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ï: [NO W FIRST rUBLISHUl).] CHILDREN OF DARK- NESS. A ROMANCE OF MINING LIFE. By J. MONK FOSTER. Author of "A Miner's Million," "Slaves of Fate,' A Pit Brow Lassie," 11 A Prophet of the Mines, "Passion's Aftermath," "The filack Mess Mystery," "Queen of the Factory," Nineteenth Century Tragedy," &c., &c. (ALL RIGHTS RES Eli VED.] CHAPTER XXXT.-A NEW SCHKMB. H g proprietress of the Park Fold Colliery, M r s J onathan Soow- croft, was a fine woman, on the right side of forty. She was a massively built lady, with large black eyes, which must have been very fine indeed when their owner was some teens of years younger and they were brilliant and handsome still, now that she was on the verge of her second score of years. Her hair was as black and as fine as her eyes; and, taken altogether, the widow was as splendid a specimen of healthy and vigo- rous womanhood as one could desire to gaze upon. Mrs. Scowcroft was much too fleshy now to have suited a lover of the aesthetic school; still, her oharms were considerable apartfrom their mere weightiness. She had a complexion still of whioh she was justly proud had a large white hand and an arm that was as soft as it was shapely; and her round ivory neck and graciously flow- ing bust were models of voluptuous beauty. Mr. Jonathan Scowcroft bad been dead some four or five years. He had married late in life—when he was midway 'twixt fifty and sixty-and his ohoice had fallen upon a woman who was just half his age. One day, old Jonathan, as he was called in Luxbury, bad paid a visit to the new cotton mill which a friend of his bad just constructed, and while passing through the weaving shed, which was then in full swing, the old man's eyes alighted on a face and figure which im- mediately attracted his attention. Beside her looms a large, lovely, and luxu- rious looking woman stood. Her olive skin was warm with the heat of her labour; the sleeve of her wincey jacket was rolled up above the elbow, displaying a large yet splendidly moulded white arm; her blue black hair was knotted behind her head in a great roll, and her flashing, dark orbs were fixed on the swiftly gliding shuttles. Before that hour old Jonathan Snoworoft had gone through the wovid-at least his little world-without even giving a second thought to any woman. He had started life very low, and had managed to creep pretty high up the social ladder. But he had managed to do this at the expense of most of the pleasures many men think necessary to their existence. He had worked hard and long, had denied himself of every pleasure which it would have oost cost money to gratify, had i iggled and schemed, screwed and saved until at 50 he had amassed a considerable sum. Then the Park Fold Colliery was put up for sale. He had bought it for an old song, as the phrase goes, for the coal trade was at its lowest ebb at that period, and by dint of great economy, which meant more screwing and pinching of the workmen, he bad con- trived to make the collieries pay him fairly well. Everybody knows that an old fool is much more foolish than a young one. Why we need not pause here to inquire or state. Suffice it to record that old Jonathan Scow- ttoft proved himself a zany, if it be foolish for an old man to marry a young and very pretty woman. The old man had stood beside the dashing and handsome weaver, Bessie Grey, much longer than he ought to have done according to the laws of Mrs. Grundy. His sunken eyes had drunk in the woman's comeliness with an avidity and a relish which made them sparkle and for the first time in all his life there had been an amorous flutter in his breast, ou the left side of his waistcoat. So hard was he hit that he could not resist speaking to the splendid looking weaver. The dullest olod can somehow find words to voice his admiration for a lovely woman and Jonathan succeeded admirably, considering that he was a novioe at the business. Before he left the weaving shed the old man had got to know his charmer'a name and address and a lot of other things, the princi- pal one being that she was as free aa himself. The handsome wench, with the deviltry of all black-eved women, had met the fellow half- way in his advances. She knew well enough who he was and what he was worth. The wooing was a short one. Jonathan had no relatives he need consult or fear to offend. He had denied himself of pleasure all his days now he resolved to deny him- self of the crowning joy of a man's life no longer. Within a month of the day when he first set eyes on Bessie Gray Scowcroft married her. He loved her very much, and he took her to share the snug fortune he had made. And never once during the remainder of his existence had Jonathan Scowcroft cause to rue the day he made the handsome mill lass his wife. If Bessie did not love him, he was never permitted to discover it. She was ever cheerful, always homely, and if she had loved the old man passionately she could not have made him more comfortable than she did, could not have been a more faithful, dutiful, and lovable helpmate. Ten years of quiet wedded happiness passed o'er them, and the mine-owner's only sorrow was that no children had resulted from the union. When he died he bequeathed the whole of his property to his relict, absolutely and free of all conditions or encumbrances. The old man's last will and testament was the measure of his love for his wife. From its birth up till his death his passion had never abated. He died loving his handsome wife. aod with her hand grasped in his of" This brief sketch may enable the reader to form some idea as to the personality of the attractive widow who owned the Park Fold Pits. During the period of excitement and hard work which followed the explosion John Hardcastle" and Mrs. Jonathan Scoworoft were frequently thrown together. The fair proprietress had sent for her manager to con- sult with him respecting a plan she had in her mind for the relief of those who had suffered through the disaster in her mines. "Hardcastle" had obeyed her command with alacrity, and the moment he set eyes on Mrs. Scoworoft he conceived the idea of cap- turing her. He had fallen before the hand- some widow's charms as easily as Jonathan Scowcroft had done nearly fifteen years before. And the manager's admiration was not totally ignoble. She had reached his heart at the first meeting as she had reached her dead husband's. Mrs. Scowcroft was his ideal of a woman; large, handsome, dashing, with the carriage of a queen, and whose striking face and figure would have arrested attention even in a crowd of fair women. Something has already been written in the earlier part of this story concerning the per- sonal appearanoe of the character who now figures as John Hardcastle." Few men bad a fairer claim to be called good-looking. Stal- wart and graceful of figure, blessed with great oomeliness of countenance, dark-eyed, black-haired, swart-skinned, with a certain taking, devil-may-care air about him, he was such a man as most women would easily learn to care for. The impression John Ilarioistle pro- duced upon the fair owner of Park Fold Col- liery was almost as deoided as that she made on him. In place of the rough-spoken, badly- dressed, and vulgar-looking pitman Mrs. Jonathan Scroworoft had expected to see, she met a most fashionably-attired man, graceful of bearing, with a certain ease and polish of speech which betokened a clever and thorough man of the world. And more than all these things there was her visitor's uncommon handsomeness and charm of manner. The charming widow had unbent in a won- derful way to John Hardcastle." They dis- cussed her scheme of charity at considerable length; the manager was entrusted with the work of selection and disbursement; and when he left the house he took away with him a cordial invitation to call again early, and report on the task he had so willingly under- taken. After that first visit to Park Fold House John flardcastle" called often. The business of distributing alms to the widows and orphans seemed a matter of no small difficulty, if one were to judge from the in- finite number of times the manager found it necessary to confer with the gracious em- ployer. And the manner in which he was received encouraged him to return. That the hand- some manager made the most of his oppor- tunities need not be recorded, and in a short space he had made a serious inroad into the lady's friendship, if not her affections. "John Hardcastlehad no doubts now as to the ultimate success of his carefully laid, and quite as oarefully worked, matrimonial scheme. Hia lightest wish in regard to any change he desired at the colliery was at once conceded, and during the few weeks he had had the management of the Park Fold Mines in his hands he bad so ingratiated himself into the proprietress's good graces that the sole control of the works, above ground as well as below, was practically in his keeping. Surely all these things justified him in be- lieving that which he so earnestly desired to believe, namely, that Mrs. Jonathan Scow- croft was learning to regard him with feelings warmer than those of mere friendliness, and that her hand would be his for the asking soon. Still, he was careful not to hazard (he ruin of his great chances by making a premature declaration of his passion. Time was with him, he knew, and much as he disliked wait- ing, he resolved to wait. The tide of his fortune was rising, and he must take it at the flood. And so the days drifted by, and the in- timacy between workman and mistress ripened gradually, surely with the rise and fall of each succeeding sun. The manager and the owner of the Park Fold mines met still when the necessity for such meetings had passed. Whenever the fair mistress of Park Fold House gave a dinner or entertainment to a party of her friends, John Hardcastle was almost certain to be present; and, occationally, when Mrs. Scow- croft paid a visit to the local theatre, her handsomely and gentlemanly workman might have been seen in her box. Of course all this did not pass unnoticed by the acquaintances of one and the other. The lady's intimate friends told one another in confidence that Mrs. Jonathan would not be a widow much longer, and that the man of her choice would be the handsome and clever fellow who superintended the working of the colliery; and the men in the know'' slyly remarked to each other, in confidence also, of course, that the new manager of Park Fold would soon be the master thereof. Whenever a whisper of such rumours reached "John Hardcastle's ears he laughed, but never a word, either in denial or confir- mation, of the story fell from his shrewd lips. And even when a nearest and dearest companion of her own sex ventured to tell Mrs. Scowcroft what people were saying about her and Mr. Hardcastle, that lady's denial was neither emphatic nor positive. The truth of the matter was simply this. The buxom relict of the late Jonathan Scow- croft had given her heart and all its affection completely, and without reserve, to Hard- oastle." She hgd learned to love him as no other man had been loved by her. Her married life had been peaceful and happy enough, but the faintest pulse of passion had never stirred her breast; and she was dream- ing now, for the first time, of what love, fierce and full, could bring into a woman's existence. As her husband had been so was she now. She had only herself to consider. She bad married once for position, ease, luxury, but not love, and she could afford now to be guided by the heart in her seleotion of a bus- band. She was ready to marry "John Hard- cAatle" whenever he spoko the word. The bird was falling easily, surely into the snarer's bands. Whenever he chose to claim the lovely and rich prize they were assuredly his. Still, great as th0 progress the manager had made in the prosecution of hi.) scheme, he was far from being easy in his mind. At first he had fait satisfied that detection was well nigh impossible, as the man he was per- sonating was dead and tombed, and the men who knew him and the deceased well were so few in number. But his sense of security bad not grown stronger as his plan prospered. With the certainty of success in one direction had come doubts and fears concerning thejnpenetra- bility of the mask he was wearing. Had it been possible, he would have swept away all the officials of the colliery who bad been thrown into contact with his predecessor, and re-placed them with entirely new men; and he would also have dismissed the two men he feared most, Reuben Ualvert and John Denton. But the dismissal of either an official or a miner meant trouble, and might have oreated suspicion. So he held his hand, and hoped ib-I the 4ingoraom men would soon tire of the place, and drift baok to their native village. He bad adopted every precaution he could think of to prevent discovery. Within a week of the explosion he obtained fresh lodgings, thinking that this landlady, who had known both John Hardoastles, might be able to distinguish between the two; he had avoided the places of resort the dead man had frequented, and bad tried to meet his subor- dinates only in the semi-darkness of hhe mines. And yet, despite all these safeguards, he was restless, suspicious, fearful of what might happen. Not because there was really any ground for fear, but because the moment of triumph was fast approaching, and the terror of losing what was almost won filled his breast with the fears a knave must ever endure. CHAPTER XXXII.—Susi'icion's DAWN. A month bad slipped away since that stir- ring day when the explosion at Park Fold Colliery bad taken place, and matters were going on very much the same as before the disaster. The accident had turned out to be less des- tructive than was anticipated all the places in the unlucky seam were at work again, and, save that a few old faces were missing from their places, a few bread-winners were sleep- ing their last deep sleep in the cemetery, a few women were husbandless and a few children had lost their fathers and brothers, all traces of the catastrophe had vanished. Heuben Calvert and John Denton had re- covered from their hurts, and were once more engaged in labour. Neither was hewing coal at present. The under-mansger, Fred Lomax, had given them a bit of contract work," as a solatium for the suffering and loss the explosion had necessarily entailed upon them. And as contracting was easier and more remunerative than getting coal, the miners had accepted the change with gratefulness. They were now employed, with two or three assistants, in repairing the airways which had been damaged by the disaster. When they had concluded this work Lomax had promised to let them drive the tunnel which the dead man, Dick Orrell," had been engaged upon prior to bis death; and to this proposition they had also assented. Since he had received that letter from Mary, in which she bade him wait and hope, Reuben bad not placed himself in direct communication with her. Her evident desire had been accepted by him without question- ing, if not without some disappointment, and he was waiting and hoping still. When a few months had passed away he would ask her once more, and he felt assured now that he would not again be denied. In the meantime he went to work with a will to prepare for the future, and the added respon- sibilities and happiness it promised to bring. In reply to Mary's letter Reuben had just written a line. "I will wait and hope, dear Mary," was all he said. But, if he had not corresponded with his old sweetheart, be was fully aware of how she was fa- ing. He had communicated with his old land- lady at Kingsmoss; had instructed her to let him know how matters ran and he bad learnt from this source that Mary had received from Mrs. Scowcroft a sum of twenty pounds as compensation for her hus- band's death, a like aum having been awarded to the wives of the other unfortunate pit- men. Thus affairs stood with the various charac- ters of this narrative, when one evening, a short time before Christmas, Reuben Calvert and his oo-wor-ker, John Denton, strolled through the town together. The night was mild as a morn in spring, and the miners were out for a quiet walk and talk, as had been tbeir custom of late. It may be added that John Denton was now located in comfortable lodgings, not far from where Reuben lived; and he was better in his body and easier in his mind than he bad been for years. As they parsed through the leading tho- roughfare a tall, well-dressed form passing on the other side of the street caught their eyes. It was their manager, "John Hard- I castle." "Do you know, Ueuben," John Denton remarked in his earnest way as thev pa sed on, that I have been thinking a good deal lately about John Hardcastle ana Diok Orrell ? I In what way ? The great likeness they bore.to one another F Reuben queried in a tone of indifference. Yes, in that way and another, too. Do you know—I daresay yau will laugh at my fancy—that I caaaot get it t of my mind that our manager, John Hardcastle, is, in reality, no one else but Dick Orrell ? Nonsciase, John Calvert cried. But while his voice bespoke bit incredulouaness, his face grew serious as a train of thought suggested by Denton's remark flashed through his mind. "I knew you would say that," Denton re- plied quietly, but all the same, Reuben, I cannot help believing it." I "But why?" Calvert demanded. "It seems so unlikely a thing." It is unlikely enough on the face of it. I know," said John, and I have tried to argue myself out of the belief. But I can't. It is a matter of instinct, Heuben, with me, rather than one of knowledge. You know that I always disliked Dick Orrell." Not more than I did," the other broke in "You had mo e cause, perhaps. Well, you know how you have felt sometimes when Orrell came near you." 11 Yes; J. felt uncomfortable—a sense of bitterness and pain filled me, and I always longed to get away from him." That is how I felt in Dick Orrell'a pre- sence and I feel the same now whenever I am near or see the manager, John Hard- castle. But I never felt like that before the explosion in the manager's company." "It is strange, certainly, John; but the fact of the two men being the very spit of one another may account for it. I remember when I first saw Hardcastle I could have sworn it was Orrell, and when I saw Dick afterwards I was almost made to believe that he was the manager." The instinct is o ten n true guide when our knowledge is at fault," replied Jobn Denton, simply. "That is so; but instinct proves nothing. John, you must be mistaken. The whole thing seems impossible to me." Why impossible. The two men went into the workings alone, after the explosion they were by themselves for over an hour. And if it was the manager who got choked by the after-damp, what was to stop Orrell from passing himself off as John Hardcastle, Reuben ?" "Nothing if it happened. But we've no reason to suppose that it did. It's nonsense to talk about it. You have got the idea in your head, and, thinking about it continually, have made yourself beiieve in the thing." Reuben spoke warmly, as he felt at that moment. The mère suggestion that Dick Orrell was still alive had filled him with vague alarms. In such a contingency he and Mary would be sundered for ever. But I have some reason to suppose that it is Orrell I': John resumed, firmly. What are your reasous ?" The lamp which was found aflerwards in the after-damp, which ohoked the man who was said to be Dick Orrell, belonged to the manager, John Hardoastle. How do you explain that ? If it was Dick Orrell who plunged into the gas, how was it that the 1 other man's lamp was found?" That question staggered Reuben Calverf, and for a moment he felt inclined to believe as his friend did. Then he said "Perhaps Hardcastle and Orrell had changed lamps ?" "Perhaps, but is it likely? You know, Ueuben, as a practical miner, that the likeli- hood is all the other way." But the lamp, like yoar instinct, proves nothing, John." It may seem a little thing, but a clever detective would not overlook such a clue. I have come to think that it may prove the first link in the chain of evidence which will expose the man who pretends to be John Hardcastie. But if your evidence goes no further than this matter about the lamp, and your belief, there is no use of bothering any more about the affair," said Ca!vert, pettishly. "I can understand how you look at it, Reuben," John replied with some feeling. You have just cause for wishing Dick Orrell dead. But you would not marry Mary if you were not absolutely satisfied that her husband was dead ?" "Of course not." Then your duty is plain. You must prove beyond doubt that John 11 ardcastle is not Dick Orrell." It may take years to do that, assuming that you are right, and—John, I cannot promise to wait so long for Mary." If you marry her before, you mar live to repent it!" Denton exclaimed earnestly. You would not like to dishonour her, I know— would not like her to be guilty of bigamy." You speak as if you were quite sure that John Hardoastle is Dick Orrell." "Iam sure I haven't told you all yet." What else have you to tell ?" Haven't you noticed how the manager avoids us ? To-night even, he orossed the street rather than meet us. I've watched him closely. Do you know what happened when I went to see him after the explosion." "No. What did happen r" "I said to him, in a joking way, 'I always take you to be Dick Orrell, Mr. Hard castle." I was in earnest, though, and watching like a ferret watches a rat. You should have seen him at that moment. He stood stock still, his face went the colour of death, and bis guilt was as clear to me then as if I could read his heart." What did he do or say ?" He was himself in a second, and was laughing at my remark." The two friends bad now reached a quiet lane on the outskirts of the town. About them were black, sodden fields, ragged hedge- rows, leafless trees; above in the dark heavens the quiet stars shone clearly. As they paused, turned, and slowiy retraced their steps, Keuben said You have almost convinced me, John, that you are right. But how are we to find out the truth ? It will be no easy thing now." You know or knew Orrell very well. Had be any mark about him which would dis- tinguish him from other men r" None that I remember." I Mary might know of something." II But we must never speak to her of this. We must work ourselves." "Dick has been in gaol twice. The polioa would notice the slightest mark—the least peculiarity about him. I will get the full particulars somehow or other," Denton cried in bis earnest, resolute way. Even then we shall only be at the begin- ning of the work. We go to the manager and say, 'We believe you to be Dick Orrell. lie had such a mark on him. Show us that you have no such mark, and we are satisfied that we have made a mistake. "If we find out anything singular about Dick Orrell, we'll find means to put the manager to the test, never fear." You will undertake the work of seeing the police authorities P" "I will, Reuben." (To be continued.)