in the past—from a standpoint of fixed opinions and no experience—maurice malherb had condemned suicide and pronounced the action improper under any circumstances. but now, in the light of that day's deed, it seemed that suicide opened the sole road which led from ignominy and disgrace immeasurable. he had forfeited his life. his exhausted body cried out for food and rest; but his mind was active, and chaos, untouched by the light of any star, raged there. he stayed his steps, sat down amid old ruins and brooded upon death.
his purpose slowly established itself, and he determined to depart in such a manner that no man should know of his going or gaze upon his corpse. he might perish in the tenantless wastes westward of the beam, and feed vermin, and make the wild asphodel sweeter, as his victim would; or he might choose some forgotten cavern or deserted mine where ready graves yawned to hide dead things until doom. he knew of such places, and recollected a natural chamber hard by dartmeet. here in the woods lay a deep hole that ran underground, and was known as the pixies' holt. he determined to creep thither, as old dying foxes did, that he might perish in peace.
then it was that, rising again and stumbling forward, in doubt whether his strength would last to take him to his goal, a voice reached him and malherb heard a faint cry for succour. at first he thought it but a late lamb that had lost its mother's warm side and bleated for cold. then the sound became articulate, and, forgetting his own circumstances, he listened very intently. presently he shouted with all his might, and from under the earth came instant answer.
"help me—help me! come back to me, lovey, or i shall die!"
then were the man's ears opened, and he heard his daughter's voice. she was buried alive and at hand, for he stood in hangman's hollow. now malherb forgot everything but his girl.
"'tis i, grace—your father! be of good cheer. i'm close—i'm close!"
he rushed hither and thither, bruising himself against the broken walls. then he entered the cul-de-sac, and stood, and cried out again.
"where are you now? how shall i come at you?"
"i am here beneath you, dear father! there is a great stone—part of the floor where you stand. it reaches to the left-hand wall. stamp every way, and when you stamp upon the inner edge the stone will turn slowly and show you a steep stair."
she heard him grope about and stamp as she directed. then he struck the cover and it turned, and showed him steps that sank into the darkness. slowly he let himself down, and soon stood at the bottom with a starry space of sky above and the glimmer of the moss around him.
"move gently towards me," cried grace. "a flat stone lies between us, with flint and steel and candles upon it."
the master obeyed, soon lighted a dip on lovey lee's altar, then hurried where his girl lay fast bound. malherb released her and she fainted. he chafed her blue, swollen wrists and, for the first time, thought of the dead miser without a pang.
grace slowly regained her senses, but not her courage. she clung to her father and wept and prayed him for the love of god not to loose her hand from between his own.
"save me—save me from her," she said. "let me die anywhere but here—not smothered and starved here. never let me see her and hear her voice again, or i shall go mad."
"you are safe, my little child. cry no more; tremble no more; 'tis your own father has found you."
"my own dear father! my own dear father has saved me. i called and called and counted the falling drops of water. sometimes i screamed when the ropes bit sharpest. but i called after every hundred drops had fallen. then i heard a step——"
she fainted again, and, seeking for the dropping water that she mentioned, malherb found bread and meat where john lee had placed it.
he restored his daughter's consciousness, then made her eat and drink. after she had done so he finished the remainder of the food, and marvelled at himself that his appetite was keen.
"come," he said, "now, with my hand to help, your strength will lift you out of this den for ever."
anon they reached the air.
"a century has gone over my head since dawn," he said.
the girl took deep inhalations and looked at the sky.
"to see the dear stars again! speak to me, father—speak and hold my hand. i have come to fear silence. have you forgiven—can you forgive me for all the suffering i have brought?"
he held her hand and pressed it, but did not answer.
slowly they moved away; then grace stopped.
"return, father—you must return and cover the mouth of the place, and make it fast against her. else, when she comes again herself, thinking to find me dead, and finds me vanished, she will fly and take the amphora too."
"it is there, then?"
"yes indeed! i have seen it with my own eyes. she kissed it—her hideous lips kissed it! then she hid it again."
"she will kiss it no more. she will not come back. the amphora and you—both in one moment! and i had determined to—— the irony of god! a banquet he spreads—but my teeth are gone. yesterday this would have turned me into a good man; to-day it is too late. lean on my arm, little heart. i'm strong enough to hold you up still."
they spoke again of the past, and grace told her father what he had already learned: that john lee was his brother's son. he heard the fact with indifference now.
so they passed painfully and slowly to their home, and in an hour grace was upon her mother's bosom.
with wine came strength, and the suffering of her raw wrists was quickly lessened. she sank to sleep holding annabel's hand; and when she was in easy slumber, the wife returned to her husband. he was sitting below beside a fire of peat, and he also slept heavily. she loosened his collar, and, though the touch was light as down, her hand at his throat awoke him. he leapt to his feet and cried out aloud and bade her stand back.
"i meant to ease you," she said.
then he awoke and took her in his arms.
"forgive me. i dreamed an evil dream. come, gentle nurse; i know that she sleeps, else you would not have left her. and you are heavy-eyed with much prayer and thanksgiving to god. how well i guess what's filled your heart since i brought her home! now, wife, you may rest in peace."
"come you too," she answered. "and have not you also thanked the watching god? surely i know that you have."
