"You really are the most extraordinary fellow I ever met with," rejoined Vernon, "striving, as you ever do, to cook up good of some kind or other out of the most evil materials; and every misfortune, by some wonderful philosophy hatched up by your ingenious brain, you pretend to convert into a benefit. Why, old fellow, Mansel of Trinity actually told me—mind I've only his word for it, perhaps not the best authority in the world either—but he positively assured me, that you tried to convince him that your being taken ill on the third day of your examination, which was thus cut short in the middle, and which caused you to rank far lower than you otherwise would have done amongst the wranglers, was the most fortunate event that possibly could have happened to you."
"And that is my firm conviction still," said Frank, with the utmost coolness.
"What!" exclaimed Vernon in amazement, "you surely cannot be in earnest in what you say?"
"Indeed I am," resumed Frank; "for, had I taken higher honours my dear old governor would never have rested satisfied unless I had devoted myself either to study of the law or politics, both of which I hate, instead of permitting me, at some future time, to become a quiet country parson.—But what extraordinary light is that?" he exclaimed, on perceiving a narrow stream of fire, apparently at no great distance, shoot up above the brow of a low hill just before them?"
"A singular kind of meteor, certainly," observed the poet. "I never saw one like it before."
"Very like a sky-rocket; wasn't it?" observed Frank; "and a sky-rocket I've no doubt it was; and as this happens to be the night of the 5th of November, I dare say it proceeds from the very village to which we are bound—an important place too, it should seem, from sporting sky-rockets. Ah! there goes another. Huzza! we shall soon be amongst them.—Oh! merciful Heaven!" he exclaimed, as his companion suddenly vanished from his sight, having stepped inadvertently into the mouth of one of those dangerous shafts we have before alluded to. A heavy sound denoted the fearful depth to which he had been precipitated, which was shortly followed by a loud, hollow crash, caused by a fall of some fragments of detached earth, which, from the great depth it had to descend, occupied several seconds ere it reached the bottom of this deep abyss.
Chapter III.
Frank Trevelyan, almost petrified with horror at the dreadful catastrophe, which there was just then sufficient light to enable him to discern the nature of, remained for some moments riveted to the spot from whence he had witnessed its occurrence; but soon partially recovering his bewildered faculties, he fell upon his hands and knees, and approaching the mouth of the shaft, called out, in a tone of agonizing anxiety to his companion, but with scarcely a hope of being responded to, when a faint voice, though from an awful depth, assured him he was yet alive; but, it was to be feared, dreadfully injured; and, in plain truth, he was in a situation of even greater danger than his fellow-traveller was then aware of. Poor Vernon Wycherley had fallen upwards of sixty feet perpendicularly, and had alighted on a projection of the ground, occasioned by a drift that had been made in the workings, which alone prevented him from being hurled to the bottom of the pit, which was of vast depth, though partially filled with water. As it was, his situation was so perilous, that it seemed only to add to the agony of impending death, with a very remote prospect of deliverance. Every thing depended upon his being able to secure himself upon the point of ground where he then rested; and this being loosened by the force with which he had fallen upon it, was gradually crumbling from beneath him, every particle of which, as it gave way, splashing in the water at the bottom of the shaft produced a deafening crash, which sound rendered him fearfully conscious of the probability of the whole mass, upon which his sole chance for safety depended, sinking under him, before the necessary assistance could arrive. This it soon did to such a degree, that, in spite of all his efforts, he gradually sank lower and lower, until, unable longer to retain a footing, his legs were overhanging the awful gulf, and he was rapidly sliding off, when, by a desperate effort, he threw up his feet, so that they reached the opposite side of the shaft, whilst his body still remained on the projecting drift, against which he firmly planted his back, and with his feet on the opposite side, he was thus enabled to gain a stationary position; yet, even then, the soil continually crumbling away, rendered it doubtful how long he might be able to retain it.
Frank Trevelyan was, however, as we before mentioned, unaware of the full extent of his friend's peril, and only dreading the effects of what had already occurred, he no sooner heard the welcome sound of his voice, than, bidding him keep up a good heart, for that he plainly heard the voices of a number of persons at no great distance, from some of whom he should be able to procure all the aid he required. Having so said, he started off at speed towards the spot from whence he could still hear the humming noise of many voices, indicating an assemblage of a large company of persons no great way off—and so towards this spot he ran at a rapid pace, regardless of the risk he incurred in thus racing along, as it were blindfold, in so dangerous a locality. But the fact is, a thought of his own personal safety never once entered his head: Vernon's accident, and its probable consequences, engrossed his every thought. Another rocket served to show him he was taking the right direction; and at so rapid a pace did he proceed, that the enlivening sounds of voices became more and more distinct, when, topping the brow of the hill, a blue light, most opportunely lighted up, disclosed to him at a very short distance on the opposite side of the valley, a substantial gentleman's house, in front of which a motley and mixed medley of some couple of hundred people or more—some of them gentlemen, but the majority consisting of miners and agricultural labourers—were assembled, either as actors, assistants, or lookers-on, at a display of various kinds of fire-works that was then going forward.
A sight so welcome to our little hero's hopes imparted fresh vigour to his limbs; and he darted down the steep declivity at the imminent danger of his neck, but happily reached the bottom in safety, just as the light which had aided him in his descent expired, which then made every thing appear even darker than before. Consequently, Frank, not espying the brook that intervened betwixt himself and the object he was striving to reach, tumbled over head and ears into one of its deepest pools; but being a swimmer, and the stream but narrow though the pool was deep, he soon attained the summit of the opposite bank; when a hedge, almost close at hand, alone seemed to separate him from the people whose assistance he was so anxious to secure. The hedge was easily clambered over, though an impediment he had not anticipated awaited him on the other side, in the form of a small fishpond, into which he bundled, and so got a second ducking. But as this pond, or rather that portion of it into which he had fallen, was not deep, he soon splashed across it, to the amazement of the assembled party who witnessed the feat, which a fresh blue-light, just then ignited, afforded them ample means of doing—the heavy souse he had made in tumbling in, and the splutter he made in floundering out again, having already attracted their attention to the spot—which, as he seemed to have selected the very widest part of the whole pool, was the very last of all others any one could have suspected an entry to have been made on the premises.