IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 Ui |Z8 1 2.5 lAo mil 2.0 1.4 1.8 1.6 V] Va m >> 4^W <35 y /^ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical Notes / Notes techniques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Physical features of this copy which may alter any of the images in the reproduction are checked below. L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. 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Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition at de la netteti de I'exemplaire film6, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol -^-(meaning CONTINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur la der- nidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols — ^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols V signifie "FIN". The original copy was borrowed from, and filmed with, the kind consent of the following institution: National Library of Canada L'exemplaire filmi fut reproduit grAce i la g6n6rosit6 de i'dtablissement prdteur suivant : BibliothAque nationale du Canada Maps or plates too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the methoJ: Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul clich6 sont filmdes d partir de Tangle sup6rieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images n^cessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 9mmm rttti ^K^. ps^ THE UNKNOWN. BY BIRGER BECH. NEW FORT, TORONTO. AUTHOR OF "FIVE YEARS IN A SAILOR'S LIFBJ' % fe . ( THB QUEEN CITY PUBLISHING COMPANY, 1887. \ '•" '■''jkiwmmmiT'wtm^'^-- ■ ^^^ •^ Z2 ^ «» o*- THE UNKNOWN. BY BIRGER BECH, NEW FORT, TORONTO. • > AUTHOR OF ''FIVE YEARS IN A SAILOR'S LIFE." THE QUEEN CITY PUBLISHING COMPANY. 1887. mmimMm £ 21S Ub ■AlBllaMlMMHMia PREFACE. Half bashful and half afraid, I sent my first little message, " Five Years in a Sailor's Life," out in the cold, unknown world. It went out with a "God speed," and a trembling, untried little thing it was. But people were kind towards it ; it flew far and near, and was praised where ere it went. The good news reached me, and my heart was filled with gladness. Encouraged by the good result : encouraged by the many kind people I have learned to know, especially here in Toronto, I send out my second book, " The Unknown." During my stay in Germany some years ago, I gathered certain facts which I now have tried to make use of, and although the principal names are altered, the main points are real, and it is my hope that my kind readers will like this book as well as my first. BIRGER BECH. Toronto, Dec. ist, 1887. S, ■■ •; fiilii. ♦,» i: • ,:i^i ■i: ■-! "y- ■ • t . .■,.,. I .■. .^.• » ■■• ■■■■*': ,'^",: ;;niiHTyj:ni CONTENTS. 26 28 , PAGE. CHAPTER. I.„At thk Railway Station - - - - 3 II.-The Stranger's Arrival at the "Brown Bear" 13 III.— Returned from the Marrkt - - - ^7 IV.— A Cruel Scheme - v.— The Baffled Assassin ' ' ' ' ' ^^ VI.— Planning an Excursion- ' ■ ' VII.— Lost in the xMines - VIII.— The Miner in Pursuit - - - . ■ 33 IX.— Saved by The Unknown - - - - 4° X.-MISS Agnes at the Gravedigger's Home - 48 XL— Once more at Landesruhe - - - 5^ XII.— The Murder of Edward Volken - - 53 XIII.— The Death of Bauon Volken - . 60 XIV.— Agnes in Italy - ' : • * " 5 XV.— Senor Pueblo's Visit ' - - " 7© XVI. Visiting the Crater - - - - "73 XVII. -Agnes Receives Her Brother's Watch 80 XVIII. -The Unknown Stood Before Her - ■ 81 XIX.— Agnes Held Him Tight and Lovingly - 84 XX.— Senor Pueblo made a Prisoner - - -90 XXL— On Their Way to Canada - - \ ^^ kk ■'*;v4' iiii iii<«ii[iiii«ii«Mana<*ti—iMBit* I THE UNKNOWN. CHAPTER I. AT THE RAILWAY STATION. '^-^ N the platform of a little railway station in the German Province, Saxony, a mixed crowd of people were eagerly waiting the coming of the six o'clock train. It was the night before Christmas, and everyone expected the arrival of somebody or something from the nearest city. Business men, stu- dents and schoolboys were on their way home to enjoy a few days in a happy family circle ; large parcels with Christmas presents and delicious fruits, sent from loving hearts and packed with tender care, were now swiftly borne to their destination by the coming train. The weather was cold and would have been even more so were it not for the great calm, which, combined with the settling dusk and slowly falling snow-flakes, made the fur -clad crowd feel warm and comfortable. Close to the door leading from the waiting room out on the platform, a number of farmers and small THE UNKNOWN. tradesmen were gathered, some loudly discussing political affairs and others eagerly listening to the different opinions. As a slight noise came from within, a stout old farmer turned round and said in a whisper : " Make room, boys ; the Baron and his family are coming." The people now formed a line on each side of the door and respectfully lifted their heavy caps as a tall, elderly gentleman, followed by two ladies, stepped out. Nodding to both sides, he said in a clear and pleasant voice : " Good evening to all," while a hearty "Good evening, and God bless you," came from every one^ present. ' Baron Volken was as rich as he was beloved by every one who knew him. He owned a large estate, inherited from father to son through many generations, and claimed relationship to the nobles of the land ; but his pride and joy seemed centred in his beautiful daughter who' now, with her arm resting on that of her mother's, walked up and down the clean-swept platform. And well he might be proud of her ; Miss Agnes would win anyone at first sight. Her figure — now hid in a black fur coat, closely buttoned up to the finely shaped chin — was perfect, at once commanding and graceful. " She would ' by most people be con- sidered over medium size ; her complexion was fajr ; her eyes, a deep blue and sparkling with mirth, yet THE UNKNOWN. 9 deep feeling, combined with a true womanly heart, shone out from under the long soft lashes. They were eyes " once seen, never forgotten." The long abun- dant tresses of light brown hair flowed loose over her shoulders. Her voice sounded rich and sweet as she looked up in her mother's face and said : " Oh ma ! I do so wish Edward would come, as he promised to ; it seems so long since he was home last, and what a delightful Christmas we shall have if he keeps his word this time." ■ , , This Edward, whom they had come to receive, was the only son of Baron Volken and now going through a course in the University of Berlin ; but young and gay by nature, he often preferred spending his holidays with his friends in the surrounding country, his father giving him his own way in this a^ in everything else. Edward had reached the age of twenty, but was re- markably well developed, tall and strongly built, rather handsome and very winning. . " Ten minutes past six ; the train is late," said the Baron, as he impatiently thrust his time-keeper back in its place. Just then a whistle, accompanied by a hissing noise, was heard. " At last" exclaimed a blue- nosed porter, with a relieved sigh as the train, puffing and snorting, came around the bend. Soon everything was in a bustle ; hugging, kissing, tttmm lO THE UNKNOWN. handshaking, unloading and loading of trunks and boxes, people running to and fro seeking one an- other made the usually quiet place a perfect Babel. Like bees, cab and expressmen swarmed around the new arrivals, offering to drive them for seventy-five cents an hour. Loud and shrill came the cry. " Learlinur Zeitung — Nervjervjhan," from the ragged, shivering little newsboys, as they pushed their way through the crowd. .* .. In the meantime the Baron and his wife had been looking all over for the expected young man, while Miss Agnes had gone to the other end of the platform, where a group of passengers had just stepped from a first-class car. Among them was a tall young man in a long overcoat, with the cape thrown over the broad shoulders. He stood- with his ba'^k turned towards her, and in the dim light from the nearest lamp, his whole figure so closely resembled that of her brother, that she in her eagerness thought it to be him. With the glad cry : " Oh Edward, I am so happy!" she flew towards him, threw both arms round his neck, and would in the next instant have pressed the rose-red lips of the already half upturned little mouth on those of his, when she, blushing crimson, hastily drew back, stammering : " I beg your pardon ; I thought — I mis- took you for — " THE VHxiVOyfV. if The man turned sharply round and the light fell ful) on a face remarkably handsome and expressive ; a dark moustache, square chin and forehead, under which a pair of coal-black eyes, now half admiringly, half amused, and still with a touch of sadness, looked full in hers. It was a face which at the same instant seemed to be impressed on her very soul, never to be removed. The excitement over, the mistake made her almost speechless. In a moment the stranger took in the true state of affairs, and politely taking off his hat, said, in a deep, manly voice. '* Yes, it was a mis- take, but now I wish it had not been." Agnes looked round for her parents, and when again she turned, the stranger had disappeared. r . • f v. • ' " Agnes, where have you been, child ? You look quite excited ! " said her mother, a moment later. But Agnes gave some trifling excuse, for she felt ashamed to tell of what had occurred. "Ah! here comes the boy at last," exclaimed the Baron. Yes, it was Edward, who had been delayed look- ing after his baggage. Now he joined them, but the reception Agnes gave him was perhaps a little colder than it would have been had he come a few minutes before her little accident. Why it was so she could not tell — may be she never noticed it herself mmk IMIM u THE UNKNOWN. Should anyone have taken a peep into the cosy bed-room occupied by Miss Agnes, that night, they would have found her wide awake, with the beautiful eyes thoughtfully fixed on the ceiling, as if her mind was far away. A blush and a happy smile swept every now and then over her lovely face ; but not be- fore the first stream of daylight stole in between the heavy winter curtains did sleep carry her into the fairyland, where dreams make us forget life's sorrows and pains. What she there saw or did we do not know, but the smiling lips and heaving bosom betrayed it to be something pleasant. Only once the peaceful rest was disturbed by a sudden start, while she softly muttered : " But who could he have been, ha? " ■i f. I .; *^^fl •:>Si.. THE UNKNOWN. 1 3 .\« ^ ' CHAPTER II. ^ THE stranger's ARRIVAL AT " THE BROWN BEAR." Then the stranger, with whom Agnes had so innocently came in contact, left the station, he walked several miles into the country, until he at last, late in the evening, arrived at an old country inn. Here, over the door, swayed by the wind, squeaking and jerking on rusty hinges, hung a sign- board on which "The Brown Bear" was printed in large black letters on white underground, with the picture of a foaming glass of beer on each side. A faint glimmer of light came through one of the windows, which showed that the otherwise so dark and gloomy looking build- ing was occupied, wherefore the stranger knocked at the door. On receiving no answer he grew impatient and turning round, the heavy oaken door suffered from two thundering kicks of his heels. The noise seemed at last to have attracted somebody's attention. Slow draggling steps came from within, then a bolt was withdrawn and the door opened. " What is it ? " growled a gruff whisky-voice, while a sputtering candle-light fell on a thick-set old man 14 THE UNKNOWN. with a large bloated grape-nose, small eyes hidden under bushy gray eyebrows, and an ugly mouth, now nervous by twisting and turning a big chew of tobacco. His garments were rather ** negligee," and told that he had just come out of bed. A pair of woolen pant> aloons, rather the worse for wear, a shirt without elbows, and a red woolen night-cap sitting on one side of the head, completed his nightly costume. , ** Give me a room and the best you have got," said the stranger, as he entered and threw down a gold piece. , A perfect transformation now underwent the drowsy landlord, for he it was who had opened the door. The sight of the gold piece, which he eagerly stooped to pick up, made the small eyes glisten. With an awk- ward bow he disappeared. Soon the whole household was awake, and half an hour later the nightly visitor had made himself as comfortable as circumstances would let him, in a tolerably well furnished room on the second floor. He sat in an old arm-chair, drawn close to the open fire-place ; a cigar lighted and a glass of wine poured out, and he was left to his own thoughts. But not long did he remain in this position. With an impatient gesture he threw the cigar in the fire and commenced pacing the floor. One arm rested behind him, while the aristocratic white hand of the THE UNKNOWN. 15 other every now and thin ploughed through the thick black hair. Deep sighs and passionate outcrys broke frequently from the tightly pressed lips. Suddenly he stopped in front of a large map hanging on the wall, then in a despairing, sorrowful tone he spoke : "Poland ! Poland ! what have you done that tyrants trample you to the dust. Where is your former grandeur.** Torn and bleeding like a hunted stag have you fallen before the merciless foe. Ah ! shall Poland's women see son torn from father and husband from wife, to be dragged like wild beasts to Siberia — worse than eternal doom ^ Shall we see freedom ebb- ing away without raising hand or head ? Merciful God, restore Poland to its former self." Bang — bang — bang, came from the old clock in the bar-room below. He counted twelve strokes ; then prepared to go to bed. but first went to the window and looked out. " " I irr :--.'i.. The moon had come out bright and clear throwing its silver stream over the sparkling snow fields. Still- ness within — stillness without. Wonderful earth ! earth where they hate and they murder ; earth where they love and they cherish. What is lite after all } Only a shooting star — once gone, soon forgotten. Still it is my native land and the injustice remains the same. MMMMMiMMtlMMt I I *6 THE UNKNOWN. So he reflected until gentler thoughts for a moment healed the open wound. When sleep closed the weary eyelids, he thought himself once more in the railway station. He felt the arms of that beautiful girl winding round his neck ; tighter and tighter they pressed. He felt the warm touch of her beautiful lips as they met his. It went all through him like burning fire. He looked in those wonderful eyes and knew he could love her as never man loved before. i/,:,;:'. ■ ^ .•'^: ": ■^-^'- - ...r-^— ^.-^— ..-^-..^ ~.^ — THE UNKNOV/N. 1 7 V CHAPTER III. RETURNED FROM THE MARKET. Christmas holidays are over. Bright and happy days they have been, with play, dance and music. Friend visited friend, while the air rung with laugh- ter, mingled with the merry sound of bells, as the sledges passed each other on the snow-clad roads. At the inn everything had been very quiet. The stranger kept his room all day, spending the most of the time in writing ; but when twilight threw its shades among the trunks of the stifif old poplars in the garden, he would take a stroll out there ; otherwise he lived unnoticed and untroubled. Who he was or where he came from nobody knew ; only one being took any special interest in the strange visitor — one who watched and waited for his arrival in the garden. This one was the landlord's daughter, Mary. Although scarcely turned sixteen, her figure was splendidly de- veloped and her face one of those pretty, innocent, country faces so often met with in Germany. To her this dark, silent and handsome man was a novelty. She fancied all kind of things ; sometimes she thought him a foreign prince, who, through some misfortune, had taken the vow of entire future seclu- sion from the world : still the more she saw of him the more she liked him. A strange feeling would set immmmmmMiidimitMimimt^i^tmmmmtmB ( I I. I I ! I I : i I I I 1 I ; 1 8 THE UNKNOWN. . her heart in a flutter whenever he made his appear- ance. But little did he dream what eager eyes rested upon him as he thoughtfully walked up and down in the poplar a//e. Had he been able to detect those bright brown eyes peeping through the kitchen window ; or had he been able to read the dawning love and deep curiosity, so clearly expressed in the innocent face, he would have felt deep pity, and forever shunned the garden. Several days had passed, and preparations were being made all over the surrounding country, as an annual market was to be held in the nearest town. The day came at last, bringing dry weather and sunshine, as a market gift, for the happy farmers, who now thronged the roads ; some driving a roaring herd of cattle, while others rolled by with loads of eggs, butter, cheese and poultry. We do not intend either to follow those or enter the noisy, busy market-place ; enough to say, that the bright evening star seemed blushing to draw a cloud between it and the crowd of people, which now commenced their homeward journey. Those on foot tottered along with unsteady steps, and those on horseback swung to and fro like a ship in distress ; while the more fortunate and com- fortable, seated in their large carriages, drove as fast as the fat country horses could run. mnaia II 1--^- ^-^-^^1 -.ii^^.t^^- .^^^-^-....■-^ ^,,-...3^ ^.. THE UNKNOWN. 1 9 Low, smutty songs, accompanied by coarse laughter, jarred on the ears of the more sober travellers. Some ten miles from town, on one of the principal roads, a light shone out from a large stable, now well filled with horses and carriages. The steam rising from the flanks of the former, and the soiled, muddy appearance of the latter, showed that the owners had done some fast driving. Loud tingling of glasses, laughter and oaths came from the bar-room of the " Brown Bear," for this was the inn. And now, to see what is going on inside, we will take a peep through one of the dirty window panes. In one end of the room stood a large oak table. Around this, on solid wooden benches, sat a mixed crowd of farmers, cattle drivers, small tradesmen, and a few tramps, with just money enough in their pockets to pay for a night's lodging in the straw among the cows. The theme of the conversation in general seemed to be the proceedings of the day, and all that had happened at the market. Then the talk turned to the great topic of the day, that which had stirred the whole world from pole to pole — the assassination of the great Czar, Alexander II. Clearly did they show their antipathy to the Nihilists, some of whom had fled shortly after the murder had been committed. ;.! iC THE UNKNOWN. AmoFig those was a distinguished Polish nobleman, who had been accused of taking part in the murder, and on whose head was set a reward of five thousand roubles. Still he was innocent, and tried to prevent the misdeed, although having often spoken openly against the tyrannical way in which Russia tried to rule the torn and hard tried Poland — with all the warmth and love for his native land, a love tender and true, shown so plain and strong by this nation more than any other in the world. With such love, I say, he had tried all in his power to raise the sunken spirit of his countrymen, to see Poland once more free from the cruel yoke which now lamed and tor- tured her, was the height of his ambition. In this cause he had risked his life and lost his possessions. But worst of all, to save himself from life-long slavery in the mines of Siberia, he had been compelled to flee from the place where he had spent his childhood's days, and from those who had depended on his great intellect, strong arm and warm heart, as he grew up to sturdy manhood. With his soul bleeding for his fellow-men's freedom, as an " Unknown " he roamed , about in a foreign land, while the well-known, hon- , ored and beloved name of " Ponzatowsky " existed only in the memory of the past. THE UNKNOWN. 21 CHAPTER IV. A CRUEL SCHEME. As the guests spoke of this nobleman, and the great reward promised for his capture, a sudden change seemed to undergo the landlord ; he drew nearer and nearer the group, with both hands resting on the end of the table. He leaned over it in an eager listening attitude. Many expressed the wish to be able to win the money, among those three villainous- looking scamps, one of them a stout man with long, unkempt hair and beard, a broken nose, and a red bloated whiskey face, was known as Old Derrick. He seemed very intimate with the landlord, and as the guests later on one by one left the inn, he called Old Derrick and the other two to one side : " Follow me," he said, leading the way into the next room, which to all appearance seemed empty. " What is up now, old boy," said Derrick with a grin, which showed two huge yellow teeth sticking out in front of the rest. " Tut, tut, not so loud. I tell you what it is, I have found something out," whispered the landlord in a hoarse voice. "What do you mean?" asked all three. ** Well," said the former, *' the man whom they are after — him who was in the Nihilist affair at St. Peters- -y 22 THE UNKNOWN. burg and^ afterwards slung his buck — the Polish fellow. What is his namt now? I can't get my tongue round it, but I think I could lay my claws on him this minute if I wanted ; but if you want to go in for business, then I claim half of the reward, the other half you can divide between you." " All right, my chick. Now tell us how we can get at the man," said Derrick, impatiently. Then the landlord proceeded to tell how his strange visitor had come to the inn in the middle of the night and how he had lived in secrecy ever since. That he was a nobleman and used to better living, was easy discovered, therefore, through the conversation. Dur- ing the night he had come to the conclusion that the unknown man was no other than the escaped Nihilist. A plan was now laid to capture, or if it should be necessary, even to kill him. The silent midnight hour was the time selected for the foul deed. Tem- porary the three, therefore, parted, not noticing a pair of bright, sparkling eyes behind the old-fashioned stove in the corner. ■-■«•; THE UNKNOWN. *$ 1. .,">■■ * CHAPTER V. THE BAFFLED ASSASSIN. In his chamber sat the stranger. Musingly he let the blue columns of smoke from a Havana cigar play around his handsome head. In front of him lay several close- written papers. He had just grasped the pen to address a large envelope, when a tap on the door made him start. Nothing can describe his astonishment when he saw it was the landlord's daughter, Mary, who answered the loud " Come in." What could have brought her there at such an hour of the night, when everybody else in the house seemed to have gone to sleep .'* Still there was no time for reflection. Here she was, and evidently on no ordi- nary errand, as her confused, timid and frightened aspect elearly showed. She tried to speak, but her voice failed, her head was bent a little to one side, and the beautiful eyes cast down ; the quivering lips, the rapid rising and falling of her bosom, betrayed how agitated she was. The stranger arose, went over to her, and laying his hand gently on the girl's head, he said in a soft, deep voice ; " Is there anything you want to tell me, child ? " 1^ THE UNKNOWN. 4* Then the long restrained tears broke forth, under a violent sobbing, and in broken words she stammered, ** Hee, flee as fast as you can. In half an hour it will be too late." Then a small, warm hand grasped and pressed his, but only for a second. Before he had time to form his bewildered thoughts into a question, the girl had disappeared. For a few moments he stood, lost in deep thought ; then a sudden resolute expression came into his face. From his valise he took out a plain suit of blue work- man's clothes. These he put on, and, with a few more things added to the new costume, he soon suc- ceeded in getting the appearance of a sturdy, good- looking workingman. The thin, white hands he soiled with dust ; then he blew out the light, tied a rope to the window-post, and a minute after he had disappeared in the darkness. Close on twelve o'clock, after everything had be- come quiet, the landlord and his three companions made preparations for their nightly work. Old Der- rick carried a small lantern well hidden under his blouse, while a long knife glittered in his belt ; the landlord had a stout rope in his hand, and the third of the worthy gang clenched the handle of a big ham- mer. When in the hallway and at the foot of the staircase leading up to the room occupied by their THR UNKNOWN. 25 victim, the landlord whispered : *' I say, boys, if this aristocratic lubbard should make too much trouble, then we will make short work of it, and afterwards in quietness lower him down in the garden well. Let the reward go to thunder ! I am sure the money in his valise far exceeds any reward promised by a beggarly Russian Government. This proposal was generally accepted, and the four climbed the stairs slowly and noiselessly, in their stocking feet. " The light is out," whispered Derrick, as he looked through the keyhole ; then, pressing his ear to the door, he declared the inmate fast asleep. With great care the handle was turned, and now all four stood in the room — the landlord with his rope ready, another with uplifted hammer, and Old Derrick with one hand on the lantern and the other on the knife. When a sud- den flash from the lantern, as it was drawn from under the blouse, showed an empty bed — the half-closed window, with the dangling rope fastened to the post, told its tale. The bird had flown. A stream of fearful oaths now poured forth over the escaped victim, and the landlord to pacify the baffled . would-be murderers, who now savagely turned on him, had to take them do^n to the bar-room and fill them with whiskey till they fell senseless on the floor. Who had warned the stranger nobody ever found out. 26 THE UNKNOWN. But in her chamber Miss Mary lay bathed in tears. For a few days she had been so happy, oh so happy. Without thinking of the consequences, she had given her poor young heart to him who had gone, never to return. V CHAPTER VI. J/ PLANNING AN EXCURSION. Winter and spring had passed, and summer with ail its beauty, its warm, sunny air fanning your cheek ; summer with nature in full bloom, like a maiden just turned into womanhood, had begun. Excursions and picnics, of which the Germans are so fond, were made all over. As yet the Volken family had not been anywhere this season. They had travelled so much that nothing seemed new to them. But one after- noon, as Miss Agnes lay out under the veranda, slowly swinging herself to and fro in a hammock, while she chased the intruding mosquitoes away from her lovel face with the daily paper, her eyes fell on a description of the salt mines in V . The more she read, the more interested she grew. How won- derful, that deep under the earth should be a world of its own — a city with streets, churches and market places^— a city where the reflection of lamp lights is THE UNKNOWN. 27 thrown a thousand fold back by the sparkling, glitter- ing salt-pillars. How strange to think of being down there — to live and die in the seat of the earth without knowing anything of the wonderful world above. How awful the thought of being lost in the numerous, far-stretching passages, where no human being ever comes, and where total darkness rules alone. Here was something new, something piquant, and Miss Agnes thought she should like immensely to « visit the salt mine.s. They were a long distance froqi Saxony ; but what of that. Her father had money enough, and never left her a wish ungratified. That night, at the tea table, Baron Volken and his family discussed the best and most convenient way in which to travel on their excursion to V . All were in good spirits, and seemed to like the idea extremely, and a week from that time was chosen for their departure. Gaily humming a piece of an old ballad. Miss Agnes tripped into her bedroom. Many happy thoughts crossed her mind as she unfolded and brushed the long silken tresses of her beautiful hair. " I wish I were a bird, then I would sing night and day," she said, as she quickly jumped into bed. Strange to say, that night she dreamed of a tall, handsome man, with a black moustache, who saved h i^ THE UNkNOWMi her from some great danger. As she looked closer, she saw he resembled the stranger from the railway station. A happy, thrilling feeling made her heart beat quicker ; then a peaceful slumber took possess- ion of her until the dawn of day, when she awoke, refreshed and glad. CHAPTER VII. LOST IN THE MINES. The impression which the underground city made on our friends, as they a few days later stood in one of its brilliantly illuminated squares far exceeded their expectations. In the middle a fountain threw up a column of water, which fell down like a shower of snowflakes. In the strange light it looked as a human being dressed in a long, white robe. Little stands with delicious fruit stood here and there, with beautiful Bohemian girls behind the counter, who if possible seemed more attractive than the fruit they sold. Flower girls, with rare hot-house plants and pretty nosegays brought from the magnificent gar- dens above, were seen everywhere. Heavy loads, with sparkling blocks of salt, were now slowly dragged along by long-eared and long-haired mules, who looked as if a century had passed over them. tttE UNKNOWN. 29 As the party moved further on, the streets became more narrow and the houses fewer. At last the noise of hammer stroke and the klick of spades told them that they were close to the place where the miners worked. In '^^irj places six or more would work together under a foreman, but in the more distantly removed passages one man would work alone by the light of a single lantern. A kind of fascinating awe took possession of Miss Agnes as they went farther in those half dark passages. The last light seen in the passage, where they now found themselves, came from a small lantern standing close beside a tall, broad shouldered miner. Miss Agnes was] not aware that she] was a little ahead of the others, who had stopped to admire a curious shaped salt pillar. The lonely miner had his back turned to her. In mute wonder she watched his movements, as he with a graceful ease swung a heavy hammer, splitting one large block after another, his splendid figure and great strength showing it.self to great advantage ; and she was curious to see what his face looked like. Just then he turned round, his eyes falling on her, seemed to so bewilder and astonish him, that the hammer unnoticed slid through his hand ; at the same time falling heavily on the lantern, completely smashing it. A scream escaped Miss 30 THE UNKNOWN. Agnes, she stOv \ in darkness, and in front, of her the man she came so near kissing at the railway station ; a second before the accident with the lantern, his handsome face, with the dark deep-set eyes and long black moustache, was recognized by her ; perhaps he never had fully been out of her thoughts since that night. In the excitement she did not notice, that the road forked just where she stood ; she saw her parents and her brother just looking round to see where she was, then she ran to join them, but at the same time taking the wrong passage. A second after a nameless terror overcame her, all light had disappeared, she was in total darkness. The miner not realising the danger in which Miss Agnes had thrown herself, but thinking her still stand- where last he saw her, asked her pardon for the awkward position and the darkness he so suddenly and uncon- sciously had caused, then hastened to the nearest group of miners. Shortly after he returned with another lantern, and instead of meeting the young lady, he found the remainder of the visitors, all of them greatly agitated ; she had completely disappeared. The last seen of her was when they stopped in front of the salt pillar ; thinking her soon to rejoin them they had waited until the disappearance of the light had alarmed them ; now she was nowhere to be seen. THE UNKNOWN. ^% Soon the fearful truth dawned on all. In her excite- ment she had taken the wrong passage ; but which one ? That was hard to tell. Many passages led from the place where they stood, all of them old and condemned. They crossed and re-crossed one another running how far under the ground no one knew ; for years they had been untrod by a human foot. The unlucky tidings spread like wildfire down among the miners. Soon the distressed family was surrounded by hundreds of people, who showed a great deal of sympathy for the bereaved parents. Everyone knew it was almost certain death to enter the dark labyrinth of passages. " Twenty thousand marks for any one who brings back my daughter ! " shouted the Baron, almost out of himself with grief. The greatest part of the miners were poor people ; therefore, the offer being great, a number of them resolved to try their luck. After some minutes' dis- pute, they all came to the conclusion that the road in front of them, in all probability, was the one taken by the unlucky , young girl. When at last they stood ready with torchlights, provisions and compass, two hours had elapsed — two hours which to those who waited in dire distress seemed equal to two years. Hand shaking and well-wishing from their families 39 THK UNKNOWN. .1 1 I I was over. The men were just in the act of entering the said passaj^e, when a hollow, thunder-like sound, immediately followed by a loud crash, shook the very ground they stood on. A heartrending shriek escaped the Baroness. She was the first to discover that the passage now holding her beloved daughter had caved in. Everyone present turned white with fear, and Edward carried his now senseless mother to the nearest hotel. Men with spades and pickaxes were soon at work trying to remove the rocks now barricading the entrance, or perhaps which was far worse, filled the whole or a large part of the passage. How far they had to work no one could tell. Should it last long, the poor girl would die the death of starvation. Oh ! cruel fate, for one so young and pure! -i • • S» r t^-^^n r»(r»«4< iLAk^* jt liKMIlHSiai l iMU Ml M^ / THE UNKNOWN. 33 CHAPTER VIII. THE MINER IN PURSUIT. No sooner had the strange miner heard that the young lady was missing, before he understood she had, by a mistake, gone wrong ; and fully realizing the great danger in which she now was, he plunged in after her. A short way from the entrance his foot touched something soft, and picking it up, found it to be a handkerchief. This proved him to be on the right track, and onward he pressed through the death- like darkness. But soon he had to slacken the speed as the ground lay strewn with blocks of salt. Over one of these he stumbled and fell, at the same time striking a rock with such force as to leave him stun- ned and senseless, stretched on the cold, damp ground. When at last he awoke from the fainting fit, he felt quite bewildered. " Where am I ? It is all dark as night," he mut- tered. Just then the pain in his forehead, and a warm stream slowly trickling down his cheek, reminded him of what there had passed. A handkerchief tied tight around his head momentarily stopped the bleeding. " Oh, what precious time I am losing." he groaned, as he commenced the pursuit anew. i! ' 1 1 I I ! 1 .^4 THE UNKNOWN. There was great danger that the young girl should enter one of the many branches which crossed the passage ; if so, she would be lost forever. All de- pended, therefore, on him overtaking her before this should happen. A nameless fear, a fearful anxiety betook, him as he thought of the peril in which the fair young girl now was placed. He would gladly give years of his life tu save her. Often and often had the nicniory of this bright and beautiful face made his blood feel warmer and the heart beat quicker, as he imagined those well-shaped arms en- circled his neck, while he seemed to feel the touch of the youthful form as it slightly pressed against his on that memorable night at the railway station. While thus reflecting, a thunder-like noise shook the walls of the dark passage. His hair stood on end. By the pressure of the air, following the unearthly noise, he knew the passage had caved in behind him. With trembling limbs and bathed brow he staggered onward. How long would it last before the cold, sharp-pointed rocks would fall down and bury him ? How was he to get out ? And how was he to break the news to the poor girl if he did find her ? Those thoughts almost maddened him. " Merciful God, help me to save her ! " came from his trembling lips, like a l^st pi^jrcij^g ory txom a tt^vTf^^' Ai^'^Hiiiimirt ' '^lfmv.iy^l ' ■^valms &!i THF UNKNOWN. 35 sorely oppressefl soul. Just then his feet touched somethinpr on the ground. H.e stretched out his hand as he kneeled down to examine what it could be; a second after he started back like one receiving his death wounrl. Long trej^ses of soft hair had run through his (tngers. "It is her," he groand. "Can she be dead;? Oh, no, this must not be, I would gladly die for one more look into those beautiful eyes." But still and immove- able she lav. Unheeded and unheard were the words of sorrow and pain poured forth by the man beside her. After undoing the dress, which encircled the slender waist, he placed his hand on her heart. Had anyone been able to see his face, they would have noticed the nameless joy which overspread it like a sudden stream of sunshine on a cloudy day. The slow, faint beating of the heart showed that she was still alive. If she was hurt, or how she had fainted, he could not tell ; down there in the fearful darkness he had no means by which he could revive her, but tenderly and carefully he lifte