The idea of disappearing from the place where, with a stroke of
his fingers, he moved five thousand men, or swept a forest into the great
river, or touched a bell which set going a saw-mill with its many
cross-cut saws, or filled a ship to take the pine, cedar, maple, ash or
elm boards to Europe, or to the United States, was terrible to him. He
loved the smell of the fresh-cut wood. The odour of the sawdust as he
passed through a mill was sweeter than a million bunches of violets. Many
a time he had caught up a handful of the damp dust and smelt it, as an
expert gardener would crumble the fallen flowers of a fruittree and sniff
the sweet perfume. To be master of one of the greatest enterprises of the
New World for three years, and then to disappear! He felt he could not do
it.
His feelings shook his big frame. The love of a woman troubled his
spirit. Suppose the will were declared and the girl was still free, what
would she do?
As he set foot in the office of the firm of Belloc, however, he steeled
himself to composure.
His task well accomplished, he went back to his own office, and spent the
day like a racehorse under the lash, restive, defiant, and reckless. When
night and the shadows came, he sat alone in his office with drawn blinds,
brooding, wondering.
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