“I wish I could believe your philosophy,” said Boast. “The dual nature in me continually divides me.
I go to sleep at night filled with the most laudable ambitions; I wake up the next morning and pursue an entirely different course, and therein lies the conflict—but I know, Mr. Gilder, I am boring you.”
Vance assured him that he was not, but soon afterward took his leave, and as he walked along toward his home, he mused thoughtfully over his interview with J. Arthur Boast. What a different light had been thrown on his character! “Yes,” said he, “I will be his friend. I have misunderstood him.”
The next morning the town was startled by the announcement that Mrs. Grim was dead. The church bell tolled fifty-six times. Bertha Allen was prostrated with grief, while the rich mine owner had the entire sympathy of the people of Gold Bluff. Rufus Grim did nothing by halves, and there could not have been a more splendid show of grief than that for which his arrangements provided.
The works on the Peacock were stopped, and the men, on full pay, invited to the funeral. It was an imposing affair. The crape on Mr. Grim’s hat was of the widest pattern, and jet studs took the place of his diamond. His black suit fit his plump form well, and he seemed subdued with genuine grief. Bertha Allen looked very fair and interesting in her costume of black. She clung dependently to Mr. Grim’s arm during the burial service, and looked unusually pretty, notwithstanding the marks of grief and weeping upon her handsome face; indeed, she enlisted the sympathy of all who saw her.
The following day work on the Peacock was started up again, and the deep, resounding blasts down below the earth’s surface told of more gold flowing towards the coffers of Rufus Grim.
The machinery in Gray Rocks mine had been behaving badly. Several big breaks had occurred, and work had been delayed at one time for two weeks. The days glided by, and October had come again. The rocks high up the mountain, overlooking Gold Bluff, reflected the autumn sun, while the forests on the mountain side were ablaze with fiery autumn tints—nature’s superb clothing.