Lorimer of the Northwest

“That is an Indian pony, not Geoffrey’s horse, and a man on foot is leading it,” he said. “They are coming this way; I will meet them.”

Miss Carrington, however, laid a restraining grasp upon him, and very slowly the clock ticked off the seconds until, when two figures came out through the thinning forest into the clearing, the Colonel’s face grew white as death. For a moment he choked for breath, and his sister sobbed aloud when he recovered himself, for she too had seen.

“I thank a merciful Providence – it is Grace,” he said.

I lifted Grace from the pony’s back, led her toward the house, and saw the old man fold his arms about her. Then I heard her happy cry, and while for a time they forgot all about me, I stood holding the pony’s rein and thinking. My first impulse was to go forward and claim her before them, but that was too much like taking advantage of her father’s relief. Also, I felt that some things are sacred, and the presence of any stranger would be an intrusion then, while it seemed hardly fitting to forthwith demand such a reward for what any other should doubtless have done gladly. So, trusting that Grace would understand, I turned away, determined to call on the Colonel the next morning, and, though I am not sure that the result would otherwise have been different, I afterward regretted it. Now I know that any excess of delicacy or consideration for others which may cause unnecessary sorrow to those nearest us is only folly.

No one called me back, or apparently noticed me, and though with much difficulty I reached the ranch, and was hospitably entertained there, I never closed my eyes all night. I returned to the Colonel’s dwelling as early as possible the next morning, and was at once received by him. The events of the preceding day had left their impression even on him, and for once his eyes were kindly, while it was with perceptible emotion he grasped my hand.

“I am indebted to you for life, and you acted with discernment as well as gallantry,” he said. “You have an old man’s fervent thanks, and if he can ever repay such a service you may rely on his gratitude.”

I do not know why, for they were evidently sincere enough, but the words struck me unpleasantly. They seemed to emphasize the difference between us, and there was only one favor I would ever ask of him.

“You can return it now with the greatest honor it is in your power to grant any living man,” I answered bluntly. “I ask the promise of Miss Carrington’s hand.”

I feel sure now that there was pity in his eyes for a moment, though I scarcely noticed it then, and he answered gravely:

“I am sorry. You have asked the one thing impossible. When Miss Carrington marries it will be in accordance with my wishes and an arrangement made with a dead kinsman long ago.”

I think he would have continued, but that I broke in: “But I love her, and she trusts me. Ever since I came to this country I have been fighting my way upward with this one object in view. We are both young, sir, and I shall not always be poor – ” but here he stopped me with a gesture, repeating dryly, “I am sorry for you.”

He paced the long room twice before he again turned toward me, saying with a tone of authority, “Sit down there. I am not in the habit of explaining my motives, but I will make an exception now. My daughter has been brought up luxuriously, as far as circumstances permitted, and in her case they permitted it in a measure even on the prairie – I arranged it so. She has scarcely had a wish I could not gratify, and at Carrington Manor her word was law. I need hardly say she ordered wisely.”

I bent my head in token of comprehension and agreement as the speaker paused, and then, with a different and incisive inflection, he continued:

“And what would her life be with you? A constant battle with hardship and penury on a little prairie farm, where with her own hands she must bake and wash and sew for you, or, even worse, a lonely waiting in some poor lodging while you were away months together railroad building. Is this the lot you would propose for her? Now, and there is no reason I should explain why, after my death there will be little left her besides an expensive and occasionally unprofitable farm, and so I have had otherwise to provide for her future!”

“There are, however, two things you take for granted,” I interposed again; “that I shall never have much to offer her – and in this I hope you may be wrong – and Miss Carrington’s acquiescence in your plans.”

The old grim smile flickered in the Colonel’s eyes as he answered: “Miss Carrington will respect her father’s wishes – she has never failed to do so hitherto – and I do not know that there is much to be made out of such railroad contracts as your present one.”

This was certainly true enough, and I winced under the allusion before I made a last appeal.

“Then suppose, sir, that after all fortune favored me, and there was some reason why what you look for failed to come about – all human expectation, human life itself, is uncertain – would you then withhold your consent?”

He looked at me keenly a moment, saying nothing, and it was always unpleasant to withstand the semi-ironical gaze of Colonel Carrington, though I had noticed a slight movement when quite at random I alluded to the uncertainty of life. Then he answered slowly:

“I think in that case we could discuss all this again, though it would be better far for you to consider my refusal as definite. Now I have such confidence in my daughter’s obedience that on the one condition that you do not seek to prejudice her against me I do not absolutely forbid your seeing Miss Carrington – on occasion – but you must write no letters, and you may take it as a compliment that I should tell you I have acted only as seemed best in her interest. Neither should it be needful to inform you that she will never marry without my consent. And now, reiterating my thanks, I fail to see how anything would be gained by prolonging this interview.”

I knew from his face that this was so, and that further words might be a fatal mistake, and I went out hurriedly, forgetting, I am afraid, to return his salutation, though when I met his sister she glanced at me with sympathy as she pointed toward another door. When I entered this Grace rose to meet me. The time we spent in the cañon had drawn us closer together than many months of companionship might have done, and it was with no affectation of bashful diffidence that she beckoned me to a place beside her on the casement logs, saying simply, “You have bad news, sweetheart. Tell me everything.”

Her father had exacted no promise about secrecy. Indeed, if the arrangement mentioned compromised a prospective husband, as I thought it did, Grace was doubtless fully acquainted with it; and I told her what had passed. Then she drew herself away from me.

“And is there nothing to be added? Have you lost your usual eloquence?” she said.

“Yes,” I continued, “I was coming to it. It is this: while I live I will never abandon the hope of winning you; and, with such a hope, whatever difficulty must be grappled with first, I know that some day I shall do it.”

“And,” said Grace, with a heightened color, and her liquid eyes shining, “is there still nothing else?” And while I glanced at her in a bewildered fashion she continued, “Do you, like my father, take my consent for granted? Well, I will give it to you. Ralph, while you are living, and after, if you must go a little before I do, I will never look with favor upon any man. Meantime, sweetheart – for, as he said, I will not resist my father’s will, save only in one matter – you must work and I must wait, trusting in what the future may bring. And so – you must leave me now; and it may be long before I see you. Go, and God bless you, taking my promise with you.”

She laid her little hand in mine, and I bent down until the flushed face was level with my own. When I found myself in the open air again, I strode through the scented shadows triumphantly. The Colonel’s opposition counted as nothing then. I was sanguine and young, and I knew, because she had said it, that until I had worsted fortune Grace Carrington would wait for me.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE OPENING OF THE LINE

During the weeks that followed I saw neither Grace nor Colonel Carrington – though the latter fact did not cause me unnecessary grief, and we heard much about his doings. From what the independent miners who strolled into our camp at intervals told us, the Day Spring shaft had proved a costly venture, and had so far failed to lay bare any traces of payable milling ore. Still, the redoubtable Colonel continued with his usual tenacity, and was now driving an adit into the range side to strike the quartz reef at another level.

“There’s a blamed sight more gold going into them diggings than they’ll ever get out, and the man who is running them will make a big hole in somebody’s bank account,” said one informant meditatively. “However, there’s no use wasting time trying to give him advice. I strolled round one morning promiscuous, and sat down in his office. ‘See here, Colonel, you’re ploughing a bad patch,’ I says, ‘and having a knowledge of good ones I might tell you something if I prowled through your workings.’”

“What did he say?” asked Harry, smiling at me. And the narrator expectorated disgustedly as he answered:

“Just turned round and stared – kind of combine between a ramrod and an icicle. ‘Who the perdition are you?’ he said – or he looked it, anyway. So, seeing him above a friendly warning, I lit out, feeling sheep-faced; and I’ve bluffed some hard men in my time. Since then I’ve been rooting round, and I’m concluding there is good ore in that mountain, if he could strike it.”

“Do you know the sheep-faced feeling, Ralph?” asked Harry mischievously. And probably my frown betrayed me, because I knew it well, though there was some consolation in the thought that this reckless wanderer of the ranges knew it also.

In any case, I had small leisure just then to trouble about the affairs of Colonel Carrington. My duty to my partners and the men who worked for us was sufficiently onerous, for we had almost daily to grapple with some fresh natural difficulty. Twice a snow-slide awakened majestic thunders among the hills at night and piled the wreckage of the forests high upon the track. Massy boulders charged down the slopes and smashed the half-finished snow-shed framing into splinters; but, rod by rod, the line stretched on, and the surveyor’s good-will increased toward us. So the short weeks passed, until at last the metals led into the mining town, and its inhabitants made preparations to provide a fitting reception for the first train, the arrival of which would mark a turning-point in the wooden city’s history. I can remember each incident of that day perfectly, because it also marked the change from ebb to flood in the tide of our own affairs. We sat up late the previous night calculating the amount to our debit, which proved sufficiently discouraging, and endeavoring to value on the credit side work we had done in excess of contract; but this, Harry said, was reckoning without our host, as represented by the surveyor, who, when we approached him on the subject, displayed a becoming reticence.

It was a glorious afternoon when we stood waiting beside the track, attired for once in comparatively decent garments. Harry and I had spent several hours in ingenious repairs, one result of which was that certain seams would project above the surface in spite of our efforts to restrain them. Beneath us the foaming river made wild music in its hidden gorge, and the roar of a fall drifted up with the scent of cedars across the climbing pines, while above the hill-slopes led the gaze upward into the empyrean. But there is no need for description; we were in the mountains of British Columbia, and it was summertime.

Near at hand many banners fluttered over the timber city, and discordant strains announced the last rehearsal of the miner’s band, while a throng of stalwart men laughed and jested as they gazed expectantly up the line. They had cause for satisfaction. All had waited long and patiently, paying treble value for what they used or ate, and struggling with indifferent implements to uncover the secret treasure of the ranges. Now their enterprise would not be handicapped by the lack of either plant or capital, for the promise given had been redeemed, and with the advent of the locomotive they looked for the commencement of a great prosperity.

My face, however, was somber, for Harry made some jesting comparison between it and that of a mourner at a funeral. We, too, had done our share in the building of the road, but, as far as we could see, it had signally failed to bring us prosperity.

“You can console yourself with the feeling that it’s good to be a public benefactor, even if you don’t get any money,” said Harry cheerfully. “Did it ever strike you, Ralph, that the people who subscribe for statues make a bad choice of their models? Instead of the frock-coated director they should set up the man with the shovel – Ralph Lorimer, rampant, clad in flour bags, and heaving aloft the big axe, for instance, with the appropriate motto round the pedestal under him, ’Virtue is its own reward.’ No, I’m in charge of the pulpit this afternoon, Lee.”

What the shoemaker intended to say did not appear, for he smilingly abandoned the opportunity for improving the occasion. He had put on flesh and vigor, and now, instead of regarding him as a flippant worldling, which was formerly his plainly expressed opinion, he even looked up in a curious way toward my partner, and once informed me that there was a gradely true soul in him under his nonsense. The spell of the mountains and the company of broad-minded cheerful toilers had between them done a good deal for Lee. Then up on the hillside a strip of bunting fluttered from the summit of a blighted pine, the cry “She’s coming!” rolled from man to man, and there was a thunderous crash as some one fired a heavy blasting charge. A plume of white vapor rose at the end of the valley, and twinkling metal flashed athwart the pines, while a roar of voices broke out and my own heart beats faster in the succeeding stillness. Enthusiasm is contagious, and a feeling of elation grew upon me. Nearer and nearer came the cars, and when they lurched clattering up the last grade the snorting of the huge locomotive and the whir of flying wheels made very sweet music to those who heard them.

Then as, with the red, quartered ensign fluttering above the head-lamp and each end platform crowded, the train passed the last construction camp, a swarm of blue-shirted toilers cast their hats into the air, and the scream of the brakes was drowned in a mighty cheer, while I found myself cheering vehemently among the rest. The blasts ceased at the funnel, and as the slackening couplings clashed while the cars rolled slowly through the eddying dust I started in amaze, for there were two faces at the unglazed windows of the decorated observation car which I knew well, but had never expected to see there. Martin Lorimer waved his hand toward me as the train stopped, my cousin Alice stood beside him smiling a greeting, and with shame I remembered how long it was since I had sent news to her.

“Have you seen a ghost?” asked Harry. “You are a regular Don Juan. Who is that dainty damsel you are honoring with such marked attention, to the neglect of your lawful business. Don’t you see the surveyor is beckoning you?”

This was true, for, standing among a group of elderly men who I supposed were railway magnates or guests of importance, the surveyor, to my astonishment, called me by name.

“I have been looking for you all along the track,” he said. “Must present you to these gentlemen. We have been discussing your work.”

Several of the party shook hands with me frankly, while the names the surveyor mentioned were already well-known in Winnipeg and Montreal, and have since become famous throughout the Dominion. One with gray hair and an indefinable stamp of authority touched my shoulder with a friendly gesture. “I have had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Lorimer before,” he said. “We have some business together, and expect you to join us in the opening ceremony. Meantime, you will excuse me – Jardine, I’m thankful it is your turn. There is evidently a deputation coming.”

Preceded by tossing banners, and a band which made up in vigor what it lacked in harmony, a procession approached the train, and its leader commenced reading something awkwardly from a written paper in time to an undercurrent of semi-ironical encouragement. I saw some of the visitors’ eyes twinkle at his sentiments, but for the most part they listened with becoming gravity; and when a man with gold eyeglasses had suitably replied, there was a wild scuffle for even a foothold on the train. One musician smote another, who strove to oust him from a platform, with his cornet, which promptly doubled in; the big drum rolled down a declivity with its owner hurling back wild language in frantic chase of it; then the locomotive snorted, and, with the bell clanging, it hauled the first train into the wooden town amid the acclamations of the populace. After this I had an opportunity for greeting my uncle, and we looked at each other with mutual curiosity. Martin Lorimer seemed thinner and older. His hair was freely sprinkled with white now, but his eyes were as keen as ever, and I could read approval in them. Then as Alice came toward us from an adjoining car he laughed boisterously.

“What do you think of your cousin, lass?” he said. “He left us an obstinate stripling, and this country has hammered him into a man. Thou art a credit to the land that bred thee, lad. Ralph, I wronged thee sorely, like the blundering fool I am, and first of all I ask thy forgiveness.”

Martin Lorimer could speak excellent modern English when he liked, and usually did so, but, and in this he resembled others of his kind, in times of excitement he used the older form which is still the tongue of Lancashire. I made some haphazard answer, but it seemed appropriate, for Alice smiled upon us as we shook hands heartily. When I turned toward her a feeling of pity came upon me – she looked so wan and frail. Still her eyes were bright with good-will, and her voice seemed to tremble a little as she said, “I am so glad to see you and your uncle good friends again. He was very stupid, and I told him so.”

“You did, lass,” said Martin Lorimer, “many a time, and we had words upon it. We’re a thick-headed people, Ralph, except for our womenkind, and if we’re slow to think evil we’re slow to change. The Lord forgive me for pig-headed folly.”

“May I show you this wonderful township?” interrupted one of the railroad magnates approaching with a bow. “Mr. Ralph Lorimer, I am desired to invite you to the celebration dinner. It’s the chief’s especial wish that you should be present,” and he drew Alice away, leaving my uncle and myself alone.

“We’ll go and see the city, too,” said the former. “Already the air of your mountains makes me young again. Never heard how I cheated the doctors, eh? – they badly wanted to bury me, but I’ll tell you all about it another time. Now I feel like a school lad out for a holiday.”

He seemed in excellent spirits, and with me the bright sunshine, the uproarious rejoicings of the crowd, and the events of the past half-hour combined to banish all depression, while many an acquaintance smiled as he glanced at the grizzled man in tourist tweeds who chatted gaily and gazed about him with wondering eyes.

“You breed fine men over here,” he said. “Never saw a finer set anywhere. Bless me! look at that one striding toward us with the air of a general; stamp of blood about him; where did he get it? And yet by the look of him that fellow could do a hard day’s work with any British navvy.”

“He can,” I answered smiling, “and he was taught at a British university. Now he hews logs for a living, and sometimes works for me. Let me introduce you to my uncle from Lancashire, Martin Lorimer – Lance Chisholm.”

“Very glad to meet you, sir,” said the latter. “I promised to look in on Morgan in the saloon; will you join us?”

When we elbowed our way through the noisy room toward the bar Chisholm proffered the usual refreshment, and with a comprehensive wave of his hand bade the tender, “Set them up!”

Martin Lorimer stared bewilderedly at the row of glasses deftly flung in front of him, and there was a roar of laughter when, glancing at me appealingly, he said, “It’s a hospitable country; but, bless us, Ralph! are we expected to drink all of this? And I’m a churchwarden!”

A bearded giant in blue jean smote him on the shoulder. “You’ve got the right grit in you, stranger,” he said. “Start right in, and do the best you can,” while the old man joined in the merriment when I explained that the invitation included all in the vicinity who cared to accept it. I left him with Harry and Johnston presently because one of the guests brought word that Alice desired to see me, and I found her on the veranda of the best house the citizens could place at the strangers’ disposal. There were ladies among them. I drew two chairs into a corner where a flowering creeper screened half the trellis, and from where we sat a wonderful vista rolled away before us. Alice had changed but little, save that she seemed even more delicate. I had changed much, and now as we chatted with a resumption of ancient friendliness I wondered how it was that her innate goodness and wisdom had never impressed me more in the old days. Few would have called her handsome at first sight, but she was dowered with qualities that were greater than beauty.

“You will wonder what brought us here,” she said at length, “and your uncle forgot to tell you. Ever after that – unfortunate mistake – he talked constantly about our headstrong lad, but when he lay dangerously ill for weeks together I was unable to write you. The doctors had little hope most of the time, and one said he recovered chiefly because he had made his mind up he would not die, and when they forbade all thought of business and recommended travel he made me buy the latest map of Canada, and we are now staying at the new mountain chalet. My own health has not improved latterly, and that helped to decide him. We left the main line on the prairie and went south in search of you, and when we could only discover that you had gone to British Columbia I am sorry to say that my father expressed his disappointment very forcibly – but you know his way. Then while we stayed at the chalet we read about the opening of the new line, and he grew excited at a mention of your name. ‘We’ll go right down and see that opening, lass,’ he said. ‘I’ve a letter to one of the railroad leaders, and I’ll make him invite us;’ and so we came. When my father sets his heart on anything he generally obtains it. Now we will talk about Canada.”

The flowering creeper partly hid us, but it left openings between, framing the prospect of glittering peak and forest-filled valley with green tracery, while warm sunlight beat through. So, in contrast to the past, I found it comforting to lounge away the time there with a fair companion, while glancing down the glistening metals I told how we had built the line. Alice was a good listener, and the tale may have had its interest, while – and this is not wholly due to vanity – no man talks better than when he speaks to a sympathizing woman of the work that he is proud of. It was no disloyalty to Grace, but when once or twice she laid her thin hand on my arm I liked to have it there, and see the smile creep into her eyes when I told of Lee’s doings. So the minutes fled, until at last a shadow fell upon us, and I saw Grace pass close by with her father. For an instant her eyes met mine, then I felt that they rested on my companion, whose head was turned toward me confidentially and away from Grace, and I fumed inwardly, for she spoke to the Colonel and passed on without a greeting.

“That is surely Miss Carrington,” said Alice looking up later with a faintly perceptible trace of resentment. “Why did she not speak to either of us?”

It was a troublesome question, because I could not well explain what my exact relations were with Grace, nor how her father’s presence might perhaps restrain her, so that I was glad when Martin Lorimer suddenly joined us. It seemed fated that circumstances should array themselves against me. The rest of the afternoon was spent in hilarious merriment, and, though as a rule the inhabitants of that region are a peaceful folk, a few among them celebrated the occasion by breaking windows with pistol shots and similar vagaries. Still, even those who owned the glass took it in good part; and, as darkness fell, considerably more of the populace than it was ever intended to hold squeezed themselves into the wooden building which served as city hall, while the rest sat in the dust outside it, and cheered for no particular reason at regular intervals.