"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.