These poor pale wretches, the shadows of their former selves, were sent up in the cages with all expedition, and received by Bartley, who seemed to forget nothing, for he had refreshment tents ready at the pit mouth.
Meantime, Walter and others, whose hearts were with him, ran wildly through the works, and groped on their knees with their lamps to find Hope and his daughter, but they were not to be found, and nine miners beside them were missing, including Ben Burnley.

Then Walter came wildly up to the surface, wringing his hands with agony, and crying, "they are lost! they are lost!" "No," cried Bartley, "they must not be lost; they shall not be lost.

One man has come to himself.

I gave him port-wine and brandy." Then he dragged the young man into the tent.

There was stout Jim Davies propped up and held, but with a great tumbler of brandy and port in his hand.
"Now, my man," said, or rather screamed, Bartley, "tell him where Hope is, and Mary--that I--Oh, God! oh, God!" "Master," said Jim, faintly, "I was in the hall with Mr.Hope and the lady when the first explosion came.