"
"Why?"
"It will bring down the whole gallery with it.""How?"
"It's one of the foundations of my house."
The axe fell from the workman's hand, and with a blanched face he turned to his fellows.It was too true.They were in the uppermost gallery; and the "cave" had taken place directly below the new house.After a pause, the "Fool" spoke again more feebly.
"The lady--quick!"
They brought her,--a wretched, fainting creature, with pallid face and streaming eyes,--and fell back as she bent her face above him.
"It was built for you, Annie darling," he said in a hurried whisper, "and has been waiting up there for you and me all these long days.it's deeded to you, Annie; and you must--live there--with HIM! He will not mind that I shall be always near you; for it stands above--my grave."And he was right.In a few minutes later, when he had passed away, they did not move him, but sat by his body all night with a torch at his feet and head.And the next day they walled up the gallery as a vault; but they put no mark or any sign thereon, trusting, rather, to the monument, that, bright and cheerful, rose above him in the sunlight of the hill.And those who heard the story said, "This is not an evidence of death and gloom and sorrow, as are other monuments, but is a sign of life and light and hope, wherefore shall all know that he who lies under it is what men call--"a fool."
