The Vision of Elijah Berl

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

After leaving the Rio Vista, Winston went directly to the office of the Las Cruces company. In spite of the fact that he knew his hope was beyond reason, he could not repress a thrill of excitement as he opened the door and entered the inner office. His first glance was toward Helen. Elijah's desk was closed and his chair vacant as he felt sure it would be. It was his first meeting with Helen since she had left him on the mountain. He shrank from the formal attitude which their official relations compelled him to assume and to which he knew Helen would strictly hold him. Yet there were no obstacles to the exchange of assurances which might flash between their meeting eyes. This was all he asked for, all he could hope for at present.

"Has Elijah been in this morning?" He looked at Helen as he spoke.

"No, Ralph. I hardly think that you expected he would be." Helen's eyes softened for a moment as they met Winston's, then they grew formal, but it was enough.

"No, I didn't. I only hoped that he might be. Have you any idea what he is up to?" Winston's tone was cynical.

Helen's face flushed painfully.

"You – " she began; then she paused. After all, Elijah was to blame. Winston's course had been as straight as the course of an arrow.

"I am a whited sepulcher. That is what you wanted to say, isn't it, Helen?"

"What makes you think so?"

"Because it's just what I am. I have been too hard on Elijah."

"I wish you had said something like this before – before it was too late."

"Too late?" he repeated. "What do you mean? Have you heard anything?" His face was anxious.

"No, I haven't. I only know that Elijah is thoroughly convinced that you have turned against him. That, and other troubles – Ralph, no man can stand the strain that he is under for long."

"You know Elijah as well as I do, perhaps better." Winston was profoundly agitated. "I would hunt him out and drag him home at once, if it were not for one thing."

"And that is?" Helen waited for Winston to continue. She knew that his words were a spoken thought, rather than addressed directly to her.

"So long as Seymour remains away, no one can speak with assurance. Elijah knows that. He needs to feel firm ground under his feet. No one can put it there now." He paused a moment, then continued. "I'll do my best to straighten it out for him."

A messenger entered the office and handed a yellow envelope to Winston. He read the message and dismissed the boy.

"Seymour will be here tomorrow. We will soon be in a position to set Elijah on his feet I hope." Winston hesitated a moment, then went on deliberately. "I thought of having Elijah hunted up at once; but now I think it will be best to wait." He looked questioningly at Helen.

"I think you are right," she replied briefly.

Winston returned to the Rio Vista and went directly to Uncle Sid's room.

"Things are coming to a climax." He handed the message to Uncle Sid.

The old man's face had lost its humorous look. His shaggy eyebrows were lowered, only two bright sparks flashed from beneath them, steely hard.

"This mess is in a fair way o' bein' settled now, an' it ain't a minute too soon, either. 'Lige ain't goin' to stand this always."

"What had we better do first?"

"You know Seymour. Meet him at the train and get him over to the office at once. I'll be there. I think we can settle the whole business in an hour." Uncle Sid's face relaxed into a grim smile. "He'll have to come to our terms."

"The main thing, after all, is to get there, and it begins to look as if we had done it."

There was a surprise to both in their immediate vicinity. The door opened without ceremony to admit Mrs. MacGregor. She was still in traveling costume. She nodded slightly to Winston, who rose as if to leave the room. Uncle Sid checked him.

"You stay right here, Ralph."

Mrs. MacGregor addressed Uncle Sid.

"I want a few minutes alone with you, Sidney, on business."

"Me an' Ralph are about as near one as they make 'em, I guess. You just go right on an' unburden your mind."

"The business to which I refer concerns you and me alone."

"Your ward and Helen Lonsdale are included, I guess. If they ain't, you'll have to wait. If they are, you go right on. You didn't raise enough money in Fall Brook to push you out of the Palm Wells mess. You take up the business right there."

Mrs. MacGregor looked at Winston with as much of an appeal in her glance as she could compel herself to make.

Winston settled himself even more firmly in his chair in compliance with Uncle Sid's request. Mrs. MacGregor did not attempt to conceal her annoyance, but she followed her brother's suggestion and came to the point.

"Yes, I did fail to raise the money in Fall Brook that I had expected to raise without difficulty, and I fancy I know why."

Uncle Sid chuckled with evident satisfaction.

"Consequently," Mrs. MacGregor continued, ignoring her brother's interruption, "the Palm Wells company is in precisely the same position now that it was when I left for the East."

"I should say that it was considerably steadier on its legs than it was. What's your opinion, Mr. Winston?"

"I should say so." Winston did not answer aggressively, his reply was perfunctory.

Mrs. MacGregor ignored Winston.

"I don't know what you mean, Sidney."

"Me'n Ralph knows. It ain't necessary you should know."

Mrs. MacGregor's patience was sorely tried, as Uncle Sid fully intended it should be, but she gave no visible signs of annoyance for two excellent reasons. In the first place, a display of emotion smacked of vulgarity; in the second place, she felt that all of her deep-laid schemes depended upon her perfect self-control.

"We are getting nowhere, Sidney. Let us come to the point at once. Our company is temporarily embarrassed and I feel that you are partially responsible for my not raising the money that I had expected, so I am coming to ask you to help us out. Not only is the success of the company at stake but the honor of our family name as well."

She would have gone farther, but Uncle Sid blazed in. He was quite unhampered by the fear of the vulgarity of displayed emotions.

"The honor of our name!" he exploded. "What Harwood in three hundred years was ever false to a trust? What Harwood but stood still in his tracks rather than even look at a crooked path? What Harwood ever used the weakness of his neighbor for his own good?"

"Sidney!" Mrs. MacGregor's voice trembled.

"Keep still! I'm on deck now!" Uncle Sid bent before his sister and shook his knotted fingers in her face. His eyes were blazing, his face rugose with deep, hard lines.

"Do you know what you've done, Eunice? You saw 'Lige Berl stumblin' betwixt right and wrong, an' for the sake of a few dirty dollars you pushed him over! That's what you did. You knew what our old New England name was worth to a man like 'Lige, and instead o' usin' it to pull him out o' the mud, you used it to push him in deeper. You congered a dyin' woman into trustin' her daughter's fortune to your hands, an' you've betrayed the woman an' stole her daughter deaf, dumb an' blind. Now you're in trouble, you're a comin' to me to keep the honor o' the Harwood name. I wanted to keep the honor o' the Harwood name, so I called on this young man to help me an' he's done it, because the same good, red blood is soakin' his bones an' muscles as has soaked the bones an' muscles o' the Harwoods. Betwixt us, we've got the company out o' trouble, an' betwixt us, we will keep it out. We'll get you out o' trouble too, and we'll keep you out o' this! Now we're goin' to hunt up 'Lige an' get him out o' trouble too. We hope he may be worth it."

Uncle Sid straightened and dashed a handkerchief over his swollen face. Mrs. MacGregor sat pale and silent. When Winston began to speak, she turned to him with lips that trembled on the verge of speech.

"I deeply regret the necessity of all this, Mrs. MacGregor, but there is no other way except before an open court." Winston briefly but clearly set forth the status of the Palm Wells company. He assured Mrs. MacGregor that Mellin had been effectually and forever silenced, and in confirmation of his words, showed Mellin's note, from which her name and Elijah's had been torn. "Now I am going to ask you to sign these papers; this done, the last obstacle will be removed from your brother's path."

"Suppose I refuse?"

Winston's face set.

"I advise you not to."

Mrs. MacGregor held out her hand for the papers. She affixed her name where Winston indicated.

"What next?"

Uncle Sid answered.

"There's nothin' more to keep you in California. Just go, an' when you want money within reason, let me know."

Mrs. MacGregor rose and turned to the door that led to her room. Winston was before her and held the door ajar, closing it behind her; then he faced Uncle Sid. The old man approached him and laid a clumsy but affectionate hand on his shoulder.

"I ain't worth a cuss at quotin' scripture, but it strikes me that it ain't every one who's yappin' 'Lord, Lord,' as gets into heaven. Now you go below an' tomorrow we'll lay alongside o' Seymour."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Winston was at his post when the great "Overland Express" rolled into the station at Ysleta, with clanging bell and coughing air-pump and dazzled sunbeams dancing from its varnish.

Winston was an engineer and he was not impervious to a stimulating thrill at the exhibition of power and progress of which the train was a type, from the ponderous, six-wheeled locomotive, to the last car of the shining train that it dragged. This thrill did not interfere with business and he had imperative, pressing business on hand. His quick eye singled out the man for whom he was waiting and almost as quickly he was by his side.

"Good morning, Mr. Seymour."

Without any haste, Seymour's grip was in his hand, and with no conscious volition on his part, Seymour was threading his way at Winston's side through the throng of disembarking passengers, those waiting for incoming friends, curious loafers, and rattling express trucks.

"Have you had breakfast?" Winston hardly paused, as they left the station and came out upon the gravelly, palm-fringed walk.

"Yes, and a good one too. The dining service has improved. Couldn't do much better in New York."

"That's a good deal for a New Yorker to say. It's worth money to the road; at least, it would be if they got hold of it."

"What's the program for today?" Mr. Seymour dropped pleasantries.

"If you're not tired, we'll go to the office at once. They are expecting us."

"Will Mr. Berl be there?"

"No. Not today."

"Hasn't he been notified."

"No."

"Why?" Seymour asked sternly.

"This, and much more, will come out at the meeting."

As Seymour swung along beside Winston, there was a meditative smile on his face. He was not accustomed to receiving curt answers to his inquiries. He had been watching Winston narrowly, and his first favorable impressions were being strengthened. Besides, he had lost no confidence in his own ability to take care of himself. They reached the office and entered.

Winston handed Seymour's grip to a waiting boy, and, without further ceremony, entered the private room. Uncle Sid and Helen were already there.

"Mr. Seymour, I think you have met Miss Lonsdale?"

Seymour greeted Helen with conventional affability; she was conscious of a piercing, though momentary, glance that seemed to read every nook of her soul.

"Captain Harwood, shake hands with Mr. Seymour." Winston made use of the hearty Western formula.

"Pleased to do so, Senner."

"Senner" was Uncle Sid's version of the stately Spanish señor, which had greatly taken his fancy. Neither the cordial "senner," nor the beaming smile, hid from Seymour the rectangular lines of the wrinkled face.

The party seated themselves, and before there was a suggestion of an embarrassing pause, Uncle Sid broke in. His glance shot from face to face then rested on Winston.

"We're cleared for action. Mr. Winston, it's your watch."

Seymour glanced appreciatively at Uncle Sid.

"You're naval, I see."

"Aye, aye, sir; from main truck to orange groves."

Winston began to speak. There was neither haste nor deliberation.

"There is no use in preliminaries. I take it, Mr. Seymour, that what brought you out here, was the theft of the fifty thousand dollars of the company's money?"

Seymour nodded curtly to Winston's question. Winston resumed.

"There's no use calling it by a softer name; but I submit that there were modifying circumstances which may appeal to you. Miss Lonsdale will submit them; Mr. Berl will not be here. No one knows exactly where he is. I am sure that he took the money without, at the time, realizing fully what his act would be called. I think I am right in saying that he is driven to desperation, now that he is brought face to face with his own interpretation of what he has done. If you insist, I am confident that he can be found within twenty-four hours, and that he will come here of his own accord, but I hope that you will not insist upon this step. When I find him, I want to be able to tell him exactly what he is to expect."

Without comment, Seymour turned to Helen.

"What are the modifying circumstances?"

Without a quaver, Helen met Seymour's piercing glance. She was alive to the fact that a single false step might mean ruin to Elijah, but she did not fear.

"For years, Mr. Berl has studied the conditions of orange growing, not only in this country, but in others. Previous to the organization of the Las Cruces company, he began a series of investigations as to the ranges of temperature. These investigations were not completed at the time this company was formed, farther than this. He had found that the greater part of the lands now held by the Las Cruces were in a belt where the temperature never went to freezing. He did not then know how much more extensive the belt was. At that time he transferred every foot of land which he controlled." Helen paused, looking at Seymour. He appeared politely patient, questioning the bearing of her words. She resumed.

"From this time he did not act alone, nor was he alone responsible for what was done. In my capacity of secretary, I discovered, what he did not tell you of, that is, the frostless belt. From maps, I found that the belt reached into territory not owned by the company, and I brought these facts to his notice. Whether rightly or not, this does not matter, he feared that I or others would make use of this knowledge. This fear led him to act at once without consulting the wishes of the company. There were movements on foot to secure this tract without knowledge of its special value, simply for its speculative value. Mr. Berl acted at once. At this time the Pacific Bank failed, and the fifty thousand dollars saved to the company through his influence, – I don't pretend to defend this, – was used by him for the purchase of the Pico ranch."

"One moment," Seymour interrupted. "Did Mr. Berl intend to restore this money?"

"I can only give you facts, Mr. Seymour, not opinions."

"Very well. But from your own showing, if other parties had secured this property, we would have had the revenue from the sale of the water and our money beside."

"I don't think that follows. But the actual fact is, that other parties did not get this tract and that Mr. Berl did."

"Has Mr. Berl got it now?"

"He has not."

Uncle Sid interrupted.

"I expect I can contribute some facts, Senner. The truth is, your company would have been fifty thousand dollars out, if it hadn't been for 'Lige Berl, – I don't defend him, either. As it is, you've got a bank account fatter than it was, an' I'm owner o' the Pico ranch."

"And our money having been risked without our consent, you are getting the sole benefit of it?" Seymour's voice was biting.

"That's just as you say, Senner. I'm goin' to let in a few others, Helen an' Ralph, an' we've no objections to you if you want to come in."

Seymour's face flushed angrily. He mistook the kindly old man's offer for a bribe.

"I've made money, but I've made it honestly, not by taking bribes."

Uncle Sid's face grew purple. His eyes shone from a maze of deep, hard lines.

"Look here, Mr. Seymour, I've got a name reachin' back three hundred years. You just shin up your jenny-logical tree an' shake out your ancestors, an' I'll match 'em as they fall, hides, an' horns, an' taller, an' what's more, if they line up better'n mine, I'll go along where you're more than half minded to send 'Lige."

Seymour was quick in thought and quick in action. He saw that he had been mistaken. A kindly, if somewhat cynical, smile softened his face.

"I beg your pardon, Captain. I won't put you to that trouble."

"No trouble at all, Senner, if 'twill ease you up any." Uncle Sid's face relaxed.

"I think you have all of the essential facts, Mr. Seymour," Winston began. "Mr. Berl took fifty thousand dollars of the company's money. It has been returned. According to the strict interpretation of the law, this restitution does not free Mr. Berl from its penalties. If you fail to prosecute, it will have the appearance of compounding a felony; that is, if Mr. Berl took the money with no intention of restoring it. Whether he had such intentions, no one, not even Elijah himself, can prove before the law. The question is, whether we will prosecute Mr. Berl, or whether we will forgive the past, and try to restore him to himself."

Winston looked fixedly at Seymour. There was an anxious hush as he ceased speaking. Seymour rested motionless with his eyes on the floor. At last he looked up.

"When I started out here, it was with the full expectation of finding you all more or less involved in this business. From what I have seen and heard since I have been in this office, I am prepared to say, without reservation, that my suspicions were groundless. So far as I am concerned, Mr. Berl is a free man with no shadow of fear. This affair can be kept strictly to ourselves with no injustice to any one. We will consider this episode in our history closed once and for all."

Uncle Sid's face was wreathed in smiles.

"I want to beg your pardon, Senner. You make me think of these prickly pears out here. They're mighty fine eatin' when you get the spines off 'em."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The fact that the way of the transgressor is hard, was being ground into the shrinking soul of Elijah. As yet, the grinding was of no avail because he refused to recognize that he was a transgressor. For years he had dreamed, and worked, and planned, and in it all he had been alone. Men would have called it alone, but not so Elijah. The Lord was with him. At least this was his fanatical belief. Alone, or with the still, small voice, not always interpreted aright, he had with infinite patience dreamed his dreams, wrought out his tasks as they came to him, and still alone, he had seen them shaping to a definite end. He had, like a solitary player, shuffled his cards, had dealt them and played in strict accordance with the game or modified them at will, and there was no one to say him nay. Even Amy had strengthened this growing habit of looking upon himself, his will and his desires as infallible.

Unconsciously he had carried this inflexible attitude of mind into the game, when necessity had compelled him to admit partners. He resented the insistence of others, that they should be considered as having rights equal to his own. He demanded unconditional surrender, implicit obedience to his will. He reasoned with a sophistical show of right that the great idea was his, that what he gave was given in the fullness of his heart, and that it was only base ingratitude that prompted the recipients to oppose and thwart him.

Winston had opposed and thwarted him in a thousand details, and though Elijah had outwardly yielded, he had not essentially changed, though he was learning many lessons. He had learned to distinguish between what Winston would accept and what he would reject, but involuntarily and unconsciously there was growing up within him a burning hatred of Ralph Winston. There was a seeming lack of sympathy in the rugged integrity of Winston that clove through the heart of things. Winston knew only north and south. If a needle swung to these points, it was right; if it did not, it was wrong, and he had no use for it.

Elijah was growing jealous of Winston. He said nothing, but he noticed that, in the field especially, and to a certain extent in the office, details were more and more referred to Winston, even by Helen. Winston's name was on every tongue. It seemed to Elijah as if profit, and honor, and prestige were slipping from him and falling upon Winston. He was being defrauded. It never occurred to him that Winston's complete surrender of heart, and soul and mind to the successful fulfilment of his dreams, all testified far more strongly than honeyed words of praise to the worthiness of the idea which he had conceived.

He had turned to Helen Lonsdale. With no less rugged ideas of right and wrong, they had been clouded in Helen with the dangerous sympathy of a woman's heart. With sympathy, Helen had softened the blows she had dealt him. To a certain extent she had kept him right, but because the blows had not pained, they lacked a compelling power. Her intuition, stimulated by her belief in him, in his essential greatness, had been quick to detect every changing mood; in her womanly sympathy, her efforts to soothe and comfort had been unstinted.

In spite of all condemning appearances, these influences were having an unconscious effect for good upon Elijah, until the advent of Mrs. MacGregor. She nursed his sense of wrong, stimulated his belief in himself, fed his morbidly craving soul with honeyed food that fattened it for the hand of the slayer.

Yet Mrs. MacGregor had missed her mark. She had counted upon a possible sometime awakening of Elijah, but before the awakening she had intended to have him fully in her power. She had not reckoned at its full value the impatient greed of Elijah; she had not reckoned on the womanhood of Helen Lonsdale which, though struggling in a fog of sinister influences, never lost consciousness of its own identity.

When, on the morning of his declaration to Helen, Elijah left the office, it was as one stricken with a numbing wound. He was not conscious of its meaning, only of the sickening absence of pain which, coupled with the knowledge of the wound, filled him with an unknown terror. As the meaning of it all slowly dawned upon him, the stinging, biting pain played full upon every tingling nerve. He became filled with blind, ungovernable, impotent rage. He raged against himself, against Helen, against Mrs. MacGregor. He would have returned to the office at once; what darker crime he might have committed, only imagination can suggest, but return was impossible. When the thought came to him, he was far beyond Ysleta, surrounded by desert sands that dragged at his feet till physical exertion was no longer possible. Burning with thirst, weakened by hunger, he threw himself upon the hot sands and watched with unconscious eyes the fierce sun sink into the Pacific.

It was here that a wandering vaquero chanced upon him. The simple Mexican knew naught of the delirium born of a frenzied mind, but he knew the delirium of blood thirst that lack of water brings upon the desert wanderer. With this knowledge and belief, he carried Elijah to his hut and nursed him back to life. If the strange señor chose to call upon the names of men and women whom he knew not, that was the señor's privilege, and it was his duty as a host to patter softly with bare feet on the dirt floor, and to bind the hot forehead with herbs which the desert gave. It was his duty as a host to bind with thongs the raving señor to his raw-hide couch, lest he should once more go out into the desert before his strength had returned.