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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/3683.txt b/3683.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f974ebe --- /dev/null +++ b/3683.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6274 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Mr. Crewe's Career, Book III., by Winston Churchill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mr. Crewe's Career, Book III. + +Author: Winston Churchill + +Release Date: October 16, 2004 [EBook #3683] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. CREWE'S CAREER, BOOK III. *** + + + + +Produced by Pat Castevans and David Widger + + + + + +MR. CREWE'S CAREER + +By Winston Churchill + + +BOOK 3. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ST. GILES OF THE BLAMELESS LIFE + +The burden of the valley of vision: woe to the Honourable Adam B. Hunt! +Where is he all this time? On the porch of his home in Edmundton, smoking +cigars, little heeding the rising of the waters; receiving visits from +the Honourables Brush Bascom, Nat Billings, and Jacob Botcher, and +signing cheques to the order of these gentlemen for necessary expenses. +Be it known that the Honourable Adam was a man of substance in this +world's goods. To quote from Mr. Crewe's speech at Hull: "The +Northeastern Railroads confer--they do not pay, except in passes. Of late +years their books may be searched in vain for evidence of the use of +political funds. The man upon whom they choose to confer your +governorship is always able to pay the pipers." (Purposely put in the +plural.) + +Have the pipers warned the Honourable Adam of the rising tide against +him? Have they asked him to gird up his loins and hire halls and smite +the upstart hip and thigh? They have warned him, yes, that the expenses +may be a little greater than ordinary. But it is not for him to talk, or +to bestir himself in any unseemly manner, for the prize which he was to +have was in the nature of a gift. In vain did Mr. Crewe cry out to him +four times a week for his political beliefs, for a statement of what he +would do if he were elected governor. The Honourable Adam's dignified +answer was that he had always been a good Republican, and would die one. +Following a time-honoured custom, he refused to say anything, but it was +rumoured that he believed in the gold standard. + +It is August, and there is rejoicing in--Leith. There is no doubt now +that the campaign of the people progresses; no need any more for the true +accounts of the meetings, in large print, although these are still +continued. The reform rallies resemble matinees no longer, and two real +reporters accompany Mr. Crewe on his tours. Nay, the campaign of +education has already borne fruit, which the candidate did not hesitate +to mention in his talks Edmundton has more trains, Kingston has more +trains, and more cars. No need now to stand up for twenty miles on a hot +day; and more cars are building, and more engines; likewise some rates +have been lowered. And editors who declare that the Northeastern gives +the State a pretty good government have, like the guinea pigs, long been +suppressed. + +In these days were many councils at Fairview and in the offices of the +Honourable Hilary Vane at Ripton; councils behind closed doors, from +which the councillors emerged with smiling faces that men might not know +the misgivings in their hearts; councils, nevertheless, out of which +leaked rumours of dissension and recrimination conditions hitherto +unheard of. One post ran to meet another, and one messenger ran to meet +another; and it was even reported--though on doubtful authority--after +the rally in his town the Honourable Jacob Botcher had made the remark +that, under certain conditions, he might become a reformer. + +None of these upsetting rumours, however, were allowed by Mr. Bascom and +other gentlemen close to the Honourable Adam B. Hunt to reach that +candidate, who continued to smoke in tranquillity on the porch of his +home until the fifteenth day of August. At eight o'clock that morning the +postman brought him a letter marked personal, the handwriting on which he +recognized as belonging to the Honourable Hilary Vane. For some reason, +as he read, the sensations of the Honourable Adam were disquieting; the +contents of the letter, to say the least, were peculiar. "To-morrow, at +noon precisely, I shall be driving along the Broad Brook road by the +abandoned mill--three miles towards Edmundton from Hull. I hope you will +find it convenient to be there." + +These were the strange words the Honourable Hilary had written, and the +Honourable Adam knew that it was an order. At that very instant Mr. Hunt +had been reading in the Guardian the account of an overflow meeting in +Newcastle, by his opponent, in which Mr. Crewe had made some particularly +choice remarks about him; and had been cheered to the echo. The +Honourable Adam put the paper down, and walked up the street to talk to +Mr. Burrows, the postmaster whom, with the aid of Congressman Fairplay, +he had had appointed at Edmundton. The two racked their brains for three +hours; and Postmaster Burrows, who was the fortunate possessor of a pass, +offered to go down to Ripton in the interest of his liege lord and see +what was up. The Honourable Adam, however, decided that he could wait for +twenty-four hours. + +The morning of the sixteenth dawned clear, as beautiful a summer's day +for a drive as any man could wish. But the spirit of the Honourable Adam +did not respond to the weather, and he had certain vague forebodings as +his horse jogged toward Hull, although these did not take such a definite +shape as to make him feel a premonitory pull of his coat-tails. The +ruined mill beside the rushing stream was a picturesque spot, and the +figure of the Honourable Hilary Vane, seated on the old millstone, in the +green and gold shadows of a beech, gave an interesting touch of life to +the landscape. The Honourable Adam drew up and eyed his friend and +associate of many years before addressing him. + +"How are you, Hilary?" + +"Hitch your horse," said Mr. Vane. + +The Honourable Adam was some time in picking out a convenient tree. Then +he lighted a cigar, and approached Mr. Vane, and at length let himself +down, cautiously, on the millstone. Sitting on his porch had not improved +Mr. Hunt's figure. + +"This is kind of mysterious, ain't it, Hilary?" he remarked, with a tug +at his goatee. + +"I don't know but what it is," admitted Mr. Vane, who did not look as +though the coming episode were to give him unqualified joy. + +"Fine weather," remarked the Honourable Adam, with a brave attempt at +geniality. + +"The paper predicts rain to-morrow," said the Honourable Hilary. + +"You don't smoke, do you?" asked the Honourable Adam. + +"No," said the Honourable Hilary. + +A silence, except for the music of the brook over the broken dam. + +"Pretty place," said the Honourable Adam; "I kissed my wife here once +--before I was married." + +This remark, although of interest, the Honourable Hilary evidently +thought did not require an answer: + +"Adam," said Mr. Vane, presently, "how much money have you spent so far?" + +"Well," said Mr. Hunt, "it has been sort of costly, but Brush and the +boys tell me the times are uncommon, and I guess they are. If that crazy +cuss Crewe hadn't broken loose, it would have been different. Not that +I'm uneasy about him, but all this talk of his and newspaper advertising +had to be counteracted some. Why, he has a couple of columns a week right +here in the Edmundton Courier. The papers are bleedin' him to death, +certain." + +"How much have you spent?" asked the Honourable Hilary. + +The Honourable Adam screwed up his face and pulled his goatee +thoughtfully. + +"What are you trying to get at, Hilary," he inquired, sending for me to +meet you out here in the woods in this curious way? If you wanted to see +me, why didn't you get me to go down to Ripton, or come up and sit on my +porch? You've been there before." + +"Times," said the Honourable Hilary, repeating, perhaps unconsciously, +Mr. Hunt's words, "are uncommon. This man Crewe's making more headway +than you think. The people don't know him, and he's struck a popular +note. It's the fashion to be down on railroads these days." + +"I've taken that into account," replied Mr. Hunt. + +"It's unlucky, and it comes high. I don't think he's got a show for the +nomination, but my dander's up, and I'll beat him if I have to mortgage +my house." + +The Honourable Hilary grunted, and ruminated. + +"How much did you say you'd spent, Adam?" + +"If you think I'm not free enough, I'll loosen up a little more," said +the Honourable Adam. + +"How free have you been?" said the Honourable Hilary. + +For some reason the question, put in this form, was productive of +results. + +"I can't say to a dollar, but I've got all the amounts down in a book. I +guess somewhere in the neighbourhood of nine thousand would cover it." + +Mr. Vane grunted again. + +"Would you take a cheque, Adam?" he inquired. + +"What for?" cried the Honourable Adam. + +"For the amount you've spent," said the Honourable Hilary, sententiously. + +The Honourable Adam began to breathe with apparent difficulty, and his +face grew purple. But Mr. Vane did not appear to notice these alarming +symptoms. Then the candidate turned about, as on a pivot, seized Mr. Vane +by the knee, and looked into his face. + +"Did you come up here with orders for me to get out?" he demanded, with +some pardonable violence. "By thunder, I didn't think that of my old +friend, Hilary Vane. You ought to have known me better, and Flint ought +to have known me better. There ain't a mite of use of our staying here +another second, and you can go right back and tell Flint what I said. +Flint knows I've been waiting to be governor for eight years, and each +year it's been just a year ahead. You ask him what he said to me when he +sent for me to go to New York. I thought he was a man of his word, and he +promised me that I should be governor this year." + +The Honourable Hilary gave no indication of being moved by this righteous +outburst. + +"You can be governor next year, when this reform nonsense has blown +over," he said. "You can't be this year, even if you stay in the race." + +"Why not?" the Honourable Adam asked pugnaciously. + +"Your record won't stand it--not just now," said Mr. Vane, slowly. + +"My record is just as good as yours, or any man's," said the Honourable +Adam. + +"I never run for office," answered Mr. Vane. + +"Haven't I spent the days of my active life in the service of that road +--and is this my reward? Haven't I done what Flint wanted always?" + +"That's just the trouble," said the Honourable Hilary; too many folks +know it. If we're going to win this time, we've got to have a man who's +never had any Northeastern connections." + +"Who have you picked?" demanded the Honourable Adam, with alarming +calmness. + +"We haven't picked anybody yet," said Mr. Vane, "but the man who goes in +will give you a cheque for what you've spent, and you can be governor +next time." + +"Well, if this isn't the d-dest, coldest-blooded proposition ever made, I +want to know!" cried the Honourable Adam. "Will Flint put up a bond of +one hundred thousand dollars that I'll be nominated and elected next +year? This is the clearest case of going back on an old friend I ever +saw. If this is the way you fellows get scared because a sham reformer +gets up and hollers against the road, then I want to serve notice on you +that I'm not made of that kind of stuff. When I go into a fight, I go in +to stay, and you can't pull me out by the coat-tails in favour of a saint +who's never done a lick of work for the road. You tell Flint that." + +"All right, Adam," said Hilary. + +Some note in Hilary's voice, as he made this brief answer, suddenly +sobered the Honourable Adam, and sent a cold chill down his spine. He had +had many dealings with Mr. Vane, and he had always been as putty in the +chief counsel's hands. This simple acquiescence did more to convince the +Honourable Adam that his chances of nomination were in real danger than a +long and forceful summary of the situation could have accomplished. But +like many weak men, the Honourable Adam had a stubborn streak, and a +fatuous idea that opposition and indignation were signs of strength. + +"I've made sacrifices for the road before, and effaced myself. But by +thunder, this is too much!" + +Corporations, like republics, are proverbially ungrateful. The Honourable +Hilary might have voiced this sentiment, but refrained. + +"Mr. Flint's a good friend of yours, Adam. He wanted me to say that he'd +always taken care of you, and always would, so far as in his power. If +you can't be landed this time, it's common sense for you to get out, and +wait--isn't it? We'll see that you get a cheque to cover what you've put +out." + +The humour in this financial sacrifice of Mr. Flint's (which the unknown +new candidate was to make with a cheque) struck neither the Honourable +Adam nor the Honourable Hilary. The transaction, if effected, would +resemble that of the shrine to the Virgin built by a grateful Marquis of +Mantua--which a Jew paid for. + +The Honourable Adam got to his feet. + +"You can tell Flint," he said, "that if he will sign a bond of one +hundred thousand dollars to elect me next time, I'll get out. That's my +last word." + +"All right, Adam," replied Mr. Vane, rising also. + +Mr. Hunt stared at the Honourable Hilary thoughtfully; and although the +gubernatorial candidate was not an observant man, he was suddenly struck +by the fact that the chief counsel was growing old. + +"I won't hold this against you, Hilary," he said. + +"Politics," said the Honourable Hilary, "are business matters." + +"I'll show Flint that it would have been good business to stick to me," +said the Honourable Adam. "When he gets panicky, and spends all his money +on new equipment and service, it's time for me to drop him. You can tell +him so from me." + +"Hadn't you better write him?" said the Honourable Hilary. + +The rumour of the entry of Mr. Giles Henderson of Kingston into the +gubernatorial contest preceded, by ten days or so, the actual event. It +is difficult for the historian to unravel the precise circumstances which +led to this candidacy. Conservative citizens throughout the State, it was +understood, had become greatly concerned over the trend political affairs +were taking; the radical doctrines of one candidate--propounded for very +obvious reasons--they turned from in disgust; on the other hand, it was +evident that an underlying feeling existed in certain sections that any +candidate who was said to have had more or less connection with the +Northeastern Railroads was undesirable at the present time. This was not +to be taken as a reflection on the Northeastern, which had been the chief +source of the State's prosperity, but merely as an acknowledgment that a +public opinion undoubtedly existed, and ought to be taken into +consideration by the men who controlled the Republican party. + +This was the gist of leading articles which appeared simultaneously in +several newspapers, apparently before the happy thought of bringing +forward Mr. Giles Henderson had occurred to anybody. He was mentioned +first, and most properly, by the editor of the "Kingston Pilot;" and the +article, with comments upon it, ran like wildfire through the press of +the State,--appearing even in those sheets which maintained editorially +that they were for the Honourable Adam B. Hunt first and last and, all +the time. Whereupon Mr. Giles Henderson began to receive visits from the +solid men--not politicians of the various cities and counties. For +instance, Mr. Silas Tredway of Ripton, made such a pilgrimage and, as a +citizen who had voted in 1860 for Abraham Lincoln (showing Mr. Tredway +himself to have been a radical once), appealed to Mr. Henderson to save +the State. + +At first Mr. Henderson would give no ear to these appeals, but shook his +head pessimistically. He was not a politician--so much the better, we +don't want a politician; he was a plain business man exactly what is +needed; a conservative, level-headed business man wholly lacking in those +sensational qualities which are a stench in the nostrils of good +citizens. Mr. Giles Henderson admitted that the time had come when a man +of these qualities was needed--but he was not the man. Mr. Tredway was +the man--so he told Mr. Tredway; Mr. Gates of Brampton was the man--so he +assured Mr. Gates. Mr. Henderson had no desire to meddle in politics; his +life was a happy and a full one. But was it not Mr. Henderson's duty? +Cincinnatus left the plough, and Mr. Henderson should leave the ledger at +the call of his countrymen. + +Mr. Giles Henderson was mild-mannered and blue-eyed, with a scanty beard +that was turning white; he was a deacon of the church, a member of the +school board, president of the Kingston National Bank; the main business +of his life had been in coal (which incidentally had had to be +transported over the Northeastern Railroads); and coal rates, for some +reason, were cheaper from Kingston than from many points out of the State +the distances of which were nearer. Mr. Henderson had been able to sell +his coal at a lower price than any other large dealer in the eastern part +of the State. Mr. Henderson was the holder of a large amount of stock in +the Northeastern, inherited from his father. Facts of no special +significance, and not printed in the weekly newspapers. Mr. Henderson +lived in a gloomy Gothic house on High Street, ate three very plain meals +a day, and drank iced water. He had been a good husband and a good +father, and had always voted the Republican ticket. He believed in the +gold standard, a high tariff, and eternal damnation. At last his +resistance was overcome, and he consented to allow his name to be used. + +It was used, with a vengeance. Spontaneous praise of Mr. Giles Henderson +bubbled up all over the State, and editors who were for the Honourable +Adam B. Hunt suddenly developed a second choice. No man within the +borders of the commonwealth had so many good qualities as the new +candidate, and it must have been slightly annoying to one of that +gentleman's shrinking nature to read daily, on coming down to breakfast, +a list of virtues attributed to him as long as a rate schedule. How he +must have longed for the record of one wicked deed to make him human! + +Who will pick a flaw in the character of the Honourable Giles Henderson? +Let that man now stand forth. + +The news of the probable advent of Mr. Giles Henderson on the field, as +well as the tidings of his actual consent to be a candidate, were not +slow in reaching Leith. And--Mr. Crewe's Bureau of Information being in +perfect working order--the dastardly attempt on the Honourable Adam B. +Hunt's coat-tails was known there. More wonders to relate: the Honourable +Adam B. Hunt had become a reformer; he had made a statement at last, in +which he declared with vigour that no machine or ring was behind him; he +stood on his own merits, invited the minutest inspection of his record, +declared that he was an advocate of good government, and if elected would +be the servant of no man and of no corporation. + +Thrice-blessed State, in which there were now three reform candidates for +governor! + +All of these happenings went to indicate confusion in the enemy's camp, +and corresponding elation in Mr. Crewe's. Woe to the reputation for +political sagacity of the gentleman who had used the words "negligible" +and "monumental farce"! The tide was turning, and the candidate from +Leith redoubled his efforts. Had he been confounded by the advent of the +Honourable Giles? Not at all. Mr. Crewe was not given to satire; his +methods, as we know, were direct. Hence the real author of the following +passage in his speech before an overflow meeting in the State capital +remains unknown: + +"My friends," Mr. Crewe had said, "I have been waiting for the time when +St. Giles of the Blameless Life would be pushed forward, apparently as +the only hope of our so-called 'solid citizens.' (Prolonged laughter, and +audible repetitions of Mr. Henderson's nickname, which was to stick.) I +will tell you by whose desire St. Giles became a candidate, and whose +bidding he will do if he becomes governor as blindly and obediently as +the Honourable Adam B. Hunt ever did. (Shouts of "Flint!" and, "The +Northeastern!") I see you know. Who sent the solid citizens to see Mr. +Henderson? ("Flint!") This is a clever trick--exactly what I should have +done if I'd been running their campaign--only they didn't do it early +enough. They picked Mr. Giles Henderson for two reasons: because he lives +in Kingston, which is anti-railroad and supported the Gaylord bill, and, +because he never in his life committed any positive action, good or +bad--and he never will. And they made another mistake--the Honourable +Adam B. Hunt wouldn't back out." (Laughter and cheers.) + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN WHICH EUPHRASIA TAKES A HAND + +Austen had not forgotten his promise to Euphrasia, and he had gone to +Hanover Street many times since his sojourn at Mr. Jabe Jenney's. Usually +these visits had taken place in the middle of the day, when Euphrasia, +with gentle but determined insistence, had made him sit down before some +morsel which she had prepared against his coming, and which he had not +the heart to refuse. In answer to his inquiries about Hilary, she would +toss her head and reply, disdainfully, that he was as comfortable as he +should be. For Euphrasia had her own strict ideas of justice, and to her +mind Hilary's suffering was deserved. That suffering was all the more +terrible because it was silent, but Euphrasia was a stern woman. To know +that he missed Austen, to feel that Hilary was being justly punished for +his treatment of her idol, for his callous neglect and lack of +realization of the blessings of his life--these were Euphrasia's grim +compensations. + +At times, even, she had experienced a strange rejoicing that she had +promised Austen to remain with his father, for thus it had been given her +to be the daily witness of a retribution for which she had longed during +many years. Nor did she strive to hide her feelings. Their intercourse, +never voluminous, had shrunk to the barest necessities for the use of +speech; but Hilary, ever since the night of his son's departure, had read +in the face of his housekeeper a knowledge of his suffering, an +exultation a thousand times more maddening than the little reproaches of +language would have been. He avoided her more than ever, and must many +times have regretted bitterly the fact that he had betrayed himself to +her. As for Euphrasia, she had no notion of disclosing Hilary's torture +to his son. She was determined that the victory, when it came, should be +Austen's, and the surrender Hilary's. + +"He manages to eat his meals, and gets along as common," she would reply. +"He only thinks of himself and that railroad." + +But Austen read between the lines. + +"Poor old Judge," he would answer; "it's because he's made that way, +Phrasie. He can't help it, any more than I can help flinging law-books on +the floor and running off to the country to have a good time. You know as +well as I do that he hasn't had much joy out of life; that he'd like to +be different, only he doesn't know how." + +"I can't see that it takes much knowledge to treat a wife and son like +human beings," Euphrasia retorted; "that's only common humanity. For a +man that goes to meetin' twice a week, you'd have thought he'd have +learned something by this time out of the New Testament. He's prayed +enough in his life, goodness knows!" + +Now Euphrasia's ordinarily sharp eyes were sharpened an hundred fold by +affection; and of late, at odd moments during his visits, Austen had +surprised them fixed on him with a penetration that troubled him. + +"You don't seem to fancy the tarts as much as you used to," she would +remark. "Time was when you'd eat three and four at a sittin'." + +"Phrasie, one of your persistent fallacies is, that I'm still a boy." + +"You ain't yourself," said Euphrasia, ignoring this pleasantry, "and you +ain't been yourself for some months. I've seen it. I haven't brought you +up for nothing. If he's troubling you, don't you worry a mite. He ain't +worth it. He eats better than you do." + +"I'm not worrying much about that," Austen answered, smiling. "The Judge +and I will patch it up before long--I'm sure. He's worried now over these +people who are making trouble for his railroad." + +"I wish railroads had never been invented," cried Euphrasia. "It seems to +me they bring nothing but trouble. My mother used to get along pretty +well in a stage-coach." + +One evening in September, when the summer days were rapidly growing +shorter and the mists rose earlier in the valley of the Blue, Austen, who +had stayed late at the office preparing a case, ate his supper at the +Ripton House. As he sat in the big dining room, which was almost empty, +the sense of loneliness which he had experienced so often of late came +over him, and he thought of Euphrasia. His father, he knew, had gone to +Kingston for the night, and so he drove up Hanover Street and hitched +Pepper to the stone post before the door. Euphrasia, according to an +invariable custom, would be knitting in the kitchen at this hour; and at +the sight of him in the window, she dropped her work with a little, +joyful cry. + +"I was just thinking of you!" she said, in a low voice of tenderness +which many people would not have recognized as Euphrasia's; as though her +thoughts of him were the errant ones of odd moments! "I'm so glad you +come. It's lonesome here of evenings, Austen." + +He entered silently and sat down beside her, in a Windsor chair which had +belonged to some remote Austen of bygone days. + +"You don't have as good things to eat up at Mis' Jenney's as I give you," +she remarked. "Not that you appear to care much for eatables any more. +Austen, are you feeling poorly?" + +"I can dig more potatoes in a day than any other man in Ripton," he +declared. + +"You'd ought to get married," said Euphrasia, abruptly. "I've told you +that before, but you never seem to pay any attention to what I say." + +"Why haven't you tried it, Phrasie?" he retorted. + +He was not prepared for what followed. Euphrasia did not answer at once, +but presently her knitting dropped to her lap, and she sat staring at the +old clock on the kitchen shelf. + +"He never asked me," she said, simply. + +Austen was silent. The answer seemed to recall, with infinite pathos, +Euphrasia's long-lost youth, and he had not thought of youth as a quality +which could ever have pertained to her. She must have been young once, +and fresh, and full of hope for herself; she must have known, long ago, +something of what he now felt, something of the joy and pain, something +of the inexpressible, never ceasing yearning for the fulfilment of a +desire that dwarfed all others. Euphrasia had been denied that +fulfilment. And he--would he, too, be denied it? + +Out of Euphrasia's eyes, as she gazed at the mantel-shelf, shone the +light of undying fires within--fires which at a touch could blaze forth +after endless years, transforming the wrinkled face, softening the +sterner lines of character. And suddenly there was a new bond between the +two. So used are the young to the acceptance of the sacrifice of the old +that they lose sight of that sacrifice. But Austen saw now, in a flash, +the years of Euphrasia's self-denial, the years of memories, the years of +regrets for that which might have been. + +"Phrasie," he said, laying a hand on hers, which rested on the arm of the +chair, I was only joking, you know." + +"I know, I know," Euphrasia answered hastily, and turned and looked into +his face searchingly. Her eyes were undimmed, and the light was still in +them which revealed a soul of which he had had no previous knowledge. + +"I know you was, dear. I never told that to a living being except your +mother. He's dead now--he never knew. But I told her--I couldn't help it. +She had a way of drawing things out of you, and you just couldn't resist. +I'll never forget that day she came in here and looked at me and took my +hand--same as you have it now. She wasn't married then. I'll never forget +the sound of her voice as she said, 'Euphrasia, tell me about it.'" (Here +Euphrasia's own voice trembled.) "I told her, just as I'm telling +you,--because I couldn't help it. Folks, had to tell her things." + +She turned her hand and clasped his tightly with her own thin fingers. + +"And oh, Austen," she cried, "I want so that you should be happy! She was +so unhappy, it doesn't seem right that you should be, too." + +"I shall be, Phrasie," he said; "you mustn't worry about that." + +For a while the only sound in the room was the ticking of the old clock +with the quaint, coloured picture on its panel. And then, with a movement +which, strangely, was an acute reminder of a way Victoria had, Euphrasia +turned and searched his face once more. + +"You're not happy," she said. + +He could not put this aside--nor did he wish to. Her own confidence had +been so simple, so fine, so sure of his sympathy, that he felt it would +be unworthy to equivocate; the confessions of the self-reliant are sacred +things. Yes, and there had been times when he had longed to unburden +himself; but he had had no intimate on this plane, and despite the great +sympathy between them--that Euphrasia might understand had never occurred +to him. She had read his secret. + +In that instant Euphrasia, with the instinct which love lends to her sex, +had gone farther; indignation seized her--and the blame fell upon the +woman. Austen's words, unconsciously, were an answer to her thoughts. + +"It isn't anybody's fault but my own," he said. + +Euphrasia's lips were tightly closed. Long ago the idol of her youth had +faded into the substance of which dreams are made--to be recalled by +dreams alone; another worship had filled her heart, and Austen Vane had +become--for her--the fulness and the very meaning of life itself; one to +be admired of all men, to be desired of all women. Visions of Austen's +courtship had at times risen in her mind, although Euphrasia would not +have called it a courtship. When the time came, Austen would confer; and +so sure of his judgment was Euphrasia that she was prepared to take the +recipient of the priceless gift into her arms. And now! Was it possible +that a woman lived who would even hesitate? Curiosity seized Euphrasia +with the intensity of a passion. Who was this woman? When and where had +he seen her? Ripton could not have produced her--for it was +characteristic of Euphrasia that no girl of her acquaintance was worthy +to be raised to such a height; Austen's wife would be an unknown of ideal +appearance and attainments. Hence indignation rocked Euphrasia, and +doubts swayed her. In this alone she had been an idealist, but she might +have known that good men were a prey to the unworthy of the opposite sex. + +She glanced at Austen's face, and he smiled at her gently, as though he +divined something of her thoughts. + +"If it isn't your fault, that you're not happy, then the matter's easily +mended," she said. + +He shook his head at her, as though in reproof. + +"Was yours--easily mended?" he asked. + +Euphrasia was silent a moment. + +"He never knew," she repeated, in a low voice. + +"Well, Phrasie, it looks very much as if we were in the same boat," he +said. + +Euphrasia's heart gave a bound. + +"Then you haven't spoke!" she cried; "I knew you hadn't. I--I was a +woman--but sometimes I've thought I'd ought to have given him some sign. +You're a man, Austen; thank God for it, you're a man. If a man loves a +woman, he's only got to tell her so." + +"It isn't as simple as that," he answered. + +Euphrasia gave him a startled glance. + +"She ain't married?" she exclaimed. + +"No," he said, and laughed in spite of himself. + +Euphrasia breathed again. For Sarah Austen had had a morality of her own, +and on occasions had given expression to extreme views. + +"She's not playin' with you?" was Euphrasia's next question, and her tone +boded ill to any young person who would indulge in these tactics with +Austen. + +He shook his head again, and smiled at her vehemence. + +"No, she's not playing with me--she isn't that kind. I'd like to tell +you, but I can't--I can't. It was only because you guessed that I said +anything about it." He disengaged his hand, and rose, and patted her on +the cheek. "I suppose I had to tell somebody," he said, "and you seemed, +somehow, to be the right person, Phrasie." + +Euphrasia rose abruptly and looked up intently into his face. He thought +it strange afterwards, as he drove along the dark roads, that she had not +answered him. + +Even though the matter were on the knees of the gods, Euphrasia would +have taken it thence, if she could. Nor did Austen know that she shared +with him, that night, his waking hours. + +The next morning Mr. Thomas Gaylord, the younger, was making his way +towards the office of the Gaylord Lumber Company, conveniently situated +on Willow Street, near the railroad. Young Tom was in a particularly +jovial frame of mind, despite the fact that he had arrived in Ripton, on +the night express, as early as five o'clock in the morning. He had been +touring the State ostensibly on lumber business, but young Tom had a +large and varied personal as well as commercial acquaintance, and he had +the inestimable happiness of being regarded as an honest man, while his +rough and genial qualities made him beloved. For these reasons and others +of a more material nature, suggestions from Mr. Thomas Gaylord were apt +to be well received--and Tom had been making suggestions. + +Early as he was at his office--the office-boy was sprinkling the floor +--young Tom had a visitor who was earlier still. Pausing in the doorway, +Mr. Gaylord beheld with astonishment a prim, elderly lady in a stiff, +black dress sitting upright on the edge of a capacious oak chair which +seemed itself rather discomfited by what it contained,--for its +hospitality had hitherto been extended to visitors of a very different +sort. + +"Well, upon my soul," cried young Tom, "if it isn't Euphrasia!" + +"Yes, it's me," said Euphrasia; "I've been to market, and I had a notion +to see you before I went home." + +Mr. Gaylord took the office-boy lightly by the collar of his coat and +lifted him, sprinkling can and all, out of the doorway and closed the +door. Then he drew his revolving chair close to Euphrasia, and sat down. +They were old friends, and more than once in a youth far from model Tom +had experienced certain physical reproof at her hands, for which he bore +no ill-will. There was anxiety on his face as he asked:--"There hasn't +been any accident, has there, Euphrasia?" + +"No," she said. + +"No new row?" inquired Tom. + +"No," said Euphrasia. She was a direct person, as we know, but true +descendants of the Puritans believe in the decency of preliminaries, and +here was certainly an affair not to be plunged into. Euphrasia was a +spinster in the strictest sense of that formidable and highly descriptive +term, and she intended ultimately to discuss with Tom a subject of which +she was supposed by tradition to be wholly ignorant, the mere mention of +which still brought warmth to her cheeks. Such a delicate matter should +surely be led up to delicately. In the meanwhile Tom was mystified. + +"Well, I'm mighty glad to see you, anyhow," he said heartily. "It was +fond of you to call, Euphrasia. I can't offer you a cigar." + +"I should think not," said Euphrasia. + +Tom reddened. He still retained for her some of his youthful awe. + +"I can't do the honours of hospitality as I'd wish to," he went on; "I +can't give you anything like the pies you used to give me." + +"You stole most of 'em," said Euphrasia. + +"I guess that's so," said young Tom, laughing, "but I'll never taste pies +like 'em again as long as I live. Do you know, Euphrasia, there were two +reasons why those were the best pies I ever ate?" + +"What were they?" she asked, apparently unmoved. + +"First," said Tom, "because you made 'em, and second, because they were +stolen." + +Truly, young Tom had a way with women, had he only been aware of it. + +"I never took much stock in stolen things," said Euphrasia. + +"It's because you never were tempted with such pie as that," replied the +audacious Mr. Gaylord. + +"You're gettin' almighty stout," said Euphrasia. + +As we see her this morning, could she indeed ever have had a love affair? + +"I don't have to use my legs as much as I once did," said Tom. And this +remark brought to an end the first phase of this conversation,--brought +to an end, apparently, all conversation whatsoever. Tom racked his brain +for a new topic, opened his roll-top desk, drummed on it, looked up at +the ceiling and whistled softly, and then turned and faced again the +imperturbable Euphrasia. + +"Euphrasia," he said, you're not exactly a politician, I believe." + +"Well," said Euphrasia, "I've be'n maligned a good many times, but nobody +ever went that far." + +Mr. Gaylord shook with laughter. + +"Then I guess there's no harm in confiding political secrets to you," he +said. "I've been around the State some this week, talking to people I +know, and I believe if your Austen wasn't so obstinate, we could make him +governor." + +"Obstinate?" ejaculated Euphrasia. + +"Yes," said Tom, with a twinkle in his eye, "obstinate. He doesn't seem +to want something that most men would give their souls for." + +"And why should he dirty himself with politics?" she demanded. "In the +years I've lived with Hilary Vane I've seen enough of politicians, +goodness knows. I never want to see another." + +"If Austen was governor, we'd change some of that. But mind, Euphrasia, +this is a secret," said Tom, raising a warning finger. "If Austen hears +about it now, the jig's up." + +Euphrasia considered and thawed a little. + +"They don't often have governors that young, do they?" she asked. + +"No," said Tom, forcibly, "they don't. And so far as I know, they haven't +had such a governor for years as Austen would make. But he won't push +himself. You know, Euphrasia, I have always believed that he will be +President some day." + +Euphrasia received this somewhat startling prediction complacently. She +had no doubt of its accuracy, but the enunciation of it raised young Tom +in her estimation, and incidentally brought her nearer her topic. + +"Austen ain't himself lately," she remarked. + +"I knew that he didn't get along with Hilary," said Tom, sympathetically, +beginning to realize now that Euphrasia had come to talk about her idol. + +"It's Hilary doesn't get along with him," she retorted indignantly. "He's +responsible--not Austen. Of all the narrow, pig-headed, selfish men the +Lord ever created, Hilary Vane's the worst. It's Hilary drove him out of +his mother's house to live with strangers. It's Austen that comes around +to inquire for his father--Hilary never has a word to say about Austen." +A trace of colour actually rose under Euphrasia's sallow skin, and she +cast her eyes downward. "You've known him a good while, haven't you, +Tom?" + +"All my life," said Tom, mystified again, "all my life. And I, think more +of him than of anybody else in the world." + +"I calculated as much," she said; "that's why I came." She hesitated. +Artful Euphrasia! We will let the ingenuous Mr. Gaylord be the first to +mention this delicate matter, if possible. "Goodness knows, it ain't +Hilary I came to talk about. I had a notion that you'd know if anything +else was troubling Austen." + +"Why," said Tom, "there can't be any business troubles outside of those +Hilary's mixed up in. Austen doesn't spend any money to speak of, except +what he gives away, and he's practically chief counsel for our company." + +Euphrasia was silent a moment. + +"I suppose there's nothing else that could bother him," she remarked. She +had never held Tom Gaylord's powers of comprehension in high estimation, +and the estimate had not risen during this visit. But she had undervalued +him; even Tom could rise to an inspiration--when the sources of all other +inspirations were eliminated. + +"Why," he exclaimed, with a masculine lack of delicacy, "he may be in +love--" + +"That's struck you, has it?" said Euphrasia. + +But Tom appeared to be thinking; he was, in truth, engaged in collecting +his cumulative evidence: Austen's sleigh-ride at the capital, which he +had discovered; his talk with Victoria after her fall, when she had +betrayed an interest in Austen which Tom had thought entirely natural; +and finally Victoria's appearance at Mr. Crewe's rally in Ripton. Young +Mr. Gaylord had not had a great deal of experience in affairs of the +heart, and he was himself aware that his diagnosis in such a matter would +not carry much weight. He had conceived a tremendous admiration for +Victoria, which had been shaken a little by the suspicion that she might +be intending to marry Mr. Crewe. Tom Gaylord saw no reason why Austen +Vane should not marry Mr. Flint's daughter if he chose--or any other +man's daughter; partaking, in this respect, somewhat of Euphrasia's view. +As for Austen himself, Tom had seen no symptoms; but then, he reflected, +he would not be likely to see any. However, he perceived the object now +of Euphrasia's visit, and began to take the liveliest interest in it. + +"So you think Austen's in love?" he demanded. + +Euphrasia sat up straighter, if anything. + +"I didn't say anything of the kind," she returned. + +"He wouldn't tell me, you know," said Tom; "I can only guess at it." + +"And the--lady?" said Euphrasia, craftily. + +"I'm up a tree there, too. All I know is that he took her sleigh-riding +one afternoon at the capital, and wouldn't tell me who he was going to +take. And then she fell off her horse down at East Tunbridge Station--" + +"Fell off her horse!" echoed Euphrasia, an accident comparable in her +mind to falling off a roof. What manner of young woman was this who fell +off horses? + +"She wasn't hurt," Tom continued, "and she rode the beast home. He was a +wild one, I can tell you, and she's got pluck. That's the first time I +ever met her, although I had often seen her and thought she was a stunner +to look at. She talked as if she took an interest in Austen." + +An exact portrayal of Euphrasia's feelings at this description of the +object of Austen's affections is almost impossible. A young woman who was +a stunner, who rode wild horses and fell off them and rode them again, +was beyond the pale not only of Euphrasia's experience but of her +imagination likewise. And this hoyden had talked as though she took an +interest in Austen! Euphrasia was speechless. + +"The next time I saw her," said Tom, "was when she came down here to +listen to Humphrey Crewe's attacks on the railroad. I thought that was a +sort of a queer thing for Flint's daughter to do, but Austen didn't seem +to look at it that way. He talked to her after the show was over." + +At this point Euphrasia could contain herself no longer, and in her +excitement she slipped off the edge of the chair and on to her feet. + +"Flint's daughter?" she cried; "Augustus P. Flint's daughter?" + +Tom looked at her in amazement. + +"Didn't you know who it was?" he stammered. But Euphrasia was not +listening. + +"I've seen her," she was saying; "I've seen her ridin' through Ripton in +that little red wagon, drivin' herself, with a coachman perched up beside +her. Flint's daughter!" Euphrasia became speechless once more, the +complications opened up being too vast for intelligent comment. +Euphrasia, however, grasped some of the problems which Austen had had to +face. Moreover, she had learned what she had come for, and the obvious +thing to do now was to go home and reflect. So, without further ceremony, +she walked to the door and opened it, and turned again with her hand on +the knob. "Look here, Tom Gaylord," she said, "if you tell Austen I was +here, I'll never forgive you. I don't believe you've got any more sense +than to do it." + +And with these words she took her departure, ere the amazed Mr. Gaylord +had time to show her out. Half an hour elapsed before he opened his +letters. + +When she arrived home in Hanover Street it was nine o'clock--an hour well +on in the day for Euphrasia. Unlocking the kitchen door, she gave a +glance at the stove to assure herself that it had not been misbehaving, +and went into the passage on her way up-stairs to take off her gown +before sitting down to reflect upon the astonishing thing she had heard. +Habit had so crystallized in Euphrasia that no news, however amazing, +could have shaken it. But in the passage she paused; an unwonted, or +rather untimely, sound reached her ears, a sound which came from the +front of the house--and at nine o'clock in the morning! Had Austen been +at home, Euphrasia would have thought nothing of it. In her remembrance +Hilary Vane, whether he returned from a journey or not, had never been +inside the house at that hour on a week-day; and, unlike the gentleman in +"La Vie de Boheme," Euphrasia did not have to be reminded of the Sabbath. + +Perhaps Austen had returned! Or perhaps it was a burglar! Euphrasia, +undaunted, ran through the darkened front hall to where the graceful +banister ended in a curve at the foot of the stairs, and there, on the +bottom step, sat a man with his head in his hands. Euphrasia shrieked. He +looked up, and she saw that it was Hilary Vane. She would have shrieked, +anyway. + +"What in the world's the matter with you?" she cried. + +"I--I stumbled coming down the stairs," he said. + +"But what are you doing at home in the middle of the morning?" she +demanded. + +He did not answer her. The subdued light which crept under the porch and +came in through the fan shaped window over the door fell on his face. + +"Are you sick?" said Euphrasia. In all her life she had never seen him +look like that. + +He shook his head, but did not attempt to rise. A Hilary Vane without +vigour! + +"No," he said, "no. I just came up here from the train to--get somethin' +I'd left in my room." + +"A likely story!" said Euphrasia. "You've never done that in thirty +years. You're sick, and I'm a-going for the doctor." + +She put her hand to his forehead, but he thrust it away and got to his +feet, although in the effort he compressed his lips and winced. + +"You stay where you are," he said; "I tell you I'm not sick, and I'm +going down to the square. Let, the doctors alone--I haven't got any use +for 'em." + +He walked to the door, opened it, and went out and slammed it in her +face. By the time she had got it open again--a crack--he had reached the +sidewalk, and was apparently in full possession of his powers and +faculties. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A FALLING-OUT IN HIGH PLACES + +Although one of the most exciting political battles ever fought is fast +coming to its climax, and a now jubilant Mr. Crewe is contesting every +foot of ground in the State with the determination and pertinacity which +make him a marked man; although the convention wherein his fate will be +decided is now but a few days distant, and everything has been done to +secure a victory which mortal man can do, let us follow Hilary Vane to +Fairview. Not that Hilary has been idle. The "Book of Arguments" is +exhausted, and the chiefs and the captains have been to Ripton, and +received their final orders, but more than one has gone back to his fief +with the vision of a changed Hilary who has puzzled them. Rumours have +been in the air that the harmony between the Source of Power and the +Distribution of Power is not as complete as it once was. Certainly, +Hilary Vane is not the man he was--although this must not even be +whispered. Senator Whitredge had told--but never mind that. In the old +days an order was an order; there were no rebels then. In the old days +there was no wavering and rescinding, and if the chief counsel told you, +with brevity, to do a thing, you went and did it straightway, with the +knowledge that it was the best thing to do. Hilary Vane had aged +suddenly, and it occurred for the first time to many that, in this +utilitarian world, old blood must be superseded by young blood. + +Two days before the convention, immediately after taking dinner at the +Ripton House with Mr. Nat Billings, Hilary Vane, in response to a +summons, drove up to Fairview. One driving behind him would have observed +that the Honourable Hilary's horse took his own gaits, and that the +reins, most of the time, drooped listlessly on his quarters. A September +stillness was in the air, a September purple clothed the distant hills, +but to Hilary the glories of the day were as things non-existent. Even +the groom at Fairview, who took his horse, glanced back at him with a +peculiar expression as he stood for a moment on the steps with a +hesitancy the man had never before remarked. + +In the meantime Mr. Flint, with a pile of letters in a special basket on +the edge of his desk, was awaiting his counsel; the president of the +Northeastern was pacing his room, as was his wont when his activities +were for a moment curbed, or when he had something on his mind; and every +few moments he would glance towards his mantel at the clock which was set +to railroad time. In past days he had never known Hilary Vane to be a +moment late to an appointment. The door was open, and five and twenty +minutes had passed the hour before he saw the lawyer in the doorway. Mr. +Flint was a man of such preoccupation of mind that he was not likely to +be struck by any change there might have been in his counsel's +appearance. + +"It's half-past three," he said. + +Hilary entered, and sat down beside the window. + +"You mean that I'm late," he replied. + +"I've got some engineers coming here in less than an hour," said Mr. +Flint. + +"I'll be gone in less than an hour," said Hilary. + +"Well," said Mr. Flint, "let's get down to hardtack. I've got to be frank +with you, Vane, and tell you plainly that this political business is all +at sixes and sevens." + +"It isn't necessary to tell me that," said Hilary. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that I know it." + +"To put it mildly," the president of the Northeastern continued, "it's +the worst mixed-up campaign I ever knew. Here we are with the convention +only two days off, and we don't know where we stand, how many delegates +we've got, or whether this upstart at Leith is going to be nominated over +our heads. Here's Adam Hunt with his back up, declaring he's a reformer, +and all his section of the State behind him. Now if that could have been +handled otherwise--" + +"Who told Hunt to go in?" Hilary inquired. + +"Things were different then," said Mr. Flint, vigorously. "Hunt had been +promised the governorship for a long time, and when Ridout became out of +the question--" + +"Why did Ridout become out of the question?" asked Hilary. + +Mr. Flint made a gesture of impatience. + +"On account of that foolishness in the Legislature, of course." + +"That foolishness in the Legislature, as you call it, represented a +sentiment all over the State," said Hilary. "And if I'd been you, I +wouldn't have let Hunt in this year. But you didn't ask my opinion. You +asked me when you begged me to get Adam out, and I predicted that he +wouldn't get out." + +Mr. Flint took a turn up and down the room. + +"I'm sorry I didn't send for him to go to New York," he said. "Well, +anyway, the campaign's been muddled, that's certain,--whoever muddled +it." And the president looked at his counsel as though he, at least, had +no doubts on this point. But Hilary appeared unaware of the implication, +and made no reply. + +"I can't find out what Bascom and Botcher are doing," Mr. Flint went on; +"I don't get any reports--they haven't been here. Perhaps you know. +They've had trip passes enough to move the whole population of Putnam +County. Fairplay says they're gettin' delegates for Adam Hunt instead of +Giles Henderson. And Whitredge says that Jake Botcher is talking reform." + +"I guess Botcher and Bascom know their business," said Mr. Vane. If Mr. +Flint had been a less concentrated man, he might have observed that the +Honourable Hilary had not cut a piece of Honey Dew this afternoon. + +"What is their business?" asked Mr. Flint--a little irrelevantly for him. + +"What you and I taught 'em," said Mr. Vane. + +Mr. Flint considered this a moment, and decided to let it pass. He looked +at the Honourable Hilary more closely, however. + +"What's the matter with you, Vane? You're not sick, are you?" + +"No." + +Mr. Flint took another turn. + +"Now the question is, what are we going to do? If you've got any plan, I +want to hear it." + +Mr. Vane was silent. + +"Suppose Crewe goes into the convention with enough delegates to lock it +up, so that none of the three has a majority?" + +"I guess he'll do that," said Mr. Vane. He fumbled in his pocket, and +drew out a typewritten list. It must be explained that the caucuses, or +primaries, had been held in the various towns of the State at odd dates, +and that the delegates pledged for the different candidates had been +published in the newspapers from time to time--although very much in +accordance with the desires of their individual newspapers. Mr. Crewe's +delegates necessarily had been announced by what is known as political +advertising. Mr. Flint took the Honourable Hilary's list, ran his eye +over it, and whistled. + +"You mean he claims three hundred and fifty out of the thousand." + +"No," said Hilary, "he claims six hundred. He'll have three hundred and +fifty." + +In spite of the 'Book of Arguments,' Mr. Crewe was to have three hundred! +It was incredible, preposterous. Mr. Flint looked at his counsel once +more, and wondered whether he could be mentally failing. + +"Fairplay only gives him two hundred." + +"Fairplay only gave him ten, in the beginning," said Hilary. + +"You come here two days before the convention and tell me Crewe has three +hundred and fifty!" Mr. Flint exclaimed, as though Hilary Vane were +personally responsible for Mr. Crewe's delegates. A very different tone +from that of other times, when conventions were mere ratifications of +Imperial decrees. "Do you realize what it means if we lose control? +Thousands and thousands of dollars in improvements--rolling stock, better +service, new bridges, and eliminations of grade crossings. And they'll +raise our tax rate to the average, which means thousands more. A new +railroad commission that we can't talk to, and lower dividends--lower +dividends, do you understand? That means trouble with the directors, the +stockholders, and calls for explanations. And what explanations can I +make which can be printed in a public report?" + +"You were always pretty good at 'em, Flint," said Hilary. + +This remark, as was perhaps natural, did not improve the temper of the +president of the Northeastern. + +"If you think I like this political business any better than you do, +you're mightily mistaken," he replied. "And now I want to hear what plan +you've got for the convention. Suppose there's a deadlock, as you say +there will be, how are you going to handle it? Can you get a deal through +between Giles Henderson and Adam Hunt? With all my other work, I've had +to go into this myself. Hunt hasn't got a chance. Bascom and Botcher are +egging him on and making him believe he has. When Hunt gets into the +convention and begins to fall off, you've got to talk to him, Vane. And +his delegates have all got to be seen at the Pelican the night before and +understand that they're to swing to Henderson after two ballots. You've +got to keep your hand on the throttle in the convention, you understand. +And I don't need to impress upon you how grave are the consequences if +this man Crewe gets in, with public sentiment behind him and a +reactionary Lower House. You've got to keep your hand on the throttle." + +"That's part of my business, isn't it?" Hilary asked, without turning his +head. + +Mr. Flint did not answer, but his eye rested again on his counsel's face. + +"I'm that kind of a lawyer," Hilary continued, apparently more to himself +than to his companion. "You pay me for that sort of thing more than for +the work I do in the courts. Isn't that so, Flint?" + +Mr. Flint was baffled. Two qualities which were very dear to him he +designated as sane and safe, and he had hitherto regarded his counsel as +the sanest and safest of men. This remark made him wonder seriously +whether the lawyer's mind were not giving away; and if so, to whom was he +to turn at this eleventh hour? No man in the State knew the ins and outs +of conventions as did Hilary Vane; and, in the rare times when there had +been crises, he had sat quietly in the little room off the platform as at +the keyboard of an organ, and the delegates had responded to his touch. +Hilary Vane had named the presidents of conventions, and the committees, +and by pulling out stops could get such resolutions as he wished--or as +Mr. Flint wished. But now? + +Suddenly a suspicion invaded Mr. Flint's train of thought; he repeated +Hilary's words over to himself. "I'm that kind of a lawyer," and another +individuality arose before the president of the Northeastern. Instincts +are curious things. On the day, some years before, when Austen Vane had +brought his pass into this very room and laid it down on his desk, Mr. +Flint had recognized a man with whom he would have to deal,--a stronger +man than Hilary. Since then he had seen Austen's hand in various +disturbing matters, and now it was as if he heard Austen speaking. "I'm +that kind of a lawyer." Not Hilary Vane, but Hilary Vane's son was +responsible for Hilary Vane's condition--this recognition came to Mr. +Flint in a flash. Austen had somehow accomplished the incredible feat of +making Hilary Vane ashamed--and when such men as Hilary are ashamed, +their usefulness is over. Mr. Flint had seen the thing happen with a +certain kind of financiers, one day aggressive, combative, and the next +broken, querulous men. Let a man cease to believe in what he is doing, +and he loses force. + +The president of the Northeastern used a locomotive as long as possible, +but when it ceased to be able to haul a train up-grade, he sent it to the +scrap-heap. Mr. Flint was far from being a bad man, but he worshipped +power, and his motto was the survival of the fittest. He did not yet feel +pity for Hilary--for he was angry. Only contempt,--contempt that one who +had been a power should come to this. To draw a somewhat far-fetched +parallel, a Captain Kidd or a Caesar Borgia with a conscience would never +have been heard of. Mr. Flint did not call it a conscience--he had a +harder name for it. He had to send Hilary, thus vitiated, into the +Convention to conduct the most important battle since the founding of the +Empire, and Austen Vane was responsible. + +Mr. Flint had to control himself. In spite of his feelings, he saw that +he must do so. And yet he could not resist saying: "I get a good many +rumours here. They tell me that there may be another candidate in the +field--a dark horse." + +"Who?" asked Hilary. + +"There was a meeting in the room of a man named Redbrook during the +Legislature to push this candidate," said Mr. Flint, eyeing his counsel +significantly, "and now young Gaylord has been going quietly around the +State in his interest." + +Suddenly the listless figure of Hilary Vane straightened, and the old +look which had commanded the respect and obedience of men returned to his +eye. + +"You mean my son?" he demanded. + +"Yes," said Mr. Flint; "they tell me that when the time comes, your, son +will be a candidate on a platform opposed to our interests." + +"Then," said Hilary, "they tell you a damned lie." + +Hilary Vane had not sworn for a quarter of a century, and yet it is to be +doubted if he ever spoke more nobly. He put his hands on the arms of his +chair and lifted himself to his feet, where he stood for a moment, a tell +figure to be remembered. Mr. Flint remembered it for many years. Hilary +Vane's long coat was open, and seemed in itself to express this strange +and new-found vigour in its flowing lines; his head was thrown back, and +a look on his face which Mr. Flint had never seen there. He drew from an +inner pocket a long envelope, and his hand trembled, though with seeming +eagerness, as he held it out to Mr. Flint. + +"Here!" he said. + +"What's this?" asked Mr. Flint. He evinced no desire to take it, but +Hilary pressed it on him. + +"My resignation as counsel for your road." + +The president of the Northeastern, bewildered by this sudden +transformation, stared at the envelope. + +"What? Now--to-day?" he said. + +"No," answered Hilary; "read it. You'll see it takes effect the day after +the State convention. I'm not much use any more you've done your best to +bring that home to me, and you'll need a new man to do--the kind of work +I've been doing for you for twenty-five years. But you can't get a new +man in a day, and I said I'd stay with you, and I keep my word. I'll go +to the convention; I'll do my best for you, as I always have. But I don't +like it, and after that I'm through. After that I become a +lawyer--lawyer, do you understand?" + +"A lawyer?" Mr. Flint repeated. + +"Yes, a lawyer. Ever since last June, when I came up here, I've realized +what I was. A Brush Bascom, with a better education and more brains, but +a Brush Bascom--with the brains prostituted. While things were going +along smoothly I didn't know--you never attempted to talk to me this way +before. Do you remember how you took hold of me that day, and begged me +to stay? I do, and I stayed. Why? Because I was a friend of yours. +Association with you for twenty-five years had got under my skin, and I +thought it had got under yours." Hilary let his hand fall. "To-day you've +given me a notion of what friendship is. You've given me a chance to +estimate myself on a new basis, and I'm much obliged to you for that. I +haven't got many years left, but I'm glad to have found out what my life +has been worth before I die." + +He buttoned up his coat slowly, glaring at Mr. Flint the while with a +courage and a defiance that were superb. And he had picked up his hat +before Mr. Flint found his tongue. + +"You don't mean that, Vane," he cried. "My God, think what you've said!" + +Hilary pointed at the desk with a shaking finger. + +"If that were a scaffold, and a rope were around my neck, I'd say it over +again. And I thank God I've had a chance to say it to you." He paused, +cleared his throat, and continued in a voice that all at once had become +unemotional and natural. "I've three tin boxes of the private papers you +wanted. I didn't think of 'em to-day, but I'll bring 'em up to you myself +on Thursday." + +Mr. Flint reflected afterwards that what made him helpless must have been +the sudden change in Hilary's manner to the commonplace. The president of +the Northeastern stood where he was, holding the envelope in his hand, +apparently without the power to move or speak. He watched the tall form +of his chief counsel go through the doorway, and something told him that +that exit was coincident with the end of an era. + +The end of an era of fraud, of self-deception, of conditions that +violated every sacred principle of free government which men had shed +blood to obtain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +AN ADVENTURE OF VICTORIA'S + +Mrs. Pomfret was a proud woman, for she had at last obtained the consent +of the lion to attend a lunch party. She would have liked a dinner much +better, but beggars are not choosers, and she seized eagerly on the +lunch. The two days before the convention Mr. Crewe was to spend at +Leith; having continual conferences, of course, receiving delegations, +and discussing with prominent citizens certain offices which would be in +his gift when he became governor. Also, there was Mr. Watling's +nominating speech to be gone over carefully, and Mr. Crewe's own speech +of acceptance to be composed. He had it in his mind, and he had decided +that it should have two qualities: it should be brief and forceful. + +Gratitude, however, is one of the noblest qualities of man, and a +statesman should not fail to reward his faithful workers and adherents. +As one of the chiefest of these, Mrs. Pomfret was entitled to high +consideration. Hence the candidate had consented to have a lunch given in +his honour, naming the day and the hour; and Mrs. Pomfret, believing that +a prospective governor should possess some of the perquisites of royalty, +in a rash moment submitted for his approval a list of guests. This +included two distinguished foreigners who were staying at the Leith Inn, +an Englishman and an Austrian, and an elderly lady of very considerable +social importance who was on a visit to Mrs. Pomfret. + +Mr. Crewe had graciously sanctioned the list, but took the liberty of +suggesting as an addition to it the name of Miss Victoria Flint, +explaining over the telephone to Mrs. Pomfret that he had scarcely seen +Victoria all summer, and that he wanted particularly to see her. Mrs. +Pomfret declared that she had only left out Victoria because her presence +might be awkward for both of them, but Mr. Crewe waved this aside as a +trivial and feminine objection; so Victoria was invited, and another +young man to balance the table. + +Mrs. Pomfret, as may have been surmised, was a woman of taste, and her +villa at Leith, though small, had added considerably to her reputation +for this quality. Patterson Pomfret had been a gentleman with red cheeks +and an income, who incidentally had been satisfied with both. He had +never tried to add to the income, which was large enough to pay the dues +of the clubs the lists of which he thought worthy to include his name; +large enough to pay hotel bills in London and Paris and at the baths, and +to free the servants at country houses; large enough to clothe his wife +and himself, and to teach Alice the three essentials of music, French, +and deportment. If that man is notable who has mastered one thing well, +Patterson Pomfret was a notable man: he had mastered the possibilities of +his income, and never in any year had he gone beyond it by so much as a +sole d vin blanc or a pair of red silk stockings. When he died, he left a +worthy financial successor in his wife. + +Mrs. Pomfret, knowing the income, after an exhaustive search decided upon +Leith as the place to build her villa. It must be credited to her +foresight that, when she built, she saw the future possibilities of the +place. The proper people had started it. And it must be credited to her +genius that she added to these possibilities of Leith by bringing to it +such families as she thought worthy to live in the neighbourhood +--families which incidentally increased the value of the land. Her villa +had a decided French look, and was so amazingly trim and neat and +generally shipshape as to be fit--for only the daintiest and most +discriminating feminine occupation. The house was small, and its +metamorphosis from a plain wooden farm-house had been an achievement that +excited general admiration. Porches had been added, and a coat of +spotless white relieved by an orange striping so original that many +envied, but none dared to copy it. The striping went around the white +chimneys, along the cornice, under the windows and on the railings of the +porch: there were window boxes gay with geraniums and abundant awnings +striped white and red, to match the flowers: a high, formal hemlock hedge +hid the house from the road, through which entered a blue-stone drive +that cut the close-cropped lawn and made a circle to the doorway. Under +the great maples on the lawn were a tea-table, rugs, and wicker chairs, +and the house itself was furnished by a variety of things of a design not +to be bought in the United States of America: desks, photograph frames, +writing-sets, clocks, paperknives, flower baskets, magazine racks, +cigarette boxes, and dozens of other articles for the duplicates of which +one might have searched Fifth Avenue in vain. + +Mr. Crewe was a little late. Important matters, he said, had detained him +at the last moment, and he particularly enjoined Mrs. Pomfret's butler to +listen carefully for the telephone, and twice during lunch it was +announced that Mr. Crewe was wanted. At first he was preoccupied, and +answered absently across the table the questions of the Englishman and +the Austrian about American politics, and talked to the lady of social +prominence on his right not at all; nor to Mrs. Pomfret'--who excused +him. Being a lady of discerning qualities, however, the hostess remarked +that Mr. Crewe's eyes wandered more than once to the far end of the oval +table, where Victoria sat, and even Mrs. Pomfret could not deny the +attraction. Victoria wore a filmy gown of mauve that infinitely became +her, and a shadowy hat which, in the semi-darkness of the dining room, +was a wondrous setting for her shapely head. Twice she caught Mr. Crewe's +look upon her and returned it amusedly from under her lashes,--and once +he could have sworn that she winked perceptibly. What fires she kindled +in his deep nature it is impossible to say. + +She had kindled other fires at her side. The tall young Englishman had +lost interest in American politics, had turned his back upon poor Alice +Pomfret, and had forgotten the world in general. Not so the Austrian, who +was on the other side of Alice, and who could not see Victoria. Mr. +Crewe, by his manner and appearance, had impressed him as a person of +importance, and he wanted to know more. Besides, he wished to improve his +English, and Alice had been told to speak French to him. By a lucky +chance, after several blind attempts, he awakened the interest of the +personality. + +"I hear you are what they call reform in America?" + +This was not the question that opened the gates. + +"I don't care much for the word," answered Mr. Crewe, shortly; "I prefer +the word progressive." + +Discourse on the word "progressive" by the Austrian almost a monologue. +But he was far from being discouraged. + +"And Mrs. Pomfret tells me they play many detestable tricks on you--yes?" + +"Tricks!" exclaimed Mr. Crewe, the memory of many recent ones being fresh +in his mind; "I should say so. Do you know what a caucus is?" + +"Caucus--caucus? It brings something to my head. Ah, I have seen a +picture of it, in some English book. A very funny picture--it is in fun, +yes?" + +"A picture?" said Mr. Crewe. "Impossible!" + +"But no," said the Austrian, earnestly, with one finger to his temples. +"It is a funny picture, I know. I cannot recall. But the word caucus I +remember. That is a droll word." + +"Perhaps, Baron," said Victoria, who had been resisting an almost +uncontrollable desire to laugh, "you have been reading 'Alice in +Wonderland.'" + +The Englishman, Beatrice Chillingham, and some others (among whom were +not Mr. Crewe and Mrs. Pomfret) gave way to an extremely pardonable +mirth, in which the good-natured baron joined. + +"Ach!" he cried. "It is so, I have seen it in 'Alice in Wonderland.'" +Here the puzzled expression returned to his face, "But they are birds, +are they not?" + +Men whose minds are on serious things are impatient of levity, and Mr. +Crewe looked at the baron: + +"No," he said, "they are not birds." + +This reply was the signal for more laughter. + +"A thousand pardons," exclaimed the baron. "It is I who am so ignorant. +You will excuse me--yes?" + +Mr. Crewe was mollified. The baron was a foreigner, he had been the +object of laughter, and Mr. Crewe's chivalrous spirit resented it. + +"What we call a caucus in the towns of this State," he said, "is a +meeting of citizens of one party to determine who their candidates shall +be. A caucus is a primary. There is a very loose primary law in this +State, purposely kept loose by the politicians of the Northeastern +Railroads, in order that they may play such tricks on decent men as they +have been playing on me." + +At this mention of the Northeastern Railroads the lady on Mr. Crewe's +right, and some other guests, gave startled glances at Victoria. They +observed with surprise that she seemed quite unmoved. + +"I'll tell you one or two of the things those railroad lobbyists have +done," said Mr. Crewe, his indignation rising with the subject, and still +addressing the baron. "They are afraid to let the people into the +caucuses, because they know I'll get the delegates. Nearly everywhere I +speak to the people, I get the delegates. The railroad politicians send +word to the town rings to hold snap caucuses' when they hear I'm coming +into a town to speak, and the local politicians give out notices only a +day before, and only to the voters they want in the caucus. In Hull the +other day, out of a population of two thousand, twenty men elected four +delegates for the railroad candidate." + +"It is corruption!" cried the baron, who had no idea who Victoria was, +and a very slim notion of what Mr. Crewe was talking about. + +"Corruption!" said Mr. Crewe. "What can you expect when a railroad owns a +State? The other day in Britain, where they elect fourteen delegates, the +editor of a weekly newspaper printed false ballots with two of my men at +the top and one at the bottom, and eleven railroad men in the middle. +Fortunately some person with sense discovered the fraud before it was too +late." + +"You don't tell me!" said the baron. + +"And every State and federal office-holder has been distributing passes +for the last three weeks." + +"Pass?" repeated the baron. "You mean they fight with the fist--so? To +distribute a pass--so," and the baron struck out at an imaginary enemy. +"It is the American language. I have read it in the prize-fight. I am +told to read the prize-fight and the base-ball game." + +Mr. Crewe thought it obviously useless to continue this conversation. + +"The railroad," said the baron, "he is the modern Machiavelli." + +"I say," Mr. Rangely, the Englishman, remarked to Victoria, "this is a +bit rough on you, you know." + +"Oh, I'm used to it," she laughed. + +"Mr. Crewe," said Mrs. Pomfret, to the table at large, "deserves +tremendous credit for the fight he has made, almost single-handed. Our +greatest need in this country is what you have in England, Mr. Rangely, +--gentlemen in politics. Our country gentlemen, like Mr. Crewe, are now +going to assume their proper duties and responsibilities." She laid her +napkin on the table and glanced at Alice as she continued: "Humphrey, I +shall have to appoint you, as usual, the man of the house. Will you take +the gentlemen into the library?" + +Another privilege of celebrity is to throw away one's cigar, and walk out +of the smoking room if one is bored. Mr. Crewe was, in a sense, the host. +He indicated with a wave of his hand the cigars and cigarettes which Mrs. +Pomfret had provided, and stood in a thoughtful manner before the empty +fireplace, with his hands in his pockets, replying in brief sentences to +the questions of Mr. Chillingham and the others. To tell the truth, Mr. +Crewe was bringing to bear all of his extraordinary concentration of mind +upon a problem with which he had been occupied for some years past. He +was not a man, as we know, to take the important steps of life in a +hurry, although; like the truly great, he was capable of making up his +mind in a very brief period when it was necessary to strike. He had now, +after weighing the question with the consideration which its gravity +demanded, finally decided upon definite action. Whereupon he walked out +of the library, leaving the other guests to comment as they would; or not +comment at all, for all he cared. Like all masterful men, he went direct +to the thing he wanted. + +The ladies were having coffee under the maples, by the tea-table. At some +little distance from the group Beatrice Chillingham was walking with +Victoria, and it was evident that Victoria found Miss Chillingham's +remarks amusing. These were the only two in the party who did not observe +Mr. Crewe's approach. Mrs. Pomfret, when she saw the direction which he +was taking, lost the thread of her conversation, and the lady who was +visiting her wore a significant expression. + +"Victoria," said Mr. Crewe, "let's go around to the other side of the +house and look at the view." + +Victoria started and turned to him from Miss Chillingham, with the fun +still sparkling in her eyes. It was, perhaps, as well for Mr. Crewe that +he had not overheard their conversation; but this might have applied to +any man. + +"Are you sure you can spare the time?" she asked. + +Mr. Crewe looked at his watch--probably from habit. + +"I made it a point to leave the smoking room early," he replied. + +"We're flattered--aren't we, Beatrice?" + +Miss Chillingham had a turned-up nose, and a face which was apt to be +slightly freckled at this time of year; for she contemned vanity and +veils. For fear of doing her an injustice, it must be added that she was +not at all bad-looking; quite the contrary All that can be noted in this +brief space is that Beatrice Chillingham was herself. Some people +declared that she was possessed of the seven devils of her sex which Mr. +Stockton wrote about. + +"I'm flattered," she said, and walked off towards the tea-table with a +glance in which Victoria read many meanings. Mr. Crewe paid no attention +either to words, look, or departure. + +"I want to talk to you," he said. + +"You've made that very plain, at least," answered Victoria. "Why did you +pretend it was the view?" + +"Some conventionalities have to be observed, I suppose," he said. "Let's +go around there. It is a good view." + +"Don't you think this is a little--marked?" asked Victoria, surveying him +with her hands behind her back. + +"I can't help it if it is," said Mr. Crewe. "Every hour is valuable to +me, and I've got to take my chances when I get 'em. For some reason, you +haven't been down at Leith much this summer. Why didn't you telephone me, +as I asked you." + +"Because I've suddenly grown dignified, I suppose," she said. "And then, +of course, I hesitated to intrude upon such a person of importance as you +have become, Humphrey." + +"I've always got time to see you," he replied. "I always shall have. But +I appreciate your delicacy. That sort of thing counts with a man more +than most women know." + +"Then I am repaid," said Victoria, "for exercising self-control." + +"I find it always pays," declared Mr. Crewe, and he glanced at her with +distinct approval. They were skirting the house, and presently came out +upon a tiny terrace where young Ridley had made a miniature Italian +garden when the Electric dividends had increased, and from which there +was a vista of the shallows of the Blue. Here was a stone garden-seat +which Mrs. Pomfret had brought from Italy, and over which she had +quarrelled with the customs authorities. Mr. Crewe, with a wave of his +hand, signified his pleasure that they should sit, and cleared his +throat. + +"It's just as well, perhaps," he began, "that we haven't had the chance +to see each other earlier. When a man starts out upon an undertaking of +the gravest importance, wherein he stakes his reputation, an undertaking +for which he is ridiculed and reviled, he likes to have his judgment +justified. He likes to be vindicated, especially in the eyes of--people +whom he cares about. Personally, I never had any doubt that I should be +the next governor, because I knew in the beginning that I had estimated +public sentiment correctly. The man who succeeds in this world is the man +who has sagacity enough to gauge public sentiment ahead of time, and the +courage to act on his beliefs." Victoria looked at him steadily. He was +very calm, and he had one knee crossed over the other. + +"And the sagacity," she added, "to choose his lieutenants in the fight." + +"Exactly," said Mr. Crewe. "I have always declared, Victoria, that you +had a natural aptitude for affairs." + +"I have heard my father say," she continued, still maintaining her steady +glance, "that Hamilton Tooting is one of the shrewdest politicians he has +ever known. Isn't Mr. Tooting one of your right-hand men?" + +"He could hardly be called that," Mr. Crewe replied. "In fact, I haven't +any what you might call 'right-hand men.' The large problems I have had +to decide for myself. As for Tooting, he's well enough in his way; he +understands the tricks of the politicians--he's played 'em, I guess. He's +uneducated; he's merely a worker. You see," he went on, "one great reason +why I've been so successful is because I've been practical. I've taken +materials as I've found them." + +"I see," answered Victoria, turning her head and gazing over the terrace +at the sparkling reaches of the river. She remembered the close of that +wintry afternoon in Mr. Crewe's house at the capital, and she was quite +willing to do him exact justice, and to believe that he had forgotten it +--which, indeed, was the case. + +"I want to say," he continued, "that although I have known and--ahem +--admired you for many years, Victoria, what has struck me most forcibly +in your favour has been your open-mindedness--especially on the great +political questions this summer. I have no idea how much you know about +them, but one would naturally have expected you, on account of your +father, to be prejudiced. Sometime, when I have more leisure, I shall go +into them, fully with you. And in the meantime I'll have my secretary +send you the complete list of my speeches up to date, and I know you will +read them carefully." + +"You are very kind, Humphrey," she said. + +Absorbed in the presentation of his subject (which chanced to be +himself), Mr. Crewe did not observe that her lips were parted, and that +there were little creases around her eyes. + +"And sometime," said Mr. Crewe, when all this has blown over a little, I +shall have a talk with your father. He undoubtedly understands that there +is scarcely any question of my election. He probably realizes, too, that +he has been in the--wrong, and that railroad domination must cease--he +has already made several concessions, as you know. I wish you would tell +him from me that when I am governor, I shall make it a point to discuss +the whole matter with him, and that he will find in me no foe of +corporations. Justice is what I stand for. Temperamentally, I am too +conservative, I am too much of a business man, to tamper with vested +interests." + +"I will tell him, Humphrey," said Victoria. + +Mr. Crewe coughed, and looked at his watch once, more. "And now, having +made that clear," he said, "and having only a quarter of an hour before I +have to leave to keep an appointment, I am going to take up another +subject. And I ask you to believe it is not done lightly, or without due +consideration, but as the result of some years of thought." + +Victoria turned to him seriously--and yet the creases were still around +her eyes. + +"I can well believe it, Humphrey," she answered. "But--have you time?" + +"Yes," he said, "I have learned the value of minutes." + +"But not of hours, perhaps," she replied. + +"That," said Mr. Crewe, indulgently, "is a woman's point of view. A man +cannot dally through life, and your kind of woman has no use for a man +who dallies. First, I will give you my idea of a woman." + +"I am all attention," said Victoria. + +"Well," said Mr. Crewe, putting the tops of his fingers together, "she +should excel as a housewife. I haven't any use for your so-called +intellectual woman. Of course, what I mean by a housewife is something a +little less bourgeoise; she should be able to conduct an establishment +with the neatness and despatch and economy of a well-run hotel. She +should be able to seat a table instantly and accurately, giving to the +prominent guests the prestige they deserve. Nor have I any sympathy with +the notion that makes a married woman a law unto herself. She enters +voluntarily into an agreement whereby she puts herself under the control +of her husband: his interests, his career, his--" + +"Comfort?" suggested Victoria. + +"Yes, his comfort--all that comes first. And his establishment is +conducted primarily, and his guests selected, in the interests of his +fortunes. Of course, that goes without saying of a man in high place in +public life. But he must choose for his wife a woman who is equal to all +these things,--to my mind her highest achievement,--who makes the most of +the position he gives her, presides at his table and entertainments, and +reaches such people as, for any reason, he is unable to reach. I have +taken the pains to point out these things in a general way, for obvious +reasons. My greatest desire is to be fair." + +"What," asked Victoria, with her eyes on the river, "what are the wages?" + +Mr. Crewe laughed. Incidentally, he thought her profile very fine. + +"I do not believe in flattery," he said, "but I think I should add to the +qualifications personality and a sense of humour. I am quite sure I could +never live with a woman--who didn't have a sense of humour." + +"I should think it would be a little difficult," said Victoria, "to get a +woman with the qualifications you enumerate and a sense of humour thrown +in." + +"Infinitely difficult," declared Mr. Crewe, with more ardour than he had +yet shown. "I have waited a good many years, Victoria." + +"And yet," she said, "you have been happy. You have a perpetual source of +enjoyment denied to some people." + +"What is that?" he asked. It is natural for a man to like to hear the +points of his character discussed by a discerning woman. + +"Yourself," said Victoria, suddenly looking him full in the face. "You +are complete, Humphrey, as it is. You are happily married already. +Besides," she added, laughing a little, "the qualities you have +mentioned--with the exception of the sense of humour--are not those of a +wife, but of a business partner of the opposite sex. What you really want +is a business partner with something like a fifth interest, and whose +name shall not appear in the agreement." + +Mr. Crewe laughed again. Nevertheless, he was a little puzzled over this +remark. + +"I am not sentimental," he began. + +"You certainly are not," she said. + +"You have a way," he replied, with a shade of reproof in his voice, "you +have a way at times of treating serious things with a little less gravity +than they deserve. I am still a young man, but I have seen a good deal of +life, and I know myself pretty well. It is necessary to treat matrimony +from a practical as well as a sentimental point of view. There wouldn't +be half the unhappiness and divorces if people took time to do this, +instead of rushing off and getting married immediately. And of course it +is especially important for a man in my position to study every aspect of +the problem before he takes a step." + +By this time a deep and absorbing interest in a new aspect of Mr. Crewe's +character had taken possession of Victoria. + +"And you believe that, by taking thought, you can get the kind of a wife +you want?" she asked. + +"Certainly," he replied; "does that strike you as strange?" + +"A little," said Victoria. "Suppose," she added gently, "suppose that the +kind of wife you'd want wouldn't want you?" + +Mr. Crewe laughed again. + +"That is a contingency which a strong man does not take into +consideration," he answered. "Strong men get what they want. But upon my +word, Victoria, you have a delicious way of putting things. In your +presence I quite forget the problems and perplexities which beset me. +That," he said, with delicate meaning, "that is another quality I should +desire in a woman." + +"It is one, fortunately, that isn't marketable," she said, "and it's the +only quality you've mentioned that's worth anything." + +"A woman's valuation," said Mr. Crewe. + +"If it made you forget your own affairs, it would be priceless." + +"Look here, Victoria," cried Mr. Crewe, uncrossing his knees, "joking's +all very well, but I haven't time for it to-day. And I'm in a serious +mood. I've told you what I want, and now that I've got to go in a few +minutes, I'll come to the point. I don't suppose a man could pay a woman +a higher compliment than to say that his proposal was the result of some +years of thought and study." + +Here Victoria laughed outright, but grew serious again at once. + +"Unless he proposed to her the day he met her. That would be a real +compliment." + +"The man," said Mr. Crewe, impatiently, "would be a fool." + +"Or else a person of extreme discernment," said Victoria. "And love is +lenient with fools. By the way, Humphrey, it has just occurred to me that +there's one quality which some people think necessary in a wife, which +you didn't mention." + +"What's that?" + +"Love," said Victoria. + +"Love, of course," he agreed; "I took that for granted." + +"I supposed you did," said Victoria, meekly. + +"Well, now, to come to the point--" he began again. + +But she interrupted him by glancing at the watch on her gown, and rising. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, with some annoyance. + +"The fifteen minutes are up," she announced. "I cannot take the +responsibility of detaining you." + +"We will put in tantalizing as another attractive quality," he laughed. +"I absolve you of all responsibility. Sit down." + +"I believe you mentioned obedience," she answered, and sat down again at +the end of the bench, resting her chin on her gloved hand, and looking at +him. By this time her glances seemed to have gained a visibly disturbing +effect. He moved a little nearer to her, took off his hat (which he had +hitherto neglected to do), and thrust his hands abruptly into his +pockets--as much as to say that he would not be responsible for their +movements if they were less free. + +"Hang it all, Victoria," he exclaimed, "I'm a practical man, and I try to +look at this, which is one of the serious things in life, in a practical +way." + +"One of the serious things," she repeated, as though to herself. + +"Yes," he said, "certainly." + +"I merely asked to be sure of the weight you gave it. Go on." + +"In a practical way, as I was saying. Long ago I suspected that you had +most of those qualities." + +"I'm overwhelmed, Humphrey," she cried, with her eyes dancing. "But--do +you think I could cultivate the rest?" + +"Oh, well," said Mr. Crewe, I put it that way because no woman is +perfect, and I dislike superlatives." + +"I should think superlatives would be very hard to live with," she +reflected. "But--dreadful thought!--suppose I should lack an essential?" + +"What--for instance?" + +"Love--for instance. But then you did not put it first. It was I who +mentioned it, and you who took it for granted." + +"Affection seems to be a more sensible term for it," he said. "Affection +is the lasting and sensible thing. You mentioned a partnership, a word +that singularly fits into my notion of marriage. I want to be honest with +you, and understate my feelings on that subject." + +Victoria, who had been regarding him with a curious look that puzzled +him, laughed again. + +"I have been hoping you haven't exaggerated them," she replied. + +"They're stronger than you think," he declared. "I never felt this way in +my life before. What I meant to say was, that I never understood running +away with a woman." + +"That does not surprise me," said Victoria. + +"I shouldn't know where to run to," he proclaimed. + +"Perhaps the woman would, if you got a clever one. At any rate, it +wouldn't matter. One place is as good as another. Some go to Niagara, and +some to Coney Island, and others to Venice. Personally, I should have no +particular preference." + +"No preference!" he exclaimed. + +"I could be happy in Central Park," she declared. + +"Fortunately," said Mr. Crewe, "you will never be called upon to make the +trial." + +Victoria was silent. Her thoughts, for the moment, had flown elsewhere, +but Mr. Crewe did not appear to notice this. He fell back into the +rounded hollow of the bench, and it occurred to him that he had never +quite realized that profile. And what an ornament she would be to his +table. + +"I think, Humphrey," she said, "that we should be going back." + +"One moment, and I'll have finished," he cried. "I've no doubt you are +prepared for what I am going to say. I have purposely led up to it, in +order that there might be no misunderstanding. In short, I have never +seen another woman with personal characteristics so well suited for my +life, and I want you to marry me, Victoria. I can offer you the position +of the wife of a man with a public career--for which you are so well +fitted." + +Victoria shook her head slowly, and smiled at him. + +"I couldn't fill the position," she said. + +"Perhaps," he replied, smiling back at her, "perhaps I am the best judge +of that." + +"And you thought," she asked slowly, "that I was that kind of a woman?" + +"I know it to be a practical certainty," said Mr. Crewe. + +"Practical certainties," said Victoria, "are not always truths. If I +should sign a contract, which I suppose, as a business man, you would +want, to live up to the letter of your specifications,--even then I could +not do it. I should make life a torture for you, Humphrey. You see, I am +honest with you, too--much as your offer dazzles me." And she shook her +head again. + +"That," exclaimed Mr. Crewe, impatiently, "is sheer nonsense. I want you, +and I mean to have you." + +There came a look into her eyes which Mr. Crewe did not see, because her +face was turned from him. + +"I could be happy," she said, "for days and weeks and years in a but on +the side of Sawanec. I could be happy in a farm-house where I had to do +all the work. I am not the model housewife which your imagination +depicts, Humphrey. I could live in two rooms and eat at an Italian +restaurant--with the right man. And I am afraid the wrong one would wake +up one day and discover that I had gone. I am sorry to disillusionize +you, but I don't care a fig for balls and garden-parties and salons. It +would be much more fun to run away from them to the queer places of the +earth--with the right man. And I should have to possess one essential to +put up with--greatness and what you call a public career." + +"And what is that essential?" he asked. + +"Love," said Victoria. He heard the word but faintly, for her face was +still turned away from him. "You've offered me the things that are +attainable by taking thought, by perseverance, by pertinacity, by the +outwitting of your fellow-men, by the stacking of coins. And I want--the +unattainable, the divine gift which is bestowed, which cannot be +acquired. If it could be acquired, Humphrey," she added, looking at him, +"I am sure you would acquire it--if you thought it worth while." + +"I don't understand you," he said,--and looked it. + +"No," said Victoria, "I was afraid you wouldn't. And moreover, you never +would. There is no use in my trying to make myself any clearer, and +you'll have to keep your appointment. I hesitate to contradict you, but I +am not the kind of woman you want. That is one reason I cannot marry you. +And the other is, that I do not love you." + +"You can't be in love with any one else?" he cried. + +"That does seem rather preposterous, I'll admit," she answered. "But if I +were, it wouldn't make any difference." + +"You won't marry me?" he said, getting to his feet. There was incredulity +in his voice, and a certain amount of bewilderment. The thing was indeed +incredible! + +"No," said Victoria, "I won't." + +And he had only to look into her face to see that it was so. Hitherto nil +desperandum had been a good working motto, but something told him it was +useless in this case. He thrust on his hat and pulled out his watch. + +"Well," he said, "that settles it. I must--say I can't see your point of +view--but that settles it. I must say, too, that your refusal is +something of a shock after what I had been led to expect after the past +few years." + +"The person you are in love with led you to expect it, Humphrey, and that +person is--yourself. You are in love temporarily with your own ideal of +me." + +"And your refusal comes at an unfortunate tune for me," he continued, not +heeding her words, "when I have an affair on my hands of such magnitude, +which requires concentrated thought. But I'm not a man to cry, and I'll +make the best of it." + +"If I thought it were more than a temporary disappointment, I should be +sorry for you," said Victoria. "I remember that you felt something like +this when Mr. Rutter wouldn't sell you his land. The lady you really +want," she added, pointing with her parasol at the house, "is in there, +waiting for you." + +Mr. Crewe did not reply to this prophecy, but followed Victoria around +the house to the group on the lawn, where he bade his hostess a somewhat +preoccupied farewell, and bowed distantly to the guests. + +"He has so much on his mind," said Mrs. Pomfret. "And oh, I quite +forgot--Humphrey!" she cried, calling after him, "Humphrey!" + +"Yes," he said, turning before he reached his automobile. "What is it?" + +"Alice and I are going to the convention, you know, and I meant to tell +you that there would be ten in the party--but I didn't have a chance." +Here Mrs. Pomfret glanced at Victoria, who had been joined at once by the +tall Englishman. "Can you get tickets for ten?" + +Mr. Crewe made a memorandum. + +"Yes," he said, "I'll get the tickets--but I don't see what you want to +go for." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MORE ADVENTURER + +Victoria had not, of course, confided in Beatrice Chillingham what had +occurred in the garden, although that lady had exhibited the liveliest +interest, and had had her suspicions. After Mr. Crewe's departure Mr. +Rangely, the tall young Englishman, had renewed his attentions +assiduously, although during the interval in the garden he had found Miss +Chillingham a person of discernment. + +"She's not going to marry that chap, is she, Miss Chillingham?" he had +asked. + +"No," said Beatrice; "you have my word for it, she isn't." + +As she was leaving, Mrs. Pomfret had taken Victoria's hand and drawn her +aside, and looked into her face with a meaning smile. + +"My dear!" she exclaimed, "he particularly asked that you be invited." + +"Who?" said Victoria. + +"Humphrey. He stipulated that you should be here." + +"Then I'm very much obliged to him," said Victoria, "for I've enjoyed +myself immensely. I like your Englishman so much." + +"Do you?" said Mrs. Pomfret, searching Victoria's face, while her own +brightened. "He's heir to one of the really good titles, and he has an +income of his own. I couldn't put him up here, in this tiny box, because +I have Mrs. Fronde. We are going to take him to the convention--and if +you'd care to go, Victoria--?" + +Victoria laughed. + +"It isn't as serious as that," she said. "And I'm afraid I can't go to +the convention--I have some things to do in the neighbourhood." + +Mrs. Pomfret looked wise. + +"He's a most attractive man, with the best prospects. It would be a +splendid match for you, Victoria." + +"Mrs. Pomfret," replied Victoria, wavering between amusement and a desire +to be serious, "I haven't the slightest intention of making what you call +a 'match.'" And there was in her words a ring of truth not to be +mistaken. + +Mrs. Pomfret kissed her. + +"One never can tell what may happen," she said. "Think of him, Victoria. +And your dear mother--perhaps you will know some day what the +responsibility is of seeing a daughter well placed in life." + +Victoria coloured, and withdrew her hand. + +"I fear that time is a long way off, Mrs. Pomfret," she replied. + +"I think so much of Victoria," Mrs. Pomfret declared a moment later to +her guest; "she's like my own daughter. But at times she's so hopelessly +unconventional. Why, I believe Rangely's actually going home with her." + +"He asked her to drop him at the Inn," said Mrs. Fronde. "He's head over +heels in love already." + +"It would be such a relief to dear Rose," sighed Mrs. Pomfret. + +"I like the girl," replied Mrs. Fronde, dryly. "She has individuality, +and knows her own mind. Whoever she marries will have something to him." + +"I devoutly hope so!" said Mrs. Pomfret. + +It was quite true that Mr. Arthur Rangely had asked Victoria to drop him +at the Inn. But when they reached it he made another request. + +"Do you mind if I go a bit farther, Miss Flint?" he suggested. "I'd +rather like the walk back." + +Victoria laughed. + +"Do come," she said. + +He admired the country, but he looked at Victoria, and asked a hundred +exceedingly frank questions about Leith, about Mrs. Pomfret, whom he had +met at his uncle's seat in Devonshire, and about Mr. Crewe and the +railroads in politics. Many of these Victoria parried, and she came +rapidly to the conclusion that Mr. Arthur Rangely was a more astute +person than--to a casual observer he would seem. + +He showed no inclination to fix the limits of his walk, and made no +protest as she drove under the stone archway at the entrance of Fairview. +Victoria was amused and interested, and she decided that she liked Mr. +Rangely. + +"Will you come up for tea?" she asked. "I'll send you home." + +He accepted with alacrity. They had reached the first turn when their +attention was caught by the sight of a buggy ahead of them, and facing +towards them. The horse, with the reins hanging loosely over the shafts, +had strayed to the side of the driveway and was contentedly eating the +shrubbery that lined it. Inside the vehicle, hunched up in the corner of +the seat, was a man who presented an appearance of helplessness which +struck them both with a sobering effect. + +"Is the fellow drunk?" said Mr. Rangely. + +Victoria's answer was a little cry which startled him, and drew his look +to her. She had touched her horse with the whip, and her eyes had widened +in real alarm. + +"It's Hilary Vane!" she exclaimed. "I--I wonder what can have happened!" + +She handed the reins to Mr. Rangely, and sprang out and flew to Hilary's +side. + +"Mr. Vane!" she cried. "What's the matter? Are you ill?" + +She had never seen him look so. To her he had always been as one on whom +pity would be wasted, as one who long ago had established his credit with +the universe to his own satisfaction. But now, suddenly, intense pity +welled up within her, and even in that moment she wondered if it could be +because he was Austen's father. His hands were at his sides, his head was +fallen forward a little, and his face was white. But his eyes frightened +her most; instead of the old, semi-defiant expression which she +remembered from childhood, they had in them a dumb suffering that went to +her heart. He looked at her, tried to straighten up, and fell back again. + +"N--nothing's the matter," he said, "nothing. A little spell. I'll be all +right in a moment." + +Victoria did not lose an instant, but climbed into the buggy at his side +and gathered up the reins, and drew the fallen lap-robe over his knees. + +"I'm going to take you back to Fairview," she said. "And we'll telephone +for a doctor." + +But she had underrated the amount of will left in him. He did not move, +though indeed if he had seized the reins from her hands, he could have +given her no greater effect of surprise. Life came back into the eyes at +the summons, and dominance into the voice, although he breathed heavily. + +"No, you're not," he said; "no, you're not. I'm going to Ripton--do you +understand? I'll be all right in a minute, and I'll take the lines." + +Victoria, when she got over her astonishment at this, reflected quickly. +She glanced at him, and the light of his expression was already fading. +There was some reason why he did not wish to go back to Fairview, and +common sense told her that agitation was not good for him; besides, they +would have to telephone to Ripton for a physician, and it was quicker to +drive there. Quicker to drive in her own runabout, did she dare to try to +move him into it. She made up her mind. + +"Please follow on behind with that trap," she called out to Rangely; "I'm +going to Ripton." + +He nodded understandingly, admiringly, and Victoria started Hilary's +horse out of the bushes towards the entrance way. From time to time she +let her eyes rest upon him anxiously. + +"Are you comfortable?" she asked. + +"Yes," he said, "yes. I'm all right. I'll be able to drive in a minute." + +But the minutes passed, and he made no attempt to take the reins. +Victoria had drawn the whalebone whip from its socket, and was urging on +the horse as fast as humanity would permit; and the while she was aware +that Hilary's look was fixed upon her--in fact, never left her. Once or +twice, in spite of her anxiety to get him home, Victoria blushed faintly, +as she wondered what he was thinking about. + +And all the while she asked herself what it was that had brought him to +this condition. Victoria knew sufficient of life and had visited +hospitals enough to understand that mental causes were generally +responsible for such breakdowns--Hilary had had a shock. She remembered +how in her childhood he had been the object of her particular animosity; +how she used to put out her tongue at him, and imitate his manner, and +how he had never made the slightest attempt to conciliate her; most +people of this sort are sensitive to the instincts of children; but +Hilary had not been. She remembered--how long ago it seemed now!--the day +she had given him, in deviltry, the clipping about Austen shooting Mr. +Blodgett. + +The Hilary Vane who sat beside her to-day was not the same man. It was +unaccountable, but he was not. Nor could this changed estimate of him be +attributed to her regard for Austen, for she recalled a day only a few +months since--in June--when he had come up to Fairview and she was +standing on the lawn, and she had looked at him without recognition; she +had not, then, been able to bring herself to bow to him; to her childhood +distaste had been added the deeper resentment of Austen's wrongs. Her +early instincts about Hilary had been vindicated, for he had treated his +son abominably and driven Austen from his mother's home. To misunderstand +and maltreat Austen Vane, of all people Austen, whose consideration for +his father had been what it had! Could it be that Hilary felt remorse? +Could it be that he loved Austen in some peculiar manner all his own? + +Victoria knew now--so strangely--that the man beside her was capable of +love, and she had never felt that way about Hilary Vane. And her mind was +confused, and her heart was troubled and wrung. Insight flashed upon her +of the terrible loneliness of a life surrounded by outstretched, loving +arms to which one could not fly; scenes from a famous classic she had +read with a favourite teacher at school came to her, and she knew that +she was the witness of a retribution, of a suffering beyond conception of +a soul prepared for suffering,--not physical suffering, but of that +torture which is the meaning of hell. + +However, there was physical suffering. It came and went, and at such +moments she saw the traces of it in the tightening of his lips, and +longed with womanly intuition to alleviate it. She had not spoken +--although she could have cried aloud; she knew not what to say. And then +suddenly she reached out and touched his hand. Nor could she have +accounted for the action. + +"Are you in much pain?" she asked. + +She felt him tremble. + +"No," he said; "it's only a spell--I've had 'em before. I--I can drive in +a few minutes." + +"And do you think," she asked, "that I would allow you to go the rest of +the way alone?" + +"I guess I ought to thank you for comin' with me," he said. + +Victoria looked at him and smiled. And it was an illuminating smile for +her as well as for Hilary. Suddenly, by that strange power of sympathy +which the unselfish possess, she understood the man, understood Austen's +patience with him and affection for him. Suddenly she had pierced the +hard layers of the outer shell, and had heard the imprisoned spirit +crying with a small persistent voice,--a spirit stifled for many years +and starved--and yet it lived and struggled still. + +Yes, and that spirit itself must have felt her own reaching out to it +--who can, say? And how it must have striven again for utterance-- + +"It was good of you to come," he said. + +"It was only common humanity," she answered, touching the horse. + +"Common humanity," he repeated. "You'd have done it for anybody along the +road, would you?" + +At this remark, so characteristic of Hilary, Victoria, hesitated. She +understood it now. And yet she hesitated to give him an answer that was +hypocritical. + +"I have known you all my life, Mr. Vane, and you are a very old friend of +my father's." + +"Old," he repeated, "yes, that's it. I'm ready for the scrap-heap +--better have let me lie, Victoria." + +Victoria started. A new surmise had occurred to her upon which she did +not like to dwell. + +"You have worked too hard, Mr. Vane--you need a rest. And I have been +telling father that, too. You both need a rest." + +He shook his head. + +"I'll never get it," he said. "Stopping work won't give it to me." + +She pondered on these words as she guided the horse over a crossing. And +all that Austen had said to her, all that she had been thinking of for a +year past, helped her to grasp their meaning. But she wondered still more +at the communion which, all at once, had been established between Hilary +Vane and herself, and why he was saying these things to her. It was all +so unreal and inexplicable. + +"I can imagine that people who have worked hard all their lives must feel +that way," she answered, though her voice was not as steady as she could +have wished. "You--you have so much to live for." + +Her colour rose. She was thinking of Austen--and she knew that Hilary +Vane knew that she was thinking of Austen. Moreover, she had suddenly +grasped the fact that the gentle but persistently strong influence of the +son's character had brought about the change in the father. Hilary Vane's +lips closed again, as in pain, and she divined the reason. + +Victoria knew the house in Hanover Street, with its classic porch, with +its certain air of distinction and stability, and long before she had +known it as the Austen residence she remembered wondering who lived in +it. The house had individuality, and (looked at from the front) almost +perfect proportions; consciously--it bespoke the gentility of its +builders. Now she drew up before it and called to Mr. Rangely, who was +abreast, to tie his horse and ring the bell. Hilary was already feeling +with his foot for the step of the buggy. + +"I'm all right," he insisted; "I can manage now," but Victoria seized his +arm with a firm, detaining hand. + +"Please wait,--Mr. Vane," she pleaded. + +But the feeling of shame at his helplessness was strong. + +"It's over now. I--I can walk. I'm much obliged to you, Victoria--much +obliged." + +Fortunately Hilary's horse showed no inclination to go any farther--even +to the stable. And Victoria held on to his arm. He ceased to protest, and +Mr. Rangely quickly tied the other horse and came to Victoria's aid. +Supported by the young Englishman, Hilary climbed the stone steps and +reached the porch, declaring all the while that he needed no assistance, +and could walk alone. Victoria rang the bell, and after an interval the +door was opened by Euphrasia Cotton. + +Euphrasia stood upright with her hand on the knob, and her eyes flashed +over the group and rested fixedly on the daughter of Mr. Flint. + +"Mr. Vane was not very well," Victoria explained, "and we came home with +him." + +"I'm all right," said Hilary, once more, and to prove it he stepped--not +very steadily--across the threshold into the hall, and sat down on a +chair which had had its place at the foot of the stairs from time +immemorial. Euphrasia stood still. + +"I think," said Victoria, "that Mr. Vane had better see a doctor. Have +you a telephone?" + +"No, we haven't," said Euphrasia. + +Victoria turned to Mr. Rangely, who had been a deeply interested +spectator to this scene. + +"A little way down the street, on the other side, Dr. Tredway lives. You +will see his sign." + +"And if he isn't in, go to the hospital. It's only a few doors farther +on." + +"I'll wait," said Victoria, simply, when he had gone; "my father will +wish to know about Mr. Vane." + +"Hold on," said Hilary, "I haven't any use for a doctor--I won't see one. +I know what the trouble is, and I'm all right." + +Victoria became aware--for the first time that Hilary Vane's housekeeper +had not moved; that Euphrasia Cotton was still staring at her in a most +disconcerting manner, and was paying no attention whatever to Hilary. + +"Come in and set down," she said; and seeing Victoria glance at Hilary's +horse, she added, "Oh, he'll stand there till doomsday." + +Victoria, thinking that the situation would be less awkward, accepted the +invitation, and Euphrasia shut the door. The hall, owing to the fact that +the shutters of the windows by the stairs were always closed, was in +semidarkness. Victoria longed to let in the light, to take this strange, +dried-up housekeeper and shake her into some semblance of natural +feeling. And this was Austen's home! It was to this house, made gloomy by +these people, that he had returned every night! Infinitely depressed, she +felt that she must take some action, or cry aloud. + +"Mr. Vane," she said, laying a hand upon his shoulder, "I think you +ought, at least, to lie down for a little while. Isn't there a sofa in +--in the parlour?" she asked Euphrasia. + +"You can't get him to do anything," Euphrasia replied, with decision; +"he'll die some day for want of a little common sense. I shouldn't wonder +if he was took on soon." + +"Oh!" cried Victoria. She could think of no words to answer this remark. + +"It wouldn't surprise me," Euphrasia continued. "He fell down the stairs +here not long ago, and went right on about his business. He's never paid +any attention to anybody, and I guess it's a mite late to expect him to +begin now. Won't you set down?" + +There was another chair against the low wainscoting, and Victoria drew it +over beside Hilary and sat down in it. He did not seem to notice the +action, and Euphrasia continued to stand. Standing seemed to be the +natural posture of this remarkable woman, Victoria thought--a posture of +vigilance, of defiance. A clock of one of the Austen grandfathers stood +obscurely at the back of the hall, and the measured swing of its pendulum +was all that broke the silence. This was Austen's home. It seemed +impossible for her to realize that he could be the product of this +environment--until a portrait on the opposite wall, above the stairs, +came out of the gloom and caught her eye like the glow of light. At +first, becoming aware of it with a start, she thought it a likeness of +Austen himself. Then she saw that the hair was longer, and more wavy than +his, and fell down a little over the velvet collar of a coat with a wide +lapel and brass buttons, and that the original of this portrait had worn +a stock. The face had not quite the strength of Austen's, she thought, +but a wondrous sweetness and intellect shone from it, like an expression +she had seen on his face. The chin rested on the hand, an intellectual +hand,--and the portrait brought to her mind that of a young English +statesman she had seen in the National Gallery in London. + +"That's Channing Austen,--he was minister to Spain." + +Victoria started. It was Euphrasia who was speaking, and unmistakable +pride was in her voice. + +Fortunately for Victoria, who would not in the least have known what to +reply, steps were heard on the porch, and Euphrasia opened the door. Mr. +Rangely had returned. + +"Here's the doctor, Miss Flint," he said, "and I'll wait for you +outside." + +Victoria rose as young Dr. Tredway came forward. They were old friends, +and the doctor, it may be recalled, had been chiefly responsible for the +preservation of the life of Mr. Zebulun Meader. + +"I have sent for you, Doctor," she said, "against instructions and on my +own responsibility. Mr. Vane is ill, although he refuses to admit it." + +Dr. Tredway had a respect for Victoria and her opinions, and he knew +Hilary. He opened the door a little wider, and looked critically at Mr. +Vane. + +"It's nothing but a spell," Hilary insisted. "I've had 'em before. I +suppose it's natural that they should scare the women-folks some." + +"What kind of a spell was it, Mr. Vane?" asked the doctor. + +"It isn't worth talking about," said Hilary. "You might as well pick up +that case of yours and go home again. I'm going down to the square in a +little while." + +"You see," Euphrasia put in, "he's made up his mind to kill himself." + +"Perhaps," said the doctor, smiling a little, "Mr. Vane wouldn't object +to Miss Flint telling me what happened." + +Victoria glanced at the doctor and hesitated. Her sympathy for Hilary, +her new understanding of him, urged her on--and yet never in her life had +she been made to feel so distinctly an intruder. Here was the doctor, +with his case; here was this extraordinary housekeeper, apparently ready +to let Hilary walk to the square, if he wished, and to shut the door on +their backs; and here was Hilary himself, who threatened at any moment to +make his word good and depart from their midst. Only the fact that she +was convinced that Hilary was in real danger made her relate, in a few +brief words, what had occurred, and when she had finished Mr. Vane made +no comment whatever. + +Dr. Tredway turned to Hilary. + +"I am going to take a mean advantage of you, Mr. Vane," he said, "and sit +here awhile and talk to you. Would you object to waiting a little while, +Miss Flint? I have something to say to you," he added significantly, "and +this meeting will save me a trip to Fairview." + +"Certainly I'll wait," she said. + +"You can come along with me," said Euphrasia, "if you've a notion to." + +Victoria was of two minds whether to accept this invitation. She had an +intense desire to get outside, but this was counter-balanced by a sudden +curiosity to see more of this strange woman who loved but one person in +the world. Tom Gaylord had told Victoria that. She followed Euphrasia to +the back of the hall. + +"There's the parlour," said Euphrasia; "it's never be'n used since Mrs. +Vane died,--but there it is." + +"Oh," said Victoria, with a glance into the shadowy depths of the room, +"please don't open it for me. Can't we go," she added, with an +inspiration, "can't we go into--the kitchen?" She knew it was Euphrasia's +place. + +"Well," said Euphrasia, "I shouldn't have thought you'd care much about +kitchens." And she led the way onward; through the little passage, to the +room where she had spent most of her days. It was flooded with level, +yellow rays of light that seemed to be searching the corners in vain for +dust. Victoria paused in the doorway. + +"I'm afraid you do me an injustice," she said. "I like some kitchens." + +"You don't look as if you knew much about 'em," was Euphrasia's answer. +With Victoria once again in the light, Euphrasia scrutinized her with +appalling frankness, taking in every detail of her costume and at length +raising her eyes to the girl's face. Victoria coloured. On her visits +about the country-side she had met women of Euphrasia's type before, and +had long ago ceased to be dismayed by their manner. But her instinct +detected in Euphrasia a hostility for which she could not account. + +In that simple but exquisite gown which so subtly suited her, the +creation of which had aroused the artist in a celebrated Parisian +dressmaker, Victoria was, indeed, a strange visitant in that kitchen. She +took a seat by the window, and an involuntary exclamation of pleasure +escaped her as her eyes fell upon the little, old-fashioned flower garden +beneath it. The act and the exclamation for the moment disarmed +Euphrasia. + +"They were Sarah Austen's--Mrs. Vane's," she explained, "just as she +planted them the year she died. I've always kept 'em just so." + +"Mrs. Vane must have loved flowers," said Victoria. + +"Loved 'em! They were everything to her--and the wild flowers, too. She +used to wander off and spend whole days in the country, and come back +after sunset with her arms full." + +"It was nature she loved," said Victoria, in a low voice. + +"That was it--nature," said Euphrasia. "She loved all nature. There +wasn't a living, creeping thing that wasn't her friend. I've seen birds +eat out of her hand in that window where you're settin', and she'd say to +me, 'Phrasie, keep still! They'd love you, too, if they only knew you, +but they're afraid you'll scrub 'em if you get hold of them, the way you +used to scrub me.'" + +Victoria smiled--but it was a smile that had tears in it. Euphrasia +Cotton was standing in the shaft of sunlight at the other window, staring +at the little garden. + +"Yes, she used to say funny things like that, to make you laugh when you +were all ready to cry. There wasn't many folks understood her. She knew +every path and hilltop within miles of here, and every brook and spring, +and she used to talk about that mountain just as if it was alive." + +Victoria caught her breath. + +"Yes," continued Euphrasia, "the mountain was alive for her. 'He's angry +to-day, Phrasie. That's because, you lost your temper and scolded +Hilary.' It's a queer thing, but there have been hundreds of times since +when he needed scoldin' bad, and I've looked at the mountain and held my +tongue. It was just as if I saw her with that half-whimsical, +half-reproachful expression in her eyes, holding up her finger at me. And +there were other mornings when she'd say, 'The mountain's lonesome today, +he wants me.' And I vow, I'd look at the mountain and it would seem +lonesome. That sounds like nonsense, don't it?" Euphrasia demanded, with +a sudden sharpness. + +"No," said Victoria, "it seems very real to me." + +The simplicity, the very ring of truth, and above all the absolute lack +of self-consciousness in the girl's answer sustained the spell. + +"She'd go when the mountain called her, it didn't make any difference +whether it was raining--rain never appeared to do her any hurt. Nothin' +natural ever did her any hurt. When she was a little child flittin' about +like a wild creature, and she'd come in drenched to the skin, it was all +I could do to catch her and change her clothes. She'd laugh at me. 'We're +meant to be wet once in a while, Phrasie,' she'd say; 'that's what the +rain's for, to wet us. It washes some of the wickedness out of us.' It +was the unnatural things that hurt her--the unkind words and makin' her +act against her nature. 'Phrasie,' she said once, 'I can't pray in the +meeting-house with my eyes shut--I can't, I can't. I seem to know what +they're all wishing for when they pray,--for more riches, and more +comfort, and more security, and more importance. And God is such a long +way off. I can't feel Him, and the pew hurts my back.' She used to read +me some, out of a book of poetry, and one verse I got by heart--I guess +her prayers were like that." + +"Do you--remember the verse?" asked Victoria. + +Euphrasia went to a little shelf in the corner of the kitchen and +produced a book, which, she opened and handed to Victoria. + +"There's the verse!" she said; "read it aloud. I guess you're better at +that than I am." + +And Victoria read:-- + + "Higher still and higher + From the earth thou springest + Like a cloud of fire; + The blue deep thou wingest, + And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest." + +Victoria let fall the volume on her lap. + +"There's another verse in that book she liked," said Euphrasia, "but it +always was sad to me." + +Victoria took the book, and read again:-- + + "Weary wind, who wanderest + Like the world's rejected guest, + Hast thou still some secret nest + On the tree or billow?" + +Euphrasia laid the volume tenderly on the shelf, and turned and faced +Victoria. + +"She was unhappy like that before she died," she exclaimed, and added, +with a fling of her head towards the front of the house, "he killed her." + +"Oh, no!" cried Victoria, involuntarily rising to her feet. "Oh, no! I'm +sure he didn't mean to. He didn't understand her!" + +"He killed her," Euphrasia repeated. "Why didn't he understand her? She +was just as simple as a child, and just as trusting, and just as loving. +He made her unhappy, and now he's driven her son out of her house, and +made him unhappy. He's all of her I have left, and I won't see him +unhappy." + +Victoria summoned her courage. + +"Don't you think," she asked bravely, "that Mr. Austen Vane ought to be +told that his father is--in this condition?" + +"No," said Euphrasia, determinedly. "Hilary will have to send for him. +This time it'll be Austen's victory." + +"But hasn't he had--a victory?" Victoria persisted earnestly. "Isn't +this--victory enough?" + +"What do you mean?" Euphrasia cried sharply. + +"I mean," she answered, in a low voice, "I mean that Mr. Vane's son is +responsible for his condition to-day. Oh--not consciously so. But the +cause of this trouble is mental--can't you see it? The cause of this +trouble is remorse. Can't you see that it has eaten into his soul? Do you +wish a greater victory than this, or a sadder one? Hilary Vane will not +ask for his son--because he cannot. He has no more power to send that +message than a man shipwrecked on an island. He can only give signals of +distress--that some may heed. Would She have waited for such a victory as +you demand? And does Austen Vane desire it? Don't you think that he would +come to his father if he knew? And have you any right to keep the news +from him? Have you any right to decide what their vengeance shall be?" + +Euphrasia had stood mute as she listened to these words which she had so +little expected, but her eyes flashed and her breath came quickly. Never +had she been so spoken to! Never had any living soul come between her and +her cherished object the breaking of the heart of Hilary Vane! Nor, +indeed, had that object ever been so plainly set forth as Victoria had +set it forth. And this woman who dared to do this had herself brought +unhappiness to Austen. Euphrasia had almost forgotten that, such had been +the strange harmony of their communion. + +"Have you the right to tell Austen?" she demanded. + +"Have I?" Victoria repeated. And then, as the full meaning of the +question came to her; the colour flooded into her face, and she would +have fled, if she could, bud Euphrasia's words came in a torrent. + +"You've made him unhappy, as well as Hilary. He loves you--but he +wouldn't speak of it to you. Oh, no, he didn't tell me who it was, but I +never rested till I found out. He never would have told me about it at +all, or anybody else, but that I guessed it. I saw he was unhappy, and I +calculated it wasn't Hilary alone made him so. One night he came in here, +and I knew all at once--somehow--there was a woman to blame, and I asked +him, and he couldn't lie to me. He said it wasn't anybody's fault but his +own--he wouldn't say any more than that, except that he hadn't spoken to +her. I always expected the time was coming when there would be--a woman. +And I never thought the woman lived that he'd love who wouldn't love him. +I can't see how any woman could help lovin' him. + +"And then I found out it was that railroad. It came between Sarah Austen +and her happiness, and now it's come between Austen and his. Perhaps you +don't love him!" cried Euphrasia. "Perhaps you're too rich and high and +mighty. Perhaps you're a-going to marry that fine young man who came with +you in the buggy. Since I heard who you was, I haven't had a happy hour. +Let me tell you there's no better blood in the land than the Austen +blood. I won't mention the Vanes. If you've led him on, if you've +deceived him, I hope you may be unhappy as Sarah Austen was--" + +"Don't!" pleaded Victoria; "don't! Please don't!" and she seized +Euphrasia by the arms, as though seeking by physical force to stop the +intolerable flow of words. "Oh, you don't know me; you can't understand +me if you say that. How can you be so cruel?" + +In another moment she had gone, leaving Euphrasia standing in the middle +of the floor, staring after her through the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE FOCUS OF WRATH + +Victoria, after leaving Euphrasia, made her way around the house towards +Mr. Rangely, who was waiting in the runabout, her one desire for the +moment being to escape. Before she had reached the sidewalk under the +trees, Dr. Tredway had interrupted her. + +"Miss Flint," he called out, "I wanted to say a word to you before you +went." + +"Yes," she said, stopping and turning to him. + +He paused a moment before speaking, as he looked into her face. + +"I don't wonder this has upset you a little," he said; "a reaction always +comes afterwards--even with the strongest of us." + +"I am all right," she replied, unconsciously repeating Hilary's words. +"How is Mr. Vane?" + +"You have done a splendid thing," said the doctor, gravely. And he +continued, after a moment: "It is Mr. Vane I wanted to speak to you +about. He is an intimate friend, I believe, of your father's, as well as +Mr. Flint's right-hand man in--in a business way in this State. Mr. Vane +himself will not listen to reason. I have told him plainly that if he +does not drop all business at once, the chances are ten to one that he +will forfeit his life very shortly. I understand that there is a--a +convention to be held at the capital the day after to-morrow, and that it +is Mr. Vane's firm intention to attend it. I take the liberty of +suggesting that you lay these facts before your father, as Mr. Flint +probably has more influence with Hilary Vane than any other man. +However," he added, seeing Victoria hesitate, "if there is any reason +why you should not care to speak to Mr. Flint--" + +"Oh, no," said Victoria; "I'll speak to him, certainly. I was going to +ask you--have you thought of Mr. Austen Vane? He might be able to do +something." + +"Of course," said the doctor, after a moment, "it is an open secret that +Austen and his father have--have, in short, never agreed. They are not +now on speaking terms." + +"Don't you think," asked Victoria, summoning her courage, "that Austen +Vane ought to be told?" + +"Yes," the doctor repeated decidedly, "I am sure of it. Everybody who +knows Austen Vane as I do has the greatest admiration for him. You +probably remember him in that Meader case,--he isn't a man one would be +likely to forget,--and I know that this quarrel with his father isn't of +Austen's seeking." + +"Oughtn't he to be told--at once?" said Victoria. + +"Yes," said the doctor; "time is valuable, and we can't predict what +Hilary will do. At any rate, Austen ought to know--but the trouble is, +he's at Jenney's farm. I met him on the way out there just before your +friend the Englishman caught me. And unfortunately I have a case which I +cannot neglect. But I can send word to him." + +"I know where Jenney's farm is," said Victoria; "I'll drive home that +way." + +"Well," exclaimed Dr. Tredway, heartily, "that's good of you. Somebody +who knows Hilary's situation ought to see him, and I can think of no +better messenger than you." + +And he helped her into the runabout. + +Young Mr. Rangely being a gentleman, he refrained from asking Victoria +questions on the drive out of Ripton, and expressed the greatest +willingness to accompany her on this errand and to see her home +afterwards. He had been deeply impressed, but he felt instinctively that +after such a serious occurrence, this was not the time to continue to +give hints of his admiration. He had heard in England that many American +women whom he would be likely to meet socially were superficial and +pleasure-loving; and Arthur Rangely came of a family which had long been +cited as a vindication of a government by aristocracy,--a family which +had never shirked responsibilities. It is not too much to say that he had +pictured Victoria among his future tenantry; she had appealed to him +first as a woman, but the incident of the afternoon had revealed her to +him, as it were, under fire. + +They spoke quietly of places they both had visited, of people whom they +knew in common, until they came to the hills--the very threshold of +Paradise on that September evening. Those hills never failed to move +Victoria, and they were garnished this evening in no earthly colours, +--rose-lighted on the billowy western pasture slopes and pearl in the +deep clefts of the streams, and the lordly form of Sawanec shrouded in +indigo against a flame of orange. And orange fainted, by the subtlest of +colour changes, to azure in which swam, so confidently, a silver evening +star. + +In silence they drew up before Mr. Jenney's ancestral trees, and through +the deepening shadows beneath these the windows of the farm-house glowed +with welcoming light. At Victoria's bidding Mr. Rangely knocked to ask +for Austen Vane, and Austen himself answered the summons. He held a book +in his hand, and as Rangely spoke she saw Austen's look turn quickly to +her, and met it through the gathering gloom between them. In an instant +he was at her side, looking up questioningly into her face, and the +telltale blood leaped into hers. What must he think of her for coming +again? She could not speak of her errand too quickly. + +"Mr. Vane, I came to leave a message." + +"Yes?" he said, and glanced at the broad-shouldered, well-groomed figure +of Mr. Rangely, who was standing at a discreet distance. + +"Your father has had an attack of some kind,--please don't be alarmed, he +seems to be recovered now,--and I thought and Dr. Tredway thought you +ought to know about it. The doctor could not leave Ripton, and I offered +to come and tell you." + +"An attack?" he repeated. + +"Yes." Hilary and she related simply how she had found Hilary at +Fairview, and how she had driven him home. But, during the whole of her +recital, she could not rid herself of the apprehension that he was +thinking her interference unwarranted, her coming an indelicate +repetition of the other visit. As he stood there listening in the +gathering dusk, she could not tell from his face what he thought. His +expression, when serious, had a determined, combative, almost grim note +in it, which came from a habit he had of closing his jaw tightly; and his +eyes were like troubled skies through which there trembled an occasional +flash of light. + +Victoria had never felt his force so strongly as now, and never had he +seemed more distant; at times--she had thought--she had had glimpses of +his soul; to-night he was inscrutable, and never had she realized the +power (which she bad known he must possess) of making himself so. And to +her? Her pride forbade her recalling at that moment the confidences which +had passed between them and which now seemed to have been so impossible. +He was serious because he was listening to serious news--she told +herself. But it was more than this: he had shut himself up, he was +impenetrable. Shame seized her; yes, and anger; and shame again at the +remembrance of her talk with Euphrasia--and anger once more. Could he +think that she would make advances to tempt his honour, and risk his good +opinion and her own? + +Confidence is like a lute-string, giving forth sweet sounds in its +perfection; there are none so discordant as when it snaps. + +Victoria scarcely heard Austen's acknowledgments of her kindness, so +perfunctory did they seem, so unlike the man she had known; and her own +protestations that she had done nothing to merit his thanks were to her +quite as unreal. She introduced him to the Englishman. + +"Mr. Rangely has been good enough to come with me," she said. + +"I've never seen anybody act with more presence of mind than Miss Flint," +Rangely declared, as he shook Austen's hand. "She did just the right +thing, without wasting any time whatever." + +"I'm sure of it," said Austen, cordially enough. But to Victoria's keener +ear, other tones which she had heard at other times were lacking. Nor +could she, clever as she was, see the palpable reason standing before +her! + +"I say," said Rangely, as they drove away, "he strikes me as a remarkably +sound chap, Miss Flint. There is something unusual about him, something +clean cut." + +"I've heard other people say so," Victoria replied. For the first time +since she had known him, praise of Austen was painful to her. What was +this curious attraction that roused the interest of all who came in +contact with him? The doctor had it, Mr. Redbrook, Jabe Jenney,--even +Hamilton Tooting, she remembered. And he attracted women as well as men +--it must be so. Certainly her own interest in him--a man beyond the +radius of her sphere--and their encounters had been strange enough! And +must she go on all her life hearing praises of him? Of one thing she was +sure--who was not?--that Austen Vane had a future. He was the type of man +which is inevitably impelled into places of trust. + +Manly men, as a rule, do not understand women. They humour them blindly, +seek to comfort them--if they weep--with caresses, laugh with them if +they have leisure, and respect their curious and unaccountable moods by +keeping out of the way. Such a husband was Arthur Rangely destined to +make; a man who had seen any number of women and understood none,--as +wondrous mechanisms. He had merely acquired the faculty of appraisal, +although this does not mean that he was incapable of falling in love. + +Mr. Rangely could not account for the sudden access of gayety in +Victoria's manner as they drove to Fairview through the darkness, nor did +he try. He took what the gods sent him, and was thankful. When he reached +Fairview he was asked to dinner, as he could not possibly get back to the +Inn in time. Mr. Flint had gone to Sumner with the engineers, leaving +orders to be met at the East Tunbridge station at ten; and Mrs. Flint, +still convalescent, had dined in her sitting room. Victoria sat opposite +her guest in the big dining room, and Mr. Rangely pronounced the occasion +decidedly jolly. He had, he proclaimed, with the exception of Mr. Vane's +deplorable accident, never spent a better day in his life. + +Victoria wondered at her own spirits, which were feverish, as she +listened to transatlantic gossip about girls she had known who had +married Mr. Rangely's friends, and stories of Westminster and South +Africa, and certain experiences of Mr. Rangely's at other places than +Leith on the American continent, which he had grown sufficiently +confidential to relate. At times, lifting her eyes to him as he sat +smoking after dinner on the other side of the library fire, she almost +doubted his existence. He had come into her life at one o'clock that +day--it seemed an eternity since. And a subconscious voice, heard but not +heeded, told her that in the awakening from this curious dream he would +be associated in her memory with tragedy, just as a tune or a book or a +game of cards reminds one of painful periods of one's existence. +To-morrow the--episode would be a nightmare; to-night her one desire was +to prolong it. + +And poor Mr. Rangely little imagined the part he was playing--as little +as he deserved it. Reluctant to leave, propriety impelled him to ask for +a trap at ten, and it was half past before he finally made his exit from +the room with a promise to pay his respects soon--very soon. + +Victoria stood before the fire listening to the sound of the wheels +gradually growing fainter, and her mind refused to work. Hanover Street, +Mr. Jenney's farm-house, were unrealities too. Ten minutes later--if she +had marked the interval--came the sound of wheels again, this time +growing louder. Then she heard a voice in the hall, her father's voice. + +"Towers, who was that?" + +"A young gentleman, sir, who drove home with Miss Victoria. I didn't get +his name, sir." + +"Has Miss Victoria retired?" + +"She's in the library, sir. Here are some telegrams, Mr. Flint." + +Victoria heard her father tearing open the telegrams and walking towards +the library with slow steps as he read them. She did not stir from her +place before the fire. She saw him enter and, with a characteristic +movement which had become almost habitual of late, crush the telegrams in +front of him with both hands. + +"Well, Victoria?" he said. + +"Well, father?" + +It was characteristic of him, too, that he should momentarily drop the +conversation, unravel the ball of telegrams, read one, crush them once +more,--a process that seemed to give him relief. He glanced at his +daughter--she had not moved. Whatever Mr. Flint's original character may +have been in his long-forgotten youth on the wind-swept hill farm in +Truro, his methods of attack lacked directness now; perhaps a long +business and political experience were responsible for this trait. + +"Your mother didn't come down to dinner, I suppose." + +"No," said Victoria. + +Simpson tells me the young bull got loose and cut himself badly. He says +it's the fault of the Eben Fitch you got me to hire." + +"I don't believe it was Eben's fault--Simpson doesn't like him," Victoria +replied. + +"Simpson tells me Fitch drinks." + +"Let a man get a bad name," said Victoria, "and Simpson will take care +that he doesn't lose it." The unexpected necessity of defending one of +her proteges aroused her. "I've made it a point to see Eben every day for +the last three months, and he hasn't touched a drop. He's one of the best +workers we have on the place." + +"I've got too much on my mind to put up with that kind of thing," said +Mr. Flint, "and I won't be worried here on the place. I can get capable +men to tend cattle, at least. I have to put up with political rascals who +rob and deceive me as soon as my back is turned, I have to put up with +inefficiency and senility, but I won't have it at home." + +"Fitch will be transferred to the gardener if you think best," she said. + +It suddenly occurred to Victoria, in the light of a new discovery, that +in the past her father's irritability had not extended to her. And this +discovery, she knew, ought to have some significance, but she felt +unaccountably indifferent to it. Mr. Flint walked to a window at the far +end of the room and flung apart the tightly closed curtains before it. + +"I never can get used to this new-fangled way of shutting everything up +tight," he declared. "When I lived in Centre Street, I used to read with +the curtains up every night, and nobody ever shot me." He stood looking +out at the starlight for awhile, and turned and faced her again. + +"I haven't seen much of you this summer, Victoria," he remarked. + +"I'm sorry, father. You know I always like to walk with you every day you +are here." He had aroused her sufficiently to have a distinct sense that +this was not the time to refer to the warning she had given him that he +was working too hard. But he was evidently bent on putting this +construction on her answer. + +"Several times I have asked for you, and you have been away," he said. + +"If you had only let me know, I should have made it a point to be at +home." + +"How can I tell when these idiots will give me any rest?" he asked. He +crushed the telegrams again, and came down the room and stopped in front +of her. "Perhaps there has been a particular reason why you have not been +at home as much as usual." + +"A particular reason?" she repeated, in genuine surprise. + +"Yes," he said; "I have been hearing things which, to put it mildly, have +astonished me." + +"Hearing things?" + +"Yes," he exclaimed. "I may be busy, I may be harassed by tricksters and +bunglers, but I am not too busy not to care something about my daughter's +doings. I expect them to deceive me, Victoria, but I pinned my faith +somewhere. I pinned it on you. On you, do you understand?" + +She raised her head for the first time and looked at him, with her lips +quivering. But she did not speak. + +"Ever since you were a child you have been everything to me, all I had to +fly to. I was always sure of one genuine, disinterested love--and that +was yours. I was always sure of hearing the truth from your lips." + +"Father!" she cried. + +He seemed not to hear the agonized appeal in her voice. Although he spoke +in his usual tones, Augustus Flint was, in fact, beside himself. + +"And now," he said, "and now I learn that you have been holding +clandestine meetings with a man who is my enemy, with a man who has done +me more harm than any other single individual, with a man whom I will not +have in my house--do you understand? I can only say that before to-night, +I gave him credit for having the decency not to enter it, not to sit down +at my table." + +Victoria turned away from him, and seized the high oak shelf of the +mantel with both hands. He saw her shoulders rising and falling as her +breath came deeply, spasmodically--like sobbing. But she was not sobbing +as she turned again and looked into his face. Fear was in her eye, and +the high courage to look: fear and courage. She seemed to be looking at +another man, at a man who was not her father. And Mr. Flint, despite his +anger, vaguely interpreting her meaning, was taken aback. He had never +seen anybody with such a look. And the unexpected quiet quality of her +voice intensified his strange sensation. + +"A Mr. Rangely, an Englishman, who is staying at the Leith Inn, was here +to dinner to-night. He has never been here before." + +"Austen Vane wasn't here to-night?" + +"Mr. Vane has never been in this house to my knowledge but once, and you +knew more about that meeting than I do." + +And still Victoria spoke quietly, inexplicably so to Mr. Flint--and to +herself. It seemed to her that some other than she were answering with +her voice, and that she alone felt. It was all a part of the nightmare, +all unreal, and this was not her father; nevertheless, she suffered now, +not from anger alone, nor sorrow, nor shame for him and for herself, nor +disgust, nor a sense of injustice, nor cruelty--but all of these played +upon a heart responsive to each with a different pain. + +And Mr. Flint, halted for the moment by her look and manner, yet goaded +on by a fiend of provocation which had for months been gathering +strength, and which now mastered him completely, persisted. He knew not +what he did or said. + +"And you haven't seen him to-day, I suppose," he cried. + +"Yes, I have seen him to-day." + +"Ah, you have! I thought as much. Where did you meet him to-day?" + +Victoria turned half away from him, raised a hand to the mantel-shelf +again, and lifted a foot to the low brass fender as she looked down into +the fire. The movement was not part of a desire to evade him, as he +fancied in his anger, but rather one of profound indifference, of +profound weariness--the sunless deeps of sorrow. And he thought her +capable of deceiving him! He had been her constant companion from +childhood, and knew only the visible semblance of her face, her form, her +smile. Her sex was the sex of subterfuge. + +"I went to the place where he is living, and asked for him," she said, +"and he came out and spoke to me." + +"You?" he repeated incredulously. There was surely no subterfuge in her +tone, but an unreal, unbelievable note which his senses seized, and to +which he clung. "You! My daughter!" + +"Yes," she answered, "I, your daughter. I suppose you think I am +shameless. It is true--I am." + +Mr. Flint was utterly baffled. He was at sea. He had got beyond the range +of his experience; defence, denial, tears, he could have understood and +coped with. He crushed the telegrams into a tighter ball, sought for a +footing, and found a precarious one. + +"And all this has been going on without my knowledge, when you knew my +sentiments towards the man?" + +"Yes," she said. "I do not know what you include in that remark, but I +have seen him many times as many times, perhaps, as you have heard +about." + +He wheeled, and walked over to a cabinet between two of the great windows +and stood there examining a collection of fans which his wife had bought +at a famous sale in Paris. Had he suddenly been asked the question, he +could not have said whether they were fans or beetles. And it occurred to +Victoria, as her eyes rested on his back, that she ought to be sorry for +him--but wasn't, somehow. Perhaps she would be to-morrow. Mr. Flint +looked at the fans, and an obscure glimmering of the truth came to him +that instead of administering a severe rebuke to the daughter he believed +he had known all his life, he was engaged in a contest with the soul of a +woman he had never known. And the more she confessed, the more she +apparently yielded, the more impotent he seemed, the tighter the demon +gripped him. Obstacles, embarrassments, disappointments, he had met early +in his life, and he had taken them as they came. There had followed a +long period when his word had been law. And now, as age came on, and he +was meeting with obstacles again, he had lost the magic gift of sweeping +them aside; the growing certainty that he was becoming powerless haunted +him night and day. Unbelievably strange, however, it was that the rays of +his anger by some subconscious process had hovered from the first about +the son of Hilary Vane, and were now, by the trend of event after event, +firmly focussed there. + +He left the cabinet abruptly and came back to Victoria. + +She was standing in the same position. + +"You have spared me something," he said. "He has apparently undermined me +with my own daughter. He has evidently given you an opinion of me which +is his. I think I can understand why you have not spoken of these +--meetings." + +"It is an inference that I expected," said Victoria. Then she lifted her +head and looked at him, and again he could not read her expression, for a +light burned in her eyes that made them impenetrable to him,--a light +that seemed pitilessly to search out and reveal the dark places and the +weak places within him which he himself had not known were there. Could +there be another standard by which men and women were measured and +judged? + +Mr. Flint snapped his fingers, and turned and began to pace the room. + +"It's all pretty clear," he said; "there's no use going into it any +farther. You believe, with the rest of them, that I'm a criminal and +deserve the penitentiary. I don't care a straw about the others," he +cried, snapping his fingers again. "And I suppose, if I'd had any sense, +I might have expected it from you, too, Victoria--though you are my +daughter." + +He was aware that her eyes followed him. + +"How many times have you spoken with Austen Vane?" she asked. + +"Once," he exclaimed; "that was enough. Once." + +"And he gave you the impression," she continued slowly, "that he was +deceitful, and dishonourable, and a coward? a man who would say things +behind your back that he dared not say to your face? who desired reward +for himself at any price, and in any manner? a man who would enter your +house and seek out your daughter and secretly assail your character?" + +Mr. Flint stopped in the middle of the floor. + +"And you tell me he has not done these things?" + +"Suppose I did tell you so," said Victoria, "would you believe me? I have +no reason to think that you would. I am your daughter, I have been your +most intimate companion, and I had the right to think that you should +have formed some estimate of my character. Suppose I told you that Austen +Vane has avoided me, that he would not utter a word against you or in +favour of himself? Suppose I told you that I, your daughter, thought +there might be two sides to the political question that is agitating you, +and wished in fairness to hear the other side, as I intended to tell you +when you were less busy? Suppose I told you that Austen Vane was the soul +of honour, that he saw your side and presented it as ably as you have +presented it? that he had refrained in many matters which might have been +of advantage to him--although I did not hear of them from him--on account +of his father? Would you believe me?" + +"And suppose I told you," cried Mr. Flint--so firmly fastened on him was +the long habit of years of talking another down, "suppose I told you that +this was the most astute and the craftiest course he could take? I've +always credited him with brains. Suppose I told you that he was +intriguing now, as he has been all along, to obtain the nomination for +the governorship? Would you believe me?" + +"No," answered Victoria, quietly. + +Mr. Flint went to the lamp, unrolled the ball of telegrams, seized one +and crossed the room quickly, and held it out to her. His hand shook a +little. + +"Read that!" he said. + +She read it: "Estimate that more than half of delegates from this section +pledged to Henderson will go to Austen Vane when signal is given in +convention. Am told on credible authority same is true of other sections, +including many of Hunt's men and Crewe's. This is the result of quiet but +persistent political work I spoke about. BILLINGS." + +She handed the telegram back to her father in silence. "Do you believe it +now?" he demanded exultantly. + +"Who is the man whose name is signed to that message?" she asked. + +Mr. Flint eyed her narrowly. + +"What difference does that make?" he demanded. + +"None," said Victoria. But a vision of Mr. Billings rose before her. He +had been pointed out to her as the man who had opposed Austen in the +Meader suit. "If the bishop of the diocese signed it, I would not believe +that Austen Vane had anything to do with the matter." + +"Ah, you defend him!" cried Mr. Flint. "I thought so--I thought so. I +take off my hat to him, he is a cleverer man even than I. His own father, +whom he has ruined, comes up here and defends him." + +"Does Hilary Vane defend him?" Victoria asked curiously. + +"Yes," said Mr. Flint, beside himself; "incredible as it may seem, he +does. I have Austen Vane to thank for still another favour--he is +responsible for Hilary's condition to-day. He has broken him down--he has +made him an imbecile. The convention is scarcely thirty-six hours off, +and Hilary is about as fit to handle it as--as Eben Fitch. Hilary, who +never failed me in his life!" + +Victoria did not speak for a moment, and then she reached out her hand +quickly and laid it on his that still held the telegram. A lounge stood +on one side of the fireplace, and she drew him gently to it, and he sat +down at her side. His acquiescence to her was a second nature, and he was +once more bewildered. His anger now seemed to have had no effect upon her +whatever. + +"I waited up to tell you about Hilary Vane, father," she said gently. "He +has had a stroke, which I am afraid is serious." + +"A stroke!" cried Mr. Flint, "Why didn't you tell me? How do you know?" + +Victoria related how she had found Hilary coming away from Fairview, and +what she had done, and the word Dr. Tredway had sent. + +"Good God!" cried Mr. Flint, "he won't be able to go to the convention!" +And he rose and pressed the electric button. "Towers," he said, when the +butler appeared, "is Mr. Freeman still in my room? Tell him to telephone +to Ripton at once and find out how Mr. Hilary Vane is. They'll have to +send a messenger. That accounts for it," he went on, rather to himself +than to Victoria, and he began to pace the room once more; "he looked +like a sick man when he was here. And who have we got to put in his +place? Not a soul!" + +He paced awhile in silence. He appeared to have forgotten Victoria. + +"Poor Hilary!" he said again, "poor Hilary! I'll go down there the first +thing in the morning." + +Another silence, and then Mr. Freeman, the secretary, entered. + +"I telephoned to Dr. Tredway's, Mr. Flint. I thought that would be +quickest. Mr. Vane has left home. They don't know where he's gone." + +"Left home! It's impossible!" and he glanced at Victoria, who had risen +to her feet. "There must be some mistake." + +"No, sir. First I got the doctor, who said that Mr. Vane was gone--at the +risk of his life. And then I talked to Mr. Austen Vane himself, who was +there consulting with the doctor. It appears that Mr. Hilary Vane had +left home by eight o'clock, when Mr. Austen Vane got there." + +"Hilary's gone out of his head," exclaimed Mr. Flint. "This thing has +unhinged him. Here, take these telegrams. No, wait a minute, I'll go out +there. Call up Billings, and see if you can get Senator Whitredge." + +He started out of the room, halted, and turned his head and hesitated. + +"Father," said Victoria, "I don't think Hilary Vane is out of his mind." + +"You don't?" he said quickly. "Why?" + +By some unaccountable change in the atmosphere, of which Mr. Flint was +unconscious, his normal relation to his daughter had been suddenly +reestablished. He was giving ear, as usual, to her judgment. + +"Did Hilary Vane tell you he would go to the convention?" she asked. + +"Yes." In spite of himself, he had given the word an apologetic +inflection. + +"Then he has gone already," she said. "I think, if you will telephone a +little later to the State capital, you will find that he is in his room +at the Pelican Hotel." + +"By thunder, Victoria!" he ejaculated, "you may be right. It would be +like him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE ARENA AND THE DUST + +Alas! that the great genius who described the battle of Waterloo is not +alive to-day and on this side of the Atlantic, for a subject worthy of +his pen is at hand,--nothing less than that convention of conventions at +which the Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith is one of the candidates. +One of the candidates, indeed! Will it not be known, as long as there are +pensions, and a governor and a state-house and a seal and State +sovereignty and a staff, as the Crewe Convention? How charge after charge +was made during the long, hot day and into the night; how the delegates +were carried out limp and speechless and starved and wet through, and +carried in to vote again,--will all be told in time. But let us begin at +the beginning, which is the day before. + +But look! it is afternoon, and the candidates are arriving at the +Pelican. The Honourable Adam B. Hunt is the first, and walks up the hill +from the station escorted by such prominent figures as the Honourables +Brush Bascom and Jacob Botcher, and surrounded by enthusiastic supporters +who wear buttons with the image of their leader--goatee and all--and the +singularly prophetic superscription, 'To the Last Ditch!' Only veterans +and experts like Mr. Bascom and Mr. Botcher can recognize the last ditch +when they see it. + +Another stir in the street--occasioned by the appearance of the +Honourable Giles Henderson,--of the blameless life. Utter a syllable +against him if you can! These words should be inscribed on his buttons if +he had any--but he has none. They seem to be, unuttered, on the tongues +of the gentlemen who escort the Honourable Giles, United States Senator +Greene and the Honourable Elisha Jane, who has obtained leave of absence +from his consular post to attend the convention,--and incidentally to +help prepare for it. + +But who and what is this? The warlike blast of a siren horn is heard, the +crowd in the lobby rushes to the doors, people up-stairs fly to the +windows, and the Honourable Adam B. Hunt leans out and nearly falls out, +but is rescued by Division Superintendent Manning of the Northeastern +Railroads, who has stepped in from Number Seven to give a little private +tug of a persuasive nature to the Honourable Adam's coat-tails. A red +Leviathan comes screaming down Main Street with a white trail of dust +behind it, smothering the occupants of vehicles which have barely +succeeded in getting out of the way, and makes a spectacular finish +before the Pelican by sliding the last fifty feet on locked rear wheels. + +A group in the street raises a cheer. It is the People's Champion! Dust +coat, gauntlets, goggles, cannot hide him; and if they did, some one +would recognize that voice, familiar now and endeared to many, and so +suited to command:--"Get that baggage off, and don't waste any time! +Jump out, Watling--that handle turns the other way. Well, Tooting, are +the headquarters ready? What was the matter that I couldn't get you on +the telephone?" (To the crowd.) "Don't push in and scratch the paint. +He's going to back out in a minute, and somebody'll get hurt." + +Mr. Hamilton Tooting (Colonel Hamilton Tooting that is to be--it being an +open secret that he is destined for the staff) is standing hatless on the +sidewalk ready to receive the great man. The crowd in the rotunda makes a +lane, and Mr. Crewe, glancing neither to the right nor left, walks +upstairs; and scarce is he installed in the bridal suite, surrounded by +his faithful workers for reform, than that amazing reception begins. Mr. +Hamilton Tooting, looking the very soul of hospitality, stands by the +doorway with an open box of cigars in his left hand, pressing them upon +the visitors with his right. Reform, contrary to the preconceived opinion +of many, is not made of icicles, nor answers with a stone a request for +bread. As the hours run on, the visitors grow more and more numerous, and +after supper the room is packed to suffocation, and a long line is +waiting in the corridor, marshalled and kept in good humour by able +lieutenants; while Mr. Crewe is dimly to be perceived through clouds of +incense burning in his honour--and incidentally at his expense--with a +welcoming smile and an appropriate word for each caller, whose waistcoat +pockets, when they emerge, resemble cartridge-belts of cigars. + +More cigars were hastily sent for, and more. There are to be but a +thousand delegates to the convention, and at least two thousand men have +already passed through the room--and those who don't smoke have friends. +It is well that Mr. Crewe has stuck to his conservative habit of not +squeezing hands too hard. + +"Isn't that Mr. Putter, who keeps a livery-stable here?" inquired Mr. +Crewe, about nine o'clock--our candidate having a piercing eye of his +own. Mr. Putter's coat, being brushed back, has revealed six cigars. + +"Why, yes--yes," says Mr. Watling. + +"Is he a delegate?" Mr. Crewe demanded. + +"Why, I guess he must be," says Mr. Watling. + +But Mr. Putter is not a delegate. + +"You've stood up and made a grand fight, Mr. Crewe," says another +gentleman, a little later, with a bland, smooth shaven face and strong +teeth to clinch Mr. Crewe's cigars. "I wish I was fixed so as I could +vote for you." + +Mr. Crewe looks at him narrowly. + +"You look very much like a travelling man from New York, who tried to +sell me farm machinery," he answers. + +"Where are you from?" + +"You ain't exactly what they call a tyro, are you?" says the bland-faced +man; "but I guess you've missed the mark this shot. Well, so long." + +"Hold on!" says Mr. Crewe, "Watling will talk to you." + +And, as the gentleman follows Mr. Wailing through the press, a pamphlet +drops from his pocket to the floor. It is marked 'Catalogue of the Raines +Farm Implement Company.' Mr. Watling picks it up and hands it to the +gentleman, who winks again. + +"Tim," he says, "where can we sit down? How much are you getting out of +this? Brush and Jake Botcher are bidding high down-stairs, and the +quotation on delegates has gone up ten points in ten minutes. It's mighty +good of you to remember old friends, Tim, even if they're not delegates." + +Meanwhile Mr. Crewe is graciously receiving others who are crowding to +him. + +"How are you, Mr. Giddings? How are the cows? I carry some stock that'll +make you sit up--I believe I told you when I was down your way. Of +course, mine cost a little money, but that's one of my hobbies. Come and +see 'em some day. There's a good hotel in Ripton, and I'll have you met +there and drive you back." + +Thus, with a genial and kindly remark to each, he passes from one to the +other, and when the members of the press come to him for his estimate of +the outcome on the morrow, he treats them with the same courtly +consideration. + +"Estimate!" cries Mr. Crewe. "Where have your eyes been to-night, my +friends? Have you seen the people coming into these headquarters? Have +you seen 'em pouring into any other headquarters? All the State and +federal office-holders in the country couldn't stop me now. Estimate! +I'll be nominated on the first ballot." + +They wrote it down. + +"Thank you, Mr. Crewe," they said; "that's the kind of talk we like to +hear." + +"And don't forget," said Mr. Crewe, "to mention this reception in the +accounts." + +Mr. Tooting, who makes it a point from time to time to reconnoitre, +saunters halfway down-stairs and surveys the crowded rotunda from the +landing. Through the blue medium produced by the burning of many cigars +(mostly Mr. Crewe's) he takes note of the burly form of Mr. Thomas +Gaylord beside that of Mr. Redbrook and other rural figures; he takes +note of a quiet corner with a ring of chairs surrounded by scouts and +outposts, although it requires a trained eye such as Mr. Tooting's to +recognize them as such--for they wear no uniforms. They are, in truth, +minor captains of the feudal system, and their present duties consist (as +Mr. Tooting sees clearly) in preventing the innocent and inquisitive from +unprofitable speech with the Honourable Jacob Botcher, who sits in the +inner angle conversing cordially with those who are singled out for this +honour. Still other scouts conduct some of the gentlemen who have talked +with Mr. Botcher up the stairs to a mysterious room on the second floor. +Mr. Tooting discovers that the room is occupied by the Honourable Brush +Bascom; Mr. Tooting learns with indignation that certain of these guests +of Mr. Bascom's are delegates pledged to Mr. Crewe, whereupon he rushes +back to the bridal suite to report to his chief. The cigars are giving +out again, and the rush has slackened, and he detaches the People's +Champion from the line and draws him to the inner room. + +"Brush Bascom's conducting a bourse on the second floor and is running the +price up right along," cried the honest and indignant Mr. Tooting. He's +stringin' Adam Hunt all right. They say he's got Adam to cough up six +thousand extra since five o'clock, but the question is--ain't he +stringin' us? He paid six hundred for a block of ten not quarter of an +hour ago--and nine of 'em were our delegates." + +It must be remembered that these are Mr. Tooting's words, and Mr. Crewe +evidently treated them as the product of that gentleman's vivid +imagination. Translated, they meant that the Honourable Adam B. Hunt has +no chance for the nomination, but that the crafty Messrs. Botcher and +Bascom are inducing him to think that he has--by making a supreme effort. +The supreme effort is represented by six thousand dollars. + +"Are you going to lie down under that?" Mr. Tooting demanded, forgetting +himself in his zeal for reform and Mr. Crewe. But Mr. Tooting, in some +alarm, perceived the eye of his chief growing virtuous and glassy. + +"I guess I know when I'm strung, as you call it, Mr. Tooting," he replied +severely. "This cigar bill alone is enough to support a large family for +several months." + +And with this merited reproof he turned on his heel and went back to his +admirers without, leaving Mr. Tooting aghast, but still resourceful. Ten +minutes later that gentleman was engaged in a private conversation with +his colleague, the Honourable Timothy Wading. + +"He's up on his hind legs at last," said Mr. Tooting; "it looks as if he +was catching on." + +Mr. Wading evidently grasped these mysterious words, for he looked grave. + +"He thinks he's got the nomination cinched, don't he?" + +"That's the worst of it," cried Mr. Tooting. + +"I'll see what I can do," said the Honourable Tim. "He's always talking +about thorough, let him do it thorough." And Mr. Watling winked. + +"Thorough," repeated Mr. Tooting, delightedly. + +"That's it--Colonel," said Mr. Watling. "Have you ordered your uniform +yet, Ham?" + +Mr. Tooting plainly appreciated this joke, for he grinned. + +"I guess you won't starve if you don't get that commissionership, Tim," +he retorted. + +"And I guess," returned Mr. Watling, "that you won't go naked if you +don't have a uniform." + +Victoria's surmise was true. At ten o'clock at night, two days before the +convention, a tall figure had appeared in the empty rotunda of the +Pelican, startling the clerk out of a doze. He rubbed his eyes and +stared, recognized Hilary Vane, and yet failed to recognize him. It was +an extraordinary occasion indeed which would cause Mr. McAvoy to lose his +aplomb; to neglect to seize the pen and dip it, with a flourish, into the +ink, and extend its handle towards the important guest; to omit a few +fitting words of welcome. It was Hilary who got the pen first, and wrote +his name in silence, and by this time Mr. McAvoy had recovered his +presence of mind sufficiently to wield the blotter. + +"We didn't expect you to-night, Mr. Vane," he said, in a voice that +sounded strange to him, "but we've kept Number Seven, as usual. Front!" + +"The old man's seen his day, I guess," Mr. McAvoy remarked, as he studied +the register with a lone reporter. "This Crewe must have got in on 'em +hard, from what they tell me, and Adam Hunt has his dander up." + +The next morning at ten o'clock, while the workmen were still tacking +down the fireproof carpets in headquarters upstairs, and before even the +advance guard of the armies had begun to arrive, the eye of the clerk was +caught by a tall young man rapidly approaching the desk. + +"Is Mr. Hilary Vane here?" + +"He's in Number Seven," said Mr. McAvoy, who was cudgelling his brains. +"Give me your card, and I'll send it up." + +"I'll go up," said the caller, turning on his heel and suiting the action +to the word, leaving Mr. McAvoy to make active but futile inquiries among +the few travelling men and reporters seated about. + +"Well, if you fellers don't know him, I give up," said the clerk, +irritably, "but he looks as if he ought to be somebody. He knows his +business, anyway." + +In the meantime Mr. Vane's caller had reached the first floor; he +hesitated just a moment before knocking at the door of Number Seven, and +the Honourable Hilary's voice responded. The door opened. + +Hilary was seated, as usual, beside the marble-topped table, which was +covered with newspapers and memoranda. In the room were Mr. Ridout, the +capital lawyer, and Mr. Manning, the division superintendent. There was +an instant of surprised silence on the part of the three, but the +Honourable Hilary was the only one who remained expressionless. + +"If you don't mind, gentlemen," said the visitor, "I should like to talk +to my father for a few minutes." + +"Why, certainly, Austen," Mr. Ridout replied, with an attempt at +heartiness. Further words seemed to fail him, and he left the room +somewhat awkwardly, followed by Mr. Manning; but the Honourable Hilary +appeared to take no notice of this proceeding. + +"Judge," said Austen, when the door had closed behind them, "I won't keep +you long. I didn't come down here to plead with you to abandon what you +believe to be your duty, because I know that would be useless. I have had +a talk with Dr. Tredway," he added gently, "and I realize that you are +risking your life. If I could take you back to Ripton I would, but I know +that I cannot. I see your point of view, and if I were in your place I +should do the same thing. I only wanted to tell you this--" Austen's +voice caught a little, "if--anything should happen, I shall be at Mrs. +Peasley's on Maple Street, opposite the Duncan house." He laid his hand +for an instant, in the old familiar way, on Hilary's shoulder, and looked +down into the older man's face. It may have been that Hilary's lips +trembled a little. "I--I'll see you later, Judge, when it's all over. +Good luck to you." + +He turned slowly, went to the door and opened it, gave one glance at the +motionless figure in the chair, and went out. He did not hear the voice +that called his name, for the door had shut. + +Mr. Ridout and Mr. Manning were talking together in low tones at the head +of the stairs. It was the lawyer who accosted Austen. + +"The old gentleman don't seem to be quite himself, Austen. Don't seem +well. You ought to hold him in he can't work as hard as he used to." + +"I think you'll find, Mr. Ridout," answered Austen, deliberately, "that +he'll perform what's required of him with his usual efficiency." + +Mr. Ridout followed Austen's figure with his eyes until he was hidden by +a turn of the stairs. Then he whistled. + +"I can't make that fellow out," he exclaimed. "Never could. All I know is +that if Hilary Vane pulls us through this mess, in the shape he's in, +it'll be a miracle. + +"His mind seems sound enough to-day--but he's lost his grip, I tell you. +I don't wonder Flint's beside himself. Here's Adam Hunt with both feet in +the trough, and no more chance of the nomination than I have, and Bascom +and Botcher teasing him on, and he's got enough votes with Crewe to lock +up that convention for a dark horse. And who's the dark horse?" + +Mr. Manning, who was a silent man, pointed with his thumb in the +direction Austen had taken. + +"Hilary Vane's own son," said Mr. Ridout, voicing the gesture; "they tell +me that Tom Gaylord's done some pretty slick work. Now I leave it to you, +Manning, if that isn't a mess!" + +At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the appearance on the +stairway of the impressive form of United States Senator Whitredge, +followed by a hall boy carrying the senatorial gripsack. The senator's +face wore a look of concern which could not possibly be misinterpreted. + +"How's Hilary?" were his first words. + +Mr. Ridout and Mr. Manning glanced at each other. + +"He's in Number Seven; you'd better take a look at him, Senator." + +The senator drew breath, directed that his grip be put in the room where +he was to repose that night, produced an amber cigar-holder from a case, +and a cigar from his waistcoat pocket. + +"I thought I'd better come down early," he said, "things aren't going +just as they should, and that's the truth. In fact," he added, +significantly tapping his pocket, "I've got a letter from Mr. Flint to +Hilary which I may have to use. You understand me." + +"I guessed as much," said Mr. Ridout. + +"Ahem! I saw young Vane going out of the hotel just now," the senator +remarked. "I am told, on pretty good authority, that under certain +circumstances, which I must confess seem not unlikely at present, he may +be a candidate for the nomination. The fact that he is in town tends to +make the circumstance more probable." + +"He's just been in to see Hilary," said Mr. Ridout. + +"You don't tell me!" said the senator, pausing as he lighted his cigar; +"I was under the impression that they were not on speaking terms." + +"They've evidently got together now, that--" said Mr. Ridout. "I wonder +how old Hilary would feel about it. We couldn't do much with Austen Vane +if he was governor--that's a sure thing." + +The senator pondered a moment. + +"It's been badly managed," he muttered; "there's no doubt of that. Hunt +must be got out of the way. When Bascom and Botcher come, tell them I +want to see them in my room, not in Number Seven." + +And with this impressive command, received with nods of understanding, +Senator Whitredge advanced slowly towards Number Seven, knocked, and +entered. Be it known that Mr. Flint, with characteristic caution, had not +confided even to the senator that the Honourable Hilary had had a stroke. + +"Ah, Vane," he said, in his most affable tones, "how are you?" + +The Honourable Hilary, who was looking over some papers, shot at him a +glance from under his shaggy eyebrows. + +"Came in here to find out--didn't you, Whitredge?" he replied. + +"What?" said the senator, taken aback; and for once at a loss for words. + +The Honourable Hilary rose and stood straighter than usual, and looked +the senator in the eye. + +"What's your diagnosis?" he asked. "Superannuated--unfit for duty +--unable to cope with the situation ready to be superseded? Is that about +it?" + +To say that Senator Whitredge was startled and uncomfortable would be to +put his case mildly. He had never before seen Mr. Vane in this mood. + +"Ha-ha!" he laughed; "the years are coming over us a little, aren't they? +But I guess it isn't quite time for the youngsters to step in yet." + +"No, Whitredge," said Mr. Vane, slowly, without taking his eye from the +senator's, "and it won't be until this convention is over. Do you +understand?" + +"That's the first good news I've heard this morning," said the senator, +with the uneasy feeling that, in some miraculous way, the Honourable +Hilary had read the superseding orders from highest authority through his +pocket. + +"You may take it as good news or bad news, as you please, but it's a +fact. And now I want 'YOU' to tell Ridout that I wish to see him again, +and to bring in Doby, who is to be chairman of the convention." + +"Certainly," assented the senator, with alacrity, as he started for the +door. Then he turned. "I'm glad to see you're all right, Vane," he added; +"I'd heard that you were a little under the weather--a bilious attack on +account of the heat--that's all I meant." He did not wait for an answer, +nor would he have got one. And he found Mr. Ridout in the hall. + +"Well?" said the lawyer, expectantly, and looking with some curiosity at +the senator's face. + +"Well," said Mr. Whitredge, with marked impatience, "he wants to see you +right away." + +All day long Hilary Vane held conference in Number Seven, and at six +o'clock sent a request that the Honourable Adam visit him. The Honourable +Adam would not come; and the fact leaked out--through the Honourable +Adam. + +"He's mad clean through," reported the Honourable Elisha Jane, to whose +tact and diplomacy the mission had been confided. "He said he would teach +Flint a lesson. He'd show him he couldn't throw away a man as useful and +efficient as he'd been, like a sucked orange." + +"Humph! A sucked orange. That's what he said, is it? A sucked orange," +Hilary repeated. + +"That's what he said," declared Mr. Jane, and remembered afterwards how +Hilary had been struck by the simile. + +At ten o'clock at night, at the very height of the tumult, Senator +Whitredge had received an interrogatory telegram from Fairview, and had +called a private conference (in which Hilary was not included) in a back +room on the second floor (where the conflicting bands of Mr. Crewe and +Mr. Hunt could not be heard), which Mr. Manning and Mr. Jane and State +Senator Billings and Mr. Ridout attended. Query: the Honourable Hilary +had quarrelled with Mr. Flint, that was an open secret; did not Mr. Vane +think himself justified, from his own point of view, in taking a singular +revenge in not over-exerting himself to pull the Honourable Adam out, +thereby leaving the field open for his son, Austen Vane, with whom he was +apparently reconciled? Not that Mr. Flint had hinted of such a thing! He +had, in the telegram, merely urged the senator himself to see Mr. Hunt, +and to make one more attempt to restrain the loyalty to that candidate of +Messrs. Bascom and Botcher. + +The senator made the attempt, and failed signally. + +It was half-past midnight by the shining face of the clock on the tower +of the state-house, and hope flamed high in the bosom of the Honourable +Adam B. Hunt a tribute to the bellows-like skill of Messrs. Bascom and +Botcher. The bands in the street had blown themselves out, the delegates +were at last seeking rest, the hall boys in the corridors were turning +down the lights, and the Honourable Adam, in a complacent and even +jubilant frame of mind, had put on his carpet slippers and taken off his +coat, when there came a knock at his door. He was not a little amazed and +embarrassed, upon opening it, to see the Honourable Hilary. But these +feelings gave place almost immediately to a sense of triumph; gone were +the days when he had to report to Number Seven. Number Seven, in the +person of Hilary (who was Number Seven), had been forced to come to him! + +"Well, upon my soul!" he exclaimed heartily. "Come in, Hilary." + +He turned up the jets of the chandelier, and gazed at his friend, and was +silent. + +"Have a seat, Hilary," he said, pushing up an armchair. + +Mr. Vane sat down. Mr. Hunt took a seat opposite, and waited for his +visitor to speak. He himself seemed to find no words. + +"Adam," said Mr. Vane, at length, "we've known each other for a good many +years." + +"That's so, Hilary. That's so," Mr. Hunt eagerly assented. What was +coming? + +"And whatever harm I've done in my life," Hilary continued, "I've always +tried to keep my word. I told you, when we met up there by the mill this +summer, that if Mr. Flint had consulted me about your candidacy, before +seeing you in New York, I shouldn't have advised it--this time." + +The Honourable Adam's face stiffened. + +"That's what you said. But--" + +"And I meant it," Mr. Vane interrupted. "I was never pledged to your +candidacy, as a citizen. I've been thinking over my situation some, this +summer, and I'll tell you in so many plain words what it is. I guess you +know--I guess everybody knows who's thought about it. I deceived myself +for a long time by believing that I earned my living as the attorney for +the Northeastern Railroads. I've drawn up some pretty good papers for +them, and I've won some pretty difficult suits. I'm not proud of 'em all, +but let that go. Do you know what I am?" + +The Honourable Adam was capable only of a startled ejaculation. Was +Hilary Vane in his right senses? + +"I'm merely their paid political tool," Mr. Vane continued, in the same +tone. "I've sold them my brain, and my right of opinion as a citizen. I +wanted to make this clear to you first of all. Not that you didn't know +it, but I wished you to know that I know it. When Mr. Flint said that you +were to be the Republican nominee, my business was to work to get you +elected, which I did. And when it became apparent that you couldn't be +nominated--" + +"Hold on!" cried the Honourable Adam. + +"Please wait until I have finished. When it became apparent that you +couldn't be nominated, Mr. Flint sent me to try to get you to withdraw, +and he decreed that the new candidate should pay your expenses up to +date. I failed in that mission." + +"I don't blame you, Hilary," exclaimed Mr. Hunt. "I told you so at the +time. But I guess I'll soon be in a position where I can make Flint walk +the tracks--his own tracks." + +"Adam," said Mr. Vane, "it is because I deserve as much of the blame as +Mr. Flint that I am here." + +Again Mr. Hunt was speechless. The Honourable Hilary Vane in an +apologetic mood! A surmise flashed into the brain of the Honourable Adam, +and sparkled there. The Honourable Giles Henderson was prepared to +withdraw, and Hilary had come, by authority, to see if he would pay the +Honourable Giles' campaign expenses. Well, he could snap his fingers at +that. + +"Flint has treated me like a dog," he declared. + +"Mr. Flint never pretended," answered Mr. Vane, coldly, "that the +nomination and election of a governor was anything but a business +transaction. His regard for you is probably unchanged, but the interests +he has at stake are too large to admit of sentiment as a factor." + +"Exactly," exclaimed Mr. Hunt. "And I hear he hasn't treated you just +right, Hilary. I understand--" + +Hilary's eyes flashed for the first time. + +"Never mind that, Adam," he said quietly; "I've been treated as I +deserve. I have nothing whatever to complain of from Mr. Flint. I will +tell you why I came here to-night. I haven't felt right about you since +that interview, and the situation to-night is practically what it was +then. You can't be nominated." + +"Can't be nominated!" gasped Mr: Hunt. And he reached to the table for +his figures. "I'll have four hundred on the first ballot, and I've got +two hundred and fifty more pledged to me as second choice. If you've come +up here at this time of night to try to deceive me on that, you might as +well go back and wire Flint it's no use. Why, I can name the delegates, +if you'll listen." + +Mr. Vane shook his head sadly. And, confident as he was, the movement +sent a cold chill down the Honourable Adam's spine, for faith in Mr. +Vane's judgment had become almost a second nature. He had to force +himself to remember that this was not the old Hilary. + +"You won't have three hundred, Adam, at any time," answered Mr. Vane. +"Once you used to believe what I said, and if you won't now, you won't. +But I can't go away without telling you what I came for." + +"What's that?" demanded Mr. Hunt, wonderingly. + +"It's this," replied Hilary, with more force than he had yet shown. "You +can't get that nomination. If you'll let me know what your campaign +expenses have been up to date,--all of 'em, you understand, to-night +too,--I'll give you a check for them within the next two weeks." + +"Who makes this offer?" demanded Mr. Hunt, with more curiosity than +alarm; "Mr. Flint?" + +"No," said Hilary; "Mr. Flint does not use the road's funds for such +purposes." + +"Henderson?" + +"No," said Hilary; "I can't see what difference it makes to you." + +The Honourable Adam had an eminently human side, and he laid his hand on +Mr. Vane's knee. + +"I think I've got a notion as to where that money would come from, +Hilary," he said. "I'm much obliged to you, my friend. I wouldn't take it +even if I thought you'd sized up the situation right. But--I don't agree +with you this time. I know I've got the nomination. And I want to say +once more, that I think you're a square man, and I don't hold anything +against you." + +Mr. Vane rose. + +"I'm sorry, Adam," he said; my offer holds good after to-morrow." + +"After to-morrow!" + +"Yes," said the Honourable Hilary. "I don't feel right about this thing. +Er--good night, Adam." + +"Hold on!" cried Mr. Hunt, as a new phase of the matter struck him. "Why, +if I got out--" + +"What then?" said Mr. Vane, turning around. + +"Oh, I won't get out," said Mr. Hunt, "but if I did,--why, there +wouldn't, according to your way of thinking, be any chance for a dark +horse." + +"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Vane. + +"Now don't get mad, Hilary. I guess, and you know, that Flint hasn't +treated you decently this summer after all you've done for him, and I +admire the way you're standing by him. I wouldn't do it. I just wanted to +say," Mr. Hunt added slowly, "that I respect you all the more for trying +to get me out. If--always according to your notion of the convention--if +I don't get out, and haven't any chance, they tell me on pretty good +authority Austen Vane will get the nomination." + +Hilary Vane walked to the door, opened it and went out, and slammed it +behind him. + +It is morning,--a hot morning, as so many recall,--and the partisans of +the three leaders are early astir, and at seven-thirty Mr. Tooting +discovers something going on briskly which he terms "dealing in futures." +My vote is yours as long as you are in the race, but after that I have +something negotiable. The Honourable Adam Hunt strolls into the rotunda +after an early breakfast, with a toothpick in his mouth, and is pointed +out by the sophisticated to new arrivals as the man who spent seven +thousand dollars over night, much of which is said to have stuck in the +pockets of two feudal chiefs who could be named. Is it possible that +there is a split in the feudal system at last? that the two feudal chiefs +(who could be named) are rebels against highest authority? A smile from +the sophisticated one. This duke and baron have merely stopped to pluck a +bird; it matters not whether or not the bird is an erstwhile friend--he +has been outlawed by highest authority, and is fair game. The bird (with +the toothpick in his mouth) creates a smile from other chiefs of the +system in good standing who are not too busy to look at him. They have +ceased all attempts to buttonhole him, for he is unapproachable. + +The other bird, the rebel of Leith, who has never been in the feudal +system at all, they have stopped laughing at. It is he who has brought +the Empire to its most precarious state. + +And now, while strangers from near and far throng into town, drawn by the +sensational struggle which is to culminate in battle to-day, Mr. Crewe is +marshalling his forces. All the delegates who can be collected, and who +wear the button with the likeness and superscription of Humphrey Crewe, +are drawn up beside the monument in the park, where the Ripton Band is +stationed; and presently they are seen by cheering crowds marching to +martial music towards the convention hall, where they collect in a body, +with signs and streamers in praise of the People's Champion well to the +front and centre. This is generally regarded as a piece of consummate +general ship on the part of their leader. They are applauded from the +galleries,--already packed,--especially from one conspicuous end where +sit that company of ladies (now so famed) whose efforts have so +materially aided the cause of the People's Champion. Gay streamers vie +with gayer gowns, and morning papers on the morrow will have something to +say about the fashionable element and the special car which brought them +from Leith. + +"My, but it is hot!" + +The hall is filled now, with the thousand delegates, or their +representatives who are fortunate enough to possess their credentials. +Something of this matter later. General Doby, chairman of the convention, +an impressive but mournful figure, could not call a roll if he wanted to. +Not that he will want to! Impossible to tell, by the convenient laws of +the State, whether the duly elected delegates of Hull or Mercer or Truro +are here or not, since their credentials may be bought or sold or +conferred. Some political giants, who have not negotiated their +credentials, are recognized as they walk down the aisle: the +statesmanlike figure of Senator Whitredge (a cheer); that of Senator +Green (not so statesmanlike, but a cheer); Congressman Fairplay (cheers); +and--Hilary Vane! His a figure that does not inspire cheers,--least of +all to-day,--the man upon whose shoulders rests the political future of +the Northeastern. The conservative Mr. Tredways and other Lincoln +radicals of long ago who rely on his strength and judgment are not the +sort to cheer. And yet--and yet Hilary inspires some feeling when, with +stooping gait, he traverses the hall, and there is a hush in many +quarters as delegates and spectators watch his progress to the little +room off the platform: the general's room, as the initiated know. + +Ah, but few know what a hateful place it is to Hilary Vane to-day, this +keyboard at which he has sat so complacently in years gone by, the envied +of conventions. He sits down wearily at the basswood table, and scarcely +hears the familiar sounds without, which indicate that the convention of +conventions has begun. Extraordinary phenomenon at such a time, scenes of +long ago and little cherished then, are stealing into his mind. + +The Reverend Mr. Crane (so often chaplain of the Legislature, and known +to the irreverent as the chaplain of the Northeastern) is praying now for +guidance in the counsels of this great gathering of the people's +representatives. God will hear Mr. Botcher better if he closes his eyes; +which he does. Now the platform is being read by State Senator Billings; +closed eyes would best suit this proceeding, too. As a parallel to that +platform, one can think only of the Ten Commandments. The Republican +Party (chosen children of Israel) must be kept free from the domination +of corporations. (Cheers and banner waving for a full minute.) Some +better method of choosing delegates which will more truly reflect the +will of the people. (Plank of the Honourable Jacob Botcher, whose +conscience is awakening.) Never mind the rest. It is a triumph for Mr. +Crewe, and is all printed in that orthodox (reform) newspaper, the State +Tribune, with urgent editorials that it must be carried out to the +letter. + +And what now? Delegates, credential holders, audience, and the Reverend +Mr. Crane draw long breaths of heated carbon dioxide. Postmaster Burrows +of Edmundton, in rounded periods, is putting in nomination his +distinguished neighbour and fellow-citizen, the Honourable Adam B. Hunt, +who can subscribe and say amen to every plank in that platform. He +believes it, he has proclaimed it in public, and he embodies it. Mr. +Burrows indulges in slight but effective sarcasm of sham reformers and +so-called business men who perform the arduous task of cutting coupons +and live in rarefied regions where they can only be seen by the common +people when the light is turned on. (Cheers from two partisan bodies and +groans and hisses from another. General Doby, with a pained face, +pounding with the gavel. This isn't a circumstance to what's coming, +General.) + +After General Doby has succeeded in abating the noise in honour-of the +Honourable Adam, there is a hush of expectancy. Humphrey Crewe, who has +made all this trouble and enthusiasm, is to be nominated next, and the +Honourable Timothy Wailing of Newcastle arises to make that celebrated +oration which the cynical have called the "thousand-dollar speech." And +even if they had named it well (which is not for a moment to be +admitted!), it is cheap for the price. How Mr. Crewe's ears must tingle +as he paces his headquarters in the Pelican! Almost would it be sacrilege +to set down cold, on paper, the words that come, burning, out of the +Honourable Timothy's loyal heart. Here, gentlemen, is a man at last, not +a mere puppet who signs his name when a citizen of New York pulls the +string; one who is prepared to make any sacrifice,--to spend his life, if +need be, in their service. (A barely audible voice, before the cheering +commences, "I guess that's so.") Humphrey Crewe needs no defence--the +Honourable Timothy avers--at his hands, or any one's. Not merely an +idealist, but a practical man who has studied the needs of the State; +unselfish to the core; longing, like Washington, the Father of his +Country, to remain in a beautiful country home, where he dispenses +hospitality with a flowing hand to poor and rich alike, yet harking to +the call of duty. Leaving, like the noble Roman of old, his plough in the +furrow--(Same voice as before, "I wish he'd left his automobil' thar!" +Hisses and laughter.) The Honourable Timothy, undaunted, snatches his +hand from the breast of his Prince Albert and flings it, with a superb +gesture, towards the Pelican. "Gentlemen, I have the honour to nominate +to this convention that peerless leader for the right, the Honourable +Humphrey Crewe of Leith--our next governor." + +General Andrew Jackson himself, had he been alive and on this historic +ground and chairman of that convention, could scarce have quelled the +tumult aroused by this name and this speech--much less General Doby. +Although a man of presence, measurable by scales with weights enough, our +general has no more ponderosity now than a leaf in a mountain storm at +Hale--and no more control over the hurricane. Behold him now, pounding +with his gavel on something which should give forth a sound, but doesn't. +Who is he (to change the speech's figure--not the general's), who is he +to drive a wild eight-horse team, who is fit only to conduct Mr. Flint's +oxen in years gone by? + +It is a memorable scene, sketched to life for the metropolitan press. The +man on the chair, his face lighted by a fanatic enthusiasm, is the +Honourable Hamilton Tooting, coatless and collarless, leading the cheers +that shake the building, that must have struck terror to the soul of +Augustus P. Flint himself--fifty miles away. But the endurance of the +human throat is limited. + +Why, in the name of political strategy, has United States Senator Greene +been chosen to nominate the Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston? Some +say that it is the will of highest authority, others that the senator is +a close friend of the Honourable Giles--buys his coal from him, +wholesale. Both surmises are true. The senator's figure is not +impressive, his voice less so, and he reads from manuscript, to the +accompaniment of continual cries of "Louder!" A hook for Leviathan! "A +great deal of dribble," said the senator, for little rocks sometimes +strike fire, "has been heard about the 'will of the people.'" + +The Honourable Giles Henderson is beholden to no man and to no +corporation, and will go into office prepared to do justice impartially +to all." + +"Bu--copia verborum--let us to the main business!" + +To an hundred newspapers, to Mr. Flint at Fairview, and other important +personages ticks out the momentous news that the balloting has begun. No +use trying to hold your breath until the first ballot is announced; it +takes time to obtain the votes of one thousand men--especially when +neither General Doby nor any one else knows who they are! The only way is +to march up on the stage by counties and file past the ballot-box. +Putnam, with their glitter-eyed duke, Mr. Bascom, at their head +--presumably solid for Adam B. Hunt; Baron Burrows, who farms out the +post-office at Edmundton, leads Edmunds County; Earl Elisha Jane, consul +at some hot place where he spends the inclement months drops the first +ticket for Haines County, ostensibly solid for home-made virtue and the +Honourable Giles. + +An hour and a quarter of suspense and torture passes, while collars wilt +and coats come off, and fans in the gallery wave incessantly, and excited +conversation buzzes in every quarter. And now, see! there is whispering +on the stage among the big-bugs. Mr. Chairman Doby rises with a paper in +his hand, and the buzzing dies down to silence. + + The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . .398 + The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . 353 + The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has. . 249 + And a majority being required, there is no choice! + +Are the supporters of the People's Champion crest-fallen, think you? Mr. +Tooting is not leading them for the moment, but is pressing through the +crowd outside the hall and flying up the street to the Pelican and the +bridal suite, where he is first with the news. Note for an unabridged +biography: the great man is discovered sitting quietly by the window, +poring over a book on the modern science of road-building, some notes +from which he is making for his first message. And instead of the reek of +tobacco smoke, the room is filled with the scent of the floral tributes +brought down by the Ladies' Auxiliary from Leith. In Mr. Crewe's +right-hand pocket, neatly typewritten, is his speech of acceptance. He is +never caught unprepared. Unkind, now, to remind him of that prediction +made last night about the first ballot to the newspapers--and useless. + +"I told you last night they were buyin' 'em right under our noses," cried +Mr. Tooting, in a paroxysm of indignation, "and you wouldn't believe me. +They got over one hundred and sixty away from us." + +"It strikes me, Mr. Tooting," said Mr. Crewe, "that it was your business +to prevent that." + +There will no doubt be a discussion, when the biographer reaches this +juncture, concerning the congruity of reform delegates who can be bought. +It is too knotty a point of ethics to be dwelt upon here. + +"Prevent it!" echoed Mr. Tooting, and in the strong light of the +righteousness of that eye reproaches failed him. "But there's a whole lot +of 'em can be seen, right now, while the ballots are being taken. It +won't be decided on the next ballot." + +"Mr. Tooting," said Mr. Crewe, indubitably proving that he had the +qualities of a leader--if such proof were necessary, "go back to the +convention. I have no doubt of the outcome, but that doesn't mean you are +to relax your efforts. Do you understand?" + +"I guess I do," replied Mr. Tooting, and was gone. "He still has his flag +up," he whispered into the Honourable Timothy Watling's ear, when he +reached the hall. "He'll stand a little more yet." + +Mr. Tooting, at times, speaks a language unknown to us--and the second +ballot is going on. And during its progress the two principal lieutenants +of the People's Champion were observed going about the hall apparently +exchanging the time of day with various holders of credentials. Mr. Jane, +too, is going about the hall, and Postmaster Burrows, and Postmaster Bill +Fleeting of Brampton, and the Honourable Nat Billings, and Messrs. Bascom +and Botcher, and Mr. Manning, division superintendent, and the Honourable +Orrin Young, railroad commissioner and candidate for reappointment--all +are embracing the opportunity to greet humble friends or to make new +acquaintances. Another hour and a quarter, with the temperature steadily +rising and the carbon dioxide increasing--and the second ballot is +announced. + + The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . 440 + The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . . 336 + The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has . . . 255 + +And there are three votes besides improperly made out! + +What the newspapers call indescribable excitement ensues. The three votes +improperly made out are said to be trip passes accidentally dropped into +the box by the supporters of the Honourable Elisha Jane. And add up the +sum total of the votes! Thirty-one votes more than there are credentials +in the hall! Mystery of mysteries how can it be? The ballot, announces +General Doby, after endless rapping, is a blank. Cheers, recriminations, +exultation, disgust of decent citizens, attempts by twenty men to get the +eye of the president (which is too watery to see any of them), and rushes +for the platform to suggest remedies or ask what is going to be done +about such palpable fraud. What can be done? Call the roll! How in blazes +can you call the roll when you don't know who's here? Messrs. Jane, +Botcher, Bascom, and Fleming are not disturbed, and improve their time. +Watling and Tooting rush to the bridal suite, and rush back again to +demand justice. General Doby mingles his tears with theirs, and somebody +calls him a jellyfish. He does not resent it. Friction makes the air +hotter and hotter--Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego would scarce enter +into this furnace,--and General Doby has a large damp spot on his back as +he pounds and pounds and pounds until we are off again on the third +ballot. No dinner, and three-thirty P.M.! Two delegates have fainted, but +the essential parts of them--the credentials--are left behind. + +Four-forty, whispering again, and the gavel drops. + + The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . 412 + The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . 325 + The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has. . . 250 + And there is no choice on the third ballot! + +Thirteen delegates are actually missing this time. Scour the town! And +now even the newspaper adjectives describing the scene have given out. A +persistent and terrifying rumour goes the rounds, where's Tom Gaylord? +Somebody said he was in the hall a moment ago, on a Ripton credential. If +so, he's gone out again--gone out to consult the dark horse, who is in +town, somewhere. Another ominous sign: Mr. Redbrook, Mr. Widgeon of Hull, +and the other rural delegates who have been voting for the People's +Champion, and who have not been observed in friendly conversation with +anybody at all, now have their heads together. Mr. Billings goes +sauntering by, but cannot hear what they are saying. Something must be +done, and right away, and the knowing metropolitan reporters are winking +at each other and declaring darkly that a sensation is about to turn up. + +Where is Hilary Vane? Doesn't he realize the danger? Or--traitorous +thought!--doesn't he care? To see his son nominated would be a singular +revenge for the indignities which are said to have been heaped upon him. +Does Hilary Vane, the strong man of the State, merely sit at the +keyboard, powerless, while the tempest itself shakes from the organ a new +and terrible music? Nearly, six hours he has sat at the basswood table, +while senators, congressmen, feudal chiefs, and even Chairman Doby +himself flit in and out, whisper in his ear, set papers before him, and +figures and problems, and telegrams from highest authority. He merely +nods his head, says a word now and then, or holds his peace. Does he know +what he's about? If they had not heard things concerning his health,--and +other things,--they would still feel safe. He seems the only calm man to +be found in the hall--but is the calm aberration? + +A conference in the corner of the platform, while the fourth ballot is +progressing, is held between Senators Whitredge and Greene, Mr. Ridout +and Mr. Manning. So far the Honourable Hilary has apparently done nothing +but let the storm take its course; a wing-footed messenger has returned +who has seen Mr. Thomas Gaylord walking rapidly up Maple Street, and +Austen Vane (most astute and reprehensible of politicians) is said to be +at the Widow Peasley's, quietly awaiting the call. The name of Austen +Vane--another messenger says--is running like wildfire through the hall, +from row to row. Mr. Crewe has no chance--so rumour goes. A reformer (to +pervert the saying of a celebrated contemporary humorist) must fight +Marquis of Queensberry to win; and the People's Champion, it is averred, +has not. Shrewd country delegates who had listened to the Champion's +speeches and had come to the capital prepared to vote for purity, had +been observing the movements since yesterday, of Mr. Tooting and Mr. +Wading with no inconsiderable interest. Now was the psychological moment +for Austen Vane, but who was to beard Hilary? + +No champion was found, and the Empire, the fate of which was in the hands +of a madman, was cracking. Let an individual of character and known +anti-railroad convictions (such as the gentleman said to be at the Widow +Peasley's) be presented to the convention, and they would nominate him. +Were Messrs. Bascom and Botcher going to act the part of Samsons? Were +they working for revenge and a new regime? Mr. Whitredge started for the +Pelican, not at his ordinary senatorial gait, to get Mr. Flint on the +telephone. + +The result of the fourth ballot was announced, and bedlam broke loose. + +The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . 419 The Honourable +Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . . 337 The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of +Edmundton has . . . 256 + +Total, one thousand and eleven out of a thousand! Two delegates abstained +from voting, and proclaimed the fact, but were heard only a few feet +away. Other delegates, whose flesh and blood could stand the atmosphere +no longer, were known to have left the hall! Aha! the secret is out, if +anybody could hear it. At the end of every ballot several individuals +emerge and mix with the crowd in the street. Astute men sometimes make +mistakes, and the following conversation occurs between one of the +individuals in question and Mr. Crewe's chauffeur. + + Individual: "Do you want to come in and see the convention and + vote?" + + Chauffeur: "I am Frenchman." + + Individual: "That doesn't cut any ice. I'll make out the ballot, + and all you'll have to do is to drop it in the box." + Chauffeur: "All right; I vote for Meester Crewe." + +Sudden disappearance of the individual. + +Nor is this all. The Duke of Putnam, for example, knows how many +credentials there are in his county--say, seventy-six. He counts the men +present and voting, and his result is sixty-one. Fifteen are absent, +getting food or--something else. Fifteen vote over again. But, as the +human brain is prone to error, and there are men in the street, the Duke +miscalculates; the Earl of Haines miscalculates, too. Result--eleven over +a thousand votes, and some nine hundred men in the hall! + +How are you going to stop it? Mr. Watling climbs up on the platform and +shakes his fist in General Doby's face, and General Doby tearfully +appeals for an honest ballot--to the winds. + +In the meantime the Honourable Elisha Jane, spurred on by desperation and +thoughts of a 'dolce far niente' gone forever; has sought and cornered +Mr. Bascom. + +"For God's sake, Brush," cries the Honourable Elisha, "hasn't this thing +gone far enough? A little of it is all right--the boys understand that; +but have you thought what it means to you and me if these blanked +reformers get in,--if a feller like Austen Vane is nominated?" + +That cold, hard glitter which we have seen was in Mr. Bascom's eyes. + +"You fellers have got the colic," was the remark of the arch-rebel. "Do +you think old Hilary doesn't know what he's about?" + +"It looks that way to me," said Mr. Jane. + +"It looks that way to Doby too, I guess," said Mr. Bascom, with a glance +of contempt at the general; "he's lost about fifteen pounds to-day. Did +Hilary send you down here?" he demanded. + +"No," Mr. Jane confessed. + +"Then go back and chase yourself around the platform some more," was Mr. +Bascom's unfeeling advice, "and don't have a fit here. All the brains in +this hall are in Hilary's room. When he's ready to talk business with me +in behalf of the Honourable Giles Henderson, I guess he'll do so." + +But fear had entered the heart of the Honourable Elisha, and there was a +sickly feeling in the region of his stomach which even the strong +medicine administered by the Honourable Brush failed to alleviate. He +perceived Senator Whitredge, returned from the Pelican. But the advice +--if any--the president of the Northeastern has given the senator is not +forthcoming in practice. Mr. Flint, any more than Ulysses himself, cannot +recall the tempests when his own followers have slit the bags--and in +sight of Ithaca! Another conference at the back of the stage, out of +which emerges State Senator Nat Billings and gets the ear of General +Doby. + +"Let 'em yell," says Mr. Billings--as though the general, by raising one +adipose hand, could quell the storm. Eyes are straining, scouts are +watching at the back of the hall and in the street, for the first glimpse +of the dreaded figure of Mr. Thomas Gaylord. "Let 'em yell;" counsels Mr. +Billings, "and if they do nominate anybody nobody'll hear 'em. And send +word to Putnam County to come along on their fifth ballot." + +It is Mr. Billings himself who sends word to Putnam County, in the name +of the convention's chairman. Before the messenger can reach Putnam +County another arrives on the stage, with wide pupils, "Tom Gaylord is +coming!" This momentous news, Marconi-like, penetrates the storm, and is +already on the floor. Mr. Widgeon and Mr. Redbrook are pushing their way +towards the door. The conference, emboldened by terror, marches in a body +into the little room, and surrounds the calmly insane Lieutenant-general +of the forces; it would be ill-natured to say that visions of lost +railroad commissionerships, lost consulships, lost postmasterships, +--yes, of lost senatorships, were in these loyal heads at this crucial +time. + +It was all very well (so said the first spokesman) to pluck a few +feathers from a bird so bountifully endowed as the Honourable Adam, but +were not two gentlemen who should be nameless carrying the joke a little +too far? Mr. Vane unquestionably realized what he was doing, but--was it +not almost time to call in the two gentlemen and--and come to some +understanding? + +"Gentlemen," said the Honourable Hilary, apparently unmoved, "I have not +seen Mr. Bascom or Mr. Botcher since the sixteenth day of August, and I +do not intend to." + +Some clearing of throats followed this ominous declaration,--and a +painful silence. The thing must be said and who would say it? Senator +Whitredge was the hero. + +Mr. Thomas Gaylord has just entered the convention hall, and is said to +be about to nominate--a dark horse. The moment was favourable, the +convention demoralized, and at least one hundred delegates had left the +hall. (How about the last ballot, Senator, which showed 1011?) + +The Honourable Hilary rose abruptly, closed the door to shut out the +noise, and turned and looked Mr. Whitredge in the eye. + +"Who is the dark horse?" he demanded. + +The members of the conference coughed again, looked at each other, and +there was a silence. For some inexplicable reason, nobody cared to +mention the name of Austen Vane. + +The Honourable Hilary pointed at the basswood table. + +"Senator," he said, "I understand you have been telephoning Mr. Flint. +Have you got orders to sit down there?" + +"My dear sir," said the Senator, "you misunderstand me." + +"Have you got orders to sit down there?" Mr. Vane repeated. + +"No," answered the Senator, "Mr. Flint's confidence in you--" + +The Honourable Hilary sat down again, and at that instant the door was +suddenly flung open by Postmaster Bill Fleeting of Brampton, his genial +face aflame with excitement and streaming with perspiration. Forgotten, +in this moment, is senatorial courtesy and respect for the powers of the +feudal system. + +"Say, boys," he cried, "Putnam County's voting, and there's be'n no +nomination and ain't likely to be. Jim Scudder, the station-master at +Wye, is here on credentials, and he says for sure the thing's fizzled +out, and Tom Gaylord's left the hall!" + +Again a silence, save for the high hum let in through the open doorway. +The members of the conference stared at the Honourable Hilary, who seemed +to have forgotten their presence; for he had moved his chair to the +window, and was gazing out over the roofs at the fast-fading red in the +western sky. + +An hour later, when the room was in darkness save for the bar of light +that streamed in from the platform chandelier, Senator Whitredge entered. + +"Hilary!" he said. + +There was no answer. Mr. Whitredge felt in his pocket for a match, struck +it, and lighted the single jet over the basswood table. Mr. Vane still +sat by the window. The senator turned and closed the door, and read from +a paper in his hand; so used was he to formality that he read it +formally, yet with a feeling of intense relief, of deference, of apology. + +"Fifth ballot:--The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . . 587; +The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has . . . 230; The Honourable +Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . 154. + +And Giles Henderson is nominated--Hilary?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Vane. + +"I don't think any of us were--quite ourselves to-day. It wasn't that we +didn't believe in you--but we didn't have all the threads in our hands, +and--for reasons which I think I can understand--you didn't take us into +your confidence. I want to--" + +The words died on the senator's lips. So absorbed had he been in his +momentous news, and solicitous over the result of his explanation, that +his eye looked outward for the first time, and even then accidentally. + +"Hilary!" he cried; "for God's sake, what's the matter? Are you sick?" + +"Yes, Whitredge," said Mr. Vane, slowly, "sick at heart." + +It was but natural that these extraordinary and incomprehensible words +should have puzzled and frightened the senator more than ever. + +"Your heart!" he repeated. + +"Yes, my heart," said Hilary. + +The senator reached for the ice-water on the table. + +"Here," he cried, pouring out a glass, "it's only the heat--it's been a +hard day--drink this." + +But Hilary did not raise his arm. The door opened others coming to +congratulate Hilary Vane on the greatest victory he had ever won. Offices +were secure once more, the feudal system intact, and rebels justly +punished; others coming to make their peace with the commander whom, +senseless as they were, they had dared to doubt. + +They crowded past each other on the threshold, and stood grouped beyond +the basswood table, staring--staring--men suddenly come upon a tragedy +instead of a feast, the senator still holding the glass of water in a +hand that trembled and spilled it. And it was the senator, after all, who +first recovered his presence of mind. He set down the water, pushed his +way through the group into the hall, where the tumult and the shouting +die. Mr. Giles Henderson, escorted, is timidly making his way towards the +platform to read his speech of acceptance of a willing bondage, when a +voice rings out:--"If there is a physician in the house, will he please +come forward?" + +And then a hush,--and then the buzz of comment. Back to the little room +once more, where they are gathered speechless about Hilary Vane. And the +doctor comes young Dr. Tredway of Ripton, who is before all others. + +"I expected this to happen, gentlemen," he said, "and I have been here +all day, at the request of Mr. Vane's son, for this purpose." + +"Austen!" + +It was Hilary who spoke. + +"I have sent for him," said the doctor. "And now, gentlemen, if you will +kindly--" + +They withdrew and the doctor shut the door. Outside, the Honourable Giles +is telling them how seriously he regards the responsibility of the honour +thrust upon him by a great party. But nobody hears him in the wild +rumours that fly from mouth to mouth as the hall empties. Rushing in +against the tide outpouring, tall, stern, vigorous, is a young man whom +many recognize, whose name is on many lips as they make way for him, who +might have saved them if he would. The door of the little room opens, and +he stands before his father, looking down at him. And the stern +expression is gone from his face. + +"Austen!" said Mr. Vane. + +"Yes, Judge." + +"Take me away from here. Take me home--now--to-night." + +Austen glanced at Dr. Tredway. + +"It is best," said the doctor; "we will take him home--to-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE VOICE OF AN ERA + +They took him home, in the stateroom of the sleeper attached to the night +express from the south, although Mr. Flint, by telephone, had put a +special train at his disposal. The long service of Hilary Vane was over; +he had won his last fight for the man he had chosen to call his master; +and those who had fought behind him, whose places, whose very luminary +existences, had depended on his skill, knew that the end had come; nay, +were already speculating, manoeuvring, and taking sides. Who would be the +new Captain-general? Who would be strong enough to suppress the straining +ambitions of the many that the Empire might continue to flourish in its +integrity and gather tribute? It is the world-old cry around the palace +walls: Long live the new ruler--if you can find him among the curdling +factions. + +They carried Hilary home that September night, when Sawanec was like a +gray ghost-mountain facing the waning moon, back to the home of those +strange, Renaissance Austens which he had reclaimed for a grim +puritanism, and laid him in the carved and canopied bedstead Channing +Austen had brought from Spain. Euphrasia had met them at the door, but a +trained nurse from the Ripton hospital was likewise in waiting; and a New +York specialist had been summoned to prolong, if possible, the life of +one from whom all desire for life had passed. + +Before sunrise a wind came from the northern spruces; the dawn was +cloudless, fiery red, and the air had an autumn sharpness. At ten o'clock +Dr. Harmon arrived, was met at the station by Austen, and spent half an +hour with Dr. Tredway. At noon the examination was complete. Thanks to +generations of self-denial by the Vanes of Camden Street, Mr. Hilary Vane +might live indefinitely, might even recover, partially; but at present he +was condemned to remain, with his memories, in the great canopied bed. + +The Honourable Hilary had had another caller that morning besides Dr. +Harmon,--no less a personage than the president of the Northeastern +Railroads himself, who had driven down from Fairview immediately after +breakfast. Austen having gone to the station, Dr. Tredway had received +Mr. Flint in the darkened hall, and had promised to telephone to Fairview +the verdict of the specialist. At present Dr. Tredway did not think it +wise to inform Hilary of Mr. Flint's visit--not, at least, until after +the examination. + +Mr. Vane exhibited the same silent stoicism on receiving the verdict of +Dr. Harmon as he had shown from the first. With the clew to Hilary's life +which Dr. Tredway had given him, the New York physician understood the +case; one common enough in his practice in a great city where the fittest +survive--sometimes only to succumb to unexpected and irreparable blows in +the evening of life. + +On his return from seeing Dr. Harmon off Austen was met on the porch by +Dr. Tredway. + +"Your father has something on his mind," said the doctor, "and perhaps it +is just as well that he should be relieved. He is asking for you, and I +merely wished to advise you to make the conversation as short as +possible." + +Austen climbed the stairs in obedience to this summons, and stood before +his father at the bedside. Hilary lay, back among the pillows, and the +brightness of that autumn noonday only served to accentuate the pallor of +his face, the ravages of age which had come with such incredible +swiftness, and the outline of a once vigorous frame. The eyes alone shone +with a strange new light, and Austen found it unexpectedly difficult to +speak. He sat down on the bed and laid his hand on the helpless one that +rested on the coverlet. + +"Austen," said Mr. Vane, "I want you to go to Fairview." + +His son's hand tightened over his own. + +"Yes, Judge." + +"I want you to go now." + +"Yes, Judge." + +"You know the combination of my safe at the office. It's never been +changed since--since you were there. Open it. You will find two tin +boxes, containing papers labelled Augustus P. Flint. I want you to take +them to Fairview and put them into the hands of Mr. Flint himself. I--I +cannot trust any one else. I promised to take them myself, but--Flint +will understand." + +"I'll go right away," said Austen, rising, and trying to speak +cheerfully. "Mr. Flint was here early this morning--inquiring for you." + +Hilary Vane's lips trembled, and another expression came into his eyes. + +"Rode down to look at the scrap-heap,--did he?" + +Austen strove to conceal his surprise at his father's words and change of +manner. + +"Tredway saw him," he said. "I'm pretty sure Mr. Flint doesn't feel that +way, Judge. He has taken your illness very much to heart, I know, and he +left some fruit and flowers for you." + +"I guess his daughter sent those," said Hilary. + +"His daughter?" Austen repeated. + +"If I didn't think so," Mr. Vane continued, "I'd send 'em back. I never +knew what she was until she picked me up and drove me down here. I've +always done Victoria an injustice." + +Austen walked to the door, and turned slowly. + +"I'll go at once, Judge," he said. + +In the kitchen he was confronted by Euphrasia. + +"When is that woman going away?" she demanded. "I've took care of Hilary +Vane nigh on to forty years, and I guess I know as much about nursing, +and more about Hilary, than that young thing with her cap and apron. I +told Dr. Tredway so. She even came down here to let me know what to cook +for him, and I sent her about her business." + +Austen smiled. It was the first sign, since his return the night before, +Euphrasia had given that an affection for Hilary Vane lurked beneath the +nature. + +"She won't stay long, Phrasie," he answered, and added mischievously, +"for a very good reason." + +"And what's that?" asked Euphrasia. + +"Because you won't allow her to. I have a notion that she'll pack up and +leave in about three days, and that all the doctors in Ripton couldn't +keep her here." + +"Get along with you," said Euphrasia, who could not for the life of her +help looking a little pleased. + +"I'm going off for a few hours," he said more seriously. "Dr. Tredway +tells me they do not look for any developments--for the worse." + +"Where are you going?" asked Euphrasia, sharply. + +"To Fairview," he said. + +Euphrasia moved the kettle to another part of the stove. + +"You'll see her?" she said. + +"Who?" Austen asked. But his voice must have betrayed him a little, for +Euphrasia turned and seized him by the elbows and looked up into his +face. + +"Victoria," she said. + +He felt himself tremble at the name,--at the strangeness of its sound on +Euphrasia's lips. + +"I do not expect to see Miss Flint," he answered, controlling himself as +well as he was able. "I have an errand for the Judge with Mr. Flint +himself." + +Euphrasia had guessed his secret! But how? + +"Hadn't you better see her?" said Euphrasia, in a curious monotone. + +"But I have no errand with her," he objected, mystified yet excited by +Euphrasia's manner. + +"She fetched Hilary home," said Euphrasia. + +"Yes." + +She couldn't have be'n kinder if she was his own daughter." + +"I know--" he began, but Euphrasia interrupted. + +"She sent that Englishman for the doctor, and waited to take the news to +her father, and she came out in this kitchen and talked to me." + +Austen started. Euphrasia was not looking at him now, and suddenly she +dropped his arms and went to the window overlooking the garden. + +"She wouldn't go in the parlour, but come right out here in her fine +clothes. I told her I didn't think she belonged in a kitchen--but I guess +I did her an injustice," said Euphrasia, slowly. + +"I think you did," he said, and wondered. + +"She looked at that garden," Euphrasia went on, "and cried out. I didn't +callate she was like that. And the first thing I knew I was talking about +your mother, and I'd forgot who I was talking to. She wahn't like a +stranger--it was just as if I'd known her always. I haven't understood it +yet. And after a while I told her about that verse, and she wanted to see +it--the verse about the skylark, you know--" + +"Yes," said Austen. + +"Well, the way she read it made me cry, it brought back Sarah Austen so. +Somehow, I can't account for it, she puts me in mind of your mother." + +Austen did not speak. + +"In more ways than one," said Euphrasia. "I didn't look to find her so +natural--and so gentle. And their she has a way of scolding you, just as +Sarah Austen had, that you'd never suspect." + +"Did she scold you--Phrasie?" asked Austen. And the irresistible humour +that is so near to sorrow made him smile again. + +"Indeed she did! And it surprised, me some--coming right out of a summer +sky. I told her what I thought about Hilary, and how he'd driven you out +of your own mother's house. She said you'd ought to be sent for, and I +said you oughtn't to set foot in this house until Hilary sent for you. +She said I'd no right to take such a revenge--that you'd come right away +if you knew Hilary'd had a stroke, and that Hilary'd never send for you +--because he couldn't. She said he was like a man on a desert island." + +"She was right," answered Austen. + +"I don't know about that," said Euphrasia; "she hadn't put up with Hilary +for forty years, as I had, and seen what he'd done to your mother and +you. But that's what she said. And she went for you herself, when she +found the doctor couldn't go. Austen, ain't you going to see her?" + +Austen shook his head gently, and smiled at her. + +"I'm afraid it's no use, Phrasie," he said. "Just because she has been +--kind we mustn't be deceived. It's h er nature to be kind." + +Euphrasia crossed the room swiftly, and seized his arm again. + +"She loves you, Austen," she cried; "she loves you. Do you think that I'd +love her, that I'd plead for her, if she didn't?" + +Austen's breath came deeply. He disengaged himself, and went to the +window. + +"No," he said, "you don't know. You can't--know. I have only seen her--a +few times. She lives a different life--and with other people. She will +marry a man who can give her more." + +"Do you think I could be deceived?" exclaimed Euphrasia, almost fiercely. +"It's as true as the sun shining on that mountain. You believe she loves +the Englishman, but I tell you she loves you--you." + +He turned towards her. + +"How do you know?" he asked, as though he were merely curious. + +"Because I'm a woman, and she's a woman," said Euphrasia. "Oh, she didn't +confess it. If she had, I shouldn't think so much of her. But she told me +as plain as though she had spoken it in words, before she left this +room." + +Austen shook his head again. + +"Phrasie," he said, "I'm afraid you've been building castles in Spain." +And he went out, and across to the stable to harness Pepper. + +Austen did not believe Euphrasia. On that eventful evening when Victoria +had called at Jabe Jenney's, the world's aspect had suddenly changed for +him; old values had faded,--values which, after all, had been but tints +and glows,--and sterner but truer colours took their places. He saw +Victoria's life in a new perspective,--one in which his was but a small +place in the background of her numerous beneficences; which was, after +all, the perspective in which he had first viewed it. But, by degrees, +the hope that she loved him had grown and grown until it had become +unconsciously the supreme element of his existence,--the hope that stole +sweetly into his mind with the morning light, and stayed him through the +day, and blended into the dreams of darkness. + +By inheritance, by tradition, by habits of thought, Austen Vane was an +American,--an American as differentiated from the citizen of any other +nation upon the earth. The French have an expressive phrase in speaking +of a person as belonging to this or that world, meaning the circle by +which the life of an individual is bounded; the true American recognizes +these circles--but with complacency, and with a sure knowledge of his +destiny eventually to find himself within the one for which he is best +fitted by his talents and his tastes. The mere fact that Victoria had +been brought up amongst people with whom he had nothing in common would +not have deterred Austen Vane from pressing his suit; considerations of +honour had stood in the way, and hope had begun to whisper that these +might, in the end, be surmounted. Once they had disappeared, and she +loved him, that were excuse and reason enough. + +And suddenly the sight of Victoria with a probable suitor--who at once +had become magnified into an accepted suitor--had dispelled hope. +Euphrasia! Euphrasia had been deceived as he had, by a loving kindness +and a charity that were natural. But what so natural (to one who had +lived the life of Austen Vane) as that she should marry amongst those +whose ways of life were her ways? In the brief time in which he had seen +her and this other man, Austen's quickened perceptions had detected tacit +understanding, community of interest, a habit of thought and manner,--in +short, a common language, unknown to him, between the two. And, more than +these, the Victoria of the blissful excursions he had known was changed +as she had spoken to him--constrained, distant, apart; although still +dispensing kindness, going out of her way to bring Hilary home, and to +tell him of Hilary's accident. Rumour, which cannot be confined in casks +or bottles, had since informed Austen Vane that Mr. Rangely had spent the +day with Victoria, and had remained at Fairview far into the evening; +rumour went farther (thanks to Mrs. Pomfret) and declared the engagement +already an accomplished fact. And to Austen, in the twilight in front of +Jabe Jenney's, the affair might well have assumed the proportions of an +intimacy of long standing rather than that of the chance acquaintance of +an hour. Friends in common, modes of life in common, and incidents in +common are apt to sweep away preliminaries. + +Such were Austen's thoughts as he drove to Fairview that September +afternoon when the leaves were turning their white backs to the northwest +breeze. The sun was still high, and the distant hills and mountains were +as yet scarce stained with blue, and stood out in startling clearness +against the sky. Would he see her? That were a pain he scarce dared +contemplate. + +He reached the arched entrance, was on the drive. Here was the path again +by which she had come down the hillside; here was the very stone on which +she had stood--awaiting him. Why? Why had she done that? Well-remembered +figure amidst the yellow leaves dancing in the sunlight! Here he had +stopped, perforce, and here he had looked up into his face and smiled and +spoken! + +At length he gained the plateau across which the driveway ran, between +round young maples, straight to Fairview House, and he remembered the +stares from the tea-tables, and how she had come out to his rescue. Now +the lawn was deserted, save for a gardener among the shrubs. He rang the +stable-bell, and as he waited for an answer to his summons, the sense of +his remoteness from these surroundings of hers deepened, and with a touch +of inevitable humour he recalled the low-ceiled bedroom at Mr. Jenney's +and the kitchen in Hanover Street; the annual cost of the care of that +lawn and driveway might well have maintained one of these households. + +He told the stable-boy to wait. It is to be remarked as curious that the +name of the owner of the house on Austen's lips brought the first thought +of him to Austen's mind. He was going to see and speak with Mr. Flint, a +man who had been his enemy ever since the day he had come here and laid +down his pass on the president's desk; the man who--so he believed until +three days ago--had stood between him and happiness. Well, it did not +matter now. + +Austen followed the silent-moving servant through the hall. Those were +the stairs which knew her feet, these the rooms--so subtly +flower-scented--she lived in; then came the narrow passage to the sterner +apartment of the master himself. Mr. Flint was alone, and seated upright +behind the massive oak desk, from which bulwark the president of the +Northeastern was wont to meet his opponents and his enemies; and few +visitors came into his presence, here or elsewhere, who were not to be +got the better of, if possible. A life-long habit had accustomed Mr. +Flint to treat all men as adversaries until they were proved otherwise. +His square, close-cropped head, his large features, his alert eyes, were +those of a fighter. + +He did not rise, but nodded. Suddenly Austen was enveloped in a flame of +wrath that rose without warning and blinded him, and it was with a +supreme effort to control himself that he stopped in the doorway. He was +frightened, for he had felt this before, and he knew it for the anger +that demands physical violence. + +"Come in, Mr. Vane," said the president. + +Austen advanced to the desk, and laid the boxes before Mr. Flint. + +"Mr. Vane told me to say that he would have brought these himself, had it +been possible. Here is the list, and I shall be much obliged if you will +verify it before I go back." + +"Sit down." said Mr. Flint. + +Austen sat down, with the corner of the desk between them, while Mr. +Flint opened the boxes and began checking off the papers on the list. + +"How is your father this afternoon?" he asked, without looking up. + +"As well as can be expected," said Austen. + +"Of course nobody knew his condition but himself," Mr. Flint continued; +"but it was a great shock to me--when he resigned as my counsel three +days ago." + +Austen laid his forearm on the desk, and his hand closed. + +"He resigned three days ago?" he exclaimed. + +Mr. Flint was surprised, but concealed it. + +"I can understand, under the circumstances, how he has overlooked telling +you. His resignation takes effect to-day." + +Austen was silent a moment, while he strove to apply this fact to his +father's actions. + +"He waited until after the convention." + +"Exactly," said Mr. Flint, catching the implied accusation in Austen's +tone; "and needless to say, if I had been able to prevent his going, in +view of what happened on Monday night, I should have done so. As you +know, after his--accident, he went to the capital without informing any +one." + +"As a matter of honour," said Austen. + +Mr. Flint looked up from the papers, and regarded him narrowly, for the +tone in which this was spoken did not escape the president of the +Northeastern. He saw, in fact, that at the outset he had put a weapon +into Austen's hands. Hilary's resignation was a vindication of Austen's +attitude, an acknowledgment that the business and political practices of +his life had been wrong. + +What Austen really felt, when he had grasped the significance of that +fact, was relief--gratitude. A wave of renewed affection for his father +swept over him, of affection and pity and admiration, and for the instant +he forgot Mr. Flint. + +"As a matter of honour," Mr. Flint repeated. "Knowing he was ill, Mr. +Vane insisted upon going to that convention, even at the risk of his +life. It is a fitting close to a splendid career, and one that will not +soon be forgotten." + +Austen merely looked at Mr. Flint, who may have found the glance a trifle +disconcerting, for he turned to the papers again. + +"I repeat," he went on presently, "that this illness of Mr. Vane's is not +only a great loss to the Northeastern system, but a great blow to me +personally. I have been associated with him closely for more than a +quarter of a century, and I have never seen a lawyer of greater +integrity, clear-headedness, and sanity of view. He saw things as they +were, and he did as much to build up the business interests and the +prosperity of this State as any man I know of. He was true to his word, +and true to his friends." + +Still Austen did not reply. He continued to look at Mr. Flint, and Mr. +Flint continued to check the papers only more slowly. He had nearly +finished the first box. + +"A wave of political insanity, to put it mildly, seems to be sweeping +over this country," said the president of the Northeastern. "Men who +would paralyze and destroy the initiative of private enterprise, men who +themselves are ambitious, and either incapable or unsuccessful, have +sprung up; writers who have no conscience, whose one idea is to make +money out of a passing craze against honest capital, have aided them. +Disappointed and dangerous politicians who merely desire office and power +have lifted their voices in the hue and cry to fool the honest voter. I +am glad to say I believe that the worst of this madness and rascality is +over; that the common sense of the people of this country is too great to +be swept away by the methods of these self-seekers; that the ordinary man +is beginning to see that his bread and butter depends on the brain of the +officers who are trying honestly to conduct great enterprises for the +benefit of the average citizen. + +"We did not expect to escape in this State," Mr. Flint went on, raising +his head and meeting Austen's look; "the disease was too prevalent and +too catching for the weak-minded. We had our self-seekers who attempted +to bring ruin upon an institution which has done more for our population +than any other. I do not hesitate to speak of the Northeastern Railroads +as an institution, and as an institution which has been as +conscientiously and conservatively conducted as any in the country, and +with as scrupulous a regard for the welfare of all. Hilary Vane, as you +doubtless know, was largely responsible for this. My attention, as +president of all the roads, has been divided. Hilary Vane guarded the +interests in this State, and no man could have guarded them better. He +well deserves the thanks of future generations for the uncompromising +fight he made against such men and such methods. It has broken him down +at a time of life when he has earned repose, but he has the satisfaction +of knowing that he has won the battle for conservative American +principles, and that he has nominated a governor worthy of the traditions +of the State." + +And Mr. Flint started checking off the papers again. Had the occasion +been less serious, Austen could have smiled at Mr. Flint's ruse--so +characteristic of the tactics of the president of the Northeastern--of +putting him into a position where criticism of the Northeastern and its +practices would be criticism of his own father. As it was, he only set +his jaw more firmly, an expression indicative of contempt for such +tactics. He had not come there to be lectured out of the "Book of +Arguments" on the divine right of railroads to govern, but to see that +certain papers were delivered in safety. + +Had his purpose been deliberately to enter into a contest with Mr. Flint, +Austen could not have planned the early part of it any better than by +pursuing this policy of silence. To a man of Mr. Flint's temperament and +training, it was impossible to have such an opponent within reach without +attempting to hector him into an acknowledgment of the weakness of his +position. Further than this, Austen had touched him too often on the +quick merely to be considered in the light of a young man who held +opposite and unfortunate views--although it was Mr. Flint's endeavour to +put him in this light. The list of injuries was too fresh in Mr. Flint's +mind--even that last conversation with Victoria, in which she had made it +plain that her sympathies were with Austen. + +But with an opponent who would not be led into ambush, who had the +strength to hold his fire under provocation, it was no easy matter to +maintain a height of conscious, matter-of-fact rectitude and implied +reproof. Austen's silence, Austen's attitude, declared louder than words +the contempt for such manoeuvres of a man who knows he is in the right +--and knows that his adversary knows it. It was this silence and this +attitude which proclaimed itself that angered Mr. Flint, yet made him +warily conceal his anger and change his attack. + +"It is some years since we met, Mr. Vane," he remarked presently. + +Austen's face relaxed into something of a smile. + +"Four, I think," he answered. + +"You hadn't long been back from that Western experience. Well, your +father has one decided consolation; you have fulfilled his hope that you +would settle down here and practise in the State. And I hear that you are +fast forging to the front. You are counsel for the Gaylord Company, I +believe." + +"The result of an unfortunate accident," said Austen; "Mr. Hammer died." + +"And on the occasion when you did me the honour to call on me," said Mr. +Flint, "if I remember rightly, you expressed some rather radical views +--for the son of Hilary Vane." + +"For the son of Hilary Vane," Austen agreed, with a smile. + +Mr. Flint ignored the implication in the repetition. + +"Thinking as mach as I do of Mr. Vane, I confess that your views at that +time rather disturbed me. It is a matter of relief to learn that you have +refused to lend yourself to the schemes of men like our neighbour, Mr. +Humphrey Crewe, of Leith." + +"Honesty compels me to admit," answered Austen, "that I did not refrain +on Mr. Crewe's account." + +"Although," said Mr. Flint, drumming on the table, "there was some talk +that you were to be brought forward as a dark horse in the convention, +and as a candidate unfriendly to the interests of the Northeastern +Railroads, I am glad you did not consent to be put in any such position. +I perceive that a young man of your ability and--popularity, a Vane of +Camden Street, must inevitably become a force in this State. And as a +force, you must retain the conservatism of the Vanes--the traditional +conservatism of the State. The Northeastern Railroads will continue to be +a very large factor in the life of the people after you and I are gone, +Mr. Vane. You will have to live, as it were, with that corporation, and +help to preserve it. We shall have to work together, perhaps, to that +end--who can say? I repeat, I am glad that your good sense led you to +refrain from coming as a candidate before that Convention. There is time +enough in the future, and you could not have been nominated." + +"On the contrary," answered Austen, quietly, "I could have been +nominated." + +Mr. Flint smiled knowingly--but with an effort. What a relief it would +have been to him to charge horse and foot, to forget that he was a +railroad president dealing with a potential power. + +"Do you honestly believe that?" he asked. + +"I am not accustomed to dissemble my beliefs," said Austen, gravely. "The +fact that my father had faith enough in me to count with certainty on my +refusal to go before the convention enabled him to win the nomination for +the candidate of your railroads." + +Mr. Flint continued to smile, but into his eyes had crept a gleam of +anger. + +"It is easy to say such things--after the convention," he remarked. + +"And it would have been impossible to say their before," Austen responded +instantly, with a light in his own eyes. "My nomination was the only +disturbing factor in the situation for you and the politicians who had +your interests in hand, and it was as inevitable as night and day that +the forces of the candidates who represented the two wings of the machine +of the Northeastern Railroads should have united against Mr. Crewe. I +want to say to you frankly that if my father had not been the counsel for +your corporation, and responsible for its political success, or if he +could have resigned with honour before the convention, I should not have +refused to let my name go in. After all," he added, in a lower tone, and +with a slight gesture characteristic of him when a subject was +distasteful, "it doesn't matter who is elected governor this autumn." + +"What?" cried Mr. Flint, surprised out of his attitude as much by +Austen's manner as by Austen's words. + +"It doesn't matter," said Austen, "whether the Northeastern Railroads +have succeeded this time in nominating and electing a governor to whom +they can dictate, and who will reappoint railroad commissioners and other +State officials in their interests. The practices by which you have +controlled this State, Mr. Flint, and elected governors and councillors +and State and national senators are doomed. However necessary these +practices may have been from your point of view, they violated every +principle of free government, and were they to continue, the nation to +which we belong would inevitably decay and become the scorn of the world. +Those practices depended for their success on one condition,--which in +itself is the most serious of ills in a republic,--the ignorance and +disregard of the voter. You have but to read the signs of the times to +see clearly that the day of such conditions is past, to see that the +citizens of this State and this country are thinking for themselves, as +they should; are alive to the dangers and determined to avert it. You may +succeed in electing one more governor and one more senate, or two, before +the people are able to destroy the machinery you have built up and repeal +the laws you have made to sustain it. I repeat, it doesn't matter in the +long run. The era of political domination by a corporation, and mainly +for the benefit of a corporation, is over." + +Mr. Flint had been drumming on the desk, his face growing a darker red as +Austen proceeded: Never, since he had become president of the +Northeastern Railroads, had any man said such things to his face. And the +fact that Austen Vane had seemingly not spoken in wrath, although +forcefully enough to compel him to listen, had increased Mr. Flint's +anger. Austen apparently cared very little for him or his opinions in +comparison with his own estimate of right and wrong. + +"It seems," said Mr. Flint, "that you have grown more radical since your +last visit." + +"If it be radical to refuse to accept a pass from a railroad to bind my +liberty of action as an attorney and a citizen, then I am radical," +replied Austen. "If it be radical to maintain that the elected +representatives of the people should not receive passes, or be beholden +to any man or any corporation, I acknowledge the term. If it be radical +to declare that these representatives should be elected without +interference, and while in office should do exact justice to the body of +citizens on the one hand and the corporations on the other, I declare +myself a radical. But my radicalism goes back behind the establishment of +railroads, Mr. Flint, back to the foundation of this government, to the +idea from which it sprang." + +Mr. Flint smiled again. + +"We have changed materially since then," he said. "I am afraid such a +utopian state of affairs, beautiful as it is, will not work in the +twentieth century. It is a commercial age, and the interests which are +the bulwark of the country's strength must be protected." + +"Yes," said Austen, "we have changed materially. The mistake you make, +and men like you, is the stress which you lay on that word material. Are +there no such things as moral interests, Mr. Flint? And are they not +quite as important in government, if not more important, than material +interests? Surely, we cannot have commercial and political stability +without cominertial and political honour! if, as a nation, we lose sight +of the ideals which have carried us so far, which have so greatly +modified the conditions of other peoples than ourselves, we shall perish +as a force in the world. And if this government proves a failure, how +long do you think the material interests of which you are so solicitous +will endure? Or do you care whether they endure beyond your lifetime? +Perhaps not. But it is a matter of importance, not only to the nation, +but to the world, whether or not the moral idea of the United States of +America is perpetuated, I assure you." + +"I begin to fear, Mr. Vane," said the president of the Northeastern, +"that you have missed your vocation. Suppose I were to grant you, for the +sake of argument, that the Northeastern Railroads, being the largest +taxpayers in this State, have taken an interest in seeing that +conservative men fill responsible offices. Suppose such to be the case, +and we abruptly cease--to take such an interest. What then? Are we not at +the mercy of any and all unscrupulous men who build up a power of their +own, and start again the blackmail of the old days?" + +"You have put the case mildly," said Austen, and ingeniously. "As a +matter of fact, Mr. Flint, you know as well as I do that for years you +have governed this State absolutely, for the purpose of keeping down your +taxes, avoiding unnecessary improvements for safety and comfort, and +paying high dividends--" + +"Perhaps you realize that in depicting these criminal operations so +graphically," cried Mr. Flint, interrupting, "you are involving the +reputation of one of the best citizens the State ever had--your own +father." + +Austen Vane leaned forward across the desk, and even Mr. Flint (if the +truth were known) recoiled a little before the anger he had aroused. It +shot forth from Austen's eyes, proclaimed itself in the squareness of the +face, and vibrated in every word he spoke. + +"Mr. Flint," he said, "I refrain from comment upon your methods of +argument. There were many years in which my father believed the practices +which he followed in behalf of your railroad to be necessary--and hence +justified. And I have given you the credit of holding the same belief. +Public opinion would not, perhaps, at that time have protected your +property from political blackmail. I merely wished you to know, Mr. +Flint, that there is no use in attempting to deceive me in regard to the +true colour of those practices. It is perhaps useless for me to add that +in my opinion you understand as well as I do the real reason for Mr. +Vane's resignation and illness. Once he became convinced that the +practices were wrong, he could no longer continue them without violating +his conscience. He kept his word to you--at the risk of his life, and, as +his son, I take a greater pride in him to-day than I ever have before." + +Austen got to his feet. He was formidable even to Mr. Flint, who had met +many formidable, and angry men in his time--although not of this type. +Perhaps--who can say?--he was the in the mind of the president +unconscious embodiment of the Northeastern of the new forces which had +arisen against him,--forces which he knew in his secret soul he could not +combat, because they were the irresistible forces of things not material. +All his life he had met and successfully conquered forces of another +kind, and put down with a strong hand merely physical encroachments. + +Mr. Flint's nature was not an introspective one, and if he had tried, he +could not have accounted for his feelings. He was angry--that was +certain. But he measured the six feet and more of Austen Vane with his +eye, and in spite of himself experienced the compelled admiration of one +fighting man for another. A thought, which had made itself vaguely felt +at intervals in the past half hour, shot suddenly and poignantly through +Mr. Flint's mind what if this young man, who dared in spite of every +interest to oppose him, should in the apparently inevitable trend of +things, become...? + +Mr. Flint rose and went to the window, where he stood silent for a space, +looking out, played upon by unwonted conflicting thoughts and emotions. +At length, with a characteristic snap of the fingers, he turned abruptly. +Austen Vane was still standing beside the desk. His face was still +square, determined, but Mr. Flint noted curiously that the anger was gone +from his eyes, and that another--although equally human--expression had +taken its place,--a more disturbing expression, to Mr. Flint. + +"It appears, Mr. Vane," he said, gathering up the papers and placing them +in the boxes, "it appears that we are able to agree upon one point, at +least--Hilary Vane." + +"Mr. Flint," said Austen, "I did not come up here with any thought of +arguing with you, of intruding any ideas--I may hold, but you have +yourself asked me one question which I feel bound to answer to the best +of my ability before I go. You have asked me what, in my opinion, would +happen if you ceased--as you express it--to take an interest in the +political, affairs of this State. + +"I believe, as firmly as I stand here, that the public opinion which +exists to-day would protect your property, and I base that belief on the +good sense of the average American voter. The public would protect you +not only in its own interests, but from an inherent sense of fair play. +On the other hand, if you persist in a course of political manipulation +which is not only obsolete but wrong, you will magnify the just charges +against you, and the just wrath; you will put ammunition into the hands +of the agitators you rightly condemn. The stockholders of your +corporation, perhaps, are bound to suffer some from the fact that you +have taken its life-blood to pay dividends, and the public will demand +that it be built up into a normal and healthy condition. On the other +hand, it could not have gone on as it was. But the corporation will +suffer much more if a delayed justice is turned into vengeance. + +"You ask me what I could do. I should recognize, frankly, the new +conditions, and declare as frankly what the old ones were, and why such +methods of defence as you adopted were necessary and justified. I should +announce, openly, that from this day onward the Northeastern Railroads +depended for fair play on an enlightened public--and I think your trust +would be well founded, and your course vindicated. I should declare, from +this day onward, that the issue of political passes, newspaper passes, +and all other subterfuges would be stopped, and that all political +hirelings would be dismissed. I should appeal to the people of this State +to raise up political leaders who would say to the corporations, 'We will +protect you from injustice if you will come before the elected +representatives of the people, openly, and say what you want and why you +want it.' By such a course you would have, in a day, the affection of the +people instead of their distrust. They would rally to your defence. And, +more than that, you would have done a service for American government the +value of which cannot well be estimated." + +Mr. Flint rang the bell on his desk, and his secretary appeared. + +"Put these in my private safe, Mr. Freeman," he said. + +Mr. Freeman took the boxes, glanced curiously at Austen, and went out. It +was the same secretary, Austen recalled, who had congratulated him four +years before. Then Mr. Flint laid his hand deliberately on the desk, and +smiled slightly as he turned to Austen. + +"If you had run a railroad as long as I have, Mr. Vane," he said, "I do +you the credit of thinking that you would have intelligence enough to +grasp other factors which your present opportunities for observation have +not permitted you to perceive. Nevertheless, I am much obliged to you for +your opinion, and I value the--frankness in which it was given. And I +shall hope to hear good news of your father. Remember me to him, and tell +him how deeply I feel his affliction. I shall call again in a day or +two." + +Austen took up his hat. + +"Good day, Mr. Flint," he said; "I will tell him." + +By the time he had reached the door, Mr. Flint had gone back to the +window once more, and appeared to have forgotten his presence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE VALE OF THE BLUE + +Austen himself could not well have defined his mental state as he made +his way through the big rooms towards the door, but he was aware of one +main desire--to escape from Fairview. With the odours of the flowers in +the tall silver vases on the piano--her piano!--the spirit of desire +which had so long possessed him, waking and sleeping, returned,--returned +to torture him now with greater skill amidst these her possessions; her +volume of Chopin on the rack, bound in red leather and stamped with her +initials, which compelled his glance as he passed, and brought vivid to +his memory the night he had stood in the snow and heard her playing. So, +he told himself, it must always be, for him to stand in the snow +listening. + +He reached the hall, with a vast relief perceived that it was empty, and +opened the door and went out. Strange that he should note, first of all, +as he parsed a moment at the top of the steps, that the very day had +changed. The wind had fallen; the sun, well on his course towards the rim +of western hills, poured the golden light of autumn over field and +forest, while Sawanec was already in the blue shadow; the expectant +stillness of autumn reigned, and all unconsciously Austen's blood was +quickened though a quickening of pain. + +The surprise of the instant over, he noticed that his horse was gone, +--had evidently been taken to the stables. And rather than ring the bell +and wait in the mood in which he found himself, he took the path through +the shrubbery from which he had seen the groom emerge. + +It turned beyond the corner of the house, descended a flight of stone +steps, and turned again. + +They stood gazing each at the other for a space of time not to be +computed before either spoke, and the sense of unreality which comes with +a sudden fulfilment of intense desire--or dread--was upon Austen. Could +this indeed be her figure, and this her face on which he watched the +colour rise (so he remembered afterwards) like the slow flood of day? +Were there so many Victorias, that a new one--and a strange one--should +confront him at every meeting? And, even while he looked, this Victoria, +too,--one who had been near him and departed,--was surveying him now from +an unapproachable height of self-possession and calm. She held out her +hand, and he took it, scarce knowing--that it was hers. + +"How do you do, Mr. Vane?" she said; "I did not expect to meet you here." + +"I was searching for the stable, to get my horse," he answered lamely. + +"And your father?" she asked quickly; "I hope he is not--worse." + +It was thus she supplied him, quite naturally, with an excuse for being +at Fairview. And yet her solicitude for Hilary was wholly unaffected. + +"Dr. Harmon, who came from New York, has been more encouraging than I had +dared to hope," said Austen. "And, by the way, Mr. Vane believes that you +had a share in the fruit and flowers which Mr. Flint so kindly brought. +If--he had known that I were to see you, I am sure he would have wished +me to thank you." + +Victoria turned, and tore a leaf from the spiraea. + +"I will show you where the stables are," she said; "the path divides a +little farther on--and you might find yourself in the kitchen." + +Austen smiled, and as she went on slowly, he followed her, the path not +being wide enough for them to walk abreast, his eyes caressing the stray +hairs that clustered about her neck and caught the light. It seemed so +real, and yet so unrealizable, that he should be here with her. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that I did not express my gratitude as I should +have done the evening you were good enough to come up to Jabe Jenney's." + +He saw her colour rise again, but she did not pause. + +"Please don't say anything about it, Mr. Vane. Of course I understand how +you felt," she cried. + +"Neither my father nor myself will forget that service," said Austen. + +"It was nothing," answered Victoria, in a low voice. "Or, rather, it was +something I shall always be glad that I did not miss. I have seen Mr. +Vane all my life, but I never=-never really knew him until that day. I +have come to the conclusion," she added, in a lighter tone, "that the +young are not always the best judges of the old. There," she added, "is +the path that goes to the kitchen, which you probably would have taken." + +He laughed. Past and future were blotted out, and he lived only in the +present. He could think of nothing but that she was here beside him. +Afterwards, cataclysms might come and welcome. + +"Isn't there another place," he asked, "where I might lose my way?" + +She turned and gave him one of the swift, searching looks he recalled so +well: a look the meaning of which he could not declare, save that she +seemed vainly striving to fathom something in him--as though he were not +fathomable! He thought she smiled a little as she took the left-hand +path. + +"You will remember me to your father?" she said. "I hope he is not +suffering." + +"He is not suffering," Austen replied. "Perhaps--if it were not too much +to ask--perhaps you might come to see him, sometime? I can think of +nothing that would give him greater pleasure." + +"I will come--sometime," she answered. "I am going away to-morrow, but--" + +"Away?" he repeated, in dismay. Now that he was beside her, all +unconsciously the dominating male spirit which was so strong in him, and +which moves not woman alone, but the world, was asserting itself. For the +moment he was the only man, and she the only woman, in the universe. + +"I am going on a promised visit to a friend of mine." + +"For how long?" he demanded. + +"I don't know, said Victoria, calmly; probably until she gets tired of +me. And there," she added, "are the stables, where no doubt you will find +your faithful Pepper." + +They had come out upon an elevation above the hard service drive, and +across it, below them, was the coach house with its clock-tower and +weather-vane, and its two wings, enclosing a paved court where a +whistling stable-boy was washing a carriage. Austen regarded this scene +an instant, and glanced back at her profile. It was expressionless. + +"Might I not linger--a few minutes?" he asked. + +Her lips parted slightly in a smile, and she turned her head. How +wonderfully, he thought, it was poised upon her shoulders. + +"I haven't been very hospitable, have I?" she said. But then, you seemed +in such a hurry to go, didn't you? You were walking so fast when I met +you that you quite frightened me." + +"Was I?" asked Austen, in surprise. + +She laughed. + +"You looked as if you were ready to charge somebody. But this isn't a +very nice place--to linger, and if you really will stay awhile," said +Victoria, "we might walk over to the dairy, where that model protege of +yours, Eben Fitch, whom you once threatened with corporal chastisement if +he fell from grace, is engaged. I know he will be glad to see you." + +Austen laughed as he caught up with her. She was already halfway across +the road. + +"Do you always beat people if they do wrong?" she asked. + +"It was Eben who requested it, if I remember rightly," he said. +"Fortunately, the trial has not yet arrived. Your methods," he added, +"seem to be more successful with Eben." + +They went down the grassy slope with its groups of half-grown trees; +through an orchard shot with slanting, yellow sunlight,--the golden +fruit, harvested by the morning winds, littering the ground; and then by +a gate into a dimpled, emerald pasture slope where the Guernseys were +feeding along a water run. They spoke of trivial things that found no +place in Austen's memory, and at times, upon one pretext or another, he +fell behind a little that he might feast his eyes upon her. + +Eben was not at the dairy, and Austen betraying no undue curiosity as to +his whereabouts, they walked on up the slopes, and still upward towards +the crest of the range of hills that marked the course of the Blue. He +did not allow his mind to dwell upon this new footing they were on, but +clung to it. Before, in those delicious moments with her, seemingly +pilfered from the angry gods, the sense of intimacy had been deep; deep, +because robbing the gods together, they had shared the feeling of guilt, +had known that retribution would coma. And now the gods had locked their +treasure-chest, although themselves powerless to redeem from him the +memory of what he had gained. Nor could they, apparently, deprive him of +the vision of her in the fields and woods beside him, though transformed +by their magic into a new Victoria, keeping him lightly and easily at a +distance. + +Scattering the sheep that flecked the velvet turf of the uplands, they +stood at length on the granite crown of the crest itself. Far below them +wound the Blue into its vale of sapphire shadows, with its hillsides of +the mystic fabric of the backgrounds of the masters of the Renaissance. +For a while they stood in silence under the spell of the scene's +enchantment, and then Victoria seated herself on the rock, and he dropped +to a place at her side. + +"I thought you would like the view," she said; "but perhaps you have been +here, perhaps I am taking you to one of your own possessions." + +He had flung his hat upon the rock, and she glanced at his serious, +sunburned face. His eyes were still fixed, contemplatively, on the Yale +of the Blue, but he turned to her with a smile. + +"It has become yours by right of conquest," he answered. + +She did not reply to that. The immobility of her face, save for the one +look she had flashed upon him, surprised and puzzled him more and more +--the world--old, indefinable, eternal feminine quality of the Spring. + +"So you refused to be governor? she said presently,--surprising him +again. + +"It scarcely came to that," he replied. + +"What did it come to?" she demanded. + +He hesitated. + +"I had to go down to the capital, on my father's account, but I did not +go to the convention. I stayed," he said slowly, "at the little cottage +across from the Duncan house where--you were last winter." He paused, but +she gave no sign. "Tom Gaylord came up there late in the afternoon, and +wanted me to be a candidate." + +"And you refused?" + +"Yes." + +"But you could have been nominated!" + +"Yes," he admitted; "it is probable. The conditions were chaotic." + +"Are you sure you have done right?" she asked. "It has always seemed to +me from what I know and have heard of you that you were made for +positions of trust. You would have been a better governor than the man +they have nominated." + +His expression became set. + +"I am sure I have done right," he answered deliberately. "It doesn't make +any difference who is governor this time." + +"Doesn't make any difference!" she exclaimed. + +"No," he said. "Things have changed--the people have changed. The old +method of politics, which was wrong, although it had some justification +in conditions, has gone out. A new and more desirable state of affairs +has come. I am at liberty to say this much to you now," he added, fixing +his glance upon her, "because my father has resigned as counsel for the +Northeastern, and I have just had a talk with--Mr. Flint." + +"You have seen my father?" she asked, in a low voice, and her face was +averted. + +"Yes," he answered. + +"You--did not agree," she said quickly. + +His blood beat higher at the question and the manner of her asking it, +but he felt that he must answer it honestly, unequivocally, whatever the +cost. + +"No, we did not agree. It is only fair to tell you that we differed +--vitally. On the other hand, it is just that you should know that we did +not part in anger, but, I think, with a mutual respect." + +She drew breath. + +"I knew," she said, "I knew if he could but talk to you he would +understand that you were sincere--and you have proved it. I am glad--I am +glad that you saw him." The quality of the sunlight changed, the very +hills leaped, and the river sparkled. Could she care? Why did she wish +her father to know that he was sincere. + +"You are glad that I saw him!" he repeated. + +But she met his glance steadily. + +"My father has so little faith in human nature," she answered. "He has a +faculty of doubting the honesty of his opponents--I suppose because so +many of them have been dishonest. And--I believe in my friends," she +added, smiling. "Isn't it natural that I should wish to have my judgment +vindicated?" + +He got to his feet and walked slowly to the far edge of the rock, where +he stood for a while, seemingly gazing off across the spaces to Sawanec. +It was like him, thus to question the immutable. Victoria sat motionless, +but her eyes followed irresistibly the lines of power in the tall figure +against the sky--the breadth of shoulder and slimness of hip and length +of limb typical of the men who had conquered and held this land for their +descendants. Suddenly, with a characteristic movement of determination; +he swung about and came towards her, and at the same instant she rose. + +"Don't you think we should be going back?" she said. + +Rut he seemed not to hear her. + +"May I ask you something?" he said. + +"That depends," she answered. + +"Are you going to marry Mr. Rangely?" + +"No," she said, and turned away. "Why did you think that?" + +He quivered. + +"Victoria!" + +She looked up at him, swiftly, half revealed, her eyes like stars +surprised by the flush of dawn in her cheeks. Hope quickened at the +vision of hope, the seats of judgment themselves were filled with +radiance, and rumour, cowered and fled like the spirit of night. He could +only gaze, enraptured. + +"Yes?" she answered. + +His voice was firm but low, yet vibrant with sincerity, with the vast +store of feeling, of compelling magnetism that was in the man and moved +in spite of themselves those who knew him. His words Victoria remembered +afterwards--all of them; but it was to the call of the voice she +responded. His was the fibre which grows stronger in times of crisis. +Sure of himself, proud of the love which he declared, he spoke as a man +who has earned that for which he prays,--simply and with dignity. + +"I love you," he said; "I have known it since I have known you, but you +must see why I could not tell you so. It was very hard, for there were +times when I led myself to believe that you might come to love me. There +were times when I should have gone away if I hadn't made a promise to +stay in Ripton. I ask you to marry me, because I--know that I shall love +you as long as I live. I can give you this, at least, and I can promise +to protect and cherish you. I cannot give you that to which you have been +accustomed all your life, that which you have here at Fairview, but I +shouldn't say this to you if I believed that you cared for them above +--other things." + +"Oh, Austen!" she cried, "I do not--I--do not! They would be hateful to +me--without you. I would rather live with you--at Jabe Jenney's," and her +voice caught in an exquisite note between laughter and tears. "I love +you, do you understand, you! Oh, how could you ever have doubted it? How +could you? What you believe, I believe. And, Austen, I have been so +unhappy for three days." + +He never knew whether, as the most precious of graces ever conferred upon +man, with a womanly gesture she had raised her arms and laid her hands +upon his shoulders before he drew her to him and kissed her face, that +vied in colour with the coming glow in the western sky. Above the prying +eyes of men, above the world itself, he held her, striving to realize +some little of the vast joy of this possession, and failing. And at last +she drew away from him, gently, that she might look searchingly into his +face again, and shook her head slowly. + +"And you were going away," she said, "without a word I thought--you +didn't care. How could I have known that you were just--stupid?" + +His eyes lighted with humour and tenderness. + +"How long have you cared, Victoria?" he asked. + +She became thoughtful. + +"Always, I think," she answered; "only I didn't know it. I think I loved +you even before I saw you." + +"Before you saw me!" + +"I think it began," said Victoria, "when I learned that you had shot Mr. +Blodgett--only I hope you will never do such a thing again. And you will +please try to remember," she added, after a moment, "that I am neither +Eben Fitch nor your friend, Tom Gaylord." + +Sunset found them seated on the rock, with the waters of the river turned +to wine at the miracle in the sky their miracle. At times their eyes +wandered to the mountain, which seemed to regard them from a discreet +distance--with a kindly and protecting majesty. + +"And you promised," said Victoria, "to take me up there. When will you do +it?" + +"I thought you were going away," he replied. + +"Unforeseen circumstances," she answered, "have compelled me to change my +plans." + +"Then we will go tomorrow," he said. + +"To the Delectable Land," said Victoria, dreamily; "your land, where we +shall be--benevolent despots. Austen?" + +"Yes?" He had not ceased to thrill at the sound of his name upon her +lips. + +"Do you think," she asked, glancing at him, "do you think you have money +enough to go abroad--just for a little while?" + +He laughed joyously. + +"I don't know," he said, "but I shall make it a point to examine my +bank-account to-night. I haven't done so--for some time." + +"We will go to Venice, and drift about in a gondola on one of those gray +days when the haze comes in from the Adriatic and touches the city with +the magic of the past. Sometimes I like the gray days best--when I am +happy. And then," she added, regarding him critically, "although you are +very near perfection, there are some things you ought to see and learn to +make your education complete. I will take you to all the queer places I +love. When you are ambassador to France, you know, it would be +humiliating to have to have an interpreter, wouldn't it?" + +"What's the use of both of us knowing the language?" he demanded. + +"I'm afraid we shall be--too happy," she sighed, presently. + +"Too happy!" he repeated. + +"I sometimes wonder," she said, "whether happiness and achievement go +together. And yet--I feel sure that you will achieve." + +"To please you, Victoria," he answered, "I think I should almost be +willing to try." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +P.S. + +By request of one who has read thus far, and is still curious. + +Yes, and another who, in spite of himself, has fallen in love with +Victoria and would like to linger a while longer, even though it were +with the paltry excuse of discussing that world-old question of hers--Can +sublime happiness and achievement go together? Novels on the problem of +sex nowadays often begin with marriages, but rarely discuss the happy +ones; and many a woman is forced to sit wistfully at home while her +companion soars. + + "Yet may I look with heart unshook + On blow brought home or missed-- + Yet may I hear with equal ear + The clarions down the List; + Yet set my lance above mischance + And ride the barriere-- + Oh, hit or miss, how little 'tis, + My Lady is not there!" + +A verse, in this connection, which may be a perversion of Mr. Kipling's +meaning, but not so far from it, after all. And yet, would the eagle +attempt the great flights if contentment were on the plain? Find the +mainspring of achievement, and you hold in your hand the secret of the +world's mechanism. Some aver that it is woman. + +Do the gods ever confer the rarest of gifts upon him to whom they have +given pinions? Do they mate him, ever, with another who soars as high as +he, who circles higher that he may circle higher still? Who can answer? +Must those who soar be condemned to eternal loneliness, and was it a +longing they did not comprehend which bade them stretch their wings +toward the sun? Who can say? + +Alas, we cannot write of the future of Austen and Victoria Vane! We can +only surmise, and hope, and pray,--yes, and believe. Romance walks with +parted lips and head raised to the sky; and let us follow her, because +thereby our eyes are raised with hers. We must believe, or perish. + +Postscripts are not fashionable. The satiated theatre goer leaves before +the end of the play, and has worked out the problem for himself long +before the end of the last act. Sentiment is not supposed to exist in the +orchestra seats. But above (in many senses) is the gallery, from whence +an excited voice cries out when the sleeper returns to life, "It's Rip +Van Winkle!" The gallery, where are the human passions which make this +world our world; the gallery, played upon by anger, vengeance, derision, +triumph, hate, and love; the gallery, which lingers and applauds long +after the fifth curtain, and then goes reluctantly home--to dream. And he +who scorns the gallery is no artist, for there lives the soul of art. We +raise our eyes to it, and to it we dedicate this our play;--and for it we +lift the curtain once more after those in the orchestra have departed. + +It is obviously impossible, in a few words, to depict the excitement in +Ripton, in Leith, in the State at large, when it became known that the +daughter of Mr. Flint was to marry Austen Vane,--a fitting if unexpected +climax to a drama. How would Mr. Flint take it? Mr. Flint, it may be +said, took it philosophically; and when Austen went up to see him upon +this matter, he shook hands with his future son-in-law,--and they agreed +to disagree. And beyond this it is safe to say that Mr. Flint was +relieved; for in his secret soul he had for many years entertained a +dread that Victoria might marry a foreigner. He had this consolation at +any rate. + +His wife denied herself for a day to her most intimate friends,--for it +was she who had entertained visions of a title; and it was characteristic +of the Rose of Sharon that she knew nothing of the Vanes beyond the name. +The discovery that the Austens were the oldest family in the State was in +the nature of a balm; and henceforth, in speaking of Austen, she never +failed to mention the fact that his great-grandfather was Minister to +Spain in the '30's,--a period when her own was engaged in a far different +calling. + +And Hilary Vane received the news with a grim satisfaction, Dr. Tredway +believing that it had done more for him than any medicine or specialists. +And when, one warm October day, Victoria herself came and sat beside the +canopied bed, her conquest was complete: he surrendered to her as he had +never before surrendered to man or woman or child, and the desire to live +surged back into his heart,--the desire to live for Austen and Victoria. +It became her custom to drive to Ripton in the autumn mornings and to sit +by the hour reading to Hilary in the mellow sunlight in the lee of the +house, near Sarah Austen's little garden. Yes, Victoria believed she had +developed in him a taste for reading; although he would have listened to +Emerson from her lips. + +And sometimes, when she paused after one of his long silences to glance +at him, she would see his eyes fixed, with a strange rapt look, on the +garden or the dim lavender form of Sawanec through the haze, and knew +that he was thinking of a priceless thing which he had once possessed, +and missed. Then Victoria would close the volume, and fall to dreaming, +too. + +What was happiness? Was it contentment? If it were, it might endure, +--contentment being passive. But could active, aggressive, exultant joy +exist for a lifetime, jealous of its least prerogative, perpetually +watchful for its least abatement, singing unending anthems on its +conquest of the world? The very intensity of her feelings at such times +sobered Victoria--alarmed her. Was not perfection at war with the world's +scheme, and did not achievement spring from a void? + +But when Austen appeared, with Pepper, to drive her home to Fairview, his +presence never failed to revive the fierce faith that it was his destiny +to make the world better, and hers to help him. Wondrous afternoons they +spent together in that stillest and most mysterious of seasons in the +hill country--autumn! Autumn and happiness! Happiness as shameless as the +flaunting scarlet maples on the slopes, defiant of the dying year of the +future, shadowy and unreal as the hills before them in the haze. Once, +after a long silence, she started from a revery with the sudden +consciousness of his look intent upon her, and turned with parted lips +and eyes which smiled at him out of troubled depths. + +"Dreaming, Victoria?" he said. + +"Yes," she answered simply, and was silent once more. He loved these +silences of hers,--hinting, as they did, of unexplored chambers in an +inexhaustible treasure-house which by some strange stroke of destiny was +his. And yet he felt at times the vague sadness of them, like the sadness +of the autumn, and longed to dispel it. + +"It is so wonderful," she went on presently, in a low voice, "it is so +wonderful I sometimes think that it must be like--like this; that it +cannot last. I have been wondering whether we shall be as happy when the +world discovers that you are great." + +He shook his head at her slowly, in mild reproof. + +"Isn't that borrowing trouble, Victoria?" he said. "I think you need have +no fear of finding the world as discerning as yourself." + +She searched his face. + +"Will you ever change?" she asked. + +"Yes," he said. "No man can stand such flattery as that without +deteriorating, I warn you. I shall become consequential, and pompous, and +altogether insupportable, and then you will leave me and never realize +that it has been all your fault." + +Victoria laughed. But there was a little tremor in her voice, and her +eyes still rested on his face. + +"But I am serious, Austen," she said. "I sometimes feel that, in the +future, we shall not always have many such days as these. It's selfish, +but I can't help it. There are so many things you will have to do without +me. Don't you ever think of that?" + +His eyes grew grave, and he reached out and took her hand in his. + +"I think, rather, of the trials life may bring, Victoria," he answered, +"of the hours when judgment halts, when the way is not clear. Do you +remember the last night you came to Jabe Jenney's? I stood in the road +long after you had gone, and a desolation such as I had never known came +over me. I went in at last, and opened a book to some verses I had been +reading, which I shall never forget. Shall I tell you what they were?" + +"Yes," she whispered. + +"They contain my answer to your question," he said. + + "What became of all the hopes, + Words and song and lute as well? + Say, this struck you 'When life gropes + Feebly for the path where fell + Light last on the evening slopes, + + "'One friend in that path shall be, + To secure my step from wrong; + One to count night day for me, + Patient through the watches long, + Serving most with none to see.'" + +"Victoria, can you guess who that friend is?" + +She pressed his hand and smiled at him, but her eyes were wet. + +"I have thought of it in that way, too, dear. But--but I did not know +that you had. I do not think that many men have that point of view, +Austen." + +"Many men," he answered, "have not the same reason to be thankful as I." + +There is a time, when the first sharp winds which fill the air with +flying leaves have come and gone, when the stillness has come again, and +the sunlight is tinged with a yellower gold, and the pastures are still a +vivid green, and the mountain stained with a deeper blue than any gem, +called Indian summer. And it was in this season that Victoria and Austen +were married, in a little church at Tunbridge, near Fairview, by the +bishop of the diocese, who was one of Victoria's dearest friends. Mr. +Thomas Gaylord (for whose benefit there were many rehearsals) was best +man, Miss Beatrice Chillingham maid of honour; and it was unanimously +declared by Victoria's bridesmaids, who came up from New York, that they +had fallen in love with the groom. + +How describe the wedding breakfast and festivities at Fairview House, on +a November day when young ladies could walk about the lawns in the +filmiest of gowns! how recount the guests and leave out no friends--for +none were left out! Mr. Jabe Jenney and Mrs. Jenney, who wept as she +embraced both bride and groom; and Euphrasia, in a new steel-coloured +silk and a state of absolute subjection and incredulous happiness. Would +that there were time to chronicle that most amazing of conquests of +Victoria over Euphrasia! And Mrs. Pomfret, who, remarkable as it may +seem, not only recognized Austen without her lorgnette, but quite +overwhelmed him with an unexpected cordiality, and declared her intention +of giving them a dinner in New York. + +"My dear," she said, after kissing Victoria twice, "he is most +distinguished-looking--I had no idea--and a person who grows upon one. +And I am told he is descended from Channing Austen, of whom I have often +heard my grandfather speak. Victoria, I always had the greatest +confidence in your judgment." + +Although Victoria had a memory (what woman worth her salt has not?), she +was far too happy to remind Mrs. Pomfret of certain former occasions, and +merely smiled in a manner which that lady declared to be enigmatic. She +maintained that she had never understood Victoria, and it was +characteristic of Mrs. Pomfret that her respect increased in direct +proportion to her lack of understanding. + +Mr. Thomas Gaylord, in a waistcoat which was the admiration of all who +beheld it, proposed the health of the bride; and proved indubitably that +the best of oratory has its origin in the heart and not in the mind,--for +Tom had never been regarded by his friends as a Demosthenes. He was +interrupted from time to time by shouts of laughter; certain episodes in +the early career of Mr. Austen Vane (in which, if Tom was to be believed, +he was an unwilling participant) were particularly appreciated. And +shortly after that, amidst a shower of miscellaneous articles and rice, +Mr. and Mrs. Vane took their departure. + +They drove through the yellow sunlight to Ripton, with lingering looks at +the hills which brought back memories of boys and sorrows, and in Hanover +Street bade good-by to Hilary Vane. A new and strange contentment shone +in his face as he took Victoria's hands in his, and they sat with him +until Euphrasia came. It was not until they were well on their way to New +York that they opened the letter he had given them, and discovered that +it contained something which would have enabled them to remain in Europe +the rest of their lives had they so chosen. + +We must leave them amongst the sunny ruins of Italy and Greece and +southern France, on a marvellous journey that was personally conducted by +Victoria. + +Mr. Crewe was unable to go to the wedding, having to attend a directors' +meeting of some importance in the West. He is still in politics, and +still hopeful; and he was married, not long afterwards, to Miss Alice +Pomfret. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Mr. Crewe's Career, Book III., by Winston Churchill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + + +This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + + + +[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the +file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an +entire meal of them. D.W.] + + +[NOTE: This author is a cousin of Sir Winston Churchill the Prime Minister +of England during World War II.] + + + + + +MR. CREWE'S CAREER + +By Winston Churchill + + + +BOOK 3. + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ST. GILES OF THE BLAMELESS LIFE + +The burden of the valley of vision: woe to the Honourable Adam B. Hunt! +Where is he all this time? On the porch of his home in Edmundton, +smoking cigars, little heeding the rising of the waters; receiving visits +from the Honourables Brush Bascom, Nat Billings, and Jacob Botcher, and +signing cheques to the order of these gentlemen for necessary expenses. +Be it known that the Honourable Adam was a man of substance in this +world's goods. To quote from Mr. Crewe's speech at Hull: "The +Northeastern Railroads confer--they do not pay, except in passes. Of +late years their books may be searched in vain for evidence of the use of +political funds. The man upon whom they choose to confer your +governorship is always able to pay the pipers." (Purposely put in the +plural.) + +Have the pipers warned the Honourable Adam of the rising tide against +him? Have they asked him to gird up his loins and hire halls and smite +the upstart hip and thigh? They have warned him, yes, that the expenses +may be a little greater than ordinary. But it is not for him to talk, or +to bestir himself in any unseemly manner, for the prize which he was to +have was in the nature of a gift. In vain did Mr. Crewe cry out to him +four times a week for his political beliefs, for a statement of what he +would do if he were elected governor. The Honourable Adam's dignified +answer was that he had always been a good Republican, and would die one. +Following a time-honoured custom, he refused to say anything, but it was +rumoured that he believed in the gold standard. + +It is August, and there is rejoicing in--Leith. There is no doubt now +that the campaign of the people progresses; no need any more for the true +accounts of the meetings, in large print, although these are still +continued. The reform rallies resemble matinees no longer, and two real +reporters accompany Mr. Crewe on his tours. Nay, the campaign of +education has already borne fruit, which the candidate did not hesitate +to mention in his talks Edmundton has more trains, Kingston has more +trains, and more cars. No need now to stand up for twenty miles on a hot +day; and more cars are building, and more engines; likewise some rates +have been lowered. And editors who declare that the Northeastern gives +the State a pretty good government have, like the guinea pigs, long been +suppressed. + +In these days were many councils at Fairview and in the offices of the +Honourable Hilary Vane at Ripton; councils behind closed doors, from +which the councillors emerged with smiling faces that men might not know +the misgivings in their hearts; councils, nevertheless, out of which +leaked rumours of dissension and recrimination conditions hitherto +unheard of. One post ran to meet another, and one messenger ran to meet +another; and it was even reported--though on doubtful authority--after +the rally in his town the Honourable Jacob Botcher had made the remark +that, under certain conditions, he might become a reformer. + +None of these upsetting rumours, however, were allowed by Mr. Bascom and +other gentlemen close to the Honourable Adam B. Hunt to reach that +candidate, who continued to smoke in tranquillity on the porch of his +home until the fifteenth day of August. At eight o'clock that morning +the postman brought him a letter marked personal, the handwriting on +which he recognized as belonging to the Honourable Hilary Vane. For some +reason, as he read, the sensations of the Honourable Adam were +disquieting; the contents of the letter, to say the least, were peculiar. +"To-morrow, at noon precisely, I shall be driving along the Broad Brook +road by the abandoned mill--three miles towards Edmundton from Hull. I +hope you will find it convenient to be there." + +These were the strange words the Honourable Hilary had written, and the +Honourable Adam knew that it was an order. At that very instant Mr. Hunt +had been reading in the Guardian the account of an overflow meeting in +Newcastle, by his opponent, in which Mr. Crewe had made some particularly +choice remarks about him; and had been cheered to the echo. The +Honourable Adam put the paper down, and walked up the street to talk to +Mr. Burrows, the postmaster whom, with the aid of Congressman Fairplay, +he had had appointed at Edmundton. The two racked their brains for +three hours; and Postmaster Burrows, who was the fortunate possessor of a +pass, offered to go down to Ripton in the interest of his liege lord and +see what was up. The Honourable Adam, however, decided that he could +wait for twenty-four hours. + +The morning of the sixteenth dawned clear, as beautiful a summer's day +for a drive as any man could wish. But the spirit of the Honourable Adam +did not respond to the weather, and he had certain vague forebodings as +his horse jogged toward Hull, although these did not take such a definite +shape as to make him feel a premonitory pull of his coat-tails. The +ruined mill beside the rushing stream was a picturesque spot, and the +figure of the Honourable Hilary Vane, seated on the old millstone, in the +green and gold shadows of a beech, gave an interesting touch of life to +the landscape. The Honourable Adam drew up and eyed his friend and +associate of many years before addressing him. + +"How are you, Hilary?" + +"Hitch your horse," said Mr. Vane. + +The Honourable Adam was some time in picking out a convenient tree. Then +he lighted a cigar, and approached Mr. Vane, and at length let himself +down, cautiously, on the millstone. Sitting on his porch had not +improved Mr. Hunt's figure. + +"This is kind of mysterious, ain't it, Hilary?" he remarked, with a tug +at his goatee. + +"I don't know but what it is," admitted Mr. Vane, who did not look as +though the coming episode were to give him unqualified joy. + +"Fine weather," remarked the Honourable Adam, with a brave attempt at +geniality. + +"The paper predicts rain to-morrow," said the Honourable Hilary. + +"You don't smoke, do you?" asked the Honourable Adam. + +"No," said the Honourable Hilary. + +A silence, except for the music of the brook over the broken dam. + +"Pretty place," said the Honourable Adam; "I kissed my wife here once-- +before I was married." + +This remark, although of interest, the Honourable Hilary evidently +thought did not require an answer: + +"Adam," said Mr. Vane, presently, "how much money have you spent so far?" + +"Well," said Mr. Hunt, "it has been sort of costly, but Brush and the +boys tell me the times are uncommon, and I guess they are. If that crazy +cuss Crewe hadn't broken loose, it would have been different. Not that +I'm uneasy about him, but all this talk of his and newspaper advertising +had to be counteracted some. Why, he has a couple of columns a week +right here in the Edmundton Courier. The papers are bleedin' him to +death, certain." + +"How much have you spent?" asked the Honourable Hilary. + +The Honourable Adam screwed up his face and pulled his goatee +thoughtfully. + +"What are you trying to get at, Hilary," he inquired, sending for me to +meet you out here in the woods in this curious way? If you wanted to see +me, why didn't you get me to go down to Ripton, or come up and sit on my +porch? You've been there before." + +"Times," said the Honourable Hilary, repeating, perhaps unconsciously, +Mr. Hunt's words, "are uncommon. This man Crewe's making more headway +than you think. The people don't know him, and he's struck a popular +note. It's the fashion to be down on railroads these days." + +"I've taken that into account," replied Mr. Hunt. + +"It's unlucky, and it comes high. I don't think he's got a show for the +nomination, but my dander's up, and I'll beat him if I have to mortgage +my house." + +The Honourable Hilary grunted, and ruminated. + +"How much did you say you'd spent, Adam?" + +"If you think I'm not free enough, I'll loosen up a little more," said +the Honourable Adam. + +"How free have you been?" said the Honourable Hilary. + +For some reason the question, put in this form, was productive of +results. + +"I can't say to a dollar, but I've got all the amounts down in a book. I +guess somewhere in the neighbourhood of nine thousand would cover it." + +Mr. Vane grunted again. + +"Would you take a cheque, Adam?" he inquired. + +"What for?" cried the Honourable Adam. + +"For the amount you've spent," said the Honourable Hilary, sententiously. + +The Honourable Adam began to breathe with apparent difficulty, and his +face grew purple. But Mr. Vane did not appear to notice these alarming +symptoms. Then the candidate turned about, as on a pivot, seized Mr. +Vane by the knee, and looked into his face. + +"Did you come up here with orders for me to get out?" he demanded, with +some pardonable violence. "By thunder, I didn't think that of my old +friend, Hilary Vane. You ought to have known me better, and Flint ought +to have known me better. There ain't a mite of use of our staying here +another second, and you can go right back and tell Flint what I said. +Flint knows I've been waiting to be governor for eight years, and each +year it's been just a year ahead. You ask him what he said to me when he +sent for me to go to New York. I thought he was a man of his word, and +he promised me that I should be governor this year." + +The Honourable Hilary gave no indication of being moved by this righteous +outburst. + +"You can be governor next year, when this reform nonsense has blown +over," he said. "You can't be this year, even if you stay in the race." + +"Why not?" the Honourable Adam asked pugnaciously. + +"Your record won't stand it--not just now," said Mr. Vane, slowly. + +"My record is just as good as yours, or any man's," said the Honourable +Adam. + +"I never run for office," answered Mr. Vane. + +"Haven't I spent the days of my active life in the service of that road-- +and is this my reward? Haven't I done what Flint wanted always?" + +"That's just the trouble," said the Honourable Hilary; too many folks +know it. If we're going to win this time, we've got to have a man who's +never had any Northeastern connections." + +"Who have you picked?" demanded the Honourable Adam, with alarming +calmness. + +"We haven't picked anybody yet," said Mr. Vane, "but the man who goes in +will give you a cheque for what you've spent, and you can be governor +next time." + +"Well, if this isn't the d-dest, coldest-blooded proposition ever made, I +want to know!" cried the Honourable Adam. "Will Flint put up a bond of +one hundred thousand dollars that I'll be nominated and elected next +year? This is the clearest case of going back on an old friend I ever +saw. If this is the way you fellows get scared because a sham reformer +gets up and hollers against the road, then I want to serve notice on you +that I'm not made of that kind of stuff. When I go into a fight, I go in +to stay, and you can't pull me out by the coat-tails in favour of a saint +who's never done a lick of work for the road. You tell Flint that." + +"All right, Adam," said Hilary. + +Some note in Hilary's voice, as he made this brief answer, suddenly +sobered the Honourable Adam, and sent a cold chill down his spine. He +had had many dealings with Mr. Vane, and he had always been as putty in +the chief counsel's hands. This simple acquiescence did more to convince +the Honourable Adam that his chances of nomination were in real danger +than a long and forceful summary of the situation could have +accomplished. But like many weak men, the Honourable Adam had a stubborn +streak, and a fatuous idea that opposition and indignation were signs of +strength. + +"I've made sacrifices for the road before, and effaced myself. But by +thunder, this is too much!" + +Corporations, like republics, are proverbially ungrateful. The +Honourable Hilary might have voiced this sentiment, but refrained. + +"Mr. Flint's a good friend of yours, Adam. He wanted me to say that he'd +always taken care of you, and always would, so far as in his power. If +you can't be landed this time, it's common sense for you to get out, and +wait--isn't it? We'll see that you get a cheque to cover what you've put +out." + +The humour in this financial sacrifice of Mr. Flint's (which the unknown +new candidate was to make with a cheque) struck neither the Honourable +Adam nor the Honourable Hilary. The transaction, if effected, would +resemble that of the shrine to the Virgin built by a grateful Marquis of +Mantua--which a Jew paid for. + +The Honourable Adam got to his feet. + +"You can tell Flint," he said, "that if he will sign a bond of one +hundred thousand dollars to elect me next time, I'll get out. That's my +last word." + +"All right, Adam," replied Mr. Vane, rising also. + +Mr. Hunt stared at the Honourable Hilary thoughtfully; and although the +gubernatorial candidate was not an observant man, he was suddenly struck +by the fact that the chief counsel was growing old. + +"I won't hold this against you, Hilary," he said. + +"Politics," said the Honourable Hilary, "are business matters." + +"I'll show Flint that it would have been good business to stick to me," +said the Honourable Adam. "When be gets panicky, and spends all his +money on new equipment and service, it's time for me to drop him. You +can tell him so from me." + +"Hadn't you better write him?" said the Honourable Hilary. + +The rumour of the entry of Mr. Giles Henderson of Kingston into the +gubernatorial contest preceded, by ten days or so, the actual event. It +is difficult for the historian to unravel the precise circumstances which +led to this candidacy. Conservative citizens throughout the State, it +was understood, had become greatly concerned over the trend political +affairs were taking; the radical doctrines of one candidate--propounded +for very obvious reasons--they turned from in disgust; on the other hand, +it was evident that an underlying feeling existed in certain sections +that any candidate who was said to have had more or less connection with +the Northeastern Railroads was undesirable at the present time. This was +not to be taken as a reflection on the Northeastern, which had been the +chief source of the State's prosperity, but merely as an acknowledgment +that a public opinion undoubtedly existed, and ought to be taken into +consideration by the men who controlled the Republican party. + +This was the gist of leading articles which appeared simultaneously in +several newspapers, apparently before the happy thought of bringing +forward Mr. Giles Henderson had occurred to anybody. He was mentioned +first, and most properly, by the editor of the "Kingston Pilot;" and the +article, with comments upon it, ran like wildfire through the press of +the State,--appearing even in those sheets which maintained editorially +that they were for the Honourable Adam B. Hunt first and last and, all +the time. Whereupon Mr. Giles Henderson began to receive visits from the +solid men--not politicians of the various cities and counties. For +instance, Mr. Silas Tredway of Ripton, made such a pilgrimage and, as a +citizen who had voted in 1860 for Abraham Lincoln (showing Mr. Tredway +himself to have been a radical once), appealed to Mr. Henderson to save +the State. + +At first Mr. Henderson would give no ear to these appeals, but shook his +head pessimistically. He was not a politician--so much the better, we +don't want a politician; he was a plain business man exactly what is +needed; a conservative, level-headed business man wholly lacking in those +sensational qualities which are a stench in the nostrils of good +citizens. Mr. Giles Henderson admitted that the time had come when a man +of these qualities was needed--but he was not the man. Mr. Tredway was +the man--so he told Mr. Tredway; Mr. Gates of Brampton was the man--so he +assured Mr. Gates. Mr. Henderson had no desire to meddle in politics; +his life was a happy and a full one. But was it not Mr. Henderson's +duty? Cincinnatus left the plough, and Mr. Henderson should leave the +ledger at the call of his countrymen. + +Mr. Giles Henderson was mild-mannered and blue-eyed, with a scanty beard +that was turning white; he was a deacon of the church, a member of the +school board, president of the Kingston National Bank; the main business +of his life had been in coal (which incidentally had had to be +transported over the Northeastern Railroads); and coal rates, for some +reason, were cheaper from Kingston than from many points out of the State +the distances of which were nearer. Mr. Henderson had been able to sell +his coal at a lower price than any other large dealer in the eastern part +of the State. Mr. Henderson was the holder of a large amount of stock in +the Northeastern, inherited from his father. Facts of no special +significance, and not printed in the weekly newspapers. Mr. Henderson +lived in a gloomy Gothic house on High Street, ate three very plain meals +a day, and drank iced water. He had been a good husband and a good +father, and had always voted the Republican ticket. He believed in the +gold standard, a high tariff, and eternal damnation. At last his +resistance was overcome, and he consented to allow his name to be used. + +It was used, with a vengeance. Spontaneous praise of Mr. Giles Henderson +bubbled up all over the State, and editors who were for the Honourable +Adam B. Hunt suddenly developed a second choice. No man within the +borders of the commonwealth had so many good qualities as the new +candidate, and it must have been slightly annoying to one of that +gentleman's shrinking nature to read daily, on coming down to breakfast, +a list of virtues attributed to him as long as a rate schedule. How he +must have longed for the record of one wicked deed to make him human! + +Who will pick a flaw in the character of the Honourable Giles Henderson? +Let that man now stand forth. + +The news of the probable advent of Mr. Giles Henderson on the field, as +well as the tidings of his actual consent to be a candidate, were not +slow in reaching Leith. And--Mr. Crewe's Bureau of Information being in +perfect working order--the dastardly attempt on the Honourable Adam B. +Hunt's coat-tails was known there. More wonders to relate: the +Honourable Adam B. Hunt had become a reformer; he had made a statement at +last, in which he declared with vigour that no machine or ring was behind +him; he stood on his own merits, invited the minutest inspection of his +record, declared that he was an advocate of good government, and if +elected would be the servant of no man and of no corporation. + +Thrice-blessed State, in which there were now three reform candidates for +governor! + +All of these happenings went to indicate confusion in the enemy's camp, +and corresponding elation in Mr. Crewe's. Woe to the reputation for +political sagacity of the gentleman who had used the words "negligible" +and "monumental farce"! The tide was turning, and the candidate from +Leith redoubled his efforts. Had he been confounded by the advent of the +Honourable Giles? Not at all. Mr. Crewe was not given to satire; his +methods, as we know, were direct. Hence the real author of the following +passage in his speech before an overflow meeting in the State capital +remains unknown: + +"My friends," Mr. Crewe had said, "I have been waiting for the time when +St. Giles of the Blameless Life would be pushed forward, apparently as +the only hope of our so-called 'solid citizens.' (Prolonged laughter, and +audible repetitions of Mr. Henderson's nickname, which was to stick.) I +will tell you by whose desire St. Giles became a candidate, and whose +bidding he will do if he becomes governor as blindly and obediently as +the Honourable Adam B. Hunt ever did. (Shouts of "Flint!" and, "The +Northeastern!") I see you know. Who sent the solid citizens to see Mr. +Henderson? ("Flint!") This is a clever trick--exactly what I should have +done if I'd been running their campaign--only they didn't do it early +enough. They picked Mr. Giles Henderson for two reasons: because he +lives in Kingston, which is anti-railroad and supported the Gaylord bill, +and, because he never in his life committed any positive action, good or +bad--and he never will. And they made another mistake--the Honourable +Adam B. Hunt wouldn't back out." (Laughter and cheers.) + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN WHICH EUPHRASIA TAKES A HAND + +Austen had not forgotten his promise to Euphrasia, and he had gone to +Hanover Street many times since his sojourn at Mr. Jabe Jenney's. +Usually these visits had taken place in the middle of the day, when +Euphrasia, with gentle but determined insistence, had made him sit down +before some morsel which she had prepared against his coming, and which +he had not the heart to refuse. In answer to his inquiries about Hilary, +she would toss her head and reply, disdainfully, that he was as +comfortable as he should be. For Euphrasia had her own strict ideas of +justice, and to her mind Hilary's suffering was deserved. That suffering +was all the more terrible because it was silent, but Euphrasia was a +stern woman. To know that he missed Austen, to feel that Hilary was +being justly punished for his treatment of her idol, for his callous +neglect and lack of realization of the blessings of his life--these were +Euphrasia's grim compensations. + +At times, even, she had experienced a strange rejoicing that she had +promised Austen to remain with his father, for thus it had been given her +to be the daily witness of a retribution for which she had longed during +many years. Nor did she strive to hide her feelings. Their intercourse, +never voluminous, had shrunk to the barest necessities for the use of +speech; but Hilary, ever since the night of his son's departure, had read +in the face of his housekeeper a knowledge of his suffering, an exultation +a thousand times more maddening than the little reproaches of language +would have been. He avoided her more than ever, and must many times have +regretted bitterly the fact that he had betrayed himself to her. As for +Euphrasia, she had no notion of disclosing Hilary's torture to his son. +She was determined that the victory, when it came, should be Austen's, +and the surrender Hilary's. + +"He manages to eat his meals, and gets along as common," she would reply. +"He only thinks of himself and that railroad." + +But Austen read between the lines. + +"Poor old Judge," he would answer; "it's because he's made that way, +Phrasie. He can't help it, any more than I can help flinging law-books +on the floor and running off to the country to have a good time. You +know as well as I do that he hasn't had much joy out of life; that he'd +like to be different, only he doesn't know how." + +"I can't see that it takes much knowledge to treat a wife and son like +human beings," Euphrasia retorted; "that's only common humanity. For a +man that goes to meetin' twice a week, you'd have thought he'd have +learned something by this time out of the New Testament. He's prayed +enough in his life, goodness knows!" + +Now Euphrasia's ordinarily sharp eyes were sharpened an hundred fold by +affection; and of late, at odd moments during his visits, Austen had +surprised them fixed on him with a penetration that troubled him. + +"You don't seem to fancy the tarts as much as you used to," she would +remark. "Time was when you'd eat three and four at a sittin'." + +"Phrasie, one of your persistent fallacies is, that I'm still a boy." + +"You ain't yourself," said Euphrasia, ignoring this pleasantry, "and you +ain't been yourself for some months. I've seen it. I haven't brought +you up for nothing. If he's troubling you, don't you worry a mite. He +ain't worth it. He eats better than you do." + +"I'm not worrying much about that," Austen answered, smiling. "The Judge +and I will patch it up before long--I'm sure. He's worried now over +these people who are making trouble for his railroad." + +"I wish railroads had never been invented," cried Euphrasia. "It seems +to me they bring nothing but trouble. My mother used to get along pretty +well in a stage-coach." + +One evening in September, when the summer days were rapidly growing +shorter and the mists rose earlier in the valley of the Blue, Austen, who +had stayed late at the office preparing a case, ate his supper at the +Ripton House. As he sat in the big dining room, which was almost empty, +the sense of loneliness which he had experienced so often of late came +over him, and he thought of Euphrasia. His father, he knew, had gone to +Kingston for the night, and so he drove up Hanover Street and hitched +Pepper to the stone post before the door. Euphrasia, according to an +invariable custom, would be knitting in the kitchen at this hour; and at +the sight of him in the window, she dropped her work with a little, +joyful cry. + +"I was just thinking of you!" she said, in a low voice of tenderness +which many people would not have recognized as Euphrasia's; as though her +thoughts of him were the errant ones of odd moments! "I'm so glad you +come. It's lonesome here of evenings, Austen." + +He entered silently and sat down beside her, in a Windsor chair which had +belonged to some remote Austen of bygone days. + +"You don't have as good things to eat up at Mis' Jenney's as I give you," +she remarked. "Not that you appear to care much for eatables any more. +Austen, are you feeling poorly?" + +"I can dig more potatoes in a day than any other man in Ripton," he +declared. + +"You'd ought to get married," said Euphrasia, abruptly. "I've told you +that before, but you never seem to pay any attention to what I say." + +"Why haven't you tried it, Phrasie?" he retorted. + +He was not prepared for what followed. Euphrasia did not answer at once, +but presently her knitting dropped to her lap, and she sat staring at the +old clock on the kitchen shelf. + +"He never asked me," she said, simply. + +Austen was silent. The answer seemed to recall, with infinite pathos, +Euphrasia's long-lost youth, and he had not thought of youth as a quality +which could ever have pertained to her. She must have been young once, +and fresh, and full of hope for herself; she must have known, long ago, +something of what he now felt, something of the joy and pain, something +of the inexpressible, never ceasing yearning for the fulfilment of a +desire that dwarfed all others. Euphrasia had been denied that +fulfilment. And he--would he, too, be denied it? + +Out of Euphrasia's eyes, as she gazed at the mantel-shelf, shone the +light of undying fires within--fires which at a touch could blaze forth +after endless years, transforming the wrinkled face, softening the +sterner lines of character. And suddenly there was a new bond between +the two. So used are the young to the acceptance of the sacrifice of the +old that they lose sight of that sacrifice. But Austen saw now, in a +flash, the years of Euphrasia's self-denial, the years of memories, the +years of regrets for that which might have been. + +"Phrasie," he said, laying a hand on hers, which rested on the arm of the +chair, I was only joking, you know." + +"I know, I know," Euphrasia answered hastily, and turned and looked into +his face searchingly. Her eyes were undimmed, and the light was still in +them which revealed a soul of which he had had no previous knowledge. + +"I know you was, dear. I never told that to a living being except your +mother. He's dead now--he never knew. But I told her--I couldn't help +it. She had a way of drawing things out of you, and you just couldn't +resist. I'll never forget that day she came in here and looked at me and +took my hand--same as you have it now. She wasn't married then. I'll +never forget the sound of her voice as she said, 'Euphrasia, tell me +about it.'" (Here Euphrasia's own voice trembled.) "I told her, just as +I'm telling you,--because I couldn't help it. Folks, had to tell her +things." + +She turned her hand and clasped his tightly with her own thin fingers. + +"And oh, Austen," she cried, "I want so that you should be happy! She +was so unhappy, it doesn't seem right that you should be, too." + +"I shall be, Phrasie," he said; "you mustn't worry about that." + +For a while the only sound in the room was the ticking of the old clock +with the quaint, coloured picture on its panel. And then, with a +movement which, strangely, was an acute reminder of a way Victoria had, +Euphrasia turned and searched his face once more. + +"You're not happy," she said. + +He could not put this aside--nor did he wish to. Her own confidence had +been so simple, so fine, so sure of his sympathy, that he felt it would +be unworthy to equivocate; the confessions of the self-reliant are sacred +things. Yes, and there had been times when he had longed to unburden +himself; but he had had no intimate on this plane, and despite the great +sympathy between them--that Euphrasia might understand had never occurred +to him. She had read his secret. + +In that instant Euphrasia, with the instinct which love lends to her sex, +had gone farther; indignation seized her--and the blame fell upon the +woman. Austen's words, unconsciously, were an answer to her thoughts. + +"It isn't anybody's fault but my own," he said. + +Euphrasia's lips were tightly closed. Long ago the idol of her youth had +faded into the substance of which dreams are made--to be recalled by +dreams alone; another worship had filled her heart, and Austen Vane had +become--for her--the fulness and the very meaning of life itself; one to +be admired of all men, to be desired of all women. Visions of Austen's +courtship had at times risen in her mind, although Euphrasia would not +have called it a courtship. When the time came, Austen would confer; and +so sure of his judgment was Euphrasia that she was prepared to take the +recipient of the priceless gift into her arms. And now! Was it possible +that a woman lived who would even hesitate? Curiosity seized Euphrasia +with the intensity of a passion. Who was this woman? When and where had +he seen her? Ripton could not have produced her--for it was +characteristic of Euphrasia that no girl of her acquaintance was worthy +to be raised to such a height; Austen's wife would be an unknown of ideal +appearance and attainments. Hence indignation rocked Euphrasia, and +doubts swayed her. In this alone she had been an idealist, but she might +have known that good men were a prey to the unworthy of the opposite sex. + +She glanced at Austen's face, and he smiled at her gently, as though he +divined something of her thoughts. + +"If it isn't your fault, that you're not happy, then the matter's easily +mended," she said. + +He shook his head at her, as though in reproof. + +"Was yours--easily mended?" he asked. + +Euphrasia was silent a moment. + +"He never knew," she repeated, in a low voice. + +"Well, Phrasie, it looks very much as if we were in the same boat," he +said. + +Euphrasia's heart gave a bound. + +"Then you haven't spoke!" she cried; "I knew you hadn't. I--I was a +woman--but sometimes I've thought I'd ought to have given him some sign. +You're a man, Austen; thank God for it, you're a man. If a man loves a +woman, he's only got to tell her so." + +"It isn't as simple as that," he answered. + +Euphrasia gave him a startled glance. + +"She ain't married?" she exclaimed. + +"No," he said, and laughed in spite of himself. + +Euphrasia breathed again. For Sarah Austen had had a morality of her +own, and on occasions had given expression to extreme views. + +"She's not playin' with you?" was Euphrasia's next question, and her tone +boded ill to any young person who would indulge in these tactics with +Austen. + +He shook his head again, and smiled at her vehemence. + +"No, she's not playing with me--she isn't that kind. I'd like to tell +you, but I can't--I can't. It was only because you guessed that I said +anything about it." He disengaged his hand, and rose, and patted her on +the cheek. "I suppose I had to tell somebody," he said, "and you seemed, +somehow, to be the right person, Phrasie." + +Euphrasia rose abruptly and looked up intently into his face. He thought +it strange afterwards, as he drove along the dark roads, that she had not +answered him. + +Even though the matter were on the knees of the gods, Euphrasia would +have taken it thence, if she could. Nor did Austen know that she shared +with him, that night, his waking hours. + +The next morning Mr. Thomas Gaylord, the younger, was making his way +towards the office of the Gaylord Lumber Company, conveniently situated +on Willow Street, near the railroad. Young Tom was in a particularly +jovial frame of mind, despite the fact that he had arrived in Ripton, on +the night express, as early as five o'clock in the morning. He had been +touring the State ostensibly on lumber business, but young Tom had a +large and varied personal as well as commercial acquaintance, and he had +the inestimable happiness of being regarded as an honest man, while his +rough and genial qualities made him beloved. For these reasons and +others of a more material nature, suggestions from Mr. Thomas Gaylord +were apt to be well received--and Tom had been making suggestions. + +Early as he was at his office--the office-boy was sprinkling the floor-- +young Tom had a visitor who was earlier still. Pausing in the doorway, +Mr. Gaylord beheld with astonishment a prim, elderly lady in a stiff, +black dress sitting upright on the edge of a capacious oak chair which +seemed itself rather discomfited by what it contained,--for its +hospitality had hitherto been extended to visitors of a very different +sort. + +"Well, upon my soul," cried young Tom, "if it isn't Euphrasia!" + +"Yes, it's me," said Euphrasia; "I've been to market, and I had a notion +to see you before I went home." + +Mr. Gaylord took the office-boy lightly by the collar of his coat and +lifted him, sprinkling can and all, out of the doorway and closed the +door. Then he drew his revolving chair close to Euphrasia, and sat down. +They were old friends, and more than once in a youth far from model Tom +had experienced certain physical reproof at her hands, for which he bore +no ill-will. There was anxiety on his face as he asked:-- + +"There hasn't been any accident, has there, Euphrasia?" + +"No," she said. + +"No new row?" inquired Tom. + +"No," said Euphrasia. She was a direct person, as we know, but true +descendants of the Puritans believe in the decency of preliminaries, and +here was certainly an affair not to be plunged into. Euphrasia was a +spinster in the strictest sense of that formidable and highly descriptive +term, and she intended ultimately to discuss with Tom a subject of which +she was supposed by tradition to be wholly ignorant, the mere mention of +which still brought warmth to her cheeks. Such a delicate matter should +surely be led up to delicately. In the meanwhile Tom was mystified. + +"Well, I'm mighty glad to see you, anyhow," he said heartily. "It was +fond of you to call, Euphrasia. I can't offer you a cigar." + +"I should think not," said Euphrasia. + +Tom reddened. He still retained for her some of his youthful awe. + +"I can't do the honours of hospitality as I'd wish to," he went on; "I +can't give you anything like the pies you used to give me." + +"You stole most of 'em," said Euphrasia. + +"I guess that's so," said young Tom, laughing, "but I'll never taste pies +like 'em again as long as I live. Do you know, Euphrasia, there were two +reasons why those were the best pies I ever ate?" + +"What were they?" she asked, apparently unmoved. + +"First," said Tom, "because you made 'em, and second, because they were +stolen." + +Truly, young Tom had a way with women, had he only been aware of it. + +"I never took much stock in stolen things," said Euphrasia. + +"It's because you never were tempted with such pie as that," replied the +audacious Mr. Gaylord. + +"You're gettin' almighty stout," said Euphrasia. + +As we see her this morning, could she indeed ever have had a love affair? + +"I don't have to use my legs as much as I once did," said Tom. And this +remark brought to an end the first phase of this conversation,--brought +to an end, apparently, all conversation whatsoever. Tom racked his brain +for a new topic, opened his roll-top desk, drummed on it, looked up at +the ceiling and whistled softly, and then turned and faced again the +imperturbable Euphrasia. + +"Euphrasia," he said, you're not exactly a politician, I believe." + +"Well," said Euphrasia, "I've be'n maligned a good many times, but nobody +ever went that far." + +Mr. Gaylord shook with laughter. + +"Then I guess there's no harm in confiding political secrets to you," he +said. "I've been around the State some this week, talking to people I +know, and I believe if your Austen wasn't so obstinate, we could make him +governor." + +"Obstinate?" ejaculated Euphrasia. + +"Yes," said Tom, with a twinkle in his eye, "obstinate. He doesn't seem +to want something that most men would give their souls for." + +"And why should he dirty himself with politics?" she demanded. "In the +years I've lived with Hilary Vane I've seen enough of politicians, +goodness knows. I never want to see another." + +"If Austen was governor, we'd change some of that. But mind, Euphrasia, +this is a secret," said Tom, raising a warning finger. "If Austen hears +about it now, the jig's up." + +Euphrasia considered and thawed a little. + +"They don't often have governors that young, do they?" she asked. + +"No," said Tom, forcibly, "they don't. And so far as I know, they +haven't had such a governor for years as Austen would make. But he won't +push himself. You know, Euphrasia, I have always believed that he will +be President some day." + +Euphrasia received this somewhat startling prediction complacently. She +had no doubt of its accuracy, but the enunciation of it raised young Tom +in her estimation, and incidentally brought her nearer her topic. + +"Austen ain't himself lately," she remarked. + +"I knew that he didn't get along with Hilary," said Tom, sympathetically, +beginning to realize now that Euphrasia had come to talk about her idol. + +"It's Hilary doesn't get along with him," she retorted indignantly. +"He's responsible--not Austen. Of all the narrow, pig-headed, selfish +men the Lord ever created, Hilary Vane's the worst. It's Hilary drove +him out of his mother's house to live with strangers. It's Austen that +comes around to inquire for his father--Hilary never has a word to say +about Austen." A trace of colour actually rose under Euphrasia's sallow +skin, and she cast her eyes downward. "You've known him a good while, +haven't you, Tom?" + +"All my life," said Tom, mystified again, "all my life. And I, think +more of him than of anybody else in the world." + +"I calculated as much," she said; "that's why I came." She hesitated. +Artful Euphrasia! We will let the ingenuous Mr. Gaylord be the first to +mention this delicate matter, if possible. "Goodness knows, it ain't +Hilary I came to talk about. I had a notion that you'd know if anything +else was troubling Austen." + +"Why," said Tom, "there can't be any business troubles outside of those +Hilary's mixed up in. Austen doesn't spend any money to speak of, except +what he gives away, and he's practically chief counsel for our company." + +Euphrasia was silent a moment. + +"I suppose there's nothing else that could bother him," she remarked. +She had never held Tom Gaylord's powers of comprehension in high +estimation, and the estimate had not risen during this visit. But she +had undervalued him; even Tom could rise to an inspiration--when the +sources of all other inspirations were eliminated. + +"Why," he exclaimed, with a masculine lack of delicacy, "he may be in +love--" + +"That's struck you, has it?" said Euphrasia. + +But Tom appeared to be thinking; he was, in truth, engaged in collecting +his cumulative evidence: Austen's sleigh-ride at the capital, which he +had discovered; his talk with Victoria after her fall, when she had +betrayed an interest in Austen which Tom had thought entirely natural; +and finally Victoria's appearance at Mr. Crewe's rally in Ripton. Young +Mr. Gaylord had not had a great deal of experience in affairs of the +heart, and he was himself aware that his diagnosis in such a matter would +not carry much weight. He had conceived a tremendous admiration for +Victoria, which had been shaken a little by the suspicion that she might +be intending to marry Mr. Crewe. Tom Gaylord saw no reason why Austen +Vane should not marry Mr. Flint's daughter if he chose--or any other +man's daughter; partaking, in this respect, somewhat of Euphrasia's view. +As for Austen himself, Tom had seen no symptoms; but then, he reflected, +he would not be likely to see any. However, he perceived the object now +of Euphrasia's visit, and began to take the liveliest interest in it. + +"So you think Austen's in love?" he demanded. + +Euphrasia sat up straighter, if anything. + +"I didn't say anything of the kind," she returned. + +"He wouldn't tell me, you know," said Tom; "I can only guess at it." + +"And the--lady?" said Euphrasia, craftily. + +"I'm up a tree there, too. All I know is that he took her sleigh-riding +one afternoon at the capital, and wouldn't tell me who he was going to +take. And then she fell off her horse down at East Tunbridge Station--" + +"Fell off her horse!" echoed Euphrasia, an accident comparable in her +mind to falling off a roof. What manner of young woman was this who fell +off horses? + +"She wasn't hurt," Tom continued, "and she rode the beast home. He was a +wild one, I can tell you, and she's got pluck. That's the first time I +ever met her, although I had often seen her and thought she was a stunner +to look at. She talked as if she took an interest in Austen." + +An exact portrayal of Euphrasia's feelings at this description of the +object of Austen's affections is almost impossible. A young woman who +was a stunner, who rode wild horses and fell off them and rode them +again, was beyond the pale not only of Euphrasia's experience but of her +imagination likewise. And this hoyden had talked as though she took an +interest in Austen! Euphrasia was speechless. + +"The next time I saw her," said Tom, "was when she came down here to +listen to Humphrey Crewe's attacks on the railroad. I thought that was a +sort of a queer thing for Flint's daughter to do, but Austen didn't seem +to look at it that way. He talked to her after the show was over." + +At this point Euphrasia could contain herself no longer, and in her +excitement she slipped off the edge of the chair and on to her feet. + +"Flint's daughter?" she cried; "Augustus P. Flint's daughter?" + +Tom looked at her in amazement. + +"Didn't you know who it was?" he stammered. But Euphrasia was not +listening. + +"I've seen her," she was saying; "I've seen her ridin' through Ripton in +that little red wagon, drivin' herself, with a coachman perched up beside +her. Flint's daughter!" Euphrasia became speechless once more, the +complications opened up being too vast for intelligent comment. +Euphrasia, however, grasped some of the problems which Austen had had to +face. Moreover, she had learned what she had come for, and the obvious +thing to do now was to go home and reflect. So, without further +ceremony, she walked to the door and opened it, and turned again with her +hand on the knob. "Look here, Tom Gaylord," she said, "if you tell Austen +I was here, I'll never forgive you. I don't believe you've got any more +sense than to do it." + +And with these words she took her departure, ere the amazed Mr. Gaylord +had time to show her out. Half an hour elapsed before he opened his +letters. + +When she arrived home in Hanover Street it was nine o'clock--an hour well +on in the day for Euphrasia. Unlocking the kitchen door, she gave a +glance at the stove to assure herself that it had not been misbehaving, +and went into the passage on her way up-stairs to take off her gown +before sitting down to reflect upon the astonishing thing she had heard. +Habit had so crystallized in Euphrasia that no news, however amazing, +could have shaken it. But in the passage she paused; an unwonted, or +rather untimely, sound reached her ears, a sound which came from the +front of the house--and at nine o'clock in the morning! Had Austen been +at home, Euphrasia would have thought nothing of it. In her remembrance +Hilary Vane, whether he returned from a journey or not, had never been +inside the house at that hour on a week-day; and, unlike the gentleman in +"La Vie de Boheme," Euphrasia did not have to be reminded of the Sabbath. + +Perhaps Austen had returned! Or perhaps it was a burglar! Euphrasia, +undaunted, ran through the darkened front hall to where the graceful +banister ended in a curve at the foot of the stairs, and there, on the +bottom step, sat a man with his head in his hands. Euphrasia shrieked. +He looked up, and she saw that it was Hilary Vane. She would have +shrieked, anyway. + +"What in the world's the matter with you?" she cried. + +"I--I stumbled coming down the stairs," he said. + +"But what are you doing at home in the middle of the morning?" she +demanded. + +He did not answer her. The subdued light which crept under the porch and +came in through the fan shaped window over the door fell on his face. + +"Are you sick?" said Euphrasia. In all her life she had never seen him +look like that. + +He shook his head, but did not attempt to rise. A Hilary Vane without +vigour! + +"No," he said, "no. I just came up here from the train to--get somethin' +I'd left in my room." + +"A likely story!" said Euphrasia. "You've never done that in thirty +years. You're sick, and I'm a-going for the doctor." + +She put her hand to his forehead, but he thrust it away and got to his +feet, although in the effort he compressed his lips and winced. + +"You stay where you are," he said; "I tell you I'm not sick, and I'm +going down to the square. Let, the doctors alone--I haven't got any use +for 'em." + +He walked to the door, opened it, and went out and slammed it in her +face. By the time she had got it open again--a crack--he had reached the +sidewalk, and was apparently in full possession of his powers and +faculties. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A FALLING-OUT IN HIGH PLACES + +Although one of the most exciting political battles ever fought is fast +coming to its climax, and a now jubilant Mr. Crewe is contesting every +foot of ground in the State with the determination and pertinacity which +make him a marked man; although the convention wherein his fate will be +decided is now but a few days distant, and everything has been done to +secure a victory which mortal man can do, let us follow Hilary Vane to +Fairview. Not that Hilary has been idle. The "Book of Arguments" is +exhausted, and the chiefs and the captains have been to Ripton, and +received their final orders, but more than one has gone back to his fief +with the vision of a changed Hilary who has puzzled them. Rumours have +been in the air that the harmony between the Source of Power and the +Distribution of Power is not as complete as it once was. Certainly, +Hilary Vane is not the man he was--although this must not even be +whispered. Senator Whitredge had told--but never mind that. In the old +days an order was an order; there were no rebels then. In the old days +there was no wavering and rescinding, and if the chief counsel told you, +with brevity, to do a thing, you went and did it straightway, with the +knowledge that it was the best thing to do. Hilary Vane had aged +suddenly, and it occurred for the first time to many that, in this +utilitarian world, old blood must be superseded by young blood. + +Two days before the convention, immediately after taking dinner at the +Ripton House with Mr. Nat Billings, Hilary Vane, in response to a +summons, drove up to Fairview. One driving behind him would have +observed that the Honourable Hilary's horse took his own gaits, and that +the reins, most of the time, drooped listlessly on his quarters. A +September stillness was in the air, a September purple clothed the +distant hills, but to Hilary the glories of the day were as things non- +existent. Even the groom at Fairview, who took his horse, glanced back +at him with a peculiar expression as he stood for a moment on the steps +with a hesitancy the man had never before remarked. + +In the meantime Mr. Flint, with a pile of letters in a special basket on +the edge of his desk, was awaiting his counsel; the president of the +Northeastern was pacing his room, as was his wont when his activities +were for a moment curbed, or when he had something on his mind; and every +few moments he would glance towards his mantel at the clock which was set +to railroad time. In past days he had never known Hilary Vane to be a +moment late to an appointment. The door was open, and five and twenty +minutes had passed the hour before he saw the lawyer in the doorway. Mr. +Flint was a man of such preoccupation of mind that he was not likely to +be struck by any change there might have been in his counsel's +appearance. + +"It's half-past three," he said. + +Hilary entered, and sat down beside the window. + +"You mean that I'm late," he replied. + +"I've got some engineers coming here in less than an hour," said Mr. +Flint. + +"I'll be gone in less than an hour," said Hilary. + +"Well," said Mr. Flint, "let's get down to hardtack. I've got to be +frank with you, Vane, and tell you plainly that this political business +is all at sixes and sevens." + +"It isn't necessary to tell me that," said Hilary. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that I know it." + +"To put it mildly," the president of the Northeastern continued, "it's +the worst mixed-up campaign I ever knew. Here we are with the convention +only two days off, and we don't know where we stand, how many delegates +we've got, or whether this upstart at Leith is going to be nominated over +our heads. Here's Adam Hunt with his back up, declaring he's a reformer, +and all his section of the State behind him. Now if that could have been +handled otherwise--" + +"Who told Hunt to go in?" Hilary inquired. + +"Things were different then," said Mr. Flint, vigorously. "Hunt had been +promised the governorship for a long time, and when Ridout became out of +the question--" + +"Why did Ridout become out of the question?" asked Hilary. + +Mr. Flint made a gesture of impatience. + +"On account of that foolishness in the Legislature, of course." + +"That foolishness in the Legislature, as you call it, represented a +sentiment all over the State," said Hilary. "And if I'd been you, I +wouldn't have let Hunt in this year. But you didn't ask my opinion. You +asked me when you begged me to get Adam out, and I predicted that he +wouldn't get out." + +Mr. Flint took a turn up and down the room. + +"I'm sorry I didn't send for him to go to New York," he said. "Well, +anyway, the campaign's been muddled, that's certain,--whoever muddled +it." And the president looked at his counsel as though he, at least, had +no doubts on this point. But Hilary appeared unaware of the implication, +and made no reply. + +"I can't find out what Bascom and Botcher are doing," Mr. Flint went on; +"I don't get any reports--they haven't been here. Perhaps you know. +They've had trip passes enough to move the whole population of Putnam +County. Fairplay says they're gettin' delegates for Adam Hunt instead of +Giles Henderson. And Whitredge says that Jake Botcher is talking +reform." + +"I guess Botcher and Bascom know their business," said Mr. Vane. If Mr. +Flint had been a less concentrated man, he might have observed that the +Honourable Hilary had not cut a piece of Honey Dew this afternoon. + +"What is their business?" asked Mr. Flint--a little irrelevantly for him. + +"What you and I taught 'em," said Mr. Vane. + +Mr. Flint considered this a moment, and decided to let it pass. He +looked at the Honourable Hilary more closely, however. + +"What's the matter with you, Vane? You're not sick, are you?" + +"No." + +Mr. Flint took another turn. + +"Now the question is, what are we going to do? If you've got any plan, I +want to hear it." + +Mr. Vane was silent. + +"Suppose Crewe goes into the convention with enough delegates to lock it +up, so that none of the three has a majority?" + +"I guess he'll do that," said Mr. Vane. He fumbled in his pocket, and +drew out a typewritten list. It must be explained that the caucuses, or +primaries, had been held in the various towns of the State at odd dates, +and that the delegates pledged for the different candidates had been +published in the newspapers from time to time--although very much in +accordance with the desires of their individual newspapers. Mr. Crewe's +delegates necessarily had been announced by what is known as political +advertising. Mr. Flint took the Honourable Hilary's list, ran his eye +over it, and whistled. + +"You mean he claims three hundred and fifty out of the thousand." + +"No," said Hilary, "he claims six hundred. He'll have three hundred and +fifty." + +In spite of the 'Book of Arguments,' Mr. Crewe was to have three hundred! +It was incredible, preposterous. Mr. Flint looked at his counsel once +more, and wondered whether he could be mentally failing. + +"Fairplay only gives him two hundred." + +"Fairplay only gave him ten, in the beginning," said Hilary. + +"You come here two days before the convention and tell me Crewe has three +hundred and fifty!" Mr. Flint exclaimed, as though Hilary Vane were +personally responsible for Mr. Crewe's delegates. A very different tone +from that of other times, when conventions were mere ratifications of +Imperial decrees. "Do you realize what it means if we lose control? +Thousands and thousands of dollars in improvements--rolling stock, better +service, new bridges, and eliminations of grade crossings. And they'll +raise our tax rate to the average, which means thousands more. A new +railroad commission that we can't talk to, and lower dividends--lower +dividends, do you understand? That means trouble with the directors, the +stockholders, and calls for explanations. And what explanations can I +make which can be printed in a public report?" + +"You were always pretty good at 'em, Flint," said Hilary. + +This remark, as was perhaps natural, did not improve the temper of the +president of the Northeastern. + +"If you think I like this political business any better than you do, +you're mightily mistaken," he replied. "And now I want to hear what plan +you've got for the convention. Suppose there's a deadlock, as you say +there will be, how are you going to handle it? Can you get a deal +through between Giles Henderson and Adam Hunt? With all my other work, +I've had to go into this myself. Hunt hasn't got a chance. Bascom and +Botcher are egging him on and making him believe he has. When Hunt gets +into the convention and begins to fall off, you've got to talk to him, +Vane. And his delegates have all got to be seen at the Pelican the night +before and understand that they're to swing to Henderson after two +ballots. You've got to keep your hand on the throttle in the convention, +you understand. And I don't need to impress upon you how grave are the +consequences if this man Crewe gets in, with public sentiment behind him +and a reactionary Lower House. You've got to keep your hand on the +throttle." + +"That's part of my business, isn't it?" Hilary asked, without turning his +head. + +Mr. Flint did not answer, but his eye rested again on his counsel's face. + +"I'm that kind of a lawyer," Hilary continued, apparently more to himself +than to his companion. "You pay me for that sort of thing more than for +the work I do in the courts. Isn't that so, Flint?" + +Mr. Flint was baffled. Two qualities which were very dear to him he +designated as sane and safe, and he had hitherto regarded his counsel as +the sanest and safest of men. This remark made him wonder seriously +whether the lawyer's mind were not giving away; and if so, to whom was he +to turn at this eleventh hour? No man in the State knew the ins and outs +of conventions as did Hilary Vane; and, in the rare times when there had +been crises, he had sat quietly in the little room off the platform as at +the keyboard of an organ, and the delegates had responded to his touch. +Hilary Vane had named the presidents of conventions, and the committees, +and by pulling out stops could get such resolutions as he wished--or as +Mr. Flint wished. But now? + +Suddenly a suspicion invaded Mr. Flint's train of thought; he repeated +Hilary's words over to himself. "I'm that kind of a lawyer," and another +individuality arose before the president of the Northeastern. Instincts +are curious things. On the day, some years before, when Austen Vane had +brought his pass into this very room and laid it down on his desk, Mr. +Flint had recognized a man with whom he would have to deal,--a stronger +man than Hilary. Since then he had seen Austen's hand in various +disturbing matters, and now it was as if he heard Austen speaking. "I'm +that kind of a lawyer." Not Hilary Vane, but Hilary Vane's son was +responsible for Hilary Vane's condition--this recognition came to Mr. +Flint in a flash. Austen had somehow accomplished the incredible feat of +making Hilary Vane ashamed--and when such men as Hilary are ashamed, +their usefulness is over. Mr. Flint had seen the thing happen with a +certain kind of financiers, one day aggressive, combative, and the next +broken, querulous men. Let a man cease to believe in what he is doing, +and he loses force. + +The president of the Northeastern used a locomotive as long as possible, +but when it ceased to be able to haul a train up-grade, he sent it to the +scrap-heap. Mr. Flint was far from being a bad man, but he worshipped +power, and his motto was the survival of the fittest. He did not yet +feel pity for Hilary--for he was angry. Only contempt,--contempt that +one who had been a power should come to this. To draw a somewhat far- +fetched parallel, a Captain Kidd or a Caesar Borgia with a conscience +would never have been heard of. Mr. Flint did not call it a conscience-- +he had a harder name for it. He had to send Hilary, thus vitiated, into +the Convention to conduct the most important battle since the founding of +the Empire, and Austen Vane was responsible. + +Mr. Flint had to control himself. In spite of his feelings, he saw that +he must do so. And yet he could not resist saying: +"I get a good many rumours here. They tell me that there may be another +candidate in the field--a dark horse." + +"Who?" asked Hilary. + +"There was a meeting in the room of a man named Redbrook during the +Legislature to push this candidate," said Mr. Flint, eyeing his counsel +significantly, "and now young Gaylord has been going quietly around the +State in his interest." + +Suddenly the listless figure of Hilary Vane straightened, and the old +look which had commanded the respect and obedience of men returned to his +eye. + +"You mean my son?" he demanded. + +"Yes," said Mr. Flint; "they tell me that when the time comes, your, son +will be a candidate on a platform opposed to our interests." + +"Then," said Hilary, "they tell you a damned lie." + +Hilary Vane had not sworn for a quarter of a century, and yet it is to be +doubted if he ever spoke more nobly. He put his hands on the arms of his +chair and lifted himself to his feet, where he stood for a moment, a tell +figure to be remembered. Mr. Flint remembered it for many years. Hilary +Vane's long coat was open, and seemed in itself to express this strange +and new-found vigour in its flowing lines; his head was thrown back, and +a look on his face which Mr. Flint had never seen there. He drew from an +inner pocket a long envelope, and his hand trembled, though with seeming +eagerness, as he held it out to Mr. Flint. + +"Here!" he said. + +What's this?" asked Mr. Flint. He evinced no desire to take it, but +Hilary pressed it on him. + +"My resignation as counsel for your road." + +The president of the Northeastern, bewildered by this sudden +transformation, stared at the envelope. + +"What? Now--to-day?" he said. + +"No," answered Hilary; "read it. You'll see it takes effect the day +after the State convention. I'm not much use any more you've done your +best to bring that home to me, and you'll need a new man to do--the kind +of work I've been doing for you for twenty-five years. But you can't get +a new man in a day, and I said I'd stay with you, and I keep my word. +I'll go to the convention; I'll do my best for you, as I always have. +But I don't like it, and after that I'm through. After that I become a +lawyer--lawyer, do you understand?" + +"A lawyer?" Mr. Flint repeated. + +"Yes, a lawyer. Ever since last June, when I came up here, I've realized +what I was. A Brush Bascom, with a better education and more brains, but +a Brush Bascom--with the brains prostituted. While things were going +along smoothly I didn't know--you never attempted to talk to me this way +before. Do you remember how you took hold of me that day, and begged me +to stay? I do, and I stayed. Why? Because I was a friend of yours. +Association with you for twenty-five years had got under my skin, and I +thought it had got under yours." Hilary let his hand fall. "To-day +you've given me a notion of what friendship is. You've given me a chance +to estimate myself on a new basis, and I'm much obliged to you for that. +I haven't got many years left, but I'm glad to have found out what my +life has been worth before I die." + +He buttoned up his coat slowly, glaring at Mr. Flint the while with a +courage and a defiance that were superb. And he had picked up his hat +before Mr. Flint found his tongue. + +"You don't mean that, Vane," he cried. "My God, think what you've said!" + +Hilary pointed at the desk with a shaking finger. + +"If that were a scaffold, and a rope were around my neck, I'd say it over +again. And I thank God I've had a chance to say it to you." He paused, +cleared his throat, and continued in a voice that all at once had become +unemotional and natural. "I've three tin boxes of the private papers you +wanted. I didn't think of 'em to-day, but I'll bring 'em up to you +myself on Thursday." + +Mr. Flint reflected afterwards that what made him helpless must have been +the sudden change in Hilary's manner to the commonplace. The president +of the Northeastern stood where he was, holding the envelope in his hand, +apparently without the power to move or speak. He watched the tall form +of his chief counsel go through the doorway, and something told him that +that exit was coincident with the end of an era. + +The end of an era of fraud, of self-deception, of conditions that +violated every sacred principle of free government which men had shed +blood to obtain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +AN ADVENTURE OF VICTORIA'S + +Mrs. Pomfret was a proud woman, for she had at last obtained the consent +of the lion to attend a lunch party. She would have liked a dinner much +better, but beggars are not choosers, and she seized eagerly on the +lunch. The two days before the convention Mr. Crewe was to spend at +Leith; having continual conferences, of course, receiving delegations, +and discussing with prominent citizens certain offices which would be in +his gift when he became governor. Also, there was Mr. Watling's +nominating speech to be gone over carefully, and Mr. Crewe's own speech +of acceptance to be composed. He had it in his mind, and he had decided +that it should have two qualities: it should be brief and forceful. + +Gratitude, however, is one of the noblest qualities of man, and a +statesman should not fail to reward his faithful workers and adherents. +As one of the chiefest of these, Mrs. Pomfret was entitled to high +consideration. Hence the candidate had consented to have a lunch given +in his honour, naming the day and the hour; and Mrs. Pomfret, believing +that a prospective governor should possess some of the perquisites of +royalty, in a rash moment submitted for his approval a list of guests. +This included two distinguished foreigners who were staying at the Leith +Inn, an Englishman and an Austrian, and an elderly lady of very +considerable social importance who was on a visit to Mrs. Pomfret. + +Mr. Crewe had graciously sanctioned the list, but took the liberty of +suggesting as an addition to it the name of Miss Victoria Flint, +explaining over the telephone to Mrs. Pomfret that he had scarcely seen +Victoria all summer, and that he wanted particularly to see her. Mrs. +Pomfret declared that she had only left out Victoria because her presence +might be awkward for both of them, but Mr. Crewe waved this aside as a +trivial and feminine objection; so Victoria was invited, and another +young man to balance the table. + +Mrs. Pomfret, as may have been surmised, was a woman of taste, and her +villa at Leith, though small, had added considerably to her reputation +for this quality. Patterson Pomfret had been a gentleman with red cheeks +and an income, who incidentally had been satisfied with both. He had +never tried to add to the income, which was large enough to pay the dues +of the clubs the lists of which he thought worthy to include his name; +large enough to pay hotel bills in London and Paris and at the baths, and +to free the servants at country houses; large enough to clothe his wife +and himself, and to teach Alice the three essentials of music, French, +and deportment. If that man is notable who has mastered one thing well, +Patterson Pomfret was a notable man: he had mastered the possibilities of +his income, and never in any year had he gone beyond it by so much as a +sole d vin blanc or a pair of red silk stockings. When he died, he left +a worthy financial successor in his wife. + +Mrs. Pomfret, knowing the income, after an exhaustive search decided upon +Leith as the place to build her villa. It must be credited to her +foresight that, when she built, she saw the future possibilities of the +place. The proper people had started it. And it must be credited to her +genius that she added to these possibilities of Leith by bringing to it +such families as she thought worthy to live in the neighbourhood-- +families which incidentally increased the value of the land. Her villa +had a decided French look, and was so amazingly trim and neat and +generally shipshape as to be fit--for only the daintiest and most +discriminating feminine occupation. The house was small, and its +metamorphosis from a plain wooden farm-house had been an achievement that +excited general admiration. Porches had been added, and a coat of +spotless white relieved by an orange striping so original that many +envied, but none dared to copy it. The striping went around the white +chimneys, along the cornice, under the windows and on the railings of the +porch: there were window boxes gay with geraniums and abundant awnings +striped white and red, to match the flowers: a high, formal hemlock hedge +hid the house from the road, through which entered a blue-stone drive +that cut the close-cropped lawn and made a circle to the doorway. Under +the great maples on the lawn were a tea-table, rugs, and wicker chairs, +and the house itself was furnished by a variety of things of a design not +to be bought in the United States of America: desks, photograph frames, +writing-sets, clocks, paperknives, flower baskets, magazine racks, +cigarette boxes, and dozens of other articles for the duplicates of which +one might have searched Fifth Avenue in vain. + +Mr. Crewe was a little late. Important matters, he said, had detained +him at the last moment, and he particularly enjoined Mrs. Pomfret's +butler to listen carefully for the telephone, and twice during lunch it +was announced that Mr. Crewe was wanted. At first he was preoccupied, +and answered absently across the table the questions of the Englishman +and the Austrian about American politics, and talked to the lady of +social prominence on his right not at all; nor to Mrs. Pomfret'--who +excused him. Being a lady of discerning qualities, however, the hostess +remarked that Mr. Crewe's eyes wandered more than once to the far end of +the oval table, where Victoria sat, and even Mrs. Pomfret could not deny +the attraction. Victoria wore a filmy gown of mauve that infinitely +became her, and a shadowy hat which, in the semi-darkness of the dining +room, was a wondrous setting for her shapely head. Twice she caught Mr. +Crewe's look upon her and returned it amusedly from under her lashes,-- +and once he could have sworn that she winked perceptibly. What fires she +kindled in his deep nature it is impossible to say. + +She had kindled other fires at her side. The tall young Englishman had +lost interest in American politics, had turned his back upon poor Alice +Pomfret, and had forgotten the world in general. Not so the Austrian, +who was on the other side of Alice, and who could not see Victoria. Mr. +Crewe, by his manner and appearance, had impressed him as a person of +importance, and he wanted to know more. Besides, he wished to improve +his English, and Alice had been told to speak French to him. By a lucky +chance, after several blind attempts, he awakened the interest of the +personality. + +"I hear you are what they call reform in America?" + +This was not the question that opened the gates. + +"I don't care much for the word," answered Mr. Crewe, shortly; "I prefer +the word progressive." + +Discourse on the word "progressive" by the Austrian almost a monologue. +But he was far from being discouraged. + +"And Mrs. Pomfret tells me they play many detestable tricks on you--yes?" + +"Tricks!" exclaimed Mr. Crewe, the memory of many recent ones being fresh +in his mind; "I should say so. Do you know what a caucus is?" + +"Caucus--caucus? It brings something to my head. Ah, I have seen a +picture of it, in some English book. A very funny picture--it is in +fun, yes?" + +"A picture?" said Mr. Crewe. "Impossible!" + +"But no," said the Austrian, earnestly, with one finger to his temples. +"It is a funny picture, I know. I cannot recall. But the word caucus I +remember. That is a droll word." + +"Perhaps, Baron," said Victoria, who had been resisting an almost +uncontrollable desire to laugh, "you have been reading 'Alice in +Wonderland.'" + +The Englishman, Beatrice Chillingham, and some others (among whom were +not Mr. Crewe and Mrs. Pomfret) gave way to an extremely pardonable +mirth, in which the good-natured baron joined. + +"Ach!" he cried. "It is so, I have seen it in 'Alice in Wonderland.'" +Here the puzzled expression returned to his face, "But they are birds, +are they not?" + +Men whose minds are on serious things are impatient of levity, and Mr. +Crewe looked at the baron: + +"No," he said, "they are not birds." + +This reply was the signal for more laughter. + +"A thousand pardons," exclaimed the baron. "It is I who am so ignorant. +You will excuse me--yes?" + +Mr. Crewe was mollified. The baron was a foreigner, he had been the +object of laughter, and Mr. Crewe's chivalrous spirit resented it. + +"What we call a caucus in the towns of this State," he said, "is a +meeting of citizens of one party to determine who their candidates shall +be. A caucus is a primary. There is a very loose primary law in this +State, purposely kept loose by the politicians of the Northeastern +Railroads, in order that they may play such tricks on decent men as they +have been playing on me." + +At this mention of the Northeastern Railroads the lady on Mr. Crewe's +right, and some other guests, gave startled glances at Victoria. They +observed with surprise that she seemed quite unmoved. + +"I'll tell you one or two of the things those railroad lobbyists have +done," said Mr. Crewe, his indignation rising with the subject, and still +addressing the baron. "They are afraid to let the people into the +caucuses, because they know I'll get the delegates. Nearly everywhere I +speak to the people, I get the delegates. The railroad politicians send +word to the town rings to hold snap caucuses' when they hear I'm coming +into a town to speak, and the local politicians give out notices only a +day before, and only to the voters they want in the caucus. In Hull the +other day, out of a population of two thousand, twenty men elected four +delegates for the railroad candidate." + +"It is corruption!" cried the baron, who had no idea who Victoria was, +and a very slim notion of what Mr. Crewe was talking about. + +"Corruption!" said Mr. Crewe. "What can you expect when a railroad owns +a State? The other day in Britain, where they elect fourteen delegates, +the editor of a weekly newspaper printed false ballots with two of my men +at the top and one at the bottom, and eleven railroad men in the middle. +Fortunately some person with sense discovered the fraud before it was too +late." + +"You don't tell me!" said the baron. + +"And every State and federal office-holder has been distributing passes +for the last three weeks." + +"Pass?" repeated the baron. "You mean they fight with the fist--so? To +distribute a pass--so," and the baron struck out at an imaginary enemy. +"It is the American language. I have read it in the prize-fight. I am +told to read the prize-fight and the base-ball game." + +Mr. Crewe thought it obviously useless to continue this conversation. + +"The railroad," said the baron, "he is the modern Machiavelli." + +"I say," Mr. Rangely, the Englishman, remarked to Victoria, "this is a +bit rough on you, you know." + +"Oh, I'm used to it," she laughed. + +"Mr. Crewe," said Mrs. Pomfret, to the table at large, "deserves +tremendous credit for the fight he has made, almost single-handed. Our +greatest need in this country is what you have in England, Mr. Rangely,-- +gentlemen in politics. Our country gentlemen, like Mr. Crewe, are now +going to assume their proper duties and responsibilities." She laid her +napkin on the table and glanced at Alice as she continued: "Humphrey, I +shall have to appoint you, as usual, the man of the house. Will you take +the gentlemen into the library?" + +Another privilege of celebrity is to throw away one's cigar, and walk out +of the smoking room if one is bored. Mr. Crewe was, in a sense, the +host. He indicated with a wave of his hand the cigars and cigarettes +which Mrs. Pomfret had provided, and stood in a thoughtful manner before +the empty fireplace, with his hands in his pockets, replying in brief +sentences to the questions of Mr. Chillingham and the others. To tell +the truth, Mr. Crewe was bringing to bear all of his extraordinary +concentration of mind upon a problem with which he had been occupied for +some years past. He was not a man, as we know, to take the important +steps of life in a hurry, although; like the truly great, he was capable +of making up his mind in a very brief period when it was necessary to +strike. He had now, after weighing the question with the consideration +which its gravity demanded, finally decided upon definite action. +Whereupon he walked out of the library, leaving the other guests to +comment as they would; or not comment at all, for all he cared. Like all +masterful men, he went direct to the thing he wanted. + +The ladies were having coffee under the maples, by the tea-table. At +some little distance from the group Beatrice Chillingham was walking with +Victoria, and it was evident that Victoria found Miss Chillingham's +remarks amusing. These were the only two in the party who did not +observe Mr. Crewe's approach. Mrs. Pomfret, when she saw the direction +which he was taking, lost the thread of her conversation, and the lady +who was visiting her wore a significant expression. + +"Victoria," said Mr. Crewe, "let's go around to the other side of the +house and look at the view." + +Victoria started and turned to him from Miss Chillingham, with the fun +still sparkling in her eyes. It was, perhaps, as well for Mr. Crewe that +he had not overheard their conversation; but this might have applied to +any man. + +"Are you sure you can spare the time?" she asked. + +Mr. Crewe looked at his watch--probably from habit. + +"I made it a point to leave the smoking room early," he replied. + +"We're flattered--aren't we, Beatrice?" + +Miss Chillingham had a turned-up nose, and a face which was apt to be +slightly freckled at this time of year; for she contemned vanity and +veils. For fear of doing her an injustice, it must be added that she was +not at all bad-looking; quite the contrary All that can be noted in this +brief space is that Beatrice Chillingham was herself. Some people +declared that she was possessed of the seven devils of her sex which Mr. +Stockton wrote about. + +"I'm flattered," she said, and walked off towards the tea-table with a +glance in which Victoria read many meanings. Mr. Crewe paid no attention +either to words, look, or departure. + +"I want to talk to you," he said. + +"You've made that very plain, at least," answered Victoria. "Why did you +pretend it was the view?" + +"Some conventionalities have to be observed, I suppose," he said. "Let's +go around there. It is a good view." + +"Don't you think this is a little--marked?" asked Victoria, surveying him +with her hands behind her back. + +"I can't help it if it is," said Mr. Crewe. "Every hour is valuable to +me, and I've got to take my chances when I get 'em. For some reason, you +haven't been down at Leith much this summer. Why didn't you telephone +me, as I asked you." + +"Because I've suddenly grown dignified, I suppose," she said. "And then, +of course, I hesitated to intrude upon such a person of importance as you +have become, Humphrey." + +"I've always got time to see you," he replied. "I always shall have. +But I appreciate your delicacy. That sort of thing counts with a man +more than most women know." + +"Then I am repaid," said Victoria, "for exercising self-control." + +"I find it always pays," declared Mr. Crewe, and he glanced at her with +distinct approval. They were skirting the house, and presently came out +upon a tiny terrace where young Ridley had made a miniature Italian +garden when the Electric dividends had increased, and from which there +was a vista of the shallows of the Blue. Here was a stone garden-seat +which Mrs. Pomfret had brought from Italy, and over which she had +quarrelled with the customs authorities. Mr. Crewe, with a wave of his +hand, signified his pleasure that they should sit, and cleared his +throat. + +"It's just as well, perhaps," he began, "that we haven't had the chance +to see each other earlier. When a man starts out upon an undertaking of +the gravest importance, wherein he stakes his reputation, an undertaking +for which he is ridiculed and reviled, he likes to have his judgment +justified. He likes to be vindicated, especially in the eyes of--people +whom he cares about. Personally, I never had any doubt that I should be +the next governor, because I knew in the beginning that I had estimated +public sentiment correctly. The man who succeeds in this world is the +man who has sagacity enough to gauge public sentiment ahead of time, and +the courage to act on his beliefs." +Victoria looked at him steadily. He was very calm, and he had one knee +crossed over the other. + +"And the sagacity," she added, "to choose his lieutenants in the fight." + +"Exactly," said Mr. Crewe. "I have always declared, Victoria, that you had +a natural aptitude for affairs." + +"I have heard my father say," she continued, still maintaining her steady +glance, "that Hamilton Tooting is one of the shrewdest politicians he has +ever known. Isn't Mr. Tooting one of your right-hand men?" + +"He could hardly be called that," Mr. Crewe replied. "In fact, I haven't +any what you might call 'right-hand men.' The large problems I have had +to decide for myself. As for Tooting, he's well enough in his way; he +understands the tricks of the politicians--he's played 'em, I guess. +He's uneducated; he's merely a worker. You see," he went on, "one great +reason why I've been so successful is because I've been practical. I've +taken materials as I've found them." + +"I see," answered Victoria, turning her head and gazing over the terrace +at the sparkling reaches of the river. She remembered the close of that +wintry afternoon in Mr. Crewe's house at the capital, and she was quite +willing to do him exact justice, and to believe that he had forgotten it +--which, indeed, was the case. + +"I want to say," he continued, "that although I have known and--ahem-- +admired you for many years, Victoria, what has struck me most forcibly in +your favour has been your open-mindedness--especially on the great +political questions this summer. I have no idea how much you know about +them, but one would naturally have expected you, on account of your +father, to be prejudiced. Sometime, when I have more leisure, I shall go +into them, fully with you. And in the meantime I'll have my secretary +send you the complete list of my speeches up to date, and I know you will +read them carefully." + +"You are very kind, Humphrey," she said. + +Absorbed in the presentation of his subject (which chanced to be +himself), Mr. Crewe did not observe that her lips were parted, and that +there were little creases around her eyes. + +"And sometime," said Mr. Crewe, when all this has blown over a little, I +shall have a talk with your father. He undoubtedly understands that +there is scarcely any question of my election. He probably realizes, +too, that he has been in the--wrong, and that railroad domination must +cease--he has already made several concessions, as you know. I wish you +would tell him from me that when I am governor, I shall make it a point +to discuss the whole matter with him, and that he will find in me no foe +of corporations. Justice is what I stand for. Temperamentally, I am too +conservative, I am too much of a business man, to tamper with vested +interests." + +"I will tell him, Humphrey," said Victoria. + +Mr. Crewe coughed, and looked at his watch once, more. "And now, having +made that clear," he said, "and having only a quarter of an hour before I +have to leave to keep an appointment, I am going to take up another +subject. And I ask you to believe it is not done lightly, or without due +consideration, but as the result of some years of thought." + +Victoria turned to him seriously--and yet the creases were still around +her eyes. + +"I can well believe it, Humphrey," she answered. "But--have you time?" + +"Yes," he said, "I have learned the value of minutes." + +"But not of hours, perhaps," she replied. + +That," said Mr. Crewe, indulgently, "is a woman's point of view. A man +cannot dally through life, and your kind of woman has no use for a man +who dallies. First, I will give you my idea of a woman." + +"I am all attention," said Victoria. + +"Well," said Mr. Crewe, putting the tops of his fingers together, "she +should excel as a housewife. I haven't any use for your so-called +intellectual woman. Of course, what I mean by a housewife is something a +little less bourgeoise; she should be able to conduct an establishment +with the neatness and despatch and economy of a well-run hotel. She +should be able to seat a table instantly and accurately, giving to the +prominent guests the prestige they deserve. Nor have I any sympathy with +the notion that makes a married woman a law unto herself. She enters +voluntarily into an agreement whereby she puts herself under the control +of her husband: his interests, his career, his--" + +"Comfort?" suggested Victoria. + +"Yes, his comfort--all that comes first. And his establishment is +conducted primarily, and his guests selected, in the interests of his +fortunes. Of course, that goes without saying of a man in high place in +public life. But he must choose for his wife a woman who is equal to all +these things,--to my mind her highest achievement,--who makes the most of +the position he gives her, presides at his table and entertainments, and +reaches such people as, for any reason, he is unable to reach. I have +taken the pains to point out these things in a general way, for obvious +reasons. My greatest desire is to be fair." + +"What," asked Victoria, with her eyes on the river, "what are the wages?" + +Mr. Crewe laughed. Incidentally, he thought her profile very fine. + +"I do not believe in flattery," he said, "but I think I should add to the +qualifications personality and a sense of humour. I am quite sure I +could never live with a woman--who didn't have a sense of humour." + +"I should think it would be a little difficult," said Victoria, "to get a +woman with the qualifications you enumerate and a sense of humour thrown +in." + +"Infinitely difficult," declared Mr. Crewe, with more ardour than he had +yet shown. "I have waited a good many years, Victoria." + +"And yet," she said, "you have been happy. You have a perpetual source +of enjoyment denied to some people." + +"What is that?" he asked. It is natural for a man to like to hear the +points of his character discussed by a discerning woman. + +"Yourself," said Victoria, suddenly looking him full in the face. "You +are complete, Humphrey, as it is. You are happily married already. +Besides," she added, laughing a little, "the qualities you have +mentioned--with the exception of the sense of humour--are not those of a +wife, but of a business partner of the opposite sex. What you really +want is a business partner with something like a fifth interest, and +whose name shall not appear in the agreement." + +Mr. Crewe laughed again. Nevertheless, he was a little puzzled over this +remark. + +"I am not sentimental," he began. + +"You certainly are not," she said. + +"You have a way," he replied, with a shade of reproof in his voice, "you +have a way at times of treating serious things with a little less gravity +than they deserve. I am still a young man, but I have seen a good deal +of life, and I know myself pretty well. It is necessary to treat +matrimony from a practical as well as a sentimental point of view. There +wouldn't be half the unhappiness and divorces if people took time to do +this, instead of rushing off and getting married immediately. And of +course it is especially important for a man in my position to study every +aspect of the problem before he takes a step." + +By this time a deep and absorbing interest in a new aspect of Mr. Crewe's +character had taken possession of Victoria. + +"And you believe that, by taking thought, you can get the kind of a wife +you want?" she asked. + +"Certainly," he replied; "does that strike you as strange?" + +"A little," said Victoria. "Suppose," she added gently, "suppose that +the kind of wife you'd want wouldn't want you?" + +Mr. Crewe laughed again. + +"That is a contingency which a strong man does not take into +consideration," he answered. "Strong men get what they want. But upon +my word, Victoria, you have a delicious way of putting things. In your +presence I quite forget the problems and perplexities which beset me. +That," he said, with delicate meaning, "that is another quality I should +desire in a woman." + +"It is one, fortunately, that isn't marketable," she said, "and it's the +only quality you've mentioned that's worth anything." + +"A woman's valuation," said Mr. Crewe. + +"If it made you forget your own affairs, it would be priceless." + +"Look here, Victoria," cried Mr. Crewe, uncrossing his knees, "joking's +all very well, but I haven't time for it to-day. And I'm in a serious +mood. I've told you what I want, and now that I've got to go in a few +minutes, I'll come to the point. I don't suppose a man could pay a woman +a higher compliment than to say that his proposal was the result of some +years of thought and study." + +Here Victoria laughed outright, but grew serious again at once. + +"Unless he proposed to her the day he met her. That would be a real +compliment." + +"The man," said Mr. Crewe, impatiently, "would be a fool." + +"Or else a person of extreme discernment," said Victoria. "And love is +lenient with fools. By the way, Humphrey, it has just occurred to me +that there's one quality which some people think necessary in a wife, +which you didn't mention." + +"What's that?" + +"Love," said Victoria. + +"Love, of course," he agreed; "I took that for granted." + +"I supposed you did," said Victoria, meekly. + +"Well, now, to come to the point--" he began again. + +But she interrupted him by glancing at the watch on her gown, and rising. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, with some annoyance. + +"The fifteen minutes are up," she announced. "I cannot take the +responsibility of detaining you." + +"We will put in tantalizing as another attractive quality," he laughed. +"I absolve you of all responsibility. Sit down." + +"I believe you mentioned obedience," she answered, and sat down again at +the end of the bench, resting her chin on her gloved hand, and looking at +him. By this time her glances seemed to have gained a visibly disturbing +effect. He moved a little nearer to her, took off his hat (which he had +hitherto neglected to do), and thrust his hands abruptly into his +pockets--as much as to say that he would not be responsible for their +movements if they were less free. + +"Hang it all, Victoria," he exclaimed, "I'm a practical man, and I try to +look at this, which is one of the serious things in life, in a practical +way." + +"One of the serious things," she repeated, as though to herself. + +"Yes," he said, "certainly." + +"I merely asked to be sure of the weight you gave it. Go on." + +"In a practical way, as I was saying. Long ago I suspected that you had +most of those qualities." + +"I'm overwhelmed, Humphrey," she cried, with her eyes dancing. "But--do +you think I could cultivate the rest?" + +"Oh, well," said Mr. Crewe, I put it that way because no woman is +perfect, and I dislike superlatives." + +"I should think superlatives would be very hard to live with," she +reflected. "But--dreadful thought!--suppose I should lack an essential?" + +"What--for instance?" + +"Love--for instance. But then you did not put it first. It was I who +mentioned it, and you who took it for granted." + +"Affection seems to be a more sensible term for it," he said. "Affection +is the lasting and sensible thing. You mentioned a partnership, a word +that singularly fits into my notion of marriage. I want to be honest +with you, and understate my feelings on that subject." + +Victoria, who had been regarding him with a curious look that puzzled +him, laughed again. + +"I have been hoping you haven't exaggerated them," she replied. + +"They're stronger than you think," he declared. "I never felt this way +in my life before. What I meant to say was, that I never understood +running away with a woman." + +"That does not surprise me," said Victoria. + +"I shouldn't know where to run to," he proclaimed. + +"Perhaps the woman would, if you got a clever one. At any rate, it +wouldn't matter. One place is as good as another. Some go to Niagara, +and some to Coney Island, and others to Venice. Personally, I should +have no particular preference." + +"No preference!" he exclaimed. + +"I could be happy in Central Park," she declared. + +"Fortunately," said Mr. Crewe, "you will never be called upon to make the +trial." + +Victoria was silent. Her thoughts, for the moment, had flown elsewhere, +but Mr. Crewe did not appear to notice this. He fell back into the +rounded hollow of the bench, and it occurred to him that he had never +quite realized that profile. And what an ornament she would be to his +table. + +"I think, Humphrey," she said, "that we should be going back." + +"One moment, and I'll have finished," he cried. "I've no doubt you are +prepared for what I am going to say. I have purposely led up to it, in +order that there might be no misunderstanding. In short, I have never +seen another woman with personal characteristics so well suited for my +life, and I want you to marry me, Victoria. I can offer you the position +of the wife of a man with a public career--for which you are so well +fitted." + +Victoria shook her head slowly, and smiled at him. + +"I couldn't fill the position," she said. + +"Perhaps," he replied, smiling back at her, "perhaps I am the best judge +of that." + +"And you thought," she asked slowly, "that I was that kind of a woman?" + +"I know it to be a practical certainty," said Mr. Crewe. + +"Practical certainties," said Victoria, "are not always truths. If I +should sign a contract, which I suppose, as a business man, you would +want, to live up to the letter of your specifications,--even then I could +not do it. I should make life a torture for you, Humphrey. You see, I +am honest with you, too--much as your offer dazzles me." And she shook +her head again. + +"That," exclaimed Mr. Crewe, impatiently, "is sheer nonsense. I want +you, and I mean to have you." + +There came a look into her eyes which Mr. Crewe did not see, because her +face was turned from him. + +"I could be happy," she said, "for days and weeks and years in a but on +the side of Sawanec. I could be happy in a farm-house where I had to do +all the work. I am not the model housewife which your imagination +depicts, Humphrey. I could live in two rooms and eat at an Italian +restaurant--with the right man. And I am afraid the wrong one would wake +up one day and discover that I had gone. I am sorry to disillusionize +you, but I don't care a fig for balls and garden-parties and salons. It +would be much more fun to run away from them to the queer places of the +earth--with the right man. And I should have to possess one essential to +put up with--greatness and what you call a public career." + +"And what is that essential?" he asked. + +"Love," said Victoria. He heard the word but faintly, for her face was +still turned away from him. "You've offered me the things that are +attainable by taking thought, by perseverance, by pertinacity, by the +outwitting of your fellow-men, by the stacking of coins. And I want--the +unattainable, the divine gift which is bestowed, which cannot be +acquired. If it could be acquired, Humphrey," she added, looking at him, +"I am sure you would acquire it--if you thought it worth while." + +"I don't understand you," he said,--and looked it. + +"No," said Victoria, "I was afraid you wouldn't. And moreover, you never +would. There is no use in my trying to make myself any clearer, and +you'll have to keep your appointment. I hesitate to contradict you, but +I am not the kind of woman you want. That is one reason I cannot marry +you. And the other is, that I do not love you." + +"You can't be in love with any one else?" he cried. + +"That does seem rather preposterous, I'll admit," she answered. "But if I +were, it wouldn't make any difference." + +"You won't marry me?" he said, getting to his feet. There was +incredulity in his voice, and a certain amount of bewilderment. The +thing was indeed incredible! + +"No," said Victoria, "I won't." + +And he had only to look into her face to see that it was so. Hitherto +nil desperandum had been a good working motto, but something told him it +was useless in this case. He thrust on his hat and pulled out his watch. + +"Well," he said, "that settles it. I must--say I can't see your point of +view--but that settles it. I must say, too, that your refusal is +something of a shock after what I had been led to expect after the past +few years." + +"The person you are in love with led you to expect it, Humphrey, and that +person is--yourself. You are in love temporarily with your own ideal of +me." + +"And your refusal comes at an unfortunate tune for me," he continued, not +heeding her words, "when I have an affair on my hands of such magnitude, +which requires concentrated thought. But I'm not a man to cry, and I'll +make the best of it." + +"If I thought it were more than a temporary disappointment, I should be +sorry for you," said Victoria. "I remember that you felt something like +this when Mr. Rutter wouldn't sell you his land. The lady you really +want," she added, pointing with her parasol at the house, "is in there, +waiting for you." + +Mr. Crewe did not reply to this prophecy, but followed Victoria around +the house to the group on the lawn, where he bade his hostess a somewhat +preoccupied farewell, and bowed distantly to the guests. + +"He has so much on his mind," said Mrs. Pomfret. "And oh, I quite +forgot--Humphrey!" she cried, calling after him, "Humphrey!" + +"Yes," he said, turning before he reached his automobile. "What is it?" + +"Alice and I are going to the convention, you know, and I meant to tell +you that there would be ten in the party--but I didn't have a chance." +Here Mrs. Pomfret glanced at Victoria, who had been joined at once by the +tall Englishman. "Can you get tickets for ten?" + +Mr. Crewe made a memorandum. + +"Yes," he said, "I'll get the tickets--but I don't see what you want to +go for." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MORE ADVENTURER + +Victoria had not, of course, confided in Beatrice Chillingham what had +occurred in the garden, although that lady had exhibited the liveliest +interest, and had had her suspicions. After Mr. Crewe's departure Mr. +Rangely, the tall young Englishman, had renewed his attentions +assiduously, although during the interval in the garden he had found Miss +Chillingham a person of discernment. + +"She's not going to marry that chap, is she, Miss Chillingham?" he had +asked. + +"No," said Beatrice; "you have my word for it, she isn't." + +As she was leaving, Mrs. Pomfret had taken Victoria's hand and drawn her +aside, and looked into her face with a meaning smile. + +"My dear!" she exclaimed, "he particularly asked that you be invited." + +"Who?" said Victoria. + +"Humphrey. He stipulated that you should be here." + +"Then I'm very much obliged to him," said Victoria, "for I've enjoyed +myself immensely. I like your Englishman so much." + +"Do you?" said Mrs. Pomfret, searching Victoria's face, while her own +brightened. "He's heir to one of the really good titles, and he has an +income of his own. I couldn't put him up here, in this tiny box, because +I have Mrs. Fronde. We are going to take him to the convention--and if +you'd care to go, Victoria--?" + +Victoria laughed. + +"It isn't as serious as that," she said. "And I'm afraid I can't go to +the convention--I have some things to do in the neighbourhood." + +Mrs. Pomfret looked wise. + +"He's a most attractive man, with the best prospects. It would be a +splendid match for you, Victoria." + +"Mrs. Pomfret," replied Victoria, wavering between amusement and a desire +to be serious, "I haven't the slightest intention of making what you call +a 'match.'" And there was in her words a ring of truth not to be +mistaken. + +Mrs. Pomfret kissed her. + +"One never can tell what may happen," she said. "Think of him, Victoria. +And your dear mother--perhaps you will know some day what the +responsibility is of seeing a daughter well placed in life." + +Victoria coloured, and withdrew her hand. + +"I fear that time is a long way off, Mrs. Pomfret," she replied. + +"I think so much of Victoria," Mrs. Pomfret declared a moment later to +her guest; "she's like my own daughter. But at times she's so hopelessly +unconventional. Why, I believe Rangely's actually going home with her." + +"He asked her to drop him at the Inn," said Mrs. Fronde. "He's head over +heels in love already." + +"It would be such a relief to dear Rose," sighed Mrs. Pomfret. + +"I like the girl," replied Mrs. Fronde, dryly. "She has individuality, +and knows her own mind. Whoever she marries will have something to him." + +"I devoutly hope so!" said Mrs. Pomfret. + +It was quite true that Mr. Arthur Rangely had asked Victoria to drop him +at the Inn. But when they reached it he made another request. + +"Do you mind if I go a bit farther, Miss Flint?" he suggested. "I'd +rather like the walk back." + +Victoria laughed. + +"Do come," she said. + +He admired the country, but he looked at Victoria, and asked a hundred +exceedingly frank questions about Leith, about Mrs. Pomfret, whom he had +met at his uncle's seat in Devonshire, and about Mr. Crewe and the +railroads in politics. Many of these Victoria parried, and she came +rapidly to the conclusion that Mr. Arthur Rangely was a more astute +person than--to a casual observer he would seem. + +He showed no inclination to fix the limits of his walk, and made no +protest as she drove under the stone archway at the entrance of Fairview. +Victoria was amused and interested, and she decided that she liked Mr. +Rangely. + +"Will you come up for tea?" she asked. "I'll send you home." + +He accepted with alacrity. They had reached the first turn when their +attention was caught by the sight of a buggy ahead of them, and facing +towards them. The horse, with the reins hanging loosely over the shafts, +had strayed to the side of the driveway and was contentedly eating the +shrubbery that lined it. Inside the vehicle, hunched up in the corner of +the seat, was a man who presented an appearance of helplessness which +struck them both with a sobering effect. + +"Is the fellow drunk?" said Mr. Rangely. + +Victoria's answer was a little cry which startled him, and drew his look +to her. She had touched her horse with the whip, and her eyes had +widened in real alarm. + +"It's Hilary Vane!" she exclaimed. "I--I wonder what can have happened!" + +She handed the reins to Mr. Rangely, and sprang out and flew to Hilary's +side. + +"Mr. Vane!" she cried. "What's the matter? Are you ill?" + +She had never seen him look so. To her he had always been as one on whom +pity would be wasted, as one who long ago had established his credit with +the universe to his own satisfaction. But now, suddenly, intense pity +welled up within her, and even in that moment she wondered if it could be +because he was Austen's father. His hands were at his sides, his head +was fallen forward a little, and his face was white. But his eyes +frightened her most; instead of the old, semi-defiant expression which +she remembered from childhood, they had in them a dumb suffering that +went to her heart. He looked at her, tried to straighten up, and fell +back again. + +"N--nothing's the matter," he said, "nothing. A little spell. I'll be +all right in a moment." + +Victoria did not lose an instant, but climbed into the buggy at his side +and gathered up the reins, and drew the fallen lap-robe over his knees. + +"I'm going to take you back to Fairview," she said. "And we'll telephone +for a doctor." + +But she had underrated the amount of will left in him. He did not move, +though indeed if he had seized the reins from her hands, he could have +given her no greater effect of surprise. Life came back into the eyes at +the summons, and dominance into the voice, although he breathed heavily. + +"No, you're not," he said; "no, you're not. I'm going to Ripton--do you +understand? I'll be all right in a minute, and I'll take the lines." + +Victoria, when she got over her astonishment at this, reflected quickly. +She glanced at him, and the light of his expression was already fading. +There was some reason why he did not wish to go back to Fairview, and +common sense told her that agitation was not good for him; besides, they +would have to telephone to Ripton for a physician, and it was quicker to +drive there. Quicker to drive in her own runabout, did she dare to try +to move him into it. She made up her mind. + +"Please follow on behind with that trap," she called out to Rangely; "I'm +going to Ripton." + +He nodded understandingly, admiringly, and Victoria started Hilary's +horse out of the bushes towards the entrance way. From time to time she +let her eyes rest upon him anxiously. + +"Are you comfortable?" she asked. + +"Yes," he said, "yes. I'm all right. I'll be able to drive in a +minute." + +But the minutes passed, and he made no attempt to take the reins. +Victoria had drawn the whalebone whip from its socket, and was urging on +the horse as fast as humanity would permit; and the while she was aware +that Hilary's look was fixed upon her--in fact, never left her. Once or +twice, in spite of her anxiety to get him home, Victoria blushed faintly, +as she wondered what he was thinking about. + +And all the while she asked herself what it was that had brought him to +this condition. Victoria knew sufficient of life and had visited +hospitals enough to understand that mental causes were generally +responsible for such breakdowns--Hilary had had a shock. She remembered +how in her childhood he had been the object of her particular animosity; +how she used to put out her tongue at him, and imitate his manner, and +how he had never made the slightest attempt to conciliate her; most +people of this sort are sensitive to the instincts of children; but +Hilary had not been. She remembered--how long ago it seemed now!--the +day she had given him, in deviltry, the clipping about Austen shooting +Mr. Blodgett. + +The Hilary Vane who sat beside her to-day was not the same man. It was +unaccountable, but he was not. Nor could this changed estimate of him be +attributed to her regard for Austen, for she recalled a day only a few +months since--in June--when he had come up to Fairview and she was +standing on the lawn, and she had looked at him without recognition; she +had not, then, been able to bring herself to bow to him; to her childhood +distaste had been added the deeper resentment of Austen's wrongs. Her +early instincts about Hilary had been vindicated, for he had treated his +son abominably and driven Austen from his mother's home. To +misunderstand and maltreat Austen Vane, of all people Austen, whose +consideration for his father had been what it had! Could it be that +Hilary felt remorse? Could it be that he loved Austen in some peculiar +manner all his own? + +Victoria knew now--so strangely--that the man beside her was capable of +love, and she had never felt that way about Hilary Vane. And her mind +was confused, and her heart was troubled and wrung. Insight flashed upon +her of the terrible loneliness of a life surrounded by outstretched, +loving arms to which one could not fly; scenes from a famous classic she +had read with a favourite teacher at school came to her, and she knew +that she was the witness of a retribution, of a suffering beyond +conception of a soul prepared for suffering,--not physical suffering, but +of that torture which is the meaning of hell. + +However, there was physical suffering. It came and went, and at such +moments she saw the traces of it in the tightening of his lips, and +longed with womanly intuition to alleviate it. She had not spoken-- +although she could have cried aloud; she knew not what to say. And then +suddenly she reached out and touched his hand. Nor could she have +accounted for the action. + +"Are you in much pain?" she asked. + +She felt him tremble. + +"No," he said; "it's only a spell--I've had 'em before. I--I can drive +in a few minutes." + +"And do you think," she asked, "that I would allow you to go the rest of +the way alone?" + +"I guess I ought to thank you for comin' with me," he said. + +Victoria looked at him and smiled. And it was an illuminating smile for +her as well as for Hilary. Suddenly, by that strange power of sympathy +which the unselfish possess, she understood the man, understood Austen's +patience with him and affection for him. Suddenly she had pierced the +hard layers of the outer shell, and had heard the imprisoned spirit +crying with a small persistent voice,--a spirit stifled for many years +and starved--and yet it lived and struggled still. + +Yes, and that spirit itself must have felt her own reaching out to it-- +who can, say? And how it must have striven again for utterance + +"It was good of you to come," he said. + +"It was only common humanity," she answered, touching the horse. + +"Common humanity," he repeated. "You'd have done it for anybody along +the road, would you?" + +At this remark, so characteristic of Hilary, Victoria, hesitated. She +understood it now. And yet she hesitated to give him an answer that was +hypocritical. + +"I have known you all my life, Mr. Vane, and you are a very old friend of +my father's." + +"Old," he repeated, "yes, that's it. I'm ready for the scrap-heap-- +better have let me lie, Victoria." + +Victoria started. A new surmise had occurred to her upon which she did +not like to dwell. + +"You have worked too hard, Mr. Vane--you need a rest. And I have been +telling father that, too. You both need a rest." + +He shook his head. + +"I'll never get it," he said. "Stopping work won't give it to me." + +She pondered on these words as she guided the horse over a crossing. And +all that Austen had said to her, all that she had been thinking of for a +year past, helped her to grasp their meaning. But she wondered still +more at the communion which, all at once, had been established between +Hilary Vane and herself, and why he was saying these things to her. It +was all so unreal and inexplicable. + +"I can imagine that people who have worked hard all their lives must feel +that way," she answered, though her voice was not as steady as she could +have wished. "You--you have so much to live for." + +Her colour rose. She was thinking of Austen--and she knew that Hilary +Vane knew that she was thinking of Austen. Moreover, she had suddenly +grasped the fact that the gentle but persistently strong influence of the +son's character had brought about the change in the father. Hilary +Vane's lips closed again, as in pain, and she divined the reason. + +Victoria knew the house in Hanover Street, with its classic porch, with +its certain air of distinction and stability, and long before she had +known it as the Austen residence she remembered wondering who lived in +it. The house had individuality, and (looked at from the front) almost +perfect proportions; consciously--it bespoke the gentility of its +builders. Now she drew up before it and called to Mr. Rangely, who was +abreast, to tie his horse and ring the bell. Hilary was already feeling +with his foot for the step of the buggy. + +"I'm all right," he insisted; "I can manage now," but Victoria seized his +arm with a firm, detaining hand. + +"Please wait,--Mr. Vane," she pleaded. + +But the feeling of shame at his helplessness was strong. + +"It's over now. I--I can walk. I'm much obliged to you, Victoria--much +obliged." + +Fortunately Hilary's horse showed no inclination to go any farther--even +to the stable. And Victoria held on to his arm. He ceased to protest, +and Mr. Rangely quickly tied the other horse and came to Victoria's aid. +Supported by the young Englishman, Hilary climbed the stone steps and +reached the porch, declaring all the while that he needed no assistance, +and could walk alone. Victoria rang the bell, and after an interval the +door was opened by Euphrasia Cotton. + +Euphrasia stood upright with her hand on the knob, and her eyes flashed +over the group and rested fixedly on the daughter of Mr. Flint. + +"Mr. Vane was not very well," Victoria explained, "and we came home with +him." + +"I'm all right," said Hilary, once more, and to prove it he stepped--not +very steadily--across the threshold into the hall, and sat down on a +chair which had had its place at the foot of the stairs from time +immemorial. Euphrasia stood still. + +"I think," said Victoria, "that Mr. Vane had better see a doctor. Have +you a telephone?" + +"No, we haven't," said Euphrasia. + +Victoria turned to Mr. Rangely, who had been a deeply interested +spectator to this scene. + +"A little way down the street, on the other side, Dr. Tredway lives. You +will see his sign." + +"And if he isn't in, go to the hospital. It's only a few doors farther +on." + +"I'll wait," said Victoria, simply, when he had gone; "my father will +wish to know about Mr. Vane." + +"Hold on," said Hilary, "I haven't any use for a doctor--I won't see one. +I know what the trouble is, and I'm all right." + +Victoria became aware--for the first time that Hilary Vane's housekeeper +had not moved; that Euphrasia Cotton was still staring at her in a most +disconcerting manner, and was paying no attention whatever to Hilary. + +"Come in and set down," she said; and seeing Victoria glance at Hilary's +horse, she added, "Oh, he'll stand there till doomsday." + +Victoria, thinking that the situation would be less awkward, accepted the +invitation, and Euphrasia shut the door. The hall, owing to the fact +that the shutters of the windows by the stairs were always closed, was in +semidarkness. Victoria longed to let in the light, to take this strange, +dried-up housekeeper and shake her into some semblance of natural +feeling. And this was Austen's home! It was to this house, made gloomy +by these people, that he had returned every night! Infinitely depressed, +she felt that she must take some action, or cry aloud. + +"Mr. Vane," she said, laying a hand upon his shoulder, "I think you +ought, at least, to lie down for a little while. Isn't there a sofa in-- +in the parlour?" she asked Euphrasia. + +"You can't get him to do anything," Euphrasia replied, with decision; +"he'll die some day for want of a little common sense. I shouldn't +wonder if he was took on soon." + +"Oh!" cried Victoria. She could think of no words to answer this remark. + +"It wouldn't surprise me," Euphrasia continued. "He fell down the stairs +here not long ago, and went right on about his business. He's never paid +any attention to anybody, and I guess it's a mite late to expect him to +begin now. Won't you set down?" + +There was another chair against the low wainscoting, and Victoria drew it +over beside Hilary and sat down in it. He did not seem to notice the +action, and Euphrasia continued to stand. Standing seemed to be the +natural posture of this remarkable woman, Victoria thought--a posture of +vigilance, of defiance. A clock of one of the Austen grandfathers stood +obscurely at the back of the hall, and the measured swing of its pendulum +was all that broke the silence. This was Austen's home. It seemed +impossible for her to realize that he could be the product of this +environment--until a portrait on the opposite wall, above the stairs, +came out of the gloom and caught her eye like the glow of light. At +first, becoming aware of it with a start, she thought it a likeness of +Austen himself. Then she saw that the hair was longer, and more wavy +than his, and fell down a little over the velvet collar of a coat with a +wide lapel and brass buttons, and that the original of this portrait had +worn a stock. The face had not quite the strength of Austen's, she +thought, but a wondrous sweetness and intellect shone from it, like an +expression she had seen on his face. The chin rested on the hand, an +intellectual hand,--and the portrait brought to her mind that of a young +English statesman she had seen in the National Gallery in London. + +"That's Channing Austen,--he was minister to Spain." + +Victoria started. It was Euphrasia who was speaking, and unmistakable +pride was in her voice. + +Fortunately for Victoria, who would not in the least have known what to +reply, steps were heard on the porch, and Euphrasia opened the door. Mr. +Rangely had returned. + +"Here's the doctor, Miss Flint," he said, "and I'll wait for you +outside." + +Victoria rose as young Dr. Tredway came forward. They were old friends, +and the doctor, it may be recalled, had been chiefly responsible for the +preservation of the life of Mr. Zebulun Meader. + +"I have sent for you, Doctor," she said, "against instructions and on my +own responsibility. Mr. Vane is ill, although he refuses to admit it." + +Dr. Tredway had a respect for Victoria and her opinions, and he knew +Hilary. He opened the door a little wider, and looked critically at Mr. +Vane. + +"It's nothing but a spell," Hilary insisted. "I've had 'em before. I +suppose it's natural that they should scare the women-folks some." + +"What kind of a spell was it, Mr. Vane?" asked the doctor. + +"It isn't worth talking about," said Hilary. "You might as well pick up +that case of yours and go home again. I'm going down to the square in a +little while." + +"You see," Euphrasia put in, "he's made up his mind to kill himself." + +"Perhaps," said the doctor, smiling a little, "Mr. Vane wouldn't object +to Miss Flint telling me what happened." + +Victoria glanced at the doctor and hesitated. Her sympathy for Hilary, +her new understanding of him, urged her on--and yet never in her life had +she been made to feel so distinctly an intruder. Here was the doctor, +with his case; here was this extraordinary housekeeper, apparently ready +to let Hilary walk to the square, if he wished, and to shut the door on +their backs; and here was Hilary himself, who threatened at any moment to +make his word good and depart from their midst. Only the fact that she +was convinced that Hilary was in real danger made her relate, in a few +brief words, what had occurred, and when she had finished Mr. Vane made +no comment whatever. + +Dr. Tredway turned to Hilary. + +"I am going to take a mean advantage of you, Mr. Vane," he said, "and sit +here awhile and talk to yon. Would you object to waiting a little while, +Miss Flint? I have something to say to you," he added significantly, +"and this meeting will save me a trip to Fairview." + +"Certainly I'll wait," she said. + +"You can come along with me," said Euphrasia, "if you've a notion to." + +Victoria was of two minds whether to accept this invitation. She had an +intense desire to get outside, but this was counter-balanced by a sudden +curiosity to see more of this strange woman who loved but one person in +the world. Tom Gaylord had told Victoria that. She followed Euphrasia +to the back of the hall. + +"There's the parlour," said Euphrasia; "it's never be'n used since Mrs. +Vane died,--but there it is." + +"Oh," said Victoria, with a glance into the shadowy depths of the room, +"please don't open it for me. Can't we go," she added, with an +inspiration, "can't we go into--the kitchen?" She knew it was +Euphrasia's place. + +"Well," said Euphrasia, "I shouldn't have thought you'd care much about +kitchens." And she led the way onward; through the little passage, to +the room where she had spent most of her days. It was flooded with +level, yellow rays of light that seemed to be searching the corners in +vain for dust. Victoria paused in the doorway. + +"I'm afraid you do me an injustice," she said. "I like some kitchens." + +"You don't look as if you knew much about 'em," was Euphrasia's answer. +With Victoria once again in the light, Euphrasia scrutinized her with +appalling frankness, taking in every detail of her costume and at length +raising her eyes to the girl's face. Victoria coloured. On her visits +about the country-side she had met women of Euphrasia's type before, and +had long ago ceased to be dismayed by their manner. But her instinct +detected in Euphrasia a hostility for which she could not account. + +In that simple but exquisite gown which so subtly suited her, the +creation of which had aroused the artist in a celebrated Parisian +dressmaker, Victoria was, indeed, a strange visitant in that kitchen. +She took a seat by the window, and an involuntary exclamation of pleasure +escaped her as her eyes fell upon the little, old-fashioned flower garden +beneath it. The act and the exclamation for the moment disarmed +Euphrasia. + +"They were Sarah Austen's--Mrs. Vane's," she explained, "just as she +planted them the year she died. I've always kept 'em just so." + +"Mrs. Vane must have loved flowers," said Victoria. + +"Loved 'em! They were everything to her--and the wild flowers, too. She +used to wander off and spend whole days in the country, and come back +after sunset with her arms full." + +"It was nature she loved," said Victoria, in a low voice. + +"That was it--nature," said Euphrasia. "She loved all nature. There +wasn't a living, creeping thing that wasn't her friend. I've seen birds +eat out of her hand in that window where you're settin', and she'd say to +me, 'Phrasie, keep still! They'd love you, too, if they only knew you, +but they're afraid you'll scrub 'em if you get hold of them, the way you +used to scrub me.'" + +Victoria smiled--but it was a smile that had tears in it. Euphrasia +Cotton was standing in the shaft of sunlight at the other window, staring +at the little garden. + +"Yes, she used to say funny things like that, to make you laugh when you +were all ready to cry. There wasn't many folks understood her. She knew +every path and hilltop within miles of here, and every brook and spring, +and she used to talk about that mountain just as if it was alive." + +Victoria caught her breath. + +"Yes," continued Euphrasia, "the mountain was alive for her. 'He's angry +to-day, Phrasie. That's because, you lost your temper and scolded +Hilary.' It's a queer thing, but there have been hundreds of times since +when he needed scoldin' bad, and I've looked at the mountain and held my +tongue. It was just as if I saw her with that half-whimsical, half- +reproachful expression in her eyes, holding up her finger at me. And +there were other mornings when she'd say, 'The mountain's lonesome today, +he wants me.' And I vow, I'd look at the mountain and it would seem +lonesome. That sounds like nonsense, don't it?" Euphrasia demanded, with +a sudden sharpness. + +"No," said Victoria, "it seems very real to me." + +The simplicity, the very ring of truth, and above all the absolute lack +of self-consciousness in the girl's answer sustained the spell. + +"She'd go when the mountain called her, it didn't make any difference +whether it was raining--rain never appeared to do her any hurt. Nothin' +natural ever did her any hurt. When she was a little child flittin' +about like a wild creature, and she'd come in drenched to the skin, it +was all I could do to catch her and change her clothes. She'd laugh at +me. 'We're meant to be wet once in a while, Phrasie,' she'd say; 'that's +what the rain's for, to wet us. It washes some of the wickedness out of +us.' It was the unnatural things that hurt her--the unkind words and +makin' her act against her nature. 'Phrasie,' she said once, 'I can't +pray in the meeting-house with my eyes shut--I can't, I can't. I seem to +know what they're all wishing for when they pray,--for more riches, and +more comfort, and more security, and more importance. And God is such a +long way off. I can't feel Him, and the pew hurts my back.' She used to +read me some, out of a book of poetry, and one verse I got by heart--I +guess her prayers were like that." + +"Do you--remember the verse?" asked Victoria. + +Euphrasia went to a little shelf in the corner of the kitchen and +produced a book, which, she opened and handed to Victoria. + +"There's the verse!" she said; "read it aloud. I guess you're better at +that than I am." + +And Victoria read:-- + + "Higher still and higher + From the earth thou springest + Like a cloud of fire; + The blue deep thou wingest, + And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest." + +Victoria let fall the volume on her lap. + +"There's another verse in that book she liked," said Euphrasia, "but it +always was sad to me." + +Victoria took the book, and read again:-- + + "Weary wind, who wanderest + Like the world's rejected guest, + Hast thou still some secret nest + On the tree or billow?" + +Euphrasia laid the volume tenderly on the shelf, and turned and faced +Victoria. + +"She was unhappy like that before she died," she exclaimed, and added, +with a fling of her head towards the front of the house, "he killed +her." + +"Oh, no!" cried Victoria, involuntarily rising to her feet. "Oh, no! +I'm sure he didn't mean to. He didn't understand her!" + +"He killed her," Euphrasia repeated. "Why didn't he understand her? She +was just as simple as a child, and just as trusting, and just as loving. +He made her unhappy, and now he's driven her son out of her house, and +made him unhappy. He's all of her I have left, and I won't see him +unhappy." + +Victoria summoned her courage. + +"Don't you think," she asked bravely, "that Mr. Austen Vane ought to be +told that his father is--in this condition?" + +"No," said Euphrasia, determinedly. "Hilary will have to send for him. +This time it'll be Austen's victory." + +"But hasn't he had--a victory?" Victoria persisted earnestly. "Isn't +this--victory enough?" + +"What do you mean?" Euphrasia cried sharply. + +"I mean," she answered, in a low voice, "I mean that Mr. Vane's son is +responsible for his condition to-day. Oh--not consciously so. But the +cause of this trouble is mental--can't you see it? The cause of this +trouble is remorse. Can't you see that it has eaten into his soul? Do +you wish a greater victory than this, or a sadder one? Hilary Vane will +not ask for his son--because he cannot. He has no more power to send +that message than a man shipwrecked on an island. He can only give +signals of distress--that some may heed. Would She have waited for such +a victory as you demand? And does Austen Vane desire it? Don't you +think that he would come to his father if he knew? And have you any +right to keep the news from him? Have you any right to decide what their +vengeance shall be?" + +Euphrasia had stood mute as she listened to these words which she had so +little expected, but her eyes flashed and her breath came quickly. Never +had she been so spoken to! Never had any living soul come between her +and her cherished object the breaking of the heart of Hilary Vane! Nor, +indeed, had that object ever been so plainly set forth as Victoria had +set it forth. And this woman who dared to do this had herself brought +unhappiness to Austen. Euphrasia had almost forgotten that, such had +been the strange harmony of their communion. + +"Have you the right to tell Austen?" she demanded. + +"Have I?" Victoria repeated. And then, as the full meaning of the +question came to her; the colour flooded into her face, and she would +have fled, if she could, bud Euphrasia's words came in a torrent. + +"You've made him unhappy, as well as Hilary. He loves you--but he +wouldn't speak of it to you. Oh, no, he didn't tell me who it was, but I +never rested till I found out. He never would have told me about it at +all, or anybody else, but that I guessed it. I saw he was unhappy, and I +calculated it wasn't Hilary alone made him so. One night he came in +here, and I knew all at once--somehow--there was a woman to blame, and I +asked him, and he couldn't lie to me. He said it wasn't anybody's fault +but his own--he wouldn't say any more than that, except that he hadn't +spoken to her. I always expected the time was coming when there would +be--a woman. And I never thought the woman lived that he'd love who +wouldn't love him. I can't see how any woman could help lovin' him. + +"And then I found out it was that railroad. It came between Sarah Austen +and her happiness, and now it's come between Austen and his. Perhaps you +don't love him!" cried Euphrasia. "Perhaps you're too rich and high and +mighty. Perhaps you're a-going to marry that fine young man who came +with you in the buggy. Since I heard who you was, I haven't had a happy +hour. Let me tell you there's no better blood in the land than the +Austen blood. I won't mention the Vanes. If you've led him on, if +you've deceived him, I hope you may be unhappy as Sarah Austen was--" + +"Don't!" pleaded Victoria; "don't! Please don't!" and she seized +Euphrasia by the arms, as though seeking by physical force to stop the +intolerable flow of words. "Oh, you don't know me; you can't understand +me if you say that. How can you be so cruel?" + +In another moment she had gone, leaving Euphrasia standing in the middle +of the floor, staring after her through the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE FOCUS OF WRATH + +Victoria, after leaving Euphrasia, made her way around the house towards +Mr. Rangely, who was waiting in the runabout, her one desire for the +moment being to escape. Before she had reached the sidewalk under the +trees, Dr. Tredway had interrupted her. + +"Miss Flint," he called out, "I wanted to say a word to you before you +went." + +"Yes," she said, stopping and turning to him. + +He paused a moment before speaking, as he looked into her face. + +"I don't wonder this has upset you a little," he said; "a reaction always +comes afterwards--even with the strongest of us." + +"I am all right," she replied, unconsciously repeating Hilary's words. +"How is Mr. Vane?" + +"You have done a splendid thing," said the doctor, gravely. And he +continued, after a moment: "It is Mr. Vane I wanted to speak to you +about. He is an intimate friend, I believe, of your father's, as well as +Mr. Flint's right-hand man in--in a business way in this State. Mr. Vane +himself will not listen to reason. I have told him plainly that if he +does not drop all business at once, the chances are ten to one that he +will forfeit his life very shortly. I understand that there is a--a +convention to be held at the capital the day after to-morrow, and that it +is Mr. Vane's firm intention to attend it. I take the liberty of +suggesting that you lay these facts before your father, as Mr. Flint +probably has more influence with Hilary Vane than any other man. +"However," he added, seeing Victoria hesitate, "if there is any reason +why you should not care to speak to Mr. Flint--" + +"Oh, no," said Victoria; "I'll speak to him, certainly. I was going to +ask you--have you thought of Mr. Austen Vane? He might be able to do +something." + +"Of course," said the doctor, after a moment, "it is an open secret that +Austen and his father have--have, in short, never agreed. They are not +now on speaking terms." + +"Don't you think," asked Victoria, summoning her courage, "that Austen +Vane ought to be told?" + +"Yes," the doctor repeated decidedly, "I am sure of it. Everybody who +knows Austen Vane as I do has the greatest admiration for him. You +probably remember him in that Meader case,--he isn't a man one would be +likely to forget,--and I know that this quarrel with his father isn't of +Austen's seeking." + +"Oughtn't he to be told--at once?" said Victoria. + +"Yes," said the doctor; "time is valuable, and we can't predict what +Hilary will do. At any rate, Austen ought to know--but the trouble is, +he's at Jenney's farm. I met him on the way out there just before your +friend the Englishman caught me. And unfortunately I have a case which I +cannot neglect. But I can send word to him." + +"I know where Jenney's farm is," said Victoria; "I'll drive home that +way." + +"Well," exclaimed Dr. Tredway, heartily, "that's good of you. Somebody +who knows Hilary's situation ought to see him, and I can think of no +better messenger than you." + +And he helped her into the runabout. + +Young Mr. Rangely being a gentleman, he refrained from asking Victoria +questions on the drive out of Ripton, and expressed the greatest +willingness to accompany her on this errand and to see her home +afterwards. He had been deeply impressed, but he felt instinctively that +after such a serious occurrence, this was not the time to continue to +give hints of his admiration. He had heard in England that many American +women whom he would be likely to meet socially were superficial and +pleasure-loving; and Arthur Rangely came of a family which had long been +cited as a vindication of a government by aristocracy,--a family which +had never shirked responsibilities. It is not too much to say that he +had pictured Victoria among his future tenantry; she had appealed to him +first as a woman, but the incident of the afternoon had revealed her to +him, as it were, under fire. + +They spoke quietly of places they both had visited, of people whom they +knew in common, until they came to the hills--the very threshold of +Paradise on that September evening. Those hills never failed to move +Victoria, and they were garnished this evening in no earthly colours,-- +rose-lighted on the billowy western pasture slopes and pearl in the deep +clefts of the streams, and the lordly form of Sawanec shrouded in indigo +against a flame of orange. And orange fainted, by the subtlest of colour +changes, to azure in which swam, so confidently, a silver evening star. + +In silence they drew up before Mr. Jenney's ancestral trees, and through +the deepening shadows beneath these the windows of the farm-house glowed +with welcoming light. At Victoria's bidding Mr. Rangely knocked to ask +for Austen Vane, and Austen himself answered the summons. He held a book +in his hand, and as Rangely spoke she saw Austen's look turn quickly to +her, and met it through the gathering gloom between them. In an instant +he was at her side, looking up questioningly into her face, and the +telltale blood leaped into hers. What must he think of her for coming +again? She could not speak of her errand too quickly. + +"Mr. Vane, I came to leave a message." + +"Yes?" he said, and glanced at the broad-shouldered, well-groomed figure +of Mr. Rangely, who was standing at a discreet distance. + +"Your father has had an attack of some kind,--please don't be alarmed, he +seems to be recovered now,--and I thought and Dr. Tredway thought you +ought to know about it. The doctor could not leave Ripton, and I offered +to come and tell you." + +"An attack?" he repeated. + +"Yes." Hilary and she related simply how she had found Hilary at +Fairview, and how she had driven him home. But, during the whole of her +recital, she could not rid herself of the apprehension that he was +thinking her interference unwarranted, her coming an indelicate +repetition of the other visit. As he stood there listening in the +gathering dusk, she could not tell from his face what he thought. His +expression, when serious, had a determined, combative, almost grim note +in it, which came from a habit he had of closing his jaw tightly; and his +eyes were like troubled skies through which there trembled an occasional +flash of light. + +Victoria had never felt his force so strongly as now, and never had he +seemed more distant; at times--she had thought--she had had glimpses of +his soul; to-night he was inscrutable, and never had she realized the +power (which she bad known he must possess) of making himself so. And to +her? Her pride forbade her recalling at that moment the confidences +which had passed between them and which now seemed to have been so +impossible. He was serious because he was listening to serious news--she +told herself. But it was more than this: he had shut himself up, he was +impenetrable. Shame seized her; yes, and anger; and shame again at the +remembrance of her talk with Euphrasia--and anger once more. Could he +think that she would make advances to tempt his honour, and risk his good +opinion and her own? + +Confidence is like a lute-string, giving forth sweet sounds in its +perfection; there are none so discordant as when it snaps. + +Victoria scarcely heard Austen's acknowledgments of her kindness, so +perfunctory did they seem, so unlike the man she had known; and her own +protestations that she had done nothing to merit his thanks were to her +quite as unreal. She introduced him to the Englishman. + +"Mr. Rangely has been good enough to come with me," she said. + +"I've never seen anybody act with more presence of mind than Miss Flint," +Rangely declared, as he shook Austen's hand. "She did just the right +thing, without wasting any time whatever." + +"I'm sure of it," said Austen, cordially enough. But to Victoria's +keener ear, other tones which she had heard at other times were lacking. +Nor could she, clever as she was, see the palpable reason standing before +her! + +"I say," said Rangely, as they drove away, "he strikes me as a remarkably +sound chap, Miss Flint. There is something unusual about him, something +clean cut." + +"I've heard other people say so," Victoria replied. For the first time +since she had known him, praise of Austen was painful to her. What was +this curious attraction that roused the interest of all who came in +contact with him? The doctor had it, Mr. Redbrook, Jabe Jenney,--even +Hamilton Tooting, she remembered. And he attracted women as well as men- +-it must be so. Certainly her own interest in him--a man beyond the +radius of her sphere--and their encounters had been strange enough! And +must she go on all her life hearing praises of him? Of one thing she was +sure--who was not?--that Austen Vane had a future. He was the type of +man which is inevitably impelled into places of trust. + +Manly men, as a rule, do not understand women. They humour them blindly, +seek to comfort them--if they weep--with caresses, laugh with them if +they have leisure, and respect their curious and unaccountable moods by +keeping out of the way. Such a husband was Arthur Rangely destined to +make; a man who had seen any number of women and understood none,--as +wondrous mechanisms. He had merely acquired the faculty of appraisal, +although this does not mean that he was incapable of falling in love. + +Mr. Rangely could not account for the sudden access of gayety in +Victoria's manner as they drove to Fairview through the darkness, nor did +he try. He took what the gods sent him, and was thankful. When he +reached Fairview he was asked to dinner, as he could not possibly get +back to the Inn in time. Mr. Flint had gone to Sumner with the +engineers, leaving orders to be met at the East Tunbridge station at ten; +and Mrs. Flint, still convalescent, had dined in her sitting room. +Victoria sat opposite her guest in the big dining room, and Mr. Rangely +pronounced the occasion decidedly jolly. He had, he proclaimed, with the +exception of Mr. Vane's deplorable accident, never spent a better day in +his life. + +Victoria wondered at her own spirits, which were feverish, as she +listened to transatlantic gossip about girls she had known who had +married Mr. Rangely's friends, and stories of Westminster and South +Africa, and certain experiences of Mr. Rangely's at other places than +Leith on the American continent, which he had grown sufficiently +confidential to relate. At times, lifting her eyes to him as he sat +smoking after dinner on the other side of the library fire, she almost +doubted his existence. He had come into her life at one o'clock that +day--it seemed an eternity since. And a subconscious voice, heard but +not heeded, told her that in the awakening from this curious dream he +would be associated in her memory with tragedy, just as a tune or a book +or a game of cards reminds one of painful periods of one's existence. +To-morrow the--episode would be a nightmare; to-night her one desire was +to prolong it. + +And poor Mr. Rangely little imagined the part he was playing--as little +as he deserved it. Reluctant to leave, propriety impelled him to ask for +a trap at ten, and it was half past before he finally made his exit from +the room with a promise to pay his respects soon--very soon. + +Victoria stood before the fire listening to the sound of the wheels +gradually growing fainter, and her mind refused to work. Hanover Street, +Mr. Jenney's farm-house, were unrealities too. Ten minutes later--if she +had marked the interval--came the sound of wheels again, this time +growing louder. Then she heard a voice in the hall, her father's voice. + +"Towers, who was that?" + +"A young gentleman, sir, who drove home with Miss Victoria. I didn't get +his name, sir." + +"Has Miss Victoria retired?" + +"She's in the library, sir. Here are some telegrams, Mr. Flint." + +Victoria heard her father tearing open the telegrams and walking towards +the library with slow steps as he read them. She did not stir from her +place before the fire. She saw him enter and, with a characteristic +movement which had become almost habitual of late, crush the telegrams in +front of him with both hands. + +"Well, Victoria?" he said. + +"Well, father?" + +It was characteristic of him, too, that he should momentarily drop the +conversation, unravel the ball of telegrams, read one, crush them once +more,--a process that seemed to give him relief. He glanced at his +daughter--she had not moved. Whatever Mr. Flint's original character may +have been in his long-forgotten youth on the wind-swept hill farm in +Truro, his methods of attack lacked directness now; perhaps a long +business and political experience were responsible for this trait. + +"Your mother didn't come down to dinner, I suppose." + +"No," said Victoria. + +Simpson tells me the young bull got loose and cut himself badly. He says +it's the fault of the Eben Fitch you got me to hire." + +"I don't believe it was Eben's fault--Simpson doesn't like him," Victoria +replied. + +"Simpson tells me Fitch drinks." + +"Let a man get a bad name," said Victoria, "and Simpson will take care +that he doesn't lose it." The unexpected necessity of defending one of +her proteges aroused her. "I've made it a point to see Eben every day +for the last three months, and he hasn't touched a drop. He's one of the +best workers we have on the place." + +"I've got too much on my mind to put up with that kind of thing," said +Mr. Flint, "and I won't be worried here on the place. I can get capable +men to tend cattle, at least. I have to put up with political rascals +who rob and deceive me as soon as my back is turned, I have to put up +with inefficiency and senility, but I won't have it at home." + +"Fitch will be transferred to the gardener if you think best," she said. + +It suddenly occurred to Victoria, in the light of a new discovery, that +in the past her father's irritability had not extended to her. And this +discovery, she knew, ought to have some significance, but she felt +unaccountably indifferent to it. Mr. Flint walked to a window at the far +end of the room and flung apart the tightly closed curtains before it. + +"I never can get used to this new-fangled way of shutting everything up +tight," he declared. "When I lived in Centre Street, I used to read with +the curtains up every night, and nobody ever shot me." He stood looking +out at the starlight for awhile, and turned and faced her again. + +"I haven't seen much of you this summer, Victoria," he remarked. + +"I'm sorry, father. You know I always like to walk with you every day +you are here." He had aroused her sufficiently to have a distinct sense +that this was not the time to refer to the warning she had given him that +he was working too hard. But he was evidently bent on putting this +construction on her answer. + +"Several times I have asked for you, and you have been away," he said. + +"If you had only let me know, I should have made it a point to be at +home." + +"How can I tell when these idiots will give me any rest?" he asked. He +crushed the telegrams again, and came down the room and stopped in front +of her. "Perhaps there has been a particular reason why you have not +been at home as much as usual." + +"A particular reason?" she repeated, in genuine surprise. + +"Yes," he said; "I have been hearing things which, to put it mildly, have +astonished me." + +"Hearing things?" + +"Yes," he exclaimed. "I may be busy, I may be harassed by tricksters and +bunglers, but I am not too busy not to care something about my daughter's +doings. I expect them to deceive me, Victoria, but I pinned my faith +somewhere. I pinned it on you. On you, do you understand?" + +She raised her head for the first time and looked at him, with her lips +quivering. But she did not speak. + +"Ever since you were a child you have been everything to me, all I had to +fly to. I was always sure of one genuine, disinterested love--and that +was yours. I was always sure of hearing the truth from your lips." + +"Father!" she cried. + +He seemed not to hear the agonized appeal in her voice. Although he +spoke in his usual tones, Augustus Flint was, in fact, beside himself. + +"And now," he said, "and now I learn that you have been holding +clandestine meetings with a man who is my enemy, with a man who has done +me more harm than any other single individual, with a man whom I will not +have in my house--do you understand? I can only say that before to- +night, I gave him credit for having the decency not to enter it, not to +sit down at my table." + +Victoria turned away from him, and seized the high oak shelf of the +mantel with both hands. He saw her shoulders rising and falling as her +breath came deeply, spasmodically--like sobbing. But she was not sobbing +as she turned again and looked into his face. Fear was in her eye, and +the high courage to look: fear and courage. She seemed to be looking at +another man, at a man who was not her father. And Mr. Flint, despite his +anger, vaguely interpreting her meaning, was taken aback. He had never +seen anybody with such a look. And the unexpected quiet quality of her +voice intensified his strange sensation. + +"A Mr. Rangely, an Englishman, who is staying at the Leith Inn, was here +to dinner to-night. He has never been here before." + +"Austen Vane wasn't here to-night?" + +"Mr. Vane has never been in this house to my knowledge but once, and you +knew more about that meeting than I do." + +And still Victoria spoke quietly, inexplicably so to Mr. Flint--and to +herself. It seemed to her that some other than she were answering with +her voice, and that she alone felt. It was all a part of the nightmare, +all unreal, and this was not her father; nevertheless, she suffered now, +not from anger alone, nor sorrow, nor shame for him and for herself, nor +disgust, nor a sense of injustice, nor cruelty--but all of these played +upon a heart responsive to each with a different pain. + +And Mr. Flint, halted for the moment by her look and manner, yet goaded +on by a fiend of provocation which had for months been gathering +strength, and which now mastered him completely, persisted. He knew not +what he did or said. + +"And you haven't seen him to-day, I suppose," he cried. + +"Yes, I have seen him to-day." + +"Ah, you have! I thought as much. Where did you meet him to-day?" + +Victoria turned half away from him, raised a hand to the mantel-shelf +again, and lifted a foot to the low brass fender as she looked down into +the fire. The movement was not part of a desire to evade him, as he +fancied in his anger, but rather one of profound indifference, of +profound weariness--the sunless deeps of sorrow. And he thought her +capable of deceiving him! He had been her constant companion from +childhood, and knew only the visible semblance of her face, her form, her +smile. Her sex was the sex of subterfuge. + +"I went to the place where he is living, and asked for him," she said, +"and he came out and spoke to me." + +"You?" he repeated incredulously. There was surely no subterfuge in her +tone, but an unreal, unbelievable note which his senses seized, and to +which he clung. "You! My daughter!" + +"Yes," she answered, "I, your daughter. I suppose you think I am +shameless. It is true--I am." + +Mr. Flint was utterly baffled. He was at sea. He had got beyond the +range of his experience; defence, denial, tears, he could have understood +and coped with. He crushed the telegrams into a tighter ball, sought for +a footing, and found a precarious one. + +"And all this has been going on without my knowledge, when you knew my +sentiments towards the man?" + +"Yes," she said. "I do not know what you include in that remark, but I +have seen him many times as many times, perhaps, as you have heard +about." + +He wheeled, and walked over to a cabinet between two of the great windows +and stood there examining a collection of fans which his wife had bought +at a famous sale in Paris. Had he suddenly been asked the question, he +could not have said whether they were fans or beetles. And it occurred +to Victoria, as her eyes rested on his back, that she ought to be sorry +for him--but wasn't, somehow. Perhaps she would be to-morrow. Mr. Flint +looked at the fans, and an obscure glimmering of the truth came to him +that instead of administering a severe rebuke to the daughter he believed +he had known all his life, he was engaged in a contest with the soul of a +woman he had never known. And the more she confessed, the more she +apparently yielded, the more impotent he seemed, the tighter the demon +gripped him. Obstacles, embarrassments, disappointments, he had met +early in his life, and he had taken them as they came. There had +followed a long period when his word had been law. And now, as age came +on, and he was meeting with obstacles again, he had lost the magic gift +of sweeping them aside; the growing certainty that he was becoming +powerless haunted him night and day. Unbelievably strange, however, it +was that the rays of his anger by some subconscious process had hovered +from the first about the son of Hilary Vane, and were now, by the trend +of event after event, firmly focussed there. + +He left the cabinet abruptly and came back to Victoria. + +She was standing in the same position. + +"You have spared me something," he said. "He has apparently undermined +me with my own daughter. He has evidently given you an opinion of me +which is his. I think I can understand why you have not spoken of these +--meetings." + +"It is an inference that I expected," said Victoria. Then she lifted her +head and looked at him, and again he could not read her expression, for a +light burned in her eyes that made them impenetrable to him,--a light +that seemed pitilessly to search out and reveal the dark places and the +weak places within him which he himself had not known were there. Could +there be another standard by which men and women were measured and +judged? + +Mr. Flint snapped his fingers, and turned and began to pace the room. + +"It's all pretty clear," he said; "there's no use going into it any +farther. You believe, with the rest of them, that I'm a criminal and +deserve the penitentiary. I don't care a straw about the others," he +cried, snapping his fingers again. "And I suppose, if I'd had any sense, +I might have expected it from you, too, Victoria--though you are my +daughter." + +He was aware that her eyes followed him. + +"How many times have you spoken with Austen Vane?" she asked. + +"Once," he exclaimed; "that was enough. Once." + +"And he gave you the impression," she continued slowly, "that he was +deceitful, and dishonourable, and a coward? a man who would say things +behind your back that he dared not say to your face? who desired reward +for himself at any price, and in any manner? a man who would enter your +house and seek out your daughter and secretly assail your character?" + +Mr. Flint stopped in the middle of the floor. + +"And you tell me he has not done these things?" + +"Suppose I did tell you so," said Victoria, "would you believe me? I +have no reason to think that you would. I am your daughter, I have been +your most intimate companion, and I had the right to think that you +should have formed some estimate of my character. Suppose I told you +that Austen Vane has avoided me, that he would not utter a word against +you or in favour of himself? "Suppose I told you that I, your daughter, +thought there might be two sides to the political question that is +agitating you, and wished in fairness to hear the other side, +as I intended to tell you when you were less busy? Suppose I told you +that Austen Vane was the soul of honour, that he saw your side and +presented it as ably as you have presented it? that he had refrained in +many matters which might have been of advantage to him--although I did +not hear of them from him--on account of his father? Would you believe +me?" + +"And suppose I told you," cried Mr. Flint--so firmly fastened on him was +the long habit of years of talking another down, "suppose I told you that +this was the most astute and the craftiest course he could take? I've +always credited him with brains. Suppose I told you that he was +intriguing now, as he has been all along, to obtain the nomination for +the governorship? Would you believe me?" + +"No," answered Victoria, quietly. + +Mr. Flint went to the lamp, unrolled the ball of telegrams, seized one +and crossed the room quickly, and held it out to her. His hand shook a +little. + +"Read that!" he said. + +She read it: "Estimate that more than half of delegates from this section +pledged to Henderson will go to Austen Vane when signal is given in +convention. Am told on credible authority same is true of other +sections, including many of Hunt's men and Crewe's. This is the result +of quiet but persistent political work I spoke about. BILLINGS." + +She handed the telegram back to her father in silence. "Do you believe it +now?" he demanded exultantly. + +"Who is the man whose name is signed to that message?" she asked. + +Mr. Flint eyed her narrowly. + +"What difference does that make?" he demanded. + +"None," said Victoria. But a vision of Mr. Billings rose before her. +He had been pointed out to her as the man who had opposed Austen in the +Meader suit. If the bishop of the diocese signed it, I would not +believe that Austen Vane had anything to do with the matter." + +"Ah, you defend him!" cried Mr. Flint. "I thought so--I thought so. +I take off my hat to him, he is a cleverer man even than I. His own +father, whom he has ruined, comes up here and defends him." + +"Does Hilary Vane defend him?" Victoria asked curiously. + +"Yes," said Mr. Flint, beside himself; "incredible as it may seem, he +does. I have Austen Vane to thank for still another favour--he is +responsible for Hilary's condition to-day. He has broken him down--he +has made him an imbecile. The convention is scarcely thirty-six hours +off, and Hilary is about as fit to handle it as--as Eben Fitch. Hilary, +who never failed me in his life!" + +Victoria did not speak for a moment, and then she reached out her hand +quickly and laid it on his that still held the telegram. A lounge stood +on one side of the fireplace, and she drew him gently to it, and he sat +down at her side. His acquiescence to her was a second nature, and he +was once more bewildered. His anger now seemed to have had no effect +upon her whatever. + +"I waited up to tell you about Hilary Vane, father," she said gently. +"He has had a stroke, which I am afraid is serious." + +"A stroke!" cried Mr. Flint, "Why didn't you tell me? How do you know?" + +Victoria related how she had found Hilary coming away from Fairview, and +what she had done, and the word Dr. Tredway had sent. + +"Good God!" cried Mr. Flint, "he won't be able to go to the convention!" +And he rose and pressed the electric button. "Towers," he said, when the +butler appeared, "is Mr. Freeman still in my room? Tell him to telephone +to Ripton at once and find out how Mr. Hilary Vane is. They'll have to +send a messenger. That accounts for it," he went on, rather to himself +than to Victoria, and he began to pace the room once more; "he looked +like a sick man when he was here. And who have we got to put in his +place? Not a soul!" + +He paced awhile in silence. He appeared to have forgotten Victoria. + +"Poor Hilary!" he said again, "poor Hilary! I'll go down there the first +thing in the morning." + +Another silence, and then Mr. Freeman, the secretary, entered. + +"I telephoned to Dr. Tredway's, Mr. Flint. I thought that would be +quickest. Mr. Vane has left home. They don't know where he's gone." + +"Left home! It's impossible!" and he glanced at Victoria, who had risen +to her feet. "There must be some mistake." + +"No, sir. First I got the doctor, who said that Mr. Vane was gone--at +the risk of his life. And then I talked to Mr. Austen Vane himself, who +was there consulting with the doctor. It appears that Mr. Hilary Vane +had left home by eight o'clock, when Mr. Austen Vane got there." + +"Hilary's gone out of his head," exclaimed Mr. Flint. "This thing has +unhinged him. Here, take these telegrams. No, wait a minute, I'll go +out there. Call up Billings, and see if you can get Senator Whitredge." + +He started out of the room, halted, and turned his head and hesitated. + +"Father," said Victoria, "I don't think Hilary Vane is out of his mind." + +"You don't?" he said quickly. "Why?" + +By some unaccountable change in the atmosphere, of which Mr. Flint was +unconscious, his normal relation to his daughter had been suddenly +reestablished. He was giving ear, as usual, to her judgment. + +"Did Hilary Vane tell you he would go to the convention?" she asked. + +"Yes." In spite of himself, he had given the word an apologetic +inflection. + +"Then he has gone already," she said. "I think, if you will telephone a +little later to the State capital, you will find that he is in his room +at the Pelican Hotel." + +"By thunder, Victoria!" he ejaculated, "you may be right. It would be +like him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE ARENA AND THE DUST + +Alas! that the great genius who described the battle of Waterloo is not +alive to-day and on this side of the Atlantic, for a subject worthy of +his pen is at hand,--nothing less than that convention of conventions at +which the Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith is one of the candidates. +One of the candidates, indeed! Will it not be known, as long as there +are pensions, and a governor and a state-house and a seal and State +sovereignty and a staff, as the Crewe Convention? How charge after +charge was made during the long, hot day and into the night; how the +delegates were carried out limp and speechless and starved and wet +through, and carried in to vote again,--will all be told in time. But +let us begin at the beginning, which is the day before. + +But look! it is afternoon, and the candidates are arriving at the +Pelican. The Honourable Adam B. Hunt is the first, and walks up the hill +from the station escorted by such prominent figures as the Honourables +Brush Bascom and Jacob Botcher, and surrounded by enthusiastic supporters +who wear buttons with the image of their +leader--goatee and all--and the singularly prophetic superscription, 'To +the Last Ditch!' Only veterans and experts like Mr. Bascom and Mr. +Botcher can recognize the last ditch when they see it. + +Another stir in the street--occasioned by the appearance of the +Honourable Giles Henderson,--of the blameless life. Utter a syllable +against him if you can! These words should be inscribed on his buttons +if he had any--but he has none. They seem to be, unuttered, on the +tongues of the gentlemen who escort the Honourable Giles, United States +Senator Greene and the Honourable Elisha Jane, who has obtained leave of +absence from his consular post to attend the convention,--and +incidentally to help prepare for it. + +But who and what is this? The warlike blast of a siren horn is heard, +the crowd in the lobby rushes to the doors, people up-stairs fly to the +windows, and the Honourable Adam B. Hunt leans out and nearly falls out, +but is rescued by Division Superintendent Manning of the Northeastern +Railroads, who has stepped in from Number Seven to give a little private +tug of a persuasive nature to the Honourable Adam's coat-tails. A red +Leviathan comes screaming down Main Street with a white trail of dust +behind it, smothering the occupants of vehicles which have barely +succeeded in getting out of the way, and makes a spectacular finish +before the Pelican by sliding the last fifty feet on locked rear wheels. + +A group in the street raises a cheer. It is the People's Champion! Dust +coat, gauntlets, goggles, cannot hide him; and if they did, some one +would recognize that voice, familiar now and endeared to many, and so +suited to command:-- + +"Get that baggage off, and don't waste any time! Jump out, Watling--that +handle turns the other way. Well, Tooting, are the headquarters ready? +What was the matter that I couldn't get you on the telephone?" (To the +crowd.) "Don't push in and scratch the paint. He's going to back out in +a minute, and somebody'll get hurt." + +Mr. Hamilton Tooting (Colonel Hamilton Tooting that is to be--it being an +open secret that he is destined for the staff) is standing hatless on the +sidewalk ready to receive the great man. The crowd in the rotunda makes +a lane, and Mr. Crewe, glancing neither to the right nor left, walks +upstairs; and scarce is he installed in the bridal suite, surrounded by +his faithful workers for reform, than that amazing reception begins. Mr. +Hamilton Tooting, looking the very soul of hospitality, stands by the +doorway with an open box of cigars in his left hand, pressing them upon +the visitors with his right. Reform, contrary to the +preconceived opinion of many, is not made of icicles, nor answers with a +stone a request for bread. As the hours run on, the visitors grow more +and more numerous, and after supper the room is packed to suffocation, +and a long line is waiting in the corridor, marshalled and kept in good +humour by able lieutenants; while Mr. Crewe is dimly to be perceived +through clouds of incense burning in his honour--and incidentally at his +expense--with a welcoming smile and an appropriate word for each caller, +whose waistcoat pockets, when they emerge, resemble cartridge-belts of +cigars. + +More cigars were hastily sent for, and more. There are to be but a +thousand delegates to the convention, and at least two thousand men have +already passed through the room--and those who don't smoke have friends. +It is well that Mr. Crewe has stuck to his conservative habit of not +squeezing hands too hard. + +"Isn't that Mr. Putter, who keeps a livery-stable here?" inquired Mr. +Crewe, about nine o'clock--our candidate having a piercing eye of his +own. Mr. Putter's coat, being brushed back, has revealed six cigars. + +"Why, yes--yes," says Mr. Watling. + +"Is he a delegate?" Mr. Crewe demanded. + +"Why, I guess he must be," says Mr. Watling. + +But Mr. Putter is not a delegate. + +"You've stood up and made a grand fight, Mr. Crewe," says another +gentleman, a little later, with a bland, smooth shaven face and strong +teeth to clinch Mr. Crewe's cigars. "I wish I was fixed so as I could +vote for you." + +Mr. Crewe looks at him narrowly. + +"You look very much like a travelling man from New York, who tried to +sell me farm machinery," he answers. + +"Where are you from?" + +"You ain't exactly what they call a tyro, are you?" says the bland-faced +man; "but I guess you've missed the mark this shot. Well, so long." + +"Hold on!" says Mr. Crewe, "Watling will talk to you." + +And, as the gentleman follows Mr. Wailing through the press, a pamphlet +drops from his pocket to the floor. It is marked 'Catalogue of the +Raines Farm Implement Company.' Mr. Watling picks it up and hands it to +the gentleman, who winks again. + +"Tim," he says, "where can we sit down? How much are you getting out of +this? Brush and Jake Botcher are bidding high down-stairs, and the +quotation on delegates has gone up ten points in ten minutes. It's +mighty good of you to remember old friends, Tim, even if they're not +delegates." + +Meanwhile Mr. Crewe is graciously receiving others who are crowding to +him. + +"How are you, Mr. Giddings? How are the cows? I carry some stock +that'll make you sit up--I believe I told you when I was down your way. +Of course, mine cost a little money, but that's one of my hobbies. Come +and see 'em some day. There's a good hotel in Ripton, and I'll have you +met there and drive you back." + +Thus, with a genial and kindly remark to each, he passes from one to the +other, and when the members of the press come to him for his estimate of +the outcome on the morrow, he treats them with the same courtly +consideration. + +"Estimate!" cries Mr. Crewe. "Where have your eyes been to-night, my +friends? Have you seen the people coming into these headquarters? Have +you seen 'em pouring into any other headquarters? All the State and +federal office-holders in the country couldn't stop me now. Estimate! +I'll be nominated on the first ballot." + +They wrote it down. + +"Thank you, Mr. Crewe," they said; "that's the kind of talk we like to +hear." + +"And don't forget," said Mr. Crewe, "to mention this reception in the +accounts." + +Mr. Tooting, who makes it a point from time to time to reconnoitre, +saunters halfway down-stairs and surveys the crowded rotunda from the +landing. Through the blue medium produced by the burning of many cigars +(mostly Mr. Crewe's) he takes note of the burly form of Mr. Thomas +Gaylord beside that of Mr. Redbrook and other rural figures; he takes +note of a quiet corner with a ring of chairs surrounded by scouts and +outposts, although it requires a trained eye such as Mr. Tooting's to +recognize them as such--for they wear no uniforms. They are, in truth, +minor captains of the feudal system, and their present duties consist (as +Mr. Tooting sees clearly) in preventing the innocent and inquisitive from +unprofitable speech with the Honourable Jacob Botcher, who sits in the +inner angle conversing cordially with those who are singled out for this +honour. Still other scouts conduct some of the gentlemen who have talked +with Mr. Botcher up the stairs to a mysterious room on the second floor. +Mr. Tooting discovers that the room is occupied by the Honourable Brush +Bascom; Mr. Tooting learns with indignation that certain of these guests +of Mr. Bascom's are delegates pledged to Mr. Crewe, whereupon he rushes +back to the bridal suite to report to his chief. The cigars are giving +out again, and the rush has slackened, and he detaches the People's +Champion from the line and draws him to the inner room. + +Brush Bascom's conducting a bourse on the second floor and is running the +price up right along," cried the honest and indignant Mr. Tooting. He's +stringin' Adam Hunt all right. They say he's got Adam to cough up six +thousand extra since five o'clock, but the question is--ain't he +stringin' us? He paid six hundred for a block of ten not quarter of an +hour ago--and nine of 'em were our delegates." + +It must be remembered that these are Mr. Tooting's words, and Mr. Crewe +evidently treated them as the product of that gentleman's vivid +imagination. Translated, they meant that the Honourable Adam B. Hunt has +no chance for the nomination, but that the crafty Messrs. Botcher and +Bascom are inducing him to think that he has--by making a supreme effort. +The supreme effort is represented by six thousand dollars. + +"Are you going to lie down under that?" Mr. Tooting demanded, forgetting +himself in his zeal for reform and Mr. Crewe. But Mr. Tooting, in some +alarm, perceived the eye of his chief growing virtuous and glassy. + +"I guess I know when I'm strung, as you call it, Mr. Tooting," he replied +severely. "This cigar bill alone is enough to support a large family for +several months." + +And with this merited reproof he turned on his heel and went back to his +admirers without, leaving Mr. Tooting aghast, but still resourceful. Ten +minutes later that gentleman was engaged in a private conversation with +his colleague, the Honourable Timothy Wading. + +"He's up on his hind legs at last," said Mr. Tooting; "it looks as if he +was catching on." + +Mr. Wading evidently grasped these mysterious words, for he looked grave. + +"He thinks he's got the nomination cinched, don't he?" + +"That's the worst of it," cried Mr. Tooting. + +"I'll see what I can do," said the Honourable Tim. "He's always talking +about thorough, let him do it thorough." And Mr. Watling winked. + +"Thorough," repeated Mr. Tooting, delightedly. + +"That's it--Colonel," said Mr. Watling. "Have you ordered your uniform +yet, Ham?" + +Mr. Tooting plainly appreciated this joke, for he grinned. + +"I guess you won't starve if you don't get that commissionership, Tim," +he retorted. + +"And I guess," returned Mr. Watling, "that you won't go naked if you +don't have a uniform." + +Victoria's surmise was true. At ten o'clock at night, two days before +the convention, a tall figure had appeared in the empty rotunda of the +Pelican, startling the clerk out of a doze. He rubbed his eyes and +stared, recognized Hilary Vane, and yet failed to recognize him. It was +an extraordinary occasion indeed which would cause Mr. McAvoy to lose his +aplomb; to neglect to seize the pen and dip it, with a flourish, into the +ink, and extend its handle towards the important guest; to omit a few +fitting words of welcome. It was Hilary who got the pen first, and wrote +his name in silence, and by this time Mr. McAvoy had recovered his +presence of mind sufficiently to wield the blotter. + +"We didn't expect you to-night, Mr. Vane," he said, in a voice that +sounded strange to him, "but we've kept Number Seven, as usual. Front!" + +"The old man's seen his day, I guess," Mr. McAvoy remarked, as he studied +the register with a lone reporter. "This Crewe must have got in on 'em +hard, from what they tell me, and Adam Hunt has his dander up." + +The next morning at ten o'clock, while the workmen were still tacking +down the fireproof carpets in headquarters upstairs, and before even the +advance guard of the armies had begun to arrive, the eye of the clerk was +caught by a tall young man rapidly approaching the desk. + +"Is Mr. Hilary Vane here?" + +"He's in Number Seven," said Mr. McAvoy, who was cudgelling his brains. +"Give me your card, and I'll send it up." + +"I'll go up," said the caller, turning on his heel and suiting the action +to the word, leaving Mr. McAvoy to make active but futile inquiries among +the few travelling men and reporters seated about. + +"Well, if you fellers don't know him, I give up," said the clerk, +irritably, "but he looks as if he ought to be somebody. He knows his +business, anyway." + +In the meantime Mr. Vane's caller had reached the first floor; he +hesitated just a moment before knocking at the door of Number Seven, and +the Honourable Hilary's voice responded. The door opened. + +Hilary was seated, as usual, beside the marble-topped table, which was +covered with newspapers and memoranda. In the room were Mr. Ridout, the +capital lawyer, and Mr. Manning, the division superintendent. There was +an instant of surprised silence on the part of the three, but the +Honourable Hilary was the only one who remained expressionless. + +"If you don't mind, gentlemen," said the visitor, "I should like to talk +to my father for a few minutes." + +"Why, certainly, Austen," Mr. Ridout replied, with an attempt at +heartiness. Further words seemed to fail him, and he left the room +somewhat awkwardly, followed by Mr. Manning; but the Honourable Hilary +appeared to take no notice of this proceeding. + +"Judge," said Austen, when the door had closed behind them, "I won't keep +you long. I didn't come down here to plead with you to abandon what you +believe to be your duty, because I know that would be useless. I have +had a talk with Dr. Tredway," he added gently, "and I realize that you +are risking your life. If I could take you back to Ripton I would, but I +know that I cannot. I see your point of view, and if I were in your +place I should do the same thing. I only wanted to tell you this--" +Austen's voice caught a little, "if--anything should happen, I shall be +at Mrs. Peasley's on Maple Street, opposite the Duncan house." He laid +his hand for an instant, in the old familiar way, on Hilary's shoulder, +and looked down into the older man's face. It may have been that +Hilary's lips trembled a little. "I--I'll see you later, Judge, when +it's all over. Good luck to you." + +He turned slowly, went to the door and opened it, gave one glance at the +motionless figure in the chair, and went out. He did not hear the voice +that called his name, for the door had shut. + +Mr. Ridout and Mr. Manning were talking together in low tones at the head +of the stairs. It was the lawyer who accosted Austen. + +"The old gentleman don't seem to be quite himself, Austen. Don't seem +well. You ought to hold him in he can't work as hard as he used to." + +"I think you'll find, Mr. Ridout," answered Austen, deliberately, "that +he'll perform what's required of him with his usual efficiency." + +Mr. Ridout followed Austen's figure with his eyes until he was hidden by +a turn of the stairs. Then he whistled. + +"I can't make that fellow out," he exclaimed. "Never could. All I know +is that if Hilary Vane pulls us through this mess, in the shape he's in, +it'll be a miracle. + +"His mind seems sound enough to-day--but he's lost his grip, I tell you. +I don't wonder Flint's beside himself. Here's Adam Hunt with both feet +in the trough, and no more chance of the nomination than I have, and +Bascom and Botcher teasing him on, and he's got enough votes with Crewe +to lock up that convention for a dark horse. And who's the dark horse?" + +Mr. Manning, who was a silent man, pointed with his thumb in the +direction Austen had taken. + +"Hilary Vane's own son," said Mr. Ridout, voicing the gesture; "they tell +me that Tom Gaylord's done some pretty slick work. Now I leave it to +you, Manning, if that isn't a mess!" + +At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the appearance on the +stairway of the impressive form of United States Senator Whitredge, +followed by a hall boy carrying the senatorial gripsack. The senator's +face wore a look of concern which could not possibly be misinterpreted. + +"How's Hilary?" were his first words. + +Mr. Ridout and Mr. Manning glanced at each other. + +"He's in Number Seven; you'd better take a look at him, Senator." + +The senator drew breath, directed that his grip be put in the room where +he was to repose that night, produced an amber cigar-holder from a case, +and a cigar from his waistcoat pocket. + +"I thought I'd better come down early," he said, "things aren't going +just as they should, and that's the truth. In fact," he added, +significantly tapping his pocket, "I've got a letter from Mr. Flint to +Hilary which I may have to use. You understand me." + +"I guessed as much," said Mr. Ridout. + +"Ahem! I saw young Vane going out of the hotel just now," the senator +remarked. "I am told, on pretty good authority, that under certain +circumstances, which I must confess seem not unlikely at present, he may +be a candidate for the nomination. The fact that he is in town tends to +make the circumstance more probable." + +"He's just been in to see Hilary," said Mr. Ridout. + +"You don't tell me!" said the senator, pausing as he lighted his cigar; +"I was under the impression that they were not on speaking terms." + +"They've evidently got together now, that--" said Mr. Ridout. "I wonder +how old Hilary would feel about it. We couldn't do much with Austen Vane +if he was governor--that's a sure thing." + +The senator pondered a moment. + +"It's been badly managed," he muttered; "there's no doubt of that. Hunt +must be got out of the way. When Bascom and Botcher come, tell them I +want to see them in my room, not in Number Seven." + +And with this impressive command, received with nods of understanding, +Senator Whitredge advanced slowly towards Number Seven, knocked, and +entered. Be it known that Mr. Flint, with characteristic caution, had +not confided even to the senator that the Honourable Hilary had had a +stroke. + +"Ah, Vane," he said, in his most affable tones, "how are you?" + +The Honourable Hilary, who was looking over some papers, shot at him a +glance from under his shaggy eyebrows. + +"Came in here to find out--didn't you, Whitredge?" he replied. + +"What?" said the senator, taken aback; and for once at a loss for words. + +The Honourable Hilary rose and stood straighter than usual, and looked +the senator in the eye. + +"What's your diagnosis?" he asked. "Superannuated--unfit for duty-- +unable to cope with the situation ready to be superseded? Is that about +it?" + +To say that Senator Whitredge was startled and uncomfortable would be to +put his case mildly. He had never before seen Mr. Vane in this mood. + +"Ha-ha!" he laughed; "the years are coming over us a little, aren't they? +But I guess it isn't quite time for the youngsters to step in yet." + +"No, Whitredge," said Mr. Vane, slowly, without taking his eye from the +senator's, "and it won't be until this convention is over. Do you +understand?" + +"That's the first good news I've heard this morning," said the senator, +with the uneasy feeling that, in some miraculous way, the Honourable +Hilary had read the superseding orders from highest authority through his +pocket. + +"You may take it as good news or bad news, as you please, but it's a +fact. And now I want 'YOU' to tell Ridout that I wish to see him again, +and to bring in Doby, who is to be chairman of the convention." + +"Certainly," assented the senator, with alacrity, as he started for the +door. Then he turned. "I'm glad to see you're all right, Vane," he +added; "I'd heard that you were a little under the weather--a bilious +attack on account of the heat--that's all I meant." He did not wait for +an answer, nor would he have got one. And he found Mr. Ridout in the +hall. + +"Well?" said the lawyer, expectantly, and looking with some curiosity at +the senator's face. + +"Well," said Mr. Whitredge, with marked impatience, "he wants to see you +right away." + +All day long Hilary Vane held conference in Number Seven, and at six +o'clock sent a request that the Honourable Adam visit him. The +Honourable Adam would not come; and the fact leaked out--through the +Honourable Adam. + +"He's mad clean through," reported the Honourable Elisha Jane, to whose +tact and diplomacy the mission had been confided. "He said he would +teach Flint a lesson. He'd show him he couldn't throw away a man as +useful and efficient as he'd been, like a sucked orange." + +"Humph! A sucked orange. That's what he said, is it? A sucked orange," +Hilary repeated. + +"That's what he said," declared Mr. Jane, and remembered afterwards how +Hilary had been struck by the simile. + +At ten o'clock at night, at the very height of the tumult, Senator +Whitredge had received an interrogatory telegram from Fairview, and had +called a private conference (in which Hilary was not included) in a back +room on the second floor (where the conflicting bands of Mr. Crewe and +Mr. Hunt could not be heard), which Mr. Manning and Mr. Jane and State +Senator Billings and Mr. Ridout attended. Query: the Honourable Hilary +had quarrelled with Mr. Flint, that was an open secret; did not Mr. Vane +think himself justified, from his own point of view, in taking a singular +revenge in not over-exerting himself to pull the Honourable Adam out, +thereby leaving the field open for his son, Austen Vane, with whom he was +apparently reconciled? Not that Mr. Flint had hinted of such a thing! +He had, in the telegram, merely urged the senator himself to see Mr. +Hunt, and to make one more attempt to restrain the loyalty to that +candidate of Messrs. Bascom and Botcher. + +The senator made the attempt, and failed signally. + +It was half-past midnight by the shining face of the clock on the tower +of the state-house, and hope flamed high in the bosom of the Honourable +Adam B. Hunt a tribute to the bellows-like skill of Messrs. Bascom and +Botcher. The bands in the street had blown themselves out, the delegates +were at last seeking rest, the hall boys in the corridors were turning +down the lights, and the Honourable Adam, in a complacent and even +jubilant frame of mind, had put on his carpet slippers and taken off his +coat, when there came a knock at his door. He was not a little amazed +and embarrassed, upon opening it, to see the Honourable Hilary. But +these feelings gave place almost immediately to a sense of triumph; gone +were the days when he had to report to Number Seven. Number Seven, in +the person of Hilary (who was Number Seven), had been forced to come to +him! + +"Well, upon my soul!" he exclaimed heartily. "Come in, Hilary." + +He turned up the jets of the chandelier, and gazed at his friend, and was +silent. + +"Have a seat, Hilary," he said, pushing up an armchair. + +Mr. Vane sat down. Mr. Hunt took a seat opposite, and waited for his +visitor to speak. He himself seemed to find no words. + +"Adam," said Mr. Vane, at length, "we've known each other for a good many +years." + +"That's so, Hilary. That's so," Mr. Hunt eagerly assented. What was +coming? + +"And whatever harm I've done in my life," Hilary continued, "I've always +tried to keep my word. I told you, when we met up there by the mill this +summer, that if Mr. Flint had consulted me about your candidacy, before +seeing you in New York, I shouldn't have advised it--this time." + +The Honourable Adam's face stiffened. + +"That's what you said. But--" + +"And I meant it," Mr. Vane interrupted. "I was never pledged to your +candidacy, as a citizen. I've been thinking over my situation some, this +summer, and I'll tell you in so many plain words what it is. I guess you +know--I guess everybody knows who's thought about it. I deceived myself +for a long time by believing that I earned my living as the attorney for +the Northeastern Railroads. I've drawn up some pretty good papers for +them, and I've won some pretty difficult suits. I'm not proud of 'em +all, but let that go. Do you know what I am?" + +The Honourable Adam was capable only of a startled ejaculation. Was +Hilary Vane in his right senses? + +"I'm merely their paid political tool," Mr. Vane continued, in the same +tone. "I've sold them my brain, and my right of opinion as a citizen. I +wanted to make this clear to you first of all. Not that you didn't know +it, but I wished you to know that I know it. When Mr. Flint said that +you were to be the Republican nominee, my business was to work to get you +elected, which I did. And when it became apparent that you couldn't be +nominated--" + +"Hold on!" cried the Honourable Adam. + +"Please wait until I have finished. When it became apparent that you +couldn't be nominated, Mr. Flint sent me to try to get you to withdraw, +and he decreed that the new candidate should pay your expenses up to +date. I failed in that mission." + +"I don't blame you, Hilary," exclaimed Mr. Hunt. "I told you so at the +time. But I guess I'll soon be in a position where I can make Flint walk +the tracks--his own tracks." + +"Adam," said Mr. Vane, "it is because I deserve as much of the blame as +Mr. Flint that I am here." + +Again Mr. Hunt was speechless. The Honourable Hilary Vane in an +apologetic mood! A surmise flashed into the brain of the Honourable +Adam, and sparkled there. The Honourable Giles Henderson was prepared to +withdraw, and Hilary had come, by authority, to see if he would pay the +Honourable Giles' campaign expenses. Well, he could snap his fingers at +that. + +"Flint has treated me like a dog," he declared. + +"Mr. Flint never pretended," answered Mr. Vane, coldly, "that the +nomination and election of a governor was anything but a business +transaction. His regard for you is probably unchanged, but the interests +he has at stake are too large to admit of sentiment as a factor." + +"Exactly," exclaimed Mr. Hunt. "And I hear he hasn't treated you just +right, Hilary. I understand--" + +Hilary's eyes flashed for the first time. + +"Never mind that, Adam," he said quietly; "I've been treated as I +deserve. I have nothing whatever to complain of from Mr. Flint. I will +tell you why I came here to-night. I haven't felt right about you since +that interview, and the situation to-night is practically what it was +then. You can't be nominated." + +"Can't be nominated !" gasped Mr: Hunt. And he reached to the table for +his figures. "I'll have four hundred on the first ballot, and I've got +two hundred and fifty more pledged to me as second choice. If you've +come up here at this time of night to try to deceive me on that, you +might as well go back and wire Flint it's no use. Why, I can name the +delegates, if you'll listen." + +Mr. Vane shook his head sadly. And, confident as he was, the movement +sent a cold chill down the Honourable Adam's spine, for faith in Mr. +Vane's judgment had become almost a second nature. He had to force +himself to remember that this was not the old Hilary. + +"You won't have three hundred, Adam, at any time," answered Mr. Vane. +"Once you used to believe what I said, and if you won't now, you won't. +But I can't go away without telling you what I came for." + +"What's that?" demanded Mr. Hunt, wonderingly. + +"It's this," replied Hilary, with more force than he had yet shown. "You +can't get that nomination. If you'll let me know what your campaign +expenses have been up to date,--all of 'em, you understand, to-night +too,--I'll give you a check for them within the next two weeks." + +"Who makes this offer?" demanded Mr. Hunt, with more curiosity than +alarm; "Mr. Flint?" + +"No," said Hilary; "Mr. Flint does not use the road's funds for such +purposes." + +"Henderson?" + +"No," said Hilary; "I can't see what difference it makes to you." + +The Honourable Adam had an eminently human side, and he laid his hand on +Mr. Vane's knee. + +"I think I've got a notion as to where that money would come from, +Hilary," he said. "I'm much obliged to you, my friend. I wouldn't take +it even if I thought you'd sized up the situation right. But--I don't +agree with you this time. I know I've got the nomination. And I want to +say once more, that I think you're a square man, and I don't hold +anything against you." + +Mr. Vane rose. + +"I'm sorry, Adam," he said; my offer holds good after to-morrow." + +"After to-morrow!" + +"Yes," said the Honourable Hilary. "I don't feel right about this thing. +Er--good night, Adam." + +"Hold on!" cried Mr. Hunt, as a new phase of the matter struck him. +"Why, if I got out--" + +"What then?" said Mr. Vane, turning around. + +"Oh, I won't get out," said Mr. Hunt, "but if I did,--why, there +wouldn't, according to your way of thinking, be any chance for a dark +horse." + +"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Vane. + +"Now don't get mad, Hilary. I guess, and you know, that Flint hasn't +treated you decently this summer after all you've done for him, and I +admire the way you're standing by him. I wouldn't do it. I just wanted +to say," Mr. Hunt added slowly, "that I respect you all the more for +trying to get me out. If--always according to your notion of the +convention--if I don't get out, and haven't any chance, they tell me on +pretty good authority Austen Vane will get the nomination." + +Hilary Vane walked to the door, opened it and went out, and slammed it +behind him. + +It is morning,--a hot morning, as so many recall,--and the partisans of +the three leaders are early astir, and at seven-thirty Mr. Tooting +discovers something going on briskly which he terms "dealing in futures." +My vote is yours as long as you are in the race, but after that I have +something negotiable. The Honourable Adam Hunt strolls into the rotunda +after an early breakfast, with a toothpick in his mouth, and is pointed +out by the sophisticated to new arrivals as the man who spent seven +thousand dollars over night, much of which is said to have stuck in the +pockets of two feudal chiefs who could be named. Is it possible that +there is a split in the feudal system at last? that the two feudal +chiefs (who could be named) are rebels against highest authority? A +smile from the sophisticated one. This duke and baron have merely +stopped to pluck a bird; it matters not whether or not the bird is an +erstwhile friend--he has been outlawed by highest authority, and is fair +game. The bird (with the toothpick in his mouth) creates a smile from +other chiefs of the system in good standing who are not too busy to look +at him. They have ceased all attempts to buttonhole him, for he is +unapproachable. + +The other bird, the rebel of Leith, who has never been in the feudal +system at all, they have stopped laughing at. It is he who has brought +the Empire to its most precarious state. + +And now, while strangers from near and far throng into town, drawn by the +sensational struggle which is to culminate in battle to-day, Mr. Crewe is +marshalling his forces. All the delegates who can be collected, and who +wear the button with the likeness and superscription of Humphrey Crewe, +are drawn up beside the monument in the park, where the Ripton Band is +stationed; and presently they are seen by cheering crowds marching to +martial music towards the convention hall, where they collect in a body, +with signs and streamers in praise of the People's Champion well to the +front and centre. This is generally regarded as a piece of consummate +general ship on the part of their leader. They are applauded from the +galleries,--already packed,--especially from one conspicuous end where +sit that company of ladies (now so famed) whose efforts have so +materially aided the cause of the People's Champion. Gay streamers vie +with gayer gowns, and morning papers on the morrow will have something to +say about the fashionable element and the special car which brought them +from Leith. + +"My, but it is hot!" + +The hall is filled now, with the thousand delegates, or their +representatives who are fortunate enough to possess their credentials. +Something of this matter later. General Doby, chairman of the +convention, an impressive but mournful figure, could not call a roll if +he wanted to. Not that he will want to! Impossible to tell, by the +convenient laws of the State, whether the duly elected delegates of Hull +or Mercer or Truro are here or not, since their credentials may be bought +or sold or conferred. Some political giants, who have not negotiated +their credentials, are recognized as they walk down the aisle: the +statesmanlike figure of Senator Whitredge (a cheer); that of Senator +Green (not so statesmanlike, but a cheer); Congressman Fairplay (cheers); +and--Hilary Vane! His a figure that does not inspire cheers,--least of +all to-day,--the man upon whose shoulders rests the political future of +the Northeastern. The conservative Mr. Tredways and other Lincoln +radicals of long ago who rely on his strength and judgment are not the +sort to cheer. And yet--and yet Hilary inspires some feeling when, with +stooping gait, he traverses the hall, and there is a hush in many +quarters as delegates and spectators watch his progress to the little +room off the platform: the general's room, as the initiated know. + +Ah, but few know what a hateful place it is to Hilary Vane to-day, this +keyboard at which he has sat so complacently in years gone by, the envied +of conventions. He sits down wearily at the basswood table, and scarcely +hears the familiar sounds without, which indicate that the convention of +conventions has begun. Extraordinary phenomenon at such a time, scenes +of long ago and little cherished then, are stealing into his mind. + +The Reverend Mr. Crane (so often chaplain of the Legislature, and known +to the irreverent as the chaplain of the Northeastern) is praying now for +guidance in the counsels of this great gathering of the people's +representatives. God will hear Mr. Botcher better if he closes his eyes; +which he does. Now the platform is being read by State Senator Billings; +closed eyes would best suit this proceeding, too. As a parallel to that +platform, one can think only of the Ten Commandments. The Republican +Party (chosen children of Israel) must be kept free from the domination +of corporations. (Cheers and banner waving for a full minute.) Some +better method of choosing delegates which will more truly reflect the +will of the people. (Plank of the Honourable Jacob Botcher, whose +conscience is awakening.) Never mind the rest. It is a triumph for Mr. +Crewe, and is all printed in that orthodox (reform) newspaper, the State +Tribune, with urgent editorials that it must be carried out to the +letter. + +And what now? Delegates, credential holders, audience, and the Reverend +Mr. Crane draw long breaths of heated carbon dioxide. Postmaster Burrows +of Edmundton, in rounded periods, is putting in nomination his +distinguished neighbour and fellow-citizen, the Honourable Adam B. Hunt, +who can subscribe and say amen to every plank in that platform. He +believes it, he has proclaimed it in public, and he embodies it. Mr. +Burrows indulges in slight but effective sarcasm of sham reformers and +so-called business men who perform the arduous task of cutting coupons +and live in rarefied regions where they can only be seen by the common +people when the light is turned on. (Cheers from two partisan bodies and +groans and hisses from another. General Doby, with a pained face, +pounding with the gavel. This isn't a circumstance to what's coming, +General.) + +After General Doby has succeeded in abating the noise in honour-of the +Honourable Adam, there is a hush of expectancy. Humphrey Crewe, who has +made all this trouble and enthusiasm, is to be nominated next, and the +Honourable Timothy Wailing of Newcastle arises to make that celebrated +oration which the cynical have called the "thousand-dollar speech." And +even if they had named it well (which is not for a moment to be +admitted!), it is cheap for the price. How Mr. Crewe's ears must tingle +as he paces his headquarters in the Pelican! Almost would it be +sacrilege to set down cold, on paper, the words that come, burning, out +of the Honourable Timothy's loyal heart. Here, gentlemen, is a man at +last, not a mere puppet who signs his name when a citizen of New York +pulls the string; one who is prepared to make any sacrifice,--to spend +his life, if need be, in their service. (A barely audible voice, before +the cheering commences, "I guess that's so.") Humphrey Crewe needs no +defence--the Honourable Timothy avers--at his hands, or any one's. Not +merely an idealist, but a practical man who has studied the needs of the +State; unselfish to the core; longing, like Washington, the Father of his +Country, to remain in a beautiful country home, where he dispenses +hospitality with a flowing hand to poor and rich alike, yet harking to +the call of duty. Leaving, like the noble Roman of old, his plough in +the furrow--(Same voice as before, "I wish he'd left his automobil' +thar!" Hisses and laughter.) The Honourable Timothy, undaunted, snatches +his hand from the breast of his Prince Albert and flings it, with a +superb gesture, towards the Pelican. "Gentlemen, I have the honour to +nominate to this convention that peerless leader for the right, the +Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith--our next governor." + +General Andrew Jackson himself, had he been alive and on this historic +ground and chairman of that convention, could scarce have quelled the +tumult aroused by this name and this speech--much less General Doby. +Although a man of presence, measurable by scales with weights enough, our +general has no more ponderosity now than a leaf in a mountain storm at +Hale--and no more control over the hurricane. Behold him now, pounding +with his gavel on something which should give forth a sound, but doesn't. +Who is he (to change the speech's figure--not the general's), who is he +to drive a wild eight-horse team, who is fit only to conduct Mr. Flint's +oxen in years gone by? + +It is a memorable scene, sketched to life for the metropolitan press. +The man on the chair, his face lighted by a fanatic enthusiasm, is the +Honourable Hamilton Tooting, coatless and collarless, leading the cheers +that shake the building, that must have struck terror to the soul of +Augustus P. Flint himself--fifty miles away. But the endurance of the +human throat is limited. + +Why, in the name of political strategy, has United States Senator Greene +been chosen to nominate the Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston? Some +say that it is the will of highest authority, others that the senator is +a close friend of the Honourable Giles--buys his coal from him, +wholesale. Both surmises are true. The senator's figure is not +impressive, his voice less so, and he reads from manuscript, to the +accompaniment of continual cries of "Louder!" A hook for Leviathan! "A +great deal of dribble," said the senator, for little rocks sometimes +strike fire, "has been heard about the 'will of the people.'" + +The Honourable Giles Henderson is beholden to no man and to no +corporation, and will go into office prepared to do justice impartially +to all." + +"Bu--copia verborum--let us to the main business!" + +To an hundred newspapers, to Mr. Flint at Fairview, and other important +personages ticks out the momentous news that the balloting has begun. No +use trying to hold your breath until the first ballot is announced; it +takes time to obtain the votes of one thousand men--especially when +neither General Doby nor any one else knows who they are! The only way +is to march up on the stage by counties and file past the ballot-box. +Putnam, with their glitter-eyed duke, Mr. Bascom, at their head-- +presumably solid for Adam B. Hunt; Baron Burrows, who farms out the post- +office at Edmundton, leads Edmunds County; Earl Elisha Jane, consul at +some hot place where he spends the inclement months drops the first +ticket for Haines County, ostensibly solid for home-made virtue and the +Honourable Giles. + +An hour and a quarter of suspense and torture passes, while collars wilt +and coats come off, and fans in the gallery wave incessantly, and excited +conversation buzzes in every quarter. And now, see! there is whispering +on the stage among the big-bugs. Mr. Chairman Doby rises with a paper in +his hand, and the buzzing dies down to silence. + + The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . .398 + The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . 353 + The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has. . 249 + And a majority being required, there is no choice! + +Are the supporters of the People's Champion crest-fallen, think you? Mr. +Tooting is not leading them for the moment, but is pressing through the +crowd outside the hall and flying up the street to the Pelican and the +bridal suite, where he is first with the news. Note for an unabridged +biography: the great man is discovered sitting quietly by the window, +poring over a book on the modern science of road-building, some notes +from which he is making for his first message. And instead of the reek +of tobacco smoke, the room is filled with the scent of the floral +tributes brought down by the Ladies' Auxiliary from Leith. In Mr. +Crewe's right-hand pocket, neatly typewritten, is his speech of +acceptance. He is never caught unprepared. Unkind, now, to remind him +of that prediction made last night about the first ballot to the +newspapers--and useless. + +"I told you last night they were buyin' 'em right under our noses," cried +Mr. Tooting, in a paroxysm of indignation, "and you wouldn't believe me. +They got over one hundred and sixty away from us." + +"It strikes me, Mr. Tooting," said Mr. Crewe, "that it was your business +to prevent that." + +There will no doubt be a discussion, when the biographer reaches this +juncture, concerning the congruity of reform delegates who can be bought. +It is too knotty a point of ethics to be dwelt upon here. + +"Prevent it!" echoed Mr. Tooting, and in the strong light of the +righteousness of that eye reproaches failed him. "But there's a whole +lot of 'em can be seen, right now, while the ballots are being taken. It +won't be decided on the next ballot." + +"Mr. Tooting," said Mr. Crewe, indubitably proving that he had the +qualities of a leader--if such proof were necessary, "go back to the +convention. I have no doubt of the outcome, but that doesn't mean you +are to relax your efforts. Do you understand?" + +"I guess I do," replied Mr. Tooting, and was gone. "He still has his +flag up," he whispered into the Honourable Timothy Watling's ear, when he +reached the hall. "He'll stand a little more yet." + +Mr. Tooting, at times, speaks a language unknown to us--and the second +ballot is going on. And during its progress the two principal +lieutenants of the People's Champion were observed going about the hall +apparently exchanging the time of day with various holders of +credentials. Mr. Jane, too, is going about the hall, and Postmaster +Burrows, and Postmaster Bill Fleeting of Brampton, and the Honourable Nat +Billings, and Messrs. Bascom and Botcher, and Mr. Manning, division +superintendent, and the Honourable Orrin Young, railroad commissioner and +candidate for reappointment--all are embracing the opportunity to greet +humble friends or to make new acquaintances. Another hour and a quarter, +with the temperature steadily rising and the carbon dioxide increasing-- +and the second ballot is announced. + + The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . 440 + The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . . 336 + The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has . . . 255 + +And there are three votes besides improperly made out! + +What the newspapers call indescribable excitement ensues. The three +votes improperly made out are said to be trip passes accidentally dropped +into the box by the supporters of the Honourable Elisha Jane. And add up +the sum total of the votes! Thirty-one votes more than there are +credentials in the hall! Mystery of mysteries how can it be? The +ballot, announces General Doby, after endless rapping, is a blank. +Cheers, recriminations, exultation, disgust of decent citizens, attempts +by twenty men to get the eye of the president (which is too watery to see +any of them), and rushes for the platform to suggest remedies or ask what +is going to be done about such palpable fraud. What can be done? Call +the roll! How in blazes can you call the roll when you don't know who's +here? Messrs. Jane, Botcher, Bascom, and Fleming are not disturbed, and +improve their time. Watling and Tooting rush to the bridal suite, and +rush back again to demand justice. General Doby mingles his tears with +theirs, and somebody calls him a jellyfish. He does not resent it. +Friction makes the air hotter and hotter--Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego +would scarce enter into this furnace,--and General Doby has a large damp +spot on his back as he pounds and pounds and pounds until we are off +again on the third ballot. No dinner, and three-thirty P.M.! Two +delegates have fainted, but the essential parts of them--the credentials +--are left behind. + +Four-forty, whispering again, and the gavel drops. + + The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . 412 + The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . 325 + The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has. . . 250 + And there is no choice on the third ballot! + +Thirteen delegates are actually missing this time. Scour the town! And +now even the newspaper adjectives describing the scene have given out. A +persistent and terrifying rumour goes the rounds, where's Tom Gaylord? +Somebody said he was in the hall a moment ago, on a Ripton credential. +If so, he's gone out again--gone out to consult the dark horse, who is in +town, somewhere. Another ominous sign: Mr. Redbrook, Mr. Widgeon of +Hull, and the other rural delegates who have been voting for the People's +Champion, and who have not been observed in friendly conversation with +anybody at all, now have their heads together. Mr. Billings goes +sauntering by, but cannot hear what they are saying. Something must be +done, and right away, and the knowing metropolitan reporters are winking +at each other and declaring darkly that a sensation is about to turn up. + +Where is Hilary Vane? Doesn't he realize the danger? Or--traitorous +thought!--doesn't he care? To see his son nominated would be a singular +revenge for the indignities which are said to have been heaped upon him. +Does Hilary Vane, the strong man of the State, merely sit at the +keyboard, powerless, while the tempest itself shakes from the organ a new +and terrible music? Nearly, six hours he has sat at the basswood table, +while senators, congressmen, feudal chiefs, and even Chairman Doby +himself flit in and out, whisper in his ear, set papers before him, and +figures and problems, and telegrams from highest authority. He merely +nods his head, says a word now and then, or holds his peace. Does he +know what he's about? If they had not heard things concerning his +health,--and other things,--they would still feel safe. He seems the +only calm man to be found in the hall--but is the calm aberration? + +A conference in the corner of the platform, while the fourth ballot is +progressing, is held between Senators Whitredge and Greene, Mr. Ridout +and Mr. Manning. So far the Honourable Hilary has apparently done +nothing but let the storm take its course; a wing-footed messenger has +returned who has seen Mr. Thomas Gaylord walking rapidly up Maple Street, +and Austen Vane (most astute and reprehensible of politicians) is said to +be at the Widow Peasley's, quietly awaiting the call. The name of Austen +Vane--another messenger says--is running like wildfire through the hall, +from row to row. Mr. Crewe has no chance--so rumour goes. A reformer +(to pervert the saying of a celebrated contemporary humorist) must fight +Marquis of Queensberry to win; and the People's Champion, it is averred, +has not. Shrewd country delegates who had listened to the Champion's +speeches and had come to the capital prepared to vote for purity, had +been observing the movements since yesterday, of Mr. Tooting and Mr. +Wading with no inconsiderable interest. Now was the psychological moment +for Austen Vane, but who was to beard Hilary? + +No champion was found, and the Empire, the fate of which was in the hands +of a madman, was cracking. Let an individual of character and known +anti-railroad convictions (such as the gentleman said to be at the Widow +Peasley's) be presented to the convention, and they would nominate him. +Were Messrs. Bascom and Botcher going to act the part of Samsons? Were +they working for revenge and a new regime? Mr. Whitredge started for the +Pelican, not at his ordinary senatorial gait, to get Mr. Flint on the +telephone. + +The result of the fourth ballot was announced, and bedlam broke loose. + +The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . 419 +The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . . 337 +The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has . . . 256 + +Total, one thousand and eleven out of a thousand! Two delegates +abstained from voting, and proclaimed the fact, but were heard only a few +feet away. Other delegates, whose flesh and blood could stand the +atmosphere no longer, were known to have left the hall! Aha! the secret +is out, if anybody could hear it. At the end of every ballot several +individuals emerge and mix with the crowd in the street. Astute men +sometimes make mistakes, and the following conversation occurs between +one of the individuals in question and Mr. Crewe's chauffeur. + + Individual: "Do you want to come in and see the convention and + vote?" + + Chauffeur: "I am Frenchman." + + Individual: "That doesn't cut any ice. I'll make out the ballot, + and all you'll have to do is to drop it in the box." + Chauffeur: "All right; I vote for Meester Crewe." + +Sudden disappearance of the individual. + +Nor is this all. The Duke of Putnam, for example, knows how many +credentials there are in his county--say, seventy-six. He counts the men +present and voting, and his result is sixty-one. Fifteen are absent, +getting food or--something else. Fifteen vote over again. But, as the +human brain is prone to error, and there are men in the street, the Duke +miscalculates; the Earl of Haines miscalculates, too. Result--eleven +over a thousand votes, and some nine hundred men in the hall! + +How are you going to stop it? Mr. Watling climbs up on the platform and +shakes his fist in General Doby's face, and General Doby tearfully +appeals for an honest ballot--to the winds. + +In the meantime the Honourable Elisha Jane, spurred on by desperation and +thoughts of a 'dolce far niente' gone forever; has sought and cornered +Mr. Bascom. + +"For God's sake, Brush," cries the Honourable Elisha, "hasn't this thing +gone far enough? A little of it is all right--the boys understand that; +but have you thought what it means to you and me if these blanked +reformers get in,--if a feller like Austen Vane is nominated?" + +That cold, hard glitter which we have seen was in Mr. Bascom's eyes. + +"You fellers have got the colic," was the remark of the arch-rebel. "Do +you think old Hilary doesn't know what he's about?" + +"It looks that way to me," said Mr. Jane. + +"It looks that way to Doby too, I guess," said Mr. Bascom, with a glance +of contempt at the general; "he's lost about fifteen pounds to-day. Did +Hilary send you down here?" he demanded. + +"No," Mr. Jane confessed. + +"Then go back and chase yourself around the platform some more," was Mr. +Bascom's unfeeling advice, "and don't have a fit here. All the brains in +this hall are in Hilary's room. When he's ready to talk business with me +in behalf of the Honourable Giles Henderson, I guess he'll do so." + +But fear had entered the heart of the Honourable Elisha, and there was a +sickly feeling in the region of his stomach which even the strong +medicine administered by the Honourable Brush failed to alleviate. He +perceived Senator Whitredge, returned from the Pelican. But the advice-- +if any--the president of the Northeastern has given the senator is not +forthcoming in practice. Mr. Flint, any more than Ulysses himself, +cannot recall the tempests when his own followers have slit the bags--and +in sight of Ithaca! Another conference at the back of the stage, out of +which emerges State Senator Nat Billings and gets the ear of General +Doby. + +"Let 'em yell," says Mr. Billings--as though the general, by raising one +adipose hand, could quell the storm. Eyes are straining, scouts are +watching at the back of the hall and in the street, for the first glimpse +of the dreaded figure of Mr. Thomas Gaylord. "Let 'em yell;" counsels +Mr. Billings, "and if they do nominate anybody nobody'll hear 'em. And +send word to Putnam County to come along on their fifth ballot." + +It is Mr. Billings himself who sends word to Putnam County, in the name +of the convention's chairman. Before the messenger can reach Putnam +County another arrives on the stage, with wide pupils, "Tom Gaylord is +coming!" This momentous news, Marconi-like, penetrates the storm, and is +already on the floor. Mr. Widgeon and Mr. Redbrook are pushing their way +towards the door. The conference, emboldened by terror, marches in a +body into the little room, and surrounds the calmly insane Lieutenant- +general of the forces; it would be ill-natured to say that visions of +lost railroad commissionerships, lost consulships, lost postmasterships,- +-yes, of lost senatorships, were in these loyal heads at this crucial +time. + +It was all very well (so said the first spokesman) to pluck a few +feathers from a bird so bountifully endowed as the Honourable Adam, but +were not two gentlemen who should be nameless carrying the joke a little +too far? Mr. Vane unquestionably realized what he was doing, but--was it +not almost time to call in the two gentlemen and--and come to some +understanding? + +"Gentlemen," said the Honourable Hilary, apparently unmoved, "I have not +seen Mr. Bascom or Mr. Botcher since the sixteenth day of August, and I +do not intend to." + +Some clearing of throats followed this ominous declaration,--and a +painful silence. The thing must be said and who would say it? Senator +Whitredge was the hero. + +Mr. Thomas Gaylord has just entered the convention hall, and is said to +be about to nominate--a dark horse. The moment was favourable, the +convention demoralized, and at least one hundred delegates had left the +hall. (How about the last ballot, Senator, which showed 1011?) + +The Honourable Hilary rose abruptly, closed the door to shut out the +noise, and turned and looked Mr. Whitredge in the eye. + +"Who is the dark horse?" he demanded. + +The members of the conference coughed again, looked at each other, and +there was a silence. For some inexplicable reason, nobody cared to +mention the name of Austen Vane. + +The Honourable Hilary pointed at the basswood table. + +"Senator," he said, "I understand you have been telephoning Mr. Flint. +Have you got orders to sit down there?" + +"My dear sir," said the Senator, "you misunderstand me." + +"Have you got orders to sit down there?" Mr. Vane repeated. + +"No," answered the Senator, "Mr. Flint's confidence in you--" + +The Honourable Hilary sat down again, and at that instant the door was +suddenly flung open by Postmaster Bill Fleeting of Brampton, his genial +face aflame with excitement and streaming with perspiration. Forgotten, +in this moment, is senatorial courtesy and respect for the powers of the +feudal system. + +"Say, boys," he cried, "Putnam County's voting, and there's be'n no +nomination and ain't likely to be. Jim Scudder, the station-master at +Wye, is here on credentials, and he says for sure the thing's fizzled +out, and Tom Gaylord's left the hall!" + +Again a silence, save for the high hum let in through the open doorway. +The members of the conference stared at the Honourable Hilary, who seemed +to have forgotten their presence; for he had moved his chair to the +window, and was gazing out over the roofs at the fast-fading red in the +western sky. + +An hour later, when the room was in darkness save for the bar of light +that streamed in from the platform chandelier, Senator Whitredge entered. + +"Hilary!" he said. + +There was no answer. Mr. Whitredge felt in his pocket for a match, +struck it, and lighted the single jet over the basswood table. Mr. Vane +still sat by the window. The senator turned and closed the door, and +read from a paper in his hand; so used was he to formality that he read +it formally, yet with a feeling of intense relief, of deference, of +apology. + +"Fifth ballot:-- + +The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . 587 +The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has. . . 230 +The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . 154 + +And Giles Henderson is nominated--Hilary?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Vane. + +"I don't think any of us were--quite ourselves to-day. It wasn't that we +didn't believe in you--but we didn't have all the threads in our hands, +and--for reasons which I think I can understand--you didn't take us into +your confidence. I want to--" + +The words died on the senator's lips. So absorbed had he been in his +momentous news, and solicitous over the result of his explanation, that +his eye looked outward for the first time, and even then accidentally. + +"Hilary!" he cried; "for God's sake, what's the matter? Are you sick?" + +"Yes, Whitredge," said Mr. Vane, slowly, "sick at heart." + +It was but natural that these extraordinary and incomprehensible words +should have puzzled and frightened the senator more than ever. + +"Your heart!" he repeated. + +"Yes, my heart," said Hilary. + +The senator reached for the ice-water on the table. + +"Here," he cried, pouring out a glass, "it's only the heat--it's been a +hard day--drink this." + +But Hilary did not raise his arm. The door opened others coming to +congratulate Hilary Vane on the greatest victory he had ever won. +Offices were secure once more, the feudal system intact, and rebels +justly punished; others coming to make their peace with the commander +whom, senseless as they were, they had dared to doubt. + +They crowded past each other on the threshold, and stood grouped beyond +the basswood table, staring--staring--men suddenly come upon a tragedy +instead of a feast, the senator still holding the glass of water in a +hand that trembled and spilled it. And it was the senator, after all, +who first recovered his presence of mind. He set down the water, pushed +his way through the group into the hall, where the tumult and the +shouting die. Mr. Giles Henderson, escorted, is timidly making his way +towards the platform to read his speech of acceptance of a willing +bondage, when a voice rings out:-- + +"If there is a physician in the house, will he please come forward?" + +And then a hush,--and then the buzz of comment. Back to the little room +once more, where they are gathered speechless about Hilary Vane. And the +doctor comes young Dr. Tredway of Ripton, who is before all others. + +"I expected this to happen, gentlemen," he said, "and I have been here +all day, at the request of Mr. Vane's son, for this purpose." + +"Austen!" + +It was Hilary who spoke. + +"I have sent for him," said the doctor. "And now, gentlemen, if you will +kindly--" + +They withdrew and the doctor shut the door. Outside, the Honourable +Giles is telling them how seriously he regards the responsibility of the +honour thrust upon him by a great party. But nobody hears him in the +wild rumours that fly from mouth to mouth as the hall empties. Rushing +in against the tide outpouring, tall, stern, vigorous, is a young man +whom many recognize, whose name is on many lips as they make way for him, +who might have saved them if he would. The door of the little room +opens, and he stands before his father, looking down at him. And the +stern expression is gone from his face. + +"Austen!" said Mr. Vane. + +"Yes, Judge." + +"Take me away from here. Take me home--now--to-night." + +Austen glanced at Dr. Tredway. + +"It is best," said the doctor; "we will take him home--to-night." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE VOICE OF AN ERA + +They took him home, in the stateroom of the sleeper attached to the night +express from the south, although Mr. Flint, by telephone, had put a +special train at his disposal. The long service of Hilary Vane was over; +he had won his last fight for the man he had chosen to call his master; +and those who had fought behind him, whose places, whose very luminary +existences, had depended on his skill, knew that the end had come; nay, +were already speculating, manoeuvring, and taking sides. Who would be +the new Captain-general? Who would be strong enough to suppress the +straining ambitions of the many that the Empire might continue to +flourish in its integrity and gather tribute? It is the world-old cry +around the palace walls: Long live the new ruler--if you can find him +among the curdling factions. + +They carried Hilary home that September night, when Sawanec was like a +gray ghost-mountain facing the waning moon, back to the home of those +strange, Renaissance Austens which he had reclaimed for a grim +puritanism, and laid him in the carved and canopied bedstead Channing +Austen had brought from Spain. Euphrasia had met them at the door, but a +trained nurse from the Ripton hospital was likewise in waiting; and a New +York specialist had been summoned to prolong, if possible, the life of +one from whom all desire for life had passed. + +Before sunrise a wind came from the northern spruces; the dawn was +cloudless, fiery red, and the air had an autumn sharpness. At ten +o'clock Dr. Harmon arrived, was met at the station by Austen, and spent +half an hour with Dr. Tredway. At noon the examination was complete. +Thanks to generations of self-denial by the Vanes of Camden Street, Mr. +Hilary Vane might live indefinitely, might even recover, partially; but +at present he was condemned to remain, with his memories, in the great +canopied bed. + +The Honourable Hilary had had another caller that morning besides Dr. +Harmon,--no less a personage than the president of the Northeastern +Railroads himself, who had driven down from Fairview immediately after +breakfast. Austen having gone to the station, Dr. Tredway had received +Mr. Flint in the darkened hall, and had promised to telephone to Fairview +the verdict of the specialist. At present Dr. Tredway did not think it +wise to inform Hilary of Mr. Flint's visit--not, at least, until after +the examination. + +Mr. Vane exhibited the same silent stoicism on receiving the verdict of +Dr. Harmon as he had shown from the first. With the clew to Hilary's +life which Dr. Tredway had given him, the New York physician understood +the case; one common enough in his practice in a great city where the +fittest survive--sometimes only to succumb to unexpected and irreparable +blows in the evening of life. + +On his return from seeing Dr. Harmon off Austen was met on the porch by +Dr. Tredway. + +"Your father has something on his mind," said the doctor, "and perhaps it +is just as well that he should be relieved. He is asking for you, and I +merely wished to advise you to make the conversation as short as +possible." + +Austen climbed the stairs in obedience to this summons, and stood before +his father at the bedside. Hilary lay, back among the pillows, and the +brightness of that autumn noonday only served to accentuate the pallor of +his face, the ravages of age which had come with such incredible +swiftness, and the outline of a once vigorous frame. The eyes alone +shone with a strange new light, and Austen found it unexpectedly +difficult to speak. He sat down on the bed and laid his hand on the +helpless one that rested on the coverlet. + +"Austen," said Mr. Vane, "I want you to go to Fairview." + +His son's hand tightened over his own. + +"Yes, Judge." + +"I want you to go now." + +"Yes, Judge." + +"You know the combination of my safe at the office. It's never been +changed since--since you were there. Open it. You will find two tin +boxes, containing papers labelled Augustus P. Flint. I want you to take +them to Fairview and put them into the hands of Mr. Flint himself. I--I +cannot trust any one else. I promised to take them myself, but--Flint +will understand." + +"I'll go right away," said Austen, rising, and trying to speak +cheerfully. "Mr. Flint was here early this morning--inquiring for you." + +Hilary Vane's lips trembled, and another expression came into his eyes. + +"Rode down to look at the scrap-heap,--did he?" + +Austen strove to conceal his surprise at his father's words and change of +manner. + +"Tredway saw him," he said. "I'm pretty sure Mr. Flint doesn't feel that +way, Judge. He has taken your illness very much to heart, I know, and he +left some fruit and flowers for you." + +"I guess his daughter sent those," said Hilary. + +"His daughter?" Austen repeated. + +"If I didn't think so," Mr. Vane continued, "I'd send 'em back. I never +knew what she was until she picked me up and drove me down here. I've +always done Victoria an injustice." + +Austen walked to the door, and turned slowly. + +"I'll go at once, Judge," he said. + +In the kitchen he was confronted by Euphrasia. + +"When is that woman going away?" she demanded. "I've took care of Hilary +Vane nigh on to forty years, and I guess I know as much about nursing, +and more about Hilary, than that young thing with her cap and apron. I +told Dr. Tredway so. She even came down here to let me know what to cook +for him, and I sent her about her business." + +Austen smiled. It was the first sign, since his return the night before, +Euphrasia had given that an affection for Hilary Vane lurked beneath the +nature. + +"She won't stay long, Phrasie," he answered, and added mischievously, +"for a very good reason." + +"And what's that?" asked Euphrasia. + +"Because you won't allow her to. I have a notion that she'll pack up and +leave in about three days, and that all the doctors in Ripton couldn't +keep her here." + +"Get along with you," said Euphrasia, who could not for the life of her +help looking a little pleased. + +"I'm going off for a few hours," he said more seriously. "Dr. Tredway +tells me they do not look for any developments--for the worse." + +"Where are you going?" asked Euphrasia, sharply. + +"To Fairview," he said. + +Euphrasia moved the kettle to another part of the stove. + +"You'll see her?" she said. + +"Who?" Austen asked. But his voice must have betrayed him a little, for +Euphrasia turned and seized him by the elbows and looked up into his +face. + +"Victoria," she said. + +He felt himself tremble at the name,--at the strangeness of its sound on +Euphrasia's lips. + +"I do not expect to see Miss Flint," he answered, controlling himself as +well as he was able. "I have an errand for the Judge with Mr. Flint +himself." + +Euphrasia had guessed his secret! But how? + +"Hadn't you better see her?" said Euphrasia, in a curious monotone. + +"But I have no errand with her," he objected, mystified yet excited by +Euphrasia's manner. + +"She fetched Hilary home," said Euphrasia. + +"Yes." + +She couldn't have be'n kinder if she was his own daughter." + +"I know--" he began, but Euphrasia interrupted. + +"She sent that Englishman for the doctor, and waited to take the news to +her father, and she came out in this kitchen and talked to me." + +Austen started. Euphrasia was not looking at him now, and suddenly she +dropped his arms and went to the window overlooking the garden. + +"She wouldn't go in the parlour, but come right out here in her fine +clothes. I told her I didn't think she belonged in a kitchen--but I +guess I did her an injustice," said Euphrasia, slowly. + +"I think you did," he said, and wondered. + +"She looked at that garden," Euphrasia went on, "and cried out. I didn't +callate she was like that. And the first thing I knew I was talking +about your mother, and I'd forgot who I was talking to. She wahn't like +a stranger--it was just as if I'd known her always. I haven't understood +it yet. And after a while I told her about that verse, and she wanted to +see it--the verse about the skylark, you know--" + +"Yes," said Austen. + +"Well, the way she read it made me cry, it brought back Sarah Austen so. +Somehow, I can't account for it, she puts me in mind of your mother." + +Austen did not speak. + +"In more ways than one," said Euphrasia. "I didn't look to find her so +natural--and so gentle. And their she has a way of scolding you, just as +Sarah Austen had, that you'd never suspect." + +"Did she scold you--Phrasie?" asked Austen. And the irresistible humour +that is so near to sorrow made him smile again. + +"Indeed she did! And it surprised, me some--coming right out of a summer +sky. I told her what I thought about Hilary, and how he'd driven you out +of your own mother's house. She said you'd ought to be sent for, and I +said you oughtn't to set foot in this house until Hilary sent for you. +She said I'd no right to take such a revenge--that you'd come right away +if you knew Hilary'd had a stroke, and that Hilary'd never send for you-- +because he couldn't. She said he was like a man on a desert island." + +"She was right," answered Austen. + +"I don't know about that," said Euphrasia; "she hadn't put up with Hilary +for forty years, as I had, and seen what he'd done to your mother and +you. But that's what she said. And she went for you herself, when she +found the doctor couldn't go. Austen, ain't you going to see her?" + +Austen shook his head gently, and smiled at her. + +"I'm afraid it's no use, Phrasie," he said. "Just because she has been-- +kind we mustn't be deceived. It's h er nature to be kind." + +Euphrasia crossed the room swiftly, and seized his arm again. + +"She loves you, Austen," she cried; "she loves you. Do you think that +I'd love her, that I'd plead for her, if she didn't?" + +Austen's breath came deeply. He disengaged himself, and went to the +window. + +"No," he said, "you don't know. You can't--know. I have only seen her-- +a few times. She lives a different life--and with other people. She +will marry a man who can give her more." + +"Do you think I could be deceived?" exclaimed Euphrasia, almost fiercely. +"It's as true as the sun shining on that mountain. You believe she loves +the Englishman, but I tell you she loves you--you." + +He turned towards her. + +"How do you know?" he asked, as though he were merely curious. + +"Because I'm a woman, and she's a woman," said Euphrasia. "Oh, she +didn't confess it. If she had, I shouldn't think so much of her. But +she told me as plain as though she had spoken it in words, before she +left this room." + +Austen shook his head again. + +"Phrasie," he said, "I'm afraid you've been building castles in Spain." +And he went out, and across to the stable to harness Pepper. + +Austen did not believe Euphrasia. On that eventful evening when Victoria +had called at Jabe Jenney's, the world's aspect had suddenly changed for +him; old values had faded,--values which, after all, had been but tints +and glows,--and sterner but truer colours took their places. He saw +Victoria's life in a new perspective,--one in which his was but a small +place in the background of her numerous beneficences; which was, after +all, the perspective in which he had first viewed it. But, by degrees, +the hope that she loved him had grown and grown until it had become +unconsciously the supreme element of his existence,--the hope that stole +sweetly into his mind with the morning light, and stayed him through the +day, and blended into the dreams of darkness. + +By inheritance, by tradition, by habits of thought, Austen Vane was an +American,--an American as differentiated from the citizen of any other +nation upon the earth. The French have an expressive phrase in speaking +of a person as belonging to this or that world, meaning the circle by +which the life of an individual is bounded; the true American recognizes +these circles--but with complacency, and with a sure knowledge of his +destiny eventually to find himself within the one for which he is best +fitted by his talents and his tastes. The mere fact that Victoria had +been brought up amongst people with whom he had nothing in common would +not have deterred Austen Vane from pressing his suit; considerations of +honour had stood in the way, and hope had begun to whisper that these +might, in the end, be surmounted. Once they had disappeared, and she +loved him, that were excuse and reason enough. + +And suddenly the sight of Victoria with a probable suitor--who at once +had become magnified into an accepted suitor--had dispelled hope. +Euphrasia! Euphrasia had been deceived as he had, by a loving kindness +and a charity that were natural. But what so natural (to one who had +lived the life of Austen Vane) as that she should marry amongst those +whose ways of life were her ways? In the brief time in which he had seen +her and this other man, Austen's quickened perceptions had detected tacit +understanding, community of interest, a habit of thought and manner,--in +short, a common language, unknown to him, between the two. And, more +than these, the Victoria of the blissful excursions he had known was +changed as she had spoken to him--constrained, distant, apart; although +still dispensing kindness, going out of her way to bring Hilary home, and +to tell him of Hilary's accident. Rumour, which cannot be confined in +casks or bottles, had since informed Austen Vane that Mr. Rangely had +spent the day with Victoria, and had remained at Fairview far into the +evening; rumour went farther (thanks to Mrs. Pomfret) and declared the +engagement already an accomplished fact. And to Austen, in the twilight +in front of Jabe Jenney's, the affair might well have assumed the +proportions of an intimacy of long standing rather than that of the +chance acquaintance of an hour. Friends in common, modes of life in +common, and incidents in common are apt to sweep away preliminaries. + +Such were Austen's thoughts as he drove to Fairview that September +afternoon when the leaves were turning their white backs to the northwest +breeze. The sun was still high, and the distant hills and mountains were +as yet scarce stained with blue, and stood out in startling clearness +against the sky. Would he see her? That were a pain he scarce dared +contemplate. + +He reached the arched entrance, was on the drive. Here was the path +again by which she had come down the hillside; here was the very stone on +which she had stood--awaiting him. Why? Why had she done that? Well- +remembered figure amidst the yellow leaves dancing in the sunlight! Here +he had stopped, perforce, and here he had looked up into his face and +smiled and spoken! + +At length he gained the plateau across which the driveway ran, between +round young maples, straight to Fairview House, and he remembered the +stares from the tea-tables, and how she had come out to his rescue. Now +the lawn was deserted, save for a gardener among the shrubs. He rang the +stable-bell, and as he waited for an answer to his summons, the sense of +his remoteness from these surroundings of hers deepened, and with a touch +of inevitable humour he recalled the low-ceiled bedroom at Mr. Jenney's +and the kitchen in Hanover Street; the annual cost of the care of that +lawn and driveway might well have maintained one of these households. + +He told the stable-boy to wait. It is to be remarked as curious that the +name of the owner of the house on Austen's lips brought the first thought +of him to Austen's mind. He was going to see and speak with Mr. Flint, a +man who had been his enemy ever since the day he had come here and laid +down his pass on the president's desk; the man who--so he believed until +three days ago--had stood between him and happiness. Well, it did not +matter now. + +Austen followed the silent-moving servant through the hall. Those were +the stairs which knew her feet, these the rooms--so subtly flower- +scented--she lived in; then came the narrow passage to the sterner +apartment of the master himself. Mr. Flint was alone, and seated upright +behind the massive oak desk, from which bulwark the president of the +Northeastern was wont to meet his opponents and his enemies; and few +visitors came into his presence, here or elsewhere, who were not to be +got the better of, if possible. A life-long habit had accustomed Mr. +Flint to treat all men as adversaries until they were proved otherwise. +His square, close-cropped head, his large features, his alert eyes, were +those of a fighter. + +He did not rise, but nodded. Suddenly Austen was enveloped in a flame of +wrath that rose without warning and blinded him, and it was with a +supreme effort to control himself that he stopped in the doorway. He was +frightened, for he had felt this before, and he knew it for the anger +that demands physical violence. + +"Come in, Mr. Vane," said the president. + +Austen advanced to the desk, and laid the boxes before Mr. Flint. + +"Mr. Vane told me to say that he would have brought these himself, had it +been possible. Here is the list, and I shall be much obliged if you will +verify it before I go back." + +"Sit down." said Mr. Flint. + +Austen sat down, with the corner of the desk between them, while Mr. +Flint opened the boxes and began checking off the papers on the list. + +"How is your father this afternoon?" he asked, without looking up. + +"As well as can be expected," said Austen. + +"Of course nobody knew his condition but himself," Mr. Flint continued; +"but it was a great shock to me--when he resigned as my counsel three +days ago." + +Austen laid his forearm on the desk, and his hand closed. + +"He resigned three days ago?" he exclaimed. + +Mr. Flint was surprised, but concealed it. + +"I can understand, under the circumstances, how he has overlooked telling +you. His resignation takes effect to-day." + +Austen was silent a moment, while he strove to apply this fact to his +father's actions. + +"He waited until after the convention." + +"Exactly," said Mr. Flint, catching the implied accusation in Austen's +tone; "and needless to say, if I had been able to prevent his going, in +view of what happened on Monday night, I should have done so. As you +know, after his--accident, he went to the capital without informing any +one." + +"As a matter of honour," said Austen. + +Mr. Flint looked up from the papers, and regarded him narrowly, for the +tone in which this was spoken did not escape the president of the +Northeastern. He saw, in fact, that at the outset he had put a weapon +into Austen's hands. Hilary's resignation was a vindication of Austen's +attitude, an acknowledgment that the business and political practices of +his life had been wrong. + +What Austen really felt, when he had grasped the significance of that +fact, was relief--gratitude. A wave of renewed affection for his father +swept over him, of affection and pity and admiration, and for the instant +he forgot Mr. Flint. + +"As a matter of honour," Mr. Flint repeated. "Knowing he was ill, Mr. +Vane insisted upon going to that convention, even at the risk of his +life. It is a fitting close to a splendid career, and one that will not +soon be forgotten." + +Austen merely looked at Mr. Flint, who may have found the glance a trifle +disconcerting, for he turned to the papers again. + +"I repeat," he went on presently, "that this illness of Mr. Vane's is not +only a great loss to the Northeastern system, but a great blow to me +personally. I have been associated with him closely for more than a +quarter of a century, and I have never seen a lawyer of greater +integrity, clear-headedness, and sanity of view. He saw things as they +were, and he did as much to build up the business interests and the +prosperity of this State as any man I know of. He was true to his word, +and true to his friends." + +Still Austen did not reply. He continued to look at Mr. Flint, and Mr. +Flint continued to check the papers only more slowly. He had nearly +finished the first box. + +"A wave of political insanity, to put it mildly, seems to be sweeping +over this country," said the president of the Northeastern. "Men who +would paralyze and destroy the initiative of private enterprise, men who +themselves are ambitious, and either incapable or unsuccessful, have +sprung up; writers who have no conscience, whose one idea is to make +money out of a passing craze against honest capital, have aided them. +Disappointed and dangerous politicians who merely desire office and power +have lifted their voices in the hue and cry to fool the honest voter. I +am glad to say I believe that the worst of this madness and rascality is +over; that the common sense of the people of this country is too great to +be swept away by the methods of these self-seekers; that the ordinary man +is beginning to see that his bread and butter depends on the brain of the +officers who are trying honestly to conduct great enterprises for the +benefit of the average citizen. + +"We did not expect to escape in this State," Mr. Flint went on, raising +his head and meeting Austen's look; "the disease was too prevalent and too +catching for the weak-minded. We had our self-seekers who attempted to +bring ruin upon an institution which has done more for our population +than any other. I do not hesitate to speak of the Northeastern Railroads +as an institution, and as an institution which has been as +conscientiously and conservatively conducted as any in the country, and +with as scrupulous a regard for the welfare of all. Hilary Vane, as you +doubtless know, was largely responsible for this. My attention, as +president of all the roads, has been divided. Hilary Vane guarded the +interests in this State, and no man could have guarded them better. He +well deserves the thanks of future generations for the uncompromising +fight he made against such men and such methods. It has broken him down +at a time of life when he has earned repose, but he has the satisfaction +of knowing that he has won the battle for conservative American +principles, and that he has nominated a governor worthy of the traditions +of the State." + +And Mr. Flint started checking off the papers again. Had the occasion +been less serious, Austen could have smiled at Mr. Flint's ruse--so +characteristic of the tactics of the president of the Northeastern--of +putting him into a position where criticism of the Northeastern and its +practices would be criticism of his own father. As it was, he only set +his jaw more firmly, an expression indicative of contempt for such +tactics. He had not come there to be lectured out of the "Book of +Arguments" on the divine right of railroads to govern, but to see that +certain papers were delivered in safety. + +Had his purpose been deliberately to enter into a contest with Mr. Flint, +Austen could not have planned the early part of it any better than by +pursuing this policy of silence. To a man of Mr. Flint's temperament and +training, it was impossible to have such an opponent within reach without +attempting to hector him into an acknowledgment of the weakness of his +position. Further than this, Austen had touched him too often on the +quick merely to be considered in the light of a young man who held +opposite and unfortunate views--although it was Mr. Flint's endeavour to +put him in this light. The list of injuries was too fresh in Mr. Flint's +mind--even that last conversation with Victoria, in which she had made it +plain that her sympathies were with Austen. + +But with an opponent who would not be led into ambush, who had the +strength to hold his fire under provocation, it was no easy matter to +maintain a height of conscious, matter-of-fact rectitude and implied +reproof. Austen's silence, Austen's attitude, declared louder than words +the contempt for such manoeuvres of a man who knows he is in the right-- +and knows that his adversary knows it. It was this silence and this +attitude which proclaimed itself that angered Mr. Flint, yet made him +warily conceal his anger and change his attack. + +"It is some years since we met, Mr. Vane," he remarked presently. + +Austen's face relaxed into something of a smile. + +"Four, I think," he answered. + +"You hadn't long been back from that Western experience. Well, your +father has one decided consolation; you have fulfilled his hope that you +would settle down here and practise in the State. And I hear that you +are fast forging to the front. You are counsel for the Gaylord Company, +I believe." + +"The result of an unfortunate accident," said Austen; "Mr. Hammer died." + +"And on the occasion when you did me the honour to call on me," said Mr. +Flint, "if I remember rightly, you expressed some rather radical views-- +for the son of Hilary Vane." + +"For the son of Hilary Vane," Austen agreed, with a smile. + +Mr. Flint ignored the implication in the repetition. + +"Thinking as mach as I do of Mr. Vane, I confess that your views at that +time rather disturbed me. It is a matter of relief to learn that you +have refused to lend yourself to the schemes of men like our neighbour, +Mr. Humphrey Crewe, of Leith." + +"Honesty compels me to admit," answered Austen, "that I did not refrain +on Mr. Crewe's account." + +"Although," said Mr. Flint, drumming on the table, "there was some talk +that you were to be brought forward as a dark horse in the convention, +and as a candidate unfriendly to the interests of the Northeastern +Railroads, I am glad you did not consent to be put in any such position. +I perceive that a young man of your ability and--popularity, a Vane of +Camden Street, must inevitably become a force in this State. And as a +force, you must retain the conservatism of the Vanes--the traditional +conservatism of the State. The Northeastern Railroads will continue to +be a very large factor in the life of the people after you and I are +gone, Mr. Vane. You will have to live, as it were, with that +corporation, and help to preserve it. We shall have to work together, +perhaps, to that end--who can say? I repeat, I am glad that your good +sense led you to refrain from coming as a candidate before that +Convention. There is time enough in the future, and you could not have +been nominated." + +"On the contrary," answered Austen, quietly, "I could have been +nominated." + +Mr. Flint smiled knowingly--but with an effort. What a relief it would +have been to him to charge horse and foot, to forget that he was a +railroad president dealing with a potential power. + +"Do you honestly believe that?" he asked. + +"I am not accustomed to dissemble my beliefs," said Austen, gravely. +"The fact that my father had faith enough in me to count with certainty +on my refusal to go before the convention enabled him to win the +nomination for the candidate of your railroads." + +Mr. Flint continued to smile, but into his eyes had crept a gleam of +anger. + +"It is easy to say such things--after the convention," he remarked. + +"And it would have been impossible to say their before," Austen responded +instantly, with a light in his own eyes. "My nomination was the only +disturbing factor in the situation for you and the politicians who had +your interests in hand, and it was as inevitable as night and day that +the forces of the candidates who represented the two wings of the machine +of the Northeastern Railroads should have united against Mr. Crewe. I +want to say to you frankly that if my father had not been the counsel for +your corporation, and responsible for its political success, or if he +could have resigned with honour before the convention, I should not have +refused to let my name go in. After all," he added, in a lower tone, and +with a slight gesture characteristic of him when a subject was +distasteful, "it doesn't matter who is elected governor this autumn." + +"What?" cried Mr. Flint, surprised out of his attitude as much by +Austen's manner as by Austen's words. + +"It doesn't matter," said Austen, "whether the Northeastern Railroads +have succeeded this time in nominating and electing a governor to whom +they can dictate, and who will reappoint railroad commissioners and other +State officials in their interests. The practices by which you have +controlled this State, Mr. Flint, and elected governors and councillors +and State and national senators are doomed. However necessary these +practices may have been from your point of view, they violated every +principle of free government, and were they to continue, the nation to +which we belong would inevitably decay and become the scorn of the world. +Those practices depended for their success on one condition,--which in +itself is the most serious of ills in a republic,--the ignorance and +disregard of the voter. You have but to read the signs of the times to +see clearly that the day of such conditions is past, to see that the +citizens of this State and this country are thinking for themselves, as +they should; are alive to the dangers and determined to avert it. You +may succeed in electing one more governor and one more senate, or two, +before the people are able to destroy the machinery you have built up and +repeal the laws you have made to sustain it. I repeat, it doesn't matter +in the long run. The era of political domination by a corporation, and +mainly for the benefit of a corporation, is over." + +Mr. Flint had been drumming on the desk, his face growing a darker red as +Austen proceeded: Never, since he had become president of the +Northeastern Railroads, had any man said such things to his face. And +the fact that Austen Vane had seemingly not spoken in wrath, although +forcefully enough to compel him to listen, had increased Mr. Flint's +anger. Austen apparently cared very little for him or his opinions in +comparison with his own estimate of right and wrong. + +"It seems," said Mr. Flint, "that you have grown more radical since your +last visit." + +"If it be radical to refuse to accept a pass from a railroad to bind my +liberty of action as an attorney and a citizen, then I am radical," +replied Austen. "If it be radical to maintain that the elected +representatives of the people should not receive passes, or be beholden +to any man or any corporation, I acknowledge the term. If it be radical +to declare that these representatives should be elected without +interference, and while in office should do exact justice to the body of +citizens on the one hand and the corporations on the other, I declare +myself a radical. But my radicalism goes back behind the establishment +of railroads, Mr. Flint, back to the foundation of this government, to +the idea from which it sprang." + +Mr. Flint smiled again. + +"We have changed materially since then," he said. "I am afraid such a +utopian state of affairs, beautiful as it is, will not work in the +twentieth century. It is a commercial age, and the interests which are +the bulwark of the country's strength must be protected." + +"Yes," said Austen, "we have changed materially. The mistake you make, +and men like you, is the stress which you lay on that word material. Are +there no such things as moral interests, Mr. Flint? And are they not +quite as important in government, if not more important, than material +interests? Surely, we cannot have commercial and political stability +without cominertial and political honour! if, as a nation, we lose sight +of the ideals which have carried us so far, which have so greatly +modified the conditions of other peoples than ourselves, we shall perish +as a force in the world. And if this government proves a failure, how +long do you think the material interests of which you are so solicitous +will endure? Or do you care whether they endure beyond your lifetime? +Perhaps not. But it is a matter of importance, not only to the nation, +but to the world, whether or not the moral idea of the United States of +America is perpetuated, I assure you." + +"I begin to fear, Mr. Vane," said the president of the Northeastern, +"that you have missed your vocation. Suppose I were to grant you, for +the sake of argument, that the Northeastern Railroads, being the largest +taxpayers in this State, have taken an interest in seeing that +conservative men fill responsible offices. Suppose such to be the case, +and we abruptly cease--to take such an interest. What then? Are we not +at the mercy of any and all unscrupulous men who build up a power of +their own, and start again the blackmail of the old days?" + +"You have put the case mildly," said Austen, and ingeniously. "As a +matter of fact, Mr. Flint, you know as well as I do that for years you +have governed this State absolutely, for the purpose of keeping down your +taxes, avoiding unnecessary improvements for safety and comfort, and +paying high dividends--" + +"Perhaps you realize that in depicting these criminal operations so +graphically," cried Mr. Flint, interrupting, "you are involving the +reputation of one of the best citizens the State ever had--your own +father." + +Austen Vane leaned forward across the desk, and even Mr. Flint (if the +truth were known) recoiled a little before the anger he had aroused. It +shot forth from Austen's eyes, proclaimed itself in the squareness of the +face, and vibrated in every word he spoke. + +"Mr. Flint," he said, "I refrain from comment upon your methods of +argument. There were many years in which my father believed the +practices which he followed in behalf of your railroad to be necessary-- +and hence justified. And I have given you the credit of holding the same +belief. Public opinion would not, perhaps, at that time have protected +your property from political blackmail. I merely wished you to know, Mr. +Flint, that there is no use in attempting to deceive me in regard to the +true colour of those practices. It is perhaps useless for me to add that +in my opinion you understand as well as I do the real reason for Mr. +Vane's resignation and illness. Once he became convinced that the +practices were wrong, he could no longer continue them without violating +his conscience. He kept his word to you--at the risk of his life, and, +as his son, I take a greater pride in him to-day than I ever have +before." + +Austen got to his feet. He was formidable even to Mr. Flint, who had met +many formidable, and angry men in his time--although not of this type. +Perhaps--who can say?--he was the in the mind of the president +unconscious embodiment of the Northeastern of the new forces which had +arisen against him,--forces which he knew in his secret soul he could not +combat, because they were the irresistible forces of things not material. +All his life he had met and successfully conquered forces of another +kind, and put down with a strong hand merely physical encroachments. + +Mr. Flint's nature was not an introspective one, and if he had tried, he +could not have accounted for his feelings. He was angry--that was +certain. But he measured the six feet and more of Austen Vane with his +eye, and in spite of himself experienced the compelled admiration of one +fighting man for another. A thought, which had made itself vaguely felt +at intervals in the past half hour, shot suddenly and poignantly through +Mr. Flint's mind what if this young man, who dared in spite of every +interest to oppose him, should in the apparently inevitable trend of +things, become...? + +Mr. Flint rose and went to the window, where he stood silent for a space, +looking out, played upon by unwonted conflicting thoughts and emotions. +At length, with a characteristic snap of the fingers, he turned abruptly. +Austen Vane was still standing beside the desk. His face was still +square, determined, but Mr. Flint noted curiously that the anger was gone +from his eyes, and that another--although equally human--expression had +taken its place,--a more disturbing expression, to Mr. Flint. + +"It appears, Mr. Vane," he said, gathering up the papers and placing them +in the boxes, "it appears that we are able to agree upon one point, at +least--Hilary Vane." + +"Mr. Flint," said Austen, "I did not come up here with any thought of +arguing with you, of intruding any ideas--I may hold, but you have +yourself asked me one question which I feel bound to answer to the best +of my ability before I go. You have asked me what, in my opinion, would +happen if you ceased--as you express it--to take an interest in the +political, affairs of this State. + +"I believe, as firmly as I stand here, that the public opinion which +exists to-day would protect your property, and I base that belief on the +good sense of the average American voter. The public would protect you +not only in its own interests, but from an inherent sense of fair play. +On the other hand, if you persist in a course of political manipulation +which is not only obsolete but wrong, you will magnify the just charges +against you, and the just wrath; you will put ammunition into the hands +of the agitators you rightly condemn. The stockholders of your +corporation, perhaps, are bound to suffer some from the fact that you +have taken its life-blood to pay dividends, and the public will demand +that it be built up into a normal and healthy condition. On the other +hand, it could not have gone on as it was. But the corporation will +suffer much more if a delayed justice is turned into vengeance. + +"You ask me what I could do. I should recognize, frankly, the new +conditions, and declare as frankly what the old ones were, and why such +methods of defence as you adopted were necessary and justified. I should +announce, openly, that from this day onward the Northeastern Railroads +depended for fair play on an enlightened public--and I think your trust +would be well founded, and your course vindicated. I should declare, +from this day onward, that the issue of political passes, newspaper +passes, and all other subterfuges would be stopped, and that all +political hirelings would be dismissed. I should appeal to the people of +this State to raise up political leaders who would say to the +corporations, 'We will protect you from injustice if you will come before +the elected representatives of the people, openly, and say what you want +and why you want it.' By such a course you would have, in a day, the +affection of the people instead of their distrust. They would rally to +your defence. And, more than that, you would have done a service for +American government the value of which cannot well be estimated." + +Mr. Flint rang the bell on his desk, and his secretary appeared. + +"Put these in my private safe, Mr. Freeman," he said. + +Mr. Freeman took the boxes, glanced curiously at Austen, and went out. +It was the same secretary, Austen recalled, who had congratulated him +four years before. Then Mr. Flint laid his hand deliberately on the +desk, and smiled slightly as he turned to Austen. + +"If you had run a railroad as long as I have, Mr. Vane," he said, "I do +you the credit of thinking that you would have intelligence enough to +grasp other factors which your present opportunities for observation have +not permitted you to perceive. Nevertheless, I am much obliged to you +for your opinion, and I value the--frankness in which it was given. And +I shall hope to hear good news of your father. Remember me to him, and +tell him how deeply I feel his affliction. I shall call again in a day +or two." + +Austen took up his hat. + +"Good day, Mr. Flint," he said; "I will tell him." + +By the time he had reached the door, Mr. Flint had gone back to the +window once more, and appeared to have forgotten his presence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE VALE OF THE BLUE + +Austen himself could not well have defined his mental state as he made +his way through the big rooms towards the door, but he was aware of one +main desire--to escape from Fairview. With the odours of the flowers in +the tall silver vases on the piano--her piano!--the spirit of desire +which had so long possessed him, waking and sleeping, returned,--returned +to torture him now with greater skill amidst these her possessions; her +volume of Chopin on the rack, bound in red leather and stamped with her +initials, which compelled his glance as he passed, and brought vivid to +his memory the night he had stood in the snow and heard her playing. So, +he told himself, it must always be, for him to stand in the snow +listening. + +He reached the hall, with a vast relief perceived that it was empty, and +opened the door and went out. Strange that he should note, first of all, +as he parsed a moment at the top of the steps, that the very day had +changed. The wind had fallen; the sun, well on his course towards the +rim of western hills, poured the golden light of autumn over field and +forest, while Sawanec was already in the blue shadow; the expectant +stillness of autumn reigned, and all unconsciously Austen's blood was +quickened though a quickening of pain. + +The surprise of the instant over, he noticed that his horse was gone,-- +had evidently been taken to the stables. And rather than ring the bell +and wait in the mood in which he found himself, he took the path through +the shrubbery from which he had seen the groom emerge. + +It turned beyond the corner of the house, descended a flight of stone +steps, and turned again. + +They stood gazing each at the other for a space of time not to be +computed before either spoke, and the sense of unreality which comes with +a sudden fulfilment of intense desire--or dread--was upon Austen. Could +this indeed be her figure, and this her face on which he watched the +colour rise (so he remembered afterwards) like the slow flood of day? +Were there so many Victorias, that a new one--and a strange one--should +confront him at every meeting? And, even while he looked, this Victoria, +too,--one who had been near him and departed,--was surveying him now from +an unapproachable height of self-possession and calm. She held out her +hand, and he took it, scarce knowing--that it was hers. + +"How do you do, Mr. Vane?" she said; "I did not expect to meet you here." + +"I was searching for the stable, to get my horse," he answered lamely. + +"And your father?" she asked quickly; "I hope he is not--worse." + +It was thus she supplied him, quite naturally, with an excuse for being +at Fairview. And yet her solicitude for Hilary was wholly unaffected. + +"Dr. Harmon, who came from New York, has been more encouraging than I had +dared to hope," said Austen. "And, by the way, Mr. Vane believes that +you had a share in the fruit and flowers which Mr. Flint so kindly +brought. If--he had known that I were to see you, I am sure he would +have wished me to thank you." + +Victoria turned, and tore a leaf from the spiraea. + +"I will show you where the stables are," she said; "the path divides a +little farther on--and you might find yourself in the kitchen." + +Austen smiled, and as she went on slowly, he followed her, the path not +being wide enough for them to walk abreast, his eyes caressing the stray +hairs that clustered about her neck and caught the light. It seemed so +real, and yet so unrealizable, that he should be here with her. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that I did not express my gratitude as I should +have done the evening you were good enough to come up to Jabe Jenney's." + +He saw her colour rise again, but she did not pause. + +"Please don't say anything about it, Mr. Vane. Of course I understand +how you felt," she cried. + +"Neither my father nor myself will forget that service," said Austen. + +"It was nothing," answered Victoria, in a low voice. "Or, rather, it was +something I shall always be glad that I did not miss. I have seen Mr. +Vane all my life, but I never=-never really knew him until that day. I +have come to the conclusion," she added, in a lighter tone, "that the +young are not always the best judges of the old. There," she added, "is +the path that goes to the kitchen, which you probably would have taken." + +He laughed. Past and future were blotted out, and he lived only in the +present. He could think of nothing but that she was here beside him. +Afterwards, cataclysms might come and welcome. + +"Isn't there another place," he asked, "where I might lose my way?" + +She turned and gave him one of the swift, searching looks he recalled so +well: a look the meaning of which he could not declare, save that she +seemed vainly striving to fathom something in him--as though he were not +fathomable! He thought she smiled a little as she took the left-hand +path. + +"You will remember me to your father?" she said. "I hope he is not +suffering." + +"He is not suffering," Austen replied. "Perhaps--if it were not too much +to ask--perhaps you might come to see him, sometime? I can think of +nothing that would give him greater pleasure." + +"I will come--sometime," she answered. "I am going away to-morrow, but--" + +"Away?" he repeated, in dismay. Now that he was beside her, all +unconsciously the dominating male spirit which was so strong in him, and +which moves not woman alone, but the world, was asserting itself. For +the moment he was the only man, and she the only woman, in the universe. + +"I am going on a promised visit to a friend of mine." + +"For how long?" he demanded. + +"I don't know, said Victoria, calmly; probably until she gets tired of +me. And there," she added, "are the stables, where no doubt you will +find your faithful Pepper." + +They had come out upon an elevation above the hard service drive, and +across it, below them, was the coach house with its clock-tower and +weather-vane, and its two wings, enclosing a paved court where a +whistling stable-boy was washing a carriage. Austen regarded this scene +an instant, and glanced back at her profile. It was expressionless. + +"Might I not linger--a few minutes?" he asked. + +Her lips parted slightly in a smile, and she turned her head. How +wonderfully, he thought, it was poised upon her shoulders. + +"I haven't been very hospitable, have I?" she said. But then, you seemed +in such a hurry to go, didn't you? You were walking so fast when I met +you that you quite frightened me." + +"Was I?" asked Austen, in surprise. + +She laughed. + +"You looked as if you were ready to charge somebody. But this isn't a +very nice place--to linger, and if you really will stay awhile," said +Victoria, "we might walk over to the dairy, where that model protege of +yours, Eben Fitch, whom you once threatened with corporal chastisement if +he fell from grace, is engaged. I know he will be glad to see you." + +Austen laughed as he caught up with her. She was already halfway across +the road. + +"Do you always beat people if they do wrong?" she asked. + +"It was Eben who requested it, if I remember rightly," he said. +"Fortunately, the trial has not yet arrived. Your methods," he added, +"seem to be more successful with Eben." + +They went down the grassy slope with its groups of half-grown trees; +through an orchard shot with slanting, yellow sunlight,--the golden +fruit, harvested by the morning winds, littering the ground; and then by +a gate into a dimpled, emerald pasture slope where the Guernseys were +feeding along a water run. They spoke of trivial things that found no +place in Austen's memory, and at times, upon one pretext or another, he +fell behind a little that he might feast his eyes upon her. + +Eben was not at the dairy, and Austen betraying no undue curiosity as to +his whereabouts, they walked on up the slopes, and still upward towards +the crest of the range of hills that marked the course of the Blue. He +did not allow his mind to dwell upon this new footing they were on, but +clung to it. Before, in those delicious moments with her, seemingly +pilfered from the angry gods, the sense of intimacy had been deep; deep, +because robbing the gods together, they had shared the feeling of guilt, +had known that retribution would coma. And now the gods had locked their +treasure-chest, although themselves powerless to redeem from him the +memory of what he had gained. Nor could they, apparently, deprive him of +the vision of her in the fields and woods beside him, though transformed +by their magic into a new Victoria, keeping him lightly and easily at a +distance. + +Scattering the sheep that flecked the velvet turf of the uplands, they +stood at length on the granite crown of the crest itself. Far below them +wound the Blue into its vale of sapphire shadows, with its hillsides of +the mystic fabric of the backgrounds of the masters of the Renaissance. +For a while they stood in silence under the spell of the scene's +enchantment, and then Victoria seated herself on the rock, and he dropped +to a place at her side. + +"I thought you would like the view," she said; "but perhaps you have been +here, perhaps I am taking you to one of your own possessions." + +He had flung his hat upon the rock, and she glanced at his serious, +sunburned face. His eyes were still fixed, contemplatively, on the Yale +of the Blue, but he turned to her with a smile. + +"It has become yours by right of conquest," he answered. + +She did not reply to that. The immobility of her face, save for the one +look she had flashed upon him, surprised and puzzled him more and more-- +the world--old, indefinable, eternal feminine quality of the Spring. + +"So you refused to be governor? she said presently,--surprising him +again. + +"It scarcely came to that," he replied. + +"What did it come to?" she demanded. + +He hesitated. + +"I had to go down to the capital, on my father's account, but I did not +go to the convention. I stayed," he said slowly, "at the little cottage +across from the Duncan house where--you were last winter." He paused, +but she gave no sign. "Tom Gaylord came up there late in the afternoon, +and wanted me to be a candidate." + +"And you refused?" + +"Yes." + +"But you could have been nominated!" + +"Yes," he admitted; "it is probable. The conditions were chaotic." + +"Are you sure you have done right?" she asked. "It has always seemed to +me from what I know and have heard of you that you were made for +positions of trust. You would have been a better governor than the man +they have nominated." + +His expression became set. + +"I am sure I have done right," he answered deliberately. "It doesn't +make any difference who is governor this time." + +"Doesn't make any difference!" she exclaimed. + +"No," he said. "Things have changed--the people have changed. The old +method of politics, which was wrong, although it had some justification +in conditions, has gone out. A new and more desirable state of affairs +has come. I am at liberty to say this much to you now," he added, fixing +his glance upon her, "because my father has resigned as counsel for the +Northeastern, and I have just had a talk with--Mr. Flint." + +"You have seen my father?" she asked, in a low voice, and her face was +averted. + +"Yes," he answered. + +"You--did not agree," she said quickly. + +His blood beat higher at the question and the manner of her asking it, +but he felt that he must answer it honestly, unequivocally, whatever the +cost. + +"No, we did not agree. It is only fair to tell you that we differed-- +vitally. On the other hand, it is just that you should know that we did +not part in anger, but, I think, with a mutual respect." + +She drew breath. + +"I knew," she said, "I knew if he could but talk to you he would +understand that you were sincere--and you have proved it. I am glad--I +am glad that you saw him." The quality of the sunlight changed, the very +hills leaped, and the river sparkled. Could she care? Why did she wish +her father to know that he was sincere. + +"You are glad that I saw him!" he repeated. + +But she met his glance steadily. + +"My father has so little faith in human nature," she answered. "He has +a faculty of doubting the honesty of his opponents--I suppose because so +many of them have been dishonest. And--I believe in my friends," she +added, smiling. "Isn't it natural that I should wish to have my judgment +vindicated?" + +He got to his feet and walked slowly to the far edge of the rock, where +he stood for a while, seemingly gazing off across the spaces to Sawanec. +It was like him, thus to question the immutable. Victoria sat +motionless, but her eyes followed irresistibly the lines of power in the +tall figure against the sky--the breadth of shoulder and slimness of hip +and length of limb typical of the men who had conquered and held this +land for their descendants. Suddenly, with a characteristic movement of +determination; he swung about and came towards her, and at the same +instant she rose. + +"Don't you think we should be going back?" she said. + +Rut he seemed not to hear her. + +"May I ask you something?" he said. + +"That depends," she answered. + +"Are you going to marry Mr. Rangely?" + +"No," she said, and turned away. "Why did you think that?" + +He quivered. + +"Victoria!" + +She looked up at him, swiftly, half revealed, her eyes like stars +surprised by the flush of dawn in her cheeks. Hope quickened at the +vision of hope, the seats of judgment themselves were filled with +radiance, and rumour, cowered and fled like the spirit of night. He +could only gaze, enraptured. + +"Yes?" she answered. + +His voice was firm but low, yet vibrant with sincerity, with the vast +store of feeling, of compelling magnetism that was in the man and moved +in spite of themselves those who knew him. His words Victoria remembered +afterwards--all of them; but it was to the call of the voice she +responded. His was the fibre which grows stronger in times of crisis. +Sure of himself, proud of the love which he declared, he spoke as a man +who has earned that for which he prays,--simply and with dignity. + +"I love you," he said; "I have known it since I have known you, but you +must see why I could not tell you so. It was very hard, for there were +times when I led myself to believe that you might come to love me. There +were times when I should have gone away if I hadn't made a promise to +stay in Ripton. I ask you to marry me, because I--know that I shall love +you as long as I live. I can give you this, at least, and I can promise +to protect and cherish you. I cannot give you that to which you have +been accustomed all your life, that which you have here at Fairview, but +I shouldn't say this to you if I believed that you cared for them above- +-other things." + +"Oh, Austen!" she cried, "I do not--I--do not! They would be hateful to +me--without you. I would rather live with you--at Jabe Jenney's," and +her voice caught in an exquisite note between laughter and tears. "I +love you, do you understand, you! Oh, how could you ever have doubted +it? How could you? What you believe, I believe. And, Austen, I have +been so unhappy for three days." + +He never knew whether, as the most precious of graces ever conferred upon +man, with a womanly gesture she had raised her arms and laid her hands +upon his shoulders before he drew her to him and kissed her face, that +vied in colour with the coming glow in the western sky. Above the prying +eyes of men, above the world itself, he held her, striving to realize +some little of the vast joy of this possession, and failing. And at last +she drew away from him, gently, that she might look searchingly into his +face again, and shook her head slowly. + +"And you were going away," she said, "without a word I thought--you +didn't care. How could I have known that you were just--stupid?" + +His eyes lighted with humour and tenderness. + +"How long have you cared, Victoria?" he asked. + +She became thoughtful. + +"Always, I think," she answered; "only I didn't know it. I think I loved +you even before I saw you." + +"Before you saw me!" + +"I think it began," said Victoria, "when I learned that you had shot Mr. +Blodgett--only I hope you will never do such a thing again. And you will +please try to remember," she added, after a moment, "that I am neither +Eben Fitch nor your friend, Tom Gaylord." + +Sunset found them seated on the rock, with the waters of the river turned +to wine at the miracle in the sky their miracle. At times their eyes +wandered to the mountain, which seemed to regard them from a discreet +distance--with a kindly and protecting majesty. + +"And you promised," said Victoria, "to take me up there. When will you +do it?" + +"I thought you were going away," he replied. + +"Unforeseen circumstances," she answered, "have compelled me to change my +plans." + +"Then we will go tomorrow," he said. + +"To the Delectable Land," said Victoria, dreamily; "your land, where we +shall be--benevolent despots. Austen?" + +"Yes?" He had not ceased to thrill at the sound of his name upon her +lips. + +"Do you think," she asked, glancing at him, "do you think you have money +enough to go abroad--just for a little while?" + +He laughed joyously. + +"I don't know," he said, "but I shall make it a point to examine my bank- +account to-night. I haven't done so--for some time." + +"We will go to Venice, and drift about in a gondola on one of those gray +days when the haze comes in from the Adriatic and touches the city with +the magic of the past. Sometimes I like the gray days best--when I am +happy. And then," she added, regarding him critically, "although you are +very near perfection, there are some things you ought to see and learn to +make your education complete. I will take you to all the queer places I +love. When you are ambassador to France, you know, it would be +humiliating to have to have an interpreter, wouldn't it?" + +"What's the use of both of us knowing the language?" he demanded. + +"I'm afraid we shall be--too happy," she sighed, presently. + +"Too happy!" he repeated. + +"I sometimes wonder," she said, "whether happiness and achievement go +together. And yet--I feel sure that you will achieve." + +"To please you, Victoria," he answered, "I think I should almost be +willing to try." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +P.S. + +By request of one who has read thus far, and is still curious. + +Yes, and another who, in spite of himself, has fallen in love with +Victoria and would like to linger a while longer, even though it were +with the paltry excuse of discussing that world-old question of hers--Can +sublime happiness and achievement go together? Novels on the problem of +sex nowadays often begin with marriages, but rarely discuss the happy +ones; and many a woman is forced to sit wistfully at home while her +companion soars. + + "Yet may I look with heart unshook + On blow brought home or missed-- + Yet may I hear with equal ear + The clarions down the List; + Yet set my lance above mischance + And ride the barriere-- + Oh, hit or miss, how little 'tis, + My Lady is not there!" + +A verse, in this connection, which may be a perversion of Mr. Kipling's +meaning, but not so far from it, after all. And yet, would the eagle +attempt the great flights if contentment were on the plain? Find the +mainspring of achievement, and you hold in your hand the secret of the +world's mechanism. Some aver that it is woman. + +Do the gods ever confer the rarest of gifts upon him to whom they have +given pinions? Do they mate him, ever, with another who soars as high as +he, who circles higher that he may circle higher still? Who can answer? +Must those who soar be condemned to eternal loneliness, and was it a +longing they did not comprehend which bade them stretch their wings +toward the sun? Who can say? + +Alas, we cannot write of the future of Austen and Victoria Vane! We can +only surmise, and hope, and pray,--yes, and believe. Romance walks with +parted lips and head raised to the sky; and let us follow her, because +thereby our eyes are raised with hers. We must believe, or perish. + +Postscripts are not fashionable. The satiated theatre goer leaves before +the end of the play, and has worked out the problem for himself long +before the end of the last act. Sentiment is not supposed to exist in +the orchestra seats. But above (in many senses) is the gallery, from +whence an excited voice cries out when the sleeper returns to life, "It's +Rip Van Winkle!" The gallery, where are the human passions which make +this world our world; the gallery, played upon by anger, vengeance, +derision, triumph, hate, and love; the gallery, which lingers and +applauds long after the fifth curtain, and then goes reluctantly home--to +dream. And he who scorns the gallery is no artist, for there lives the +soul of art. We raise our eyes to it, and to it we dedicate this our +play;--and for it we lift the curtain once more after those in the +orchestra have departed. + +It is obviously impossible, in a few words, to depict the excitement in +Ripton, in Leith, in the State at large, when it became known that the +daughter of Mr. Flint was to marry Austen Vane,--a fitting if unexpected +climax to a drama. How would Mr. Flint take it? Mr. Flint, it may be +said, took it philosophically; and when Austen went up to see him upon +this matter, he shook hands with his future son-in-law,--and they agreed +to disagree. And beyond this it is safe to say that Mr. +Flint was relieved; for in his secret soul he had for many years +entertained a dread that Victoria might marry a foreigner. He had this +consolation at any rate. + +His wife denied herself for a day to her most intimate friends,--for it +was she who had entertained visions of a title; and it was characteristic +of the Rose of Sharon that she knew nothing of the Vanes beyond the name. +The discovery that the Austens were the oldest family in the State was in +the nature of a balm; and henceforth, in speaking of Austen, she never +failed to mention the fact that his great-grandfather was Minister to +Spain in the '30's,--a period when her own was engaged in a far different +calling. + +And Hilary Vane received the news with a grim satisfaction, Dr. Tredway +believing that it had done more for him than any medicine or specialists. +And when, one warm October day, Victoria herself came and sat beside the +canopied bed, her conquest was complete: he surrendered to her as he had +never before surrendered to man or woman or child, and the desire to live +surged back into his heart,--the desire to live for Austen and Victoria. +It became her custom to drive to Ripton in the autumn mornings and to sit +by the hour reading to Hilary in the mellow sunlight in the lee of the +house, near Sarah Austen's little garden. Yes, Victoria believed she had +developed in him a taste for reading; although he would have listened to +Emerson from her lips. + +And sometimes, when she paused after one of his long silences to glance +at him, she would see his eyes fixed, with a strange rapt look, on the +garden or the dim lavender form of Sawanec through the haze, and knew +that he was thinking of a priceless thing which he had once possessed, +and missed. Then Victoria would close the volume, and fall to dreaming, +too. + +What was happiness? Was it contentment? If it were, it might endure,-- +contentment being passive. But could active, aggressive, exultant joy +exist for a lifetime, jealous of its least prerogative, perpetually +watchful for its least abatement, singing unending anthems on its +conquest of the world? The very intensity of her feelings at such times +sobered Victoria--alarmed her. Was not perfection at war with the +world's scheme, and did not achievement spring from a void? + +But when Austen appeared, with Pepper, to drive her home to Fairview, his +presence never failed to revive the fierce faith that it was his destiny +to make the world better, and hers to help him. Wondrous afternoons they +spent together in that stillest and most mysterious of seasons in the +hill country--autumn! Autumn and happiness! Happiness as shameless as +the flaunting scarlet maples on the slopes, defiant of the dying year of +the future, shadowy and unreal as the hills before them in the haze. +Once, after a long silence, she started from a revery with the sudden +consciousness of his look intent upon her, and turned with parted lips +and eyes which smiled at him out of troubled depths. + +"Dreaming, Victoria?" he said. + +"Yes," she answered simply, and was silent once more. He loved these +silences of hers,--hinting, as they did, of unexplored chambers in an +inexhaustible treasure-house which by some strange stroke of destiny was +his. And yet he felt at times the vague sadness of them, like the +sadness of the autumn, and longed to dispel it. + +"It is so wonderful," she went on presently, in a low voice, "it is so +wonderful I sometimes think that it must be like--like this; that it +cannot last. I have been wondering whether we shall be as happy when the +world discovers that you are great." + +He shook his head at her slowly, in mild reproof. + +"Isn't that borrowing trouble, Victoria?" he said. "I think you need +have no fear of finding the world as discerning as yourself." + +She searched his face. + +"Will you ever change?" she asked. + +"Yes," he said. "No man can stand such flattery as that without +deteriorating, I warn you. I shall become consequential, and pompous, +and altogether insupportable, and then you will leave me and never +realize that it has been all your fault." + +Victoria laughed. But there was a little tremor in her voice, and her +eyes still rested on his face. + +"But I am serious, Austen," she said. "I sometimes feel that, in the +future, we shall not always have many such days as these. It's selfish, +but I can't help it. There are so many things you will have to do +without me. Don't you ever think of that?" + +His eyes grew grave, and he reached out and took her hand in his. + +"I think, rather, of the trials life may bring, Victoria," he answered, +"of the hours when judgment halts, when the way is not clear. Do you +remember the last night you came to Jabe Jenney's? I stood in the road +long after you had gone, and a desolation such as I had never known came +over me. I went in at last, and opened a book to some verses I had been +reading, which I shall never forget. Shall I tell you what they were?" + +"Yes," she whispered. + +"They contain my answer to your question," he said. + + "What became of all the hopes, + Words and song and lute as well? + Say, this struck you 'When life gropes + Feebly for the path where fell + Light last on the evening slopes, + + "'One friend in that path shall be, + To secure my step from wrong; + One to count night day for me, + Patient through the watches long, + Serving most with none to see.'" + +"Victoria, can you guess who that friend is?" + +She pressed his hand and smiled at him, but her eyes were wet. + +"I have thought of it in that way, too, dear. But--but I did not know +that you had. I do not think that many men have that point of view, +Austen." + +"Many men," he answered, "have not the same reason to be thankful as I." + +There is a time, when the first sharp winds which fill the air with +flying leaves have come and gone, when the stillness has come again, and +the sunlight is tinged with a yellower gold, and the pastures are still a +vivid green, and the mountain stained with a deeper blue than any gem, +called Indian summer. And it was in this season that Victoria and Austen +were married, in a little church at Tunbridge, near Fairview, by the +bishop of the diocese, who was one of Victoria's dearest friends. Mr. +Thomas Gaylord (for whose benefit there were many rehearsals) was best +man, Miss Beatrice Chillingham maid of honour; and it was unanimously +declared by Victoria's bridesmaids, who came up from New York, that they +had fallen in love with the groom. + +How describe the wedding breakfast and festivities at Fairview House, on +a November day when young ladies could walk about the lawns in the +filmiest of gowns! how recount the guests and leave out no friends--for +none were left out! Mr. Jabe Jenney and Mrs. Jenney, who wept as she +embraced both bride and groom; and Euphrasia, in a new steel-coloured +silk and a state of absolute subjection and incredulous happiness. Would +that there were time to chronicle that most amazing of conquests of +Victoria over Euphrasia! And Mrs. Pomfret, who, remarkable as it may +seem, not only recognized Austen without her lorgnette, but quite +overwhelmed him with an unexpected cordiality, and declared her intention +of giving them a dinner in New York. + +"My dear," she said, after kissing Victoria twice, "he is most +distinguished-looking--I had no idea--and a person who grows upon one. +And I am told he is descended from Channing Austen, of whom I have often +heard my grandfather speak. Victoria, I always had the greatest +confidence in your judgment." + +Although Victoria had a memory (what woman worth her salt has not?), she +was far too happy to remind Mrs. Pomfret of certain former occasions, and +merely smiled in a manner which that lady declared to be enigmatic. She +maintained that she had never understood Victoria, and it was +characteristic of Mrs. Pomfret that her respect increased in direct +proportion to her lack of understanding. + +Mr. Thomas Gaylord, in a waistcoat which was the admiration of all who +beheld it, proposed the health of the bride; and proved indubitably that +the best of oratory has its origin in the heart and not in the mind,--for +Tom had never been regarded by his friends as a Demosthenes. He was +interrupted from time to time by shouts of laughter; certain episodes in +the early career of Mr. Austen Vane (in which, if Tom was to be believed, +he was an unwilling participant) were particularly appreciated. And +shortly after that, amidst a shower of miscellaneous articles and rice, +Mr. and Mrs. Vane took their departure. + +They drove through the yellow sunlight to Ripton, with lingering looks at +the hills which brought back memories of boys and sorrows, and in Hanover +Street bade good-by to Hilary Vane. A new and strange contentment shone +in his face as he took Victoria's hands in his, and they sat with him +until Euphrasia came. It was not until they were well on their way to +New York that they opened the letter he had given them, and discovered +that it contained something which would have enabled them to remain in +Europe the rest of their lives had they so chosen. + +We must leave them amongst the sunny ruins of Italy and Greece and +southern France, on a marvellous journey that was personally conducted by +Victoria. + +Mr. Crewe was unable to go to the wedding, having to attend a directors' +meeting of some importance in the West. He is still in politics, and +still hopeful; and he was married, not long afterwards, to Miss Alice +Pomfret. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Gratitude, however, is one of the noblest qualities of man +One of your persistent fallacies is, that I'm still a boy +The burden of the valley of vision +Thrice-blessed State, in which there were now three reform candidates +Years of regrets for that which might have been + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Mr. Crewe's Career, V3 +by Winston Churchill + diff --git a/old/wc08v10.zip b/old/wc08v10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab654b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wc08v10.zip diff --git a/old/wc08v11.txt b/old/wc08v11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef648a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wc08v11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6322 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Mr. Crewe's Career, V3, by Churchill +#8 in our series by this Winston Churchill + +This author is a cousin of Sir Winston Churchill the Prime Minister + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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On the porch of his home in Edmundton, +smoking cigars, little heeding the rising of the waters; receiving visits +from the Honourables Brush Bascom, Nat Billings, and Jacob Botcher, and +signing cheques to the order of these gentlemen for necessary expenses. +Be it known that the Honourable Adam was a man of substance in this +world's goods. To quote from Mr. Crewe's speech at Hull: "The +Northeastern Railroads confer--they do not pay, except in passes. Of +late years their books may be searched in vain for evidence of the use of +political funds. The man upon whom they choose to confer your +governorship is always able to pay the pipers." (Purposely put in the +plural.) + +Have the pipers warned the Honourable Adam of the rising tide against +him? Have they asked him to gird up his loins and hire halls and smite +the upstart hip and thigh? They have warned him, yes, that the expenses +may be a little greater than ordinary. But it is not for him to talk, or +to bestir himself in any unseemly manner, for the prize which he was to +have was in the nature of a gift. In vain did Mr. Crewe cry out to him +four times a week for his political beliefs, for a statement of what he +would do if he were elected governor. The Honourable Adam's dignified +answer was that he had always been a good Republican, and would die one. +Following a time-honoured custom, he refused to say anything, but it was +rumoured that he believed in the gold standard. + +It is August, and there is rejoicing in--Leith. There is no doubt now +that the campaign of the people progresses; no need any more for the true +accounts of the meetings, in large print, although these are still +continued. The reform rallies resemble matinees no longer, and two real +reporters accompany Mr. Crewe on his tours. Nay, the campaign of +education has already borne fruit, which the candidate did not hesitate +to mention in his talks Edmundton has more trains, Kingston has more +trains, and more cars. No need now to stand up for twenty miles on a hot +day; and more cars are building, and more engines; likewise some rates +have been lowered. And editors who declare that the Northeastern gives +the State a pretty good government have, like the guinea pigs, long been +suppressed. + +In these days were many councils at Fairview and in the offices of the +Honourable Hilary Vane at Ripton; councils behind closed doors, from +which the councillors emerged with smiling faces that men might not know +the misgivings in their hearts; councils, nevertheless, out of which +leaked rumours of dissension and recrimination conditions hitherto +unheard of. One post ran to meet another, and one messenger ran to meet +another; and it was even reported--though on doubtful authority--after +the rally in his town the Honourable Jacob Botcher had made the remark +that, under certain conditions, he might become a reformer. + +None of these upsetting rumours, however, were allowed by Mr. Bascom and +other gentlemen close to the Honourable Adam B. Hunt to reach that +candidate, who continued to smoke in tranquillity on the porch of his +home until the fifteenth day of August. At eight o'clock that morning +the postman brought him a letter marked personal, the handwriting on +which he recognized as belonging to the Honourable Hilary Vane. For some +reason, as he read, the sensations of the Honourable Adam were +disquieting; the contents of the letter, to say the least, were peculiar. +"To-morrow, at noon precisely, I shall be driving along the Broad Brook +road by the abandoned mill--three miles towards Edmundton from Hull. I +hope you will find it convenient to be there." + +These were the strange words the Honourable Hilary had written, and the +Honourable Adam knew that it was an order. At that very instant Mr. Hunt +had been reading in the Guardian the account of an overflow meeting in +Newcastle, by his opponent, in which Mr. Crewe had made some particularly +choice remarks about him; and had been cheered to the echo. The +Honourable Adam put the paper down, and walked up the street to talk to +Mr. Burrows, the postmaster whom, with the aid of Congressman Fairplay, +he had had appointed at Edmundton. The two racked their brains for +three hours; and Postmaster Burrows, who was the fortunate possessor of a +pass, offered to go down to Ripton in the interest of his liege lord and +see what was up. The Honourable Adam, however, decided that he could +wait for twenty-four hours. + +The morning of the sixteenth dawned clear, as beautiful a summer's day +for a drive as any man could wish. But the spirit of the Honourable Adam +did not respond to the weather, and he had certain vague forebodings as +his horse jogged toward Hull, although these did not take such a definite +shape as to make him feel a premonitory pull of his coat-tails. The +ruined mill beside the rushing stream was a picturesque spot, and the +figure of the Honourable Hilary Vane, seated on the old millstone, in the +green and gold shadows of a beech, gave an interesting touch of life to +the landscape. The Honourable Adam drew up and eyed his friend and +associate of many years before addressing him. + +"How are you, Hilary?" + +"Hitch your horse," said Mr. Vane. + +The Honourable Adam was some time in picking out a convenient tree. Then +he lighted a cigar, and approached Mr. Vane, and at length let himself +down, cautiously, on the millstone. Sitting on his porch had not +improved Mr. Hunt's figure. + +"This is kind of mysterious, ain't it, Hilary?" he remarked, with a tug +at his goatee. + +"I don't know but what it is," admitted Mr. Vane, who did not look as +though the coming episode were to give him unqualified joy. + +"Fine weather," remarked the Honourable Adam, with a brave attempt at +geniality. + +"The paper predicts rain to-morrow," said the Honourable Hilary. + +"You don't smoke, do you?" asked the Honourable Adam. + +"No," said the Honourable Hilary. + +A silence, except for the music of the brook over the broken dam. + +"Pretty place," said the Honourable Adam; "I kissed my wife here once-- +before I was married." + +This remark, although of interest, the Honourable Hilary evidently +thought did not require an answer: + +"Adam," said Mr. Vane, presently, "how much money have you spent so far?" + +"Well," said Mr. Hunt, "it has been sort of costly, but Brush and the +boys tell me the times are uncommon, and I guess they are. If that crazy +cuss Crewe hadn't broken loose, it would have been different. Not that +I'm uneasy about him, but all this talk of his and newspaper advertising +had to be counteracted some. Why, he has a couple of columns a week +right here in the Edmundton Courier. The papers are bleedin' him to +death, certain." + +"How much have you spent?" asked the Honourable Hilary. + +The Honourable Adam screwed up his face and pulled his goatee +thoughtfully. + +"What are you trying to get at, Hilary," he inquired, sending for me to +meet you out here in the woods in this curious way? If you wanted to see +me, why didn't you get me to go down to Ripton, or come up and sit on my +porch? You've been there before." + +"Times," said the Honourable Hilary, repeating, perhaps unconsciously, +Mr. Hunt's words, "are uncommon. This man Crewe's making more headway +than you think. The people don't know him, and he's struck a popular +note. It's the fashion to be down on railroads these days." + +"I've taken that into account," replied Mr. Hunt. + +"It's unlucky, and it comes high. I don't think he's got a show for the +nomination, but my dander's up, and I'll beat him if I have to mortgage +my house." + +The Honourable Hilary grunted, and ruminated. + +"How much did you say you'd spent, Adam?" + +"If you think I'm not free enough, I'll loosen up a little more," said +the Honourable Adam. + +"How free have you been?" said the Honourable Hilary. + +For some reason the question, put in this form, was productive of +results. + +"I can't say to a dollar, but I've got all the amounts down in a book. I +guess somewhere in the neighbourhood of nine thousand would cover it." + +Mr. Vane grunted again. + +"Would you take a cheque, Adam?" he inquired. + +"What for?" cried the Honourable Adam. + +"For the amount you've spent," said the Honourable Hilary, sententiously. + +The Honourable Adam began to breathe with apparent difficulty, and his +face grew purple. But Mr. Vane did not appear to notice these alarming +symptoms. Then the candidate turned about, as on a pivot, seized Mr. +Vane by the knee, and looked into his face. + +"Did you come up here with orders for me to get out?" he demanded, with +some pardonable violence. "By thunder, I didn't think that of my old +friend, Hilary Vane. You ought to have known me better, and Flint ought +to have known me better. There ain't a mite of use of our staying here +another second, and you can go right back and tell Flint what I said. +Flint knows I've been waiting to be governor for eight years, and each +year it's been just a year ahead. You ask him what he said to me when he +sent for me to go to New York. I thought he was a man of his word, and +he promised me that I should be governor this year." + +The Honourable Hilary gave no indication of being moved by this righteous +outburst. + +"You can be governor next year, when this reform nonsense has blown +over," he said. "You can't be this year, even if you stay in the race." + +"Why not?" the Honourable Adam asked pugnaciously. + +"Your record won't stand it--not just now," said Mr. Vane, slowly. + +"My record is just as good as yours, or any man's," said the Honourable +Adam. + +"I never run for office," answered Mr. Vane. + +"Haven't I spent the days of my active life in the service of that road-- +and is this my reward? Haven't I done what Flint wanted always?" + +"That's just the trouble," said the Honourable Hilary; too many folks +know it. If we're going to win this time, we've got to have a man who's +never had any Northeastern connections." + +"Who have you picked?" demanded the Honourable Adam, with alarming +calmness. + +"We haven't picked anybody yet," said Mr. Vane, "but the man who goes in +will give you a cheque for what you've spent, and you can be governor +next time." + +"Well, if this isn't the d-dest, coldest-blooded proposition ever made, I +want to know!" cried the Honourable Adam. "Will Flint put up a bond of +one hundred thousand dollars that I'll be nominated and elected next +year? This is the clearest case of going back on an old friend I ever +saw. If this is the way you fellows get scared because a sham reformer +gets up and hollers against the road, then I want to serve notice on you +that I'm not made of that kind of stuff. When I go into a fight, I go in +to stay, and you can't pull me out by the coat-tails in favour of a saint +who's never done a lick of work for the road. You tell Flint that." + +"All right, Adam," said Hilary. + +Some note in Hilary's voice, as he made this brief answer, suddenly +sobered the Honourable Adam, and sent a cold chill down his spine. He +had had many dealings with Mr. Vane, and he had always been as putty in +the chief counsel's hands. This simple acquiescence did more to convince +the Honourable Adam that his chances of nomination were in real danger +than a long and forceful summary of the situation could have +accomplished. But like many weak men, the Honourable Adam had a stubborn +streak, and a fatuous idea that opposition and indignation were signs of +strength. + +"I've made sacrifices for the road before, and effaced myself. But by +thunder, this is too much!" + +Corporations, like republics, are proverbially ungrateful. The +Honourable Hilary might have voiced this sentiment, but refrained. + +"Mr. Flint's a good friend of yours, Adam. He wanted me to say that he'd +always taken care of you, and always would, so far as in his power. If +you can't be landed this time, it's common sense for you to get out, and +wait--isn't it? We'll see that you get a cheque to cover what you've put +out." + +The humour in this financial sacrifice of Mr. Flint's (which the unknown +new candidate was to make with a cheque) struck neither the Honourable +Adam nor the Honourable Hilary. The transaction, if effected, would +resemble that of the shrine to the Virgin built by a grateful Marquis of +Mantua--which a Jew paid for. + +The Honourable Adam got to his feet. + +"You can tell Flint," he said, "that if he will sign a bond of one +hundred thousand dollars to elect me next time, I'll get out. That's my +last word." + +"All right, Adam," replied Mr. Vane, rising also. + +Mr. Hunt stared at the Honourable Hilary thoughtfully; and although the +gubernatorial candidate was not an observant man, he was suddenly struck +by the fact that the chief counsel was growing old. + +"I won't hold this against you, Hilary," he said. + +"Politics," said the Honourable Hilary, "are business matters." + +"I'll show Flint that it would have been good business to stick to me," +said the Honourable Adam. "When be gets panicky, and spends all his +money on new equipment and service, it's time for me to drop him. You +can tell him so from me." + +"Hadn't you better write him?" said the Honourable Hilary. + +The rumour of the entry of Mr. Giles Henderson of Kingston into the +gubernatorial contest preceded, by ten days or so, the actual event. It +is difficult for the historian to unravel the precise circumstances which +led to this candidacy. Conservative citizens throughout the State, it +was understood, had become greatly concerned over the trend political +affairs were taking; the radical doctrines of one candidate--propounded +for very obvious reasons--they turned from in disgust; on the other hand, +it was evident that an underlying feeling existed in certain sections +that any candidate who was said to have had more or less connection with +the Northeastern Railroads was undesirable at the present time. This was +not to be taken as a reflection on the Northeastern, which had been the +chief source of the State's prosperity, but merely as an acknowledgment +that a public opinion undoubtedly existed, and ought to be taken into +consideration by the men who controlled the Republican party. + +This was the gist of leading articles which appeared simultaneously in +several newspapers, apparently before the happy thought of bringing +forward Mr. Giles Henderson had occurred to anybody. He was mentioned +first, and most properly, by the editor of the "Kingston Pilot;" and the +article, with comments upon it, ran like wildfire through the press of +the State,--appearing even in those sheets which maintained editorially +that they were for the Honourable Adam B. Hunt first and last and, all +the time. Whereupon Mr. Giles Henderson began to receive visits from the +solid men--not politicians of the various cities and counties. For +instance, Mr. Silas Tredway of Ripton, made such a pilgrimage and, as a +citizen who had voted in 1860 for Abraham Lincoln (showing Mr. Tredway +himself to have been a radical once), appealed to Mr. Henderson to save +the State. + +At first Mr. Henderson would give no ear to these appeals, but shook his +head pessimistically. He was not a politician--so much the better, we +don't want a politician; he was a plain business man exactly what is +needed; a conservative, level-headed business man wholly lacking in those +sensational qualities which are a stench in the nostrils of good +citizens. Mr. Giles Henderson admitted that the time had come when a man +of these qualities was needed--but he was not the man. Mr. Tredway was +the man--so he told Mr. Tredway; Mr. Gates of Brampton was the man--so he +assured Mr. Gates. Mr. Henderson had no desire to meddle in politics; +his life was a happy and a full one. But was it not Mr. Henderson's +duty? Cincinnatus left the plough, and Mr. Henderson should leave the +ledger at the call of his countrymen. + +Mr. Giles Henderson was mild-mannered and blue-eyed, with a scanty beard +that was turning white; he was a deacon of the church, a member of the +school board, president of the Kingston National Bank; the main business +of his life had been in coal (which incidentally had had to be +transported over the Northeastern Railroads); and coal rates, for some +reason, were cheaper from Kingston than from many points out of the State +the distances of which were nearer. Mr. Henderson had been able to sell +his coal at a lower price than any other large dealer in the eastern part +of the State. Mr. Henderson was the holder of a large amount of stock in +the Northeastern, inherited from his father. Facts of no special +significance, and not printed in the weekly newspapers. Mr. Henderson +lived in a gloomy Gothic house on High Street, ate three very plain meals +a day, and drank iced water. He had been a good husband and a good +father, and had always voted the Republican ticket. He believed in the +gold standard, a high tariff, and eternal damnation. At last his +resistance was overcome, and he consented to allow his name to be used. + +It was used, with a vengeance. Spontaneous praise of Mr. Giles Henderson +bubbled up all over the State, and editors who were for the Honourable +Adam B. Hunt suddenly developed a second choice. No man within the +borders of the commonwealth had so many good qualities as the new +candidate, and it must have been slightly annoying to one of that +gentleman's shrinking nature to read daily, on coming down to breakfast, +a list of virtues attributed to him as long as a rate schedule. How he +must have longed for the record of one wicked deed to make him human! + +Who will pick a flaw in the character of the Honourable Giles Henderson? +Let that man now stand forth. + +The news of the probable advent of Mr. Giles Henderson on the field, as +well as the tidings of his actual consent to be a candidate, were not +slow in reaching Leith. And--Mr. Crewe's Bureau of Information being in +perfect working order--the dastardly attempt on the Honourable Adam B. +Hunt's coat-tails was known there. More wonders to relate: the +Honourable Adam B. Hunt had become a reformer; he had made a statement at +last, in which he declared with vigour that no machine or ring was behind +him; he stood on his own merits, invited the minutest inspection of his +record, declared that he was an advocate of good government, and if +elected would be the servant of no man and of no corporation. + +Thrice-blessed State, in which there were now three reform candidates for +governor! + +All of these happenings went to indicate confusion in the enemy's camp, +and corresponding elation in Mr. Crewe's. Woe to the reputation for +political sagacity of the gentleman who had used the words "negligible" +and "monumental farce"! The tide was turning, and the candidate from +Leith redoubled his efforts. Had he been confounded by the advent of the +Honourable Giles? Not at all. Mr. Crewe was not given to satire; his +methods, as we know, were direct. Hence the real author of the following +passage in his speech before an overflow meeting in the State capital +remains unknown: + +"My friends," Mr. Crewe had said, "I have been waiting for the time when +St. Giles of the Blameless Life would be pushed forward, apparently as +the only hope of our so-called 'solid citizens.' (Prolonged laughter, and +audible repetitions of Mr. Henderson's nickname, which was to stick.) I +will tell you by whose desire St. Giles became a candidate, and whose +bidding he will do if he becomes governor as blindly and obediently as +the Honourable Adam B. Hunt ever did. (Shouts of "Flint!" and, "The +Northeastern!") I see you know. Who sent the solid citizens to see Mr. +Henderson? ("Flint!") This is a clever trick--exactly what I should have +done if I'd been running their campaign--only they didn't do it early +enough. They picked Mr. Giles Henderson for two reasons: because he +lives in Kingston, which is anti-railroad and supported the Gaylord bill, +and, because he never in his life committed any positive action, good or +bad--and he never will. And they made another mistake--the Honourable +Adam B. Hunt wouldn't back out." (Laughter and cheers.) + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +IN WHICH EUPHRASIA TAKES A HAND + +Austen had not forgotten his promise to Euphrasia, and he had gone to +Hanover Street many times since his sojourn at Mr. Jabe Jenney's. +Usually these visits had taken place in the middle of the day, when +Euphrasia, with gentle but determined insistence, had made him sit down +before some morsel which she had prepared against his coming, and which +he had not the heart to refuse. In answer to his inquiries about Hilary, +she would toss her head and reply, disdainfully, that he was as +comfortable as he should be. For Euphrasia had her own strict ideas of +justice, and to her mind Hilary's suffering was deserved. That suffering +was all the more terrible because it was silent, but Euphrasia was a +stern woman. To know that he missed Austen, to feel that Hilary was +being justly punished for his treatment of her idol, for his callous +neglect and lack of realization of the blessings of his life--these were +Euphrasia's grim compensations. + +At times, even, she had experienced a strange rejoicing that she had +promised Austen to remain with his father, for thus it had been given her +to be the daily witness of a retribution for which she had longed during +many years. Nor did she strive to hide her feelings. Their intercourse, +never voluminous, had shrunk to the barest necessities for the use of +speech; but Hilary, ever since the night of his son's departure, had read +in the face of his housekeeper a knowledge of his suffering, an exultation +a thousand times more maddening than the little reproaches of language +would have been. He avoided her more than ever, and must many times have +regretted bitterly the fact that he had betrayed himself to her. As for +Euphrasia, she had no notion of disclosing Hilary's torture to his son. +She was determined that the victory, when it came, should be Austen's, +and the surrender Hilary's. + +"He manages to eat his meals, and gets along as common," she would reply. +"He only thinks of himself and that railroad." + +But Austen read between the lines. + +"Poor old Judge," he would answer; "it's because he's made that way, +Phrasie. He can't help it, any more than I can help flinging law-books +on the floor and running off to the country to have a good time. You +know as well as I do that he hasn't had much joy out of life; that he'd +like to be different, only he doesn't know how." + +"I can't see that it takes much knowledge to treat a wife and son like +human beings," Euphrasia retorted; "that's only common humanity. For a +man that goes to meetin' twice a week, you'd have thought he'd have +learned something by this time out of the New Testament. He's prayed +enough in his life, goodness knows!" + +Now Euphrasia's ordinarily sharp eyes were sharpened an hundred fold by +affection; and of late, at odd moments during his visits, Austen had +surprised them fixed on him with a penetration that troubled him. + +"You don't seem to fancy the tarts as much as you used to," she would +remark. "Time was when you'd eat three and four at a sittin'." + +"Phrasie, one of your persistent fallacies is, that I'm still a boy." + +"You ain't yourself," said Euphrasia, ignoring this pleasantry, "and you +ain't been yourself for some months. I've seen it. I haven't brought +you up for nothing. If he's troubling you, don't you worry a mite. He +ain't worth it. He eats better than you do." + +"I'm not worrying much about that," Austen answered, smiling. "The Judge +and I will patch it up before long--I'm sure. He's worried now over +these people who are making trouble for his railroad." + +"I wish railroads had never been invented," cried Euphrasia. "It seems +to me they bring nothing but trouble. My mother used to get along pretty +well in a stage-coach." + +One evening in September, when the summer days were rapidly growing +shorter and the mists rose earlier in the valley of the Blue, Austen, who +had stayed late at the office preparing a case, ate his supper at the +Ripton House. As he sat in the big dining room, which was almost empty, +the sense of loneliness which he had experienced so often of late came +over him, and he thought of Euphrasia. His father, he knew, had gone to +Kingston for the night, and so he drove up Hanover Street and hitched +Pepper to the stone post before the door. Euphrasia, according to an +invariable custom, would be knitting in the kitchen at this hour; and at +the sight of him in the window, she dropped her work with a little, +joyful cry. + +"I was just thinking of you!" she said, in a low voice of tenderness +which many people would not have recognized as Euphrasia's; as though her +thoughts of him were the errant ones of odd moments! "I'm so glad you +come. It's lonesome here of evenings, Austen." + +He entered silently and sat down beside her, in a Windsor chair which had +belonged to some remote Austen of bygone days. + +"You don't have as good things to eat up at Mis' Jenney's as I give you," +she remarked. "Not that you appear to care much for eatables any more. +Austen, are you feeling poorly?" + +"I can dig more potatoes in a day than any other man in Ripton," he +declared. + +"You'd ought to get married," said Euphrasia, abruptly. "I've told you +that before, but you never seem to pay any attention to what I say." + +"Why haven't you tried it, Phrasie?" he retorted. + +He was not prepared for what followed. Euphrasia did not answer at once, +but presently her knitting dropped to her lap, and she sat staring at the +old clock on the kitchen shelf. + +"He never asked me," she said, simply. + +Austen was silent. The answer seemed to recall, with infinite pathos, +Euphrasia's long-lost youth, and he had not thought of youth as a quality +which could ever have pertained to her. She must have been young once, +and fresh, and full of hope for herself; she must have known, long ago, +something of what he now felt, something of the joy and pain, something +of the inexpressible, never ceasing yearning for the fulfilment of a +desire that dwarfed all others. Euphrasia had been denied that +fulfilment. And he--would he, too, be denied it? + +Out of Euphrasia's eyes, as she gazed at the mantel-shelf, shone the +light of undying fires within--fires which at a touch could blaze forth +after endless years, transforming the wrinkled face, softening the +sterner lines of character. And suddenly there was a new bond between +the two. So used are the young to the acceptance of the sacrifice of the +old that they lose sight of that sacrifice. But Austen saw now, in a +flash, the years of Euphrasia's self-denial, the years of memories, the +years of regrets for that which might have been. + +"Phrasie," he said, laying a hand on hers, which rested on the arm of the +chair, I was only joking, you know." + +"I know, I know," Euphrasia answered hastily, and turned and looked into +his face searchingly. Her eyes were undimmed, and the light was still in +them which revealed a soul of which he had had no previous knowledge. + +"I know you was, dear. I never told that to a living being except your +mother. He's dead now--he never knew. But I told her--I couldn't help +it. She had a way of drawing things out of you, and you just couldn't +resist. I'll never forget that day she came in here and looked at me and +took my hand--same as you have it now. She wasn't married then. I'll +never forget the sound of her voice as she said, 'Euphrasia, tell me +about it.'" (Here Euphrasia's own voice trembled.) "I told her, just as +I'm telling you,--because I couldn't help it. Folks, had to tell her +things." + +She turned her hand and clasped his tightly with her own thin fingers. + +"And oh, Austen," she cried, "I want so that you should be happy! She +was so unhappy, it doesn't seem right that you should be, too." + +"I shall be, Phrasie," he said; "you mustn't worry about that." + +For a while the only sound in the room was the ticking of the old clock +with the quaint, coloured picture on its panel. And then, with a +movement which, strangely, was an acute reminder of a way Victoria had, +Euphrasia turned and searched his face once more. + +"You're not happy," she said. + +He could not put this aside--nor did he wish to. Her own confidence had +been so simple, so fine, so sure of his sympathy, that he felt it would +be unworthy to equivocate; the confessions of the self-reliant are sacred +things. Yes, and there had been times when he had longed to unburden +himself; but he had had no intimate on this plane, and despite the great +sympathy between them--that Euphrasia might understand had never occurred +to him. She had read his secret. + +In that instant Euphrasia, with the instinct which love lends to her sex, +had gone farther; indignation seized her--and the blame fell upon the +woman. Austen's words, unconsciously, were an answer to her thoughts. + +"It isn't anybody's fault but my own," he said. + +Euphrasia's lips were tightly closed. Long ago the idol of her youth had +faded into the substance of which dreams are made--to be recalled by +dreams alone; another worship had filled her heart, and Austen Vane had +become--for her--the fulness and the very meaning of life itself; one to +be admired of all men, to be desired of all women. Visions of Austen's +courtship had at times risen in her mind, although Euphrasia would not +have called it a courtship. When the time came, Austen would confer; and +so sure of his judgment was Euphrasia that she was prepared to take the +recipient of the priceless gift into her arms. And now! Was it possible +that a woman lived who would even hesitate? Curiosity seized Euphrasia +with the intensity of a passion. Who was this woman? When and where had +he seen her? Ripton could not have produced her--for it was +characteristic of Euphrasia that no girl of her acquaintance was worthy +to be raised to such a height; Austen's wife would be an unknown of ideal +appearance and attainments. Hence indignation rocked Euphrasia, and +doubts swayed her. In this alone she had been an idealist, but she might +have known that good men were a prey to the unworthy of the opposite sex. + +She glanced at Austen's face, and he smiled at her gently, as though he +divined something of her thoughts. + +"If it isn't your fault, that you're not happy, then the matter's easily +mended," she said. + +He shook his head at her, as though in reproof. + +"Was yours--easily mended?" he asked. + +Euphrasia was silent a moment. + +"He never knew," she repeated, in a low voice. + +"Well, Phrasie, it looks very much as if we were in the same boat," he +said. + +Euphrasia's heart gave a bound. + +"Then you haven't spoke!" she cried; "I knew you hadn't. I--I was a +woman--but sometimes I've thought I'd ought to have given him some sign. +You're a man, Austen; thank God for it, you're a man. If a man loves a +woman, he's only got to tell her so." + +"It isn't as simple as that," he answered. + +Euphrasia gave him a startled glance. + +"She ain't married?" she exclaimed. + +"No," he said, and laughed in spite of himself. + +Euphrasia breathed again. For Sarah Austen had had a morality of her +own, and on occasions had given expression to extreme views. + +"She's not playin' with you?" was Euphrasia's next question, and her tone +boded ill to any young person who would indulge in these tactics with +Austen. + +He shook his head again, and smiled at her vehemence. + +"No, she's not playing with me--she isn't that kind. I'd like to tell +you, but I can't--I can't. It was only because you guessed that I said +anything about it." He disengaged his hand, and rose, and patted her on +the cheek. "I suppose I had to tell somebody," he said, "and you seemed, +somehow, to be the right person, Phrasie." + +Euphrasia rose abruptly and looked up intently into his face. He thought +it strange afterwards, as he drove along the dark roads, that she had not +answered him. + +Even though the matter were on the knees of the gods, Euphrasia would +have taken it thence, if she could. Nor did Austen know that she shared +with him, that night, his waking hours. + +The next morning Mr. Thomas Gaylord, the younger, was making his way +towards the office of the Gaylord Lumber Company, conveniently situated +on Willow Street, near the railroad. Young Tom was in a particularly +jovial frame of mind, despite the fact that he had arrived in Ripton, on +the night express, as early as five o'clock in the morning. He had been +touring the State ostensibly on lumber business, but young Tom had a +large and varied personal as well as commercial acquaintance, and he had +the inestimable happiness of being regarded as an honest man, while his +rough and genial qualities made him beloved. For these reasons and +others of a more material nature, suggestions from Mr. Thomas Gaylord +were apt to be well received--and Tom had been making suggestions. + +Early as he was at his office--the office-boy was sprinkling the floor-- +young Tom had a visitor who was earlier still. Pausing in the doorway, +Mr. Gaylord beheld with astonishment a prim, elderly lady in a stiff, +black dress sitting upright on the edge of a capacious oak chair which +seemed itself rather discomfited by what it contained,--for its +hospitality had hitherto been extended to visitors of a very different +sort. + +"Well, upon my soul," cried young Tom, "if it isn't Euphrasia!" + +"Yes, it's me," said Euphrasia; "I've been to market, and I had a notion +to see you before I went home." + +Mr. Gaylord took the office-boy lightly by the collar of his coat and +lifted him, sprinkling can and all, out of the doorway and closed the +door. Then he drew his revolving chair close to Euphrasia, and sat down. +They were old friends, and more than once in a youth far from model Tom +had experienced certain physical reproof at her hands, for which he bore +no ill-will. There was anxiety on his face as he asked:-- + +"There hasn't been any accident, has there, Euphrasia?" + +"No," she said. + +"No new row?" inquired Tom. + +"No," said Euphrasia. She was a direct person, as we know, but true +descendants of the Puritans believe in the decency of preliminaries, and +here was certainly an affair not to be plunged into. Euphrasia was a +spinster in the strictest sense of that formidable and highly descriptive +term, and she intended ultimately to discuss with Tom a subject of which +she was supposed by tradition to be wholly ignorant, the mere mention of +which still brought warmth to her cheeks. Such a delicate matter should +surely be led up to delicately. In the meanwhile Tom was mystified. + +"Well, I'm mighty glad to see you, anyhow," he said heartily. "It was +fond of you to call, Euphrasia. I can't offer you a cigar." + +"I should think not," said Euphrasia. + +Tom reddened. He still retained for her some of his youthful awe. + +"I can't do the honours of hospitality as I'd wish to," he went on; "I +can't give you anything like the pies you used to give me." + +"You stole most of 'em," said Euphrasia. + +"I guess that's so," said young Tom, laughing, "but I'll never taste pies +like 'em again as long as I live. Do you know, Euphrasia, there were two +reasons why those were the best pies I ever ate?" + +"What were they?" she asked, apparently unmoved. + +"First," said Tom, "because you made 'em, and second, because they were +stolen." + +Truly, young Tom had a way with women, had he only been aware of it. + +"I never took much stock in stolen things," said Euphrasia. + +"It's because you never were tempted with such pie as that," replied the +audacious Mr. Gaylord. + +"You're gettin' almighty stout," said Euphrasia. + +As we see her this morning, could she indeed ever have had a love affair? + +"I don't have to use my legs as much as I once did," said Tom. And this +remark brought to an end the first phase of this conversation,--brought +to an end, apparently, all conversation whatsoever. Tom racked his brain +for a new topic, opened his roll-top desk, drummed on it, looked up at +the ceiling and whistled softly, and then turned and faced again the +imperturbable Euphrasia. + +"Euphrasia," he said, you're not exactly a politician, I believe." + +"Well," said Euphrasia, "I've be'n maligned a good many times, but nobody +ever went that far." + +Mr. Gaylord shook with laughter. + +"Then I guess there's no harm in confiding political secrets to you," he +said. "I've been around the State some this week, talking to people I +know, and I believe if your Austen wasn't so obstinate, we could make him +governor." + +"Obstinate?" ejaculated Euphrasia. + +"Yes," said Tom, with a twinkle in his eye, "obstinate. He doesn't seem +to want something that most men would give their souls for." + +"And why should he dirty himself with politics?" she demanded. "In the +years I've lived with Hilary Vane I've seen enough of politicians, +goodness knows. I never want to see another." + +"If Austen was governor, we'd change some of that. But mind, Euphrasia, +this is a secret," said Tom, raising a warning finger. "If Austen hears +about it now, the jig's up." + +Euphrasia considered and thawed a little. + +"They don't often have governors that young, do they?" she asked. + +"No," said Tom, forcibly, "they don't. And so far as I know, they +haven't had such a governor for years as Austen would make. But he won't +push himself. You know, Euphrasia, I have always believed that he will +be President some day." + +Euphrasia received this somewhat startling prediction complacently. She +had no doubt of its accuracy, but the enunciation of it raised young Tom +in her estimation, and incidentally brought her nearer her topic. + +"Austen ain't himself lately," she remarked. + +"I knew that he didn't get along with Hilary," said Tom, sympathetically, +beginning to realize now that Euphrasia had come to talk about her idol. + +"It's Hilary doesn't get along with him," she retorted indignantly. +"He's responsible--not Austen. Of all the narrow, pig-headed, selfish +men the Lord ever created, Hilary Vane's the worst. It's Hilary drove +him out of his mother's house to live with strangers. It's Austen that +comes around to inquire for his father--Hilary never has a word to say +about Austen." A trace of colour actually rose under Euphrasia's sallow +skin, and she cast her eyes downward. "You've known him a good while, +haven't you, Tom?" + +"All my life," said Tom, mystified again, "all my life. And I, think +more of him than of anybody else in the world." + +"I calculated as much," she said; "that's why I came." She hesitated. +Artful Euphrasia! We will let the ingenuous Mr. Gaylord be the first to +mention this delicate matter, if possible. "Goodness knows, it ain't +Hilary I came to talk about. I had a notion that you'd know if anything +else was troubling Austen." + +"Why," said Tom, "there can't be any business troubles outside of those +Hilary's mixed up in. Austen doesn't spend any money to speak of, except +what he gives away, and he's practically chief counsel for our company." + +Euphrasia was silent a moment. + +"I suppose there's nothing else that could bother him," she remarked. +She had never held Tom Gaylord's powers of comprehension in high +estimation, and the estimate had not risen during this visit. But she +had undervalued him; even Tom could rise to an inspiration--when the +sources of all other inspirations were eliminated. + +"Why," he exclaimed, with a masculine lack of delicacy, "he may be in +love--" + +"That's struck you, has it?" said Euphrasia. + +But Tom appeared to be thinking; he was, in truth, engaged in collecting +his cumulative evidence: Austen's sleigh-ride at the capital, which he +had discovered; his talk with Victoria after her fall, when she had +betrayed an interest in Austen which Tom had thought entirely natural; +and finally Victoria's appearance at Mr. Crewe's rally in Ripton. Young +Mr. Gaylord had not had a great deal of experience in affairs of the +heart, and he was himself aware that his diagnosis in such a matter would +not carry much weight. He had conceived a tremendous admiration for +Victoria, which had been shaken a little by the suspicion that she might +be intending to marry Mr. Crewe. Tom Gaylord saw no reason why Austen +Vane should not marry Mr. Flint's daughter if he chose--or any other +man's daughter; partaking, in this respect, somewhat of Euphrasia's view. +As for Austen himself, Tom had seen no symptoms; but then, he reflected, +he would not be likely to see any. However, he perceived the object now +of Euphrasia's visit, and began to take the liveliest interest in it. + +"So you think Austen's in love?" he demanded. + +Euphrasia sat up straighter, if anything. + +"I didn't say anything of the kind," she returned. + +"He wouldn't tell me, you know," said Tom; "I can only guess at it." + +"And the--lady?" said Euphrasia, craftily. + +"I'm up a tree there, too. All I know is that he took her sleigh-riding +one afternoon at the capital, and wouldn't tell me who he was going to +take. And then she fell off her horse down at East Tunbridge Station--" + +"Fell off her horse!" echoed Euphrasia, an accident comparable in her +mind to falling off a roof. What manner of young woman was this who fell +off horses? + +"She wasn't hurt," Tom continued, "and she rode the beast home. He was a +wild one, I can tell you, and she's got pluck. That's the first time I +ever met her, although I had often seen her and thought she was a stunner +to look at. She talked as if she took an interest in Austen." + +An exact portrayal of Euphrasia's feelings at this description of the +object of Austen's affections is almost impossible. A young woman who +was a stunner, who rode wild horses and fell off them and rode them +again, was beyond the pale not only of Euphrasia's experience but of her +imagination likewise. And this hoyden had talked as though she took an +interest in Austen! Euphrasia was speechless. + +"The next time I saw her," said Tom, "was when she came down here to +listen to Humphrey Crewe's attacks on the railroad. I thought that was a +sort of a queer thing for Flint's daughter to do, but Austen didn't seem +to look at it that way. He talked to her after the show was over." + +At this point Euphrasia could contain herself no longer, and in her +excitement she slipped off the edge of the chair and on to her feet. + +"Flint's daughter?" she cried; "Augustus P. Flint's daughter?" + +Tom looked at her in amazement. + +"Didn't you know who it was?" he stammered. But Euphrasia was not +listening. + +"I've seen her," she was saying; "I've seen her ridin' through Ripton in +that little red wagon, drivin' herself, with a coachman perched up beside +her. Flint's daughter!" Euphrasia became speechless once more, the +complications opened up being too vast for intelligent comment. +Euphrasia, however, grasped some of the problems which Austen had had to +face. Moreover, she had learned what she had come for, and the obvious +thing to do now was to go home and reflect. So, without further +ceremony, she walked to the door and opened it, and turned again with her +hand on the knob. "Look here, Tom Gaylord," she said, "if you tell Austen +I was here, I'll never forgive you. I don't believe you've got any more +sense than to do it." + +And with these words she took her departure, ere the amazed Mr. Gaylord +had time to show her out. Half an hour elapsed before he opened his +letters. + +When she arrived home in Hanover Street it was nine o'clock--an hour well +on in the day for Euphrasia. Unlocking the kitchen door, she gave a +glance at the stove to assure herself that it had not been misbehaving, +and went into the passage on her way up-stairs to take off her gown +before sitting down to reflect upon the astonishing thing she had heard. +Habit had so crystallized in Euphrasia that no news, however amazing, +could have shaken it. But in the passage she paused; an unwonted, or +rather untimely, sound reached her ears, a sound which came from the +front of the house--and at nine o'clock in the morning! Had Austen been +at home, Euphrasia would have thought nothing of it. In her remembrance +Hilary Vane, whether he returned from a journey or not, had never been +inside the house at that hour on a week-day; and, unlike the gentleman in +"La Vie de Boheme," Euphrasia did not have to be reminded of the Sabbath. + +Perhaps Austen had returned! Or perhaps it was a burglar! Euphrasia, +undaunted, ran through the darkened front hall to where the graceful +banister ended in a curve at the foot of the stairs, and there, on the +bottom step, sat a man with his head in his hands. Euphrasia shrieked. +He looked up, and she saw that it was Hilary Vane. She would have +shrieked, anyway. + +"What in the world's the matter with you?" she cried. + +"I--I stumbled coming down the stairs," he said. + +"But what are you doing at home in the middle of the morning?" she +demanded. + +He did not answer her. The subdued light which crept under the porch and +came in through the fan shaped window over the door fell on his face. + +"Are you sick?" said Euphrasia. In all her life she had never seen him +look like that. + +He shook his head, but did not attempt to rise. A Hilary Vane without +vigour! + +"No," he said, "no. I just came up here from the train to--get somethin' +I'd left in my room." + +"A likely story!" said Euphrasia. "You've never done that in thirty +years. You're sick, and I'm a-going for the doctor." + +She put her hand to his forehead, but he thrust it away and got to his +feet, although in the effort he compressed his lips and winced. + +"You stay where you are," he said; "I tell you I'm not sick, and I'm +going down to the square. Let, the doctors alone--I haven't got any use +for 'em." + +He walked to the door, opened it, and went out and slammed it in her +face. By the time she had got it open again--a crack--he had reached the +sidewalk, and was apparently in full possession of his powers and +faculties. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A FALLING-OUT IN HIGH PLACES + +Although one of the most exciting political battles ever fought is fast +coming to its climax, and a now jubilant Mr. Crewe is contesting every +foot of ground in the State with the determination and pertinacity which +make him a marked man; although the convention wherein his fate will be +decided is now but a few days distant, and everything has been done to +secure a victory which mortal man can do, let us follow Hilary Vane to +Fairview. Not that Hilary has been idle. The "Book of Arguments" is +exhausted, and the chiefs and the captains have been to Ripton, and +received their final orders, but more than one has gone back to his fief +with the vision of a changed Hilary who has puzzled them. Rumours have +been in the air that the harmony between the Source of Power and the +Distribution of Power is not as complete as it once was. Certainly, +Hilary Vane is not the man he was--although this must not even be +whispered. Senator Whitredge had told--but never mind that. In the old +days an order was an order; there were no rebels then. In the old days +there was no wavering and rescinding, and if the chief counsel told you, +with brevity, to do a thing, you went and did it straightway, with the +knowledge that it was the best thing to do. Hilary Vane had aged +suddenly, and it occurred for the first time to many that, in this +utilitarian world, old blood must be superseded by young blood. + +Two days before the convention, immediately after taking dinner at the +Ripton House with Mr. Nat Billings, Hilary Vane, in response to a +summons, drove up to Fairview. One driving behind him would have +observed that the Honourable Hilary's horse took his own gaits, and that +the reins, most of the time, drooped listlessly on his quarters. A +September stillness was in the air, a September purple clothed the +distant hills, but to Hilary the glories of the day were as things non- +existent. Even the groom at Fairview, who took his horse, glanced back +at him with a peculiar expression as he stood for a moment on the steps +with a hesitancy the man had never before remarked. + +In the meantime Mr. Flint, with a pile of letters in a special basket on +the edge of his desk, was awaiting his counsel; the president of the +Northeastern was pacing his room, as was his wont when his activities +were for a moment curbed, or when he had something on his mind; and every +few moments he would glance towards his mantel at the clock which was set +to railroad time. In past days he had never known Hilary Vane to be a +moment late to an appointment. The door was open, and five and twenty +minutes had passed the hour before he saw the lawyer in the doorway. Mr. +Flint was a man of such preoccupation of mind that he was not likely to +be struck by any change there might have been in his counsel's +appearance. + +"It's half-past three," he said. + +Hilary entered, and sat down beside the window. + +"You mean that I'm late," he replied. + +"I've got some engineers coming here in less than an hour," said Mr. +Flint. + +"I'll be gone in less than an hour," said Hilary. + +"Well," said Mr. Flint, "let's get down to hardtack. I've got to be +frank with you, Vane, and tell you plainly that this political business +is all at sixes and sevens." + +"It isn't necessary to tell me that," said Hilary. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that I know it." + +"To put it mildly," the president of the Northeastern continued, "it's +the worst mixed-up campaign I ever knew. Here we are with the convention +only two days off, and we don't know where we stand, how many delegates +we've got, or whether this upstart at Leith is going to be nominated over +our heads. Here's Adam Hunt with his back up, declaring he's a reformer, +and all his section of the State behind him. Now if that could have been +handled otherwise--" + +"Who told Hunt to go in?" Hilary inquired. + +"Things were different then," said Mr. Flint, vigorously. "Hunt had been +promised the governorship for a long time, and when Ridout became out of +the question--" + +"Why did Ridout become out of the question?" asked Hilary. + +Mr. Flint made a gesture of impatience. + +"On account of that foolishness in the Legislature, of course." + +"That foolishness in the Legislature, as you call it, represented a +sentiment all over the State," said Hilary. "And if I'd been you, I +wouldn't have let Hunt in this year. But you didn't ask my opinion. You +asked me when you begged me to get Adam out, and I predicted that he +wouldn't get out." + +Mr. Flint took a turn up and down the room. + +"I'm sorry I didn't send for him to go to New York," he said. "Well, +anyway, the campaign's been muddled, that's certain,--whoever muddled +it." And the president looked at his counsel as though he, at least, had +no doubts on this point. But Hilary appeared unaware of the implication, +and made no reply. + +"I can't find out what Bascom and Botcher are doing," Mr. Flint went on; +"I don't get any reports--they haven't been here. Perhaps you know. +They've had trip passes enough to move the whole population of Putnam +County. Fairplay says they're gettin' delegates for Adam Hunt instead of +Giles Henderson. And Whitredge says that Jake Botcher is talking +reform." + +"I guess Botcher and Bascom know their business," said Mr. Vane. If Mr. +Flint had been a less concentrated man, he might have observed that the +Honourable Hilary had not cut a piece of Honey Dew this afternoon. + +"What is their business?" asked Mr. Flint--a little irrelevantly for him. + +"What you and I taught 'em," said Mr. Vane. + +Mr. Flint considered this a moment, and decided to let it pass. He +looked at the Honourable Hilary more closely, however. + +"What's the matter with you, Vane? You're not sick, are you?" + +"No." + +Mr. Flint took another turn. + +"Now the question is, what are we going to do? If you've got any plan, I +want to hear it." + +Mr. Vane was silent. + +"Suppose Crewe goes into the convention with enough delegates to lock it +up, so that none of the three has a majority?" + +"I guess he'll do that," said Mr. Vane. He fumbled in his pocket, and +drew out a typewritten list. It must be explained that the caucuses, or +primaries, had been held in the various towns of the State at odd dates, +and that the delegates pledged for the different candidates had been +published in the newspapers from time to time--although very much in +accordance with the desires of their individual newspapers. Mr. Crewe's +delegates necessarily had been announced by what is known as political +advertising. Mr. Flint took the Honourable Hilary's list, ran his eye +over it, and whistled. + +"You mean he claims three hundred and fifty out of the thousand." + +"No," said Hilary, "he claims six hundred. He'll have three hundred and +fifty." + +In spite of the 'Book of Arguments,' Mr. Crewe was to have three hundred! +It was incredible, preposterous. Mr. Flint looked at his counsel once +more, and wondered whether he could be mentally failing. + +"Fairplay only gives him two hundred." + +"Fairplay only gave him ten, in the beginning," said Hilary. + +"You come here two days before the convention and tell me Crewe has three +hundred and fifty!" Mr. Flint exclaimed, as though Hilary Vane were +personally responsible for Mr. Crewe's delegates. A very different tone +from that of other times, when conventions were mere ratifications of +Imperial decrees. "Do you realize what it means if we lose control? +Thousands and thousands of dollars in improvements--rolling stock, better +service, new bridges, and eliminations of grade crossings. And they'll +raise our tax rate to the average, which means thousands more. A new +railroad commission that we can't talk to, and lower dividends--lower +dividends, do you understand? That means trouble with the directors, the +stockholders, and calls for explanations. And what explanations can I +make which can be printed in a public report?" + +"You were always pretty good at 'em, Flint," said Hilary. + +This remark, as was perhaps natural, did not improve the temper of the +president of the Northeastern. + +"If you think I like this political business any better than you do, +you're mightily mistaken," he replied. "And now I want to hear what plan +you've got for the convention. Suppose there's a deadlock, as you say +there will be, how are you going to handle it? Can you get a deal +through between Giles Henderson and Adam Hunt? With all my other work, +I've had to go into this myself. Hunt hasn't got a chance. Bascom and +Botcher are egging him on and making him believe he has. When Hunt gets +into the convention and begins to fall off, you've got to talk to him, +Vane. And his delegates have all got to be seen at the Pelican the night +before and understand that they're to swing to Henderson after two +ballots. You've got to keep your hand on the throttle in the convention, +you understand. And I don't need to impress upon you how grave are the +consequences if this man Crewe gets in, with public sentiment behind him +and a reactionary Lower House. You've got to keep your hand on the +throttle." + +"That's part of my business, isn't it?" Hilary asked, without turning his +head. + +Mr. Flint did not answer, but his eye rested again on his counsel's face. + +"I'm that kind of a lawyer," Hilary continued, apparently more to himself +than to his companion. "You pay me for that sort of thing more than for +the work I do in the courts. Isn't that so, Flint?" + +Mr. Flint was baffled. Two qualities which were very dear to him he +designated as sane and safe, and he had hitherto regarded his counsel as +the sanest and safest of men. This remark made him wonder seriously +whether the lawyer's mind were not giving away; and if so, to whom was he +to turn at this eleventh hour? No man in the State knew the ins and outs +of conventions as did Hilary Vane; and, in the rare times when there had +been crises, he had sat quietly in the little room off the platform as at +the keyboard of an organ, and the delegates had responded to his touch. +Hilary Vane had named the presidents of conventions, and the committees, +and by pulling out stops could get such resolutions as he wished--or as +Mr. Flint wished. But now? + +Suddenly a suspicion invaded Mr. Flint's train of thought; he repeated +Hilary's words over to himself. "I'm that kind of a lawyer," and another +individuality arose before the president of the Northeastern. Instincts +are curious things. On the day, some years before, when Austen Vane had +brought his pass into this very room and laid it down on his desk, Mr. +Flint had recognized a man with whom he would have to deal,--a stronger +man than Hilary. Since then he had seen Austen's hand in various +disturbing matters, and now it was as if he heard Austen speaking. "I'm +that kind of a lawyer." Not Hilary Vane, but Hilary Vane's son was +responsible for Hilary Vane's condition--this recognition came to Mr. +Flint in a flash. Austen had somehow accomplished the incredible feat of +making Hilary Vane ashamed--and when such men as Hilary are ashamed, +their usefulness is over. Mr. Flint had seen the thing happen with a +certain kind of financiers, one day aggressive, combative, and the next +broken, querulous men. Let a man cease to believe in what he is doing, +and he loses force. + +The president of the Northeastern used a locomotive as long as possible, +but when it ceased to be able to haul a train up-grade, he sent it to the +scrap-heap. Mr. Flint was far from being a bad man, but he worshipped +power, and his motto was the survival of the fittest. He did not yet +feel pity for Hilary--for he was angry. Only contempt,--contempt that +one who had been a power should come to this. To draw a somewhat far- +fetched parallel, a Captain Kidd or a Caesar Borgia with a conscience +would never have been heard of. Mr. Flint did not call it a conscience-- +he had a harder name for it. He had to send Hilary, thus vitiated, into +the Convention to conduct the most important battle since the founding of +the Empire, and Austen Vane was responsible. + +Mr. Flint had to control himself. In spite of his feelings, he saw that +he must do so. And yet he could not resist saying: +"I get a good many rumours here. They tell me that there may be another +candidate in the field--a dark horse." + +"Who?" asked Hilary. + +"There was a meeting in the room of a man named Redbrook during the +Legislature to push this candidate," said Mr. Flint, eyeing his counsel +significantly, "and now young Gaylord has been going quietly around the +State in his interest." + +Suddenly the listless figure of Hilary Vane straightened, and the old +look which had commanded the respect and obedience of men returned to his +eye. + +"You mean my son?" he demanded. + +"Yes," said Mr. Flint; "they tell me that when the time comes, your, son +will be a candidate on a platform opposed to our interests." + +"Then," said Hilary, "they tell you a damned lie." + +Hilary Vane had not sworn for a quarter of a century, and yet it is to be +doubted if he ever spoke more nobly. He put his hands on the arms of his +chair and lifted himself to his feet, where he stood for a moment, a tell +figure to be remembered. Mr. Flint remembered it for many years. Hilary +Vane's long coat was open, and seemed in itself to express this strange +and new-found vigour in its flowing lines; his head was thrown back, and +a look on his face which Mr. Flint had never seen there. He drew from an +inner pocket a long envelope, and his hand trembled, though with seeming +eagerness, as he held it out to Mr. Flint. + +"Here!" he said. + +What's this?" asked Mr. Flint. He evinced no desire to take it, but +Hilary pressed it on him. + +"My resignation as counsel for your road." + +The president of the Northeastern, bewildered by this sudden +transformation, stared at the envelope. + +"What? Now--to-day?" he said. + +"No," answered Hilary; "read it. You'll see it takes effect the day +after the State convention. I'm not much use any more you've done your +best to bring that home to me, and you'll need a new man to do--the kind +of work I've been doing for you for twenty-five years. But you can't get +a new man in a day, and I said I'd stay with you, and I keep my word. +I'll go to the convention; I'll do my best for you, as I always have. +But I don't like it, and after that I'm through. After that I become a +lawyer--lawyer, do you understand?" + +"A lawyer?" Mr. Flint repeated. + +"Yes, a lawyer. Ever since last June, when I came up here, I've realized +what I was. A Brush Bascom, with a better education and more brains, but +a Brush Bascom--with the brains prostituted. While things were going +along smoothly I didn't know--you never attempted to talk to me this way +before. Do you remember how you took hold of me that day, and begged me +to stay? I do, and I stayed. Why? Because I was a friend of yours. +Association with you for twenty-five years had got under my skin, and I +thought it had got under yours." Hilary let his hand fall. "To-day +you've given me a notion of what friendship is. You've given me a chance +to estimate myself on a new basis, and I'm much obliged to you for that. +I haven't got many years left, but I'm glad to have found out what my +life has been worth before I die." + +He buttoned up his coat slowly, glaring at Mr. Flint the while with a +courage and a defiance that were superb. And he had picked up his hat +before Mr. Flint found his tongue. + +"You don't mean that, Vane," he cried. "My God, think what you've said!" + +Hilary pointed at the desk with a shaking finger. + +"If that were a scaffold, and a rope were around my neck, I'd say it over +again. And I thank God I've had a chance to say it to you." He paused, +cleared his throat, and continued in a voice that all at once had become +unemotional and natural. "I've three tin boxes of the private papers you +wanted. I didn't think of 'em to-day, but I'll bring 'em up to you +myself on Thursday." + +Mr. Flint reflected afterwards that what made him helpless must have been +the sudden change in Hilary's manner to the commonplace. The president +of the Northeastern stood where he was, holding the envelope in his hand, +apparently without the power to move or speak. He watched the tall form +of his chief counsel go through the doorway, and something told him that +that exit was coincident with the end of an era. + +The end of an era of fraud, of self-deception, of conditions that +violated every sacred principle of free government which men had shed +blood to obtain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +AN ADVENTURE OF VICTORIA'S + +Mrs. Pomfret was a proud woman, for she had at last obtained the consent +of the lion to attend a lunch party. She would have liked a dinner much +better, but beggars are not choosers, and she seized eagerly on the +lunch. The two days before the convention Mr. Crewe was to spend at +Leith; having continual conferences, of course, receiving delegations, +and discussing with prominent citizens certain offices which would be in +his gift when he became governor. Also, there was Mr. Watling's +nominating speech to be gone over carefully, and Mr. Crewe's own speech +of acceptance to be composed. He had it in his mind, and he had decided +that it should have two qualities: it should be brief and forceful. + +Gratitude, however, is one of the noblest qualities of man, and a +statesman should not fail to reward his faithful workers and adherents. +As one of the chiefest of these, Mrs. Pomfret was entitled to high +consideration. Hence the candidate had consented to have a lunch given +in his honour, naming the day and the hour; and Mrs. Pomfret, believing +that a prospective governor should possess some of the perquisites of +royalty, in a rash moment submitted for his approval a list of guests. +This included two distinguished foreigners who were staying at the Leith +Inn, an Englishman and an Austrian, and an elderly lady of very +considerable social importance who was on a visit to Mrs. Pomfret. + +Mr. Crewe had graciously sanctioned the list, but took the liberty of +suggesting as an addition to it the name of Miss Victoria Flint, +explaining over the telephone to Mrs. Pomfret that he had scarcely seen +Victoria all summer, and that he wanted particularly to see her. Mrs. +Pomfret declared that she had only left out Victoria because her presence +might be awkward for both of them, but Mr. Crewe waved this aside as a +trivial and feminine objection; so Victoria was invited, and another +young man to balance the table. + +Mrs. Pomfret, as may have been surmised, was a woman of taste, and her +villa at Leith, though small, had added considerably to her reputation +for this quality. Patterson Pomfret had been a gentleman with red cheeks +and an income, who incidentally had been satisfied with both. He had +never tried to add to the income, which was large enough to pay the dues +of the clubs the lists of which he thought worthy to include his name; +large enough to pay hotel bills in London and Paris and at the baths, and +to free the servants at country houses; large enough to clothe his wife +and himself, and to teach Alice the three essentials of music, French, +and deportment. If that man is notable who has mastered one thing well, +Patterson Pomfret was a notable man: he had mastered the possibilities of +his income, and never in any year had he gone beyond it by so much as a +sole d vin blanc or a pair of red silk stockings. When he died, he left +a worthy financial successor in his wife. + +Mrs. Pomfret, knowing the income, after an exhaustive search decided upon +Leith as the place to build her villa. It must be credited to her +foresight that, when she built, she saw the future possibilities of the +place. The proper people had started it. And it must be credited to her +genius that she added to these possibilities of Leith by bringing to it +such families as she thought worthy to live in the neighbourhood-- +families which incidentally increased the value of the land. Her villa +had a decided French look, and was so amazingly trim and neat and +generally shipshape as to be fit--for only the daintiest and most +discriminating feminine occupation. The house was small, and its +metamorphosis from a plain wooden farm-house had been an achievement that +excited general admiration. Porches had been added, and a coat of +spotless white relieved by an orange striping so original that many +envied, but none dared to copy it. The striping went around the white +chimneys, along the cornice, under the windows and on the railings of the +porch: there were window boxes gay with geraniums and abundant awnings +striped white and red, to match the flowers: a high, formal hemlock hedge +hid the house from the road, through which entered a blue-stone drive +that cut the close-cropped lawn and made a circle to the doorway. Under +the great maples on the lawn were a tea-table, rugs, and wicker chairs, +and the house itself was furnished by a variety of things of a design not +to be bought in the United States of America: desks, photograph frames, +writing-sets, clocks, paperknives, flower baskets, magazine racks, +cigarette boxes, and dozens of other articles for the duplicates of which +one might have searched Fifth Avenue in vain. + +Mr. Crewe was a little late. Important matters, he said, had detained +him at the last moment, and he particularly enjoined Mrs. Pomfret's +butler to listen carefully for the telephone, and twice during lunch it +was announced that Mr. Crewe was wanted. At first he was preoccupied, +and answered absently across the table the questions of the Englishman +and the Austrian about American politics, and talked to the lady of +social prominence on his right not at all; nor to Mrs. Pomfret'--who +excused him. Being a lady of discerning qualities, however, the hostess +remarked that Mr. Crewe's eyes wandered more than once to the far end of +the oval table, where Victoria sat, and even Mrs. Pomfret could not deny +the attraction. Victoria wore a filmy gown of mauve that infinitely +became her, and a shadowy hat which, in the semi-darkness of the dining +room, was a wondrous setting for her shapely head. Twice she caught Mr. +Crewe's look upon her and returned it amusedly from under her lashes,-- +and once he could have sworn that she winked perceptibly. What fires she +kindled in his deep nature it is impossible to say. + +She had kindled other fires at her side. The tall young Englishman had +lost interest in American politics, had turned his back upon poor Alice +Pomfret, and had forgotten the world in general. Not so the Austrian, +who was on the other side of Alice, and who could not see Victoria. Mr. +Crewe, by his manner and appearance, had impressed him as a person of +importance, and he wanted to know more. Besides, he wished to improve +his English, and Alice had been told to speak French to him. By a lucky +chance, after several blind attempts, he awakened the interest of the +personality. + +"I hear you are what they call reform in America?" + +This was not the question that opened the gates. + +"I don't care much for the word," answered Mr. Crewe, shortly; "I prefer +the word progressive." + +Discourse on the word "progressive" by the Austrian almost a monologue. +But he was far from being discouraged. + +"And Mrs. Pomfret tells me they play many detestable tricks on you--yes?" + +"Tricks!" exclaimed Mr. Crewe, the memory of many recent ones being fresh +in his mind; "I should say so. Do you know what a caucus is?" + +"Caucus--caucus? It brings something to my head. Ah, I have seen a +picture of it, in some English book. A very funny picture--it is in +fun, yes?" + +"A picture?" said Mr. Crewe. "Impossible!" + +"But no," said the Austrian, earnestly, with one finger to his temples. +"It is a funny picture, I know. I cannot recall. But the word caucus I +remember. That is a droll word." + +"Perhaps, Baron," said Victoria, who had been resisting an almost +uncontrollable desire to laugh, "you have been reading 'Alice in +Wonderland.'" + +The Englishman, Beatrice Chillingham, and some others (among whom were +not Mr. Crewe and Mrs. Pomfret) gave way to an extremely pardonable +mirth, in which the good-natured baron joined. + +"Ach!" he cried. "It is so, I have seen it in 'Alice in Wonderland.'" +Here the puzzled expression returned to his face, "But they are birds, +are they not?" + +Men whose minds are on serious things are impatient of levity, and Mr. +Crewe looked at the baron: + +"No," he said, "they are not birds." + +This reply was the signal for more laughter. + +"A thousand pardons," exclaimed the baron. "It is I who am so ignorant. +You will excuse me--yes?" + +Mr. Crewe was mollified. The baron was a foreigner, he had been the +object of laughter, and Mr. Crewe's chivalrous spirit resented it. + +"What we call a caucus in the towns of this State," he said, "is a +meeting of citizens of one party to determine who their candidates shall +be. A caucus is a primary. There is a very loose primary law in this +State, purposely kept loose by the politicians of the Northeastern +Railroads, in order that they may play such tricks on decent men as they +have been playing on me." + +At this mention of the Northeastern Railroads the lady on Mr. Crewe's +right, and some other guests, gave startled glances at Victoria. They +observed with surprise that she seemed quite unmoved. + +"I'll tell you one or two of the things those railroad lobbyists have +done," said Mr. Crewe, his indignation rising with the subject, and still +addressing the baron. "They are afraid to let the people into the +caucuses, because they know I'll get the delegates. Nearly everywhere I +speak to the people, I get the delegates. The railroad politicians send +word to the town rings to hold snap caucuses' when they hear I'm coming +into a town to speak, and the local politicians give out notices only a +day before, and only to the voters they want in the caucus. In Hull the +other day, out of a population of two thousand, twenty men elected four +delegates for the railroad candidate." + +"It is corruption!" cried the baron, who had no idea who Victoria was, +and a very slim notion of what Mr. Crewe was talking about. + +"Corruption!" said Mr. Crewe. "What can you expect when a railroad owns +a State? The other day in Britain, where they elect fourteen delegates, +the editor of a weekly newspaper printed false ballots with two of my men +at the top and one at the bottom, and eleven railroad men in the middle. +Fortunately some person with sense discovered the fraud before it was too +late." + +"You don't tell me!" said the baron. + +"And every State and federal office-holder has been distributing passes +for the last three weeks." + +"Pass?" repeated the baron. "You mean they fight with the fist--so? To +distribute a pass--so," and the baron struck out at an imaginary enemy. +"It is the American language. I have read it in the prize-fight. I am +told to read the prize-fight and the base-ball game." + +Mr. Crewe thought it obviously useless to continue this conversation. + +"The railroad," said the baron, "he is the modern Machiavelli." + +"I say," Mr. Rangely, the Englishman, remarked to Victoria, "this is a +bit rough on you, you know." + +"Oh, I'm used to it," she laughed. + +"Mr. Crewe," said Mrs. Pomfret, to the table at large, "deserves +tremendous credit for the fight he has made, almost single-handed. Our +greatest need in this country is what you have in England, Mr. Rangely,-- +gentlemen in politics. Our country gentlemen, like Mr. Crewe, are now +going to assume their proper duties and responsibilities." She laid her +napkin on the table and glanced at Alice as she continued: "Humphrey, I +shall have to appoint you, as usual, the man of the house. Will you take +the gentlemen into the library?" + +Another privilege of celebrity is to throw away one's cigar, and walk out +of the smoking room if one is bored. Mr. Crewe was, in a sense, the +host. He indicated with a wave of his hand the cigars and cigarettes +which Mrs. Pomfret had provided, and stood in a thoughtful manner before +the empty fireplace, with his hands in his pockets, replying in brief +sentences to the questions of Mr. Chillingham and the others. To tell +the truth, Mr. Crewe was bringing to bear all of his extraordinary +concentration of mind upon a problem with which he had been occupied for +some years past. He was not a man, as we know, to take the important +steps of life in a hurry, although; like the truly great, he was capable +of making up his mind in a very brief period when it was necessary to +strike. He had now, after weighing the question with the consideration +which its gravity demanded, finally decided upon definite action. +Whereupon he walked out of the library, leaving the other guests to +comment as they would; or not comment at all, for all he cared. Like all +masterful men, he went direct to the thing he wanted. + +The ladies were having coffee under the maples, by the tea-table. At +some little distance from the group Beatrice Chillingham was walking with +Victoria, and it was evident that Victoria found Miss Chillingham's +remarks amusing. These were the only two in the party who did not +observe Mr. Crewe's approach. Mrs. Pomfret, when she saw the direction +which he was taking, lost the thread of her conversation, and the lady +who was visiting her wore a significant expression. + +"Victoria," said Mr. Crewe, "let's go around to the other side of the +house and look at the view." + +Victoria started and turned to him from Miss Chillingham, with the fun +still sparkling in her eyes. It was, perhaps, as well for Mr. Crewe that +he had not overheard their conversation; but this might have applied to +any man. + +"Are you sure you can spare the time?" she asked. + +Mr. Crewe looked at his watch--probably from habit. + +"I made it a point to leave the smoking room early," he replied. + +"We're flattered--aren't we, Beatrice?" + +Miss Chillingham had a turned-up nose, and a face which was apt to be +slightly freckled at this time of year; for she contemned vanity and +veils. For fear of doing her an injustice, it must be added that she was +not at all bad-looking; quite the contrary All that can be noted in this +brief space is that Beatrice Chillingham was herself. Some people +declared that she was possessed of the seven devils of her sex which Mr. +Stockton wrote about. + +"I'm flattered," she said, and walked off towards the tea-table with a +glance in which Victoria read many meanings. Mr. Crewe paid no attention +either to words, look, or departure. + +"I want to talk to you," he said. + +"You've made that very plain, at least," answered Victoria. "Why did you +pretend it was the view?" + +"Some conventionalities have to be observed, I suppose," he said. "Let's +go around there. It is a good view." + +"Don't you think this is a little--marked?" asked Victoria, surveying him +with her hands behind her back. + +"I can't help it if it is," said Mr. Crewe. "Every hour is valuable to +me, and I've got to take my chances when I get 'em. For some reason, you +haven't been down at Leith much this summer. Why didn't you telephone +me, as I asked you." + +"Because I've suddenly grown dignified, I suppose," she said. "And then, +of course, I hesitated to intrude upon such a person of importance as you +have become, Humphrey." + +"I've always got time to see you," he replied. "I always shall have. +But I appreciate your delicacy. That sort of thing counts with a man +more than most women know." + +"Then I am repaid," said Victoria, "for exercising self-control." + +"I find it always pays," declared Mr. Crewe, and he glanced at her with +distinct approval. They were skirting the house, and presently came out +upon a tiny terrace where young Ridley had made a miniature Italian +garden when the Electric dividends had increased, and from which there +was a vista of the shallows of the Blue. Here was a stone garden-seat +which Mrs. Pomfret had brought from Italy, and over which she had +quarrelled with the customs authorities. Mr. Crewe, with a wave of his +hand, signified his pleasure that they should sit, and cleared his +throat. + +"It's just as well, perhaps," he began, "that we haven't had the chance +to see each other earlier. When a man starts out upon an undertaking of +the gravest importance, wherein he stakes his reputation, an undertaking +for which he is ridiculed and reviled, he likes to have his judgment +justified. He likes to be vindicated, especially in the eyes of--people +whom he cares about. Personally, I never had any doubt that I should be +the next governor, because I knew in the beginning that I had estimated +public sentiment correctly. The man who succeeds in this world is the +man who has sagacity enough to gauge public sentiment ahead of time, and +the courage to act on his beliefs." +Victoria looked at him steadily. He was very calm, and he had one knee +crossed over the other. + +"And the sagacity," she added, "to choose his lieutenants in the fight." + +"Exactly," said Mr. Crewe. "I have always declared, Victoria, that you had +a natural aptitude for affairs." + +"I have heard my father say," she continued, still maintaining her steady +glance, "that Hamilton Tooting is one of the shrewdest politicians he has +ever known. Isn't Mr. Tooting one of your right-hand men?" + +"He could hardly be called that," Mr. Crewe replied. "In fact, I haven't +any what you might call 'right-hand men.' The large problems I have had +to decide for myself. As for Tooting, he's well enough in his way; he +understands the tricks of the politicians--he's played 'em, I guess. +He's uneducated; he's merely a worker. You see," he went on, "one great +reason why I've been so successful is because I've been practical. I've +taken materials as I've found them." + +"I see," answered Victoria, turning her head and gazing over the terrace +at the sparkling reaches of the river. She remembered the close of that +wintry afternoon in Mr. Crewe's house at the capital, and she was quite +willing to do him exact justice, and to believe that he had forgotten it +--which, indeed, was the case. + +"I want to say," he continued, "that although I have known and--ahem-- +admired you for many years, Victoria, what has struck me most forcibly in +your favour has been your open-mindedness--especially on the great +political questions this summer. I have no idea how much you know about +them, but one would naturally have expected you, on account of your +father, to be prejudiced. Sometime, when I have more leisure, I shall go +into them, fully with you. And in the meantime I'll have my secretary +send you the complete list of my speeches up to date, and I know you will +read them carefully." + +"You are very kind, Humphrey," she said. + +Absorbed in the presentation of his subject (which chanced to be +himself), Mr. Crewe did not observe that her lips were parted, and that +there were little creases around her eyes. + +"And sometime," said Mr. Crewe, when all this has blown over a little, I +shall have a talk with your father. He undoubtedly understands that +there is scarcely any question of my election. He probably realizes, +too, that he has been in the--wrong, and that railroad domination must +cease--he has already made several concessions, as you know. I wish you +would tell him from me that when I am governor, I shall make it a point +to discuss the whole matter with him, and that he will find in me no foe +of corporations. Justice is what I stand for. Temperamentally, I am too +conservative, I am too much of a business man, to tamper with vested +interests." + +"I will tell him, Humphrey," said Victoria. + +Mr. Crewe coughed, and looked at his watch once, more. "And now, having +made that clear," he said, "and having only a quarter of an hour before I +have to leave to keep an appointment, I am going to take up another +subject. And I ask you to believe it is not done lightly, or without due +consideration, but as the result of some years of thought." + +Victoria turned to him seriously--and yet the creases were still around +her eyes. + +"I can well believe it, Humphrey," she answered. "But--have you time?" + +"Yes," he said, "I have learned the value of minutes." + +"But not of hours, perhaps," she replied. + +That," said Mr. Crewe, indulgently, "is a woman's point of view. A man +cannot dally through life, and your kind of woman has no use for a man +who dallies. First, I will give you my idea of a woman." + +"I am all attention," said Victoria. + +"Well," said Mr. Crewe, putting the tops of his fingers together, "she +should excel as a housewife. I haven't any use for your so-called +intellectual woman. Of course, what I mean by a housewife is something a +little less bourgeoise; she should be able to conduct an establishment +with the neatness and despatch and economy of a well-run hotel. She +should be able to seat a table instantly and accurately, giving to the +prominent guests the prestige they deserve. Nor have I any sympathy with +the notion that makes a married woman a law unto herself. She enters +voluntarily into an agreement whereby she puts herself under the control +of her husband: his interests, his career, his--" + +"Comfort?" suggested Victoria. + +"Yes, his comfort--all that comes first. And his establishment is +conducted primarily, and his guests selected, in the interests of his +fortunes. Of course, that goes without saying of a man in high place in +public life. But he must choose for his wife a woman who is equal to all +these things,--to my mind her highest achievement,--who makes the most of +the position he gives her, presides at his table and entertainments, and +reaches such people as, for any reason, he is unable to reach. I have +taken the pains to point out these things in a general way, for obvious +reasons. My greatest desire is to be fair." + +"What," asked Victoria, with her eyes on the river, "what are the wages?" + +Mr. Crewe laughed. Incidentally, he thought her profile very fine. + +"I do not believe in flattery," he said, "but I think I should add to the +qualifications personality and a sense of humour. I am quite sure I +could never live with a woman--who didn't have a sense of humour." + +"I should think it would be a little difficult," said Victoria, "to get a +woman with the qualifications you enumerate and a sense of humour thrown +in." + +"Infinitely difficult," declared Mr. Crewe, with more ardour than he had +yet shown. "I have waited a good many years, Victoria." + +"And yet," she said, "you have been happy. You have a perpetual source +of enjoyment denied to some people." + +"What is that?" he asked. It is natural for a man to like to hear the +points of his character discussed by a discerning woman. + +"Yourself," said Victoria, suddenly looking him full in the face. "You +are complete, Humphrey, as it is. You are happily married already. +Besides," she added, laughing a little, "the qualities you have +mentioned--with the exception of the sense of humour--are not those of a +wife, but of a business partner of the opposite sex. What you really +want is a business partner with something like a fifth interest, and +whose name shall not appear in the agreement." + +Mr. Crewe laughed again. Nevertheless, he was a little puzzled over this +remark. + +"I am not sentimental," he began. + +"You certainly are not," she said. + +"You have a way," he replied, with a shade of reproof in his voice, "you +have a way at times of treating serious things with a little less gravity +than they deserve. I am still a young man, but I have seen a good deal +of life, and I know myself pretty well. It is necessary to treat +matrimony from a practical as well as a sentimental point of view. There +wouldn't be half the unhappiness and divorces if people took time to do +this, instead of rushing off and getting married immediately. And of +course it is especially important for a man in my position to study every +aspect of the problem before he takes a step." + +By this time a deep and absorbing interest in a new aspect of Mr. Crewe's +character had taken possession of Victoria. + +"And you believe that, by taking thought, you can get the kind of a wife +you want?" she asked. + +"Certainly," he replied; "does that strike you as strange?" + +"A little," said Victoria. "Suppose," she added gently, "suppose that +the kind of wife you'd want wouldn't want you?" + +Mr. Crewe laughed again. + +"That is a contingency which a strong man does not take into +consideration," he answered. "Strong men get what they want. But upon +my word, Victoria, you have a delicious way of putting things. In your +presence I quite forget the problems and perplexities which beset me. +That," he said, with delicate meaning, "that is another quality I should +desire in a woman." + +"It is one, fortunately, that isn't marketable," she said, "and it's the +only quality you've mentioned that's worth anything." + +"A woman's valuation," said Mr. Crewe. + +"If it made you forget your own affairs, it would be priceless." + +"Look here, Victoria," cried Mr. Crewe, uncrossing his knees, "joking's +all very well, but I haven't time for it to-day. And I'm in a serious +mood. I've told you what I want, and now that I've got to go in a few +minutes, I'll come to the point. I don't suppose a man could pay a woman +a higher compliment than to say that his proposal was the result of some +years of thought and study." + +Here Victoria laughed outright, but grew serious again at once. + +"Unless he proposed to her the day he met her. That would be a real +compliment." + +"The man," said Mr. Crewe, impatiently, "would be a fool." + +"Or else a person of extreme discernment," said Victoria. "And love is +lenient with fools. By the way, Humphrey, it has just occurred to me +that there's one quality which some people think necessary in a wife, +which you didn't mention." + +"What's that?" + +"Love," said Victoria. + +"Love, of course," he agreed; "I took that for granted." + +"I supposed you did," said Victoria, meekly. + +"Well, now, to come to the point--" he began again. + +But she interrupted him by glancing at the watch on her gown, and rising. + +"What's the matter?" he asked, with some annoyance. + +"The fifteen minutes are up," she announced. "I cannot take the +responsibility of detaining you." + +"We will put in tantalizing as another attractive quality," he laughed. +"I absolve you of all responsibility. Sit down." + +"I believe you mentioned obedience," she answered, and sat down again at +the end of the bench, resting her chin on her gloved hand, and looking at +him. By this time her glances seemed to have gained a visibly disturbing +effect. He moved a little nearer to her, took off his hat (which he had +hitherto neglected to do), and thrust his hands abruptly into his +pockets--as much as to say that he would not be responsible for their +movements if they were less free. + +"Hang it all, Victoria," he exclaimed, "I'm a practical man, and I try to +look at this, which is one of the serious things in life, in a practical +way." + +"One of the serious things," she repeated, as though to herself. + +"Yes," he said, "certainly." + +"I merely asked to be sure of the weight you gave it. Go on." + +"In a practical way, as I was saying. Long ago I suspected that you had +most of those qualities." + +"I'm overwhelmed, Humphrey," she cried, with her eyes dancing. "But--do +you think I could cultivate the rest?" + +"Oh, well," said Mr. Crewe, I put it that way because no woman is +perfect, and I dislike superlatives." + +"I should think superlatives would be very hard to live with," she +reflected. "But--dreadful thought!--suppose I should lack an essential?" + +"What--for instance?" + +"Love--for instance. But then you did not put it first. It was I who +mentioned it, and you who took it for granted." + +"Affection seems to be a more sensible term for it," he said. "Affection +is the lasting and sensible thing. You mentioned a partnership, a word +that singularly fits into my notion of marriage. I want to be honest +with you, and understate my feelings on that subject." + +Victoria, who had been regarding him with a curious look that puzzled +him, laughed again. + +"I have been hoping you haven't exaggerated them," she replied. + +"They're stronger than you think," he declared. "I never felt this way +in my life before. What I meant to say was, that I never understood +running away with a woman." + +"That does not surprise me," said Victoria. + +"I shouldn't know where to run to," he proclaimed. + +"Perhaps the woman would, if you got a clever one. At any rate, it +wouldn't matter. One place is as good as another. Some go to Niagara, +and some to Coney Island, and others to Venice. Personally, I should +have no particular preference." + +"No preference!" he exclaimed. + +"I could be happy in Central Park," she declared. + +"Fortunately," said Mr. Crewe, "you will never be called upon to make the +trial." + +Victoria was silent. Her thoughts, for the moment, had flown elsewhere, +but Mr. Crewe did not appear to notice this. He fell back into the +rounded hollow of the bench, and it occurred to him that he had never +quite realized that profile. And what an ornament she would be to his +table. + +"I think, Humphrey," she said, "that we should be going back." + +"One moment, and I'll have finished," he cried. "I've no doubt you are +prepared for what I am going to say. I have purposely led up to it, in +order that there might be no misunderstanding. In short, I have never +seen another woman with personal characteristics so well suited for my +life, and I want you to marry me, Victoria. I can offer you the position +of the wife of a man with a public career--for which you are so well +fitted." + +Victoria shook her head slowly, and smiled at him. + +"I couldn't fill the position," she said. + +"Perhaps," he replied, smiling back at her, "perhaps I am the best judge +of that." + +"And you thought," she asked slowly, "that I was that kind of a woman?" + +"I know it to be a practical certainty," said Mr. Crewe. + +"Practical certainties," said Victoria, "are not always truths. If I +should sign a contract, which I suppose, as a business man, you would +want, to live up to the letter of your specifications,--even then I could +not do it. I should make life a torture for you, Humphrey. You see, I +am honest with you, too--much as your offer dazzles me." And she shook +her head again. + +"That," exclaimed Mr. Crewe, impatiently, "is sheer nonsense. I want +you, and I mean to have you." + +There came a look into her eyes which Mr. Crewe did not see, because her +face was turned from him. + +"I could be happy," she said, "for days and weeks and years in a but on +the side of Sawanec. I could be happy in a farm-house where I had to do +all the work. I am not the model housewife which your imagination +depicts, Humphrey. I could live in two rooms and eat at an Italian +restaurant--with the right man. And I am afraid the wrong one would wake +up one day and discover that I had gone. I am sorry to disillusionize +you, but I don't care a fig for balls and garden-parties and salons. It +would be much more fun to run away from them to the queer places of the +earth--with the right man. And I should have to possess one essential to +put up with--greatness and what you call a public career." + +"And what is that essential?" he asked. + +"Love," said Victoria. He heard the word but faintly, for her face was +still turned away from him. "You've offered me the things that are +attainable by taking thought, by perseverance, by pertinacity, by the +outwitting of your fellow-men, by the stacking of coins. And I want--the +unattainable, the divine gift which is bestowed, which cannot be +acquired. If it could be acquired, Humphrey," she added, looking at him, +"I am sure you would acquire it--if you thought it worth while." + +"I don't understand you," he said,--and looked it. + +"No," said Victoria, "I was afraid you wouldn't. And moreover, you never +would. There is no use in my trying to make myself any clearer, and +you'll have to keep your appointment. I hesitate to contradict you, but +I am not the kind of woman you want. That is one reason I cannot marry +you. And the other is, that I do not love you." + +"You can't be in love with any one else?" he cried. + +"That does seem rather preposterous, I'll admit," she answered. "But if I +were, it wouldn't make any difference." + +"You won't marry me?" he said, getting to his feet. There was +incredulity in his voice, and a certain amount of bewilderment. The +thing was indeed incredible! + +"No," said Victoria, "I won't." + +And he had only to look into her face to see that it was so. Hitherto +nil desperandum had been a good working motto, but something told him it +was useless in this case. He thrust on his hat and pulled out his watch. + +"Well," he said, "that settles it. I must--say I can't see your point of +view--but that settles it. I must say, too, that your refusal is +something of a shock after what I had been led to expect after the past +few years." + +"The person you are in love with led you to expect it, Humphrey, and that +person is--yourself. You are in love temporarily with your own ideal of +me." + +"And your refusal comes at an unfortunate tune for me," he continued, not +heeding her words, "when I have an affair on my hands of such magnitude, +which requires concentrated thought. But I'm not a man to cry, and I'll +make the best of it." + +"If I thought it were more than a temporary disappointment, I should be +sorry for you," said Victoria. "I remember that you felt something like +this when Mr. Rutter wouldn't sell you his land. The lady you really +want," she added, pointing with her parasol at the house, "is in there, +waiting for you." + +Mr. Crewe did not reply to this prophecy, but followed Victoria around +the house to the group on the lawn, where he bade his hostess a somewhat +preoccupied farewell, and bowed distantly to the guests. + +"He has so much on his mind," said Mrs. Pomfret. "And oh, I quite +forgot--Humphrey!" she cried, calling after him, "Humphrey!" + +"Yes," he said, turning before he reached his automobile. "What is it?" + +"Alice and I are going to the convention, you know, and I meant to tell +you that there would be ten in the party--but I didn't have a chance." +Here Mrs. Pomfret glanced at Victoria, who had been joined at once by the +tall Englishman. "Can you get tickets for ten?" + +Mr. Crewe made a memorandum. + +"Yes," he said, "I'll get the tickets--but I don't see what you want to +go for." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MORE ADVENTURER + +Victoria had not, of course, confided in Beatrice Chillingham what had +occurred in the garden, although that lady had exhibited the liveliest +interest, and had had her suspicions. After Mr. Crewe's departure Mr. +Rangely, the tall young Englishman, had renewed his attentions +assiduously, although during the interval in the garden he had found Miss +Chillingham a person of discernment. + +"She's not going to marry that chap, is she, Miss Chillingham?" he had +asked. + +"No," said Beatrice; "you have my word for it, she isn't." + +As she was leaving, Mrs. Pomfret had taken Victoria's hand and drawn her +aside, and looked into her face with a meaning smile. + +"My dear!" she exclaimed, "he particularly asked that you be invited." + +"Who?" said Victoria. + +"Humphrey. He stipulated that you should be here." + +"Then I'm very much obliged to him," said Victoria, "for I've enjoyed +myself immensely. I like your Englishman so much." + +"Do you?" said Mrs. Pomfret, searching Victoria's face, while her own +brightened. "He's heir to one of the really good titles, and he has an +income of his own. I couldn't put him up here, in this tiny box, because +I have Mrs. Fronde. We are going to take him to the convention--and if +you'd care to go, Victoria--?" + +Victoria laughed. + +"It isn't as serious as that," she said. "And I'm afraid I can't go to +the convention--I have some things to do in the neighbourhood." + +Mrs. Pomfret looked wise. + +"He's a most attractive man, with the best prospects. It would be a +splendid match for you, Victoria." + +"Mrs. Pomfret," replied Victoria, wavering between amusement and a desire +to be serious, "I haven't the slightest intention of making what you call +a 'match.'" And there was in her words a ring of truth not to be +mistaken. + +Mrs. Pomfret kissed her. + +"One never can tell what may happen," she said. "Think of him, Victoria. +And your dear mother--perhaps you will know some day what the +responsibility is of seeing a daughter well placed in life." + +Victoria coloured, and withdrew her hand. + +"I fear that time is a long way off, Mrs. Pomfret," she replied. + +"I think so much of Victoria," Mrs. Pomfret declared a moment later to +her guest; "she's like my own daughter. But at times she's so hopelessly +unconventional. Why, I believe Rangely's actually going home with her." + +"He asked her to drop him at the Inn," said Mrs. Fronde. "He's head over +heels in love already." + +"It would be such a relief to dear Rose," sighed Mrs. Pomfret. + +"I like the girl," replied Mrs. Fronde, dryly. "She has individuality, +and knows her own mind. Whoever she marries will have something to him." + +"I devoutly hope so!" said Mrs. Pomfret. + +It was quite true that Mr. Arthur Rangely had asked Victoria to drop him +at the Inn. But when they reached it he made another request. + +"Do you mind if I go a bit farther, Miss Flint?" he suggested. "I'd +rather like the walk back." + +Victoria laughed. + +"Do come," she said. + +He admired the country, but he looked at Victoria, and asked a hundred +exceedingly frank questions about Leith, about Mrs. Pomfret, whom he had +met at his uncle's seat in Devonshire, and about Mr. Crewe and the +railroads in politics. Many of these Victoria parried, and she came +rapidly to the conclusion that Mr. Arthur Rangely was a more astute +person than--to a casual observer he would seem. + +He showed no inclination to fix the limits of his walk, and made no +protest as she drove under the stone archway at the entrance of Fairview. +Victoria was amused and interested, and she decided that she liked Mr. +Rangely. + +"Will you come up for tea?" she asked. "I'll send you home." + +He accepted with alacrity. They had reached the first turn when their +attention was caught by the sight of a buggy ahead of them, and facing +towards them. The horse, with the reins hanging loosely over the shafts, +had strayed to the side of the driveway and was contentedly eating the +shrubbery that lined it. Inside the vehicle, hunched up in the corner of +the seat, was a man who presented an appearance of helplessness which +struck them both with a sobering effect. + +"Is the fellow drunk?" said Mr. Rangely. + +Victoria's answer was a little cry which startled him, and drew his look +to her. She had touched her horse with the whip, and her eyes had +widened in real alarm. + +"It's Hilary Vane!" she exclaimed. "I--I wonder what can have happened!" + +She handed the reins to Mr. Rangely, and sprang out and flew to Hilary's +side. + +"Mr. Vane!" she cried. "What's the matter? Are you ill?" + +She had never seen him look so. To her he had always been as one on whom +pity would be wasted, as one who long ago had established his credit with +the universe to his own satisfaction. But now, suddenly, intense pity +welled up within her, and even in that moment she wondered if it could be +because he was Austen's father. His hands were at his sides, his head +was fallen forward a little, and his face was white. But his eyes +frightened her most; instead of the old, semi-defiant expression which +she remembered from childhood, they had in them a dumb suffering that +went to her heart. He looked at her, tried to straighten up, and fell +back again. + +"N--nothing's the matter," he said, "nothing. A little spell. I'll be +all right in a moment." + +Victoria did not lose an instant, but climbed into the buggy at his side +and gathered up the reins, and drew the fallen lap-robe over his knees. + +"I'm going to take you back to Fairview," she said. "And we'll telephone +for a doctor." + +But she had underrated the amount of will left in him. He did not move, +though indeed if he had seized the reins from her hands, he could have +given her no greater effect of surprise. Life came back into the eyes at +the summons, and dominance into the voice, although he breathed heavily. + +"No, you're not," he said; "no, you're not. I'm going to Ripton--do you +understand? I'll be all right in a minute, and I'll take the lines." + +Victoria, when she got over her astonishment at this, reflected quickly. +She glanced at him, and the light of his expression was already fading. +There was some reason why he did not wish to go back to Fairview, and +common sense told her that agitation was not good for him; besides, they +would have to telephone to Ripton for a physician, and it was quicker to +drive there. Quicker to drive in her own runabout, did she dare to try +to move him into it. She made up her mind. + +"Please follow on behind with that trap," she called out to Rangely; "I'm +going to Ripton." + +He nodded understandingly, admiringly, and Victoria started Hilary's +horse out of the bushes towards the entrance way. From time to time she +let her eyes rest upon him anxiously. + +"Are you comfortable?" she asked. + +"Yes," he said, "yes. I'm all right. I'll be able to drive in a +minute." + +But the minutes passed, and he made no attempt to take the reins. +Victoria had drawn the whalebone whip from its socket, and was urging on +the horse as fast as humanity would permit; and the while she was aware +that Hilary's look was fixed upon her--in fact, never left her. Once or +twice, in spite of her anxiety to get him home, Victoria blushed faintly, +as she wondered what he was thinking about. + +And all the while she asked herself what it was that had brought him to +this condition. Victoria knew sufficient of life and had visited +hospitals enough to understand that mental causes were generally +responsible for such breakdowns--Hilary had had a shock. She remembered +how in her childhood he had been the object of her particular animosity; +how she used to put out her tongue at him, and imitate his manner, and +how he had never made the slightest attempt to conciliate her; most +people of this sort are sensitive to the instincts of children; but +Hilary had not been. She remembered--how long ago it seemed now!--the +day she had given him, in deviltry, the clipping about Austen shooting +Mr. Blodgett. + +The Hilary Vane who sat beside her to-day was not the same man. It was +unaccountable, but he was not. Nor could this changed estimate of him be +attributed to her regard for Austen, for she recalled a day only a few +months since--in June--when he had come up to Fairview and she was +standing on the lawn, and she had looked at him without recognition; she +had not, then, been able to bring herself to bow to him; to her childhood +distaste had been added the deeper resentment of Austen's wrongs. Her +early instincts about Hilary had been vindicated, for he had treated his +son abominably and driven Austen from his mother's home. To +misunderstand and maltreat Austen Vane, of all people Austen, whose +consideration for his father had been what it had! Could it be that +Hilary felt remorse? Could it be that he loved Austen in some peculiar +manner all his own? + +Victoria knew now--so strangely--that the man beside her was capable of +love, and she had never felt that way about Hilary Vane. And her mind +was confused, and her heart was troubled and wrung. Insight flashed upon +her of the terrible loneliness of a life surrounded by outstretched, +loving arms to which one could not fly; scenes from a famous classic she +had read with a favourite teacher at school came to her, and she knew +that she was the witness of a retribution, of a suffering beyond +conception of a soul prepared for suffering,--not physical suffering, but +of that torture which is the meaning of hell. + +However, there was physical suffering. It came and went, and at such +moments she saw the traces of it in the tightening of his lips, and +longed with womanly intuition to alleviate it. She had not spoken-- +although she could have cried aloud; she knew not what to say. And then +suddenly she reached out and touched his hand. Nor could she have +accounted for the action. + +"Are you in much pain?" she asked. + +She felt him tremble. + +"No," he said; "it's only a spell--I've had 'em before. I--I can drive +in a few minutes." + +"And do you think," she asked, "that I would allow you to go the rest of +the way alone?" + +"I guess I ought to thank you for comin' with me," he said. + +Victoria looked at him and smiled. And it was an illuminating smile for +her as well as for Hilary. Suddenly, by that strange power of sympathy +which the unselfish possess, she understood the man, understood Austen's +patience with him and affection for him. Suddenly she had pierced the +hard layers of the outer shell, and had heard the imprisoned spirit +crying with a small persistent voice,--a spirit stifled for many years +and starved--and yet it lived and struggled still. + +Yes, and that spirit itself must have felt her own reaching out to it-- +who can, say? And how it must have striven again for utterance + +"It was good of you to come," he said. + +"It was only common humanity," she answered, touching the horse. + +"Common humanity," he repeated. "You'd have done it for anybody along +the road, would you?" + +At this remark, so characteristic of Hilary, Victoria, hesitated. She +understood it now. And yet she hesitated to give him an answer that was +hypocritical. + +"I have known you all my life, Mr. Vane, and you are a very old friend of +my father's." + +"Old," he repeated, "yes, that's it. I'm ready for the scrap-heap-- +better have let me lie, Victoria." + +Victoria started. A new surmise had occurred to her upon which she did +not like to dwell. + +"You have worked too hard, Mr. Vane--you need a rest. And I have been +telling father that, too. You both need a rest." + +He shook his head. + +"I'll never get it," he said. "Stopping work won't give it to me." + +She pondered on these words as she guided the horse over a crossing. And +all that Austen had said to her, all that she had been thinking of for a +year past, helped her to grasp their meaning. But she wondered still +more at the communion which, all at once, had been established between +Hilary Vane and herself, and why he was saying these things to her. It +was all so unreal and inexplicable. + +"I can imagine that people who have worked hard all their lives must feel +that way," she answered, though her voice was not as steady as she could +have wished. "You--you have so much to live for." + +Her colour rose. She was thinking of Austen--and she knew that Hilary +Vane knew that she was thinking of Austen. Moreover, she had suddenly +grasped the fact that the gentle but persistently strong influence of the +son's character had brought about the change in the father. Hilary +Vane's lips closed again, as in pain, and she divined the reason. + +Victoria knew the house in Hanover Street, with its classic porch, with +its certain air of distinction and stability, and long before she had +known it as the Austen residence she remembered wondering who lived in +it. The house had individuality, and (looked at from the front) almost +perfect proportions; consciously--it bespoke the gentility of its +builders. Now she drew up before it and called to Mr. Rangely, who was +abreast, to tie his horse and ring the bell. Hilary was already feeling +with his foot for the step of the buggy. + +"I'm all right," he insisted; "I can manage now," but Victoria seized his +arm with a firm, detaining hand. + +"Please wait,--Mr. Vane," she pleaded. + +But the feeling of shame at his helplessness was strong. + +"It's over now. I--I can walk. I'm much obliged to you, Victoria--much +obliged." + +Fortunately Hilary's horse showed no inclination to go any farther--even +to the stable. And Victoria held on to his arm. He ceased to protest, +and Mr. Rangely quickly tied the other horse and came to Victoria's aid. +Supported by the young Englishman, Hilary climbed the stone steps and +reached the porch, declaring all the while that he needed no assistance, +and could walk alone. Victoria rang the bell, and after an interval the +door was opened by Euphrasia Cotton. + +Euphrasia stood upright with her hand on the knob, and her eyes flashed +over the group and rested fixedly on the daughter of Mr. Flint. + +"Mr. Vane was not very well," Victoria explained, "and we came home with +him." + +"I'm all right," said Hilary, once more, and to prove it he stepped--not +very steadily--across the threshold into the hall, and sat down on a +chair which had had its place at the foot of the stairs from time +immemorial. Euphrasia stood still. + +"I think," said Victoria, "that Mr. Vane had better see a doctor. Have +you a telephone?" + +"No, we haven't," said Euphrasia. + +Victoria turned to Mr. Rangely, who had been a deeply interested +spectator to this scene. + +"A little way down the street, on the other side, Dr. Tredway lives. You +will see his sign." + +"And if he isn't in, go to the hospital. It's only a few doors farther +on." + +"I'll wait," said Victoria, simply, when he had gone; "my father will +wish to know about Mr. Vane." + +"Hold on," said Hilary, "I haven't any use for a doctor--I won't see one. +I know what the trouble is, and I'm all right." + +Victoria became aware--for the first time that Hilary Vane's housekeeper +had not moved; that Euphrasia Cotton was still staring at her in a most +disconcerting manner, and was paying no attention whatever to Hilary. + +"Come in and set down," she said; and seeing Victoria glance at Hilary's +horse, she added, "Oh, he'll stand there till doomsday." + +Victoria, thinking that the situation would be less awkward, accepted the +invitation, and Euphrasia shut the door. The hall, owing to the fact +that the shutters of the windows by the stairs were always closed, was in +semidarkness. Victoria longed to let in the light, to take this strange, +dried-up housekeeper and shake her into some semblance of natural +feeling. And this was Austen's home! It was to this house, made gloomy +by these people, that he had returned every night! Infinitely depressed, +she felt that she must take some action, or cry aloud. + +"Mr. Vane," she said, laying a hand upon his shoulder, "I think you +ought, at least, to lie down for a little while. Isn't there a sofa in-- +in the parlour?" she asked Euphrasia. + +"You can't get him to do anything," Euphrasia replied, with decision; +"he'll die some day for want of a little common sense. I shouldn't +wonder if he was took on soon." + +"Oh!" cried Victoria. She could think of no words to answer this remark. + +"It wouldn't surprise me," Euphrasia continued. "He fell down the stairs +here not long ago, and went right on about his business. He's never paid +any attention to anybody, and I guess it's a mite late to expect him to +begin now. Won't you set down?" + +There was another chair against the low wainscoting, and Victoria drew it +over beside Hilary and sat down in it. He did not seem to notice the +action, and Euphrasia continued to stand. Standing seemed to be the +natural posture of this remarkable woman, Victoria thought--a posture of +vigilance, of defiance. A clock of one of the Austen grandfathers stood +obscurely at the back of the hall, and the measured swing of its pendulum +was all that broke the silence. This was Austen's home. It seemed +impossible for her to realize that he could be the product of this +environment--until a portrait on the opposite wall, above the stairs, +came out of the gloom and caught her eye like the glow of light. At +first, becoming aware of it with a start, she thought it a likeness of +Austen himself. Then she saw that the hair was longer, and more wavy +than his, and fell down a little over the velvet collar of a coat with a +wide lapel and brass buttons, and that the original of this portrait had +worn a stock. The face had not quite the strength of Austen's, she +thought, but a wondrous sweetness and intellect shone from it, like an +expression she had seen on his face. The chin rested on the hand, an +intellectual hand,--and the portrait brought to her mind that of a young +English statesman she had seen in the National Gallery in London. + +"That's Channing Austen,--he was minister to Spain." + +Victoria started. It was Euphrasia who was speaking, and unmistakable +pride was in her voice. + +Fortunately for Victoria, who would not in the least have known what to +reply, steps were heard on the porch, and Euphrasia opened the door. Mr. +Rangely had returned. + +"Here's the doctor, Miss Flint," he said, "and I'll wait for you +outside." + +Victoria rose as young Dr. Tredway came forward. They were old friends, +and the doctor, it may be recalled, had been chiefly responsible for the +preservation of the life of Mr. Zebulun Meader. + +"I have sent for you, Doctor," she said, "against instructions and on my +own responsibility. Mr. Vane is ill, although he refuses to admit it." + +Dr. Tredway had a respect for Victoria and her opinions, and he knew +Hilary. He opened the door a little wider, and looked critically at Mr. +Vane. + +"It's nothing but a spell," Hilary insisted. "I've had 'em before. I +suppose it's natural that they should scare the women-folks some." + +"What kind of a spell was it, Mr. Vane?" asked the doctor. + +"It isn't worth talking about," said Hilary. "You might as well pick up +that case of yours and go home again. I'm going down to the square in a +little while." + +"You see," Euphrasia put in, "he's made up his mind to kill himself." + +"Perhaps," said the doctor, smiling a little, "Mr. Vane wouldn't object +to Miss Flint telling me what happened." + +Victoria glanced at the doctor and hesitated. Her sympathy for Hilary, +her new understanding of him, urged her on--and yet never in her life had +she been made to feel so distinctly an intruder. Here was the doctor, +with his case; here was this extraordinary housekeeper, apparently ready +to let Hilary walk to the square, if he wished, and to shut the door on +their backs; and here was Hilary himself, who threatened at any moment to +make his word good and depart from their midst. Only the fact that she +was convinced that Hilary was in real danger made her relate, in a few +brief words, what had occurred, and when she had finished Mr. Vane made +no comment whatever. + +Dr. Tredway turned to Hilary. + +"I am going to take a mean advantage of you, Mr. Vane," he said, "and sit +here awhile and talk to yon. Would you object to waiting a little while, +Miss Flint? I have something to say to you," he added significantly, +"and this meeting will save me a trip to Fairview." + +"Certainly I'll wait," she said. + +"You can come along with me," said Euphrasia, "if you've a notion to." + +Victoria was of two minds whether to accept this invitation. She had an +intense desire to get outside, but this was counter-balanced by a sudden +curiosity to see more of this strange woman who loved but one person in +the world. Tom Gaylord had told Victoria that. She followed Euphrasia +to the back of the hall. + +"There's the parlour," said Euphrasia; "it's never be'n used since Mrs. +Vane died,--but there it is." + +"Oh," said Victoria, with a glance into the shadowy depths of the room, +"please don't open it for me. Can't we go," she added, with an +inspiration, "can't we go into--the kitchen?" She knew it was +Euphrasia's place. + +"Well," said Euphrasia, "I shouldn't have thought you'd care much about +kitchens." And she led the way onward; through the little passage, to +the room where she had spent most of her days. It was flooded with +level, yellow rays of light that seemed to be searching the corners in +vain for dust. Victoria paused in the doorway. + +"I'm afraid you do me an injustice," she said. "I like some kitchens." + +"You don't look as if you knew much about 'em," was Euphrasia's answer. +With Victoria once again in the light, Euphrasia scrutinized her with +appalling frankness, taking in every detail of her costume and at length +raising her eyes to the girl's face. Victoria coloured. On her visits +about the country-side she had met women of Euphrasia's type before, and +had long ago ceased to be dismayed by their manner. But her instinct +detected in Euphrasia a hostility for which she could not account. + +In that simple but exquisite gown which so subtly suited her, the +creation of which had aroused the artist in a celebrated Parisian +dressmaker, Victoria was, indeed, a strange visitant in that kitchen. +She took a seat by the window, and an involuntary exclamation of pleasure +escaped her as her eyes fell upon the little, old-fashioned flower garden +beneath it. The act and the exclamation for the moment disarmed +Euphrasia. + +"They were Sarah Austen's--Mrs. Vane's," she explained, "just as she +planted them the year she died. I've always kept 'em just so." + +"Mrs. Vane must have loved flowers," said Victoria. + +"Loved 'em! They were everything to her--and the wild flowers, too. She +used to wander off and spend whole days in the country, and come back +after sunset with her arms full." + +"It was nature she loved," said Victoria, in a low voice. + +"That was it--nature," said Euphrasia. "She loved all nature. There +wasn't a living, creeping thing that wasn't her friend. I've seen birds +eat out of her hand in that window where you're settin', and she'd say to +me, 'Phrasie, keep still! They'd love you, too, if they only knew you, +but they're afraid you'll scrub 'em if you get hold of them, the way you +used to scrub me.'" + +Victoria smiled--but it was a smile that had tears in it. Euphrasia +Cotton was standing in the shaft of sunlight at the other window, staring +at the little garden. + +"Yes, she used to say funny things like that, to make you laugh when you +were all ready to cry. There wasn't many folks understood her. She knew +every path and hilltop within miles of here, and every brook and spring, +and she used to talk about that mountain just as if it was alive." + +Victoria caught her breath. + +"Yes," continued Euphrasia, "the mountain was alive for her. 'He's angry +to-day, Phrasie. That's because, you lost your temper and scolded +Hilary.' It's a queer thing, but there have been hundreds of times since +when he needed scoldin' bad, and I've looked at the mountain and held my +tongue. It was just as if I saw her with that half-whimsical, half- +reproachful expression in her eyes, holding up her finger at me. And +there were other mornings when she'd say, 'The mountain's lonesome today, +he wants me.' And I vow, I'd look at the mountain and it would seem +lonesome. That sounds like nonsense, don't it?" Euphrasia demanded, with +a sudden sharpness. + +"No," said Victoria, "it seems very real to me." + +The simplicity, the very ring of truth, and above all the absolute lack +of self-consciousness in the girl's answer sustained the spell. + +"She'd go when the mountain called her, it didn't make any difference +whether it was raining--rain never appeared to do her any hurt. Nothin' +natural ever did her any hurt. When she was a little child flittin' +about like a wild creature, and she'd come in drenched to the skin, it +was all I could do to catch her and change her clothes. She'd laugh at +me. 'We're meant to be wet once in a while, Phrasie,' she'd say; 'that's +what the rain's for, to wet us. It washes some of the wickedness out of +us.' It was the unnatural things that hurt her--the unkind words and +makin' her act against her nature. 'Phrasie,' she said once, 'I can't +pray in the meeting-house with my eyes shut--I can't, I can't. I seem to +know what they're all wishing for when they pray,--for more riches, and +more comfort, and more security, and more importance. And God is such a +long way off. I can't feel Him, and the pew hurts my back.' She used to +read me some, out of a book of poetry, and one verse I got by heart--I +guess her prayers were like that." + +"Do you--remember the verse?" asked Victoria. + +Euphrasia went to a little shelf in the corner of the kitchen and +produced a book, which, she opened and handed to Victoria. + +"There's the verse!" she said; "read it aloud. I guess you're better at +that than I am." + +And Victoria read:-- + + "Higher still and higher + From the earth thou springest + Like a cloud of fire; + The blue deep thou wingest, + And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest." + +Victoria let fall the volume on her lap. + +"There's another verse in that book she liked," said Euphrasia, "but it +always was sad to me." + +Victoria took the book, and read again:-- + + "Weary wind, who wanderest + Like the world's rejected guest, + Hast thou still some secret nest + On the tree or billow?" + +Euphrasia laid the volume tenderly on the shelf, and turned and faced +Victoria. + +"She was unhappy like that before she died," she exclaimed, and added, +with a fling of her head towards the front of the house, "he killed +her." + +"Oh, no!" cried Victoria, involuntarily rising to her feet. "Oh, no! +I'm sure he didn't mean to. He didn't understand her!" + +"He killed her," Euphrasia repeated. "Why didn't he understand her? She +was just as simple as a child, and just as trusting, and just as loving. +He made her unhappy, and now he's driven her son out of her house, and +made him unhappy. He's all of her I have left, and I won't see him +unhappy." + +Victoria summoned her courage. + +"Don't you think," she asked bravely, "that Mr. Austen Vane ought to be +told that his father is--in this condition?" + +"No," said Euphrasia, determinedly. "Hilary will have to send for him. +This time it'll be Austen's victory." + +"But hasn't he had--a victory?" Victoria persisted earnestly. "Isn't +this--victory enough?" + +"What do you mean?" Euphrasia cried sharply. + +"I mean," she answered, in a low voice, "I mean that Mr. Vane's son is +responsible for his condition to-day. Oh--not consciously so. But the +cause of this trouble is mental--can't you see it? The cause of this +trouble is remorse. Can't you see that it has eaten into his soul? Do +you wish a greater victory than this, or a sadder one? Hilary Vane will +not ask for his son--because he cannot. He has no more power to send +that message than a man shipwrecked on an island. He can only give +signals of distress--that some may heed. Would She have waited for such +a victory as you demand? And does Austen Vane desire it? Don't you +think that he would come to his father if he knew? And have you any +right to keep the news from him? Have you any right to decide what their +vengeance shall be?" + +Euphrasia had stood mute as she listened to these words which she had so +little expected, but her eyes flashed and her breath came quickly. Never +had she been so spoken to! Never had any living soul come between her +and her cherished object the breaking of the heart of Hilary Vane! Nor, +indeed, had that object ever been so plainly set forth as Victoria had +set it forth. And this woman who dared to do this had herself brought +unhappiness to Austen. Euphrasia had almost forgotten that, such had +been the strange harmony of their communion. + +"Have you the right to tell Austen?" she demanded. + +"Have I?" Victoria repeated. And then, as the full meaning of the +question came to her; the colour flooded into her face, and she would +have fled, if she could, bud Euphrasia's words came in a torrent. + +"You've made him unhappy, as well as Hilary. He loves you--but he +wouldn't speak of it to you. Oh, no, he didn't tell me who it was, but I +never rested till I found out. He never would have told me about it at +all, or anybody else, but that I guessed it. I saw he was unhappy, and I +calculated it wasn't Hilary alone made him so. One night he came in +here, and I knew all at once--somehow--there was a woman to blame, and I +asked him, and he couldn't lie to me. He said it wasn't anybody's fault +but his own--he wouldn't say any more than that, except that he hadn't +spoken to her. I always expected the time was coming when there would +be--a woman. And I never thought the woman lived that he'd love who +wouldn't love him. I can't see how any woman could help lovin' him. + +"And then I found out it was that railroad. It came between Sarah Austen +and her happiness, and now it's come between Austen and his. Perhaps you +don't love him!" cried Euphrasia. "Perhaps you're too rich and high and +mighty. Perhaps you're a-going to marry that fine young man who came +with you in the buggy. Since I heard who you was, I haven't had a happy +hour. Let me tell you there's no better blood in the land than the +Austen blood. I won't mention the Vanes. If you've led him on, if +you've deceived him, I hope you may be unhappy as Sarah Austen was--" + +"Don't!" pleaded Victoria; "don't! Please don't!" and she seized +Euphrasia by the arms, as though seeking by physical force to stop the +intolerable flow of words. "Oh, you don't know me; you can't understand +me if you say that. How can you be so cruel?" + +In another moment she had gone, leaving Euphrasia standing in the middle +of the floor, staring after her through the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE FOCUS OF WRATH + +Victoria, after leaving Euphrasia, made her way around the house towards +Mr. Rangely, who was waiting in the runabout, her one desire for the +moment being to escape. Before she had reached the sidewalk under the +trees, Dr. Tredway had interrupted her. + +"Miss Flint," he called out, "I wanted to say a word to you before you +went." + +"Yes," she said, stopping and turning to him. + +He paused a moment before speaking, as he looked into her face. + +"I don't wonder this has upset you a little," he said; "a reaction always +comes afterwards--even with the strongest of us." + +"I am all right," she replied, unconsciously repeating Hilary's words. +"How is Mr. Vane?" + +"You have done a splendid thing," said the doctor, gravely. And he +continued, after a moment: "It is Mr. Vane I wanted to speak to you +about. He is an intimate friend, I believe, of your father's, as well as +Mr. Flint's right-hand man in--in a business way in this State. Mr. Vane +himself will not listen to reason. I have told him plainly that if he +does not drop all business at once, the chances are ten to one that he +will forfeit his life very shortly. I understand that there is a--a +convention to be held at the capital the day after to-morrow, and that it +is Mr. Vane's firm intention to attend it. I take the liberty of +suggesting that you lay these facts before your father, as Mr. Flint +probably has more influence with Hilary Vane than any other man. +"However," he added, seeing Victoria hesitate, "if there is any reason +why you should not care to speak to Mr. Flint--" + +"Oh, no," said Victoria; "I'll speak to him, certainly. I was going to +ask you--have you thought of Mr. Austen Vane? He might be able to do +something." + +"Of course," said the doctor, after a moment, "it is an open secret that +Austen and his father have--have, in short, never agreed. They are not +now on speaking terms." + +"Don't you think," asked Victoria, summoning her courage, "that Austen +Vane ought to be told?" + +"Yes," the doctor repeated decidedly, "I am sure of it. Everybody who +knows Austen Vane as I do has the greatest admiration for him. You +probably remember him in that Meader case,--he isn't a man one would be +likely to forget,--and I know that this quarrel with his father isn't of +Austen's seeking." + +"Oughtn't he to be told--at once?" said Victoria. + +"Yes," said the doctor; "time is valuable, and we can't predict what +Hilary will do. At any rate, Austen ought to know--but the trouble is, +he's at Jenney's farm. I met him on the way out there just before your +friend the Englishman caught me. And unfortunately I have a case which I +cannot neglect. But I can send word to him." + +"I know where Jenney's farm is," said Victoria; "I'll drive home that +way." + +"Well," exclaimed Dr. Tredway, heartily, "that's good of you. Somebody +who knows Hilary's situation ought to see him, and I can think of no +better messenger than you." + +And he helped her into the runabout. + +Young Mr. Rangely being a gentleman, he refrained from asking Victoria +questions on the drive out of Ripton, and expressed the greatest +willingness to accompany her on this errand and to see her home +afterwards. He had been deeply impressed, but he felt instinctively that +after such a serious occurrence, this was not the time to continue to +give hints of his admiration. He had heard in England that many American +women whom he would be likely to meet socially were superficial and +pleasure-loving; and Arthur Rangely came of a family which had long been +cited as a vindication of a government by aristocracy,--a family which +had never shirked responsibilities. It is not too much to say that he +had pictured Victoria among his future tenantry; she had appealed to him +first as a woman, but the incident of the afternoon had revealed her to +him, as it were, under fire. + +They spoke quietly of places they both had visited, of people whom they +knew in common, until they came to the hills--the very threshold of +Paradise on that September evening. Those hills never failed to move +Victoria, and they were garnished this evening in no earthly colours,-- +rose-lighted on the billowy western pasture slopes and pearl in the deep +clefts of the streams, and the lordly form of Sawanec shrouded in indigo +against a flame of orange. And orange fainted, by the subtlest of colour +changes, to azure in which swam, so confidently, a silver evening star. + +In silence they drew up before Mr. Jenney's ancestral trees, and through +the deepening shadows beneath these the windows of the farm-house glowed +with welcoming light. At Victoria's bidding Mr. Rangely knocked to ask +for Austen Vane, and Austen himself answered the summons. He held a book +in his hand, and as Rangely spoke she saw Austen's look turn quickly to +her, and met it through the gathering gloom between them. In an instant +he was at her side, looking up questioningly into her face, and the +telltale blood leaped into hers. What must he think of her for coming +again? She could not speak of her errand too quickly. + +"Mr. Vane, I came to leave a message." + +"Yes?" he said, and glanced at the broad-shouldered, well-groomed figure +of Mr. Rangely, who was standing at a discreet distance. + +"Your father has had an attack of some kind,--please don't be alarmed, he +seems to be recovered now,--and I thought and Dr. Tredway thought you +ought to know about it. The doctor could not leave Ripton, and I offered +to come and tell you." + +"An attack?" he repeated. + +"Yes." Hilary and she related simply how she had found Hilary at +Fairview, and how she had driven him home. But, during the whole of her +recital, she could not rid herself of the apprehension that he was +thinking her interference unwarranted, her coming an indelicate +repetition of the other visit. As he stood there listening in the +gathering dusk, she could not tell from his face what he thought. His +expression, when serious, had a determined, combative, almost grim note +in it, which came from a habit he had of closing his jaw tightly; and his +eyes were like troubled skies through which there trembled an occasional +flash of light. + +Victoria had never felt his force so strongly as now, and never had he +seemed more distant; at times--she had thought--she had had glimpses of +his soul; to-night he was inscrutable, and never had she realized the +power (which she bad known he must possess) of making himself so. And to +her? Her pride forbade her recalling at that moment the confidences +which had passed between them and which now seemed to have been so +impossible. He was serious because he was listening to serious news--she +told herself. But it was more than this: he had shut himself up, he was +impenetrable. Shame seized her; yes, and anger; and shame again at the +remembrance of her talk with Euphrasia--and anger once more. Could he +think that she would make advances to tempt his honour, and risk his good +opinion and her own? + +Confidence is like a lute-string, giving forth sweet sounds in its +perfection; there are none so discordant as when it snaps. + +Victoria scarcely heard Austen's acknowledgments of her kindness, so +perfunctory did they seem, so unlike the man she had known; and her own +protestations that she had done nothing to merit his thanks were to her +quite as unreal. She introduced him to the Englishman. + +"Mr. Rangely has been good enough to come with me," she said. + +"I've never seen anybody act with more presence of mind than Miss Flint," +Rangely declared, as he shook Austen's hand. "She did just the right +thing, without wasting any time whatever." + +"I'm sure of it," said Austen, cordially enough. But to Victoria's +keener ear, other tones which she had heard at other times were lacking. +Nor could she, clever as she was, see the palpable reason standing before +her! + +"I say," said Rangely, as they drove away, "he strikes me as a remarkably +sound chap, Miss Flint. There is something unusual about him, something +clean cut." + +"I've heard other people say so," Victoria replied. For the first time +since she had known him, praise of Austen was painful to her. What was +this curious attraction that roused the interest of all who came in +contact with him? The doctor had it, Mr. Redbrook, Jabe Jenney,--even +Hamilton Tooting, she remembered. And he attracted women as well as men- +-it must be so. Certainly her own interest in him--a man beyond the +radius of her sphere--and their encounters had been strange enough! And +must she go on all her life hearing praises of him? Of one thing she was +sure--who was not?--that Austen Vane had a future. He was the type of +man which is inevitably impelled into places of trust. + +Manly men, as a rule, do not understand women. They humour them blindly, +seek to comfort them--if they weep--with caresses, laugh with them if +they have leisure, and respect their curious and unaccountable moods by +keeping out of the way. Such a husband was Arthur Rangely destined to +make; a man who had seen any number of women and understood none,--as +wondrous mechanisms. He had merely acquired the faculty of appraisal, +although this does not mean that he was incapable of falling in love. + +Mr. Rangely could not account for the sudden access of gayety in +Victoria's manner as they drove to Fairview through the darkness, nor did +he try. He took what the gods sent him, and was thankful. When he +reached Fairview he was asked to dinner, as he could not possibly get +back to the Inn in time. Mr. Flint had gone to Sumner with the +engineers, leaving orders to be met at the East Tunbridge station at ten; +and Mrs. Flint, still convalescent, had dined in her sitting room. +Victoria sat opposite her guest in the big dining room, and Mr. Rangely +pronounced the occasion decidedly jolly. He had, he proclaimed, with the +exception of Mr. Vane's deplorable accident, never spent a better day in +his life. + +Victoria wondered at her own spirits, which were feverish, as she +listened to transatlantic gossip about girls she had known who had +married Mr. Rangely's friends, and stories of Westminster and South +Africa, and certain experiences of Mr. Rangely's at other places than +Leith on the American continent, which he had grown sufficiently +confidential to relate. At times, lifting her eyes to him as he sat +smoking after dinner on the other side of the library fire, she almost +doubted his existence. He had come into her life at one o'clock that +day--it seemed an eternity since. And a subconscious voice, heard but +not heeded, told her that in the awakening from this curious dream he +would be associated in her memory with tragedy, just as a tune or a book +or a game of cards reminds one of painful periods of one's existence. +To-morrow the--episode would be a nightmare; to-night her one desire was +to prolong it. + +And poor Mr. Rangely little imagined the part he was playing--as little +as he deserved it. Reluctant to leave, propriety impelled him to ask for +a trap at ten, and it was half past before he finally made his exit from +the room with a promise to pay his respects soon--very soon. + +Victoria stood before the fire listening to the sound of the wheels +gradually growing fainter, and her mind refused to work. Hanover Street, +Mr. Jenney's farm-house, were unrealities too. Ten minutes later--if she +had marked the interval--came the sound of wheels again, this time +growing louder. Then she heard a voice in the hall, her father's voice. + +"Towers, who was that?" + +"A young gentleman, sir, who drove home with Miss Victoria. I didn't get +his name, sir." + +"Has Miss Victoria retired?" + +"She's in the library, sir. Here are some telegrams, Mr. Flint." + +Victoria heard her father tearing open the telegrams and walking towards +the library with slow steps as he read them. She did not stir from her +place before the fire. She saw him enter and, with a characteristic +movement which had become almost habitual of late, crush the telegrams in +front of him with both hands. + +"Well, Victoria?" he said. + +"Well, father?" + +It was characteristic of him, too, that he should momentarily drop the +conversation, unravel the ball of telegrams, read one, crush them once +more,--a process that seemed to give him relief. He glanced at his +daughter--she had not moved. Whatever Mr. Flint's original character may +have been in his long-forgotten youth on the wind-swept hill farm in +Truro, his methods of attack lacked directness now; perhaps a long +business and political experience were responsible for this trait. + +"Your mother didn't come down to dinner, I suppose." + +"No," said Victoria. + +Simpson tells me the young bull got loose and cut himself badly. He says +it's the fault of the Eben Fitch you got me to hire." + +"I don't believe it was Eben's fault--Simpson doesn't like him," Victoria +replied. + +"Simpson tells me Fitch drinks." + +"Let a man get a bad name," said Victoria, "and Simpson will take care +that he doesn't lose it." The unexpected necessity of defending one of +her proteges aroused her. "I've made it a point to see Eben every day +for the last three months, and he hasn't touched a drop. He's one of the +best workers we have on the place." + +"I've got too much on my mind to put up with that kind of thing," said +Mr. Flint, "and I won't be worried here on the place. I can get capable +men to tend cattle, at least. I have to put up with political rascals +who rob and deceive me as soon as my back is turned, I have to put up +with inefficiency and senility, but I won't have it at home." + +"Fitch will be transferred to the gardener if you think best," she said. + +It suddenly occurred to Victoria, in the light of a new discovery, that +in the past her father's irritability had not extended to her. And this +discovery, she knew, ought to have some significance, but she felt +unaccountably indifferent to it. Mr. Flint walked to a window at the far +end of the room and flung apart the tightly closed curtains before it. + +"I never can get used to this new-fangled way of shutting everything up +tight," he declared. "When I lived in Centre Street, I used to read with +the curtains up every night, and nobody ever shot me." He stood looking +out at the starlight for awhile, and turned and faced her again. + +"I haven't seen much of you this summer, Victoria," he remarked. + +"I'm sorry, father. You know I always like to walk with you every day +you are here." He had aroused her sufficiently to have a distinct sense +that this was not the time to refer to the warning she had given him that +he was working too hard. But he was evidently bent on putting this +construction on her answer. + +"Several times I have asked for you, and you have been away," he said. + +"If you had only let me know, I should have made it a point to be at +home." + +"How can I tell when these idiots will give me any rest?" he asked. He +crushed the telegrams again, and came down the room and stopped in front +of her. "Perhaps there has been a particular reason why you have not +been at home as much as usual." + +"A particular reason?" she repeated, in genuine surprise. + +"Yes," he said; "I have been hearing things which, to put it mildly, have +astonished me." + +"Hearing things?" + +"Yes," he exclaimed. "I may be busy, I may be harassed by tricksters and +bunglers, but I am not too busy not to care something about my daughter's +doings. I expect them to deceive me, Victoria, but I pinned my faith +somewhere. I pinned it on you. On you, do you understand?" + +She raised her head for the first time and looked at him, with her lips +quivering. But she did not speak. + +"Ever since you were a child you have been everything to me, all I had to +fly to. I was always sure of one genuine, disinterested love--and that +was yours. I was always sure of hearing the truth from your lips." + +"Father!" she cried. + +He seemed not to hear the agonized appeal in her voice. Although he +spoke in his usual tones, Augustus Flint was, in fact, beside himself. + +"And now," he said, "and now I learn that you have been holding +clandestine meetings with a man who is my enemy, with a man who has done +me more harm than any other single individual, with a man whom I will not +have in my house--do you understand? I can only say that before to- +night, I gave him credit for having the decency not to enter it, not to +sit down at my table." + +Victoria turned away from him, and seized the high oak shelf of the +mantel with both hands. He saw her shoulders rising and falling as her +breath came deeply, spasmodically--like sobbing. But she was not sobbing +as she turned again and looked into his face. Fear was in her eye, and +the high courage to look: fear and courage. She seemed to be looking at +another man, at a man who was not her father. And Mr. Flint, despite his +anger, vaguely interpreting her meaning, was taken aback. He had never +seen anybody with such a look. And the unexpected quiet quality of her +voice intensified his strange sensation. + +"A Mr. Rangely, an Englishman, who is staying at the Leith Inn, was here +to dinner to-night. He has never been here before." + +"Austen Vane wasn't here to-night?" + +"Mr. Vane has never been in this house to my knowledge but once, and you +knew more about that meeting than I do." + +And still Victoria spoke quietly, inexplicably so to Mr. Flint--and to +herself. It seemed to her that some other than she were answering with +her voice, and that she alone felt. It was all a part of the nightmare, +all unreal, and this was not her father; nevertheless, she suffered now, +not from anger alone, nor sorrow, nor shame for him and for herself, nor +disgust, nor a sense of injustice, nor cruelty--but all of these played +upon a heart responsive to each with a different pain. + +And Mr. Flint, halted for the moment by her look and manner, yet goaded +on by a fiend of provocation which had for months been gathering +strength, and which now mastered him completely, persisted. He knew not +what he did or said. + +"And you haven't seen him to-day, I suppose," he cried. + +"Yes, I have seen him to-day." + +"Ah, you have! I thought as much. Where did you meet him to-day?" + +Victoria turned half away from him, raised a hand to the mantel-shelf +again, and lifted a foot to the low brass fender as she looked down into +the fire. The movement was not part of a desire to evade him, as he +fancied in his anger, but rather one of profound indifference, of +profound weariness--the sunless deeps of sorrow. And he thought her +capable of deceiving him! He had been her constant companion from +childhood, and knew only the visible semblance of her face, her form, her +smile. Her sex was the sex of subterfuge. + +"I went to the place where he is living, and asked for him," she said, +"and he came out and spoke to me." + +"You?" he repeated incredulously. There was surely no subterfuge in her +tone, but an unreal, unbelievable note which his senses seized, and to +which he clung. "You! My daughter!" + +"Yes," she answered, "I, your daughter. I suppose you think I am +shameless. It is true--I am." + +Mr. Flint was utterly baffled. He was at sea. He had got beyond the +range of his experience; defence, denial, tears, he could have understood +and coped with. He crushed the telegrams into a tighter ball, sought for +a footing, and found a precarious one. + +"And all this has been going on without my knowledge, when you knew my +sentiments towards the man?" + +"Yes," she said. "I do not know what you include in that remark, but I +have seen him many times as many times, perhaps, as you have heard +about." + +He wheeled, and walked over to a cabinet between two of the great windows +and stood there examining a collection of fans which his wife had bought +at a famous sale in Paris. Had he suddenly been asked the question, he +could not have said whether they were fans or beetles. And it occurred +to Victoria, as her eyes rested on his back, that she ought to be sorry +for him--but wasn't, somehow. Perhaps she would be to-morrow. Mr. Flint +looked at the fans, and an obscure glimmering of the truth came to him +that instead of administering a severe rebuke to the daughter he believed +he had known all his life, he was engaged in a contest with the soul of a +woman he had never known. And the more she confessed, the more she +apparently yielded, the more impotent he seemed, the tighter the demon +gripped him. Obstacles, embarrassments, disappointments, he had met +early in his life, and he had taken them as they came. There had +followed a long period when his word had been law. And now, as age came +on, and he was meeting with obstacles again, he had lost the magic gift +of sweeping them aside; the growing certainty that he was becoming +powerless haunted him night and day. Unbelievably strange, however, it +was that the rays of his anger by some subconscious process had hovered +from the first about the son of Hilary Vane, and were now, by the trend +of event after event, firmly focussed there. + +He left the cabinet abruptly and came back to Victoria. + +She was standing in the same position. + +"You have spared me something," he said. "He has apparently undermined +me with my own daughter. He has evidently given you an opinion of me +which is his. I think I can understand why you have not spoken of these +--meetings." + +"It is an inference that I expected," said Victoria. Then she lifted her +head and looked at him, and again he could not read her expression, for a +light burned in her eyes that made them impenetrable to him,--a light +that seemed pitilessly to search out and reveal the dark places and the +weak places within him which he himself had not known were there. Could +there be another standard by which men and women were measured and +judged? + +Mr. Flint snapped his fingers, and turned and began to pace the room. + +"It's all pretty clear," he said; "there's no use going into it any +farther. You believe, with the rest of them, that I'm a criminal and +deserve the penitentiary. I don't care a straw about the others," he +cried, snapping his fingers again. "And I suppose, if I'd had any sense, +I might have expected it from you, too, Victoria--though you are my +daughter." + +He was aware that her eyes followed him. + +"How many times have you spoken with Austen Vane?" she asked. + +"Once," he exclaimed; "that was enough. Once." + +"And he gave you the impression," she continued slowly, "that he was +deceitful, and dishonourable, and a coward? a man who would say things +behind your back that he dared not say to your face? who desired reward +for himself at any price, and in any manner? a man who would enter your +house and seek out your daughter and secretly assail your character?" + +Mr. Flint stopped in the middle of the floor. + +"And you tell me he has not done these things?" + +"Suppose I did tell you so," said Victoria, "would you believe me? I +have no reason to think that you would. I am your daughter, I have been +your most intimate companion, and I had the right to think that you +should have formed some estimate of my character. Suppose I told you +that Austen Vane has avoided me, that he would not utter a word against +you or in favour of himself? "Suppose I told you that I, your daughter, +thought there might be two sides to the political question that is +agitating you, and wished in fairness to hear the other side, +as I intended to tell you when you were less busy? Suppose I told you +that Austen Vane was the soul of honour, that he saw your side and +presented it as ably as you have presented it? that he had refrained in +many matters which might have been of advantage to him--although I did +not hear of them from him--on account of his father? Would you believe +me?" + +"And suppose I told you," cried Mr. Flint--so firmly fastened on him was +the long habit of years of talking another down, "suppose I told you that +this was the most astute and the craftiest course he could take? I've +always credited him with brains. Suppose I told you that he was +intriguing now, as he has been all along, to obtain the nomination for +the governorship? Would you believe me?" + +"No," answered Victoria, quietly. + +Mr. Flint went to the lamp, unrolled the ball of telegrams, seized one +and crossed the room quickly, and held it out to her. His hand shook a +little. + +"Read that!" he said. + +She read it: "Estimate that more than half of delegates from this section +pledged to Henderson will go to Austen Vane when signal is given in +convention. Am told on credible authority same is true of other +sections, including many of Hunt's men and Crewe's. This is the result +of quiet but persistent political work I spoke about. BILLINGS." + +She handed the telegram back to her father in silence. "Do you believe it +now?" he demanded exultantly. + +"Who is the man whose name is signed to that message?" she asked. + +Mr. Flint eyed her narrowly. + +"What difference does that make?" he demanded. + +"None," said Victoria. But a vision of Mr. Billings rose before her. +He had been pointed out to her as the man who had opposed Austen in the +Meader suit. If the bishop of the diocese signed it, I would not +believe that Austen Vane had anything to do with the matter." + +"Ah, you defend him!" cried Mr. Flint. "I thought so--I thought so. +I take off my hat to him, he is a cleverer man even than I. His own +father, whom he has ruined, comes up here and defends him." + +"Does Hilary Vane defend him?" Victoria asked curiously. + +"Yes," said Mr. Flint, beside himself; "incredible as it may seem, he +does. I have Austen Vane to thank for still another favour--he is +responsible for Hilary's condition to-day. He has broken him down--he +has made him an imbecile. The convention is scarcely thirty-six hours +off, and Hilary is about as fit to handle it as--as Eben Fitch. Hilary, +who never failed me in his life!" + +Victoria did not speak for a moment, and then she reached out her hand +quickly and laid it on his that still held the telegram. A lounge stood +on one side of the fireplace, and she drew him gently to it, and he sat +down at her side. His acquiescence to her was a second nature, and he +was once more bewildered. His anger now seemed to have had no effect +upon her whatever. + +"I waited up to tell you about Hilary Vane, father," she said gently. +"He has had a stroke, which I am afraid is serious." + +"A stroke!" cried Mr. Flint, "Why didn't you tell me? How do you know?" + +Victoria related how she had found Hilary coming away from Fairview, and +what she had done, and the word Dr. Tredway had sent. + +"Good God!" cried Mr. Flint, "he won't be able to go to the convention!" +And he rose and pressed the electric button. "Towers," he said, when the +butler appeared, "is Mr. Freeman still in my room? Tell him to telephone +to Ripton at once and find out how Mr. Hilary Vane is. They'll have to +send a messenger. That accounts for it," he went on, rather to himself +than to Victoria, and he began to pace the room once more; "he looked +like a sick man when he was here. And who have we got to put in his +place? Not a soul!" + +He paced awhile in silence. He appeared to have forgotten Victoria. + +"Poor Hilary!" he said again, "poor Hilary! I'll go down there the first +thing in the morning." + +Another silence, and then Mr. Freeman, the secretary, entered. + +"I telephoned to Dr. Tredway's, Mr. Flint. I thought that would be +quickest. Mr. Vane has left home. They don't know where he's gone." + +"Left home! It's impossible!" and he glanced at Victoria, who had risen +to her feet. "There must be some mistake." + +"No, sir. First I got the doctor, who said that Mr. Vane was gone--at +the risk of his life. And then I talked to Mr. Austen Vane himself, who +was there consulting with the doctor. It appears that Mr. Hilary Vane +had left home by eight o'clock, when Mr. Austen Vane got there." + +"Hilary's gone out of his head," exclaimed Mr. Flint. "This thing has +unhinged him. Here, take these telegrams. No, wait a minute, I'll go +out there. Call up Billings, and see if you can get Senator Whitredge." + +He started out of the room, halted, and turned his head and hesitated. + +"Father," said Victoria, "I don't think Hilary Vane is out of his mind." + +"You don't?" he said quickly. "Why?" + +By some unaccountable change in the atmosphere, of which Mr. Flint was +unconscious, his normal relation to his daughter had been suddenly +reestablished. He was giving ear, as usual, to her judgment. + +"Did Hilary Vane tell you he would go to the convention?" she asked. + +"Yes." In spite of himself, he had given the word an apologetic +inflection. + +"Then he has gone already," she said. "I think, if you will telephone a +little later to the State capital, you will find that he is in his room +at the Pelican Hotel." + +"By thunder, Victoria!" he ejaculated, "you may be right. It would be +like him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE ARENA AND THE DUST + +Alas! that the great genius who described the battle of Waterloo is not +alive to-day and on this side of the Atlantic, for a subject worthy of +his pen is at hand,--nothing less than that convention of conventions at +which the Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith is one of the candidates. +One of the candidates, indeed! Will it not be known, as long as there +are pensions, and a governor and a state-house and a seal and State +sovereignty and a staff, as the Crewe Convention? How charge after +charge was made during the long, hot day and into the night; how the +delegates were carried out limp and speechless and starved and wet +through, and carried in to vote again,--will all be told in time. But +let us begin at the beginning, which is the day before. + +But look! it is afternoon, and the candidates are arriving at the +Pelican. The Honourable Adam B. Hunt is the first, and walks up the hill +from the station escorted by such prominent figures as the Honourables +Brush Bascom and Jacob Botcher, and surrounded by enthusiastic supporters +who wear buttons with the image of their +leader--goatee and all--and the singularly prophetic superscription, 'To +the Last Ditch!' Only veterans and experts like Mr. Bascom and Mr. +Botcher can recognize the last ditch when they see it. + +Another stir in the street--occasioned by the appearance of the +Honourable Giles Henderson,--of the blameless life. Utter a syllable +against him if you can! These words should be inscribed on his buttons +if he had any--but he has none. They seem to be, unuttered, on the +tongues of the gentlemen who escort the Honourable Giles, United States +Senator Greene and the Honourable Elisha Jane, who has obtained leave of +absence from his consular post to attend the convention,--and +incidentally to help prepare for it. + +But who and what is this? The warlike blast of a siren horn is heard, +the crowd in the lobby rushes to the doors, people up-stairs fly to the +windows, and the Honourable Adam B. Hunt leans out and nearly falls out, +but is rescued by Division Superintendent Manning of the Northeastern +Railroads, who has stepped in from Number Seven to give a little private +tug of a persuasive nature to the Honourable Adam's coat-tails. A red +Leviathan comes screaming down Main Street with a white trail of dust +behind it, smothering the occupants of vehicles which have barely +succeeded in getting out of the way, and makes a spectacular finish +before the Pelican by sliding the last fifty feet on locked rear wheels. + +A group in the street raises a cheer. It is the People's Champion! Dust +coat, gauntlets, goggles, cannot hide him; and if they did, some one +would recognize that voice, familiar now and endeared to many, and so +suited to command:-- + +"Get that baggage off, and don't waste any time! Jump out, Watling--that +handle turns the other way. Well, Tooting, are the headquarters ready? +What was the matter that I couldn't get you on the telephone?" (To the +crowd.) "Don't push in and scratch the paint. He's going to back out in +a minute, and somebody'll get hurt." + +Mr. Hamilton Tooting (Colonel Hamilton Tooting that is to be--it being an +open secret that he is destined for the staff) is standing hatless on the +sidewalk ready to receive the great man. The crowd in the rotunda makes +a lane, and Mr. Crewe, glancing neither to the right nor left, walks +upstairs; and scarce is he installed in the bridal suite, surrounded by +his faithful workers for reform, than that amazing reception begins. Mr. +Hamilton Tooting, looking the very soul of hospitality, stands by the +doorway with an open box of cigars in his left hand, pressing them upon +the visitors with his right. Reform, contrary to the +preconceived opinion of many, is not made of icicles, nor answers with a +stone a request for bread. As the hours run on, the visitors grow more +and more numerous, and after supper the room is packed to suffocation, +and a long line is waiting in the corridor, marshalled and kept in good +humour by able lieutenants; while Mr. Crewe is dimly to be perceived +through clouds of incense burning in his honour--and incidentally at his +expense--with a welcoming smile and an appropriate word for each caller, +whose waistcoat pockets, when they emerge, resemble cartridge-belts of +cigars. + +More cigars were hastily sent for, and more. There are to be but a +thousand delegates to the convention, and at least two thousand men have +already passed through the room--and those who don't smoke have friends. +It is well that Mr. Crewe has stuck to his conservative habit of not +squeezing hands too hard. + +"Isn't that Mr. Putter, who keeps a livery-stable here?" inquired Mr. +Crewe, about nine o'clock--our candidate having a piercing eye of his +own. Mr. Putter's coat, being brushed back, has revealed six cigars. + +"Why, yes--yes," says Mr. Watling. + +"Is he a delegate?" Mr. Crewe demanded. + +"Why, I guess he must be," says Mr. Watling. + +But Mr. Putter is not a delegate. + +"You've stood up and made a grand fight, Mr. Crewe," says another +gentleman, a little later, with a bland, smooth shaven face and strong +teeth to clinch Mr. Crewe's cigars. "I wish I was fixed so as I could +vote for you." + +Mr. Crewe looks at him narrowly. + +"You look very much like a travelling man from New York, who tried to +sell me farm machinery," he answers. + +"Where are you from?" + +"You ain't exactly what they call a tyro, are you?" says the bland-faced +man; "but I guess you've missed the mark this shot. Well, so long." + +"Hold on!" says Mr. Crewe, "Watling will talk to you." + +And, as the gentleman follows Mr. Wailing through the press, a pamphlet +drops from his pocket to the floor. It is marked 'Catalogue of the +Raines Farm Implement Company.' Mr. Watling picks it up and hands it to +the gentleman, who winks again. + +"Tim," he says, "where can we sit down? How much are you getting out of +this? Brush and Jake Botcher are bidding high down-stairs, and the +quotation on delegates has gone up ten points in ten minutes. It's +mighty good of you to remember old friends, Tim, even if they're not +delegates." + +Meanwhile Mr. Crewe is graciously receiving others who are crowding to +him. + +"How are you, Mr. Giddings? How are the cows? I carry some stock +that'll make you sit up--I believe I told you when I was down your way. +Of course, mine cost a little money, but that's one of my hobbies. Come +and see 'em some day. There's a good hotel in Ripton, and I'll have you +met there and drive you back." + +Thus, with a genial and kindly remark to each, he passes from one to the +other, and when the members of the press come to him for his estimate of +the outcome on the morrow, he treats them with the same courtly +consideration. + +"Estimate!" cries Mr. Crewe. "Where have your eyes been to-night, my +friends? Have you seen the people coming into these headquarters? Have +you seen 'em pouring into any other headquarters? All the State and +federal office-holders in the country couldn't stop me now. Estimate! +I'll be nominated on the first ballot." + +They wrote it down. + +"Thank you, Mr. Crewe," they said; "that's the kind of talk we like to +hear." + +"And don't forget," said Mr. Crewe, "to mention this reception in the +accounts." + +Mr. Tooting, who makes it a point from time to time to reconnoitre, +saunters halfway down-stairs and surveys the crowded rotunda from the +landing. Through the blue medium produced by the burning of many cigars +(mostly Mr. Crewe's) he takes note of the burly form of Mr. Thomas +Gaylord beside that of Mr. Redbrook and other rural figures; he takes +note of a quiet corner with a ring of chairs surrounded by scouts and +outposts, although it requires a trained eye such as Mr. Tooting's to +recognize them as such--for they wear no uniforms. They are, in truth, +minor captains of the feudal system, and their present duties consist (as +Mr. Tooting sees clearly) in preventing the innocent and inquisitive from +unprofitable speech with the Honourable Jacob Botcher, who sits in the +inner angle conversing cordially with those who are singled out for this +honour. Still other scouts conduct some of the gentlemen who have talked +with Mr. Botcher up the stairs to a mysterious room on the second floor. +Mr. Tooting discovers that the room is occupied by the Honourable Brush +Bascom; Mr. Tooting learns with indignation that certain of these guests +of Mr. Bascom's are delegates pledged to Mr. Crewe, whereupon he rushes +back to the bridal suite to report to his chief. The cigars are giving +out again, and the rush has slackened, and he detaches the People's +Champion from the line and draws him to the inner room. + +Brush Bascom's conducting a bourse on the second floor and is running the +price up right along," cried the honest and indignant Mr. Tooting. He's +stringin' Adam Hunt all right. They say he's got Adam to cough up six +thousand extra since five o'clock, but the question is--ain't he +stringin' us? He paid six hundred for a block of ten not quarter of an +hour ago--and nine of 'em were our delegates." + +It must be remembered that these are Mr. Tooting's words, and Mr. Crewe +evidently treated them as the product of that gentleman's vivid +imagination. Translated, they meant that the Honourable Adam B. Hunt has +no chance for the nomination, but that the crafty Messrs. Botcher and +Bascom are inducing him to think that he has--by making a supreme effort. +The supreme effort is represented by six thousand dollars. + +"Are you going to lie down under that?" Mr. Tooting demanded, forgetting +himself in his zeal for reform and Mr. Crewe. But Mr. Tooting, in some +alarm, perceived the eye of his chief growing virtuous and glassy. + +"I guess I know when I'm strung, as you call it, Mr. Tooting," he replied +severely. "This cigar bill alone is enough to support a large family for +several months." + +And with this merited reproof he turned on his heel and went back to his +admirers without, leaving Mr. Tooting aghast, but still resourceful. Ten +minutes later that gentleman was engaged in a private conversation with +his colleague, the Honourable Timothy Wading. + +"He's up on his hind legs at last," said Mr. Tooting; "it looks as if he +was catching on." + +Mr. Wading evidently grasped these mysterious words, for he looked grave. + +"He thinks he's got the nomination cinched, don't he?" + +"That's the worst of it," cried Mr. Tooting. + +"I'll see what I can do," said the Honourable Tim. "He's always talking +about thorough, let him do it thorough." And Mr. Watling winked. + +"Thorough," repeated Mr. Tooting, delightedly. + +"That's it--Colonel," said Mr. Watling. "Have you ordered your uniform +yet, Ham?" + +Mr. Tooting plainly appreciated this joke, for he grinned. + +"I guess you won't starve if you don't get that commissionership, Tim," +he retorted. + +"And I guess," returned Mr. Watling, "that you won't go naked if you +don't have a uniform." + +Victoria's surmise was true. At ten o'clock at night, two days before +the convention, a tall figure had appeared in the empty rotunda of the +Pelican, startling the clerk out of a doze. He rubbed his eyes and +stared, recognized Hilary Vane, and yet failed to recognize him. It was +an extraordinary occasion indeed which would cause Mr. McAvoy to lose his +aplomb; to neglect to seize the pen and dip it, with a flourish, into the +ink, and extend its handle towards the important guest; to omit a few +fitting words of welcome. It was Hilary who got the pen first, and wrote +his name in silence, and by this time Mr. McAvoy had recovered his +presence of mind sufficiently to wield the blotter. + +"We didn't expect you to-night, Mr. Vane," he said, in a voice that +sounded strange to him, "but we've kept Number Seven, as usual. Front!" + +"The old man's seen his day, I guess," Mr. McAvoy remarked, as he studied +the register with a lone reporter. "This Crewe must have got in on 'em +hard, from what they tell me, and Adam Hunt has his dander up." + +The next morning at ten o'clock, while the workmen were still tacking +down the fireproof carpets in headquarters upstairs, and before even the +advance guard of the armies had begun to arrive, the eye of the clerk was +caught by a tall young man rapidly approaching the desk. + +"Is Mr. Hilary Vane here?" + +"He's in Number Seven," said Mr. McAvoy, who was cudgelling his brains. +"Give me your card, and I'll send it up." + +"I'll go up," said the caller, turning on his heel and suiting the action +to the word, leaving Mr. McAvoy to make active but futile inquiries among +the few travelling men and reporters seated about. + +"Well, if you fellers don't know him, I give up," said the clerk, +irritably, "but he looks as if he ought to be somebody. He knows his +business, anyway." + +In the meantime Mr. Vane's caller had reached the first floor; he +hesitated just a moment before knocking at the door of Number Seven, and +the Honourable Hilary's voice responded. The door opened. + +Hilary was seated, as usual, beside the marble-topped table, which was +covered with newspapers and memoranda. In the room were Mr. Ridout, the +capital lawyer, and Mr. Manning, the division superintendent. There was +an instant of surprised silence on the part of the three, but the +Honourable Hilary was the only one who remained expressionless. + +"If you don't mind, gentlemen," said the visitor, "I should like to talk +to my father for a few minutes." + +"Why, certainly, Austen," Mr. Ridout replied, with an attempt at +heartiness. Further words seemed to fail him, and he left the room +somewhat awkwardly, followed by Mr. Manning; but the Honourable Hilary +appeared to take no notice of this proceeding. + +"Judge," said Austen, when the door had closed behind them, "I won't keep +you long. I didn't come down here to plead with you to abandon what you +believe to be your duty, because I know that would be useless. I have +had a talk with Dr. Tredway," he added gently, "and I realize that you +are risking your life. If I could take you back to Ripton I would, but I +know that I cannot. I see your point of view, and if I were in your +place I should do the same thing. I only wanted to tell you this--" +Austen's voice caught a little, "if--anything should happen, I shall be +at Mrs. Peasley's on Maple Street, opposite the Duncan house." He laid +his hand for an instant, in the old familiar way, on Hilary's shoulder, +and looked down into the older man's face. It may have been that +Hilary's lips trembled a little. "I--I'll see you later, Judge, when +it's all over. Good luck to you." + +He turned slowly, went to the door and opened it, gave one glance at the +motionless figure in the chair, and went out. He did not hear the voice +that called his name, for the door had shut. + +Mr. Ridout and Mr. Manning were talking together in low tones at the head +of the stairs. It was the lawyer who accosted Austen. + +"The old gentleman don't seem to be quite himself, Austen. Don't seem +well. You ought to hold him in he can't work as hard as he used to." + +"I think you'll find, Mr. Ridout," answered Austen, deliberately, "that +he'll perform what's required of him with his usual efficiency." + +Mr. Ridout followed Austen's figure with his eyes until he was hidden by +a turn of the stairs. Then he whistled. + +"I can't make that fellow out," he exclaimed. "Never could. All I know +is that if Hilary Vane pulls us through this mess, in the shape he's in, +it'll be a miracle. + +"His mind seems sound enough to-day--but he's lost his grip, I tell you. +I don't wonder Flint's beside himself. Here's Adam Hunt with both feet +in the trough, and no more chance of the nomination than I have, and +Bascom and Botcher teasing him on, and he's got enough votes with Crewe +to lock up that convention for a dark horse. And who's the dark horse?" + +Mr. Manning, who was a silent man, pointed with his thumb in the +direction Austen had taken. + +"Hilary Vane's own son," said Mr. Ridout, voicing the gesture; "they tell +me that Tom Gaylord's done some pretty slick work. Now I leave it to +you, Manning, if that isn't a mess!" + +At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the appearance on the +stairway of the impressive form of United States Senator Whitredge, +followed by a hall boy carrying the senatorial gripsack. The senator's +face wore a look of concern which could not possibly be misinterpreted. + +"How's Hilary?" were his first words. + +Mr. Ridout and Mr. Manning glanced at each other. + +"He's in Number Seven; you'd better take a look at him, Senator." + +The senator drew breath, directed that his grip be put in the room where +he was to repose that night, produced an amber cigar-holder from a case, +and a cigar from his waistcoat pocket. + +"I thought I'd better come down early," he said, "things aren't going +just as they should, and that's the truth. In fact," he added, +significantly tapping his pocket, "I've got a letter from Mr. Flint to +Hilary which I may have to use. You understand me." + +"I guessed as much," said Mr. Ridout. + +"Ahem! I saw young Vane going out of the hotel just now," the senator +remarked. "I am told, on pretty good authority, that under certain +circumstances, which I must confess seem not unlikely at present, he may +be a candidate for the nomination. The fact that he is in town tends to +make the circumstance more probable." + +"He's just been in to see Hilary," said Mr. Ridout. + +"You don't tell me!" said the senator, pausing as he lighted his cigar; +"I was under the impression that they were not on speaking terms." + +"They've evidently got together now, that--" said Mr. Ridout. "I wonder +how old Hilary would feel about it. We couldn't do much with Austen Vane +if he was governor--that's a sure thing." + +The senator pondered a moment. + +"It's been badly managed," he muttered; "there's no doubt of that. Hunt +must be got out of the way. When Bascom and Botcher come, tell them I +want to see them in my room, not in Number Seven." + +And with this impressive command, received with nods of understanding, +Senator Whitredge advanced slowly towards Number Seven, knocked, and +entered. Be it known that Mr. Flint, with characteristic caution, had +not confided even to the senator that the Honourable Hilary had had a +stroke. + +"Ah, Vane," he said, in his most affable tones, "how are you?" + +The Honourable Hilary, who was looking over some papers, shot at him a +glance from under his shaggy eyebrows. + +"Came in here to find out--didn't you, Whitredge?" he replied. + +"What?" said the senator, taken aback; and for once at a loss for words. + +The Honourable Hilary rose and stood straighter than usual, and looked +the senator in the eye. + +"What's your diagnosis?" he asked. "Superannuated--unfit for duty-- +unable to cope with the situation ready to be superseded? Is that about +it?" + +To say that Senator Whitredge was startled and uncomfortable would be to +put his case mildly. He had never before seen Mr. Vane in this mood. + +"Ha-ha!" he laughed; "the years are coming over us a little, aren't they? +But I guess it isn't quite time for the youngsters to step in yet." + +"No, Whitredge," said Mr. Vane, slowly, without taking his eye from the +senator's, "and it won't be until this convention is over. Do you +understand?" + +"That's the first good news I've heard this morning," said the senator, +with the uneasy feeling that, in some miraculous way, the Honourable +Hilary had read the superseding orders from highest authority through his +pocket. + +"You may take it as good news or bad news, as you please, but it's a +fact. And now I want 'YOU' to tell Ridout that I wish to see him again, +and to bring in Doby, who is to be chairman of the convention." + +"Certainly," assented the senator, with alacrity, as he started for the +door. Then he turned. "I'm glad to see you're all right, Vane," he +added; "I'd heard that you were a little under the weather--a bilious +attack on account of the heat--that's all I meant." He did not wait for +an answer, nor would he have got one. And he found Mr. Ridout in the +hall. + +"Well?" said the lawyer, expectantly, and looking with some curiosity at +the senator's face. + +"Well," said Mr. Whitredge, with marked impatience, "he wants to see you +right away." + +All day long Hilary Vane held conference in Number Seven, and at six +o'clock sent a request that the Honourable Adam visit him. The +Honourable Adam would not come; and the fact leaked out--through the +Honourable Adam. + +"He's mad clean through," reported the Honourable Elisha Jane, to whose +tact and diplomacy the mission had been confided. "He said he would +teach Flint a lesson. He'd show him he couldn't throw away a man as +useful and efficient as he'd been, like a sucked orange." + +"Humph! A sucked orange. That's what he said, is it? A sucked orange," +Hilary repeated. + +"That's what he said," declared Mr. Jane, and remembered afterwards how +Hilary had been struck by the simile. + +At ten o'clock at night, at the very height of the tumult, Senator +Whitredge had received an interrogatory telegram from Fairview, and had +called a private conference (in which Hilary was not included) in a back +room on the second floor (where the conflicting bands of Mr. Crewe and +Mr. Hunt could not be heard), which Mr. Manning and Mr. Jane and State +Senator Billings and Mr. Ridout attended. Query: the Honourable Hilary +had quarrelled with Mr. Flint, that was an open secret; did not Mr. Vane +think himself justified, from his own point of view, in taking a singular +revenge in not over-exerting himself to pull the Honourable Adam out, +thereby leaving the field open for his son, Austen Vane, with whom he was +apparently reconciled? Not that Mr. Flint had hinted of such a thing! +He had, in the telegram, merely urged the senator himself to see Mr. +Hunt, and to make one more attempt to restrain the loyalty to that +candidate of Messrs. Bascom and Botcher. + +The senator made the attempt, and failed signally. + +It was half-past midnight by the shining face of the clock on the tower +of the state-house, and hope flamed high in the bosom of the Honourable +Adam B. Hunt a tribute to the bellows-like skill of Messrs. Bascom and +Botcher. The bands in the street had blown themselves out, the delegates +were at last seeking rest, the hall boys in the corridors were turning +down the lights, and the Honourable Adam, in a complacent and even +jubilant frame of mind, had put on his carpet slippers and taken off his +coat, when there came a knock at his door. He was not a little amazed +and embarrassed, upon opening it, to see the Honourable Hilary. But +these feelings gave place almost immediately to a sense of triumph; gone +were the days when he had to report to Number Seven. Number Seven, in +the person of Hilary (who was Number Seven), had been forced to come to +him! + +"Well, upon my soul!" he exclaimed heartily. "Come in, Hilary." + +He turned up the jets of the chandelier, and gazed at his friend, and was +silent. + +"Have a seat, Hilary," he said, pushing up an armchair. + +Mr. Vane sat down. Mr. Hunt took a seat opposite, and waited for his +visitor to speak. He himself seemed to find no words. + +"Adam," said Mr. Vane, at length, "we've known each other for a good many +years." + +"That's so, Hilary. That's so," Mr. Hunt eagerly assented. What was +coming? + +"And whatever harm I've done in my life," Hilary continued, "I've always +tried to keep my word. I told you, when we met up there by the mill this +summer, that if Mr. Flint had consulted me about your candidacy, before +seeing you in New York, I shouldn't have advised it--this time." + +The Honourable Adam's face stiffened. + +"That's what you said. But--" + +"And I meant it," Mr. Vane interrupted. "I was never pledged to your +candidacy, as a citizen. I've been thinking over my situation some, this +summer, and I'll tell you in so many plain words what it is. I guess you +know--I guess everybody knows who's thought about it. I deceived myself +for a long time by believing that I earned my living as the attorney for +the Northeastern Railroads. I've drawn up some pretty good papers for +them, and I've won some pretty difficult suits. I'm not proud of 'em +all, but let that go. Do you know what I am?" + +The Honourable Adam was capable only of a startled ejaculation. Was +Hilary Vane in his right senses? + +"I'm merely their paid political tool," Mr. Vane continued, in the same +tone. "I've sold them my brain, and my right of opinion as a citizen. I +wanted to make this clear to you first of all. Not that you didn't know +it, but I wished you to know that I know it. When Mr. Flint said that +you were to be the Republican nominee, my business was to work to get you +elected, which I did. And when it became apparent that you couldn't be +nominated--" + +"Hold on!" cried the Honourable Adam. + +"Please wait until I have finished. When it became apparent that you +couldn't be nominated, Mr. Flint sent me to try to get you to withdraw, +and he decreed that the new candidate should pay your expenses up to +date. I failed in that mission." + +"I don't blame you, Hilary," exclaimed Mr. Hunt. "I told you so at the +time. But I guess I'll soon be in a position where I can make Flint walk +the tracks--his own tracks." + +"Adam," said Mr. Vane, "it is because I deserve as much of the blame as +Mr. Flint that I am here." + +Again Mr. Hunt was speechless. The Honourable Hilary Vane in an +apologetic mood! A surmise flashed into the brain of the Honourable +Adam, and sparkled there. The Honourable Giles Henderson was prepared to +withdraw, and Hilary had come, by authority, to see if he would pay the +Honourable Giles' campaign expenses. Well, he could snap his fingers at +that. + +"Flint has treated me like a dog," he declared. + +"Mr. Flint never pretended," answered Mr. Vane, coldly, "that the +nomination and election of a governor was anything but a business +transaction. His regard for you is probably unchanged, but the interests +he has at stake are too large to admit of sentiment as a factor." + +"Exactly," exclaimed Mr. Hunt. "And I hear he hasn't treated you just +right, Hilary. I understand--" + +Hilary's eyes flashed for the first time. + +"Never mind that, Adam," he said quietly; "I've been treated as I +deserve. I have nothing whatever to complain of from Mr. Flint. I will +tell you why I came here to-night. I haven't felt right about you since +that interview, and the situation to-night is practically what it was +then. You can't be nominated." + +"Can't be nominated !" gasped Mr: Hunt. And he reached to the table for +his figures. "I'll have four hundred on the first ballot, and I've got +two hundred and fifty more pledged to me as second choice. If you've +come up here at this time of night to try to deceive me on that, you +might as well go back and wire Flint it's no use. Why, I can name the +delegates, if you'll listen." + +Mr. Vane shook his head sadly. And, confident as he was, the movement +sent a cold chill down the Honourable Adam's spine, for faith in Mr. +Vane's judgment had become almost a second nature. He had to force +himself to remember that this was not the old Hilary. + +"You won't have three hundred, Adam, at any time," answered Mr. Vane. +"Once you used to believe what I said, and if you won't now, you won't. +But I can't go away without telling you what I came for." + +"What's that?" demanded Mr. Hunt, wonderingly. + +"It's this," replied Hilary, with more force than he had yet shown. "You +can't get that nomination. If you'll let me know what your campaign +expenses have been up to date,--all of 'em, you understand, to-night +too,--I'll give you a check for them within the next two weeks." + +"Who makes this offer?" demanded Mr. Hunt, with more curiosity than +alarm; "Mr. Flint?" + +"No," said Hilary; "Mr. Flint does not use the road's funds for such +purposes." + +"Henderson?" + +"No," said Hilary; "I can't see what difference it makes to you." + +The Honourable Adam had an eminently human side, and he laid his hand on +Mr. Vane's knee. + +"I think I've got a notion as to where that money would come from, +Hilary," he said. "I'm much obliged to you, my friend. I wouldn't take +it even if I thought you'd sized up the situation right. But--I don't +agree with you this time. I know I've got the nomination. And I want to +say once more, that I think you're a square man, and I don't hold +anything against you." + +Mr. Vane rose. + +"I'm sorry, Adam," he said; my offer holds good after to-morrow." + +"After to-morrow!" + +"Yes," said the Honourable Hilary. "I don't feel right about this thing. +Er--good night, Adam." + +"Hold on!" cried Mr. Hunt, as a new phase of the matter struck him. +"Why, if I got out--" + +"What then?" said Mr. Vane, turning around. + +"Oh, I won't get out," said Mr. Hunt, "but if I did,--why, there +wouldn't, according to your way of thinking, be any chance for a dark +horse." + +"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Vane. + +"Now don't get mad, Hilary. I guess, and you know, that Flint hasn't +treated you decently this summer after all you've done for him, and I +admire the way you're standing by him. I wouldn't do it. I just wanted +to say," Mr. Hunt added slowly, "that I respect you all the more for +trying to get me out. If--always according to your notion of the +convention--if I don't get out, and haven't any chance, they tell me on +pretty good authority Austen Vane will get the nomination." + +Hilary Vane walked to the door, opened it and went out, and slammed it +behind him. + +It is morning,--a hot morning, as so many recall,--and the partisans of +the three leaders are early astir, and at seven-thirty Mr. Tooting +discovers something going on briskly which he terms "dealing in futures." +My vote is yours as long as you are in the race, but after that I have +something negotiable. The Honourable Adam Hunt strolls into the rotunda +after an early breakfast, with a toothpick in his mouth, and is pointed +out by the sophisticated to new arrivals as the man who spent seven +thousand dollars over night, much of which is said to have stuck in the +pockets of two feudal chiefs who could be named. Is it possible that +there is a split in the feudal system at last? that the two feudal +chiefs (who could be named) are rebels against highest authority? A +smile from the sophisticated one. This duke and baron have merely +stopped to pluck a bird; it matters not whether or not the bird is an +erstwhile friend--he has been outlawed by highest authority, and is fair +game. The bird (with the toothpick in his mouth) creates a smile from +other chiefs of the system in good standing who are not too busy to look +at him. They have ceased all attempts to buttonhole him, for he is +unapproachable. + +The other bird, the rebel of Leith, who has never been in the feudal +system at all, they have stopped laughing at. It is he who has brought +the Empire to its most precarious state. + +And now, while strangers from near and far throng into town, drawn by the +sensational struggle which is to culminate in battle to-day, Mr. Crewe is +marshalling his forces. All the delegates who can be collected, and who +wear the button with the likeness and superscription of Humphrey Crewe, +are drawn up beside the monument in the park, where the Ripton Band is +stationed; and presently they are seen by cheering crowds marching to +martial music towards the convention hall, where they collect in a body, +with signs and streamers in praise of the People's Champion well to the +front and centre. This is generally regarded as a piece of consummate +general ship on the part of their leader. They are applauded from the +galleries,--already packed,--especially from one conspicuous end where +sit that company of ladies (now so famed) whose efforts have so +materially aided the cause of the People's Champion. Gay streamers vie +with gayer gowns, and morning papers on the morrow will have something to +say about the fashionable element and the special car which brought them +from Leith. + +"My, but it is hot!" + +The hall is filled now, with the thousand delegates, or their +representatives who are fortunate enough to possess their credentials. +Something of this matter later. General Doby, chairman of the +convention, an impressive but mournful figure, could not call a roll if +he wanted to. Not that he will want to! Impossible to tell, by the +convenient laws of the State, whether the duly elected delegates of Hull +or Mercer or Truro are here or not, since their credentials may be bought +or sold or conferred. Some political giants, who have not negotiated +their credentials, are recognized as they walk down the aisle: the +statesmanlike figure of Senator Whitredge (a cheer); that of Senator +Green (not so statesmanlike, but a cheer); Congressman Fairplay (cheers); +and--Hilary Vane! His a figure that does not inspire cheers,--least of +all to-day,--the man upon whose shoulders rests the political future of +the Northeastern. The conservative Mr. Tredways and other Lincoln +radicals of long ago who rely on his strength and judgment are not the +sort to cheer. And yet--and yet Hilary inspires some feeling when, with +stooping gait, he traverses the hall, and there is a hush in many +quarters as delegates and spectators watch his progress to the little +room off the platform: the general's room, as the initiated know. + +Ah, but few know what a hateful place it is to Hilary Vane to-day, this +keyboard at which he has sat so complacently in years gone by, the envied +of conventions. He sits down wearily at the basswood table, and scarcely +hears the familiar sounds without, which indicate that the convention of +conventions has begun. Extraordinary phenomenon at such a time, scenes +of long ago and little cherished then, are stealing into his mind. + +The Reverend Mr. Crane (so often chaplain of the Legislature, and known +to the irreverent as the chaplain of the Northeastern) is praying now for +guidance in the counsels of this great gathering of the people's +representatives. God will hear Mr. Botcher better if he closes his eyes; +which he does. Now the platform is being read by State Senator Billings; +closed eyes would best suit this proceeding, too. As a parallel to that +platform, one can think only of the Ten Commandments. The Republican +Party (chosen children of Israel) must be kept free from the domination +of corporations. (Cheers and banner waving for a full minute.) Some +better method of choosing delegates which will more truly reflect the +will of the people. (Plank of the Honourable Jacob Botcher, whose +conscience is awakening.) Never mind the rest. It is a triumph for Mr. +Crewe, and is all printed in that orthodox (reform) newspaper, the State +Tribune, with urgent editorials that it must be carried out to the +letter. + +And what now? Delegates, credential holders, audience, and the Reverend +Mr. Crane draw long breaths of heated carbon dioxide. Postmaster Burrows +of Edmundton, in rounded periods, is putting in nomination his +distinguished neighbour and fellow-citizen, the Honourable Adam B. Hunt, +who can subscribe and say amen to every plank in that platform. He +believes it, he has proclaimed it in public, and he embodies it. Mr. +Burrows indulges in slight but effective sarcasm of sham reformers and +so-called business men who perform the arduous task of cutting coupons +and live in rarefied regions where they can only be seen by the common +people when the light is turned on. (Cheers from two partisan bodies and +groans and hisses from another. General Doby, with a pained face, +pounding with the gavel. This isn't a circumstance to what's coming, +General.) + +After General Doby has succeeded in abating the noise in honour-of the +Honourable Adam, there is a hush of expectancy. Humphrey Crewe, who has +made all this trouble and enthusiasm, is to be nominated next, and the +Honourable Timothy Wailing of Newcastle arises to make that celebrated +oration which the cynical have called the "thousand-dollar speech." And +even if they had named it well (which is not for a moment to be +admitted!), it is cheap for the price. How Mr. Crewe's ears must tingle +as he paces his headquarters in the Pelican! Almost would it be +sacrilege to set down cold, on paper, the words that come, burning, out +of the Honourable Timothy's loyal heart. Here, gentlemen, is a man at +last, not a mere puppet who signs his name when a citizen of New York +pulls the string; one who is prepared to make any sacrifice,--to spend +his life, if need be, in their service. (A barely audible voice, before +the cheering commences, "I guess that's so.") Humphrey Crewe needs no +defence--the Honourable Timothy avers--at his hands, or any one's. Not +merely an idealist, but a practical man who has studied the needs of the +State; unselfish to the core; longing, like Washington, the Father of his +Country, to remain in a beautiful country home, where he dispenses +hospitality with a flowing hand to poor and rich alike, yet harking to +the call of duty. Leaving, like the noble Roman of old, his plough in +the furrow--(Same voice as before, "I wish he'd left his automobil' +thar!" Hisses and laughter.) The Honourable Timothy, undaunted, snatches +his hand from the breast of his Prince Albert and flings it, with a +superb gesture, towards the Pelican. "Gentlemen, I have the honour to +nominate to this convention that peerless leader for the right, the +Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith--our next governor." + +General Andrew Jackson himself, had he been alive and on this historic +ground and chairman of that convention, could scarce have quelled the +tumult aroused by this name and this speech--much less General Doby. +Although a man of presence, measurable by scales with weights enough, our +general has no more ponderosity now than a leaf in a mountain storm at +Hale--and no more control over the hurricane. Behold him now, pounding +with his gavel on something which should give forth a sound, but doesn't. +Who is he (to change the speech's figure--not the general's), who is he +to drive a wild eight-horse team, who is fit only to conduct Mr. Flint's +oxen in years gone by? + +It is a memorable scene, sketched to life for the metropolitan press. +The man on the chair, his face lighted by a fanatic enthusiasm, is the +Honourable Hamilton Tooting, coatless and collarless, leading the cheers +that shake the building, that must have struck terror to the soul of +Augustus P. Flint himself--fifty miles away. But the endurance of the +human throat is limited. + +Why, in the name of political strategy, has United States Senator Greene +been chosen to nominate the Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston? Some +say that it is the will of highest authority, others that the senator is +a close friend of the Honourable Giles--buys his coal from him, +wholesale. Both surmises are true. The senator's figure is not +impressive, his voice less so, and he reads from manuscript, to the +accompaniment of continual cries of "Louder!" A hook for Leviathan! "A +great deal of dribble," said the senator, for little rocks sometimes +strike fire, "has been heard about the 'will of the people.'" + +The Honourable Giles Henderson is beholden to no man and to no +corporation, and will go into office prepared to do justice impartially +to all." + +"Bu--copia verborum--let us to the main business!" + +To an hundred newspapers, to Mr. Flint at Fairview, and other important +personages ticks out the momentous news that the balloting has begun. No +use trying to hold your breath until the first ballot is announced; it +takes time to obtain the votes of one thousand men--especially when +neither General Doby nor any one else knows who they are! The only way +is to march up on the stage by counties and file past the ballot-box. +Putnam, with their glitter-eyed duke, Mr. Bascom, at their head-- +presumably solid for Adam B. Hunt; Baron Burrows, who farms out the post- +office at Edmundton, leads Edmunds County; Earl Elisha Jane, consul at +some hot place where he spends the inclement months drops the first +ticket for Haines County, ostensibly solid for home-made virtue and the +Honourable Giles. + +An hour and a quarter of suspense and torture passes, while collars wilt +and coats come off, and fans in the gallery wave incessantly, and excited +conversation buzzes in every quarter. And now, see! there is whispering +on the stage among the big-bugs. Mr. Chairman Doby rises with a paper in +his hand, and the buzzing dies down to silence. + + The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . .398 + The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . 353 + The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has. . 249 + And a majority being required, there is no choice! + +Are the supporters of the People's Champion crest-fallen, think you? Mr. +Tooting is not leading them for the moment, but is pressing through the +crowd outside the hall and flying up the street to the Pelican and the +bridal suite, where he is first with the news. Note for an unabridged +biography: the great man is discovered sitting quietly by the window, +poring over a book on the modern science of road-building, some notes +from which he is making for his first message. And instead of the reek +of tobacco smoke, the room is filled with the scent of the floral +tributes brought down by the Ladies' Auxiliary from Leith. In Mr. +Crewe's right-hand pocket, neatly typewritten, is his speech of +acceptance. He is never caught unprepared. Unkind, now, to remind him +of that prediction made last night about the first ballot to the +newspapers--and useless. + +"I told you last night they were buyin' 'em right under our noses," cried +Mr. Tooting, in a paroxysm of indignation, "and you wouldn't believe me. +They got over one hundred and sixty away from us." + +"It strikes me, Mr. Tooting," said Mr. Crewe, "that it was your business +to prevent that." + +There will no doubt be a discussion, when the biographer reaches this +juncture, concerning the congruity of reform delegates who can be bought. +It is too knotty a point of ethics to be dwelt upon here. + +"Prevent it!" echoed Mr. Tooting, and in the strong light of the +righteousness of that eye reproaches failed him. "But there's a whole +lot of 'em can be seen, right now, while the ballots are being taken. It +won't be decided on the next ballot." + +"Mr. Tooting," said Mr. Crewe, indubitably proving that he had the +qualities of a leader--if such proof were necessary, "go back to the +convention. I have no doubt of the outcome, but that doesn't mean you +are to relax your efforts. Do you understand?" + +"I guess I do," replied Mr. Tooting, and was gone. "He still has his +flag up," he whispered into the Honourable Timothy Watling's ear, when he +reached the hall. "He'll stand a little more yet." + +Mr. Tooting, at times, speaks a language unknown to us--and the second +ballot is going on. And during its progress the two principal +lieutenants of the People's Champion were observed going about the hall +apparently exchanging the time of day with various holders of +credentials. Mr. Jane, too, is going about the hall, and Postmaster +Burrows, and Postmaster Bill Fleeting of Brampton, and the Honourable Nat +Billings, and Messrs. Bascom and Botcher, and Mr. Manning, division +superintendent, and the Honourable Orrin Young, railroad commissioner and +candidate for reappointment--all are embracing the opportunity to greet +humble friends or to make new acquaintances. Another hour and a quarter, +with the temperature steadily rising and the carbon dioxide increasing-- +and the second ballot is announced. + + The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . 440 + The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . . 336 + The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has . . . 255 + +And there are three votes besides improperly made out! + +What the newspapers call indescribable excitement ensues. The three +votes improperly made out are said to be trip passes accidentally dropped +into the box by the supporters of the Honourable Elisha Jane. And add up +the sum total of the votes! Thirty-one votes more than there are +credentials in the hall! Mystery of mysteries how can it be? The +ballot, announces General Doby, after endless rapping, is a blank. +Cheers, recriminations, exultation, disgust of decent citizens, attempts +by twenty men to get the eye of the president (which is too watery to see +any of them), and rushes for the platform to suggest remedies or ask what +is going to be done about such palpable fraud. What can be done? Call +the roll! How in blazes can you call the roll when you don't know who's +here? Messrs. Jane, Botcher, Bascom, and Fleming are not disturbed, and +improve their time. Watling and Tooting rush to the bridal suite, and +rush back again to demand justice. General Doby mingles his tears with +theirs, and somebody calls him a jellyfish. He does not resent it. +Friction makes the air hotter and hotter--Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego +would scarce enter into this furnace,--and General Doby has a large damp +spot on his back as he pounds and pounds and pounds until we are off +again on the third ballot. No dinner, and three-thirty P.M.! Two +delegates have fainted, but the essential parts of them--the credentials +--are left behind. + +Four-forty, whispering again, and the gavel drops. + + The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . 412 + The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . 325 + The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has. . . 250 + And there is no choice on the third ballot! + +Thirteen delegates are actually missing this time. Scour the town! And +now even the newspaper adjectives describing the scene have given out. A +persistent and terrifying rumour goes the rounds, where's Tom Gaylord? +Somebody said he was in the hall a moment ago, on a Ripton credential. +If so, he's gone out again--gone out to consult the dark horse, who is in +town, somewhere. Another ominous sign: Mr. Redbrook, Mr. Widgeon of +Hull, and the other rural delegates who have been voting for the People's +Champion, and who have not been observed in friendly conversation with +anybody at all, now have their heads together. Mr. Billings goes +sauntering by, but cannot hear what they are saying. Something must be +done, and right away, and the knowing metropolitan reporters are winking +at each other and declaring darkly that a sensation is about to turn up. + +Where is Hilary Vane? Doesn't he realize the danger? Or--traitorous +thought!--doesn't he care? To see his son nominated would be a singular +revenge for the indignities which are said to have been heaped upon him. +Does Hilary Vane, the strong man of the State, merely sit at the +keyboard, powerless, while the tempest itself shakes from the organ a new +and terrible music? Nearly, six hours he has sat at the basswood table, +while senators, congressmen, feudal chiefs, and even Chairman Doby +himself flit in and out, whisper in his ear, set papers before him, and +figures and problems, and telegrams from highest authority. He merely +nods his head, says a word now and then, or holds his peace. Does he +know what he's about? If they had not heard things concerning his +health,--and other things,--they would still feel safe. He seems the +only calm man to be found in the hall--but is the calm aberration? + +A conference in the corner of the platform, while the fourth ballot is +progressing, is held between Senators Whitredge and Greene, Mr. Ridout +and Mr. Manning. So far the Honourable Hilary has apparently done +nothing but let the storm take its course; a wing-footed messenger has +returned who has seen Mr. Thomas Gaylord walking rapidly up Maple Street, +and Austen Vane (most astute and reprehensible of politicians) is said to +be at the Widow Peasley's, quietly awaiting the call. The name of Austen +Vane--another messenger says--is running like wildfire through the hall, +from row to row. Mr. Crewe has no chance--so rumour goes. A reformer +(to pervert the saying of a celebrated contemporary humorist) must fight +Marquis of Queensberry to win; and the People's Champion, it is averred, +has not. Shrewd country delegates who had listened to the Champion's +speeches and had come to the capital prepared to vote for purity, had +been observing the movements since yesterday, of Mr. Tooting and Mr. +Wading with no inconsiderable interest. Now was the psychological moment +for Austen Vane, but who was to beard Hilary? + +No champion was found, and the Empire, the fate of which was in the hands +of a madman, was cracking. Let an individual of character and known +anti-railroad convictions (such as the gentleman said to be at the Widow +Peasley's) be presented to the convention, and they would nominate him. +Were Messrs. Bascom and Botcher going to act the part of Samsons? Were +they working for revenge and a new regime? Mr. Whitredge started for the +Pelican, not at his ordinary senatorial gait, to get Mr. Flint on the +telephone. + +The result of the fourth ballot was announced, and bedlam broke loose. + +The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . 419 +The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . . 337 +The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has . . . 256 + +Total, one thousand and eleven out of a thousand! Two delegates +abstained from voting, and proclaimed the fact, but were heard only a few +feet away. Other delegates, whose flesh and blood could stand the +atmosphere no longer, were known to have left the hall! Aha! the secret +is out, if anybody could hear it. At the end of every ballot several +individuals emerge and mix with the crowd in the street. Astute men +sometimes make mistakes, and the following conversation occurs between +one of the individuals in question and Mr. Crewe's chauffeur. + + Individual: "Do you want to come in and see the convention and + vote?" + + Chauffeur: "I am Frenchman." + + Individual: "That doesn't cut any ice. I'll make out the ballot, + and all you'll have to do is to drop it in the box." + Chauffeur: "All right; I vote for Meester Crewe." + +Sudden disappearance of the individual. + +Nor is this all. The Duke of Putnam, for example, knows how many +credentials there are in his county--say, seventy-six. He counts the men +present and voting, and his result is sixty-one. Fifteen are absent, +getting food or--something else. Fifteen vote over again. But, as the +human brain is prone to error, and there are men in the street, the Duke +miscalculates; the Earl of Haines miscalculates, too. Result--eleven +over a thousand votes, and some nine hundred men in the hall! + +How are you going to stop it? Mr. Watling climbs up on the platform and +shakes his fist in General Doby's face, and General Doby tearfully +appeals for an honest ballot--to the winds. + +In the meantime the Honourable Elisha Jane, spurred on by desperation and +thoughts of a 'dolce far niente' gone forever; has sought and cornered +Mr. Bascom. + +"For God's sake, Brush," cries the Honourable Elisha, "hasn't this thing +gone far enough? A little of it is all right--the boys understand that; +but have you thought what it means to you and me if these blanked +reformers get in,--if a feller like Austen Vane is nominated?" + +That cold, hard glitter which we have seen was in Mr. Bascom's eyes. + +"You fellers have got the colic," was the remark of the arch-rebel. "Do +you think old Hilary doesn't know what he's about?" + +"It looks that way to me," said Mr. Jane. + +"It looks that way to Doby too, I guess," said Mr. Bascom, with a glance +of contempt at the general; "he's lost about fifteen pounds to-day. Did +Hilary send you down here?" he demanded. + +"No," Mr. Jane confessed. + +"Then go back and chase yourself around the platform some more," was Mr. +Bascom's unfeeling advice, "and don't have a fit here. All the brains in +this hall are in Hilary's room. When he's ready to talk business with me +in behalf of the Honourable Giles Henderson, I guess he'll do so." + +But fear had entered the heart of the Honourable Elisha, and there was a +sickly feeling in the region of his stomach which even the strong +medicine administered by the Honourable Brush failed to alleviate. He +perceived Senator Whitredge, returned from the Pelican. But the advice-- +if any--the president of the Northeastern has given the senator is not +forthcoming in practice. Mr. Flint, any more than Ulysses himself, +cannot recall the tempests when his own followers have slit the bags--and +in sight of Ithaca! Another conference at the back of the stage, out of +which emerges State Senator Nat Billings and gets the ear of General +Doby. + +"Let 'em yell," says Mr. Billings--as though the general, by raising one +adipose hand, could quell the storm. Eyes are straining, scouts are +watching at the back of the hall and in the street, for the first glimpse +of the dreaded figure of Mr. Thomas Gaylord. "Let 'em yell;" counsels +Mr. Billings, "and if they do nominate anybody nobody'll hear 'em. And +send word to Putnam County to come along on their fifth ballot." + +It is Mr. Billings himself who sends word to Putnam County, in the name +of the convention's chairman. Before the messenger can reach Putnam +County another arrives on the stage, with wide pupils, "Tom Gaylord is +coming!" This momentous news, Marconi-like, penetrates the storm, and is +already on the floor. Mr. Widgeon and Mr. Redbrook are pushing their way +towards the door. The conference, emboldened by terror, marches in a +body into the little room, and surrounds the calmly insane Lieutenant- +general of the forces; it would be ill-natured to say that visions of +lost railroad commissionerships, lost consulships, lost postmasterships,- +-yes, of lost senatorships, were in these loyal heads at this crucial +time. + +It was all very well (so said the first spokesman) to pluck a few +feathers from a bird so bountifully endowed as the Honourable Adam, but +were not two gentlemen who should be nameless carrying the joke a little +too far? Mr. Vane unquestionably realized what he was doing, but--was it +not almost time to call in the two gentlemen and--and come to some +understanding? + +"Gentlemen," said the Honourable Hilary, apparently unmoved, "I have not +seen Mr. Bascom or Mr. Botcher since the sixteenth day of August, and I +do not intend to." + +Some clearing of throats followed this ominous declaration,--and a +painful silence. The thing must be said and who would say it? Senator +Whitredge was the hero. + +Mr. Thomas Gaylord has just entered the convention hall, and is said to +be about to nominate--a dark horse. The moment was favourable, the +convention demoralized, and at least one hundred delegates had left the +hall. (How about the last ballot, Senator, which showed 1011?) + +The Honourable Hilary rose abruptly, closed the door to shut out the +noise, and turned and looked Mr. Whitredge in the eye. + +"Who is the dark horse?" he demanded. + +The members of the conference coughed again, looked at each other, and +there was a silence. For some inexplicable reason, nobody cared to +mention the name of Austen Vane. + +The Honourable Hilary pointed at the basswood table. + +"Senator," he said, "I understand you have been telephoning Mr. Flint. +Have you got orders to sit down there?" + +"My dear sir," said the Senator, "you misunderstand me." + +"Have you got orders to sit down there?" Mr. Vane repeated. + +"No," answered the Senator, "Mr. Flint's confidence in you--" + +The Honourable Hilary sat down again, and at that instant the door was +suddenly flung open by Postmaster Bill Fleeting of Brampton, his genial +face aflame with excitement and streaming with perspiration. Forgotten, +in this moment, is senatorial courtesy and respect for the powers of the +feudal system. + +"Say, boys," he cried, "Putnam County's voting, and there's be'n no +nomination and ain't likely to be. Jim Scudder, the station-master at +Wye, is here on credentials, and he says for sure the thing's fizzled +out, and Tom Gaylord's left the hall!" + +Again a silence, save for the high hum let in through the open doorway. +The members of the conference stared at the Honourable Hilary, who seemed +to have forgotten their presence; for he had moved his chair to the +window, and was gazing out over the roofs at the fast-fading red in the +western sky. + +An hour later, when the room was in darkness save for the bar of light +that streamed in from the platform chandelier, Senator Whitredge entered. + +"Hilary!" he said. + +There was no answer. Mr. Whitredge felt in his pocket for a match, +struck it, and lighted the single jet over the basswood table. Mr. Vane +still sat by the window. The senator turned and closed the door, and +read from a paper in his hand; so used was he to formality that he read +it formally, yet with a feeling of intense relief, of deference, of +apology. + +"Fifth ballot:-- + +The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . 587 +The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has. . . 230 +The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . 154 + +And Giles Henderson is nominated--Hilary?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Vane. + +"I don't think any of us were--quite ourselves to-day. It wasn't that we +didn't believe in you--but we didn't have all the threads in our hands, +and--for reasons which I think I can understand--you didn't take us into +your confidence. I want to--" + +The words died on the senator's lips. So absorbed had he been in his +momentous news, and solicitous over the result of his explanation, that +his eye looked outward for the first time, and even then accidentally. + +"Hilary!" he cried; "for God's sake, what's the matter? Are you sick?" + +"Yes, Whitredge," said Mr. Vane, slowly, "sick at heart." + +It was but natural that these extraordinary and incomprehensible words +should have puzzled and frightened the senator more than ever. + +"Your heart!" he repeated. + +"Yes, my heart," said Hilary. + +The senator reached for the ice-water on the table. + +"Here," he cried, pouring out a glass, "it's only the heat--it's been a +hard day--drink this." + +But Hilary did not raise his arm. The door opened others coming to +congratulate Hilary Vane on the greatest victory he had ever won. +Offices were secure once more, the feudal system intact, and rebels +justly punished; others coming to make their peace with the commander +whom, senseless as they were, they had dared to doubt. + +They crowded past each other on the threshold, and stood grouped beyond +the basswood table, staring--staring--men suddenly come upon a tragedy +instead of a feast, the senator still holding the glass of water in a +hand that trembled and spilled it. And it was the senator, after all, +who first recovered his presence of mind. He set down the water, pushed +his way through the group into the hall, where the tumult and the +shouting die. Mr. Giles Henderson, escorted, is timidly making his way +towards the platform to read his speech of acceptance of a willing +bondage, when a voice rings out:-- + +"If there is a physician in the house, will he please come forward?" + +And then a hush,--and then the buzz of comment. Back to the little room +once more, where they are gathered speechless about Hilary Vane. And the +doctor comes young Dr. Tredway of Ripton, who is before all others. + +"I expected this to happen, gentlemen," he said, "and I have been here +all day, at the request of Mr. Vane's son, for this purpose." + +"Austen!" + +It was Hilary who spoke. + +"I have sent for him," said the doctor. "And now, gentlemen, if you will +kindly--" + +They withdrew and the doctor shut the door. Outside, the Honourable +Giles is telling them how seriously he regards the responsibility of the +honour thrust upon him by a great party. But nobody hears him in the +wild rumours that fly from mouth to mouth as the hall empties. Rushing +in against the tide outpouring, tall, stern, vigorous, is a young man +whom many recognize, whose name is on many lips as they make way for him, +who might have saved them if he would. The door of the little room +opens, and he stands before his father, looking down at him. And the +stern expression is gone from his face. + +"Austen!" said Mr. Vane. + +"Yes, Judge." + +"Take me away from here. Take me home--now--to-night." + +Austen glanced at Dr. Tredway. + +"It is best," said the doctor; "we will take him home--to-night." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE VOICE OF AN ERA + +They took him home, in the stateroom of the sleeper attached to the night +express from the south, although Mr. Flint, by telephone, had put a +special train at his disposal. The long service of Hilary Vane was over; +he had won his last fight for the man he had chosen to call his master; +and those who had fought behind him, whose places, whose very luminary +existences, had depended on his skill, knew that the end had come; nay, +were already speculating, manoeuvring, and taking sides. Who would be +the new Captain-general? Who would be strong enough to suppress the +straining ambitions of the many that the Empire might continue to +flourish in its integrity and gather tribute? It is the world-old cry +around the palace walls: Long live the new ruler--if you can find him +among the curdling factions. + +They carried Hilary home that September night, when Sawanec was like a +gray ghost-mountain facing the waning moon, back to the home of those +strange, Renaissance Austens which he had reclaimed for a grim +puritanism, and laid him in the carved and canopied bedstead Channing +Austen had brought from Spain. Euphrasia had met them at the door, but a +trained nurse from the Ripton hospital was likewise in waiting; and a New +York specialist had been summoned to prolong, if possible, the life of +one from whom all desire for life had passed. + +Before sunrise a wind came from the northern spruces; the dawn was +cloudless, fiery red, and the air had an autumn sharpness. At ten +o'clock Dr. Harmon arrived, was met at the station by Austen, and spent +half an hour with Dr. Tredway. At noon the examination was complete. +Thanks to generations of self-denial by the Vanes of Camden Street, Mr. +Hilary Vane might live indefinitely, might even recover, partially; but +at present he was condemned to remain, with his memories, in the great +canopied bed. + +The Honourable Hilary had had another caller that morning besides Dr. +Harmon,--no less a personage than the president of the Northeastern +Railroads himself, who had driven down from Fairview immediately after +breakfast. Austen having gone to the station, Dr. Tredway had received +Mr. Flint in the darkened hall, and had promised to telephone to Fairview +the verdict of the specialist. At present Dr. Tredway did not think it +wise to inform Hilary of Mr. Flint's visit--not, at least, until after +the examination. + +Mr. Vane exhibited the same silent stoicism on receiving the verdict of +Dr. Harmon as he had shown from the first. With the clew to Hilary's +life which Dr. Tredway had given him, the New York physician understood +the case; one common enough in his practice in a great city where the +fittest survive--sometimes only to succumb to unexpected and irreparable +blows in the evening of life. + +On his return from seeing Dr. Harmon off Austen was met on the porch by +Dr. Tredway. + +"Your father has something on his mind," said the doctor, "and perhaps it +is just as well that he should be relieved. He is asking for you, and I +merely wished to advise you to make the conversation as short as +possible." + +Austen climbed the stairs in obedience to this summons, and stood before +his father at the bedside. Hilary lay, back among the pillows, and the +brightness of that autumn noonday only served to accentuate the pallor of +his face, the ravages of age which had come with such incredible +swiftness, and the outline of a once vigorous frame. The eyes alone +shone with a strange new light, and Austen found it unexpectedly +difficult to speak. He sat down on the bed and laid his hand on the +helpless one that rested on the coverlet. + +"Austen," said Mr. Vane, "I want you to go to Fairview." + +His son's hand tightened over his own. + +"Yes, Judge." + +"I want you to go now." + +"Yes, Judge." + +"You know the combination of my safe at the office. It's never been +changed since--since you were there. Open it. You will find two tin +boxes, containing papers labelled Augustus P. Flint. I want you to take +them to Fairview and put them into the hands of Mr. Flint himself. I--I +cannot trust any one else. I promised to take them myself, but--Flint +will understand." + +"I'll go right away," said Austen, rising, and trying to speak +cheerfully. "Mr. Flint was here early this morning--inquiring for you." + +Hilary Vane's lips trembled, and another expression came into his eyes. + +"Rode down to look at the scrap-heap,--did he?" + +Austen strove to conceal his surprise at his father's words and change of +manner. + +"Tredway saw him," he said. "I'm pretty sure Mr. Flint doesn't feel that +way, Judge. He has taken your illness very much to heart, I know, and he +left some fruit and flowers for you." + +"I guess his daughter sent those," said Hilary. + +"His daughter?" Austen repeated. + +"If I didn't think so," Mr. Vane continued, "I'd send 'em back. I never +knew what she was until she picked me up and drove me down here. I've +always done Victoria an injustice." + +Austen walked to the door, and turned slowly. + +"I'll go at once, Judge," he said. + +In the kitchen he was confronted by Euphrasia. + +"When is that woman going away?" she demanded. "I've took care of Hilary +Vane nigh on to forty years, and I guess I know as much about nursing, +and more about Hilary, than that young thing with her cap and apron. I +told Dr. Tredway so. She even came down here to let me know what to cook +for him, and I sent her about her business." + +Austen smiled. It was the first sign, since his return the night before, +Euphrasia had given that an affection for Hilary Vane lurked beneath the +nature. + +"She won't stay long, Phrasie," he answered, and added mischievously, +"for a very good reason." + +"And what's that?" asked Euphrasia. + +"Because you won't allow her to. I have a notion that she'll pack up and +leave in about three days, and that all the doctors in Ripton couldn't +keep her here." + +"Get along with you," said Euphrasia, who could not for the life of her +help looking a little pleased. + +"I'm going off for a few hours," he said more seriously. "Dr. Tredway +tells me they do not look for any developments--for the worse." + +"Where are you going?" asked Euphrasia, sharply. + +"To Fairview," he said. + +Euphrasia moved the kettle to another part of the stove. + +"You'll see her?" she said. + +"Who?" Austen asked. But his voice must have betrayed him a little, for +Euphrasia turned and seized him by the elbows and looked up into his +face. + +"Victoria," she said. + +He felt himself tremble at the name,--at the strangeness of its sound on +Euphrasia's lips. + +"I do not expect to see Miss Flint," he answered, controlling himself as +well as he was able. "I have an errand for the Judge with Mr. Flint +himself." + +Euphrasia had guessed his secret! But how? + +"Hadn't you better see her?" said Euphrasia, in a curious monotone. + +"But I have no errand with her," he objected, mystified yet excited by +Euphrasia's manner. + +"She fetched Hilary home," said Euphrasia. + +"Yes." + +She couldn't have be'n kinder if she was his own daughter." + +"I know--" he began, but Euphrasia interrupted. + +"She sent that Englishman for the doctor, and waited to take the news to +her father, and she came out in this kitchen and talked to me." + +Austen started. Euphrasia was not looking at him now, and suddenly she +dropped his arms and went to the window overlooking the garden. + +"She wouldn't go in the parlour, but come right out here in her fine +clothes. I told her I didn't think she belonged in a kitchen--but I +guess I did her an injustice," said Euphrasia, slowly. + +"I think you did," he said, and wondered. + +"She looked at that garden," Euphrasia went on, "and cried out. I didn't +callate she was like that. And the first thing I knew I was talking +about your mother, and I'd forgot who I was talking to. She wahn't like +a stranger--it was just as if I'd known her always. I haven't understood +it yet. And after a while I told her about that verse, and she wanted to +see it--the verse about the skylark, you know--" + +"Yes," said Austen. + +"Well, the way she read it made me cry, it brought back Sarah Austen so. +Somehow, I can't account for it, she puts me in mind of your mother." + +Austen did not speak. + +"In more ways than one," said Euphrasia. "I didn't look to find her so +natural--and so gentle. And their she has a way of scolding you, just as +Sarah Austen had, that you'd never suspect." + +"Did she scold you--Phrasie?" asked Austen. And the irresistible humour +that is so near to sorrow made him smile again. + +"Indeed she did! And it surprised, me some--coming right out of a summer +sky. I told her what I thought about Hilary, and how he'd driven you out +of your own mother's house. She said you'd ought to be sent for, and I +said you oughtn't to set foot in this house until Hilary sent for you. +She said I'd no right to take such a revenge--that you'd come right away +if you knew Hilary'd had a stroke, and that Hilary'd never send for you-- +because he couldn't. She said he was like a man on a desert island." + +"She was right," answered Austen. + +"I don't know about that," said Euphrasia; "she hadn't put up with Hilary +for forty years, as I had, and seen what he'd done to your mother and +you. But that's what she said. And she went for you herself, when she +found the doctor couldn't go. Austen, ain't you going to see her?" + +Austen shook his head gently, and smiled at her. + +"I'm afraid it's no use, Phrasie," he said. "Just because she has been-- +kind we mustn't be deceived. It's h er nature to be kind." + +Euphrasia crossed the room swiftly, and seized his arm again. + +"She loves you, Austen," she cried; "she loves you. Do you think that +I'd love her, that I'd plead for her, if she didn't?" + +Austen's breath came deeply. He disengaged himself, and went to the +window. + +"No," he said, "you don't know. You can't--know. I have only seen her-- +a few times. She lives a different life--and with other people. She +will marry a man who can give her more." + +"Do you think I could be deceived?" exclaimed Euphrasia, almost fiercely. +"It's as true as the sun shining on that mountain. You believe she loves +the Englishman, but I tell you she loves you--you." + +He turned towards her. + +"How do you know?" he asked, as though he were merely curious. + +"Because I'm a woman, and she's a woman," said Euphrasia. "Oh, she +didn't confess it. If she had, I shouldn't think so much of her. But +she told me as plain as though she had spoken it in words, before she +left this room." + +Austen shook his head again. + +"Phrasie," he said, "I'm afraid you've been building castles in Spain." +And he went out, and across to the stable to harness Pepper. + +Austen did not believe Euphrasia. On that eventful evening when Victoria +had called at Jabe Jenney's, the world's aspect had suddenly changed for +him; old values had faded,--values which, after all, had been but tints +and glows,--and sterner but truer colours took their places. He saw +Victoria's life in a new perspective,--one in which his was but a small +place in the background of her numerous beneficences; which was, after +all, the perspective in which he had first viewed it. But, by degrees, +the hope that she loved him had grown and grown until it had become +unconsciously the supreme element of his existence,--the hope that stole +sweetly into his mind with the morning light, and stayed him through the +day, and blended into the dreams of darkness. + +By inheritance, by tradition, by habits of thought, Austen Vane was an +American,--an American as differentiated from the citizen of any other +nation upon the earth. The French have an expressive phrase in speaking +of a person as belonging to this or that world, meaning the circle by +which the life of an individual is bounded; the true American recognizes +these circles--but with complacency, and with a sure knowledge of his +destiny eventually to find himself within the one for which he is best +fitted by his talents and his tastes. The mere fact that Victoria had +been brought up amongst people with whom he had nothing in common would +not have deterred Austen Vane from pressing his suit; considerations of +honour had stood in the way, and hope had begun to whisper that these +might, in the end, be surmounted. Once they had disappeared, and she +loved him, that were excuse and reason enough. + +And suddenly the sight of Victoria with a probable suitor--who at once +had become magnified into an accepted suitor--had dispelled hope. +Euphrasia! Euphrasia had been deceived as he had, by a loving kindness +and a charity that were natural. But what so natural (to one who had +lived the life of Austen Vane) as that she should marry amongst those +whose ways of life were her ways? In the brief time in which he had seen +her and this other man, Austen's quickened perceptions had detected tacit +understanding, community of interest, a habit of thought and manner,--in +short, a common language, unknown to him, between the two. And, more +than these, the Victoria of the blissful excursions he had known was +changed as she had spoken to him--constrained, distant, apart; although +still dispensing kindness, going out of her way to bring Hilary home, and +to tell him of Hilary's accident. Rumour, which cannot be confined in +casks or bottles, had since informed Austen Vane that Mr. Rangely had +spent the day with Victoria, and had remained at Fairview far into the +evening; rumour went farther (thanks to Mrs. Pomfret) and declared the +engagement already an accomplished fact. And to Austen, in the twilight +in front of Jabe Jenney's, the affair might well have assumed the +proportions of an intimacy of long standing rather than that of the +chance acquaintance of an hour. Friends in common, modes of life in +common, and incidents in common are apt to sweep away preliminaries. + +Such were Austen's thoughts as he drove to Fairview that September +afternoon when the leaves were turning their white backs to the northwest +breeze. The sun was still high, and the distant hills and mountains were +as yet scarce stained with blue, and stood out in startling clearness +against the sky. Would he see her? That were a pain he scarce dared +contemplate. + +He reached the arched entrance, was on the drive. Here was the path +again by which she had come down the hillside; here was the very stone on +which she had stood--awaiting him. Why? Why had she done that? Well- +remembered figure amidst the yellow leaves dancing in the sunlight! Here +he had stopped, perforce, and here he had looked up into his face and +smiled and spoken! + +At length he gained the plateau across which the driveway ran, between +round young maples, straight to Fairview House, and he remembered the +stares from the tea-tables, and how she had come out to his rescue. Now +the lawn was deserted, save for a gardener among the shrubs. He rang the +stable-bell, and as he waited for an answer to his summons, the sense of +his remoteness from these surroundings of hers deepened, and with a touch +of inevitable humour he recalled the low-ceiled bedroom at Mr. Jenney's +and the kitchen in Hanover Street; the annual cost of the care of that +lawn and driveway might well have maintained one of these households. + +He told the stable-boy to wait. It is to be remarked as curious that the +name of the owner of the house on Austen's lips brought the first thought +of him to Austen's mind. He was going to see and speak with Mr. Flint, a +man who had been his enemy ever since the day he had come here and laid +down his pass on the president's desk; the man who--so he believed until +three days ago--had stood between him and happiness. Well, it did not +matter now. + +Austen followed the silent-moving servant through the hall. Those were +the stairs which knew her feet, these the rooms--so subtly flower- +scented--she lived in; then came the narrow passage to the sterner +apartment of the master himself. Mr. Flint was alone, and seated upright +behind the massive oak desk, from which bulwark the president of the +Northeastern was wont to meet his opponents and his enemies; and few +visitors came into his presence, here or elsewhere, who were not to be +got the better of, if possible. A life-long habit had accustomed Mr. +Flint to treat all men as adversaries until they were proved otherwise. +His square, close-cropped head, his large features, his alert eyes, were +those of a fighter. + +He did not rise, but nodded. Suddenly Austen was enveloped in a flame of +wrath that rose without warning and blinded him, and it was with a +supreme effort to control himself that he stopped in the doorway. He was +frightened, for he had felt this before, and he knew it for the anger +that demands physical violence. + +"Come in, Mr. Vane," said the president. + +Austen advanced to the desk, and laid the boxes before Mr. Flint. + +"Mr. Vane told me to say that he would have brought these himself, had it +been possible. Here is the list, and I shall be much obliged if you will +verify it before I go back." + +"Sit down." said Mr. Flint. + +Austen sat down, with the corner of the desk between them, while Mr. +Flint opened the boxes and began checking off the papers on the list. + +"How is your father this afternoon?" he asked, without looking up. + +"As well as can be expected," said Austen. + +"Of course nobody knew his condition but himself," Mr. Flint continued; +"but it was a great shock to me--when he resigned as my counsel three +days ago." + +Austen laid his forearm on the desk, and his hand closed. + +"He resigned three days ago?" he exclaimed. + +Mr. Flint was surprised, but concealed it. + +"I can understand, under the circumstances, how he has overlooked telling +you. His resignation takes effect to-day." + +Austen was silent a moment, while he strove to apply this fact to his +father's actions. + +"He waited until after the convention." + +"Exactly," said Mr. Flint, catching the implied accusation in Austen's +tone; "and needless to say, if I had been able to prevent his going, in +view of what happened on Monday night, I should have done so. As you +know, after his--accident, he went to the capital without informing any +one." + +"As a matter of honour," said Austen. + +Mr. Flint looked up from the papers, and regarded him narrowly, for the +tone in which this was spoken did not escape the president of the +Northeastern. He saw, in fact, that at the outset he had put a weapon +into Austen's hands. Hilary's resignation was a vindication of Austen's +attitude, an acknowledgment that the business and political practices of +his life had been wrong. + +What Austen really felt, when he had grasped the significance of that +fact, was relief--gratitude. A wave of renewed affection for his father +swept over him, of affection and pity and admiration, and for the instant +he forgot Mr. Flint. + +"As a matter of honour," Mr. Flint repeated. "Knowing he was ill, Mr. +Vane insisted upon going to that convention, even at the risk of his +life. It is a fitting close to a splendid career, and one that will not +soon be forgotten." + +Austen merely looked at Mr. Flint, who may have found the glance a trifle +disconcerting, for he turned to the papers again. + +"I repeat," he went on presently, "that this illness of Mr. Vane's is not +only a great loss to the Northeastern system, but a great blow to me +personally. I have been associated with him closely for more than a +quarter of a century, and I have never seen a lawyer of greater +integrity, clear-headedness, and sanity of view. He saw things as they +were, and he did as much to build up the business interests and the +prosperity of this State as any man I know of. He was true to his word, +and true to his friends." + +Still Austen did not reply. He continued to look at Mr. Flint, and Mr. +Flint continued to check the papers only more slowly. He had nearly +finished the first box. + +"A wave of political insanity, to put it mildly, seems to be sweeping +over this country," said the president of the Northeastern. "Men who +would paralyze and destroy the initiative of private enterprise, men who +themselves are ambitious, and either incapable or unsuccessful, have +sprung up; writers who have no conscience, whose one idea is to make +money out of a passing craze against honest capital, have aided them. +Disappointed and dangerous politicians who merely desire office and power +have lifted their voices in the hue and cry to fool the honest voter. I +am glad to say I believe that the worst of this madness and rascality is +over; that the common sense of the people of this country is too great to +be swept away by the methods of these self-seekers; that the ordinary man +is beginning to see that his bread and butter depends on the brain of the +officers who are trying honestly to conduct great enterprises for the +benefit of the average citizen. + +"We did not expect to escape in this State," Mr. Flint went on, raising +his head and meeting Austen's look; "the disease was too prevalent and too +catching for the weak-minded. We had our self-seekers who attempted to +bring ruin upon an institution which has done more for our population +than any other. I do not hesitate to speak of the Northeastern Railroads +as an institution, and as an institution which has been as +conscientiously and conservatively conducted as any in the country, and +with as scrupulous a regard for the welfare of all. Hilary Vane, as you +doubtless know, was largely responsible for this. My attention, as +president of all the roads, has been divided. Hilary Vane guarded the +interests in this State, and no man could have guarded them better. He +well deserves the thanks of future generations for the uncompromising +fight he made against such men and such methods. It has broken him down +at a time of life when he has earned repose, but he has the satisfaction +of knowing that he has won the battle for conservative American +principles, and that he has nominated a governor worthy of the traditions +of the State." + +And Mr. Flint started checking off the papers again. Had the occasion +been less serious, Austen could have smiled at Mr. Flint's ruse--so +characteristic of the tactics of the president of the Northeastern--of +putting him into a position where criticism of the Northeastern and its +practices would be criticism of his own father. As it was, he only set +his jaw more firmly, an expression indicative of contempt for such +tactics. He had not come there to be lectured out of the "Book of +Arguments" on the divine right of railroads to govern, but to see that +certain papers were delivered in safety. + +Had his purpose been deliberately to enter into a contest with Mr. Flint, +Austen could not have planned the early part of it any better than by +pursuing this policy of silence. To a man of Mr. Flint's temperament and +training, it was impossible to have such an opponent within reach without +attempting to hector him into an acknowledgment of the weakness of his +position. Further than this, Austen had touched him too often on the +quick merely to be considered in the light of a young man who held +opposite and unfortunate views--although it was Mr. Flint's endeavour to +put him in this light. The list of injuries was too fresh in Mr. Flint's +mind--even that last conversation with Victoria, in which she had made it +plain that her sympathies were with Austen. + +But with an opponent who would not be led into ambush, who had the +strength to hold his fire under provocation, it was no easy matter to +maintain a height of conscious, matter-of-fact rectitude and implied +reproof. Austen's silence, Austen's attitude, declared louder than words +the contempt for such manoeuvres of a man who knows he is in the right-- +and knows that his adversary knows it. It was this silence and this +attitude which proclaimed itself that angered Mr. Flint, yet made him +warily conceal his anger and change his attack. + +"It is some years since we met, Mr. Vane," he remarked presently. + +Austen's face relaxed into something of a smile. + +"Four, I think," he answered. + +"You hadn't long been back from that Western experience. Well, your +father has one decided consolation; you have fulfilled his hope that you +would settle down here and practise in the State. And I hear that you +are fast forging to the front. You are counsel for the Gaylord Company, +I believe." + +"The result of an unfortunate accident," said Austen; "Mr. Hammer died." + +"And on the occasion when you did me the honour to call on me," said Mr. +Flint, "if I remember rightly, you expressed some rather radical views-- +for the son of Hilary Vane." + +"For the son of Hilary Vane," Austen agreed, with a smile. + +Mr. Flint ignored the implication in the repetition. + +"Thinking as mach as I do of Mr. Vane, I confess that your views at that +time rather disturbed me. It is a matter of relief to learn that you +have refused to lend yourself to the schemes of men like our neighbour, +Mr. Humphrey Crewe, of Leith." + +"Honesty compels me to admit," answered Austen, "that I did not refrain +on Mr. Crewe's account." + +"Although," said Mr. Flint, drumming on the table, "there was some talk +that you were to be brought forward as a dark horse in the convention, +and as a candidate unfriendly to the interests of the Northeastern +Railroads, I am glad you did not consent to be put in any such position. +I perceive that a young man of your ability and--popularity, a Vane of +Camden Street, must inevitably become a force in this State. And as a +force, you must retain the conservatism of the Vanes--the traditional +conservatism of the State. The Northeastern Railroads will continue to +be a very large factor in the life of the people after you and I are +gone, Mr. Vane. You will have to live, as it were, with that +corporation, and help to preserve it. We shall have to work together, +perhaps, to that end--who can say? I repeat, I am glad that your good +sense led you to refrain from coming as a candidate before that +Convention. There is time enough in the future, and you could not have +been nominated." + +"On the contrary," answered Austen, quietly, "I could have been +nominated." + +Mr. Flint smiled knowingly--but with an effort. What a relief it would +have been to him to charge horse and foot, to forget that he was a +railroad president dealing with a potential power. + +"Do you honestly believe that?" he asked. + +"I am not accustomed to dissemble my beliefs," said Austen, gravely. +"The fact that my father had faith enough in me to count with certainty +on my refusal to go before the convention enabled him to win the +nomination for the candidate of your railroads." + +Mr. Flint continued to smile, but into his eyes had crept a gleam of +anger. + +"It is easy to say such things--after the convention," he remarked. + +"And it would have been impossible to say their before," Austen responded +instantly, with a light in his own eyes. "My nomination was the only +disturbing factor in the situation for you and the politicians who had +your interests in hand, and it was as inevitable as night and day that +the forces of the candidates who represented the two wings of the machine +of the Northeastern Railroads should have united against Mr. Crewe. I +want to say to you frankly that if my father had not been the counsel for +your corporation, and responsible for its political success, or if he +could have resigned with honour before the convention, I should not have +refused to let my name go in. After all," he added, in a lower tone, and +with a slight gesture characteristic of him when a subject was +distasteful, "it doesn't matter who is elected governor this autumn." + +"What?" cried Mr. Flint, surprised out of his attitude as much by +Austen's manner as by Austen's words. + +"It doesn't matter," said Austen, "whether the Northeastern Railroads +have succeeded this time in nominating and electing a governor to whom +they can dictate, and who will reappoint railroad commissioners and other +State officials in their interests. The practices by which you have +controlled this State, Mr. Flint, and elected governors and councillors +and State and national senators are doomed. However necessary these +practices may have been from your point of view, they violated every +principle of free government, and were they to continue, the nation to +which we belong would inevitably decay and become the scorn of the world. +Those practices depended for their success on one condition,--which in +itself is the most serious of ills in a republic,--the ignorance and +disregard of the voter. You have but to read the signs of the times to +see clearly that the day of such conditions is past, to see that the +citizens of this State and this country are thinking for themselves, as +they should; are alive to the dangers and determined to avert it. You +may succeed in electing one more governor and one more senate, or two, +before the people are able to destroy the machinery you have built up and +repeal the laws you have made to sustain it. I repeat, it doesn't matter +in the long run. The era of political domination by a corporation, and +mainly for the benefit of a corporation, is over." + +Mr. Flint had been drumming on the desk, his face growing a darker red as +Austen proceeded: Never, since he had become president of the +Northeastern Railroads, had any man said such things to his face. And +the fact that Austen Vane had seemingly not spoken in wrath, although +forcefully enough to compel him to listen, had increased Mr. Flint's +anger. Austen apparently cared very little for him or his opinions in +comparison with his own estimate of right and wrong. + +"It seems," said Mr. Flint, "that you have grown more radical since your +last visit." + +"If it be radical to refuse to accept a pass from a railroad to bind my +liberty of action as an attorney and a citizen, then I am radical," +replied Austen. "If it be radical to maintain that the elected +representatives of the people should not receive passes, or be beholden +to any man or any corporation, I acknowledge the term. If it be radical +to declare that these representatives should be elected without +interference, and while in office should do exact justice to the body of +citizens on the one hand and the corporations on the other, I declare +myself a radical. But my radicalism goes back behind the establishment +of railroads, Mr. Flint, back to the foundation of this government, to +the idea from which it sprang." + +Mr. Flint smiled again. + +"We have changed materially since then," he said. "I am afraid such a +utopian state of affairs, beautiful as it is, will not work in the +twentieth century. It is a commercial age, and the interests which are +the bulwark of the country's strength must be protected." + +"Yes," said Austen, "we have changed materially. The mistake you make, +and men like you, is the stress which you lay on that word material. Are +there no such things as moral interests, Mr. Flint? And are they not +quite as important in government, if not more important, than material +interests? Surely, we cannot have commercial and political stability +without cominertial and political honour! if, as a nation, we lose sight +of the ideals which have carried us so far, which have so greatly +modified the conditions of other peoples than ourselves, we shall perish +as a force in the world. And if this government proves a failure, how +long do you think the material interests of which you are so solicitous +will endure? Or do you care whether they endure beyond your lifetime? +Perhaps not. But it is a matter of importance, not only to the nation, +but to the world, whether or not the moral idea of the United States of +America is perpetuated, I assure you." + +"I begin to fear, Mr. Vane," said the president of the Northeastern, +"that you have missed your vocation. Suppose I were to grant you, for +the sake of argument, that the Northeastern Railroads, being the largest +taxpayers in this State, have taken an interest in seeing that +conservative men fill responsible offices. Suppose such to be the case, +and we abruptly cease--to take such an interest. What then? Are we not +at the mercy of any and all unscrupulous men who build up a power of +their own, and start again the blackmail of the old days?" + +"You have put the case mildly," said Austen, and ingeniously. "As a +matter of fact, Mr. Flint, you know as well as I do that for years you +have governed this State absolutely, for the purpose of keeping down your +taxes, avoiding unnecessary improvements for safety and comfort, and +paying high dividends--" + +"Perhaps you realize that in depicting these criminal operations so +graphically," cried Mr. Flint, interrupting, "you are involving the +reputation of one of the best citizens the State ever had--your own +father." + +Austen Vane leaned forward across the desk, and even Mr. Flint (if the +truth were known) recoiled a little before the anger he had aroused. It +shot forth from Austen's eyes, proclaimed itself in the squareness of the +face, and vibrated in every word he spoke. + +"Mr. Flint," he said, "I refrain from comment upon your methods of +argument. There were many years in which my father believed the +practices which he followed in behalf of your railroad to be necessary-- +and hence justified. And I have given you the credit of holding the same +belief. Public opinion would not, perhaps, at that time have protected +your property from political blackmail. I merely wished you to know, Mr. +Flint, that there is no use in attempting to deceive me in regard to the +true colour of those practices. It is perhaps useless for me to add that +in my opinion you understand as well as I do the real reason for Mr. +Vane's resignation and illness. Once he became convinced that the +practices were wrong, he could no longer continue them without violating +his conscience. He kept his word to you--at the risk of his life, and, +as his son, I take a greater pride in him to-day than I ever have +before." + +Austen got to his feet. He was formidable even to Mr. Flint, who had met +many formidable, and angry men in his time--although not of this type. +Perhaps--who can say?--he was the in the mind of the president +unconscious embodiment of the Northeastern of the new forces which had +arisen against him,--forces which he knew in his secret soul he could not +combat, because they were the irresistible forces of things not material. +All his life he had met and successfully conquered forces of another +kind, and put down with a strong hand merely physical encroachments. + +Mr. Flint's nature was not an introspective one, and if he had tried, he +could not have accounted for his feelings. He was angry--that was +certain. But he measured the six feet and more of Austen Vane with his +eye, and in spite of himself experienced the compelled admiration of one +fighting man for another. A thought, which had made itself vaguely felt +at intervals in the past half hour, shot suddenly and poignantly through +Mr. Flint's mind what if this young man, who dared in spite of every +interest to oppose him, should in the apparently inevitable trend of +things, become...? + +Mr. Flint rose and went to the window, where he stood silent for a space, +looking out, played upon by unwonted conflicting thoughts and emotions. +At length, with a characteristic snap of the fingers, he turned abruptly. +Austen Vane was still standing beside the desk. His face was still +square, determined, but Mr. Flint noted curiously that the anger was gone +from his eyes, and that another--although equally human--expression had +taken its place,--a more disturbing expression, to Mr. Flint. + +"It appears, Mr. Vane," he said, gathering up the papers and placing them +in the boxes, "it appears that we are able to agree upon one point, at +least--Hilary Vane." + +"Mr. Flint," said Austen, "I did not come up here with any thought of +arguing with you, of intruding any ideas--I may hold, but you have +yourself asked me one question which I feel bound to answer to the best +of my ability before I go. You have asked me what, in my opinion, would +happen if you ceased--as you express it--to take an interest in the +political, affairs of this State. + +"I believe, as firmly as I stand here, that the public opinion which +exists to-day would protect your property, and I base that belief on the +good sense of the average American voter. The public would protect you +not only in its own interests, but from an inherent sense of fair play. +On the other hand, if you persist in a course of political manipulation +which is not only obsolete but wrong, you will magnify the just charges +against you, and the just wrath; you will put ammunition into the hands +of the agitators you rightly condemn. The stockholders of your +corporation, perhaps, are bound to suffer some from the fact that you +have taken its life-blood to pay dividends, and the public will demand +that it be built up into a normal and healthy condition. On the other +hand, it could not have gone on as it was. But the corporation will +suffer much more if a delayed justice is turned into vengeance. + +"You ask me what I could do. I should recognize, frankly, the new +conditions, and declare as frankly what the old ones were, and why such +methods of defence as you adopted were necessary and justified. I should +announce, openly, that from this day onward the Northeastern Railroads +depended for fair play on an enlightened public--and I think your trust +would be well founded, and your course vindicated. I should declare, +from this day onward, that the issue of political passes, newspaper +passes, and all other subterfuges would be stopped, and that all +political hirelings would be dismissed. I should appeal to the people of +this State to raise up political leaders who would say to the +corporations, 'We will protect you from injustice if you will come before +the elected representatives of the people, openly, and say what you want +and why you want it.' By such a course you would have, in a day, the +affection of the people instead of their distrust. They would rally to +your defence. And, more than that, you would have done a service for +American government the value of which cannot well be estimated." + +Mr. Flint rang the bell on his desk, and his secretary appeared. + +"Put these in my private safe, Mr. Freeman," he said. + +Mr. Freeman took the boxes, glanced curiously at Austen, and went out. +It was the same secretary, Austen recalled, who had congratulated him +four years before. Then Mr. Flint laid his hand deliberately on the +desk, and smiled slightly as he turned to Austen. + +"If you had run a railroad as long as I have, Mr. Vane," he said, "I do +you the credit of thinking that you would have intelligence enough to +grasp other factors which your present opportunities for observation have +not permitted you to perceive. Nevertheless, I am much obliged to you +for your opinion, and I value the--frankness in which it was given. And +I shall hope to hear good news of your father. Remember me to him, and +tell him how deeply I feel his affliction. I shall call again in a day +or two." + +Austen took up his hat. + +"Good day, Mr. Flint," he said; "I will tell him." + +By the time he had reached the door, Mr. Flint had gone back to the +window once more, and appeared to have forgotten his presence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE VALE OF THE BLUE + +Austen himself could not well have defined his mental state as he made +his way through the big rooms towards the door, but he was aware of one +main desire--to escape from Fairview. With the odours of the flowers in +the tall silver vases on the piano--her piano!--the spirit of desire +which had so long possessed him, waking and sleeping, returned,--returned +to torture him now with greater skill amidst these her possessions; her +volume of Chopin on the rack, bound in red leather and stamped with her +initials, which compelled his glance as he passed, and brought vivid to +his memory the night he had stood in the snow and heard her playing. So, +he told himself, it must always be, for him to stand in the snow +listening. + +He reached the hall, with a vast relief perceived that it was empty, and +opened the door and went out. Strange that he should note, first of all, +as he parsed a moment at the top of the steps, that the very day had +changed. The wind had fallen; the sun, well on his course towards the +rim of western hills, poured the golden light of autumn over field and +forest, while Sawanec was already in the blue shadow; the expectant +stillness of autumn reigned, and all unconsciously Austen's blood was +quickened though a quickening of pain. + +The surprise of the instant over, he noticed that his horse was gone,-- +had evidently been taken to the stables. And rather than ring the bell +and wait in the mood in which he found himself, he took the path through +the shrubbery from which he had seen the groom emerge. + +It turned beyond the corner of the house, descended a flight of stone +steps, and turned again. + +They stood gazing each at the other for a space of time not to be +computed before either spoke, and the sense of unreality which comes with +a sudden fulfilment of intense desire--or dread--was upon Austen. Could +this indeed be her figure, and this her face on which he watched the +colour rise (so he remembered afterwards) like the slow flood of day? +Were there so many Victorias, that a new one--and a strange one--should +confront him at every meeting? And, even while he looked, this Victoria, +too,--one who had been near him and departed,--was surveying him now from +an unapproachable height of self-possession and calm. She held out her +hand, and he took it, scarce knowing--that it was hers. + +"How do you do, Mr. Vane?" she said; "I did not expect to meet you here." + +"I was searching for the stable, to get my horse," he answered lamely. + +"And your father?" she asked quickly; "I hope he is not--worse." + +It was thus she supplied him, quite naturally, with an excuse for being +at Fairview. And yet her solicitude for Hilary was wholly unaffected. + +"Dr. Harmon, who came from New York, has been more encouraging than I had +dared to hope," said Austen. "And, by the way, Mr. Vane believes that +you had a share in the fruit and flowers which Mr. Flint so kindly +brought. If--he had known that I were to see you, I am sure he would +have wished me to thank you." + +Victoria turned, and tore a leaf from the spiraea. + +"I will show you where the stables are," she said; "the path divides a +little farther on--and you might find yourself in the kitchen." + +Austen smiled, and as she went on slowly, he followed her, the path not +being wide enough for them to walk abreast, his eyes caressing the stray +hairs that clustered about her neck and caught the light. It seemed so +real, and yet so unrealizable, that he should be here with her. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that I did not express my gratitude as I should +have done the evening you were good enough to come up to Jabe Jenney's." + +He saw her colour rise again, but she did not pause. + +"Please don't say anything about it, Mr. Vane. Of course I understand +how you felt," she cried. + +"Neither my father nor myself will forget that service," said Austen. + +"It was nothing," answered Victoria, in a low voice. "Or, rather, it was +something I shall always be glad that I did not miss. I have seen Mr. +Vane all my life, but I never=-never really knew him until that day. I +have come to the conclusion," she added, in a lighter tone, "that the +young are not always the best judges of the old. There," she added, "is +the path that goes to the kitchen, which you probably would have taken." + +He laughed. Past and future were blotted out, and he lived only in the +present. He could think of nothing but that she was here beside him. +Afterwards, cataclysms might come and welcome. + +"Isn't there another place," he asked, "where I might lose my way?" + +She turned and gave him one of the swift, searching looks he recalled so +well: a look the meaning of which he could not declare, save that she +seemed vainly striving to fathom something in him--as though he were not +fathomable! He thought she smiled a little as she took the left-hand +path. + +"You will remember me to your father?" she said. "I hope he is not +suffering." + +"He is not suffering," Austen replied. "Perhaps--if it were not too much +to ask--perhaps you might come to see him, sometime? I can think of +nothing that would give him greater pleasure." + +"I will come--sometime," she answered. "I am going away to-morrow, but--" + +"Away?" he repeated, in dismay. Now that he was beside her, all +unconsciously the dominating male spirit which was so strong in him, and +which moves not woman alone, but the world, was asserting itself. For +the moment he was the only man, and she the only woman, in the universe. + +"I am going on a promised visit to a friend of mine." + +"For how long?" he demanded. + +"I don't know, said Victoria, calmly; probably until she gets tired of +me. And there," she added, "are the stables, where no doubt you will +find your faithful Pepper." + +They had come out upon an elevation above the hard service drive, and +across it, below them, was the coach house with its clock-tower and +weather-vane, and its two wings, enclosing a paved court where a +whistling stable-boy was washing a carriage. Austen regarded this scene +an instant, and glanced back at her profile. It was expressionless. + +"Might I not linger--a few minutes?" he asked. + +Her lips parted slightly in a smile, and she turned her head. How +wonderfully, he thought, it was poised upon her shoulders. + +"I haven't been very hospitable, have I?" she said. But then, you seemed +in such a hurry to go, didn't you? You were walking so fast when I met +you that you quite frightened me." + +"Was I?" asked Austen, in surprise. + +She laughed. + +"You looked as if you were ready to charge somebody. But this isn't a +very nice place--to linger, and if you really will stay awhile," said +Victoria, "we might walk over to the dairy, where that model protege of +yours, Eben Fitch, whom you once threatened with corporal chastisement if +he fell from grace, is engaged. I know he will be glad to see you." + +Austen laughed as he caught up with her. She was already halfway across +the road. + +"Do you always beat people if they do wrong?" she asked. + +"It was Eben who requested it, if I remember rightly," he said. +"Fortunately, the trial has not yet arrived. Your methods," he added, +"seem to be more successful with Eben." + +They went down the grassy slope with its groups of half-grown trees; +through an orchard shot with slanting, yellow sunlight,--the golden +fruit, harvested by the morning winds, littering the ground; and then by +a gate into a dimpled, emerald pasture slope where the Guernseys were +feeding along a water run. They spoke of trivial things that found no +place in Austen's memory, and at times, upon one pretext or another, he +fell behind a little that he might feast his eyes upon her. + +Eben was not at the dairy, and Austen betraying no undue curiosity as to +his whereabouts, they walked on up the slopes, and still upward towards +the crest of the range of hills that marked the course of the Blue. He +did not allow his mind to dwell upon this new footing they were on, but +clung to it. Before, in those delicious moments with her, seemingly +pilfered from the angry gods, the sense of intimacy had been deep; deep, +because robbing the gods together, they had shared the feeling of guilt, +had known that retribution would coma. And now the gods had locked their +treasure-chest, although themselves powerless to redeem from him the +memory of what he had gained. Nor could they, apparently, deprive him of +the vision of her in the fields and woods beside him, though transformed +by their magic into a new Victoria, keeping him lightly and easily at a +distance. + +Scattering the sheep that flecked the velvet turf of the uplands, they +stood at length on the granite crown of the crest itself. Far below them +wound the Blue into its vale of sapphire shadows, with its hillsides of +the mystic fabric of the backgrounds of the masters of the Renaissance. +For a while they stood in silence under the spell of the scene's +enchantment, and then Victoria seated herself on the rock, and he dropped +to a place at her side. + +"I thought you would like the view," she said; "but perhaps you have been +here, perhaps I am taking you to one of your own possessions." + +He had flung his hat upon the rock, and she glanced at his serious, +sunburned face. His eyes were still fixed, contemplatively, on the Yale +of the Blue, but he turned to her with a smile. + +"It has become yours by right of conquest," he answered. + +She did not reply to that. The immobility of her face, save for the one +look she had flashed upon him, surprised and puzzled him more and more-- +the world--old, indefinable, eternal feminine quality of the Spring. + +"So you refused to be governor? she said presently,--surprising him +again. + +"It scarcely came to that," he replied. + +"What did it come to?" she demanded. + +He hesitated. + +"I had to go down to the capital, on my father's account, but I did not +go to the convention. I stayed," he said slowly, "at the little cottage +across from the Duncan house where--you were last winter." He paused, +but she gave no sign. "Tom Gaylord came up there late in the afternoon, +and wanted me to be a candidate." + +"And you refused?" + +"Yes." + +"But you could have been nominated!" + +"Yes," he admitted; "it is probable. The conditions were chaotic." + +"Are you sure you have done right?" she asked. "It has always seemed to +me from what I know and have heard of you that you were made for +positions of trust. You would have been a better governor than the man +they have nominated." + +His expression became set. + +"I am sure I have done right," he answered deliberately. "It doesn't +make any difference who is governor this time." + +"Doesn't make any difference!" she exclaimed. + +"No," he said. "Things have changed--the people have changed. The old +method of politics, which was wrong, although it had some justification +in conditions, has gone out. A new and more desirable state of affairs +has come. I am at liberty to say this much to you now," he added, fixing +his glance upon her, "because my father has resigned as counsel for the +Northeastern, and I have just had a talk with--Mr. Flint." + +"You have seen my father?" she asked, in a low voice, and her face was +averted. + +"Yes," he answered. + +"You--did not agree," she said quickly. + +His blood beat higher at the question and the manner of her asking it, +but he felt that he must answer it honestly, unequivocally, whatever the +cost. + +"No, we did not agree. It is only fair to tell you that we differed-- +vitally. On the other hand, it is just that you should know that we did +not part in anger, but, I think, with a mutual respect." + +She drew breath. + +"I knew," she said, "I knew if he could but talk to you he would +understand that you were sincere--and you have proved it. I am glad--I +am glad that you saw him." The quality of the sunlight changed, the very +hills leaped, and the river sparkled. Could she care? Why did she wish +her father to know that he was sincere. + +"You are glad that I saw him!" he repeated. + +But she met his glance steadily. + +"My father has so little faith in human nature," she answered. "He has +a faculty of doubting the honesty of his opponents--I suppose because so +many of them have been dishonest. And--I believe in my friends," she +added, smiling. "Isn't it natural that I should wish to have my judgment +vindicated?" + +He got to his feet and walked slowly to the far edge of the rock, where +he stood for a while, seemingly gazing off across the spaces to Sawanec. +It was like him, thus to question the immutable. Victoria sat +motionless, but her eyes followed irresistibly the lines of power in the +tall figure against the sky--the breadth of shoulder and slimness of hip +and length of limb typical of the men who had conquered and held this +land for their descendants. Suddenly, with a characteristic movement of +determination; he swung about and came towards her, and at the same +instant she rose. + +"Don't you think we should be going back?" she said. + +Rut he seemed not to hear her. + +"May I ask you something?" he said. + +"That depends," she answered. + +"Are you going to marry Mr. Rangely?" + +"No," she said, and turned away. "Why did you think that?" + +He quivered. + +"Victoria!" + +She looked up at him, swiftly, half revealed, her eyes like stars +surprised by the flush of dawn in her cheeks. Hope quickened at the +vision of hope, the seats of judgment themselves were filled with +radiance, and rumour, cowered and fled like the spirit of night. He +could only gaze, enraptured. + +"Yes?" she answered. + +His voice was firm but low, yet vibrant with sincerity, with the vast +store of feeling, of compelling magnetism that was in the man and moved +in spite of themselves those who knew him. His words Victoria remembered +afterwards--all of them; but it was to the call of the voice she +responded. His was the fibre which grows stronger in times of crisis. +Sure of himself, proud of the love which he declared, he spoke as a man +who has earned that for which he prays,--simply and with dignity. + +"I love you," he said; "I have known it since I have known you, but you +must see why I could not tell you so. It was very hard, for there were +times when I led myself to believe that you might come to love me. There +were times when I should have gone away if I hadn't made a promise to +stay in Ripton. I ask you to marry me, because I--know that I shall love +you as long as I live. I can give you this, at least, and I can promise +to protect and cherish you. I cannot give you that to which you have +been accustomed all your life, that which you have here at Fairview, but +I shouldn't say this to you if I believed that you cared for them above- +-other things." + +"Oh, Austen!" she cried, "I do not--I--do not! They would be hateful to +me--without you. I would rather live with you--at Jabe Jenney's," and +her voice caught in an exquisite note between laughter and tears. "I +love you, do you understand, you! Oh, how could you ever have doubted +it? How could you? What you believe, I believe. And, Austen, I have +been so unhappy for three days." + +He never knew whether, as the most precious of graces ever conferred upon +man, with a womanly gesture she had raised her arms and laid her hands +upon his shoulders before he drew her to him and kissed her face, that +vied in colour with the coming glow in the western sky. Above the prying +eyes of men, above the world itself, he held her, striving to realize +some little of the vast joy of this possession, and failing. And at last +she drew away from him, gently, that she might look searchingly into his +face again, and shook her head slowly. + +"And you were going away," she said, "without a word I thought--you +didn't care. How could I have known that you were just--stupid?" + +His eyes lighted with humour and tenderness. + +"How long have you cared, Victoria?" he asked. + +She became thoughtful. + +"Always, I think," she answered; "only I didn't know it. I think I loved +you even before I saw you." + +"Before you saw me!" + +"I think it began," said Victoria, "when I learned that you had shot Mr. +Blodgett--only I hope you will never do such a thing again. And you will +please try to remember," she added, after a moment, "that I am neither +Eben Fitch nor your friend, Tom Gaylord." + +Sunset found them seated on the rock, with the waters of the river turned +to wine at the miracle in the sky their miracle. At times their eyes +wandered to the mountain, which seemed to regard them from a discreet +distance--with a kindly and protecting majesty. + +"And you promised," said Victoria, "to take me up there. When will you +do it?" + +"I thought you were going away," he replied. + +"Unforeseen circumstances," she answered, "have compelled me to change my +plans." + +"Then we will go tomorrow," he said. + +"To the Delectable Land," said Victoria, dreamily; "your land, where we +shall be--benevolent despots. Austen?" + +"Yes?" He had not ceased to thrill at the sound of his name upon her +lips. + +"Do you think," she asked, glancing at him, "do you think you have money +enough to go abroad--just for a little while?" + +He laughed joyously. + +"I don't know," he said, "but I shall make it a point to examine my bank- +account to-night. I haven't done so--for some time." + +"We will go to Venice, and drift about in a gondola on one of those gray +days when the haze comes in from the Adriatic and touches the city with +the magic of the past. Sometimes I like the gray days best--when I am +happy. And then," she added, regarding him critically, "although you are +very near perfection, there are some things you ought to see and learn to +make your education complete. I will take you to all the queer places I +love. When you are ambassador to France, you know, it would be +humiliating to have to have an interpreter, wouldn't it?" + +"What's the use of both of us knowing the language?" he demanded. + +"I'm afraid we shall be--too happy," she sighed, presently. + +"Too happy!" he repeated. + +"I sometimes wonder," she said, "whether happiness and achievement go +together. And yet--I feel sure that you will achieve." + +"To please you, Victoria," he answered, "I think I should almost be +willing to try." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +P.S. + +By request of one who has read thus far, and is still curious. + +Yes, and another who, in spite of himself, has fallen in love with +Victoria and would like to linger a while longer, even though it were +with the paltry excuse of discussing that world-old question of hers--Can +sublime happiness and achievement go together? Novels on the problem of +sex nowadays often begin with marriages, but rarely discuss the happy +ones; and many a woman is forced to sit wistfully at home while her +companion soars. + + "Yet may I look with heart unshook + On blow brought home or missed-- + Yet may I hear with equal ear + The clarions down the List; + Yet set my lance above mischance + And ride the barriere-- + Oh, hit or miss, how little 'tis, + My Lady is not there!" + +A verse, in this connection, which may be a perversion of Mr. Kipling's +meaning, but not so far from it, after all. And yet, would the eagle +attempt the great flights if contentment were on the plain? Find the +mainspring of achievement, and you hold in your hand the secret of the +world's mechanism. Some aver that it is woman. + +Do the gods ever confer the rarest of gifts upon him to whom they have +given pinions? Do they mate him, ever, with another who soars as high as +he, who circles higher that he may circle higher still? Who can answer? +Must those who soar be condemned to eternal loneliness, and was it a +longing they did not comprehend which bade them stretch their wings +toward the sun? Who can say? + +Alas, we cannot write of the future of Austen and Victoria Vane! We can +only surmise, and hope, and pray,--yes, and believe. Romance walks with +parted lips and head raised to the sky; and let us follow her, because +thereby our eyes are raised with hers. We must believe, or perish. + +Postscripts are not fashionable. The satiated theatre goer leaves before +the end of the play, and has worked out the problem for himself long +before the end of the last act. Sentiment is not supposed to exist in +the orchestra seats. But above (in many senses) is the gallery, from +whence an excited voice cries out when the sleeper returns to life, "It's +Rip Van Winkle!" The gallery, where are the human passions which make +this world our world; the gallery, played upon by anger, vengeance, +derision, triumph, hate, and love; the gallery, which lingers and +applauds long after the fifth curtain, and then goes reluctantly home--to +dream. And he who scorns the gallery is no artist, for there lives the +soul of art. We raise our eyes to it, and to it we dedicate this our +play;--and for it we lift the curtain once more after those in the +orchestra have departed. + +It is obviously impossible, in a few words, to depict the excitement in +Ripton, in Leith, in the State at large, when it became known that the +daughter of Mr. Flint was to marry Austen Vane,--a fitting if unexpected +climax to a drama. How would Mr. Flint take it? Mr. Flint, it may be +said, took it philosophically; and when Austen went up to see him upon +this matter, he shook hands with his future son-in-law,--and they agreed +to disagree. And beyond this it is safe to say that Mr. +Flint was relieved; for in his secret soul he had for many years +entertained a dread that Victoria might marry a foreigner. He had this +consolation at any rate. + +His wife denied herself for a day to her most intimate friends,--for it +was she who had entertained visions of a title; and it was characteristic +of the Rose of Sharon that she knew nothing of the Vanes beyond the name. +The discovery that the Austens were the oldest family in the State was in +the nature of a balm; and henceforth, in speaking of Austen, she never +failed to mention the fact that his great-grandfather was Minister to +Spain in the '30's,--a period when her own was engaged in a far different +calling. + +And Hilary Vane received the news with a grim satisfaction, Dr. Tredway +believing that it had done more for him than any medicine or specialists. +And when, one warm October day, Victoria herself came and sat beside the +canopied bed, her conquest was complete: he surrendered to her as he had +never before surrendered to man or woman or child, and the desire to live +surged back into his heart,--the desire to live for Austen and Victoria. +It became her custom to drive to Ripton in the autumn mornings and to sit +by the hour reading to Hilary in the mellow sunlight in the lee of the +house, near Sarah Austen's little garden. Yes, Victoria believed she had +developed in him a taste for reading; although he would have listened to +Emerson from her lips. + +And sometimes, when she paused after one of his long silences to glance +at him, she would see his eyes fixed, with a strange rapt look, on the +garden or the dim lavender form of Sawanec through the haze, and knew +that he was thinking of a priceless thing which he had once possessed, +and missed. Then Victoria would close the volume, and fall to dreaming, +too. + +What was happiness? Was it contentment? If it were, it might endure,-- +contentment being passive. But could active, aggressive, exultant joy +exist for a lifetime, jealous of its least prerogative, perpetually +watchful for its least abatement, singing unending anthems on its +conquest of the world? The very intensity of her feelings at such times +sobered Victoria--alarmed her. Was not perfection at war with the +world's scheme, and did not achievement spring from a void? + +But when Austen appeared, with Pepper, to drive her home to Fairview, his +presence never failed to revive the fierce faith that it was his destiny +to make the world better, and hers to help him. Wondrous afternoons they +spent together in that stillest and most mysterious of seasons in the +hill country--autumn! Autumn and happiness! Happiness as shameless as +the flaunting scarlet maples on the slopes, defiant of the dying year of +the future, shadowy and unreal as the hills before them in the haze. +Once, after a long silence, she started from a revery with the sudden +consciousness of his look intent upon her, and turned with parted lips +and eyes which smiled at him out of troubled depths. + +"Dreaming, Victoria?" he said. + +"Yes," she answered simply, and was silent once more. He loved these +silences of hers,--hinting, as they did, of unexplored chambers in an +inexhaustible treasure-house which by some strange stroke of destiny was +his. And yet he felt at times the vague sadness of them, like the +sadness of the autumn, and longed to dispel it. + +"It is so wonderful," she went on presently, in a low voice, "it is so +wonderful I sometimes think that it must be like--like this; that it +cannot last. I have been wondering whether we shall be as happy when the +world discovers that you are great." + +He shook his head at her slowly, in mild reproof. + +"Isn't that borrowing trouble, Victoria?" he said. "I think you need +have no fear of finding the world as discerning as yourself." + +She searched his face. + +"Will you ever change?" she asked. + +"Yes," he said. "No man can stand such flattery as that without +deteriorating, I warn you. I shall become consequential, and pompous, +and altogether insupportable, and then you will leave me and never +realize that it has been all your fault." + +Victoria laughed. But there was a little tremor in her voice, and her +eyes still rested on his face. + +"But I am serious, Austen," she said. "I sometimes feel that, in the +future, we shall not always have many such days as these. It's selfish, +but I can't help it. There are so many things you will have to do +without me. Don't you ever think of that?" + +His eyes grew grave, and he reached out and took her hand in his. + +"I think, rather, of the trials life may bring, Victoria," he answered, +"of the hours when judgment halts, when the way is not clear. Do you +remember the last night you came to Jabe Jenney's? I stood in the road +long after you had gone, and a desolation such as I had never known came +over me. I went in at last, and opened a book to some verses I had been +reading, which I shall never forget. Shall I tell you what they were?" + +"Yes," she whispered. + +"They contain my answer to your question," he said. + + "What became of all the hopes, + Words and song and lute as well? + Say, this struck you 'When life gropes + Feebly for the path where fell + Light last on the evening slopes, + + "'One friend in that path shall be, + To secure my step from wrong; + One to count night day for me, + Patient through the watches long, + Serving most with none to see.'" + +"Victoria, can you guess who that friend is?" + +She pressed his hand and smiled at him, but her eyes were wet. + +"I have thought of it in that way, too, dear. But--but I did not know +that you had. I do not think that many men have that point of view, +Austen." + +"Many men," he answered, "have not the same reason to be thankful as I." + +There is a time, when the first sharp winds which fill the air with +flying leaves have come and gone, when the stillness has come again, and +the sunlight is tinged with a yellower gold, and the pastures are still a +vivid green, and the mountain stained with a deeper blue than any gem, +called Indian summer. And it was in this season that Victoria and Austen +were married, in a little church at Tunbridge, near Fairview, by the +bishop of the diocese, who was one of Victoria's dearest friends. Mr. +Thomas Gaylord (for whose benefit there were many rehearsals) was best +man, Miss Beatrice Chillingham maid of honour; and it was unanimously +declared by Victoria's bridesmaids, who came up from New York, that they +had fallen in love with the groom. + +How describe the wedding breakfast and festivities at Fairview House, on +a November day when young ladies could walk about the lawns in the +filmiest of gowns! how recount the guests and leave out no friends--for +none were left out! Mr. Jabe Jenney and Mrs. Jenney, who wept as she +embraced both bride and groom; and Euphrasia, in a new steel-coloured +silk and a state of absolute subjection and incredulous happiness. Would +that there were time to chronicle that most amazing of conquests of +Victoria over Euphrasia! And Mrs. Pomfret, who, remarkable as it may +seem, not only recognized Austen without her lorgnette, but quite +overwhelmed him with an unexpected cordiality, and declared her intention +of giving them a dinner in New York. + +"My dear," she said, after kissing Victoria twice, "he is most +distinguished-looking--I had no idea--and a person who grows upon one. +And I am told he is descended from Channing Austen, of whom I have often +heard my grandfather speak. Victoria, I always had the greatest +confidence in your judgment." + +Although Victoria had a memory (what woman worth her salt has not?), she +was far too happy to remind Mrs. Pomfret of certain former occasions, and +merely smiled in a manner which that lady declared to be enigmatic. She +maintained that she had never understood Victoria, and it was +characteristic of Mrs. Pomfret that her respect increased in direct +proportion to her lack of understanding. + +Mr. Thomas Gaylord, in a waistcoat which was the admiration of all who +beheld it, proposed the health of the bride; and proved indubitably that +the best of oratory has its origin in the heart and not in the mind,--for +Tom had never been regarded by his friends as a Demosthenes. He was +interrupted from time to time by shouts of laughter; certain episodes in +the early career of Mr. Austen Vane (in which, if Tom was to be believed, +he was an unwilling participant) were particularly appreciated. And +shortly after that, amidst a shower of miscellaneous articles and rice, +Mr. and Mrs. Vane took their departure. + +They drove through the yellow sunlight to Ripton, with lingering looks at +the hills which brought back memories of boys and sorrows, and in Hanover +Street bade good-by to Hilary Vane. A new and strange contentment shone +in his face as he took Victoria's hands in his, and they sat with him +until Euphrasia came. It was not until they were well on their way to +New York that they opened the letter he had given them, and discovered +that it contained something which would have enabled them to remain in +Europe the rest of their lives had they so chosen. + +We must leave them amongst the sunny ruins of Italy and Greece and +southern France, on a marvellous journey that was personally conducted by +Victoria. + +Mr. Crewe was unable to go to the wedding, having to attend a directors' +meeting of some importance in the West. He is still in politics, and +still hopeful; and he was married, not long afterwards, to Miss Alice +Pomfret. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Gratitude, however, is one of the noblest qualities of man +One of your persistent fallacies is, that I'm still a boy +The burden of the valley of vision +Thrice-blessed State, in which there were now three reform candidates +Years of regrets for that which might have been + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Mr. Crewe's Career, V3 +by Winston Churchill + diff --git a/old/wc08v11.zip b/old/wc08v11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..99411a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wc08v11.zip |