“If things had been different,” he remarked to himself; “if I had been in a position to offer her decent conditions, I would have followed up the lead. And I would have won.” He turned the incident on the river bank over in his mind, and a faint smile played along his lips. “I would have won. But I couldn’t bring her here.... It’s the first time I ever felt that money could really contribute to happiness. Well—I was happy before I met her; I can be happy still. This little episode....”
He crossed the room and picked up the newspaper he had thrown away; he crumpled it in his hand as he approached the stove. It said the bride was beautiful—the happy couple—the groom, prosperous young contractor—California—three months.... He turned to the table, smoothed out the paper, and studied it again. Of course he had heard the whole thing from the Landsons; they had done Y.D. and his daughter justice. He clipped the article carefully from the sheet and folded it away in a little book on the shelf.
Then he told himself that Zen had been swept from his mind; that if ever they should meet—and he dallied a moment with that possibility—they would shake hands and say some decent, insipid things and part as people who had never met before. Only they would know....
Grant occupied himself with the work of the ranch that winter, spring, and summer. Occasional news of Mrs. Transley filtered through; she was too prominent a character in that countryside to be lost track of in a season. But anything which reached Grant came through accidental channels; he sought no information of her, and turned a deaf ear, almost, to what he heard. Then in the fall came an incident which immediately changed the course of his career.
It came in the form of an important-looking letter with an eastern postmark. It had been delivered with other mail at the house, and Landson himself brought it down. Grant read it and at first stared at it somewhat blankly, as one not taking in its full portent.
“Not bad news, I hope?” said his employer, cloaking his curiosity in commiseration.
“Rather,” Grant admitted, and handed him the letter. Landson read:
“It is our duty to place before you information which must be of a very distressing nature, and which at the same time will have the effect of greatly increasing your responsibilities and opportunities. Unless you have happened to see the brief despatches which have appeared in the Press this letter will doubtless be the first intimation to you that your father and younger brother Roy were the victims of a most regrettable accident while motoring on a brief holiday in the South. The automobile in which they were travelling was struck by a fast train, and both of them received injuries from which they succumbed almost immediately.
“Your father, by his will, left all his property, aside from certain behests to charity, to his son Roy, but Roy had no will, and as he was unmarried, and as there are no other surviving members of the family except yourself, the entire estate, less the behests already referred to, descends to you. We have not yet attempted an appraisal, but you will know that the amount is very considerable indeed. In recent years your father’s business undertakings were remarkably successful, and we think we may conservatively suggest that the amount of the estate will be very much greater than even you may anticipate.
“The brokerage firm which your father founded is, temporarily, without a head. You have had some experience in your father’s office, and as his solicitors for many years, we take the liberty of suggesting that you should immediately assume control of the business. A faithful staff are at present continuing it to the best of their ability, but you will understand that a permanent organization must be effected at as early a date as may be possible.