The End Of The Rainbow Part 13

He was glorious on the first stanza, he was magnificent on the second.

He climbed grandly up the heights of its crescendo:--

"_Ye doors that last for aye, Be lifted up that so the King of glory enter may,_"

in ever growing power and volume; up to the wonder of the question--

"_But who is He that is the King of glory?_"

up to the rapture of the response:--

"_The Lord of Hosts and none but He The King of Glory is._"

And then out he came upon the heights of the refrain, with all the universe conquered and at his feet. When the first Hallelujah burst from the congregation, mounting splendidly at his side, the leader closed his book. He flung it upon the seat, tore off his gla.s.ses, clasped his hands behind him, and let himself go. And with a mighty roar he swept congregation, choir, organ, everybody, up into a thunder of praise.

"_Hallelujah, Hallelujah. Amen, Amen._"

It might not have been considered finished by a musical critic, it may have lacked restraint and nicety of shading; but no one who heard the Algonquin congregation that morning singing "Ye Gates lift up your heads," led by Lawyer Edward Brians, could doubt that it was surely some such fine fresh rapture that rang through the aisles of Heaven on that creation day when the morning stars sang together and all the Sons of G.o.d shouted for joy.

Helen Murray bowed her head for the benediction, the stinging tears rushing to her eyes, but they were not tears of sorrow. For the moment she had forgotten there was such a thing as pain. She had lost it as she had been swept up to the glad peaks of song. For one trembling moment she had caught a glimpse of a new wonder, the whole world moving, through sorrow and pain and dull misunderstanding, surely and swiftly up to G.o.d. And for that instant her soul had leaped forward, too, to meet Him. She came down from the heights; no mortal could live there, seeing things that were not lawful to utter. But from that first Sunday in Algonquin church her outlook on her new life was changed. She had seen the end of her rainbow. It was back of mists and clouds and storms, but it was there! And she could never again be quite so sad.

The congregation slowly filed put of the pews and down the aisles, chatting in soft hushed voices, until the organist pulled out all the stops and played a lively air, and then the conversation rose to suit the accompaniment. Mr. McPherson had objected to the pipe-organ, to the hired organist from the city, and finally and most vigorously to the musical dispersion of the congregation. If the body must play for the church service, Jock conceded, well, he must; but why he must paw and trample and harry the noisy thing, when church was over and done with, was a mystery that no right thinking person could solve. The organist, when approached with the elder's objections, had answered with dignity that all the city churches did it, and Jock's case was hopelessly lost. For when Algonquin was told that in the city they did thus and so, then Algonquin would do that thing too if it had meant burning down the church. So the congregation went down the aisles, sailing merrily on a flood of gay music, and as they went, Miss Annabel introduced the new teacher to several of the young folk of the church, who asked her to join the Christian Endeavor and the Young Women's Society, and the Young People's Bible cla.s.s and to come to the picnic to-morrow afternoon in the park and the moonlight sail on Friday evening, and a.s.sured her that she would like Algonquin, and wasn't it a very pretty place?

As they pa.s.sed down the steps, a slim young man, dressed immaculately in the height of fashion, came tripping up to them and addressed Miss Annabel in the most abjectly polite manner.

"Good morning, Mr. Wilbur," said the lady coldly, "I am sure you must welcome Sunday. I suppose you are working so hard these days." It was very cruel of Miss Annabel, for poor Afternoon Tea Willie had not yet been able to get an introduction to the lady of his dreams, and he really did work very hard indeed, and his was the employment from which there was no respite even on Sundays. But she hurried Helen on without further notice of him. Roderick was watching the little play with some amus.e.m.e.nt as he stood waiting for his father, who had stopped to have a word with the minister. As he did so he was puzzled to see Fred Hamilton pa.s.s him without so much as a word. He was concluding that his old acquaintance had not seen him, when he heard a merry laugh at his elbow and there stood Miss Leslie Graham.

"Did you see poor Freddy?" she cried. "Oh, dear, dear, I told on him after all, and he's mad at everybody in the town, you included, evidently. Now here's Daddy. He's dying to meet you. Here, Dad, this is the man that did the deed."

Mr. Graham took Roderick's hand and held it while he thanked him, in a voice that trembled, for saving his daughter's life. Roderick was attempting to disclaim any heroism in the matter, when Mrs. Graham fell upon him with a rustle of silks, and fairly overwhelmed him with grat.i.tude. Then two or three others came up and demanded to know what it was all about and Roderick was overcome with embarra.s.sment and was thankful when his father appeared and he could make his escape.

Lawyer Ed came to the buggy to say good-bye to Angus and to enquire what was the collie-shankie at the kirk door, and when he heard, he slapped Roderick on the back. "Well, well, look here, my lad," he cried, "why, your fortune is as good as made. Sandy Graham has been mad at me for the s.p.a.ce of twenty-five years or more about something or other--what was it now? Bless me if I haven't forgotten what. But he nearly left the church over it, and entirely left the law firm of Brians & Co." The bereaved head of the firm put back his head at the recollection, shut his eyes, and laughed long and heartily. "But you've got him back again all right, and I tell you this, my lad, if you get his business your fortune is just about made. Only don't go and lose your heart to the handsome young lady while you need a steady head!"

They drove away, and while the father talked on the drive home of the sermon, the son answered absently; his thoughts were all with the piece of good luck which had come his way by such a mere chance.

CHAPTER VIII

"FLOATED THE GLEAM"

Ever since Leslie Graham was old enough to know what she wanted she had always managed to get it. She was the only child of wealthy parents, as Algonquin counted wealth. Her father was absorbed in business, and felt he had done his duty by his daughter when he gave her money enough to be the best dressed girl in the town. Her mother's creed in regard to bringing up children was to give the dears a good time when they were young, they would grow old soon enough. So Leslie's time and energies were bent to the two main tasks of life, unconsciously set her by her parents, to spend as much money as possible on clothes, and to have a good time.

She had been named, as many another girl of the congregation, Margaret Leslie, after the minister's wife; she was a member of the church; she had been brought up to attend Sunday-school and mission band, and to be helpful in all social functions of the congregation; and withal she was frankly and happily, and entirely pagan.

The earliest lesson life had taught her was that, if she wanted anything, screams generally produced the desired object. The second lesson was that, when screams failed, one must scramble down from one's high chair and go after the prize and wrest it from table or sideboard or high eminence, no matter how much hard climbing or b.u.mps were entailed.

So when Roderick McRae became desirable in her eyes, in her usual straightforward manner, she frankly sought him out and demanded his attention. His sudden appearance on the evening of her loss of self-confidence, the appeal his rescue had made to her girlish imagination, and the charm of the forbidden that hung over Old Angus McRae's son made him a real Prince Charming. She was quite certain that he needed only to know that she liked him, to be immediately her slave. He seemed very shy and hard to convince that she cared, but that was natural, considering the wide difference in their social positions.

On the Monday morning after her father's arrival home, when he was ready to go down to the bank, she suddenly appeared, dressed in her prettiest white gown and announced her intention of accompanying him.

"Well, well, I feel highly flattered," he declared, as they walked down the garden path together. Then, as he opened the gate for her, he asked, with a knowing twinkle in his eye, for he was an astute business man, and accustomed to divining people's motives, "Now, what do you want to wheedle out of me this morning? You've been for a trip already, and it can't be a new dress."

She laughed and, as was her way, went straight to the point. "No, it's a new young man, Daddy. I want you to do something nice for Roderick McRae. Haven't you a big chunk of business you need a lawyer for?"

Her father frowned. "Tut, tut, if I've got to give some work to every young man that does you a favour, my business will be gone to the dogs in a month."

"A favour! Why, Father Graham, he saved my life!" cried the girl solemnly.

"Yes, dear, I realise that, and I'd like to do something for him. But Ed Brians, I can't stand. He wants to run everything in the town. He pretty nearly does, but he's not going to run my business. You mind that!"

Though Lawyer Ed had completely forgotten the cause of the trouble between them, Alexander Graham had not. Upon a certain date, years earlier, the belligerent young elder had tramped into a managers'

meeting, denounced a money-saving scheme of Manager Graham's, and called the a.s.sembled brethren all misers and skinflints. The managers had succ.u.mbed, in the most friendly manner, all except Sandy Graham.

He had resigned instead, and had tended his grievance carefully until, from a small shoot, in ten years it had grown up into a flourishing tree with deep and tenacious roots.

There was another cause of dissension, too. Alexander Graham had a brother named William, a lawyer, who lived in New York and was reputed fabulously wealthy. And he was an old and staunch friend of Lawyer Ed, who could not and would not be moved from his loyalty, no matter how many grievances Sandy placed before him. Bill was forever putting business in the way of Edward Brians, and his brother's jealousy and ill-feeling grew stronger as the years pa.s.sed.

Lawyer Ed paid not the slightest attention to Sandy Graham's enmity.

He invariably treated the old friend with an overwhelming good-humour which only served to increase the irritation.

Leslie Graham knew all this, but she cared not a pin's worth for her father's quarrels. She was not going to have her plans spoiled by a mere parent.

"Now, Daddy dear!" she cried, knowing exactly how to manage him, "I should think you'd have wit enough to see that Lawyer Ed would hate you to give your business to his young partner far worse than to give it to Willoughby. There's that new lumber scheme. You can give Roderick that and tell him Lawyer Ed's not to know anything about it, eh?"

The man hesitated. He was at that moment on his way to the law firm of Willoughby and Baldwin to put into their hands the work of negotiating with the British North American R. R. Company regarding some timber limits in New Ontario. It was a complicated piece of business, needing careful handling. He had not much faith in Willoughby--he was too old, and less in Baldwin, who was too young. This young McRae, being the son of Angus McRae, would be honest, there was no doubt of that, and evidently he had ability. And while he hesitated, and his daughter argued and cajoled, they came to the door of Lawyer Ed's office.

Roderick was standing there alone, having just seen his partner off down the street. Miss Leslie Graham took matters into her own hands with her usual charming audacity.

"Good morning, Mr. Roderick McRae," she cried. "Here's my respected parent can't make up his mind about a piece of backwoods he owns away back of beyond somewhere, so I just steered him down here. He was just saying on the way down that he would rather have the firm of Brians and McRae do his business than any one he knew of. Weren't you, Papa? Now you go in there with Roderick, and I shall call for you when I come back from my shopping. Bye, bye."

She shoved him up the steps and right in at the door, and skipped away, laughing over her shoulder at the trick she had played. Her father stood a moment looking after her, not knowing whether to be angry or amused. She turned and winked at him when she reached the bottom of the steps, and his anger vanished. He laughed indulgently, threw up his hands with a helpless gesture and followed Roderick into the office. And before he stated his business he spent a half-hour telling how much his daughter was to him and how grateful he was to Roderick for what he had done.

Roderick's eyes shone when the new work was laid before him. It was a big thing, bigger than had ever come the way of that little office in all the years it had done business in Algonquin. It fired his ambition to make good. The shrewd business man saw the look in the young lawyer's eye, and he did not regret the step Leslie had forced him to take.

"If you see that those rascals don't get the better of us, Mr. McRae,"

he said in parting, "I need not tell you that you will profit by it as well as ourselves."

Roderick thanked him for his trust. "When Mr. Brians comes in--" he commenced, but his client interrupted.

"I want it to be distinctly understood that this is your work entirely, Mr. McRae," he said. "Mr. Brians will understand."

Lawyer Ed did understand, and laughed long and loud over what he called Sandy Graham's extreme Scotchness. But he was vastly pleased that Roderick was to have a chance of showing what he could do, and that the wide business interests of Graham and Company were to be once more in their hands.

And now Roderick plunged into work with all his might. When the news spread that Graham and Co. had given a big transaction into the hands of Lawyer Ed's young partner, others followed. Lawyer Ed himself was a shrewd advocate, but every one knew that his business tendencies ran on certain lines. His chief concern had always been to settle family troubles, rather than to make money out of them. Many a puzzled farmer he had saved from losing in an unjust bargain when the opposite course would have meant money for himself. Many a family on the verge of disintegration over a will had been brought together and made happy, because their lawyer was more bent on their welfare than his own.

Roderick intended fully to keep up the fine old standards of the firm as far as possible. But he was determined to be much more than the legal adviser of all the folk living around Algonquin who couldn't do business themselves.

He took his mid-day meal at the Algonquin House, the leading hotel, and won the favour of Mr. Crofter, the proprietor. And there came to the office of Brians and McRae one day, much to the senior partner's amazement, Mr. Crofter himself, with some mining concerns he had in the north. Mr. Crofter had never quite seen eye to eye with Lawyer Ed, since the latter had declared flatly and loudly, at a tea-meeting given by the Sons of Temperance, that a man who sold liquor over a bar was a curse to the community. But Mr. Crofter knew when he wanted his business well done. He distrusted almost every one in Algonquin, but he knew old Angus McRae's son would be incapable of dishonesty.