JOHN STEELE now entered upon a period of his life which was most
interesting and enjoyable. The numerous petty and annoying incidents
which had heretofore been the cause of friction between himself and his
numerous subordinates disappeared as the mist fades before the rising
sun, and he found himself at the head of as willing and energetic a
staff as any man could wish to have co-operate with him. With his chief
even the most captious of men could have no fault to find, and Steele
was far from being captious. T. Acton Blair seemed a changed man. No one
could be more genial and considerate. He even drifted into the habit of
calling his division superintendent “John.” Their business conferences
were of an exceedingly friendly and amiable character, and yet John
frequently censured himself when he detected deep down in his own nature
remnants of distrust still lingering regarding his urbane superior. Once
when Blair was gone rather longer than usual on a visit to New York,
some inquiries that came through caused him to surmise that Blair was
undermining him at headquarters, but on Blair’s return John felt rather
ashamed of himself. That good man had indeed mentioned him to the powers
that be, but the mention had been entirely to his advantage, with the
result that John got ten dollars a week added to his salary, quite
unsolicited. Blair almost apologised for his action, saying by way of
excuse that the road was really getting so prosperous, and had been so
free from disaster ever since Steele had joined it, that Rockervelt was
pluming himself on having chosen the right man once again.
“By the way,” said Blair casually, “Mr. Rockervelt informed me he had
read in the newspapers of your windfall. He asked me in what your money
was invested, but I was unable to tell him.”
“Most of it is in railway stocks,” replied Steele.
“Ah, that would have interested him. Are any of the Rockervelt stocks in
your safe deposit vault?”
John laughed.
“No, I don’t think I possess a single share, even in the Manateau
Midland. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make a transfer.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Blair, impartially. “Unless a man is a
professional speculator he generally loses in transferring his stock
from one interest to another. The broker usually gets a slice when this
happens. Still, I am sure Mr. Rockervelt would be rather pleased to hear
that you own stock in the Midland. He encourages that sort of thing,
especially among his higher officials, imagining quite rightly, perhaps,
that they are just a leetle more careful if they are part owners of the
road they operate. I think it’s a very good idea, myself; still, at the
present moment all the Rockervelt lines are booming, and I don’t know
any investment I could more cordially recommend. Still, I’m prejudiced
in the matter, so don’t let what I say influence you in the least. But
if you should buy a block of Midland, for instance, I wish you’d let me
know, so that when I am next in New York I can answer Mr. Rockervelt’s
former question. It certainly wouldn’t do you any harm with Rockervelt,
and there’s no better security on the market.”
The newspapers had made much of John Steele’s luck in falling heir to
a considerable sum of money. The circumstances and unexpected nature
of the legacy gave the item a semi-sensational value which was not
neglected by the reporters, and even if the amount was in many cases
exaggerated, the reputation of being a wealthy man revealed an entirely
new world to the young superintendent--the world of social life. He was
taken up by society with a warmth that was peculiarly gratifying to so
modest a man as John Steele, and for this taking-up T. Acton Blair
was largely responsible. On two or three occasions he invited John to
dinner, where the young man met many delightful people. He now saw a
side of Blair that had heretofore been entirely hidden from him, and, in
spite of Rockervelt’s former warning, quite unsuspected. Blair as a host
was one of the most charming of men; debonair and polite as a Frenchman;
a very prince of good fellows. His house was a veritable palace, and
when first John was ushered into the midst of its magnificence, it
seemed scarcely credible that a young nobody like himself, but a
few years past occupying a miserable position on the railway in the
prairies, should actually have browbeaten and defeated the owner of all
this wealth.
Blair evinced no rancour over this defeat, and Steele esteemed him a
human nettle, dangerous only when timorously handled. Steele was too
shrewd a man not to have recognised that he had discovered the weak spot
in Blairs armour, which was a fixed aversion against being brought into
conflict of any kind with the great Rockervelt, and this knowledge gave
the young man assurance that his position on the staff of the gigantic
corporation was more stable than he had hitherto regarded it. He now saw
Blair as a genial, easy-going man, who always took the line of the least
resistance, avoiding unnecessary trouble, which was wise in one-so well
to do in the world’s goods, and as John himself was imbued with the most
kindly feelings toward even his enemies, he had the gratification now of
beholding his future extend before him like a well-ordered railway line:
a clear right-of-way, and no signals against him.
One morning Mr. Blair entered the division superintendent’s room,
accompanied by a man so much like himself that he might almost be taken
for his younger brother.
“Mr. Steele,” cried the general manager, in his most amiable manner, “I
wish to introduce you to Colonel Beck, an officer of the company, who
keeps us all out of prison. Colonel Beck is Mr. Rockervelt’s chief legal
adviser, who knows so much about the law that he can enable any one with
money to evade it. Colonel Beck, this is Mr. John Steele, our youngest,
and I believe I may add, our most capable division superintendent.”
The Colonel laughed pleasantly as he shook hands with the young man.
“Mr. Blair gives you a better character than he bestows upon me,” said
the lawyer, with a good-natured twinkle of the eye. “If there is one
characteristic more distinctive than another in the Rockervelt system,
it is the unvarying respect it holds for the law.”
“Oh, that’s true enough,” rejoined Blair. “Why shouldn’t we respect the
laws when the Colonel here makes most of them pertaining to railways?”
“Are you then a member of the Legislature?” asked John innocently.
Both of the fat men laughed, and Colonel Beck replied: “No, I am not so
restricted as all that. A member of the Legislature possesses one vote.
In the secret sanctity of this room, now that my friend Blair has given
a hint in that direction, I may say I control many votes in the various
Legislatures, and perhaps a few in the National Capitol as well. Still,
that’s all among ourselves, Mr. Steele, and, getting to safer ground,
I may add that I esteem this meeting a pleasure, for you are one of
the few men I have heard Mr. Rockervelt speak highly of, and when Mr.
Rockervelt praises a man I like to know that man and make him my friend
if possible, for he is sure to go far. I think,” continued the Colonel,
turning toward Blair, “that Mr. Rockervelt said the superintendent here
was rather a considerable shareholder in the Midland.”
“Mr. Rockervelt was a trifle premature if he said that,” replied the
general manager. “He spoke to me about it last time I was in New York,
but I was unable at the time to give him definite information.”
“He is not in the least premature,” Steele intervened quietly. “Since
our conversation a while ago, Mr. Blair, I have sold out all my Michigan
Central Stock with some of my Northern Pacific, and have invested in
Manateau Midland.”
“Ah, then you are one of us,” cried Beck, with enthusiasm; “I wish I had
known you before you made the transfer, because I could have introduced
you to brokers who would have done the job at the same rate they
transact business for us, which I may add is a considerable shade lower
than the general public pay. In future if you have any dealings on
the market, I shall be glad to give you the benefit of both advice and
introduction, which may result in your saving money.”
“I am an investor, rather than a speculator,” replied John, “and more
anxious to get good securities than exorbitant dividends.”
“A very wise rule of conduct,” said the Colonel, nodding his head
sagely several times; then, abruptly changing the subject, he once more
expressed his pleasure at making the acquaintance of John Steele.
“I live part of the year in New York, and part in this city,” continued
the Colonel, “for I am a native here. I arrived a week ago, and
to-morrow night we give a little house-warming which I should be glad,
Mr. Steele, if you would attend. Not a great crush, you know; a homely
gathering rather than a fashionable function, but you shall meet very
choice people there, eh, Blair? You’ll corroborate me in that, I’m
sure?”
“Yes, Colonel,” responded Blair, “you are altogether too modest. Your
dinners might well form a model to Lucullus, and I can assure Mr. Steele
that he will meet people whom it may be a great advantage for him to
know. Now, there’s a handsome, unsolicited testimonial.”
“No, by Jove, it was solicited, wasn’t it?” cried the genial Colonel,
rubbing his hands together. “Well, Mr. Steele, may I depend on you? You
will forgive the shortness of the notice, because of the shortness of
our acquaintance.”
John Steele accepted the invitation with a cordiality equal to that with
which it was tendered.
The prediction of both the stout gentlemen that John Steele would
meet interesting people whom he should be glad to know was more than
fulfilled, although his joy of new acquaintance was concentrated on one
person.
Miss Sadie Beck was the most beautiful girl Steele had ever seen. Her
face was sweet and innocent; her complexion of purest ivory tinted with
dawn, the colours that go with hair of Californian gold, profuse and
waving; the whole entrancing picture being lighted up by eyes as blue as
a June sky.
The portals of the Beck mansion proved to be the gates of Eden, with
Eve awaiting him within the Paradise. John, hitherto all unused to the
society of women, found himself in the presence of Sadie Beck thrilled
with emotions of which he knew nothing, and life quite unexpectedly
presented possibilities that dazzled him.
Colonel Beck was a widower, and the only child of his only brother was
mistress of his household. The Colonel had been too busy a man to think
of marrying again after his wife had died, but circumstances solved
the problem which his own immersion in great affairs prevented him from
grappling with. His elder brother had been as unsuccessful in business
as Colonel Beck was the reverse, and dying, he left his daughter to
the care of her wealthy uncle, who had given her the most fashionable
education money could procure, and then had installed her as the
fascinating hostess of his home, a position which she amiably filled
to the delight of his guests, and to the complacent satisfaction of
himself.
The effect of this new-born friendship upon John Steele was
instantaneous and permanent. All the counsels which Philip Manson
had formerly tendered to him, urging a greater care in his personal
appearance, and a stricter attention to the niceties of dress had made
but ephemeral impression upon the object of Manson’s solicitations; but
now, without a word being spoken, John became almost a modern dandy. The
hairdresser’s constant attention worked wonders with his head covering,
and the most expensive tailors found him an exacting customer.
John discovered suddenly that the onerous duties of division
superintendent required a far wider outlook than he had so far bestowed
upon them. He must know the law pertaining to his profession, and
therefore he found frequent consultations necessary with the adviser to
the corporation, and that urbane gentleman did his best to enlighten
so diligent a student. Frequently, as was bound to happen with a man
on whose shoulders rested a portion at least of the legal business
pertaining to a wide-spreading railway system, Colonel Beck was occupied
in his own study, compelled to refuse himself to any visitor, and great
as should have been the disappointment of so earnest a pupil, John,
nevertheless, could scarcely conceal his delight that the niece rather
than the uncle should be his entertainer upon these occasions. The
elderly lady who acted as chaperone in the Beck household was a placid
nonentity, whom even a less strenuous person than John Steele might
easily have ignored. She always contented herself with reading the
latest book or magazine in a corner under the shaded electric light,
while Sadie sat at the piano at the further end of the large room, and
played most divinely certain soft, clinging, sentimental harmonies which
might be carried on in conjunction with whispered conversation.
Sadie was a deservedly popular young lady, and often, to his chagrin,
John found others in the drawing-room, claiming a share of her
attention, and to do Miss Beck justice, she bestowed her favours with
impartial charm upon all alike, although as time went on John Steele
flattered himself that there was reserved for him a tone slightly more
confidential than any of the others received. If the old Colonel saw
what was going forward, almost, as one might say, before his eyes, he
made no sign, and certainly treated the young division superintendent
with an even cordiality that would have proved flattering to a man of
much higher standing in the company’s service than was John Steele.
During this interesting period of his existence the young man lived in
an intoxicating, rose-hued atmosphere. “Lucky in love, unlucky in war”
was proving itself false in his instance. Never before had he been
so successful in his business; never so popular with superiors and
subordinates alike. Difficulties appeared only to vanish before
the magic wave of his hand. His suggestions were adopted, his plans
prospered, and perhaps most inspiring of all, his sagacity and his
energy met unasked appreciation. His salary was raised to a hundred
dollars a week, and Blair, when he announced the fact, referred almost
apologetically to the ever-increasing prosperity of the road, due
largely, he was good enough to say, to the efficiency of the division
superintendent.
And yet there was one pebble in his shoe. With increase of means,
curiously enough, there came the increased knowledge that intrinsically
he was a poor man. The property which a few months before had seemed
wealth, now appeared what Blair had actually suggested it to be, merely
the nucleus around which an energetic man might accumulate a fortune. He
was in the social class of the millionaires, but not in their financial
class. No matter what dividends were paid on two or three hundred
thousand dollars’ worth of railway stock, that income, added to his
salary of five thousand a year, would never support a palace such
as Blair lived in, or even a mansion similar to the one inhabited by
Colonel Beck. Sadie, with the demeanour of a queen, needed also the
income of a queen. John had no delusions on that score, and furthermore,
being proud, he could not ask her to step down, but to step up. The
germ that had remained dormant in his mind since his uncle’s death
now developed into the belief that he might become as prosperous in
speculation as he proved to be in all other walks in life. Often in
after years he remembered the coincident conjunction of necessity,
development and opportunity. Any two of the trinity would have been
inactive without the presence of the third, but the trio travelling
by different highways met at the crossroad, and then important things
happened.
One eventful evening he dressed for dinner and dined early at the club;
then he strolled up the avenue to the residence of Colonel Beck. Ushered
into the drawingroom he found Sadie standing by the open piano, idly
touching the upper keys with the tips of her fingers, standing there as
if she were waiting for him, yet he knew she was waiting for some one
else, for her opera cloak hung over the back of a chair beside her, and
she was arrayed superbly for dinner, ball or reception. Never afterward
could John give to himself any lucid description of what she wore,
except that she looked like a radiant angel garbed in white. Her raiment
was diaphanously, airily beautiful. Her gleaming, snowy shoulders,
superb neck, and crown of golden hair made up a vision almost unearthly
in its loveliness, which at once entranced and startled the young man.
She turned toward him that superbly poised head, with the arched brows
of surprise at his entrance mellowed by a seductive smile of a welcome
not to be misunderstood. John himself was one of those well-set-up young
men who look their best in evening dress, and as he came rapidly forward
down the long room the girl could see the soul shining in his eyes, and
the sight brought added colour to her own fair cheeks.
“Sadie,” he cried, taking both her hands in his, although she offered
him only one, “if but a painter could place on canvas even a hundredth
part of your adorable beauty to-night, his fame would ring down the
ages.”
The girl laughed.
“Is it so striking as all that? Then I am sorry I can give you but
fifteen minutes of it, for my uncle is taking me out to dinner, and
man-like he is late, having just arrived home and gone upstairs to
dress.”
“Fifteen minutes! What is it the poet says of fifteen minutes as
compared with a cycle of Cathay? Fifteen minutes, Sadie, with you, is
worth an eternity with any one else on earth. Why, bless my soul, the
Declaration of Independence was signed in ten!”
Again the girl laughed, trying, not very strenuously, to disengage her
hands.
“Do you wish me to sign a declaration of independence?” she asked.
“Yes, a declaration of independence from all the world except me.”
“In other words, a declaration of dependence on you rather than
independence of the rest?” she corrected.
“Sadie, I’ve adored you ever since I met you. The picture on canvas that
I spoke of is impossible, for there is not genius enough existent to do
it justice. But there is a picture I ask you to look at,” and he swung
her round almost rudely until she saw the reflection of two young people
holding each other’s hands in the tall pier-glass.
“If you appreciate that Princess as she deserves, you will wonder at
the conceit of the man standing beside her, that he dares to ask for the
original.”
Sadie looked at her counterpart with a certain complacency, for
doubtless she was a girl who had received many proposals, and was not
to be swept from her feet even by one so impetuous as this. But that she
was gratified by the young man’s earnestness, one needed but a glance at
her sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks to see. She turned from the glass to
him.
“Is it the girl from New York or the gown from Paris you so warmly
admire?”
“Answer me, Sadie, answer me,” he cried.
“Hush, hush,” she whispered, “I hear my uncle coming,” and now she
struggled in earnest to release herself, but strenuously he held her
firm.
“Answer yes or no.”
“Which word will release me most speedily?” she demanded.
“The first.”
“Then it must be yes. A fine masterful lover you are!” she cried with
pretended indignation, as she whisked herself free from him.
It was a maid who came in, and taking up the white cloak, she adjusted
it over the fair shoulders of her young mistress. A moment later the
Colonel, rubicund and beaming, entered the drawing-room.
“Ah, Steele, is that you?” he saluted his visitor, shaking hands in
the most friendly manner; “has my niece told you that we must enact the
inhospitable savage tonight, and turn you forth in a cold and pitiless
world?”
“Yes, Colonel,” laughed John, who was in such a state of joyous
exaltation that he would have laughed, no matter what his host had said,
“yes, and I must confess that it is like being turned from Paradise.”
The Colonel, smiling, allowed his eyes to pass from the exuberant
young man to the downcast face of his niece, who seemed absorbed in the
rearrangement of her white cloak. If the Colonel suspected anything, he
said nothing that might give a hint of his surmise.
“Do you know that Mr. Rockervelt is in town?” he asked.
“No,” replied the young man, in some astonishment.
“He arrived here by the noon train,” continued the Colonel, “and all
this afternoon we have been in close session at Blair’s house. Mr.
Rockervelt spoke of you, and said he was sorry he could not see you
this trip. We are dining with him to-night at Blair’s, but ladies being
present, no business will be talked. Mr. Rockervelt leaves by special at
ten o’clock.”
“Rather a short stay,” commented Steele.
“Short, but important,” replied the Colonel, as he led the way to the
door.
John Steele had the advantage of escorting Miss Sadie to her carriage,
and the felicity of pressing her hand before he made way for the Colonel
to enter. He stood there for a moment, watching the receding back of the
carriage, and then walked uncertainly down the avenue, treading not
upon hard flagstones, but on clouds, his mind far aloft in the realms of
romance, while his body bumped heedlessly against innocent passers-by,
or those who hoped to be passers-by _until_ he ran into them,
interrupting their course and causing one stranger to remark that it was
a pity to see a young man so drunk this early in the evening.