“I didn’t spend hundreds on your education to have you take to a pit life,” growled Mr Hexton.
“Oh, my boy, it is such a dangerous life. The hours of misery we pass no one knows,” cried Mrs Hexton, wringing her hands.
“Mother,” said the young man, “it is to endeavour to save mothers and wives and children from suffering all these pains; for I would strive to make our mines so safe that the men could win the coal almost without risk. And as for education, father,” he said proudly, as he turned to the stern, grey, disappointed man, “is it not by knowledge that we are able to battle with ignorance and prejudice? Don’t regret what you have given me, father.”
“But it seems all thrown away if you are going to be nothing better than overseer of a mine.”
“Oh, no,” said the young man smiling, “it will give me the means for better understanding the task I have in hand; and if, mother, I can only save four or five families from the terrible sufferings we know of, I shall not have worked all in vain.”
“No, my boy, no,” said Mrs Hexton mournfully.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “knowing what I have of pit life, it has made me wretched scores of times to read some terrible account of the long roll of unfortunates burned, suffocated, or entombed, to die in agonies of starvation and dread. Don’t be disappointed, father, but let me make my effort, and work with you.”
The elder seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then held out his hand.
“No, Phil,” he said, “I won’t stand in your way. I’m disappointed because I wanted you to be something better, but—”
“Better, father! Could you find a better man than Davy, whom we bless for his lamp?”