The Rapids Part 44

Her heart beat rapturously. It was the first time he had called her Elsie, and her spontaneous spirit went out to this man who stood facing so great and sacrificial a decision. She longed to spend herself upon him. Involuntarily she glanced up with profound pity and, turning, caught a glimpse of a canoe that whipped down stream under the middle span of the great bridge.

"Oh, look! he's going to be drowned." She clutched Clark's arm in sudden terror.

The latter stared, while something rose in his throat. The canoe was familiar. He had seen it a few hours before on the upper bay, and now his keen sight made out the figure of Belding. Instantly he grasped the cause of this foolhardy deed. A glance at Elsie told him she was unaware who it was that thus played with death.

"Look, look!" she cried again.

The canoe pitched into the first cellar, and in the mound of silver foam they could discern only the slim and tossing bow. Presently it emerged and reeled on into the fury below. Elsie covered her eyes, and Clark stood as though fascinated. What part had he played in this perilous drama?

Vividly his mind flashed back to those first days, the beginning of the engineer's unswerving loyalty. Year after year he had never faltered, and at the end of it all, even though apparently robbed by his chief of his heart's desire, had thrust himself between Clark and the hoa.r.s.e hatred of the mob. Came now an overwhelming sense of unworthiness, and Clark asked of himself who was he to demand such sacrifice. Then, as though a cloud had revealed the sun, the way became quite clear.

"Elsie," he said, "the canoe is all right, look!"

Down in the long, smooth swell at the foot of the rapids, it lay sluggishly. The man dipped his paddle and began to move almost imperceptibly towards sh.o.r.e. The girl drew a long breath.

"He's safe."

"Yes," said Clark earnestly, "he's very safe. Now I want to talk to you."

She brightened at once. "Do."

"I've wanted to talk to you for months. Do you remember what we spoke of last?"

"Destiny," she said softly.

He nodded. "I see it plainly to-day, more plainly than ever before.

Sometimes when a man is in deep water his sight gets keener. What I have been through in the last seven years is only a phase, it's not an epoch. I was meant to do it, and I did it with all my heart. Now I'm going to do something else, in order that the works may prosper. You have helped me to make that decision."

"I?" she whispered faintly.

He put a hand on her arm--it was his only caress.

"Yes, Elsie, you. It is as though I had caught sight of a road which was very beautiful and tender, and I was tempted to take it. But it is not my road. What the future has left for me I don't know, but it is not here and I must meet it alone."

He paused for a moment, and the girl's brown eyes filled with tears.

Presently the steady voice continued.

"Destiny is calling, and one cannot take a girl into a battlefield, for that is what it is going to be. I'm a poor man again, Elsie, just as I was seven years ago. That does not matter, for I will be rich in memories."

"Don't," she said brokenly, "don't!"

"Youth will go to youth, Elsie."

"You mean--"

"I mean that the man you really love, is the man you saw run the rapids."

"Jim!" Her eyes were round with terror.

"Yes, Jim, the best friend but one I found in St. Marys. Jim, full of loyalty and courage and energy; Jim who wanted to give his life for mine, though he thought he'd lost you. He had never really lost you, Elsie. The road that led to you seemed so attractive that I hesitated, till now I see that it was Jim's road. It always was."

In the silence that followed she lifted her exquisite face. Her lips were parted, and in her gaze was a light that came as through dissolving mist. And then into their very souls crept the voice of the rapids. Clark caught it, and perceived that the call was not for him alone but for thousands yet unborn, and there began to creep over him the ineffable unction of labor. He realized how large was the world, and how much work yet remained to be done. His spirit was not solitary, but linked forever with eternal realities, and through the cloud that obscured the present he could see his star of destiny s.h.i.+ning undimmed.

And Elsie! Elsie sat, her whole being shaken with overwhelming emotion. Never had she so longed to be everything to this man as now when, with prophetic power, his vibrant voice told her that he must journey on alone. In his accents she recognized the note of fate, and the ground s.h.i.+fted under her feet. She saw her dream dissolving. She perceived that against his lofty spirit she herself must oppose nothing small and selfish, however poignant the moment. Summoning all her fort.i.tude, she stretched out her hand.

He stood for a moment, and she felt the pressure of his grasp. It was warm and confident. When she looked up she was alone.

It was hours afterwards that Ardswell and Weatherby lounged at their windows, overhanging the terrace. They were in dressing gowns and smoking contemplative pipes. Down below was seated a motionless gray clad figure, clearly outlined in the moonlight. Ardswell saw him.

"Poor devil!" he said under his breath.

XXV.--THE UNCONQUERABLE SPIRIT

Two years later, Belding and Elsie were returning from Chicago, where the former had been purchasing machinery for the new company, of which he was chief engineer. Time had done well for them and for St. Marys.

The six months' physical inactivity of the works were spent wisely, if ruthlessly, in weeding out unfertile growths and concentrating resources on those which were sound and promising. There was a sharp distinction between this deliberate policy and the restless activity that preceded it.

St. Marys, too, had caught its breath and taken on permanency. There were no more surprises. The works became a factory, instead of a Pandora's box, full of the unexpected. Property was stable, if lower than the high water mark, while Filmer and the rest settled down to steady business, somewhat forgetful of the man to whom were due the first tendrils of the tree of progress.

But Belding, growing constantly in mental stature, could never forget.

His own position--his development--his authority, had come of the abiding faith bestowed on him nine years ago by one whom he had then seen but for ten minutes. And as often as he saw the works the realization came over him. How many others, he wondered, felt as he did?

They were approaching St. Marys, and, coming out of the dining car with Elsie, he steadied her to their seat. Night was drawing on, but the car remained unlighted, and simultaneously they noticed a man sitting across the aisle, staring intently out of the window. Something familiar in the figure caught their attention.

"It's Mr. Clark," he whispered to his wife.

She glanced across, and her fingers tightened on his arm.

"Don't speak to him, Jim."

"Why?"

"Look at him, can't you see?"

Belding looked, Clark was absolutely motionless, and had not changed a fraction in two years. The train moved on, till it halted for a few moments on the great bridge. The air was cool and full of the deep roar of the rapids, and the car vibrated delicately with the huge steel girders on which it rested. Two hundred feet away came the first, smooth dip that Belding would always remember. Immediately beneath, he had slid into the chaos further on.

The two young people did not stir, but watched the silent observer.

Against the window they caught the dominant nose, the clean cut, powerful chin, the aggressive contour of head and shoulders. Clark was leaning forward, his gaze exploring the well remembered scene.

"Don't disturb him," whispered Elsie again.

Her husband pressed her hand, and they waited, wondering what thoughts were pa.s.sing through that marvelous brain. He was staring at the works. It was all his--this dream come true; this vision portrayed in steel and stone. Out of nothing but water and wood and his own superb faith he had created it, only to see this exemplification of himself slip from his own hands into those of others, who had sponsored neither its birth nor its magnificent development. What portion of his leader, pondered the engineer, had been incorporated in those vast foundations--and what had life left in store to replace them for him?

The train was moving on, when Clark, turning suddenly, smiled and held out his hand.

"Glad to see you both, if only for a minute. I'm on my way back to Russia, where I'm carrying out large improvements for the government--been there for the last year. By the way, Belding, did you notice that old, crooked birch beside the rapids? A big, fat kingfisher used to live there--we knew each other well."