The Speculations of Jack Steele/Chapter 6
VI.—THE RICHEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD.
THE CLEARING in the primeval forest had been only partial, for several tall trees were left standing here and there, grouped around a log-house. The house itself, to a casual observer, resembled the dwelling of an ordinary pioneer, except that it was much larger than any residence a poor woodman was likely to erect. It was built of great pine logs, the ends roughly dovetailed together with a woodman's axe. Where log lay on log, the interstices were plastered with clay. A broad verandah ran completely round the oblong building, a luxury which the pioneer would have denied himself. A settler would also have been contented to cover his roof with split oak clapboards, but here the refinement of yellow pine shingles was used, which not only kept out the weather better than the pioneer's economical device, but caused the tone of the broad roof to harmonise well with the hue of the bark on the logs; and as one approached the edifice from the forest, the whole structure, standing out against the background of deep blue afforded by the lake and sky, formed a more pleasing colour scheme than might have been expected where contrasts were so vivid in that translucent air. Around the large log-house were grouped many other log-buildings, with no attempt at regulation and order. Each one appeared to have been put up as needed, and these ranged from an ordinary outhouse or shed, to complete residences. A few hundred yards away from the verandah of the house, down a sloping lawn, lay sands of dazzling whiteness, and along these sands rippled the smallest waves of the largest lake in the world.
No such body of fresh water as Lake Superior exists anywhere else on earth. The water in bulk is blue; taken in detail, it is almost invisible; and this was strikingly illustrated by an adjunct of civilisation which no stretch of the imagination could attach to pioneer days. Anchored in the bay floated a large white steam-yacht, with two funnels and two slender, sloping masts. It seemed resting, not on the surface of the lake, but in mid-air, for the details of the twin screws, the long, level keel, and submerged part of the prow were as plain to the eye as the upper works or the funnels or the masts. The waters of this thousand-feet deep lake are so cold that anyone who drops overboard is given up as lost. The Arctic chill of the crystal fluid, even in midsummer, is so great that it instantly paralyses effort, and the man sinks never to rise again, for the bodies of the drowned remain for ever in those depths.
To the south and east and west, this little oasis of civilisation was walled in by the eternal forest. To the north, blue lake and blue sky blended together. On this day in late summer the place was a Paradise of solitude. The great lake, which on occasion could raise a storm that might swamp an Atlantic liner, was now placid and on its good behaviour. The only sounds were the gentle whisper of the leaves in the forest and the impatient pawing of a horse, which a groom held, saddled, by the southern verandah.
Through the open doorway there presently emerged a young woman, in a tight-fitting riding-habit, so short in the skirt that it appeared more like a walking-dress than a costume for an equestrienne. The girl seemed very slight, and not as tall as the average woman. In spite of the frown on her brow, the face was redeemed from absolute ugliness by some indescribable spiritual intellectuality which beamed from it. The whole figure gave an impression of darkness. The hair was black, the complexion almost that of a North American Indian. The eyes of velvet midnight could sparkle with dark anger, but at times would melt into a glance of appeal that was strangely pathetic, which partially redeemed the harshness of the other features. The costume was of unrelieved black, but the attention of a stranger invariably returned again and again to the face, puzzled by it. It seemed to stamp its owner as querulous, fretful, supremely selfish perhaps, caring nothing for the feelings of others. She spoke with cutting sharpness to her groom, who had not placed the horse to please her. The man did his best, but the animal was restive from its long wait, and with a snarl of impatience at what she called the stupidity of the groom, the girl sprang with great dexterity into her saddle, gathered the reins in her left hand, and struck the animal a savage blow on the flank with her whip. The horse snorted and reared, pawing the air, and again the whip descended. Now he tried to bolt, but she held him firmly, in spite of her seemingly slight physique, and at last the frightened horse stood there trembling, but mastered.
"Shall I follow you, madam?" inquired the groom.
"Don't ask unnecessary questions!" snapped the girl, scowling at him as if she were in half a mind to hit him as well as the horse with the whip. "If I wished you to follow me, I should have told you so."
The cringing groom raised his forefinger to the peak of his cap and slunk away. The horse would have cantered, feeling the exhilaration of the air and the delight of the day in its supple limbs, but the girl appeared to take a grim pleasure in restraining the ardour of her steed and forcing him to a slow walk. The horse-woman certainly rode well and looked well the saddle, but in her face was marred by an expression of chronic discontent, which perhaps had a right to be there, for she was accounted the richest woman in the world, living what she supposed to be the simple life.
Constance Berrington was one of those unhappy persons whose every wish had been gratified almost before it could be expressed. Slight as she appeared, her health was excellent, and she had never yet come upon a crisis in life which money could not smooth away. It would have done her a world of good to be compelled to earn her living for a year, and meet a section of humanity she had never yet encountered, who cared not a rap whether she lived or died. But at this moment, when her ill-temper caused her to curb the eager horse to a slow walk, she was playing into the hands of the enemy in a manner that would have startled her had she but known.
Parallel with her course, a stooping man dodged from tree to tree. There was something of the stealthiness of the savage about him, and he took all the precautions of a savage to avoid observation—precautions that were unnecessary in this case, for the girl was absorbed in the conquering of her horse, and the horse's own hoofs in the pine needles made noise enough to render inaudible the footsteps of the pursuer. For more than a mile the conscious hunter and the unconscious hunted kept their course. The ground rose perceptibly all the way, but at last became tolerably level, and then the girl shook out the reins and settled herself for a gallop. But at that instant, the wary pursuer, who day after day during the past month had been baffled by the speed of the horse, sprang out from behind a tree and seized the bridle near the bit. The face of the woman became a shade less swarthy with the sudden fright of this assault, and although she did not cry out or scream, her inward panic was in no way lessened by the sight of the countenance turned upon her. The complexion had the pallor of one risen from the dead, the colourless lips were compressed, and the features drawn and haggard, like those of a man in the last stages of starvation. All the life of this person seemed concentrated in his eyes, which glowed upon her with the fierce light of lunacy.
"Let go my horse!" she said in a low, tense voice.
The man tightened his grip.
"Keep quiet!" he snarled.
She raised her arm and struck the animal with all the force at her command, then with both hands jerked the reins and tried to ride down her obstructor. The horse reared and for a brief second lifted the man off his feet; but he held on, and horse and man came to the ground together.
"By Heaven!" he cried, "if you try to do a trick like that again, I'll throw both you and the horse, and break your cursed neck! Drop that whip, you vixen!"
Instead of dropping it, she raised it again, leaning forward this time to strike the man; but he sprang towards her, holding the rein in his right hand, and with his left caught the whip as it descended, and wrenched it rudely from her grasp. For a moment she thought he was about to strike her, and her arm rose waveringly to protect her face.
"Will you keep still?" he demanded.
"If you want money," she said in the quiet, semi-contemptuous tone with which she would have addressed a beggar, "you might have the sense to know that I carry none with me in the forest."
"I want money," he replied, "and I have the sense to know you carry none with you."
"Then how do you expect to obtain it by this violence?"
"That I shall have the pleasure of explaining to you a little further on."
She folded her empty hands on her knee, now that he was possessed of both whip and rein.
"I advise you, sir, to turn my horse's head in the other direction, and warn you that you will make less by threats than by trusting to my good will."
"I reject your advice, Miss Berrington. The philanthropy of your family is well-known and widely advertised. Your good deeds rise up and call you blessed; but I am not an object of charity, although I may look it. The sum which I demand I shall exact by coercion."
"Oh, very well. Set about it, then. Pray do not allow me to hinder you in the least."
"Thank you, Miss Berrington; you shall not."
Placing the riding-rein over his arm, he turned his back upon her and led the horse along the level towards the west for perhaps half a mile further, when he deflected to the right until they arrived at the top of a high cliff overlooking the lake. Neither had spoken a word during the journey, and Constance Berrington sat very rigidly on her led horse, like a clothed Lady Godiva, sans the beauty. The look of discontent, however, had vanished from her face, and the expression which took its place was not unpleasing.
At the cliff her leader stopped, swung round, and said gruffly: "Get down!" without, however, making any offer to assist her.
She sprang lightly from the saddle to the ground and stood there, as if awaiting further commands.
"Seat yourself on that log."
A fallen tree which one of the winter storms had uprooted lay with its branches far out over the chasm. The girl sat down on the trunk as she had been directed.
"I am John Steele, of Chicago," he said.
"That does not interest me," replied the young lady.
"Have you ever heard the name before?"
"No, and don't wish to hear it again."
"Six months ago I was worth ten millions."
"That does not interest me, either."
"You need not reiterate the statement, madam; I shall interest you before I am done with you."
"I wish you were not so slow about it, then."
"Do you know a man named Nicholson?"
"Yes."
"Nicholson tried first to ruin me and then to murder me."
The young man paused, as if to allow this startling sentence to produce its effect. The young woman's eyes were upon the ground, but after a few moments of silence she looked up at him with a languid air of indifference and said—
"Is this the interesting part? Is any comment expected of me? If so,I can only say that Mr. Nicholson is usually successful in what he attempts, and I deeply regret the failure of his second project. It would have saved me from a most unpleasant encounter."
"Quite so," said Steele, tightening his lips. "I am glad you take it that way. Nicholson, as, of course, you know, was acting for the organisation which, I understand, contributes some fifty millions a year towards your support. In spite of your humane wish, he failed in his two attempts, but his third conspiracy succeeded."
"Ah! you were right, Mr. Steele, you do interest me. What did he endeavour to do on the third occasion? Consign you to a lunatic asylum?"
"No. To tell you the truth, madam, I feared that would come of itself. The fact that I have not gone mad under the silent persecution I was called upon to endure leads me to suppose that I shall hereafter be proof against any malady of the mind."
"I do not in the least doubt that. Nothing can damage a sanity already destroyed. If you are not a lunatic, you are worse—a to offer violence cowardly hound who dares to an unprotected woman."
Slowly the colour mounted in John Steele's pale face, and a glint of admiration came into his eyes. The little woman was absolutely at his mercy, yet she said these words with perfect serenity and turned upon him a gaze that was quite fearless. He noticed now for the first time the gloomy depths of those dark eyes, and thought how much more steadfast and beautiful they were than the blue orbs which had crazed his brain on the plains.
"Not such a coward as you think me, madam. Now that we are entirely free from any chance of molestation, when you must recognise your own helplessness, I beg to assure you that I shall treat you with the utmost courtesy."
"Thank you. But let us get to the point. You are John Steele. You were worth ten millions. Nicholson plotted against you and rained you. Nicholson is one of the combination in New York from which I draw my money. In spite of what you say, you are too much of a coward to face Nicholson; therefore you have endeavoured to kidnap me and terrorise me into giving you a cheque for ten million dollars. How near am I right?"
"You are exactly right, madam."
"Very well. Although I am no admirer of Mr. Nicholson, nevertheless it is easy to see why he defeated you. A man who takes so long to reach the kernel of his business may be all very well in Chicago, but he has no right to pit himself against a citizen of New York. I refuse to give you one penny."
"Don't say 'give,' madam, I beg of you. 'Restore' is the word. As I told you, I am making no appeal to the renowned philanthropy of the Berringtons. My ten millions, although lost to me, has gone into the coffers of your company. You have no more right to it than I have to this horse. I have a right to it because I made it without cheating anybody. I made it legitimately. I demand it back."
"I have already refused. What is your next move?"
"My next move will take some little time to tell, and you are so impatient of my loquacity that I almost fear to venture"
"Oh, pray go on!" she cried wearily.
"Does the height make you dizzy? I should like to have you look over this cliff."
"It doesn't make me in the least dizzy. I know the cliff very well, and have been here many times. There are five or six hundred feet of sheer precipice, then a ledge of rock, then the lake."
"Yon have described it admirably, madam. Well, what I shall do is this. I possess, within a mile and a half of this place, a log-cabin not so large or comfortable as your house. I intend to take you there and to hold yon prisoner until I receive back what is mine."
"Mr. Nicholson would have mapped out a more feasible plan. How long do you think I shall remain captive without being found? To-morrow there will be a hue and cry after me—to-night, indeed, if I do not return. I shall be tracked by dogs, or an Indian will be got and put on the trail. Your scheme is absurd, Mr. Steele."
"You have forgotten the cliff, madam. I shall lead your horse to the edge of the cliff, strike him with your whip, and send him over. He will be dashed to death on the ledge six hundred feet below. The Indian or the dog will trace the horse to this cliff. It will be naturally supposed that you have been flung into the waters of the lake, which are another six hundred feet deep. Then the search will end, madam. Lake Superior never gives up its dead, and to dredge at that depth is impossible."
"I beg your pardon," she said; "your plan is better than I thought. There is just the risk that the horse, poor creature, may bound from the ledge into the lake, and in that case the search would not end at the cliff."
Saying this, she rose and walked bravely to the extreme edge, looking over,
"Don't go near!" cried John Steele, taking a step towards her. She paid no heed to him, and for a moment he held his breath in alarm as she walked along the very brink of the precipice. Then she turned listlessly.
"Alas!" she said, "the ledge is quite wide enough for your purpose."
"Oh, I have planned it all out," replied John, relief coming to his voice as she turned away from danger with her head lowered as if in deep thought. Then she took him entirely unawares. With a spring forward like that of a lynx, she jerked the reins from his unprepared hand. Flicking the horse sharply with the loose leather, making him snort and shy with fear, she then smote him with her open palms on the flank, and away he galloped in a panic of fright. The face she turned to the astonished man seemed transformed. The black eyes danced with delight. She sank to the log again, shaking with laughter.
"Oh, I was wrong, Mr. Steele, when I said you didn't interest me! You do, you do! I have never met so interesting a man before. In twenty minutes, or thereabouts, the riderless horse gallops into my courtyard. Now, Mr. John Steele, of Chicago, what is the next move?"
"Well, logically," said John Steele, unable to repress a smile, grave as was his situation and quick his recognition of its seriousness, "logically the next move should be for me to throw you over the cliff."
"No, that wouldn't be logical. It seems, to the poor reason that a woman possesses, Mr. Nicholson is the man who should be thrown over."
"I am rather inclined to agree with you, Miss Berrington; but, alas! Nicholson is in New York, and you are the only member of the company now in my power."
"Are you quite sure I am in your power?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Frankly, I'm inclined to doubt it."
"I haven't laughed for years," she said, "not since I was a girl."
"Oh, you're nothing more than a girl now."
"I'm afraid I act like it," she said, flushing slightly, and that evidently not from displeasure. "You are mistaken about Mr. Nicholson being in New York. Did you see that white yacht in front of my house?"
"Yes."
"Well, that belongs to Mr. Nicholson."
"Is he your guest?" asked John, the light of battle coming into his eyes.
"No, he is in Duluth. He went there a few days ago in his yacht, and sent the vessel back, in case I should wish a sail on the lake. Shall I arrange a meeting between you?"
"I suppose you will not credit me, Miss Berrington, when I tell you that I do not wish to meet Mr. Nicholson, and it is not cowardice which keeps me from the encounter. If I met him, I should kill him; then the law would hang me, and I have no desire to be executed."
"Oh, you are quite safe in Michigan," said the girl encouragingly; "there is no capital punishment in this State."
"I had forgotten about that, if I ever knew it. You see, I live in Illinois, and Nicholson lives in New York. In the one State they hang, and in the other they electrocute. It may be weak in me, but I shrink from either of those ordeals, much as I detest Nicholson."
The girl rose to her feet, put up both hands to her hair, and arranged the black tresses that had gone astray.
"How long have you possessed your log-cabin, Mr. Steele?"
"About two months. One month I have spent around your house watching for you; but you have always left on a gallop, or else that confounded groom of yours was following you, and I didn't want to hurt him. In truth. I didn't wish to hurt anybody."
"Poor man! have you been lingering in the forest all that time? No wonder you look like an escaped convict."
"Do I?" asked Jack in alarm, glancing down at his ragged garments. "I suppose I do. Since I came into the forest I have paid no attention to my personal appearance. Pray accept my apologies."
"Oh, don't mention it. I imagine you didn't expect to meet a lady."
"Well, I've been frustrated so often that I suppose I did not."
"You are, then, my nearest neighbour? By the rights of etiquette I should have made the first call, being the older resident. I think, however, Mr. Steele, that your methods of teaching me politeness to a new-comer were somewhat rough. So, if you will excuse me, I shall not go with you to your log-cabin this evening. It is getting late; see how low the sun has sunk, and how gloriously he lights up the lake."
"Yes," said John somewhat dolefully, "it reminds me of the copper situation here."
"It is copper that brings Mr. Nicholson to this district," she replied brightly, "although I suppose I should not tell that to an opposing speculator."
"Oh, hang Nicholson!" said Jack hastily; then: "Really, I beg your pardon, madam. I have been a savage these two months past, as you very rightly remarked."
"I was going to say," she went on, "that if you will waive etiquette and come and dine with me to-night, I shall be very glad of your company."
"Oh, really, Miss Berrington, that is heaping coals of fire on this touzled head of mine. I could not venture into a civilised household in these rags. I am sure you will excuse me."
"Indeed I shall not. I make a bold appeal to your gallantry. I do not know my way; I am certain to get lost in the forest. You see, my horse has always been my guide, and, entirely through your fault, my horse is no longer here to lead me through the woods; so please be my pathfinder."
"Certainly, certainly I'll lead you to the gates; but don't ask me to come in. I'm very much ashamed of myself, and I assure you that if your horse were here, I should help you to mount, and allow you to depart unscathed."
"You didn't help me to dismount," said the girl, glancing at him with eyes brimful of mischief, and laughing again.
With something of his old-time heartiness, Jack laughed at her readiness of repartee.
"Ah! you should not hold that against me. We were not acquainted then. It seems years ago, instead of minutes. I think if you and I had met when I first called on you, my later troubles would all have been averted."
"Oh, they did not tell me you had called."
"My visit was to your palace on Fifth Avenue, where I was received by a gorgeous individual with a Cockney accent, whose knowledge of geography was such that he supposed Lake Saratoga and Lake Superior were neighbours and about of a size."
"Really? You met Fletcher, then? Poor man, he is quite lost now, for I have him here with me in the woods. Nicholson brought him in the yacht. I rather suspect that the quiet Mr. Nicholson wishes to acquire this man's services; but, thank goodness, I can always outbid him, and Fletcher is peculiarly susceptible to the charms of money."
"Fletcher seems to be in demand, then?"
"Oh, he is most useful; but I fancy—which is a word he is very fond of—that he is very unhappy, for I have compelled him to abandon the gorgeous raiment and dress as a northern farmer. I fear I shall need to restore his plumage, for he seems to think he has lost caste entirely. I am unable to convince him that he has gained it; but perhaps when he sees you in such raiment, and learns you were worth ten millions six months ago, he will be reconciled."
They were walking homeward through the forest, but at this remark John stopped and said ruefully: "Look here, Miss Berrington, if you are merely taking me with you to show Fletcher how badly a man may be costumed, I shall at once return to my cabin, for I have another suit there. I think that allusion to my clothes was most unkind, just as I was trying to forget them."
"Indeed, I am going to turn you over to Fletcher, who will see that you are clothed, now that you are in your right mind. I think this is the spot where I first had the pleasure of meeting yon, Mr. Steele."
"Now, that's another subject you are not to refer to."
"Dear me, I must get you to write out a list of them," and the sprightly little woman looked up at him with merriment sparkling in her fine eyes. No one would have recognised her as the Tartar who a short time before had browbeaten her servant and lashed her horse.
A cry rang out through the forest.
"They are looking for me," she said. "Answer the call."
Jack Steele lifted up his voice and gave utterance to a piercing scream that rent the silence like the soul-scattering screech of a locomotive.
"Bless us and keep us!" cried Constance Berrington, covering her small ears with her small hands, "is that an Indian war-whoop, that once used to resound in this wilderness?"
"No, it's the acme of civilisation—merely a college yell. If any of your people are graduates of Chicago University, they'll recognise it."
The people who were not graduates of anything, except the college of hard labour, hurried to meet them with anxious faces.
"No, I am not in the least hurt," said Constance Berrington quite composedly. "I was merely compelled to dismount more rapidly than I usually do. Did the horse get home all right?"
"Yes, miss."
"Oh, then everything is as it should be. Luckily this gentleman was near by, and I came to no harm. Fletcher!"
The dejected, crestfallen man came slowly to the front, while she advanced a few rapid steps towards him, gave him some instructions in an undertone, and the search-party left under his leadership for the house, Steele and the girl following them at their leisure.
"How true it is that fine feathers make fine birds!" said Jack. "I never should have recognised Fletcher, whom I once took to be the finest specimen of our race."
"It's a poor rule that doesn't work both ways," laughed the girl. "Did you notice that Fletcher failed to recognise you?"
"Oh, I will go back and get that other suit!" cried Jack, coming to a standstill. "Don't wait dinner for me."
"Nonsense!" she said, letting her hand rest for one brief moment on his arm. "I didn't think men were so vain."
"I'm afraid you don't know much about them, Miss Berrington."
"I didn't until to-day. I've had my eyes opened."
"Well, I must make one proviso. You are to return my visit."
"Will you wear the other suit then?"
"Yes, I will; and besides that, I have a negro cook who can prepare a meal that will surprise you, in our neck of the woods."
"A negro cook? Dear me, I thought you were ruined!"
"Oh, well, in a manner of speaking, so I am, now you mention it; but still, let us live by the way, you know."
When they reached the clearing, Fletcher was awaiting them on the verandah.
"If you will come with me, sir," he said, "I shall take you to the guest-house."
"Dinner at seven. Fletcher will show you the way to the dining-room. Until then, au revoir!" and the girl disappeared into the log-house, while Fletcher escorted Steele to a building near by and ushered him into a sumptuous bedroom facing the lake. On the bed was laid out a dress-suit and all that pertained to it.
"I think you will find this about your size, sir. If not, I can get you one larger or smaller, as you wish."
"Good gracious! " said Jack, "do you keep a clothing store out here in the backwoods?"
"Well, sir, for a country 'ouse situated as this is"
"So far from London, eh?"
"Well, yes, sir, we are very well stocked, sir. And now, sir, if you'd like a hair-cut, or your beard trimmed"
"What! do you keep a barber, too? Thank Heaven!"
"Well, sir, you see, I used to be servant to General Sir Grundy Whitcombe, of the British Army, sir, and they do be particular."
"Do you mean to hint you can shave me, Fletcher, and cut my hair?"
"Oh, yes, sir."
"Well, now, Fletcher, you don't look like an angel, but that's exactly what you are. I'll have the beard cut away entirely, but leave the moustache where it is; and if you give me the hair-crop of a British general, why, I've nothing more to ask in this life."
"Very good, sir," consented the admirable Fletcher.
When he had finished, and Jack looked at the result in the mirror, he absent-mindedly thrust his hand into his pocket, but brought it forth empty. Fletcher was regarding him with admiration.
"By Jove!" cried the young man, "I haven't got a sou markee on me; but I won't forget you, Fletcher. I'll see you later, as we say out West, and you won't lose by it."
"Well, sir, I think I remember you now, sir; and if I may make so bold as to say it, sir, I'm already in your debt. Her Ladyship—I mean, Miss Berrington—being as she was thrown from her horse, sir, and you 'andy to 'elp 'er, you got the right kind of introduction, after all, sir."
"Ah, Fletcher, it seems like it, doesn't it?"
A great deal of nonsense has been written about the inartistic qualities of the modern dress-suit. The truth is that no other costume so befits a stalwart good-looking young man. It is in plain black and white, and has none of the effeminacy of lace and ruffles and colour which made a fop of the dandy centuries ago. There is a manly dignity about dinner-dress which nothing else can give—except, perhaps, a suit of armour, and that has its inconveniences at table.
When Miss Berrington entered the dining-room, and found her guest standing by the huge open log-fire, awaiting her, she stopped still for a moment in amazement, and then an expression of unqualified admiration came over her ever-changing face.
"Why—why" she hesitated, as he came eagerly forward with a smile to meet her, "is this really Mr. Steele?"
"It is Fletcher's Mr. Steele, madam. You have tamed the bear, Miss Berrington, and Fletcher has groomed him, that's all."
"I remember, Mr. Steele, that you interdicted the topic of costume; but may I be permitted the vanity of congratulating Fletcher and myself on our collaboration?"
Jack laughed as he led her to her place at the table.
"In my youth I read once of an enchanted land, presided over by a fairy princess, so gracious and so good that when outside barbarians wandered into her realm, they became what we would call civilised; but I never knew this land and this princess existed until to-day."
In the soft glow of the shaded candles the expressive face of the girl seemed almost handsome. She wore no jewels, but even the young man's uncritical eye could not mistake the richness and exquisite design of her evening-gown, which indicated that if this young woman shunned Society, she had certainly chosen an artist for her dressmaker.
The dinner was so excellent that Jack Steele regretted he had mentioned his negro cook. White fish from the icy waters of Lake Superior is unequalled by anything that swims, unless it be the brook-trout which the northern streams that enter Lake Superior produce. Wild turkey of the Michigan woods is world-renowned as the choicest of game.
Although Steele's hostess drank nothing but cold spring water, an ancient and renowned vintage sparkled at his right hand. It is little wonder that Jack, healthily hungry, was brilliant that evening as even he had never been before, and this poor, rich girl who listened, delighted and amazed, began to wonder if, after all, she had not missed a good deal out of life by flouting smart Society which she considered frivolous.
After dinner, Constance Berrington put a shawl over her shoulders and asked her guest if he would come outside and see the lake glittering in the moonlight. On the verandah he found the unique arrangement of an outside fireplace facing the platform, and in its depths roared a hickory fire, which burns with a flame bright as electric light, and leaves an ash white as flour. Two screens of sailcloth drawn like curtains along the roof of the verandah partially fenced in this snug spot, leaving it open only towards the lake. The white yacht lay like a liner's ghost on the silver sea, bathed in the light of the moon, and now and then the phantom ship gave forth melodious sounds as it chimed the hours in nautical fashion, the peal sweetly mellowed by the intervening water. Jack laughed in boyish glee to find himself in such a Paradise.
"I never saw anything so beautiful," he said; "nor have I ever known so ambitious a fireplace, trying to warm all outdoors."
Two rocking-chairs awaited them, and between these chairs stood a round table, on which the silent servant placed coffee and liqueurs. The hickory fire kindled a gleam of ineffable satisfaction in Jack's eyes when a box of prime cigars was placed before him.
"May I really smoke?" he asked, taking one between his fingers.
"I believe that is what they are for," replied the girl, with a smile, rocking gently to and fro. Then, when they were alone, she said seriously—
"Mr. Steele, I want you to tell me the particulars of the conspiracies you referred to, that proved so disastrous to you."
"Dear princess," he answered earnestly, "do you think I am going to talk finance in the land of enchantment? Not likely. Do monetary centres exist in the world? I don't believe it. Are people struggling anywhere to defeat each other? This silver silence denies it."
"But the silence is not going to deny me," she persisted. "I must know. You said I was responsible."
"I said such a thing? Never! That is a mistake in identity. You are thinking of the barbarian whom you quite justly tried to ride down in the forest. He said many stupid and false things, for which I refuse to assume responsibility. Reluctantly I admit that that barbarian was my ancestor, but a thousand years have passed since he lived, and I say the race has improved."
He blew a whiff of smoke into the still air and, watching it waft upward, murmured softly—
"And yet those wretched comic papers say a woman cannot choose cigars."
"I am glad they are good. It was not I who selected them, but Mr. Nicholson."
If some of the icy water of Lake Superior had unexpectedly dropped upon him, he could not have appeared more startled than at the mention of this name.
"Ye gods!" he whispered huskily, "I had forgotten that man existed! For years he has never been out of my mind before."
The girl's eloquent eyes were fixed upon him.
"The smoke has disappeared into the blue," she said, "but that name has brought you to earth again. Now tell me what he did."
"Miss Berrington," he went on solemnly, "you are no more responsible for what Mr. Nicholson did, than I am for the actions of the savage who seized your horse. Let me forget again that either the white Indian or the savage ever lived."
"No," she said, "you must tell me." And so he told her, sometimes puffing at his cigar like a steam-engine, again almost allowing it to go out. The narration was vivid, but possibly it might have been more interesting if he had not substituted the father for the daughter in Miss Alice Fuller's case. When the recital was finished, the girl shivered a little; and seeing he noticed it, she said—
"I think it is getting cold, in spite of our fire. And now I shall bid you 'Good night.' I have to thank you for the most interesting day and evening I ever spent in my life. Good night, and I hope you will not dream of Mr. Nicholson."
He rose and took the hand she offered, raising it, before she was aware, to his lips.
"Princess," he said, "I know of whom I shall dream."
She laughed a little and was gone.
When the maid had girded round her the soft and trailing dressing-gown, and bade her mistress 'Good night,' Constance Berrington opened the window, knelt down before it, placed her elbows on the low sill, with her chin on her open palms, and remained thus gazing at the moonlit lake. The ship of mist tolled the unheeded hours as on a silver chime. At last, with a sigh that seemed to end in a sob, she murmured—
"Oh, how beautiful the world is! and yet I never appreciated it before!"
Then she closed her window.
The informative Fletcher told Steele that the breakfast-hour was nine, and the grandfather clock was striking as he entered the dining-room next morning. The fragrance of the coffee-urn was stimulating to a man from the keen outer air, and the girl who presided over it turned towards him a smiling face, radiant as the dawn. Steele spread out his arms.
"What do you think of this?" he cried, jovial as a lad with a holiday. "This is the other suit."
"Dear me!" replied Constance Berrington. "How came it here?"
"I was up this morning before five, donned my rags, tramped to my hut, comforted my negro, who was nearly white with panic at my absence, put on the other suit, and here I am."
The breakfast was even more intimate and delightful than the dinner had been. Daylight had not removed the glamour of the moon from the land of enchantment. When the meal was finished, Constance Berrington rose and said—
"Before you go, I wish to show you my library."
He followed her into this attractive room, its walls lined with books. Here and there were cosy alcoves and recesses, with leather-covered easy-chairs that might have graced a metropolitan club.
"I never had much time for reading," he said, "and I do envy you this room. My own library is small, consisting mainly of books by friends of mine who kindly presented me with some of their writings."
"Then I wish you to accept a specimen of my works. My writings may not be very literary, but they are concise and to the point."
Here she placed a slip of paper before him, and glancing at it, he saw it was a cheque for ten millions. Then he looked up at her, a slow smile coming to his lips, and shook his head.
"Princess, this is for the savage, not for me. The savage is dead."
"You are his heir, remember."
"No, we are too far removed from each other, the savage and I. Remember the centuries between us, and less than ten years outlaws all claim."
"You must accept it. It is mere transference, as you quite rightly pointed out. It does not belong to me, but to you."
The young woman spoke with tense eagerness, and the former frown came into her brow before she had finished. He picked up the cheque.
"That's right," she said, with a sigh of relief; but the smile broadening, he slowly tore the signature from the cheque and placed her autograph in his pocket-book.
"Give me the hope that this may prove my return ticket to Paradise, and I am satisfied. Miss Berrington, you called me a coward yesterday, and you spoke the truth. I was, but I hope I am one no longer. I am young and reasonably ambitious. The world is before me. I shall begin where I began half-a-dozen years ago. I do not need your money."
"I shall write you another cheque—you must accept it."
"You dare not."
"Why?"
"Because I am your guest, and I forbid you. The rules of hospitality, madam, extend even to the land of enchantment."
"Is the guest so cruel, then"—there was a pathetic quaver in the voice—"as to leave his hostess to brood over this weight of obligation? Will he not thus, in the only possible way, lift that weight from her shoulders?"
"No!" cried Jack, coming swiftly round the table to her, "I shall lift her and the obligation together," and, suiting the action to the word, he picked her up as if she were a child and seated her on the table before him. "I'll not accept your cheque, but I ask you to accept me."
For an instant her eyes blazed up as if lighted from within, then dulled again. She did not in the least resent his boisterous action, but she shook her head and said—
"I shall never marry a man who is not in love with me, and I am too insignificant a woman for any man to love me for myself."
"Insignificant! Magnificent is the word! Why, Constance Berrington, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Your face makes every other in the world insipid. I'm not going to try and persuade you that I love you, because you know it. You knew it last night. You saw it in my eyes, and I saw the knowledge in yours. Curse the money! I'll make all the money I need if I have you by my side. What is money, anyhow? I've made it and lost it, and I can make it again and lose it again. Constance, let us take that yacht, go to Duluth, and be married before a magistrate for ten dollars, like a lumberman and his girl."
She looked up at him and smiled, then down again, then up once more, and he kissed her.
"Oh, don't!" she cried. "There is someone coming!"
A knock sounded at the door, and Miss Berrington sprang from the table.
"You have touched the electric bell that is under the carpet," she whispered quickly, with a nervous laugh; then "Come in!" she cried, and the servant entered.
"Did you ring, miss?"
"Yes, tell the captain to get the yacht ready. I am going to Duluth.