Part 72

"Yes, you'll know without any question whatever. It's the case of a man who worked very hard, and he didn't work for money or glory, or anything of that kind, but just because he loved it and couldn't help it."

"That sounds very like yourself."

"There are many men like that, more than most people imagine," he said quietly; "and after this one had, so to speak, built the foundations and walls, he had not money enough to put on the roof, and another man came along and offered to do it. Of course, he would get the credit for the whole building. It was a very important one, and it affected the lives and comfort of a great many people who would suffer if it were not completed."

The girl glanced at him strangely. "Is that all?"

"Yes, except that the people who lived there would naturally forget all about the man who laid the foundations and built the walls, and would even blame him and think only of the one who made the place habitable for them."

"But does that matter?" she asked quickly, looking at him.

Clark took a long look at the animated face. "That he should be forgotten or blamed?"

"Yes. You said he worked for the love of it. He didn't ask for thanks or appreciation, and from what you tell me he wasn't that kind." She turned swiftly: "It is yourself."

"And if it were, that would not alter your judgment, would it?"

"Is it fair to ask?" Her eyes were full of a touching appeal.

"A frank opinion is the fairest thing to me," he said quietly. "I know how you would look at it. There's only one answer you could give. If it were otherwise it wouldn't be you: the first man has no alternative, has he?"

"No," she whispered. Her face was pitiful, as though she had been secretly and cruelly hurt.

"Then it is the works I'm considering," he continued slowly. "You're the only one I can tell just now, but if they go on, it must be without me."

"But they're your works. You dreamed them and then built them."

"I've had many dreams, Elsie."

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 hoarse 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 shore. 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.