A Fresh Start
"But I shouldn't think," said Helen, "that you would be satisfied to
remain a chauffeur. There's no future in it; it's only rather an easy
way of earning a living."
Atherton was silent. He had risen early and thoroughly overhauled his
engine, and on his appearance at the house had discovered, to his
delight, that Helen had decided to accompany her father on his trip to
town. They had left Mr. Hamilton at his office, and after making some
purchases in the shopping district, Helen had taken her place beside
him on the front seat of the car, and they had started for home.
Quite evidently, thought Atherton, feminine curiosity was still
unsatisfied. She had begun, with the elaborate and obvious artifice of
the sex, to talk on general subjects, gradually, however, narrowing
the scope of the conversation until it had centered upon Atherton
himself. But while, on the one hand, she had the advantage, by thus
taking the offensive, of being able to direct the talk as she pleased,
Atherton, on the other, through his inferior social position and
through the necessity of managing the car, was able to present a
strong defence, and contrived, by answering her queries either in
monosyllables or with evasion, to leave her as much in the dark as
ever.
To this course he had steadily adhered, for while he had no real
objection to telling her the true state of affairs, yet he feared that
if he did so she might repeat the story to her father, and that
Marshall Hamilton might regard his past with disfavor and forthwith
give him his discharge. And this was the last thing Atherton desired,
for with the coming of morning he had grown each moment more eager to
retain his "job." In the first place, after his long sojourn in the
city, his surroundings themselves delighted him. The song of birds
which had awakened him, the fresh, pure air, the radiant sunlight, the
soft green of the fields, all the sights and sounds of the country
seemed to refresh and reinvigorate him. Then, too, there was his
acquaintance with Bellingham, and a natural curiosity regarding the
mystery which surrounded the secretary's actions and the strange
requests which he had made. And finally there was the novelty of the
whole situation; the charm of feeling himself disguised, of playing a
part, put him on his mettle to do it well, and the ordeal of breakfast
below stairs, with the august Martin presiding at the head of the
table had kept him on the alert in his anxiety neither to overdo nor
underdo the role of chauffeur. There was distinctly a spice of
excitement about the whole affair; he was still young enough to enjoy
it as a "lark." A pretty housemaid had made admiring eyes at him; less
pleasantly, he had imagined that once or twice he had detected
Jenkins, the new second man, eyeing him with concealed but deliberate
scrutiny. On the whole, it seemed to him that he had acquitted himself
well, and thus he still had courage, even with so charming a
cross-examiner, to continue to enact the part of Atherton the
self-satisfied chauffeur, and not of Atherton the gentleman in
adversity. And accordingly, after thoughtful consideration of her
remark, he answered perversely, "Well, miss, there's many advantages
to a chauffeur's job. It's apt to be steady, and it's considered very
genteel, miss; very genteel, indeed."
The girl's expression, he thought, showed disappointment at his reply,
but before she could answer they swept around a turn in the winding
road, and the beauty of the scene before them was sufficient to make
them, for the moment, oblivious of all else. A broad blue stream of
troubled water, fed by many a clear and sparkling mountain brook,
rushed headlong down the valley, its whirling eddies gleaming with the
silver of dashing spray and the gold of dancing sunbeams. Above the
bridge which lay in their path the river was wide and comparatively
shallow, but below the bridge the banks narrowed sharply; the water
deepened; and a couple of hundred yards further down went roaring and
booming over the falls which furnished power for the mill whose
machinery hummed and whirred beside the eddies of the foam-flecked
pool. And to complete the picture's charm, in the middle of the bridge
a boy leaned against the railing, casting his line into the stream
below, while by his side two little girls romped and played with a
half-grown puppy of some nondescript breed which wriggled and leaped
and whirled hither and thither, in pure delight at being alive to
enjoy the wonders of such a delightful and interesting world.
To avoid all chances of injury, Atherton brought the car down to a
snail's pace, and thus they crossed the bridge in safety, but as the
wheels of the motor struck the road upon the further side he heard
behind him a sharp and terrified yelp from the dog, followed almost
simultaneously by a shrill cry of anguish from his playmates.
Instantly Atherton's hand was on the brake; the car jerked jarringly
to a standstill; and in another second he had leaped out and had
regained the middle of the bridge.
What had happened was only too evident. The puppy, in the course of
his mad gyrations, had approached too nearly the edge of the bridge,
had lost his balance, fallen, and was now being swept rapidly away
down stream. For the little girls, it was plain that the end of their
world had come; after their first instinctive cry, they stood
motionless, with parted lips, their faces white and rigid with grief
and terror. There was no time for reasoning or for counting the cost;
no time for anything but instant action; and with the speed of
lightning Atherton stripped off his coat, poised for an infinitesimal
moment, and then plunged, head foremost, into the flood. The impetus
of his dive carried him under, but as he came to the surface and shook
the water from his eyes he saw that his aim had been true, for the
puppy was only a few feet away from him, its head just visible above
the rush of the waves, as it battled valiantly, but vainly, for its
life. A couple of quick strokes and Atherton had grasped it with his
left hand, and thanking fortune that he could use the English side
stroke, he struck out as best he could with his unencumbered arm. Nor
did he save his strength, since a quick glance above and below showed
him that his task would be no easy one, for the speed of the current
was tremendous, and already the bridge seemed far away, and the brink
of the falls loomed ominously near. Yet on the other hand the stream
was narrow, and once freed from the burden of the dog, he could have
reached the shore in a dozen powerful strokes. But as it was, with his
left arm useless, it was hard to keep his head and shoulders clear of
the water, and half blinded, he struggled on, never dreaming of
releasing his hold upon the puppy, but fully conscious that at best it
was going to be a case of touch and go. The seconds passed, the roar
below him grew louder, and at length, taking time for one quick
glance, he saw that the falls were less than fifty feet away, and that
just at their brink, before the downward rush of the river began, a
jagged rock jutted out from the shore into the stream. Here, then, was
his chance, though but a slim one, for swimming is one of the most
taxing exercises in the world, and his long hours beside the ticker
had softened him and relaxed his muscles so that now, just when he
needed it most, his lack of condition told upon him and began steadily
to wear him down. And thus, summoning every remaining ounce of energy,
he lashed through the water until as though through a mist he saw the
rock come into view just below him. One stroke more and it was
abreast--the boom of the falls deafened him--he choked, gasped--now
his moment had come--he reached desperately for the rock, grasped it
only to have his clutch torn loose--he had missed it, his chance was
gone--he had lost his fight--
Down the bank flashed headlong a gleam of white; the girl's lithe form
was thrown prostrate upon the rock; her arm leaped out, her hand
caught his, and she braced herself, every muscle stiffening under the
strain; then slowly, inch by inch conquering the force of the current,
she drew man and dog to safety, and a moment later bent over them as
they lay prone upon the bank.
Atherton's eyes were closed; his breath came in quick, uneven gasps.
"Are you all right?" she cried, and although he made no direct reply,
he contrived a vague gesture toward the draggled ball of yellow fur at
his side. "Look after--pup," he managed to articulate, and was
satisfied to lie still, while the sunshine whirled dazzlingly about
him, and the baffled river roared past at his feet.
But the dog needed little help. Nervous shock--if puppies are subject
to nervous shocks--seemed to be all that ailed him, and presently he
sat up, very moist and somewhat dazed, to greet the children who now
came tearing down the bank, their grief changed suddenly to wild
delight. For the little girls, the dog was all that mattered; and
gathering him, all dripping as he was, into their arms, they loaded
him with caresses and endearments, and without a thought of Atherton,
bore him away toward home. But the boy, old enough to be a hero
worshipper, lingered to gaze admiringly as Atherton at length sat up
and began to wring the water from his clothes. "Say, mister," he
volunteered, "you done that slick," and abashed by the sound of his
own voice, hastily departed to see that the incident was adequately
described at the farmhouse. And thus Helen and Atherton were left
alone.
Little by little, Atherton's composure returned. The world ceased
revolving; his heart beats steadied; and immediately he was admiringly
conscious of the girl's courage and skill. So that presently,
forgetting for the moment his efforts at disguise, he exclaimed with
all sincerity, "I don't see how you did it! There's no doubt you saved
my life!"
But the girl was evidently not thinking of her own share in the
rescue. "If I did," she answered, "I am glad. But you were very brave.
It was a great risk to take for a dog."
"Well, I always liked dogs," he pleaded in extenuation, "and he was a
cunning little rascal, too. He looked so tiny and helpless down there
in the water; it didn't really seem quite fair."
There was silence. For Atherton, the world had suddenly taken on new
and brighter colors, for the girl's expression plainly showed her
admiration for his act. And at length, summoning all his courage, he
asked, "If I should ask you a truthful question, would you give me a
truthful answer?"
Far down in the depths of her eyes there gleamed a sparkle of
merriment, but otherwise her face was quite grave as she responded,
"Of course." And with the slightest possible accent upon the pronoun,
she added, "_I_ am always truthful."
But he did not choose to notice the implication. "Then," he asked,
"when you saw me last night, did you think I appeared to be an
ordinary, everyday chauffeur, or did you notice any signs of--what
shall I call it--of a gentleman in reduced circumstances?"
"As for reduced circumstances," she answered promptly, "I never gave
that a thought, but as for thinking you were a gentleman, yes, that
certainly occurred to me. And really, Mr. Atherton--" again, though
ever so slightly, she stressed the "Mr."--"I fear that the theatre
isn't your vocation. Your conception--that is the word, isn't it--your
conception of the chauffeur's part is very crude indeed. It is a quite
frightful combination of a stage Englishman and a vaudeville butler."
His face fell. "Now isn't that too bad!" he exclaimed ruefully, "and I
thought I was doing it so well. I am terribly discouraged."
"Oh, but you needn't be," she responded. "To be an actor is a fine
thing, but there are other things even better. For instance, to be a
life-saver is infinitely nobler."
She spoke between jest and earnest, and Atherton, for the first time
since his ducking, laughed. "Considering the size of the pup," he
answered, "the title is far too grand. But I'll accept it, just the
same, to save my pride. And if you don't mind, I should like to
explain this business of the chauffeur," and very briefly, and without
the mentioning of names, he ran over the adventures and misadventures
of the preceding day. "And so," he concluded, "you can see that I've
made rather a mess of things. But I wish--I'd like to--" he began to
flounder helplessly, then got himself once more in hand, and went on
steadily, "You'll think I'm an awful bounder for saying this, but I'll
probably never have another chance, and coming so near to the edge of
things as I did just now seems to make life a lot more real. I want to
say just this; that I admire you tremendously, and I wish I'd had the
good luck to meet you before I made ducks and drakes of all my
prospects in life."
And now, having had his say, he was suddenly amazed at his own
temerity, and did not dare look at her until at length, as she
remained silent, he ventured to steal a glance at her face, and was
relieved to discover that she did not appear to be displeased. She was
gazing straight before her into the whirling eddies of the river, and
presently she turned her head and answered him, and as she did so he
was struck afresh by the simple charm and directness of her manner.
"If you admire me," she said, "I am very glad, and I assure you it is
quite mutual. I like a man to be brave, and even more, I think, I like
him to be kind. And as for your misfortunes, I don't think you should
regret them. You see, I know something about stocks, and the
market--my father and I have always been great pals--and I'm sure the
game isn't worth the candle. I'm sure that every man who possibly
can should be doing some hard, honest work--work that will somehow
count--and stock gambling most emphatically doesn't count. So I
believe your losses are a blessing in disguise."
He knew that she spoke the truth, and hastened to acknowledge it. "You
are quite right," he admitted, "but it's sometimes hard to live down a
reckless past. I should like nothing so much as a fresh start, but can
I get it? I don't think it will be easy."
She meditated. "The question is," she said slowly, "what can you do
best?" And with a gleam of mischief, she added, "We'll omit the stage,
but all the rest of the world remains."
He smiled a trifle grimly. "I'm badly equipped, I know," he responded.
"The usual college education, and that is about all. But I am a fair
mechanic. Motors especially. I've always loved them, and sometimes I
can make them do things that other people can't. I believe, if I could
get a chance in the automobile business, I could make good."
She thought again. "I see a way," she said at length. "My father, as
you perhaps know, is a man of wide interests. Among other things, he
and his friends have just taken over two or three big motor companies,
and are going to consolidate them. I'll arrange an interview for
to-night; you can tell father your story, and perhaps he'll help you.
At any rate, I'll tell him what you did this morning; that ought to
show him that you have courage, and that you know how to make up your
mind."
Atherton stared. There was a business-like directness about her which
made him realize that she was a true daughter of Marshall Hamilton.
"You're very good," he answered gratefully. "I'd like nothing better
than a chance like that."
"I'm happy to help," she said, and as she rose to her feet, she added,
"And now, if you've recovered, we must be going. I've a luncheon
engagement that I mustn't miss."
He jumped up at once, his knees still a bit unsteady, but his heart as
light as a feather, and feeling, as they made their way back toward
the motor, that the falling of the dog into the water had sufficed to
change the whole course of his fortunes.
That night, at eight o'clock, he was received in Marshall Hamilton's
study, and for twenty minutes was subjected to a rapid fire of
questions, searching but not unfriendly, and aimed with a skill that
made Atherton understand and appreciate why his employer was a
successful man. To the matter of his stock losses Mr. Hamilton came
back more than once, but apparently he was willing to forgive this
indiscretion, for at the end of their talk it was arranged that
Atherton should continue as chauffeur until Monday night, and should
then be given a chance in one of the factories of the new company to
see whether he could reascend the ladder from which he had been so
rudely displaced.
So his opportunity had come to him, and as he left the house and made
his way back to the stables, bright visions of the future filled his
brain, and he dreamed over and over again, as young men have dreamed
since the beginning of time, dreams of youth, dreams of fame, and
above all else, dreams of love.