John, unable to sleep, had risen from his bed and gone walking. He let
his feet drift, having nothing consciously in view, and presently found
himself in the path where on just such a night six years before he had
raced up and down in a panic calling the name of Agnes. It occurred
to him to look for the spot at which he had found her things. Unable
to make sure of it he idly gave up the effort. The view of the valley
impressed him and he sat on a stone at some distance below the path
to sense it. He was there when Agnes and Thane arrived. They could
not see him; shrubbery above his seat concealed him. He could see
them distinctly. His first impulse naturally was to disclose himself.
Hesitation arose on the thought that their coming to this place must
have been by romantic impulse; and then as the scene between them
developed he could only sit still. They should never know he had
witnessed it. Long after they were gone he sat there. And when he
departed he stumbled straight down the mountain side to the highway
lest they should still be near and see him if he went by the path.
He felt strangely exalted. His love for Agnes was hopeless. It had
been hopeless as a matter of honor because she rightfully belonged to
Thane. Now it was hopeless in a new and final sense because she had
learned to love Thane as he loved her. What had been inevitable now
was fulfilled, and what had been renounced in fair conduct was beyond
temptation. There was also his feeling for Thane which made them closer
than brothers.
He waited for them to seek him. That occurred on the second day. They
had come to the hotel and Thane asked him to join them for supper. They
required his advice. Much to their surprise Enoch not only had left no
estate; he was hopelessly bankrupt. The mill was heavily in debt. They
had to decide whether to pay off its debts or let it be sold for the
benefit of creditors. They were in no state about it. Agnes, it was
true, would never come into that fortune of her own out of which she
had meant to pay those “balances owing Alexander Thane to be accounted
for,” according to the black book. That no longer made the slightest
difference. As for Thane, he cared nothing about being rich. Besides,
his income now was large. Nevertheless, was it not an astonishing fact?
“Had you suspected it?” Agnes asked.
John told them of Enoch’s obsession against steel and how the wreck was
made. He put it entirely on the ground of Enoch’s steel phobia and left
himself out of it.
“What would be your guess to do with the mill?” Thane asked.
This question they debated at length.
“It’s too late to make New Damascus a steel town,” John said. “That
opportunity has gone around. However, there will always be a want for
New Damascus iron. I’ll go halves, if you like, to pay off the debts.
We’ll form a close corporation and save the mill. Rationally worked it
will pay its way.”
To this both Thane and Agnes agreed.
John went back to Pittsburgh. Thane and Agnes remained for several
weeks, to settle Enoch’s affairs, to dismantle Number One Furnace and
to arrange for reopening the mill under a superintendent brought by
Thane from the Agnes plant.
And New Damascus unawares was delivered to its fate.