________________________________________________
_ For several days the subject of the great perforation made by the
automatic shell was not mentioned between Margaret and Roland.
This troubled her a great deal, for she thoroughly understood her
lover's mind, and she knew that he had something important to say
to her, but was waiting until he had fully elaborated his
intended statement. She said nothing about it, because it was
impossible for her to do so. It made her feel sick even to think
of it, and yet she was thinking of it all the time.
At last he came to her one morning, his face pale and serious.
She knew the moment her eyes fell upon him that he had come to
tell her something, and what it was he had to tell.
"Margaret," said he, beginning to speak as soon as he had seated
himself, "I have made up my mind about that shaft. It would be
absolutely wicked if I were not to go down to the bottom and see
what is there. I have discovered something--something wonderful
--and I do not know what it is. I can form no ideas about it,
there is nothing on which I can base any theory. I have done my
best to solve this problem without going down, but my telescope
reveals nothing, my camera shows me nothing at all."
She sat perfectly quiet, pallid and listening.
"I have thought over this thing by day and by night," he
continued, "but the conclusion forces itself upon me, steadily
and irresistibly, that it is my duty to descend that shaft. I
have carefully considered everything, positively everything,
connected with the safety of such a descent. The air in the
cavity where my shell now rests is perfectly good; I have tested
it. The temperature is simply warm, and there is no danger of
quicksands or anything of that sort, for my shell still rests as
immovable as when I first saw it below the bottom of the shaft.
"As to the distance I should have to descend, when you come to
consider it, it is nothing. What is fourteen miles in a tunnel
through a mountain? Some of those on the Great Straightcut
Pacific Railroad are forty miles in length, and trains run
backward and forward every day without any one considering the
danger; and yet there is really more danger from one of those
tunnels caving in than in my perpendicular shaft, where caving in
is almost impossible.
"As to the danger which attends so great a descent, I have
thoroughly provided against that. In fact, I do not see, if I
carry out my plans, how there could be any danger, more than
constantly surrounds us, no matter what we are doing. In the
first place, we should not think of that great depth. If a man
fell down any one of the deep shafts in our silver mines, he
would be as thoroughly deprived of life as if he should fall down
my shaft. But to fall down mine--and I want you to consider
this, Margaret, and thoroughly understand it--would be almost
impossible. I have planned out all the machinery and appliances
which would be necessary, and I want to describe them to you, and
then, I am sure, you will see for yourself that the element of
danger is more fully eliminated than if I should row you on the
lake in a little boat."
She sat quiet, still pale, still listening, her eyes fixed upon
him.
"I have devised a car," he said, "in which I can sit comfortably
and smoke my cigar while I make the descent. This, at the easy
and steady rate at which my engines would move, would occupy less
than three hours. I could go a good deal faster if I wanted to,
but this would be fast enough. Think of that--fourteen miles in
three hours! It would be considered very slow and easy
travelling on the surface of the earth. This car would be
suspended by a double chain of the very best toughened steel,
which would be strong enough to hold ten cars the weight of mine.
The windlass would be moved by an electric engine of sufficient
power to do twenty times the work I should require of it, but in
order to make everything what might be called super-safe, there
would be attached to the car another double chain, similar to the
first, and this would be wound upon another windlass and worked
by another engine, as powerful as the first one. Thus, even if
one of these double chains should break--an accident almost
impossible--or if anything should happen to one of these engines,
there would be another engine more than sufficient for the work.
The top of this car would be conical, ending in a sharp point, and
made of steel, so that if any fragment in the wall of the tunnel
should become dislodged and fall, it would glance from this roof
and fall between the side of the car and the inner surface of the
shaft; for the car is to be only twenty-six inches in
diameter-quite wide enough for my purpose--and this would leave at
least ten inches of space all around the car. But, as I have said
before, the sides of this tunnel are hard and smooth. The
substances of which they are composed have been pressed together by
a tremendous force. It is as unlikely that anything should fall
from them as that particles should drop from the inside of a
rifle-barrel.
"I admit, Margaret, that this proposed journey into the depths of
the earth is a very peculiar one, but, after all, it is
comparatively an easy and safe performance when compared to other
things that men have done. The mountain-climbers of our fathers'
time, who used to ascend the highest peaks with nothing but
spiked shoes and sharpened poles, ran far more danger than would
be met by one who would descend such a shaft as mine.
"And then, Margaret, think of what our friends on board the
Dipsey have been and are doing! Think of the hundreds of miles
they have travelled through the unknown depths of the sea! Their
expedition was fifty times as hazardous as the trip of a few
hours which I propose."
Now Margaret spoke.
"But I am not engaged to be married to Samuel Block, or to Mr.
Gibbs, or to any of the rest of them."
He drew his chair closer to her, and he took both of her hands in
his own. He held them as if they had been two lifeless things.
"Margaret," he said, "you know I love you, and--"
"Yes," she interrupted, "but I know that you love science more."
"Not at all," said he, "and I am going to show you how greatly
mistaken you are. Tell me not to go down that shaft, tell me to
live on without ever knowing what it is I have discovered, tell
me to explode bombs in that great hole until I have blocked it
up, and I will obey you. That is how I love you, Margaret."
She gazed into his eyes, and her hands, from merely lifeless
things, became infused with a gentle warmth; they moved as if
they might return the clasp in which they were held. But she did
not speak, she simply looked at him, and he patiently waited.
Suddenly she rose to her feet, withdrawing her hands from his
hold as if he had hurt her.
"Roland," she exclaimed, "you think you know all that is in my
heart, but you do not. You know it is filled with dread, with
horror, with a sickening fear, but it holds more than that. It
holds a love for you which is stronger than any fear or horror or
dread. Roland, you must go down that shaft, you must know the
great discovery you have made--even if you should never be able
to come back to earth again, you must die knowing what it is.
That is how I love you!"
Roland quickly made a step forward, but she moved back as if she
were about to seat herself again, but suddenly her knees bent
beneath her, and, before he could touch her, she had fallen over
on her side and lay senseless on the floor. _
Read next: CHAPTER XXI - THE CAVE OF LIGHT
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