It is said that trifles determine our course in life, that, like chips floating down the stream, we are moved hither and yon by imperceptible forces. If it is so with one, it is with all, and was so with the people of Rockhaven, and their estimate and subsequent opinion of Winn Hardy. He attended that poor little church that day out of kindly regard for Mrs. Moore's wishes, he listened patiently to services and the sermon, only a few sentences of which interested him, and, of course, conducted himself as any well-behaved and well-bred young man would. And yet that trivial act was the starting-point in the good will and confidence of those people, the worth of which he realized not at all then and never fully until long afterward.
Neither was he entitled to special credit for his self-sacrifice, except it be that his desire to please that worthy matron, Mrs. Moore, overcame his selfishness. But whether or not, it led to immediate, though minor reward, for late that afternoon, and upon his return from a short stroll over Norse Hill, he found her on the porch of the white cottage next to her home, chatting with the two ladies he met at church, and he was invited to join them. How cordially the two elderly ladies endeavored to interest him and what a soft witchery the dark eyes of the younger one held for him need not be enlarged upon. It mattered not that Mrs. Moore and Mrs. Hutton were neither cultured nor fashionable; they were at least sincere in their enjoyment of his society and meant what they uttered, which is more than can be said of many women of position. He learned that the girl's name was Mona, that she had never been away from the island, and, as might be expected, was somewhat bashful and a little afraid of him. He had a mind to ask her if she played the violin, but a romantic desire to surprise her, or whoever the mysterious violinist was, restrained him.
The stars were out, a perfect quietude had fallen upon the little village, and only the ceaseless murmur of the near-by ocean whispered in the still air, when Mrs. Moore arose to go, and, much against his will, Winn felt compelled to follow.
In his room he smoked for an hour in solitude, buoyant with hope for his own future, amply satisfied with the business and social progress he had so far made, and mentally contrasting the life he had left behind him with the new one he had entered upon; and into these meditations, it must be stated, came the faces of Ethel Sherman and Mona Hutton.
And so ended Winn's first Sunday on Rockhaven.
CHAPTER VIII
THE HAND OF FATE
For a few days Winn Hardy was the busiest man on Rockhaven. What with setting up the steam drill that had been sent him, finding a man to work it, adjusting the derricks, and laying out work for the dozen men Jess had secured, he had no more time than occasionally to think of who the mysterious violin-playing maid might be. He arose early, worked late, and evenings wrote his firm a detailed statement of his progress, or discussed matters with Jess at the store. By tacit consent that had become a sort of office for the Rockhaven Granite Company, and evening lounging place for not only the men who were at work for Winn, but others interested in the new enterprise, and, in fact, all who were not away on fishing trips.
Here, also, Winn met the Rev. Jason Bush, a worthy, if attenuated, parson and pedagogue, who had so astonished Winn that first Sunday and who seemed more interested than any one else in the quarry. It was all the more pleasant experience to Winn, thus to feel that he was bringing a business blessing to these hard-working and needy people, and the barometer of his hopes and spirits was at top notch when Friday came and with it funds from the firm to pay the men. He felt, indeed, that his mission was bearing excellent fruit.