C. B. simply could not believe the plain statement made, though it was impossible to misunderstand it. So he handed the letter to Captain Taber, who read and murmured, “Thank God. You see,” he went on to C. B., “that money can do something. I was dreading in every fibre of my bones that awful journey home, and here with a stroke of his pen one of our many wealthy friends, who does not think enough of the act to let us know who he is so that we may thank him, makes the way smooth and plain for us from the Pacific to the Atlantic. Ah me, I’m being highly favoured, and I more than half suspect that I ought to thank you for it. Now don’t get up on your hind legs and make a fuss, because I feel sure I’m right.”
The skipper of the Golden Gate was called in consultation, and he agreed that this royal courtesy must have been paid by one of the passengers who wished to remain unknown. And he said that he could not help wishing that he was coming with them, for his wife was in Liverpool, and he had not seen her for three years, while such a chance might never occur again as long as he lived. Be sure that C. B. cordially echoed the captain’s wish, for he dreaded the ordeal which he felt awaited him more than he had ever feared anything before, but only because of his anxiety for the helpless man under his charge.
However, as in all such cases, there was little time for regrets or speculation, the time pressed and departure could not be delayed. So gathering all together C. B. and his charge were conveyed ashore, and through the turbulent life of the city to the station, or dépôt as it is called in the United States. The driver of the conveyance they chartered upon getting ashore knew his business thoroughly and took them straight to where the private car was standing in lonely majesty, side tracked. And as they drew up alongside of it there appeared, to their intense astonishment, the gaunt form of Mr. Stewart, who was accompanied by his daughter.
A look of perfect satisfaction was upon both their faces which changed into an amused smile as they noted the stare of perfect bewilderment upon the countenance of C. B. It remained there until Captain Taber said, “Come, Christmas, what’s wrong with ye? have ye seen a ghost?” Then C. B. started, apologized, and explained that somehow he had never expected to see any of the ship’s late company again; he felt that they were scattered far and wide. Then Mr. Stewart, having seen the captain carefully placed within the palatial car and made comfortable on the beautifully upholstered lounge with plenty of soft cushions, sat down by his side, while C. B. stood looking around him in dumbfounded amazement at the somewhat crude splendours of the car.
Beckoning his daughter to a seat by his side the worthy American began his explanation by saying—
“When I learned that you had been invited to make the journey across the Continent in a private car I hoped that you would have had company that would be helpful to you. And just as I heard that you were going alone I received a telegram from Boston, calling me over there on urgent business, so I calculated that perhaps you wouldn’t mind my daughter and myself being your guests for a week. We may be of some use if you can put up with us.”
Captain Taber turned upon the speaker a look of grateful affection and murmured—
“Don’t be afraid, Mr. Stewart, that I shall make a fuss, but do let me say God bless you for your lovingkindness in lending us this car, for I knew it was yours as soon as I heard the name, and for watching over us since. He,” jerking his thumb in C. B.’s direction, “won’t bother you, I know, won’t bother his head a little bit to whom the car belongs, looks upon the whole affair as just another instance of God Almighty’s particular care. I confess I can’t think yet that the Lord looks after me to that extent, and yet I don’t know but what I will before long. If anything could make me it would be association with that fellow. He’s—but there, I can’t talk about him without kinder choking! Must be getting weak in the head.”
Then they passed to other topics, Mr. Stewart proving himself to be a golden talker upon an immense variety of subjects, while the car, having been very gently attached to the engine, began to glide out of the station with an easy motion almost akin to that of a ship, the great machine being beautifully balanced upon many springs so that even the casually laid road-bed did not make it jolt, only sway and roll slightly, keeping up the nautical comparison. Meanwhile Miss Stewart had taken C. B. out upon the observation platform and was pointing out to him the various wonders through which they were passing, finding intense enjoyment in his utter bewilderment and childlike curiosity. And when it dawned upon her that he had never even seen a railroad before, hardly realized that such a thing existed, she experienced all the pleasure of a generous nature at being able to give another such a novel series of delightful new sensations.
And such sensations! C. B. was always so calm and satisfied with the way that he believed God was leading him that any one, even his intimate friends, might have been forgiven for calling him stolid, unimpressionable, really not competent to feel very much. But then no one could enter into the quiet sanctuary of his mind where sat enthroned his Eternal Friend and Guide. Occasionally, as Miss Stewart pointed out to him some new marvel of Nature, such as travellers have long chanted the praise of, on that wonderful railroad line from San Francisco to New York, he would hold up his hands and murmur—