importance to the place had grown out of small beginnings. On the spot
where now stood Cartwright's Carriage Factory, well known through all
the countryside, old Joshua Cartwright had faithfully and laboriously
spent his days in making tubs and stools, sugar-troughs, and axe-helves
for the early settlers. The shed where, in those days, Simon Horton had
shod their horses and oxen, had grown in the course of years into the
Gershom axe-factory, which bade fair to make a rich man of his
daughter's son.
But the slow and sure process which had served their fathers in their
advances toward wealth were not likely to content the men of Gershom
now, and there had been much talk among them about the forming of a
company to be called "The Gershom Manufacturing Company," the object of
which was to be the establishment of new industries in the town.
Meetings were held, and speeches were made. The "enterprise and public
spirit of certain of our fellow-townsmen" were highly lauded, and a
wonderful future of prosperity for the town of Gershom and the
surrounding country was foretold as the result of the step about to be
taken. The Beaver River was made the subject of long and laudatory
discussion. Its motive power was calculated and valued, and the long
running to waste of its waters deplored. A committee was appointed for
the arranging of preliminaries, and that was as far as the matter
progressed at that time.
Other attempts were made later in the same direction. Some of them
passed beyond preliminary arrangements, and more than once the more
sanguine among the promoters of these schemes made sure of a successful
issue, but all had failed when the practical part of the business had
been touched.
The cause of this did not always clearly appear. Once at least it was
attributed by some of the disappointed towns-people to the obstinacy and
avarice of Jacob Holt. The old woollen-mill built by Gershom Holt in
the early days of the settlement had served a good purpose in the
country for a good many years. But it was time now, it was thought, for
the work to be carried on in Gershom on a larger scale. The old
building itself was of little value, and the old-fashioned machinery it
contained was of less, but the site was considered to be the best in
Gershom for a manufactory of the kind. Jacob Holt professed to be quite
ready to dispose of it to the company on reasonable terms; but when it
came to the point, no agreement could be made as to what were reasonable
terms, and so the old mill plodded on in the old way for a while, and
within a year a new mill was built in the neighbouring township of
Fosbrooke. There was much indignation expressed with regard to this
matter in Gershom, but Jacob troubled himself little about it. The old
mill had gone the way of most old mills since then; it had caught fire
one wintry night and burned to the ground, and the Gershom paper-mill
had been built on the site.
Jacob had not come down in his ideas as to the value he set upon it, but
he had been content to take shares in the building instead of the "cash
down" which he had demanded before. In this way, and in other ways, he
came by and by to be the largest shareholder in the concern, and when
later, partly through the inefficiency of the person who had charge of
the business, and partly for other reasons, paper-making began to look
like a losing concern, the value of the shares went down, and in course
of time most of them fell into his hands. So it was "Holt's Paper-mill"
now, and there was no other manufacturing company as yet in existence in
Gershom. The chances were, it was said, that had the first company
succeeded with the woollen-mill it might have fallen into the same
hands, and as far as the general property of the town was concerned, it
might as well have been Jacob Holt's hands as others'. But those who
had lost, or who fancied they had lost, by his part in these two
transactions, were watchful and suspicious of his movements when once
more the wise men of Gershom began to see visions of what might be done
by the combined powers of the Beaver River, the enterprise of the
people, and the use of a moderate amount of capital to advance the
prosperity of their town.
Their ideas had still advanced with the times. Their plans were not
limited to a woollen-mill now. Machine shops of all sorts, a match
factory, furniture-shops, even a cotton factory was spoken of. Indeed,
there were no limits to the manufacturing possibilities of the place, as
far as talk went. Money was needed, and a good deal of it, and the
people of Gershom wisely contemplated the propriety of making use of
other people's money in building up the town, and for this purpose it
was desirable that the company should embrace the rich men of other
towns as well. Some of those rich men came in an informal way and
looked about, and admired the Beaver River, and talked and thought a
good deal about the scheme. The banks of the river above and below the
town were examined with a view to deciding on the building of a new dam,
and Mr Fleming's refusal to sell any part of his land had been in
answer to Jacob Holt's offer on behalf of the prospective company.
All this had taken place about the time when Mr Maxwell came to
Gershom, and when he had been there a year no advance had been made in
the way of actual work.
The greater part of the land on the north side of the river, as far up
as Ythan Brae, had always belonged to the Holts. During the past year
the land of Mark Varney, on the south side, had also fallen into their
hands. For poor Mark's wife died, and any hope that his friends were
beginning to have that he might redeem his character was quite lost for
the time. He sold his place, already heavily burdened with debt, to
Jacob Holt; his mother became Mr Maxwell's housekeeper in the new
parsonage, taking her little grandchild with her, and poor Mark went
away--none for a while knew whither.
But the chief thing that concerned the people of Gershom was that Jacob
Holt had got his land, and the conclusion at once arrived at was that at
the point on the river where his pasture and wood-lot met, the new dam
was to be made, and that on his land, and on the land opposite, the new
factories, and the new town that must grow out of them, were to be
built.
"What Jacob ought to do now would be to go right on and make a good
beginning on his own account. If there is ever going to be anything
done in Gershom, that is the spot for it, and the company would have to
come to his terms at last."
So said Gershom folks, wondering that the rich man of the place should
"kind o' hang back" when such a chance of money-making seemed to lie
before him. But Jacob knew several things as yet only surmised by
Gershom folks in general. It was by no means certain after all that the
Gershom Manufacturing Company would come into existence immediately.
And even if it should, the chances were that among its members would be
more than one man who would be little likely to yield himself to the
dictation or even to the direction of Jacob Holt, as his townsmen had
fallen into the way of doing where the outlay of capital was concerned.
It would be easy to make a beginning, but Jacob looked further than a
beginning.
Gershom was not the only place whose inhabitants cherished the ambition
to become a manufacturing community and there were other rivers besides
the Beaver running to waste, which might be made available as a
manufacturing power. A company, with sufficient amount of stock
subscribed and paid for, might agree to put Fosbrooke, or Fairfax, or
Crowsville down as the name, and carry their money, and their influence,
and the chance of acquiring wealth to either of their thriving towns;
and a beginning in Gershom would amount to very little in such a case.
And then the river bank on the Varney place was not, in Mr Holt's
opinion, the best place for the new mills and the new village. It was
not to be compared to the point just below which Bear's Creek, or, as
the Flemings called it, Ythan Brae, flowed into the Beaver, and this
also belonged to Mr Fleming. Jacob would have liked to make his
beginning there. He knew, for he had taken advice on the matter, that
at the Varney place no dam of sufficient capacity to answer all the
purposes which were contemplated by the company could be made, without
at certain seasons of the year so flooding the land above it as to
render it useless for any purpose. He might have taken the risk of
probable lawsuits, and gone on with the work, if it had depended on him
alone to decide the matter. But it did not. Or he would have bought
it, but that it belonged to David Fleming, who would listen to no
proposal from his "enemy."
It was not that Mr Fleming was not satisfied with the terms offered.
He would listen to no terms. Indeed he refused to discuss the matter
with his neighbours, not only with those who might be suspected of
wishing for one reason or another to convince him of the folly of not
taking advantage of a good offer for his land, but with those who
sympathised with him in his dislike to Jacob Holt, who went further than
he did even, and called the rich man not only avaricious, but worse. He
would listen to nothing about it, but rose and turned his back on the
bold man who ventured to approach the subject in his presence.
In all this Jacob Holt felt himself to be hardly used. He declared to
himself that he wished to do the right thing by Mr Fleming. He was
willing to give him the full value of every foot of his land, and above
its value. That the advancement of the interests of the town and the
welfare of the whole community should be interfered with, because of an
obstinate old man's whim, seemed to him intolerable; he did not want the
land. Let Mr Fleming treat with the company--there was no company as
yet, however--and let him pay him his just debt, that was all he asked
of him.
He did not speak often about this to any one--not a man in Gershom but
had more to say about it than he. But he thought about it continually.
If it had been any other man in Gershom who had so withstood him, he
would long ago have taken such measures as would have brought him to his
senses. He could do so lawfully, by and by. The law had sustained him
in dealing with much harder cases than Mr Fleming's, though it was not
altogether pleasant to remember some of them. But there could be no
question but that it would be for the interest of the Flemings, old and
young, were his terms agreed to. No one would have a right to say a
word, though he were to carry his point against the old man, and claim
what was his due.
All this he said to himself many times, but still he could not do it, at
least he could not bring himself to do it at once. His father, though
he acknowledged the unreasonableness of his friend, would yet be grieved
at the taking of extreme measures against him; his sister would be
indignant, and he was a little afraid of Elizabeth. The church union,
which he with all the rest of Gershom had earnestly desired, would be
endangered; for he knew by many tokens that some of the North Gore men
were hanging back because of him. Public opinion would not sustain him
in any steps taken against so old a man, and one who had seen so much
trouble since he came among them, and he did not wish to take severe
measures, he told himself many times. It is just possible that the
remembrance of the lad who had been his companion and friend, who had
been cut off in the flower of his youth, to the never-dying sorrow of
the old man who opposed him, had something to do with his hesitation in
this matter. But even to himself this was never acknowledged; all he
could do was to wait and see whether some sudden turn of events might
not serve to bring about his purpose better than severity could do.
In the meantime, after many thoughts about it, when the few scanty
fields on the Varney place were harvested, he did make a beginning. He
brought old Joe Middlemas to the place, who walked about with all the
appliances for surveying it, and for laying it out in building lots. He
had some trees cut down, and some hillocks levelled, and kept several
men for a time employed in bringing loads of stone to the river's bank,
in a way that looked very much like making a beginning. But the heavy
autumn rains put an end to all this for a while, and as yet there
existed no manufacturing company in Gershom, nor was there any immediate
prospect that the hopes of the people with regard to it were likely to
be realised.
"They're fine at speaking, grannie," said young Davie, who had been
keeping his eyes and his ears open to all that was going on in Gershom.
"But grandfather and you may be at peace about the dam and the mischief
it might do for a while anyway. It may come in my day, but it winna
come in yours, unless that should happen which is not very likely to
happen, and all the rich men in the country should put their names and
their money at the disposal of King Jacob. He may measure his land, and
gather his sticks and his stones together, but that is all it will come
to, this while at any rate. Though why grandfather should be so
unwilling to part with a few acres of poor land to Jacob Holt is more
than I can understand."
"It is a wonder to me, Davie lad, where you got such a conceit of
yourself. One would think you were in folks' secrets, and spoke with
authority. It will do here at home with Katie and your mother and me,
but I am thinking other folk would laugh to hear you."
But Mrs Fleming was relieved for all that, for Davie was, in her
opinion, a lad of sense and discretion for his years, though she did not
think it necessary to tell him so, and she took comfort in the thought
that her husband would have a while's peace, as little more could be
done till the spring opened again.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE TWO COUSINS.
A great disappointment was preparing for Elizabeth. Her brother
completed his studies, and brought home his diploma, whether he deserved
it or not, and spent a pleasant six weeks at home, "resting from his
labours," as he said, and then he announced his intention of going to
reside in the city of Montreal, to pursue there the study of the law.
It had always been taken for granted that when his studies came to an
end, he was to go into the business of the Holts, and settle down in
Gershom.
"And what good should I do in the business?" said he to his sister;
"should I stand behind the counter in the store and sell yards of calico
and pounds of tea? Or should I take the tannery in hand, or the
paper-mill? Or should I go into the new company that Jacob seems so
bent on getting up? Now, Lizzie, do be reasonable and tell me what good
I should do in the business."
"I know that few young men in the country could hope for such a start in
life. It is not necessary that you should sell tea or calico either,
except by the hands of those you may employ--though if you were to do
it, it would be no discredit to you--and no more than your father did
before you many a day."
"Discredit! No, that is not the thing. But I can do something better
for myself than that; I am going to try at least."
"If self is your first consideration--But, Clifton, whether you think it
or not, you could do much in the business, and you are needed in it.
Jacob has more on his hands than he can do well, and even if he had not,
it is your affair that the business should prosper as well as his. All
we have is in it, and what do any of us know as to how our affairs
stand? We are altogether in Jacob's hands."
"Come, now, Lizzie! Let Cousin Betsey and the rest of them run down
Jacob. It is rather hard on him that his own sister should join them.
I believe he is an honest man--as honesty among business men goes."
"I am not speaking of honesty or dishonesty. But Jacob is not such a
man of business as our father was."
"No, but with his chances, he cannot but be carrying on a prosperous
business. Oh, I'll risk Jacob."
"But, Clifton, all that we have is in the business, and we ought to
know."
"Why, Lizzie! who ever thought before that you were mercenary and
suspicious, and I don't know what else besides? What has Jacob been
doing to `aggravate' you lately, that you should be down on him?"
"Clifton, you must not dismiss the matter so lightly. I am thinking far
more of you than of myself. You can never do better for yourself
anywhere, and why should you change your plans now, after all these
years?"
"Have I ever said that I was to stay in Gershom? I don't say that I
won't come back for good, some time. Gershom does seem to be the place
for a halt but as to going into the business right away, no, I thank
you."
"I think you are wrong."
"Nonsense! What do you suppose, now, Jacob would do if I were to bring
him to book, and claim a right to know all about his business
transactions, and his plans and prospects? It would be a mere farce my
making believe to go into the business."
"Possibly you might make it so, but it need not be so. But I cannot
think it wise or right for you to go to Montreal. It is like setting
aside the plans of your whole life to leave Gershom."
"No; you are mistaken. Though I have said nothing about it, I have not
this many a day meant to settle down here. I may ultimately `hang out
my shingle' here, or I may be appointed judge of the district by and by,
and then I'll come back and be a bigger man than Jacob, even."
But Elizabeth could not laugh at his nonsense. She was afraid for her
brother. She had longed for his return home, saying to herself that
home influence and a busy life would be better for him than the careless
life he had been living as a student; that with responsibility laid upon
him, he would forget his follies, and be all that she longed to see him.
"Think of our father's disappointment. How can you ever tell him that
you are going away?"
"While he has you he will be all right, and he will always be looking
forward to the time when I shall come home for good, for I fully intend
to settle here by and by. I confess it is hard for you to be kept
stationary here, Lizzie. It looks mean in me to go away and leave you,
doesn't it?"
"If it were going to be for your good--But, Clifton I don't believe it."
"I ought to give myself the best chance, ought I not? I must go to
Montreal. But, Lizzie, why don't you say at once that I am not to be
trusted in the city with its temptations? That is what you are thinking
of."
Elizabeth did not deny it. She was thinking of it sadly enough.
"That is one reason against it," said she.
"Well, get rid of that fear. I am all right. I should be worse off
loafing round here with little to do, and I shall be home often. Now,
Lizzie, don't spoil the last days by fretting about what is not to be
helped. I'm bound to go."
And go he did. Elizabeth could only submit in silence. His father
missed him less than she had feared he might. He was home several times
during the autumn and winter, and always spoke of the time when he was
coming for good, and his father was content with that.
Whether her brother Jacob was really disappointed or not at Clifton's
decision, Elizabeth could not tell. "Jacob had never counted much on
any help he would be likely to get from his brother," Mrs Jacob said.
She was quite inclined to make a grievance of his going away, as she
would probably have made a grievance of his staying, if he had stayed.
But Jacob said little about it, and everything went on as before.
Elizabeth had the prospect of a quieter winter than even the last had
been. Her father was less able to enjoy the company of his old friends
than he had been. He grew weary very soon now, and liked better the
quiet of the house when only Elizabeth was with him. His active habits
and his interest in the business had long survived any real
responsibility as to the affairs of the farm, but even these were
failing him now. When the weather was bright and fine he usually once a
day moved slowly down the village street, where every eye and voice
greeted him respectfully, and every hand was ready to guide his feeble
steps. He paid a daily visit to the store, or the tannery, or the
paper-mill, as he had done for so many years, but it was from habit
merely. He often came wearily home to slumber through the rest of the
day.
He was querulous sometimes and exacting as to his daughter's care, and
she rarely left him for a long time. She looked forward to no social
duties in the way of merry-making for the young folks of the place this
year. Even Clifton's coming home now and then did not enliven the house
in this respect as it had done in former winters. Many a quiet day and
long, silent evening did she pass before the new year came in, and she
would have had more of them had it not been for her Cousin Betsey.
Once or twice, when her father had suffered from some slight turn of
illness, Elizabeth had sent for her cousin, whose reputation as a nurse
had been long established, and Betsey had come at first, at some
inconvenience to herself, from a sense of duty. Afterward she came
because she knew she was welcome, and because she liked to come, and all
the work at home, most of which fell to her willing hands, was so
planned and arranged that she might at a moment's notice leave her
mother and her sister Cynthia to their own resources and the willing and
effective help of Ben. After a time, few weeks passed that she did not
look in upon them.
"He may drop away most any time, mother," said she, "and she hasn't seen
trouble enough yet to be good for much to help him or herself either, at
a time like that."
"And you are so good in sickness. And your uncle Gershom's been a good
friend to us always," said her mother. "I'm glad you should be with him
when you can, and with her too. And trouble may do Lizzie good."
"Well, it may be. Some folks don't seem to need so much trouble as
others, at least they don't get so much, but Cousin Lizzie isn't going
to be let alone in that respect, I don't think. Well, I guess I'll go
along over, and I'll get back before night if nothing happens, and if I
am not, as it's considerable drifted between here and the corner, Ben
might come down after supper and see what is going on."
"Trouble!" repeated Miss Betsey, as she gathered up the reins and laid
the whip lightly on the back of "old Samson."
"Trouble is just as folks take it. I have had my own share in my day,
or I thought so," she added, with a sharp little laugh. "I just wonder
what I should have done now if the Lord had let me have my own way about
some things."
Old Samson moved steadily along, past Joel Bean's, and the bridge, and
up the hill that brought Gershom in sight, and then she said aloud: "But
then things might have been different," and then old Samson felt the
whip laid on with a little more decision this time, and this, probably
with the anticipation of the measure of oats awaiting him in the
squire's stable, quickened his movements; and in a few minutes Miss
Betsey was shaking the snow from her cloak in Sally Griffith's back
kitchen. It had been snowing heavily for a while, and the movement of
the sleigh had been unheard by Elizabeth, or she would have taken the
shaking of the snowy garments into her own hands.
"Folks as usual?" said Miss Betsey, as she came into the front kitchen,
where Sally reigned supreme, conscious of her value as "help," and
careful of her dignity as a citizen of Gershom, "as good as anybody."
"Well, pretty much so, I guess. Kind of down these days, in general."
They had been youthful companions, these two, and had plenty to say to
each other. So Betsey warmed her feet at the oven door, and they
discussed several questions before she went into the sitting-room. She
went in softly, so as not to disturb the old man, should he have fallen
asleep in his chair, as he sometimes did after dinner; so she had a
chance to see Elizabeth's face before she knew that she was not alone.
It was grave and paler than Betsey had ever seen it, and there was a
weary, far-away look in her eyes that were following the grey clouds
just beginning to drift over the clearing sky. They brightened,
however, as they turned at the sound of the opening door.
"Cousin Betsey! I'm so glad to see you. You have come to stay?"
Friendly as they had become of late, Elizabeth did not often venture to
kiss her cousin. She did this time, however, repeating:
"You have come to stay?"
"Well, yes. I came fixed so as to stay a spell if I was wanted. Joel
Bean's folks heard somewhere that Uncle Gershom hadn't been seen out in
the street these two days, and I thought I'd just come over and see how
he was keeping along."