Part 31

The effect on the group was extraordinary. They had sat motionless, oblivious to fatigue and mosquitoes, while Clark spoke. Their brains were flooded with the knowledge that this meant ultimate permanence to the works. It meant rails and plates and all iron and steel products, and these were made doubly possible by the enormous reserve of power still available in the rapids at St. Marys. They glanced into the woods as though there were still mysterious treasures waiting to be revealed at a wave of the hand of this magician.

Presently Wimperley straightened up. He had been going through a strange searching of soul while his gaze wandered from the glistening rock at his feet to Clark's keen face. He began to perceive clearly for the first time the prodigious potentiality of this man who was equally masterful in Philadelphia and the back woods. He saw to what wide scope this enterprise could expand if only this restless and prophetic spirit might be wisely steered by men of colder brains and more deliberate resolution. But Clark, after all, was the creator.

"Yes," he said half aloud, "you get your blast furnace."

The Philadelphians took to the homeward trail with backward glances and something of regret lest the archaean foundations of that mountain of ore might shift over night. There was no sense of fatigue now. Birch skipped over logs in wayward abandon and laughed like a schoolboy when Clark picked a heavy gold watch chain that dangled from an overhanging bush. Riggs' thin legs were being scratched by the sharp samples with which he had stuffed his trouser pockets, but he felt them not, and Stoughton's choler had given way to a profound contemplation out of which he periodically breathed the conviction that he would be damned. Wimperley was already organizing a new company--an iron corporation--and hazarding shrewd guesses as to the effect this discovery would have on the outstanding stock. The result, he concluded, would be most inspiring.

They lunched on the tug, an admirable meal, while the vessel vibrated gently and through the open portholes came the swish of bubbling water and a flood of sunlight. Then Riggs made a little speech and they all drank Clark's health, promising him continued support and such money as he needed to make steel rails. The threatening specter of Marsham had vanished utterly.

The answer was characteristic. There was no mention of anything the speaker had contributed, but just the voicing of his unalterable faith in a country which so far had never failed to produce whatever the industry required. It was a pleasure for him to work for directors and shareholders who had so practically demonstrated their confidence. He said this with a smile which was absolutely undecipherable, then drank their health in water which was his only drink---declined one of Wimperley's cigars, for he did not smoke--and inquired quietly if he was to get his railway as well. Whereupon he was immediately assured that he would get anything he asked for.

That evening the Philadelphians left in the private car. They were rather quiet, being caught up in contemplation of a new vision. As the train pulled out Clark waved a hand to the group on the rear platform and returned thoughtfully to the blockhouse where he began to write. The letter was to his mother. He told her that he had been too busy for correspondence of late, and had just concluded a very satisfactory and official visit from his directors. In consequence, he would now be busier than ever. He stared at his own signature for a moment, then opened a window and stood peering out toward the river. The moon was up, and he caught the snowy gleam of foam at the foot of the rapids. Their voice seemed very clear and very triumphant that night. They sang of providence--or was it destiny?

His mind turned reflectively to Elsie Worden, experiencing as yet no thrill but just a growing and satisfying attraction. All things seemed possible tonight. He had never given much thought to women, being impatient with what seemed to him their artifice and slight power of insight. So often the women who were esteemed most praiseworthy, were also the least intelligent, and lacked that spark which to him signified vision. In past years he had had a rooted belief that the standard wife was a burden who not only robbed one of mobility, but also demanded her portion of all moments, however individual, absorbed or tense they might be. In such circumstances there was nothing around which he could build a mental fence and call it his own.

It is possible that in such periods as these, when Clark gave himself up to taking soundings, as it were, in the sea of his destiny, he distinguished in his own nature that curious duality of sex which makes it possible for certain rare individuals to self satisfy their emotional appetites, and that it was this which had kept him single and unfettered. If he had a craving he could forthwith produce that which appeased it. He luxuriated in the revelations of his own perception. To him the inarticulate thing became vocal with possibilities. He was conscious of no unsatisfied need. And yet, for all of this, the vision of the girl, Elsie, began to blend with his thoughts.

XII.--LOVE AND DOUBT

Some three months later Belding was walking slowly down the main street of St. Marys. He felt fagged and the sun was hot. Just as he reached the Dibbotts' white gate he heard a clear voice from behind the clump of azaleas that screened the cottage from the road.

"Come in, Mr. Belding."

He lifted the latch and saw Mrs. Dibbott in a white dress on the porch. She seemed cool and restful.

"Sit down here. My, but you look tired!"

"I am," he admitted, mopping his face.

"Then sit where you are and have some elderberry wine and cookies. They're right from the oven."

He sighed with relief and began to munch contentedly. He had not known how tired he was, and Mrs. Dibbott's cookies were famous.

"You look played out," she went on sympathetically. "How's Elsie Worden?"

"Well. But I don't see very much of her nowadays."

"Why?"

"Work." His brain was fermenting with half completed plans and calculations. He might as well lay it to that.

"Well, why don't you two get married? You will be old before your time."

Belding shook his head. "It takes two to make a bargain."

"But it doesn't take long." Mrs. Dibbott put down her crochet work. "Don't you think your friend Mr. Clark depends just a little too much on individuals--I include himself in that?"

"Perhaps, but it didn't occur to me. At any rate we have a one man concern."

"And if anything happened to him, what then?" Mrs. Dibbott's eyes were bright with inquiry. "And suppose you break down, what about Elsie?"

"Elsie wouldn't be affected," he said slowly.

"Then you two are not engaged?"