CHAPTER VI—“THERE’S NOTHING HALF SO SWEET IN LIFE”
JOHN STEELE now entered upon a period of his life which was most interesting and enjoyable. The numerous petty and annoying incidents which had heretofore been the cause of friction between himself and his numerous subordinates disappeared as the mist fades before the rising sun, and he found himself at the head of as willing and energetic a staff as any man could wish to have co-operate with him. With his chief even the most captious of men could have no fault to find, and Steele was far from being captious. T. Acton Blair seemed a changed man. No one could be more genial and considerate. He even drifted into the habit of calling his division superintendent “John.” Their business conferences were of an exceedingly friendly and amiable character, and yet John frequently censured himself when he detected deep down in his own nature remnants of distrust still lingering regarding his urbane superior. Once when Blair was gone rather longer than usual on a visit to New York, some inquiries that came through caused him to surmise that Blair was undermining him at headquarters, but on Blair’s return John felt rather ashamed of himself. That good man had indeed mentioned him to the powers that be, but the mention had been entirely to his advantage, with the result that John got ten dollars a week added to his salary, quite unsolicited. Blair almost apologised for his action, saying by way of excuse that the road was really getting so prosperous, and had been so free from disaster ever since Steele had joined it, that Rockervelt was pluming himself on having chosen the right man once again.
“By the way,” said Blair casually, “Mr. Rockervelt informed me he had read in the newspapers of your windfall. He asked me in what your money was invested, but I was unable to tell him.”
“Most of it is in railway stocks,” replied Steele.
“Ah, that would have interested him. Are any of the Rockervelt stocks in your safe deposit vault?”
John laughed.
“No, I don’t think I possess a single share, even in the Manateau Midland. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make a transfer.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Blair, impartially. “Unless a man is a professional speculator he generally loses in transferring his stock from one interest to another. The broker usually gets a slice when this happens. Still, I am sure Mr. Rockervelt would be rather pleased to hear that you own stock in the Midland. He encourages that sort of thing, especially among his higher officials, imagining quite rightly, perhaps, that they are just a leetle more careful if they are part owners of the road they operate. I think it’s a very good idea, myself; still, at the present moment all the Rockervelt lines are booming, and I don’t know any investment I could more cordially recommend. Still, I’m prejudiced in the matter, so don’t let what I say influence you in the least. But if you should buy a block of Midland, for instance, I wish you’d let me know, so that when I am next in New York I can answer Mr. Rockervelt’s former question. It certainly wouldn’t do you any harm with Rockervelt, and there’s no better security on the market.”
The newspapers had made much of John Steele’s luck in falling heir to a considerable sum of money. The circumstances and unexpected nature of the legacy gave the item a semi-sensational value which was not neglected by the reporters, and even if the amount was in many cases exaggerated, the reputation of being a wealthy man revealed an entirely new world to the young superintendent—the world of social life. He was taken up by society with a warmth that was peculiarly gratifying to so modest a man as John Steele, and for this taking-up T. Acton Blair was largely responsible. On two or three occasions he invited John to dinner, where the young man met many delightful people. He now saw a side of Blair that had heretofore been entirely hidden from him, and, in spite of Rockervelt’s former warning, quite unsuspected. Blair as a host was one of the most charming of men; debonair and polite as a Frenchman; a very prince of good fellows. His house was a veritable palace, and when first John was ushered into the midst of its magnificence, it seemed scarcely credible that a young nobody like himself, but a few years past occupying a miserable position on the railway in the prairies, should actually have browbeaten and defeated the owner of all this wealth.
Blair evinced no rancour over this defeat, and Steele esteemed him a human nettle, dangerous only when timorously handled. Steele was too shrewd a man not to have recognised that he had discovered the weak spot in Blairs armour, which was a fixed aversion against being brought into conflict of any kind with the great Rockervelt, and this knowledge gave the young man assurance that his position on the staff of the gigantic corporation was more stable than he had hitherto regarded it. He now saw Blair as a genial, easy-going man, who always took the line of the least resistance, avoiding unnecessary trouble, which was wise in one-so well to do in the world’s goods, and as John himself was imbued with the most kindly feelings toward even his enemies, he had the gratification now of beholding his future extend before him like a well-ordered railway line: a clear right-of-way, and no signals against him.
One morning Mr. Blair entered the division superintendent’s room, accompanied by a man so much like himself that he might almost be taken for his younger brother.
“Mr. Steele,” cried the general manager, in his most amiable manner, “I wish to introduce you to Colonel Beck, an officer of the company, who keeps us all out of prison. Colonel Beck is Mr. Rockervelt’s chief legal adviser, who knows so much about the law that he can enable any one with money to evade it. Colonel Beck, this is Mr. John Steele, our youngest, and I believe I may add, our most capable division superintendent.”
The Colonel laughed pleasantly as he shook hands with the young man.
“Mr. Blair gives you a better character than he bestows upon me,” said the lawyer, with a good-natured twinkle of the eye. “If there is one characteristic more distinctive than another in the Rockervelt system, it is the unvarying respect it holds for the law.”
“Oh, that’s true enough,” rejoined Blair. “Why shouldn’t we respect the laws when the Colonel here makes most of them pertaining to railways?”
“Are you then a member of the Legislature?” asked John innocently.
Both of the fat men laughed, and Colonel Beck replied: “No, I am not so restricted as all that. A member of the Legislature possesses one vote. In the secret sanctity of this room, now that my friend Blair has given a hint in that direction, I may say I control many votes in the various Legislatures, and perhaps a few in the National Capitol as well. Still, that’s all among ourselves, Mr. Steele, and, getting to safer ground, I may add that I esteem this meeting a pleasure, for you are one of the few men I have heard Mr. Rockervelt speak highly of, and when Mr. Rockervelt praises a man I like to know that man and make him my friend if possible, for he is sure to go far. I think,” continued the Colonel, turning toward Blair, “that Mr. Rockervelt said the superintendent here was rather a considerable shareholder in the Midland.”
“Mr. Rockervelt was a trifle premature if he said that,” replied the general manager. “He spoke to me about it last time I was in New York, but I was unable at the time to give him definite information.”
“He is not in the least premature,” Steele intervened quietly. “Since our conversation a while ago, Mr. Blair, I have sold out all my Michigan Central Stock with some of my Northern Pacific, and have invested in Manateau Midland.”
“Ah, then you are one of us,” cried Beck, with enthusiasm; “I wish I had known you before you made the transfer, because I could have introduced you to brokers who would have done the job at the same rate they transact business for us, which I may add is a considerable shade lower than the general public pay. In future if you have any dealings on the market, I shall be glad to give you the benefit of both advice and introduction, which may result in your saving money.”
“I am an investor, rather than a speculator,” replied John, “and more anxious to get good securities than exorbitant dividends.”
“A very wise rule of conduct,” said the Colonel, nodding his head sagely several times; then, abruptly changing the subject, he once more expressed his pleasure at making the acquaintance of John Steele.
“I live part of the year in New York, and part in this city,” continued the Colonel, “for I am a native here. I arrived a week ago, and to-morrow night we give a little house-warming which I should be glad, Mr. Steele, if you would attend. Not a great crush, you know; a homely gathering rather than a fashionable function, but you shall meet very choice people there, eh, Blair? You’ll corroborate me in that, I’m sure?”
“Yes, Colonel,” responded Blair, “you are altogether too modest. Your dinners might well form a model to Lucullus, and I can assure Mr. Steele that he will meet people whom it may be a great advantage for him to know. Now, there’s a handsome, unsolicited testimonial.”
“No, by Jove, it was solicited, wasn’t it?” cried the genial Colonel, rubbing his hands together. “Well, Mr. Steele, may I depend on you? You will forgive the shortness of the notice, because of the shortness of our acquaintance.”
John Steele accepted the invitation with a cordiality equal to that with which it was tendered.
The prediction of both the stout gentlemen that John Steele would meet interesting people whom he should be glad to know was more than fulfilled, although his joy of new acquaintance was concentrated on one person.
Miss Sadie Beck was the most beautiful girl Steele had ever seen. Her face was sweet and innocent; her complexion of purest ivory tinted with dawn, the colours that go with hair of Californian gold, profuse and waving; the whole entrancing picture being lighted up by eyes as blue as a June sky.
The portals of the Beck mansion proved to be the gates of Eden, with Eve awaiting him within the Paradise. John, hitherto all unused to the society of women, found himself in the presence of Sadie Beck thrilled with emotions of which he knew nothing, and life quite unexpectedly presented possibilities that dazzled him.
Colonel Beck was a widower, and the only child of his only brother was mistress of his household. The Colonel had been too busy a man to think of marrying again after his wife had died, but circumstances solved the problem which his own immersion in great affairs prevented him from grappling with. His elder brother had been as unsuccessful in business as Colonel Beck was the reverse, and dying, he left his daughter to the care of her wealthy uncle, who had given her the most fashionable education money could procure, and then had installed her as the fascinating hostess of his home, a position which she amiably filled to the delight of his guests, and to the complacent satisfaction of himself.
The effect of this new-born friendship upon John Steele was instantaneous and permanent. All the counsels which Philip Manson had formerly tendered to him, urging a greater care in his personal appearance, and a stricter attention to the niceties of dress had made but ephemeral impression upon the object of Manson’s solicitations; but now, without a word being spoken, John became almost a modern dandy. The hairdresser’s constant attention worked wonders with his head covering, and the most expensive tailors found him an exacting customer.
John discovered suddenly that the onerous duties of division superintendent required a far wider outlook than he had so far bestowed upon them. He must know the law pertaining to his profession, and therefore he found frequent consultations necessary with the adviser to the corporation, and that urbane gentleman did his best to enlighten so diligent a student. Frequently, as was bound to happen with a man on whose shoulders rested a portion at least of the legal business pertaining to a wide-spreading railway system, Colonel Beck was occupied in his own study, compelled to refuse himself to any visitor, and great as should have been the disappointment of so earnest a pupil, John, nevertheless, could scarcely conceal his delight that the niece rather than the uncle should be his entertainer upon these occasions. The elderly lady who acted as chaperone in the Beck household was a placid nonentity, whom even a less strenuous person than John Steele might easily have ignored. She always contented herself with reading the latest book or magazine in a corner under the shaded electric light, while Sadie sat at the piano at the further end of the large room, and played most divinely certain soft, clinging, sentimental harmonies which might be carried on in conjunction with whispered conversation.
Sadie was a deservedly popular young lady, and often, to his chagrin, John found others in the drawing-room, claiming a share of her attention, and to do Miss Beck justice, she bestowed her favours with impartial charm upon all alike, although as time went on John Steele flattered himself that there was reserved for him a tone slightly more confidential than any of the others received. If the old Colonel saw what was going forward, almost, as one might say, before his eyes, he made no sign, and certainly treated the young division superintendent with an even cordiality that would have proved flattering to a man of much higher standing in the company’s service than was John Steele.
During this interesting period of his existence the young man lived in an intoxicating, rose-hued atmosphere. “Lucky in love, unlucky in war” was proving itself false in his instance. Never before had he been so successful in his business; never so popular with superiors and subordinates alike. Difficulties appeared only to vanish before the magic wave of his hand. His suggestions were adopted, his plans prospered, and perhaps most inspiring of all, his sagacity and his energy met unasked appreciation. His salary was raised to a hundred dollars a week, and Blair, when he announced the fact, referred almost apologetically to the ever-increasing prosperity of the road, due largely, he was good enough to say, to the efficiency of the division superintendent.
And yet there was one pebble in his shoe. With increase of means, curiously enough, there came the increased knowledge that intrinsically he was a poor man. The property which a few months before had seemed wealth, now appeared what Blair had actually suggested it to be, merely the nucleus around which an energetic man might accumulate a fortune. He was in the social class of the millionaires, but not in their financial class. No matter what dividends were paid on two or three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of railway stock, that income, added to his salary of five thousand a year, would never support a palace such as Blair lived in, or even a mansion similar to the one inhabited by Colonel Beck. Sadie, with the demeanour of a queen, needed also the income of a queen. John had no delusions on that score, and furthermore, being proud, he could not ask her to step down, but to step up. The germ that had remained dormant in his mind since his uncle’s death now developed into the belief that he might become as prosperous in speculation as he proved to be in all other walks in life. Often in after years he remembered the coincident conjunction of necessity, development and opportunity. Any two of the trinity would have been inactive without the presence of the third, but the trio travelling by different highways met at the crossroad, and then important things happened.
One eventful evening he dressed for dinner and dined early at the club; then he strolled up the avenue to the residence of Colonel Beck. Ushered into the drawingroom he found Sadie standing by the open piano, idly touching the upper keys with the tips of her fingers, standing there as if she were waiting for him, yet he knew she was waiting for some one else, for her opera cloak hung over the back of a chair beside her, and she was arrayed superbly for dinner, ball or reception. Never afterward could John give to himself any lucid description of what she wore, except that she looked like a radiant angel garbed in white. Her raiment was diaphanously, airily beautiful. Her gleaming, snowy shoulders, superb neck, and crown of golden hair made up a vision almost unearthly in its loveliness, which at once entranced and startled the young man. She turned toward him that superbly poised head, with the arched brows of surprise at his entrance mellowed by a seductive smile of a welcome not to be misunderstood. John himself was one of those well-set-up young men who look their best in evening dress, and as he came rapidly forward down the long room the girl could see the soul shining in his eyes, and the sight brought added colour to her own fair cheeks.
“Sadie,” he cried, taking both her hands in his, although she offered him only one, “if but a painter could place on canvas even a hundredth part of your adorable beauty to-night, his fame would ring down the ages.”
The girl laughed.
“Is it so striking as all that? Then I am sorry I can give you but fifteen minutes of it, for my uncle is taking me out to dinner, and man-like he is late, having just arrived home and gone upstairs to dress.”
“Fifteen minutes! What is it the poet says of fifteen minutes as compared with a cycle of Cathay? Fifteen minutes, Sadie, with you, is worth an eternity with any one else on earth. Why, bless my soul, the Declaration of Independence was signed in ten!”
Again the girl laughed, trying, not very strenuously, to disengage her hands.
“Do you wish me to sign a declaration of independence?” she asked.
“Yes, a declaration of independence from all the world except me.”
“In other words, a declaration of dependence on you rather than independence of the rest?” she corrected.
“Sadie, I’ve adored you ever since I met you. The picture on canvas that I spoke of is impossible, for there is not genius enough existent to do it justice. But there is a picture I ask you to look at,” and he swung her round almost rudely until she saw the reflection of two young people holding each other’s hands in the tall pier-glass.
“If you appreciate that Princess as she deserves, you will wonder at the conceit of the man standing beside her, that he dares to ask for the original.”
Sadie looked at her counterpart with a certain complacency, for doubtless she was a girl who had received many proposals, and was not to be swept from her feet even by one so impetuous as this. But that she was gratified by the young man’s earnestness, one needed but a glance at her sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks to see. She turned from the glass to him.
“Is it the girl from New York or the gown from Paris you so warmly admire?”
“Answer me, Sadie, answer me,” he cried.
“Hush, hush,” she whispered, “I hear my uncle coming,” and now she struggled in earnest to release herself, but strenuously he held her firm.
“Answer yes or no.”
“Which word will release me most speedily?” she demanded.
“The first.”
“Then it must be yes. A fine masterful lover you are!” she cried with pretended indignation, as she whisked herself free from him.
It was a maid who came in, and taking up the white cloak, she adjusted it over the fair shoulders of her young mistress. A moment later the Colonel, rubicund and beaming, entered the drawing-room.
“Ah, Steele, is that you?” he saluted his visitor, shaking hands in the most friendly manner; “has my niece told you that we must enact the inhospitable savage tonight, and turn you forth in a cold and pitiless world?”
“Yes, Colonel,” laughed John, who was in such a state of joyous exaltation that he would have laughed, no matter what his host had said, “yes, and I must confess that it is like being turned from Paradise.”
The Colonel, smiling, allowed his eyes to pass from the exuberant young man to the downcast face of his niece, who seemed absorbed in the rearrangement of her white cloak. If the Colonel suspected anything, he said nothing that might give a hint of his surmise.
“Do you know that Mr. Rockervelt is in town?” he asked.
“No,” replied the young man, in some astonishment.
“He arrived here by the noon train,” continued the Colonel, “and all this afternoon we have been in close session at Blair’s house. Mr. Rockervelt spoke of you, and said he was sorry he could not see you this trip. We are dining with him to-night at Blair’s, but ladies being present, no business will be talked. Mr. Rockervelt leaves by special at ten o’clock.”
“Rather a short stay,” commented Steele.
“Short, but important,” replied the Colonel, as he led the way to the door.
John Steele had the advantage of escorting Miss Sadie to her carriage, and the felicity of pressing her hand before he made way for the Colonel to enter. He stood there for a moment, watching the receding back of the carriage, and then walked uncertainly down the avenue, treading not upon hard flagstones, but on clouds, his mind far aloft in the realms of romance, while his body bumped heedlessly against innocent passers-by, or those who hoped to be passers-by until he ran into them, interrupting their course and causing one stranger to remark that it was a pity to see a young man so drunk this early in the evening.