"I've wanted to talk to you for months. Do you remember what we spoke
of last?"
"Destiny," she said softly.
He nodded. "I see it plainly to-day, more plainly than ever before.
Sometimes when a man is in deep water his sight gets keener. What I
have been through in the last seven years is only a phase, it's not an
epoch. I was meant to do it, and I did it with all my heart. Now I'm
going to do something else, in order that the works may prosper. You
have helped me to make that decision."
"I?" she whispered faintly.
He put a hand on her arm--it was his only caress.
"Yes, Elsie, you. It is as though I had caught sight of a road which
was very beautiful and tender, and I was tempted to take it. But it is
not my road. What the future has left for me I don't know, but it is
not here and I must meet it alone."
He paused for a moment, and the girl's brown eyes filled with tears.
Presently the steady voice continued.
"Destiny is calling, and one cannot take a girl into a battlefield, for
that is what it is going to be. I'm a poor man again, Elsie, just as I
was seven years ago. That does not matter, for I will be rich in
memories."
"Don't," she said brokenly, "don't!"
"Youth will go to youth, Elsie."
"You mean--"
"I mean that the man you really love, is the man you saw run the
rapids."
"Jim!" Her eyes were round with terror.
"Yes, Jim, the best friend but one I found in St. Marys. Jim, full of
loyalty and courage and energy; Jim who wanted to give his life for
mine, though he thought he'd lost you. He had never really lost you,
Elsie. The road that led to you seemed so attractive that I hesitated,
till now I see that it was Jim's road. It always was."
In the silence that followed she lifted her exquisite face. Her lips
were parted, and in her gaze was a light that came as through
dissolving mist. And then into their very souls crept the voice of the
rapids. Clark caught it, and perceived that the call was not for him
alone but for thousands yet unborn, and there began to creep over him
the ineffable unction of labor. He realized how large was the world,
and how much work yet remained to be done. His spirit was not
solitary, but linked forever with eternal realities, and through the
cloud that obscured the present he could see his star of destiny
shining undimmed.
And Elsie! Elsie sat, her whole being shaken with overwhelming
emotion. Never had she so longed to be everything to this man as now
when, with prophetic power, his vibrant voice told her that he must
journey on alone. In his accents she recognized the note of fate, and
the ground shifted under her feet. She saw her dream dissolving. She
perceived that against his lofty spirit she herself must oppose nothing
small and selfish, however poignant the moment. Summoning all her
fortitude, she stretched out her hand.
He stood for a moment, and she felt the pressure of his grasp. It was
warm and confident. When she looked up she was alone.
It was hours afterwards that Ardswell and Weatherby lounged at their
windows, overhanging the terrace. They were in dressing gowns and
smoking contemplative pipes. Down below was seated a motionless gray
clad figure, clearly outlined in the moonlight. Ardswell saw him.
"Poor devil!" he said under his breath.