haven't He put sight intohis blind eyes, and shown to him the joys of Paradise; and haven't Hebin helping me to bear the pain quite wonderful? I'll _tell_ you,Gwladys," raising herself in bed, "I'll tell you what the Lord is--tender to the babies, pitiful to the sick and weak, abundant in mercy tothe sinners, and the Saviour of them that's appointed to die; and ifthat's not a God for a time of trouble, I don't know where you'll find aGod."
Gwen brought out these words in detached sentences, for she was veryweak; but her feverish eyes looked into mine, and her hot hand held myhand with energy.
"And, my maid," she continued, in an exhausted whisper, "I've dreamedthat dream again."
"Oh! Gwen--what?"
"All that dream about the mine, my maid; and I know 'tis coming true.Owen will save David."
I left Gwen, and went into my own room. On my knees, for a briefinstant, I spoke to God. "Oh! God," I said, "if you are the only helpfor a dark day, deliver us. Lord, have mercy upon us. Christ, havemercy upon us. Lord, out of the depths, here, we cry to Thee. Lord,deliver those who are appointed to die;" and then, before I rose from myknees, four low words rose from my heart--"_Thy will be done_;" verylow, in the faintest whisper--with the cold dew of agony breaking allover me, these words were wrung from my soul; still I said them. Then Iwent back to the bank. There was a change there, and some commotion--something had happened. Alas! what? My heart beat audibly. I made myway through the crowd, and found myself close to a group of colliers,who had just come up from the mine. Terrible and ominous words smote onmy ear. A new danger had arisen. There were signs of the colliers'worst enemy--gas. The Davy lamps could not be lit. Again the plug wasblown out of the hole, and the roar of air which came through theopening, prevented the loudest voice being heard.
"There is a power in there which would blow us up the heading likedust," said one.
The peril was too tremendous. Even the bravest of the brave had givenway. Dear life was too precious. The men who had toiled, as onlyheroes could toil, for so many long days and nights, faltered at length.To go forward now, seemed certain and absolute death to both rescuersand rescued.
"The boy is gone," said Moses Thomas, looking Nan in the face. "He hasbeen nine days now without food."
"God help them all; they'll soon be in eternity," said another miner,wiping the tears from his weatherbeaten face.
"This last has daunted us," said a third.
"We have done all that men could do," sighed a fourth, who, worn outfrom toil, fell half-fainting on the ground.
"To go on now, would be certain death," said a fifth.
Then there was silence--intense silence; not even the sound of a woman'ssob.
The despairing men looked at one another. All seemed over. Thestarving prisoners in the mine were to starve to death. They were tolisten in vain for the cheering sound of the mandril--in vain for theircomrades' brave voices--in vain for light, food, liberty. The rescuerscould venture into no deeper peril for their sakes.
Suddenly the strange miner sprang to the front; fazed his companionswith flashing eyes, and called out, in a deep voice rendered almostharsh by some pent-up emotion--"I'm going on, though 'tis death. Shutthe doors upon me," he added, "and I'll cut the passage through!"
Quick as lightning these words chased fear from every heart.
"I'll go, for another--and I--and I," said many. And back went thebrave men into the dark mine, to cut away, on their hands and knees, ata passage, in many places not three feet high.
I don't know how it was, but from the moment I heard that bravecollier's voice, I had hope--from that moment the worst of my heartagony was over. I felt that God would save the men. That His will wasto deliver them from this pit of destruction. I was able to hear of thefresh dangers that still awaited the brave workers--of that frightfulgas explosion, which on Friday obliged every working collier to fly forhis life, and at last to return to his noble toil in the dark. Still Iwas not afraid. I felt sure of seeing David again. And now the tenthday had dawned, and excitement and hope had reached their highestpitch--their last tension. The air-tight doors were fixed in theworkings. The men, both prisoners and rescuers, were now working incompressed air. The pumps had much reduced the water; and at last--atlast, a breach was made. The pick of a miner had broken through thewall of coal. What a moment of excitement--longing--fear! What a joy,which seemed almost too grand, and great, for earth, when, to thethousands who waited above, the news was brought that science and lovewere successful--that back again from the arms of a terrible death,would come to us, our brothers and friends. I hardly remember whatfollowed next. I never left the pit bank. I stood there, betweenmother and Nan, and watched, with straining eyes, that could hardlysee--could hardly realise, as men, borne on litters, were carried past;men with coal-black faces--rigid, immovable, as though carved ingranite.
Little Miles was brought first. He looked tiny and shrunken; yet I sawthat he breathed. Then three men, whom I did not know; but one of whomwas recognised by the under-viewer's wife.
Last of all our David. His eyes were open, and fixed on the blue sky.
When mother saw David, she fainted.
I bent over her, and tried to raise her. No one had seen her fall. Theheroes in this tragedy had kept all eyes another way. My own head, as Ibent over her, was reeling, my own brain was swimming. Suddenly twostrong hands were placed under her head, and the strange miner raisedher tenderly in his blackened and coal-covered arms.
"Gwladys, we have saved them. Thank God!" he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
AFTER THE FIRE--A STILL, SMALL VOICE.
This is the story. The rest England knows; she knows how all therescued men recovered, she also knows how she has honoured rescued andrescuers.
The last to get well, the slowest to get back again his health andstrength, was David. For a time, indeed, for David there were gravedoubts and anxieties, which on the doctors' parts amounted to fears.
The previous shock and sorrow may have made the ten days without food,in that gloomy prison, tell more severely on him, for originally he wasthe strongest man of the five. However, after a fortnight of intensewatching, the dreaded fever began to abate, and the burden of life whichhe had so nearly laid aside, he took up again, with his old cheerfulnessand courage.
"I'm glad he's not going to die," said Nan, "he's wanting down on earthstill. Oh! ain't he strong," she added; "oh! if you only heard Milestalk of him!"
One day I did hear a little of what David had done, from the boyhimself.
"Yes, Miss, he was standin' by me, when the water came in, we felt itrunning past our feet, he took my hand and said we'd run for the shaft;we run a few steps when we met Jones and two men, Powell and Williams;they said the waters were up to the roof, then we got into Powell'sstall."
"Had you any light?"
"Yes, for a while we had candles, then we was in the dark, the water wasa few feet away; when we was thirsty we drank the water, but it was verybad. No, we was _not_ very hungry, but we was most bitter cold."
"You did not think you were so long in the stall?"
"No, not more'n a week."
"And you were not frightened?"
Here the dark eyes, preternaturally large and eager-looking, gazed hardinto mine.
"No, I worn't feared to die. I thought I might die, we h'all thoughtit. I did want to kiss Nan, and father once, but Mr Morgan--"
"Well, what about Mr Morgan?"
"He spoke so, he said that the Better Land were worth going throughanything to reach; he said that may be there were no other road for anyof us to heaven, but right through the mine, and he axed us if we waswillin' to go through that road to reach it. After a bit we all said wewas."
"Well?"
"Then he'd pray to the Lord so earnest, it seemed as if the Lord wasnigh to us, and Mr Morgan said He was with us in the stall; then we'dsing."
"What did you sing, Miles?"
"Only one hymn, over and over.
We sings it at h'our meetings."
"I know it," said Nan, "I'll sing it now.
"In the deep and mighty waters. No one there can hold my head; But my only Saviour Jesus, Who was slaughtered in my stead.
"Friend, he is in Jordan's river. Holds above the wave my head; With His smile I'll go rejoicing, Through the regions of the dead."
"Ah!" said Miles, "you never'd know wot that hymn's worth unless you wasin the mine. Then we heard the men knocking, and that kep up ourhearts, and Mr Morgan said we might be rescued; but any way 'twas allright. Towards the end two of the men got queer and off