by Mayne Reid
and was that not proof that I loved you dearly? Allthat I have done, I am willing to do again; but what I had hoped to do,is no longer possible. You have not proved worthy of my love, and cannever be my wife.'
"As I said this, she was nearly distracted; and declared that she wouldnever accept another shilling from me. She promised to do for me allthat I had done for her: to work for me, and let me live in idleness. Ihad at last succeeded in winning her love.
"Perhaps I was wrong in having done so; but the manner in which I hadbeen myself wronged, rendered me incapable of acting honest. I couldnot help taking this way to larn her a little manners. There wasanother I intended larning a lesson to, before I left London; but Idetermined to teach him in a very different way. It was the swell thathad ruined Ann.
"I looked out for him; and found him in the street, on the way to hisplace of business. I laid one o' my flippers on his shoulder, to keephim from escaping, while I gave him his lesson with the other. Iflattened his nose, nearly tore off one of his ears; and did him someother damage besides. The police pulled me off o' him; and I was takenaway to the station, and next day brought before a magistrate.
"I only got two months for giving the conceited snob his lesson, which Ididn't much regret, for I was just as well off in the gaol as anywhereelse. My time or my liberty was worth nothing more to me. When againset free, I made another voyage to India, and got back in fourteenmonths.
"When I returned, Ann was dead. She had died in the same work-house, inwhich she was born.
"Since then, there has been no particular reason why I should behavemyself; and I have been, as you see me, old Stormy Jack. I never againthought of getting married. I could only love but one; and that one itwas not my fate to be spliced to. I suppose it was never intended Ishould get married. At all events, I don't mean to try. I made onegirl miserable by not marrying her; and I might make another miserableif I did."
With this hypothetical reflection, Stormy concluded his sad story.
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END OF VOLUME ONE.
Volume Two, Chapter I.
A STRANGE SUMMONS FROM STORMY.
As already stated, I had left the northern diggings with the design ofgoing to the Tuolumne river; and that on my way to the latter place Ihad met Guinane--who had induced me to relinquish my design, and stopawhile on the Stanislaus.
Now that Guinane was gone, and the claim in which we had been partnersworked out, there was nothing to hinder me from carrying out my originalintention; and I resolved, to leave the Stanislaus' diggings, andproceed onward to the Tuolumne.
Stormy Jack, who stayed behind, promised to join me, as soon as heshould have worked out his claim on the Stanislaus--which he expected todo in about three weeks.
On reaching the Tuolumne, I proceeded to Jacksonville--a little miningvillage, where, after looking about a couple of days, I purchased twoshares in a claim that lay upon the bank of the river.
Not liking the sort of work required to be done on this claim--which waswet--I employed men to work it for me. I could afford to do this: for,having toiled hard ever since my arrival in the diggings, and not havingbeen either unsuccessful or extravagant, I had begun to believe thatLenore might yet be mine. The brighter this hope became, the more valuedid I set on my life; and was therefore careful not to endanger myhealth by working in a "wet claim."
Another change had taken place in my domestic arrangements. I no longerlived in a miner's tent, nor did I continue to act as my own cook andwasher-woman. I was worth several hundred pounds; and began to have abetter opinion of myself than ever before. So proud was I of possessingsuch a sum of money, that had I been in Liverpool at that time, I shouldnot have hesitated to talk of love to Lenore.
The life of most gold-diggers is wretched beyond belief. Theinconveniences and hardships they endure are but poorly repaid, by theirfreedom from the irksome regulations and restraints of more civilisedlife. I have seen miners eating bread that had been kneaded _in a hat_,and baked in the hot ashes of their camp fire! I have seen themsuffering many hardships--even hunger itself--at the very time they wereencumbered with ponderous bags of gold!
In the days when gold-digging was romantic and fashionable, I have seenlearned lawyers, skilled physicians, and eloquent divines--who had beenseduced by the charms of a miner's life--passing the Sabbath day at thewashtub, or seated outside their tents, needle in hand, stitching thetorn seams of their ragged and scanty clothing. I had myself beenfollowing this rude manner of life, ever since my arrival at thediggings; but it had now lost its charms, and after reaching theTuolumne, I took up my residence in a French boarding-house.
My two shares in the claim I had purchased soon began to yield a richreturn, so that I was able to purchase several more, and also employmore men in working them.
One day I received a visit from Stormy Jack, who had come over from theStanislaus, as he said, "to take bearings before sailing out fromSonora."
He saw how comfortably I was living in Jacksonville; and that I wasmaking money without much hard work.
"I'll come and live like you," said he, "for I am getting too richmyself to go on as I've been doing. I won't stand hard work anylonger."
After spending the day with me, he returned to Sonora--with theintention of selling out his claims on the Stanislaus, and coming toreside at Jacksonville.
The day after he had gone away--which chanced to be Saturday--at a latehour of the evening, I received a letter from him. He had written itthat morning, and sent it to me by a shopkeeper who chanced to bereturning to Jacksonville. So badly was the letter written, that I wasoccupied all the rest of the evening deciphering it; but after spendingmuch time, patience, and ingenuity upon the epistle, I arrived at atolerable understanding of the intelligence it was intended to convey.
Stormy commenced by stating, that I must excuse all faults: for it wasthe first letter he had written for a period of more than thirty years.In fact, all correspondence of an epistolary kind on Stormy's part hadbeen discontinued on the death of Ann!
I was then informed, in the old sailor's characteristic fashion, that amurder had just been committed on the Stani. A woman had been killed byher husband; and the husband had been summarily tried, and found guiltyof the crime.
The next day, at noon, the miners were going to teach the murderer"manners," by hanging him to a tree. I was advised to come over, and bea spectator of the lesson--for the reason that Stormy believed we hadboth seen the guilty man before. Stormy was not sure about this. Themurderer bore a name, that he had never heard me make use of; but a namewas nothing. "I've a bit of a fancy in my head," wrote Stormy, "that Ihave seen the man many years ago; and that _you_ will know who he is--though I can't be sartain. So come and see for yourself. I'll expectyou to be at my tent, by eleven o'clock in the mornin'."
Who could the murderer be, that _I_ should know him? Could Stormy bemistaken? Had he been drinking; and this time become affected in thebrain, instead of the legs?
I could hardly think it was drink. He would not have taken the troubleto write, his first epistle in thirty years, without some weightyreason.
I went to see the store-keeper who had brought the letter. From him Ilearnt that a murder _had_ been committed by a man from Sydney, and thatthe murderer was to be hung on the following day.
As I continued to reflect on the information I thus received, a horridthought came into my mind. Could the murderer be Mr Leary? Could hisvictim have been my mother?
There was a time when this thought would have produced on me a differenteffect from what it did then, a time when, dark as might have been thenight, such a suspicion would have caused me to spring to my feet andinstantaneously take the road to Sonora.
It did not then. I now felt less interest in the mystery I had so longbeen endeavouring to solve. Time, with the experience it brought, hadrendered me less impulsive, if not less firm in purpose. I could not,however, sl
eep upon the suspicion; and after passing a wretched night, Iwas up before the sun.
Sonora was about thirteen miles distant from the Tuolumne diggings. Itwould be a pleasant morning walk; and I determined to go afoot. Theexercise would only give me an appetite--so that I should enjoy mybreakfast after reaching the Stanislaus. I could take plenty of time onthe way, and still be there by nine o'clock--two hours sooner Stormyexpected me.
I started along the road--meditating as I walked onward, what course Ishould pursue, supposing the murderer should turn out to be Leary, andsupposing the murdered woman to be my mother!
Mr Leary was the husband of my mother. He was my stepfather. Should Iallow him to be hung?
Such thoughts coursed rapidly through my mind, as I proceeded along thesolitary path. I could not check them, by the reflection that, afterall, the man might _not_ be Mr Leary. Why I had thought of him at all,was because I could
