The Man From Glengarry

R >> Ralph Connor >> The Man From Glengarry


After the service he walked home with the minister's wife, seeking
opportunity for a few last words with her. He had meant to tell her
something of his heart's sorrow and disappointment, for he guessed that
knowing and loving Kate as she did, she would understand its depth and
bitterness. But when he told her of his early departure, and of the fear
that for many years he could not return, his heart was smitten with a
great pity for her. The look of disappointment and almost of dismay he
could not understand until, with difficulty, she told him how she had
hoped that he was to spend some weeks at home and that Hughie might be
much with him.

"I wish he could know you better, Ranald. There is no one about here to
whom he can look up, and some of his companions are not of the best."
The look of beseeching pain in her eyes was almost more than Ranald
could bear.

"I would give my life to help you," he said, in a voice hoarse and
husky.

"I know," she said, simply; "you have been a great joy to me, Ranald,
and it will always comfort me to think of you, and of your work, and I
like to remember, too, how you helped Harry. He told me much about you,
and I am so glad, especially as he is now to be married."

"Yes, yes," replied Ranald, hurriedly; "that will be a great thing for
him." Then, after a pause, he added: "Mrs. Murray, the West is a hard
country for young men who are not--not very firmly anchored, but if at
any time you think I could help Hughie and you feel like sending him to
me, I will gladly do for him all that one man can do for another. And
all that I can do will be a very poor return for what you have done for
me."

"It's little I have done, Ranald," she said, "and that little has been
repaid a thousand-fold, for there is no greater joy than that of seeing
my boys grow into good and great men and that joy you have brought me."
Then she said good by, holding his hand long, as if hating to let him
go.

"I will remember your promise, Ranald," she said, "for it may be that
some day I shall need you." And when the chance came to Ranald before
many years had gone, he proved himself not unworthy of her trust.

* * * * *

At the meeting of share-holders of the British-American Coal and Lumber
Company, held in Bay City, the feeling uppermost in the minds of those
present was one of wrath and indignation at Colonel Thorp, for he
still clung to the idea that it would be unwise to wind up the British
Columbia end of the business. The colonel's speech in reply was a
triumph of diplomacy. He began by giving a detailed and graphic account
of his trip through the province, lighting up the narrative with
incidents of adventure, both tragic and comic, to such good purpose that
before he had finished his hearers had forgotten all their anger. Then
he told of what he had seen of Ranald's work, emphasizing the largeness
of the results he had obtained with his very imperfect equipment.
He spoke of the high place their manager held in the esteem of the
community as witness his visit to Ottawa as representative, and lastly
he touched upon his work for the men by means of the libraries and
reading-room. Here he was interrupted by an impatient exclamation on the
part of one of the share-holders. The colonel paused, and fastening
his eye upon the impatient share-holder, he said, in tones cool and
deliberate: "A gentleman says, 'Nonsense!' I confess that before my
visit to the West I should have said the same, but I want to say right
here and now, that I have come to the opinion that it pays to look
after your men--soul, mind, and body. You'll cut more lumber, get better
contracts, and increase your dividends. There ain't no manner of doubt
about that. Now," concluded the colonel, "you may still want to close up
that business, but before you do so, I want you to hear Mr. Macdonald."

After some hesitation, Ranald was allowed to speak for a few minutes.
He began by expressing his amazement that there should be any thought
on the part of the company of withdrawing from the province at the very
time when other firms were seeking to find entrance. He acknowledged
that the result for the last years did not warrant any great confidence
in the future of their business, but a brighter day had dawned, the
railroad was coming, and he had in his pocket three contracts that it
would require the company's whole force for six months to fulfill, and
these contracts would be concluded the day the first rail was laid.

"And when will that be?" interrupted a shareholder, scornfully.

"I have every assurance," said Ranald, quietly, "from the premier
himself, that the building of the railroad will be started this fall."

"Did Sir John A. MacDonald give you a definite promise?" asked the man,
in surprise.

"Not exactly a promise," said Ranald.

A chorus of scornful "Ohs" greeted this admission.

"But the premier assured me that all his influence would be thrown in
favor of immediate construction."

"For my part," replied the share-holder, "I place not the slightest
confidence in any such promise as that."

"And I," said Ranald, calmly, "have every confidence that work on the
line will be started this fall." And then he went on to speak of the
future that he saw stretching out before the province and the whole
Dominion. The feeling of opposition in the air roused him like a call
to battle, and the thought that he was pleading for the West that he
had grown to love, stimulated him like a draught of strong wine. In the
midst of his speech the secretary, who till that moment had not been
present, came into the room with the evening paper in his hand. He gave
it to the president, pointing out a paragraph. At once the president,
interrupting Ranald in his speech, rose and said, "Gentlemen, there
is an item of news here that I think you will all agree bears somewhat
directly upon this business." He then read Sir John A. MacDonald's
famous telegram to the British Columbia government, promising that the
Canadian Pacific Railway should be begun that fall. After the cheers had
died away, Ranald rose again, and said, "Mr. President and gentlemen,
there is no need that I should say anything more. I simply wish to add
that I return to British Columbia next week, but whether as manager for
this company or not that is a matter of perfect indifference to me." And
saying this, he left the room, followed by Colonel Thorp.

"You're all right, pardner," said the colonel, shaking him vigorously by
the hand, "and if they don't feel like playing up to your lead, then,
by the great and everlasting Sammy, we will make a new deal and play it
alone!"

"All right, Colonel," said Ranald; "I almost think I'd rather play it
without them and you can tell them so."

"Where are you going now?" said the colonel.

"I've got to go to Toronto for a day," said Ranald; "the boys are
foolish enough to get up a kind of dinner at the Albert, and besides,"
he added, resolutely, "I want to see Kate."

"Right you are," said the colonel; "anything else would be meaner than
snakes."

But when Ranald reached Toronto, he found disappointment awaiting him.
The Alberts were ready to give him an enthusiastic reception, but to his
dismay both Harry and Kate were absent. Harry was in Quebec and Kate
was with her mother visiting friends at the Northern Lake, so Ranald was
forced to content himself with a letter of farewell and congratulation
upon her approaching marriage. In spite of his disappointment, Ranald
could not help acknowledging a feeling of relief. It would have been
no small ordeal to him to have met Kate, to have told her how she had
helped him during his three years' absence, without letting her suspect
how much she had become to him, and how sore was his disappointment that
she could never be more than friend to him, and indeed, not even that.
But his letter was full of warm, frank, brotherly congratulation and
good will.

The dinner at the Albert was in every way worthy of the club and of the
occasion, but Ranald was glad to get it over. He was eager to get away
from the city associated in his mind with so much that was painful.

At length the last speech was made, and the last song was sung, and the
men in a body marched to the station carrying their hero with them.
As they stood waiting for the train to pull out, a coachman in livery
approached little Merrill.

"A lady wishes to see Mr. Macdonald, sir," he said, touching his hat.

"Well, she's got to be quick about it," said Merrill. "Here, Glengarry,"
he called to Ranald, "a lady is waiting outside to see you, but I say,
old chap, you will have to make it short, I guess it will be sweet
enough."

"Where is she?" said Ranald to the coachman.

"In here, sir," conducting him to the ladies' waiting-room, and taking
his place at the door outside. Ranald hurried into the room, and there
stood Kate.

"Dear Kate!" he cried, running toward her with both hands outstretched,
"this is more than kind of you, and just like your good heart."

"I only heard last night, Ranald," she said, "from Maimie, that you were
to be here to-day, and I could not let you go." She stood up looking so
brave and proud, but in spite of her, her lips quivered.

"I have waited to see you so long," she said, "and now you are going
away again."

"Don't speak like that, Kate," said Ranald, "don't say those things. I
want to tell you how you have helped me these three lonely years, but I
can't, and you will never know, and now I am going back. I hardly dared
to see you, but I wish you everything that is good. I haven't seen Harry
either, but you will wish him joy for me. He is a very lucky fellow."

By this time Ranald had regained control of himself, and was speaking
in a tone of frank and brotherly affection. Kate looked at him with a
slightly puzzled air.

"I've seen Maimie," Ranald went on, "and she told me all about it, and
I am--yes, I am very glad." Still Kate looked a little puzzled, but the
minutes were precious, and she had much to say.

"Oh, Ranald!" she cried, "I have so much to say to you. You have become
a great man, and you are good. I am so proud when I hear of you," and
lowering her voice almost to a whisper, "I pray for you every day."

As Ranald stood gazing at the beautiful face, and noticed the quivering
lips and the dark eyes shining with tears she was too brave to let fall,
he felt that he was fast losing his grip of himself.

"Oh, Kate," he cried, in a low, tense voice, "I must go. You have been
more to me than you will ever know. May you both be happy."

"Both?" echoed Kate, faintly.

"Yes," cried Ranald, hurriedly, "Harry will, I'm sure, for if any one
can make him happy, you can."

"I?" catching her breath, and beginning to laugh a little hysterically.

"What's the matter, Kate? You are looking white."

"Oh," cried Kate, her voice broken between a sob and a laugh, "won't
Harry and Lily enjoy this?"

Ranald gazed at her in fear as if she had suddenly gone mad.

"Lily?" he gasped.

"Yes, Lily," cried Kate; "didn't you know Lily Langford, Harry's dearest
and most devoted?"

"No," said Ranald; "and it is not you?"

"Not me," cried Kate, "not in the very least."

"Oh, Kate, tell me, is this all true? Are you still free? And is there
any use?"

"What do you mean?" cried Kate, dancing about in sheer joy, "you silly
boy."

By this time Ranald had got hold of her hands.

"Look here, old chap," burst in Merrill, "your train's going. Oh, beg
pardon."

"Take the next, Ranald."

"Merrill," said Ranald, solemnly, "tell the fellows I'm not going on
this train."

"Hoorah!" cried little Merrill, "I guess I'll tell 'em you are gone. May
I tell the fellows, Kate?"

"What?" said Kate, blushing furiously.

"Yes, Merrill," cried Ranald, in a voice strident with ecstasy, "you may
tell them. Tell the whole town."

Merrill rushed to the door. "I say, fellows," he cried, "look here."

The men came trooping at his call, but only to see Ranald and Kate
disappearing through the other door.

"He's not going," cried Merrill, "he's gone. By Jove! They've both
gone."

"I say, little man," said big Starry Hamilton, "call yourself together
if you can. Who've both gone? In short, who is the lady?"

"Why, Kate Raymond, you blessed idiot!" cried Merrill, rushing for the
door, followed by the whole crowd.

"Three cheers for Macdonald!" cried Starry Hamilton, as the carriage
drove away, and after the three cheers and the tiger, little Merrill's
voice led them in the old battle-cry, heard long ago on the river, but
afterward on many a hard-fought foot-ball field, "Glengarry forever!"