CHAPTER XXVII.—AT LAST!
EFFECT on the people of a mining camp of one of those fabulously rich “strikes” like Gray Recks mine proved to be, may be imagined but cannot be described in words. Shopkeeper, citizen and miner alike, go wild with enthusiasm over so important a discovery. Congratulations were showered upon Colonel Bonifield and Vance from every quarter. Every one in Gold Bluff felt it his privilege to call at Colonel Bonifield’s home and pay his respects to one who had lived so long in their midst, and who had so persistently and so patiently maintained unbounded confidence in a proposition that was looked upon by others as a money-losing venture.
Independent of the fortune left him by his father, Vance was now a millionaire. In his prosperity he did not forget his old friends. He called on the sheriff and again offered himself as bondsman for Steve Gibbons. The bond was accepted, and a half hour later, Gibbons was released. Hank Casey surrendered himself, and was also immediately bailed out of custody.
One evening the stage coach brought to Gold Bluff Homer Winthrop and his young bride, nee Virgie Bonifield. It was a great surprise to the Bonifield household.
"And this accounts,” said Vance to Homer, after he had congratulated him, “this accounts for Marcus Donald hastening away from Gold Bluff.”
“Yes,” said Homer, “I could not think of having the ceremony take place without my old friend and associate, Marcus Donald, being present. We have traveled together so long, in adversity as well as in prosperity, that we are quite inseparable.”
“He is a great character,” replied Vance, “his disinterested assistance and help I have recently seen demonstrated in a marked degree.”
“He is one of the ‘salt of the earth,’.rdquo; replied Winthrop, enthusiastically, “he is not only a sunny day friend, but one in the hour of need—indeed, he is a man among men. By the way,” he continued, “I want to congratulate you with all my heart on the great Gray Rocks strike.”
“Thank you,” replied Vance, “the prosperity could never have come at a more opportune time. My finances was reduced to the last dollar when Colonel Bonifield broke the news to me.”
“I received your letter, written some ten days ago,” said Winthrop, “and have sold those twenty-five lots your New York friends purchased.”
“Thank God for that!” ejaculated Vance.
“Yes, I sold them for $800 apiece, or $20,000. As they only paid $2,500 for them, I hardly think they can complain at the profits. Oh, you have no idea what a city Waterville has become. The great waterpower has been effectually harnessed, the streets are paved; electric car lines, planing mills, and scores of other manufacturing concerns are in full operation. Our population is now numbered by thousands, instead of hundreds, while busy activity and prosperity are apparent on every hand.”
“You quite astonish me, old fellow,” replied Vance, “indeed you do; but I needed no greater proof of Waterville’s prosperity than your report of the sale of lots belonging to my New York friends. Once, old fellow, I gave you my promise to wait five years before passing judgment on your enterprise. Hardly half that time has elapsed, yet it gives me pleasure to assure you that I am already better satisfied with Waterville than I ever dared hope for.”
“Thank you,” said Homer, “your ‘Two Honorable Exceptions’ article in the New York Banner was indeed prophetic.”
“Yes,” said Vance, “while the prophecies of Col. Alexander, B. Webster Legal, Gen. Ira House, and other members of your Waterville Town Company, have been more than realized.”
“My associates,” said Homer, “in the great work of building up Waterville, have at last met with a compensation which I cannot but feel is a just one. Taking it all and all, they are a grand lot of fellows, each one a study within himself; nevertheless, collectively a phalanx of strength.”
“By the way,” he continued, “it was my noble little wife, Virgie, that started the boom last spring. She learned in some mysterious way that a private school fund had been created for her special benefit, and in order to return the money, purchased the first lots that we had sold for months and months, and from that day the boom started, until now—well, you’ll have to see the place to realize the wonderful changes and improvements.”
"Hers,” said Vance, “is certainty a sweet and noble character.”
“Yes, indeed,” replied Winthrop, laughingly, “I still think she is the most practical member of the Bonifield family.”
“Indeed,” said Vance, “I remember the allusion, and I beg to assure you that my opinion remains unchanged in regard to Louise.”
“I notice,” said Winthrop, “that our old acquaintance, J. Arthur Boast, has had quite a rise in the world—at the head of the Peacock mine, I understand.”
“Yes,” replied Vance, while a sorrowful expression swept over his face, “I fear his rise preceeds a mighty fall. Gibbons and Casey have been arrested for the Grim murder, but have given bonds, and are waiting for their attorney, B. Webster Legal, and to use one of Steve Gibbons’ expressions, ‘Things are liable to be sizzlin’ hot for Boast before long. ‘”
“Why,” interrupted Winthrop, “you cannot mean—”
“Yes,” continued Vance, “I do mean that J. Arthur Boast murdered Rufus Grim. I have the evidence. Hank Casey saw the act.”
“Why, you astonish me!”
“Casey,” continued Vance, “was at first afraid to report the matter, nor did he until he went to Waterville. You were away at the time, and he confided to Mr. Donald. His own and Steve Gibbons’ long years of warfare with Grim over the Peacock, he was afraid, would cause people to suspect them of the crime. He divined rightly. There is a great prejudice against both of them.”
“I never was more surprised in my life!” said Winthrop, "and while I never liked the fellow, yet I had no idea he would commit murder.”
The next day a warrant was issued for the arrest of J. Arthur Boast, charging him with the murder of Rufus Grim. A most diligent search was made, but the officer was unable to find him. His wife was in tears and prostrated with grief, declaring she had no idea of his whereabouts.
It was the morning before Thanksgiving that Vance received a certain letter. It was from Arthur Boast, and read as follows:
At Home.
Dear Sir:
Why I write to you above all others, is more than I can tell. An impulse, actuated by some wandering spirit from the regions of darkness and the damned, forces me to it. The things I want to do, I am unable to accomplish. The acts I loathe and abhor, I am made a cat’s-paw of to perform by some unknown impelling force.
It may be that some men can shape their own destiny—mine has been shaped for me.
I have never seen the time I did not fear you, and cannot remember the time I did not hate and despise you. I sought your friendship for protection. When I needed your support, you turned against me.
Rufus Grim was my evil genius in this life, and he is more unbearable dead than living. Every night since I murdered him—yes, it was I who did the deed—he has visited me in my dreams All night long he walks up and down my bed-room—back and forth—and curses me. Sometimes I pull the covers well over my head, and try to sleep, but he pulls them off and rubs his cold, clammy hands threateningly over my face. He has found out also that I robbed the stage coach and bribed the sheriff.
I am tired of it all. I have not slept for ten nights. My brain is on fire. You want vengeance, but I intend to cheat you—yes? I will cheat you—and in this way I find my only consolation.
An hour ago my attorney came to my hiding-place, and told me the higher courts had reversed the decision. When this is known all Gold Bluff will turn against me. Even now I can hear them hissing the words. Scoundrel! scoundrel! murderer! murderer! in tantalizing scorn.
My ambition has always been to be wealthy. Now I am so poor that if I continued to live and was not hunted down and sent to prison, I would not even have a crust of bread to eat.
Yes, Gibbons and Casey are now the owners of the Peacock mine—the higher courts have so decided. With their money, they’ll join you in persecuting me—but I’ll cheat them as well as you. Your longing for revenge shall not be satisfied.
At the old prospect shaft on the Peacock, where I struck the fatal blow that hurled Rufus Grim into eternity, you will find all that remains of the persecuted, despised and hated.
J. Arthur Boast.
To Vance Gilder.
A search was at once made, and his lifeless body found near the old prospect shaft.
A bullet wound in his temple, and the weapon still clutched in his hand, told of the maniac’s suicide.
The people of Gold Bluff were astonished at the rapidity with which history was being made. The sheriff was missing, and his absence gave color to Boast’s statement about the sheriff being an accomplice in the stage robbery.
The undisputed owners of the Peacock mine, Casey and Gibbons, the multi-millionaires, were entirely vindicated by Boast’s letter, and not a shadow of suspicion rested against them; indeed, the citizens of Gold Bluff suddenly remembered that Mr. Henry Casey and Stephen Gibbons, Esq., were most excellent gentlemen. It was astonishing to find how many “friends” flocked around them to tender their congratulations.
It was Thanksgiving night, and Vance, with the members of the Bonifield household, was seated before the open grate, where a cheerful fire burned brightly. They had been talking it all over, and the Colonel, in a subdued but satisfied way, thanked God that he had been permitted to live long enough to see a fulfillment of his life’s dream.
Both Louise and Virgie were animated and happy, and Homer Winthrop had been dilating upon Waterville’s wonderful prosperity.
Presently the door opened, and Aunt Sally came in. “Good evenin’, Mr. Gilder,” said she, in her rich Southern accent, “I ‘low this is the happiest day of our lives.”
“Yes, indeed,” replied Vance, “we owe many apologies to your brother for our seeming lack of confidence in Gray Rocks.”
She looked at him quickly over her spectacles, and replied, “Lack of confidence, Mr. Gilder? I’d like to know who lacked confidence in my brother Benjamin’s mine! Fo’ myself, I have believed from the first that Benjamin would strike it if I could only keep him workin’ away long enough.”
Vance was non-plussed, and was about to reply, when the Colonel interposed. “Yo’ see, suh,” said he, with a knowing twinkle in his eye, “I have often obse’ved to yo’ that my sisteh is a most ext’ao’dina’y person; yes, suh, most ext’ao’dina’y indeed. She has been a powehful support to me, suh, in my effo’ts.”
This seemed to partially pacify Aunt Sally. Presently she said, “I ‘spect, Mr. Gilder, yo’ are thinkin’ ‘bout a convehsation we had a few months ago in regard to sinkin’ the shaft. Of cou’se yo’ didn’t know how much strategy I had to resort to that I might keep Benjamin from getting disheartened. Of cou’se I won’t allow nobody to say anythin’ against my brother, but I ‘low he is the contrariest man livin’, I do indeed, suh. Time and again I have been fo’ced to pretend that I was opposin’ him, just to make him go on work in’ and sinkin’ that shaft, but at last it is all over with, and I’ve much to be thankful fo’ that I was spared so that I could keep on naggin’ at Benjamin and spurrin’ him up, until finally his effo’ts were rewa’ded.” Soon after, she embraced Louise and Virgie tenderly, and retired.
When she was gone, the Colonel looked up from the crackling fire, into which he had been gazing long and earnestly, and said, “I presume, Mr. Gilder, my sisteh is without question one of the greatest characters that ever lived, I do indeed, suh. I’m discoverin’, even to this day, new traits of superio’ity and strength in her. Indeed, suh, she is no o’dina’y woman. Though bawn in the South, and possessin’ in a high degree the very great refinement peculiar to our Southern ladies, yet at the same time her diplomacy in accomplishin’ great results equals the shrewdest Nawthe’n Yankee. Indeed, suh, she is a most rema’kable character; yes, suh, most rema’kable.” A little later Homer and Virgie retired, pleading weariness. “Do you know,” said Colonel Bonifield, looking up from the fire again, “since our great discovery was made, I seem to want to do all my sleeping in the mawnin’.”
“Papa,” said Louise, “is too busy thinking over and over again his great good fortune to get sleepy; but my! how late he does sleep in the morning!”
“He has justly earned,” said Vance, “the rest he claims.’
“Indeed he has,” replied Louise, approaching her father and pushing gently back his long white locks, “you are my darling old papa,” she continued in a caressing way, “and may sit up as late as you like, and sleep until noon every day if it is your wish.”
“I’ll tell yo’, Mr. Gilder,” said the Colonel, rising and standing before the fire, “this little girl of mine is bound to spoil me; yes, suh; she always did humor me eveh since I can remembeh, and she is worse now than eveh befo’ Well, well, you’ll have to excuse me until I have another pipe of tobacco.” His elegant suit of black of the latest pattern added to his dignified appearance, and made a strange contrast, Vance thought, with the miner’s garb he had worn for so many years. He pushed through the portieres that opened into the library, and Louise and Vance were left alone, for the first time since the rich discovery had been announced.
A doubt came into Vance’s mind whether he was glad of it or not. Heretofore this noble girl whom he had loved so long and patiently had been in a measure dependent upon him—now she was an heiress. He fancied he detected a restraint in her conversation that was embarrassing. His own unworthiness rose up before him, and he was engulfed in the cowardice of a lover! What if she should refuse him? Cross-cutting into a pinched-out vein would be nothing in comparison with such a disappointment. Presently, at his request, she went to the piano, and sang for him.
She sang with far more feeling than ever before. Her heart was filled with a maiden’s dearest happiness—a deep, reciprocal, unspoken love of limitless depth. Yes, with the unerring divination of a woman, she knew that Vance’s love was wholly hers. There was a love song before her, and under its cover, she would declare her own without restraint. She sang with the rapture of a mountain thrush, in notes so rich, so innocent, so plaintively low, so delightfully thrilling.
Vance listened with bated breath. There are pleasures so keen as to be painful. “I am so inferior to her,” he thought, with unselfish humility, “but to live without her is impossible.” Finally she ceased playing and turned toward him with the music of her soul radiant upon her face. A momentary silence followed.
“Louise," said Vance, and there was a tremulous rhythm in his voice, notwithstanding he tried to crush it into naturalness, “it may be news to you, but I can no more help loving you than I can help breathing.” He walked back and forth before the open grate. “Please do not look away from me,” he went on, “as if I were so unworthy—I know that well enough. I would rather love you without hope than have the unselfish devotion of all the other women of the earth at my feet.”
She had lifted her hands and covered her face. Her happiness was very great. She fears he would see it, vet he must know it, else she would be miserable.
“What I have said,” Vance went on, “may be nothing to you, but it is either life or death to me. To-morrow I shall leave Gold Bluff for ever unless you wish me to remain.” Vance stood before the open grate still and motionless, and when she looked up, she saw his face was white as marble. She rose from the piano with tear-stained cheeks, flushing pink as La France roses with morning dew-drops upon them. She came forward a few steps, and then paused. Her golden wealth of hair reflected the forelight, and made a halo about her girlish face and form. Her full red lips were parted with the tender smile of youth, purity and love. She was thinking, “I am certain of his love; I am sure of mine for him, and I will give myself entirely, yes, wholly into his keeping.” With one hand over her beating heart, she held the other toward Vance. In a moment he was by her side, and raising her hand, pressed it passionately to his lips. In the deliciousness of love’s dream, he led her to a divan and seated himself beside her. His arms stole about her, her head rested on her breast, and there a devout lover’s affection was sealed with love’s first kiss.
A moment later the portieres parted, and in the doorway stood the Colonel. His long white hair fell back from his temples, and there was a look of gladness upon his countenance. He lifted up his face toward Heaven, and in tones that were scarcely audible, said: “Such tender and sacred things of earth are sanctified in Heaven.”
Yes, again the Shuttle of Fate wove into the web of Destiny the better attributes of a manly man and the ennobling love of a gentle woman.
