CHAPTER XXIV.—THE GOLDEN MAUSOLEUM.
GRIM was a happy man. He would conceal his joy for one short year, and then—and then—. He had at last reached the top-most craig of all his worldly hopes. Wealth was his, and now he had secured the promise of Bertha Allen to be his wife. He called at his lawyer’s office the next day and told him he wished to add a codicil to his will. He spoke in his usual loud and confident way, and seemed to constantly remember that he was not only the richest man in Gold Bluff, but, by big odds, the most fortunate.
The lawyer knew his client. He knew his whims and wisely humored his eccentricities. It needed but little encouragement and flattery to set Rufus Grim going, recounting the steps he had carved out for himself on life’s journey, and the pinnacle to which he had climbed.
Arthur Boast came in and took a seat in the outer room, Grim requested the lawyer to close the door, and asked him what he let that young scoundrel come about the premises for. Then he seemed to remember that he was the victor, and why should he still hold malice? After a little, he again referred to the matter of changing his will, and when the lawyer was ready, he dictated a codicil bequeathing all his possessions unconditionally to Bertha Allen, to which he attached his signature. The lawyer showed no signs of astonishment at Rufus Grim’s action, though he guessed the relationship that existed between his client and Bertha Allen.
That evening a clandestine meeting between Bertha and her cousin, Arthur Boast, had been arranged.
Her first words, after the greeting and a kiss of welcome, were in regard to the ordeal she had passed through with Mr. Grim.
“To think, Arthur,” lisped Bertha, “of that old fool asking me to be his wife! Why, I really thought I would die, I did indeed!”
“And what did you say?” asked Boast.
“Why, you sweet old darling, what could I say but give him to understand that perhaps I was willing? I told him to wait a year, and then—.”
“Yes, and then?” hissed Arthur, through his teeth.
“Oh, don’t be foolish, my own darling,” said she, slipping her arms about his neck, “you know I was only pretending; you know that I loathe him, but I have been dependent on his bounty for so many years. I am only too ready, Arthur, to go with you; yes, to the ends of the earth.” She caressed him tenderly, and Arthur’s ill-feeling gave way before her tender entreaties.
He had heard Rufus Grim dictating the codicil to his will, and had been fired with a mad jealousy, but she had confessed all at their first meeting, and he felt relieved. He would not tell her of the codicil to the will; no, not now.
"We must not delay our marriage much longer,” said Bertha, sweetly, “we really must not, Arthur; you must save me from that old bear. Oh, how I hate him!”
“Did he attempt to caress you?” asked Arthur.
“Yes,” replied Bertha, slowly, “but he only kissed me once.”
“Only kissed you once!” cried Arthur, and with a savage oath he pushed her from him.
“Arthur, you’ll break my heart,” she cried in stifled pain, and creeping closer to him she clasped his arm with both her hands. “He kissed me on the forehead. How could I help it? He is so overbearing and so determined—I did not know but he would turn me away from his home unless I humored and fooled him. Won’t you forgive me? How could I help it?”
“Yes,” said Arthur, clasping her passionately to his breast, “yes, I’ll forgive you; but you must go away from Rufus Grim’s house, and I will arrange matters and soon we will be married.”
“You make me so happy, Arthur; I could starve, yes, starve willingly with you, rather than live with any other man on earth.”
“I think we had better be married soon,” said Arthur, “say in two weeks?”
“Impossible!” lisped Bertha.
“No, not impossible,” replied Boast, almost savagely,
“I say we must be married in two weeks. I will take you to my father’s for a little while, after which we will commence housekeeping.”
“Why, Arthur,” protested Bertha, “you are the most unreasonable man living; you are, indeed. How can I be married in two weeks? It’s such a short time since mamma died.”
“It must be as I say,” replied Arthur, determinedly, “it is for your good. You are left alone in the world, and, Bertha, I love you with the only love that I have ever given to any human being. There, don’t cry; dry your eyes, my darling, and make up your mind that I know what is for your good.” She finally gave in, and the compact was sealed with a lover’s kiss and a tender embrace.
The next day was one to be long remembered. Colonel Bonifield called at the Prospector office and told Vance that, at last, they had reached the 500 foot level.
“Yes,” said the Colonel, with more enthusiasm than he had exhibited for some months, “we have cert’nly had mo’ trouble, suh, in goin’ these last hund’ed feet than all the other distance put together, but we have kep’ right along, and finally, suh, we are 500 feet below the groun’. Of cou’se, there’s a lot of work yet to do; in fact, a pow’ful lot, in cross-cutting into the vein, but a week’s work, with my present fo’ce of men, will finish the drift-shaft. It’s a vehy proud moment of my life, suh, to tell yo’ that afteh all the trials and delays we have had, that finally we are down to the 500 foot level. There’s a little matteh, Mr. Gilder, that I want to speak to yo’ about. I’m goin’ to be a little short of money. I think, possibly, suh, I have enough fo’ about three or fou’ days’ work yet. We have about fo’ty men workin’, and I am anxious to keep them until we finish cross-cuttin’.”
Vance was aghast. He knew not what to do, and he frankly confessed to the Colonel that the $6,000 which he had given him was, practically, every cent he had in the world of ready money; that he had written to Judge Patton, who had charge of his estate in New York city, and the judge interpreted his father’s will to require his residence in New York city in order to enjoy the annuity.
The Colonel thought a moment, and then said: “Don’t bother yo’self, Mr. Gilder, it’s a matteh of vehy little importance, anyway, I assure yo’, suh; I know my men. Most of them have been workin’ fo’ me oveh a year, and I feel perfectly confident they will stand by me until we finish the work, even if I haven’t the ready money with which to pay them. They’re a grand lot of fellows, I assure yo’ they are, and between yo’ and me, every one of them has great confidence in Gray Rocks; wonde’ful confidence, yes, suh.”
The Colonel bade Vance good-day and started for his mine, and Vance turned to his case with a heavy heart.
The winter was late in coming; though it was the first of November, yet the air was comparatively mild, and the breezes soft, yet invigorating.
That evening, Rufus Grim walked back and forth on his wide porch contemplating his own importance. After a little, he walked down through the village and followed a by-path along the mountain side, up toward the old prospect shaft on the Peacock. The night was still and beautiful. The moon was in the last quarter; but her rays were obscured by lazy, drifting clouds, that hung idly in the heavens.
Arriving at the old prospect shaft, he took off his hat, and pushed his fat fingers through his heavy hair. He even unbuttoned his coat and leaned against the low wall about the old shaft. Far below him were the lights of Gold Bluff shining from many windows. He looked toward his home and thought of Bertha.
“Yes, she loves me,” he mused aloud, “she is a darling little angel. I always thought she returned my love, and now I know it. What a coy way she has about her! What slender hands! Gad; but it was an ordeal, the declaring of my love for her, but I fancy no one could have done better. No, sir, Rufus Grim is always equal to any occasion.
“I have made myself what I am. After we are married, we will go to New York city and Washington. They will say I have the loveliest little wife in America—they cannot say otherwise. The men will envy me for owning such a jewel. How different she is from other women!
“Bertha!” he mused, “the loveliest name in the world! The little minx! Yes, she suspected that I loved her. She refused ‘em all for me; that scoundrel J. Arthur Boast, among the rest. He is a clever dog, though, and I rather feared him, but now it is all over.
“I wish my law-suit was settled; that is the only speck on my horizon, but the decision in the courts above, I feel sure, will be the same as in the lower courts. Yes, I am lucky; there’s none luckier on the whole face of the earth. I came into this camp with nothing—now look at my possessions.” He chuckled to himself, and in an absent way kicked his foot against the old wall.
“Here is the place I made the discovery. I presume I ought not to blame the dogs of war for being on my track, of course, they want a share of this rich mine, but d——— ‘em, they can’t have it. No, sir, it belongs to Rufus Grim! The gold I have will protect the unmined millions in the Peacock.
“Neither court nor jury shall stand before my ambition. My first, yes, my abiding ambition, is for gold, but with it has come a love that knows no brooking for Bertha. God bless her! She is so tender and so refined—-my cup is full to overflowing.
“They say I am successful. Whom shall I thank but myself? No one. I have climbed the rugged and uneven path alone, unaided. I have bent men to my way of thinking; I am greater than all of them; yes, greater than all. I’ll make my marriage a success too, and with my gold and my beautiful wife, I will commence living. No, I have never lived; I have merely slaved and existed, but now I am getting ready to commence.”
Thus Rufus Grim fed himself on his own egotism, and recounted life’s victories, resulting from his own exertions.
A dark form crouched near him, dimly outlined in the uncertain light. Presently it crept stealthily up behind him. There was a hurried rush, a whistling noise cut sharply through the air; a stifled cry, a heavy fall, and Rufus Grinds body plunged forward into the yawning mouth of the old prospect shaft, and his life’s work was over.
His anticipated happiness, his pompous joy, his earthly prosperity, his vanity and vain-glory, all were over. Had he died by any other method, it might have been said that it was well that his death occurred before he discovered that Bertha Allen, to whom he had given all that was tender in his coarse and pompous life, had cruelly deceived him.
It mattered not now, the decision of the higher courts of earth, but rather the decision of that higher court in heaven. A sounding splash from murky waters far below resounded back to the outer world like a farewell echo, and Rufus Grim’s mangled remains rested near the gold he loved so well. Yes, in the vault where his manhood had been bartered for gold, he slept. There was gold on every side—gold above him and gold beneath him—a priceless mausoleum.
Yes, at last, all that was mortal of the man of inordinate worldly ambition and restless energy, reposed in the monotonous sleep of unbroken stillness.