Читать книгу A Pit-brow Lassie - John Monk Foster - Страница 5

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It was Wednesday afternoon when Luke Standish first saw Kate Leigh, and the week had hardly spent itself before a great change took place in certain opinions once held by the miner. It had been a settled thing in Luke's mind that his marriage was never to be thought of until he had passed his thirtieth year, and now it appeared to him that his marrying early or late would depend very much upon a certain pit-brow lassie.

Again he had formerly decided that when he did wed it would be no poor man's daughter; he had resolved to woo and win some woman who would be able to forward his ambitions by means of monetary aid or social influence; now he began to think there were women—no, only one woman—in his own sphere of life that he might do honor to himself by winning.

In plain English Luke Standish loved Kate Leigh; was ardently desirous of making known his love to her. He had even resolved to tell her of his affection, when the right time came; and finally, was willing to marry her whenever she cared to say "Yes!"

All his affection, resolves, and desires were as yet known only to Luke Standish's self, for Kate Leigh never dreamt that she had inspired him with a devoted love for herself; nay, she had never given him a thought that way, nor had they exchanged a word together, although each of them had become familiar with the other's face.

On the afternoon following the memorable one on which he first met Kate Leigh, Luke again hung about the pit bank for some minutes, devouring the sweet-faced pit lassie with his admiring eyes, glancing at her with amusing stealthiness, for he was fearful that she or others might discover the great love that had sprung so suddenly in his heart.

Without suspecting the truth Kate had noticed the big pitman more than he imagined. Involuntarily she had felt a sort of dispassionate admiration for the young giant whose face seemed so open and pleasant, and for whom everyone about the collieries seemed to have a good word to say.

So things went on for nearly a fortnight. Luke had not yet spoken to the object of his silent adoration, but he had made many cautious inquiries regarding Kate Leigh, and had learned something about her.

Kate lived, it appeared, with her mother in a small cottage in the town; they had been in Ashford about two or three weeks, having come thither from Pendleton. The mother and daughter lived alone, and the latter had commenced to attend the Ashford Wesleyan Sunday school.

Luke Standish had contrived to glean these items of information concerning his beloved one with little trouble from Kate Leigh's workmates, and without betraying the secret that he cherished in his inmost soul.

A stranger in the world of love, the young miner had yet to learn that a bold lover might carry the citadel of a women's heart at the first vigorous assault, whilst a timid wooer might wear away his life in peaceful attempts to effect a capitulation.

The veriest tyro in affairs of the heart was Luke. He had never even flirted with any one of the many pretty girls Ashford contained, although more than one fair maiden had given him ample encouragement to woo her. But the fact was that prior to Kate Leigh's appearance on the scene, the miner's fancy had never "turned to thoughts of love."

He had even been accustomed to smile to himself a trifle contemptuously when witnessing other young fellows being dragged about at the end of a girl's apron-strings, and apparently enjoying what he was forced to consider their enslavement.

Well, his own time had come now, and he was in greater thrall than any he knew of, and withal so timid a slave of love that he feared to make declaration of his deep adoration and dearest wishes.

Thus matters stood when an accident—unfortunate if viewed shallowly, happy if looked at from the highest standpoint—threw the handsome pit-brow girl and her admirer together.

One afternoon, when Luke came up the pit as usual he missed the familiar form and face from its accustomed place beside the weighing-machine. There was a lad in Kate's place shouting out the numbers, and she was nowhere about.

Before going to the lamp-office with his lamp Lake went to the new "number shouter," and asked him in an under-tone—

"Isn't Kate workin' to-day?"

"Oh, yah!" the lad answered. "Hoo's workin' in t' screens theer. Sal Jackson hasn't come to-day, so Kate's in her place."

Feeling rather annoyed by what he had heard, Luke left the brow to go with his lamp to the office. Kate working in the screens was an unpleasant thought to turn over in his mind. Laboring there he knew she would be as black as as African, and it pained him somehow to think of her sweet face covered thickly with the blackest of coal dust.

Returning from the lamp-office homeward Luke did not cross the pit brow as was his custom, but went down the waggon road so as to pass the bottom of the screens, hoping to get a glimpse of Kate and his anticipation was gratified.

She was standing at the bottom of a screen grimy as he had expected to find her, but still clearly distinguishable to his keen eyes. Some full waggons had just been taken away and the lip of the screen had been drawn up to prevent the down-rush of coal until the empty waggon came under.

Kate stood on the very edge of the sloping foot-board running up the side of the screen, poised over the waggon road, her hands grasping the light iron rake which she used to pull the coal into the waggons, and her glance was fixed on the empty waggons, which were already running toward the shoot.

Suddenly a sharp scream broke from Kate Leigh's lips, and it was followed quickly by a man's hoarse shout of agonised terror. Turning carelessly on the screen's edge, the girl's foot twisted on a piece of coal, and the next moment she had fallen in the waggon road, right across the rail in front of the approaching waggons.

Luke Standish was only a few yards away when she fell, and for a moment he seemed paralysed with the danger that threatened her. Then he dashed madly forward, a fearful cry welling from his throat, and, heedless of all danger to himself, seized Kate, who seemed stunned by the fall, and placed her out of harm's reach.

The next moment he was lying under the nearest waggon wheel. The buffer of the first waggon had knocked him down ere he could jump aside, and he fell across the rail, where the wheel pinned him, his thigh acting as "a scotch" to the waggon.

Crushed, confused, and helpless, he lay there wondering if his end had come, and thankful that Kate was saved. The next moment he was dimly conscious of a dear, grimy face bending over him—a face that it thrilled him to see in its deep, unspeakable piteousness.

Then he fainted.

The accident had been witnessed by many beside the two who had participated in it, and willing hands soon hurried to Luke Standish's aid. In a few moments the empty waggons were pushed back and the injured man lifted from the ground.

Just as the men were asking each other how Luke was to be conveyed home Mr. Latham, the general manager, hurried up to the spot. Having learned what was the matter and how the affair had occurred, he was about to order the men to carry Luke to the chief office, which was close by, when the miner recovered consciousness.

Glancing around confusedly Luke was about to attempt to rise, but his left leg hung stiff and powerless, precluding any movement on his part.

"Do not try to get up, Standish," said Mr. Latham, "if it pains you; there is a cab at the office and you shall go home in it. Go and bring the cab here," he said to one of the men standing by.

So the young pitman was taken home, and thither a doctor at once attended him. The injured leg was not broken; only badly crushed; and in a few weeks he would be all right again. So Dr. Gregory averred, and his cheery diagnosis of the case fell gratefully upon his patient's ears.

Two hours or thereabouts after the accident, when the crushed leg had been dressed and Luke lay in bed suffering keenly, for the crushed flesh and sinews were losing their numbness then, he did not regret the purchasing of Kate Leigh's safety at such an expense of pain to himself. So great was his love for her, and so unselfish, that the thought uppermost in his mind now was—

"Did Kate Leigh hurt herself by the fall?"

He was soon to have a satisfactory answer from her own lips on this point. Shortly before seven of the clock that evening a couple of visitors called to see Luke. These were none other than Kate Leigh and her mother, and of course the young fellow was glad to see them.

Mrs. Leigh was a pleasant-looking woman of fifty, better spoken than the usual run of women of her class, and it was still easy to see from whom her daughter inherited her good looks. Mrs. Standish was an amiable creature, if a somewhat plain one, and the two mothers soon became very friendly.

It was the first time that Luke had seen Kate in the ordinary garb of womankind, and his first impression of her appearance was altogether favorable. She had a quiet tastefulness in dress that surprised as well as pleased him. Nor was this the only pleasurable surprise in store for him.

Kate Leigh had but little to say to the man who had rescued her from danger at such peril and injury to himself. But what she did say was well spoken, in a manner altogether different from what he had expected.

She thanked him warmly enough, but in the fewest possible words, and the language she used was better English than any he had ever before heard from a pit-brow lassie's lips. Amongst the other pit girls he had heard her speak the dialect common to their class, but with her working garments she had put aside the rude speech also.

This puzzled Luke considerably, and he tried to account for her manifest superiority to all others of her vocation that had come his way. In this, however, he was not successful, not having a sufficient knowledge of her history to enable him to formulate any probable theory. Some day, when he and Kate become more intimate, she might supply him with the key to the problem.

The mothers chatted interminably, whilst Luke and Kate found it difficult to unearth matters for conversation. The visitors stayed until dusk, and on bidding good-night to Luke, Kate offered her hand to him. He seized it, pressed it warmly, and fancied he felt a slight answering pressure.

Then they went away, promising to come again the following evening, and the miner was left to chew the cud of another surprise. The hand Kate had given him to press in his great hard fingers was brown and hard, true enough, still it was small, well-shaped, and cleanly as a lady's might have been.

According to promise, Kate and her mother came again to the cottage of the Standish's next evening, and after a while the young people were left together for a few minutes.

"Do you know, Kate," Luke said presently, following her initiative and putting aside his work-a-day speech, "that your face seemed familiar to me the very first time I saw you?"

"Indeed, then I must resemble someone you know," she replied.

"No, it was because I happened to have your likeness," he answered smilingly.

"That cannot be," she said, smiling also, "for I have never had my portrait taken."

"Then who's likeness is this?"

As he spoke he took up the old copy of Cassell's Family Magazine containing the engraving by Haynes Williams, and pointing out the elder of the carol singers, awaited Kate's reply.

"Am I like her?" she asked, examining the print with critical glance.

"Very much. Don't you think so yourself?" he demanded, and their eyes met for a moment.

"A little—perhaps," she was forced to admit, dropping her eyes before his.

"Not a little," he persisted. "It is your very self. There is your hair and eyes, your month, nose—everything to the very expression of the whole face. I have often wondered," he went on, "whether the artist drew this woman from imagination or from real life. In the latter case there is another Kate Leigh somewhere."

"I fear that the original of this would not be pleased to have her likeness mistaken for that of a pit-brow woman," she responded with a pleasant laugh.

"Why not?" he asked.

To this she made no reply, but commenced to turn the leaves of the magazine.

"You are a reader, I can see," Luke said after some moments of silence.

"A bit of one!"

"What do you take?"

"The London Journal and Bow Bells, and you?"

"I borrow from the Free Library here."

"I daresay you don't read novels?"

"Sometimes I do. I have just finished one of Miss Braddon's—'To the Bitter End.'"

"Is it nice?"

"Very," he replied. "Would you like to read it?"

"Yes, if you will lend it me."

"Then I'll tell mother to give it you before you go."

When the Leigh's departed Luke Standish lay back on his pillows feeling strangely happy. He felt that Fate was very kind to him in thus throwing Kate in his way. His accident would prove an angel in disguise if it enabled him to win the love of this handsome pit-brow lassie.