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 ever erected. It was built of great pine logs,
the ends roughly dovetailed together with a lumberman’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
usually 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 sand 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 from prow to stern were as
plain to the eye as the upper works or the funnels or the masts.
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 sound was 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 looked like a
walking dress rather 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 lack of amiability by some
indescribable spiritual intellectuality which beamed from it. The whole
figure gave an impression of gloom. The hair was black; the complexion
almost that of an Italian woman. The eyes of velvet midnight could
sparkle with dark anger, but at times they melted into a glance of
appeal that was strangely pathetic, which partially redeemed the
austerity 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,
selfish perhaps, caring little for the feelings of others, yet
nevertheless there sometimes fitted across it an expression indicating
true nobility of character, that seemed to account for those many deeds
of kindness, with which even a critical world credited the young woman.
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 curt word 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 flecked the
animal a stinging stroke 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 apparently 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 horsewoman certainly rode well and
looked well in the saddle, but 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 complexion 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. It was the face of one in despair, and the fierce,
vengeful light of the eyes betokened a mind perilously near to insanity.
“Let go my horse!” she said in a low, tense voice.
The man tightened his grip.
“Keep quiet!” he retorted.
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.
“If you try to do a trick like that again,” he cried, “I’ll throw both
you and the horse! Drop that whip!”
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 woman. “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 glanced 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 cowardly hound who
dares to offer violence 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 ruined 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, have gone into the
coffers of your company. You have no more right to the money than I
have to this horse. I own that amount 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.”
“You 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 you 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
lie 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 very brink, looking
over.
“Don’t go so 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 extreme edge 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. Striking
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 thereabout, the riderless horse will gallop into my
courtyard. Now, Mr. John Steele, of Chicago, what is the next move?”
[Illustration: 0317]
“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 replied, 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, it 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 round your house watching for
you; but you have always left on a canter, 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 John 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 Steele 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, damn Nicholson!” cried John 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.”
“Ah, Miss Berrington, that is heaping coals of fire on this tousled 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.
“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 you mentioned 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 you, 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.”
John 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 toward 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 John. “I
should never 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 John, 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 suit
of evening clothes 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 Steele, “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?”
“Why, 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 employ 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 like look 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 the task was finished, and John 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?”