diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/wc18v11.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/wc18v11.txt | 20125 |
1 files changed, 20125 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/wc18v11.txt b/old/wc18v11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ac07c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wc18v11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,20125 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Coniston, by Churchill, Complete +#18 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. The words +are carefully chosen to provide users with the information they +need about what they can legally do with the texts. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These Etexts Are Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below, including for donations. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3) +organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541 + + + +Title: Coniston by Winston Churchill, Complete + +Author: Winston Churchill (a cousin of Sir Winston Churchill) + +Official Release Date: February, 2003 [Etext #3766] +[Yes, we are about one year ahead of schedule] +[The actual date this file first posted = 08/14/01] +[Last modified date = 11/07/01] + +Edition: 11 + +Language: English + +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Coniston by Churchill, Complete +*****This file should be named wc18v11.txt or wc18v11.zip***** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, wc18v12.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, wc18v11a.txt + +This etext was produced by Pat Castevans <Patcat@ctnet.net> +and David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions, +all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a +copyright notice is included. Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any +of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our books one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to send us error messages even years after +the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our sites at: +http://gutenberg.net +http://promo.net/pg + + +Those of you who want to download any Etext before announcement +can surf to them as follows, and just download by date; this is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 +or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release fifty new Etext +files per month, or 500 more Etexts in 2000 for a total of 3000+ +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +should reach over 300 billion Etexts given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 4,000 Etexts unless we +manage to get some real funding. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of 10/28/01 contributions are only being solicited from people in: +Alabama, Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, +Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Michigan, +Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, +New York, North Carolina, South Carolina, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, +Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, +Virginia, Washington, Wisconsin, and Wyoming + +We have filed in about 45 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, +additions to this list will be made and fund raising +will begin in the additional states. Please feel +free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork +to legally request donations in all 50 states. If +your state is not listed and you would like to know +if we have added it since the list you have, just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in +states where we are not yet registered, we know +of no prohibition against accepting donations +from donors in these states who approach us with +an offer to donate. + + +International donations are accepted, +but we don't know ANYTHING about how +to make them tax-deductible, or +even if they CAN be made deductible, +and don't have the staff to handle it +even if there are ways. + +All donations should be made to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3) +organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541, +and has been approved as a 501(c)(3) organization by the US Internal +Revenue Service (IRS). Donations are tax-deductible to the maximum +extent permitted by law. As the requirements for other states are met, +additions to this list will be made and fund raising will begin in the +additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org +if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if +it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . . + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +*** + + +Example command-line FTP session: + +ftp ftp.ibiblio.org +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg +cd etext90 through etext99 or etext00 through etext02, etc. +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99] +GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books] + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etexts, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this etext, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the etext, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. 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.] + + + + + +CONISTON + +By WINSTON CHURCHILL + + + + "We have been compelled to see what was weak in democracy as well as + what was strong. We have begun obscurely to recognize that things + do not go of themselves, and that popular government is not in + itself a panacea, is no better than any other form except as the + virtue and wisdom of the people make it so, and that when men + undertake to do their own kingship, they enter upon, the dangers and + responsibilities as well as the privileges of the function. Above + all, it looks as if we were on the way to be persuaded that no + government can be carried on by declamation." + + --JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. + + + + +CONISTON + + +BOOK I + +CHAPTER I + +First I am to write a love-story of long ago, of a time some little while +after General Jackson had got into the White House and had shown the +world what a real democracy was. The Era of the first six Presidents had +closed, and a new Era had begun. I am speaking of political Eras. +Certain gentlemen, with a pious belief in democracy, but with a firmer +determination to get on top, arose,--and got in top. So many of these +gentlemen arose in the different states, and they were so clever, and +they found so many chinks in the Constitution to crawl through and steal +the people's chestnuts, that the Era may be called the Boss-Era. After +the Boss came along certain Things without souls, but of many minds, and +found more chinks in the Constitution: bigger chinks, for the Things were +bigger, and they stole more chestnuts. But I am getting far ahead of my +love-story--and of my book. + +The reader is warned that this first love-story will, in a few chapters, +come to an end: and not to a happy end--otherwise there would be no book. +Lest he should throw the book away when he arrives at this page, it is +only fair to tell him that there is another and a much longer love story +later on, if he will only continue to read, in which, it is hoped, he may +not be disappointed. + +The hills seem to leap up against the sky as I describe that region where +Cynthia Ware was born, and the very old country names help to summon up +the picture. Coniston Mountain, called by some the Blue Mountain, clad +in Hercynian forests, ten good miles in length, north and south, with its +notch road that winds over the saddle behind the withers of it. Coniston +Water, that oozes out from under the loam in a hundred places, on the +eastern slope, gathers into a rushing stream to cleave the very granite, +flows southward around the south end of Coniston Mountain, and having +turned the mills at Brampton, idles through meadows westward in its own +green valley until it comes to Harwich, where it works again and tumbles +into a river. Brampton and Harwich are rivals, but Coniston Water gives +of its power impartially to each. From the little farm clearings on the +western slope of Coniston Mountain you can sweep the broad valley of a +certain broad river where grew (and grow still) the giant pines that gave +many a mast to King George's navy as tribute for the land. And beyond +that river rises beautiful Farewell Mountain of many colors, now +sapphire, now amethyst, its crest rimmed about at evening with saffron +flame; and, beyond Farewell, the emerald billows of the western peaks +catching the level light. A dozen little brooks are born high among the +western spruces on Coniston to score deep, cool valleys in their way +through Clovelly township to the broad music of the water and fresh +river-valleys full of the music of the water and fresh with the odor of +the ferns. + +To this day the railroad has not reached Coniston Village--nay, nor +Coniston Flat, four miles nearer Brampton. The village lies on its own +little shelf under the forest-clad slope of the mountain, and in the +midst of its dozen houses is the green triangle where the militia used to +drill on June days. At one end of the triangle is the great pine mast +that graced no frigate of George's, but flew the stars and stripes on +many a liberty day. Across the road is Jonah Winch's store, with a +platform so high that a man may step off his horse directly on to it; +with its checker-paned windows, with its dark interior smelling of coffee +and apples and molasses, yes, and of Endea rum--for this was before the +days of the revivals. + +How those checker-paned windows bring back the picture of that village +green! The meeting-house has them, lantern-like, wide and high, in three +sashes--white meeting-house, seat alike of government and religion, with +its terraced steeple, with its classic porches north and south. Behind +it is the long shed, and in front, rising out of the milkweed and the +flowering thistle, the horse block of the first meeting-house, where many +a pillion has left its burden in times bygone. Honest Jock Hallowell +built that second meeting-house--was, indeed, still building it at the +time of which we write. He had hewn every beam and king post in it, and +set every plate and slip. And Jock Hallowell is the man who, unwittingly +starts this chronicle. + +At noon, on one of those madcap April days of that Coniston country, Jock +descended from his work on the steeple to perceive the ungainly figure of +Jethro Bass coming toward him across the green. Jethro was about thirty +years of age, and he wore a coonskin cap even in those days, and trousers +tacked into his boots. He carried his big head bent forward, a little to +one aide, and was not, at first sight, a prepossessing-looking person. +As our story largely concerns him and we must get started somehow, it may +as well be to fix a little attention on him. + +"Heigho!" said Jock, rubbing his hands on his leather apron. + +"H-how be you, Jock?" said Jethro, stopping. + +"Heigho!" cried Jock, "what's this game of fox and geese you're a-playin' +among the farmers?" + +"C-callate to git the steeple done before frost?" inquired Jethro, +without so much as a smile. "B-build it tight, Jock--b-build it tight." + +"Guess he'll build his'n tight, whatever it is," said Jock, looking after +him as Jethro made his way to the little tannery near by. + +Let it be known that there was such a thing as social rank in Coniston; +and something which, for the sake of an advantageous parallel, we may +call an Established Church. Coniston was a Congregational town still, +and the deacons and dignitaries of that church were likewise the pillars +of the state. Not many years before the time of which we write actual +disestablishment had occurred, when the town ceased--as a town--to pay +the salary of Priest Ware, as the minister was called. The father of +Jethro Bass, Nathan the currier, had once, in a youthful lapse, permitted +a Baptist preacher to immerse him in Coniston Water. This had been the +extent of Nathan's religion; Jethro had none at all, and was, for this +and other reasons, somewhere near the bottom of the social scale. + +"Fox and geese!" repeated Jock, with his eyes still on Jethro's +retreating back. The builder of the meetinghouse rubbed a great, brown +arm, scratched his head, and turned and came face to face with Cynthia +Ware, in a poke bonnet. + +Contrast is a favorite trick of authors, and no greater contrast is to be +had in Coniston than that between Cynthia Ware and Jethro Bass. In the +first place; Cynthia was the minister's daughter, and twenty-one. I can +summon her now under the great maples of the village street, a virginal +figure, gray eyes that kindled the face shaded by the poke bonnet, and up +you went above the clouds. + +"What about fox and geese, Jock?" said Cynthia. + +"Jethro Bass," said Jock, who, by reason of his ability, was a privileged +character. "Mark my words, Cynthy, Jethro Bass is an all-fired sight +smarter that folks in this town think he be. They don't take notice of +him, because he don't say much, and stutters. He hain't be'n eddicated a +great deal, but I wouldn't be afeard to warrant he'd make a racket in the +world some of these days." + +"Jock Hallowell!" cried Cynthia, the gray beginning to dance, "I suppose +you think Jethro's going to be President." + +"All right," said Jock, "you can laugh. Ever talked with Jethro?" + +"I've hardly spoken two words to him in my life," she replied. And it +was true, although the little white parsonage was scarce two hundred +yards from the tannery house. + +"Jethro's never ailed much," Jock remarked, having reference to Cynthia's +proclivities for visiting the sick. "I've seed a good many different men +in my time, and I tell you, Cynthia Ware, that Jethro's got a kind of +power you don't often come acrost. Folks don't suspicion it." + +In spite of herself, Cynthia was impressed by the ring of sincerity in +the builder's voice. Now that she thought of it, there was rugged power +in Jethro's face, especially when he took off the coonskin cap. She +always nodded a greeting when she saw him in the tannery yard or on the +road, and sometimes he nodded back, but oftener he had not appeared to +see her. She had thought this failure to nod stupidity, but it might +after all be abstraction. + +"What makes you think he has ability?" she asked, picking flowers from a +bunch of arbutus she held. + +"He's rich, for one thing," said Jock. He had not intended a +dissertation on Jethro Bass, but he felt bound to defend his statements. + +"Rich!" + +"Wal, he hain't poor. He's got as many as thirty mortgages round among +the farmers--some on land, and some on cattle." + +"How did he make the money?" demanded Cynthia, in surprise. + +"Hides an' wool an' bark--turned 'em over an' swep' in. Gits a load, and +Lyman Hull drives him down to Boston with that six-hoss team. Lyman gits +drunk, Jethro keeps sober and saves." + +Jock began to fashion some wooden pegs with his adze, for nails were +scarce in those days. Still Cynthia lingered, picking flowers from the +bunch. + +"What did you mean by 'fox and geese' Jock?" she said presently. + +Jock laughed. He did not belong to the Establishment, but was a +Universalist; politically he admired General Jackson. "What'd you say if +Jethro was Chairman of the next Board of Selectmen?" he demanded. + +No wonder Cynthia gasped. Jethro Bass, Chairman of the Board, in the +honored seat of Deacon Moses Hatch, the perquisite of the church in +Coniston! The idea was heresy. As a matter of fact, Jock himself +uttered it as a playful exaggeration. Certain nonconformist farmers, of +whom there were not a few in the town, had come into Jonah Winch's store +that morning; and Jabez Miller, who lived on the north slope, had taken +away the breath of the orthodox by suggesting that Jethro Bass be +nominated for town office. Jock Hallowell had paused once or twice on +his work on the steeple to look across the tree-tops at Coniston +shouldering the sky. He had been putting two and two together, and now +he was merely making five out of it, instead of four. He remembered that +Jethro Bass had for some years been journeying through the town, baying +his hides and wool, and collecting the interest on his mortgages. + +Cynthia would have liked to reprove Jock Hallowell, and tell him there +were some subjects which should not be joked about. Jethro Bass, +Chairman of the Board of Selectmen! + +"Well, here comes, young Moses, I do believe," said Jock, gathering his +pegs into his apron and preparing to ascend once more. "Callated he'd +spring up pretty soon." + +"Jock, you do talk foolishly for a man who is able to build a church," +said Cynthia, as she walked away. The young Moses referred to was Moses +Hatch, Junior, son of the pillar of the Church and State, and it was an +open secret that he was madly in love with Cynthia. Let it be said of +him that he was a steady-going young man, and that he sighed for the +moon. + +"Moses," said the girl, when they came in sight of the elms that, shaded +the gable of the parsonage, "what do you think of Jethro Bass?" + +"Jethro Bass!" exclaimed honest Moses, "whatever put him into your head, +Cynthy?" Had she mentioned perhaps, any other young man in Coniston, +Moses would have been eaten with jealousy. + +"Oh, Jock was joking about him. What do you think of him?" + +"Never thought one way or t'other," he answered. "Jethro never had much +to do with the boys. He's always in that tannery, or out buyin' of +hides. He does make a sharp bargain when he buys a hide. We always goes +shares on our'n." + +Cynthia was not only the minister's daughter,--distinction enough,--her +reputation for learning was spread through the country roundabout, and at +the age of twenty she had had an offer to teach school in Harwich. Once +a week in summer she went to Brampton, to the Social library there, and +sat at the feet of that Miss Lucretia Penniman of whom Brampton has ever +been so proud--Lucretia Penniman, one of the first to sound the clarion +note for the intellectual independence of American women; who wrote the +"Hymn to Coniston"; who, to the awe of her townspeople, went out into the +great world and became editress of a famous woman's journal, and knew +Longfellow and Hawthorne and Bryant. Miss Lucretia it was who started +the Brampton Social Library, and filled it with such books as both sexes +might read with profit. Never was there a stricter index than hers. +Cynthia, Miss Lucretia loved, and the training of that mind was the +pleasantest task of her life. + +Curiosity as a factor has never, perhaps, been given its proper weight by +philosophers. Besides being fatal to a certain domestic animal, as an +instigating force it has brought joy and sorrow into the lives of men and +women, and made and marred careers. And curiosity now laid hold of +Cynthia Ware. Why in the world she should ever have been curious about +Jethro Bass is a mystery to many, for the two of them were as far apart +as the poles. Cynthia, of all people, took to watching the tanner's +son, and listening to the brief colloquies he had with other men at Jonah +Winch's store, when she went there to buy things for the parsonage; and +it seemed to her that Jock had not been altogether wrong, and that there +was in the man an indefinable but very compelling force. And when a +woman begins to admit that a man has force, her curiosity usually +increases. On one or two of these occasions Cynthia had been startled to +find his eyes fixed upon her, and though the feeling she had was closely +akin to fear, she found something distinctly pleasurable in it. + +May came, and the pools dried up, the orchards were pink and white, the +birches and the maples were all yellow-green on the mountain sides +against the dark pines, and Cynthia was driving the minister's gig to +Brampton. Ahead of her, in the canon made by the road between the great +woods, strode an uncouth but powerful figure--coonskin cap, homespun +breeches tucked into boots, and all. The gig slowed down, and Cynthia +began to tremble with that same delightful fear. She knew it must be +wicked, because she liked it so much. Unaccountable thing! She felt all +akin to the nature about her, and her blood was coursing as the sap +rushes through a tree. She would not speak to him; of that she was sure, +and equally sure that he would not speak to her. The horse was walking +now, and suddenly Jethro Bass faced around, and her heart stood still. + +"H-how be you, Cynthy?" he asked. + +"How do you do, Jethro?" + +A thrush in the woods began to sing a hymn, and they listened. After +that a silence, save for the notes of answering birds quickened by the +song, the minister's horse nibbling at the bushes. Cynthia herself could +not have explained why she lingered. Suddenly he shot a question at her. + +"Where be you goin'?" + +"To Brampton, to get Miss Lucretia to change this book," and she held it +up from her lap. It was a very large book. + +"Wh-what's it about," he demanded. + +"Napoleon Bonaparte." + +"Who was be?" + +"He was a very strong man. He began life poor and unknown, and fought +his way upward until he conquered the world." + +"C-conquered the world, did you say? Conquered the world?" + +"Yes." + +Jethro pondered. + +"Guess there's somethin' wrong about that book--somethin' wrong. Conquer +the United States?" + +Cynthia smiled. She herself did not realize that we were not a part of +the world, then. + +"He conquered Europe; where all the kings and queens are, and became a +king himself--an emperor." + +"I want to-know!" said Jethro. "You said he was a poor boy?" + +"Why don't you read the book, Jethro?" Cynthia answered. "I am sure I +can get Miss Lucretia to let you have it." + +"Don't know as I'd understand it," he demurred. + +"I'll try to explain what you don't understand," said Cynthia, and her +heart gave a bound at the very idea. + +"Will You?" he said, looking at her eagerly. "Will you? You mean it?" + +"Certainly," she answered, and blushed, not knowing why. "I-I must be +going," and she gathered up the reins. + +"When will you give it to me?" + +"I'll stop at the tannery when I come back from Brampton," she said, and +drove on. Once she gave a fleeting glance over her shoulder, and he was +still standing where she had left him. + +When she returned, in the yellow afternoon light that flowed over wood +and pasture, he came out of the tannery door. Jake Wheeler or Speedy +Bates, the journeyman tailoress, from whom little escaped, could not have +said it was by design--thought nothing, indeed, of that part of it. + +"As I live!" cried Speedy from the window to Aunt Lucy Prescott in the +bed, "if Cynthy ain't givin' him a book as big as the Bible!" + +Aunt Lucy hoped, first, that it was the Bible, and second, that Jethro +would read it. Aunt Lucy, and Established Church Coniston in general, +believed in snatching brands from the burning, and who so deft as Cynthia +at this kind of snatching! So Cynthia herself was a hypocrite for once, +and did not know it. At that time Jethro's sins were mostly of omission. +As far as rum was concerned, he was a creature after Aunt Lucy's own +heart, for he never touched it: true, gaunt Deacon Ira Perkins, tithing- +man, had once chided him for breaking the Sabbath--shooting at a fox. + +To return to the book. As long as he lived, Jethro looked back to the +joy of the monumental task of mastering its contents. In his mind, +Napoleon became a rough Yankee general; of the cities, villages, and +fortress he formed as accurate a picture as a resident of Venice from +Marco Polo's account of Tartary. Jethro had learned to read, after a +fashion, to write, add, multiply, and divide. He knew that George +Washington and certain barefooted companions had forced a proud Britain +to her knees, and much of the warring in the book took color from Captain +Timothy Prescott's stories of General Stark and his campaigns, heard at +Jonah Winch's store. What Paris looked like, or Berlin, or the Hospice +of St. Bernard--though imaged by a winter Coniston--troubled Jethro not +at all; the thing that stuck in his mind was that Napoleon--for a +considerable time, at least--compelled men to do his bidding. +Constitutions crumble before the Strong. Not that Jethro philosophized +about constitutions. Existing conditions presented themselves, and it +occurred to him that there were crevices in the town system, and ways +into power through the crevices for men clever enough to find them. + +A week later, and in these same great woods on the way to Brampton, +Cynthia overtook him once more. It was characteristic of him that he +plunged at once into the subject uppermost in his mind. + +"Not a very big place, this Corsica--not a very big place." + +"A little island in the Mediterranean," said Cynthia. + +"Hum. Country folks, the Bonapartes--country folks?" + +Cynthia laughed. + +"I suppose you might call them so," she said. "They were poor, and lived +out of the world." + +"He was a smart man. But he found things goin' his way. Didn't have to +move 'em." + +"Not at first;" she admitted; "but he had to move mountains later. How +far have you read?" + +"One thing that helped him," said Jethro, in indirect answer to this +question, "he got a smart woman for his wife--a smart woman." + +Cynthia looked down at the reins in her lap, and she felt again that +wicked stirring within her,--incredible stirring of minister's daughter +for tanner's son. Coniston believes, and always will believe, that the +social bars are strong enough. So Cynthia looked down at the reins. + +"Poor Josephine!" she said, "I always wish he had not cast her off." + +"C-cast her off?" said Jethro. "Cast her off! Why did he do that?" + +"After a while, when he got to be Emperor, he needed a wife who would be +more useful to him. Josephine had become a drag. He cared more about +getting on in the world than he did about his wife." + +Jethro looked away contemplatively. + +"Wa-wahn't the woman to blame any?" he said. + +"Read the book, and you'll see," retorted Cynthia, flicking her horse, +which started at all gaits down the road. Jethro stood in his tracks, +staring, but this time he did not see her face above the hood of the gig. +Presently he trudged on, head downward, pondering upon another problem +than Napoleon's. Cynthia, at length, arrived in Brampton Street, in a +humor that puzzled the good Miss Lucretia sorely. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +The sun had dropped behind the mountain, leaving Coniston in amethystine +shadow, and the last bee had flown homeward from the apple blossoms in +front of Aunt Lucy Prescott's window, before Cynthia returned. Aunt Lucy +was Cynthia's grandmother, and eighty-nine years of age. Still she sat +in her window beside the lilac bush, lost in memories of a stout, rosy +lass who had followed a stalwart husband up a broad river into the +wilderness some seventy years agone in Indian days--Weathersfield +Massacre days. That lass was Aunt Lucy herself, and in just such a May +had Timothy's axe rung through the Coniston forest and reared the log +cabin, where six of her children were born. Likewise in review passed +the lonely months when Timothy was fighting behind his rugged General +Stark for that privilege more desirable to his kind than life--self +government. Timothy Prescott would pull the forelock to no man, would +have such God-fearing persons as he chose make his laws for him. + +Honest Captain Timothy and his Stark heroes, Aunt Lucy and her memories, +have long gone to rest. Little did they dream of the nation we have +lived to see, straining at her constitution like a great ship at anchor +in a gale, with funnels belching forth smoke, and a new race of men +thronging her decks for the mastery. Coniston is there still behind its +mountain, with its rusty firelocks and its hillside graves. + +Cynthia, driving back from Brampton in the gig, smiled at Aunt Lucy in +the window, but she did not so much as glance at the tannery house +farther on. The tannery house, be it known, was the cottage where Jethro +dwelt, and which had belonged to Nathan, his father; and the tannery +sheds were at some distance behind it, nearer Coniston Water. Cynthia +did not glance at the tannery house, for a wave of orthodox indignation +had swept over her: at any rate, we may call it so. In other words, she +was angry with herself: pitied and scorned herself, if the truth be told, +for her actions--an inevitable mood. + +In front of the minister's barn under the elms on the hill Cynthia pulled +the harness from the tired horse with an energy that betokened activity +of mind. She was not one who shrank from self-knowledge, and the +question put itself to her, "Whither was this matter tending?" The fire +that is in strong men has ever been a lure to women; and many, meaning to +play with it, have been burnt thereby since the world began. But to turn +the fire. to some use, to make the world better for it or stranger for +it, that were an achievement indeed! The horse munching his hay, Cynthia +lingered as the light fainted above the ridge, with the thought that this +might be woman's province, and Miss Lucretia Penniman might go on leading +her women regiments to no avail. Nevertheless she was angry with Jethro, +not because of what he had said, but because of what he was. + +The next day is Sunday, and there is mild excitement in Coniston. For +Jethro Bass, still with the coonskin cap, but in a brass-buttoned coat +secretly purchased in Brampton, appeared at meeting! It made no +difference that he entered quietly, and sat in the rear slip, orthodox +Coniston knew that he was behind them: good Mr. Ware knew it, and changed +a little his prayers and sermon: Cynthia knew it, grew hot and cold by +turns under her poke bonnet. Was he not her brand, and would she not get +the credit of snatching him? How willingly, then, would she have given +up that credit to the many who coveted it--if it were a credit. Was +Jethro at meeting for any religious purpose? + +Jethro's importance to Coniston lay in his soul, and that soul was +numbered at present ninety and ninth. When the meeting was over, Aunt +Lucy Prescott hobbled out at an amazing pace to advise him to read +chapter seven of Matthew, but he had vanished: via the horse sheds; if +she had known it, and along Coniston Water to the house by the tannery, +where he drew breath in a state of mind not to be depicted. He had gazed +at the back of Cynthia's poke bonnet for two hours, but he had an uneasy +feeling that he would have to pay a price. + +The price was paid, in part, during the next six days. To do +Jethro's importance absolute justice, he did inspire fear among his +contemporaries, and young men and women did not say much to his face; +what they did say gave them little satisfaction. Grim Deacon Ira stopped +him as he was going to buy hides, and would have prayed over him if +Jethro had waited; dear Aunt Lucy did pray, but in private. In six days +orthodox Coniston came to the conclusion that this ninety and ninth soul +were better left to her who had snatched it, Cynthia Ware. + +As for Cynthia, nothing was farther from her mind. Unchristian as was +the thought, if this thing she had awakened could only have been put back +to sleep again, she would have thought herself happy. But would she have +been happy? When Moses Hatch congratulated her, with more humor than +sincerity, he received the greatest scare of his life. Yet in those days +she welcomed Moses's society as she never had before; and Coniston, +including Moses himself, began thinking of a wedding. + +Another Saturday came, and no Cynthia went to Brampton. Jethro may or +may not have been on the road. Sunday, and there was Jethro on the back +seat in the meetinghouse: Sunday noon, over his frugal dinner, the +minister mildly remonstrates with Cynthia for neglecting one who has +shown signs of grace, citing certain failures of others of his +congregation: Cynthia turns scarlet, leaving the minister puzzled and a +little uneasy: Monday, Miss Lucretia Penniman, alarmed, comes to Coniston +to inquire after Cynthia's health: Cynthia drives back with her as far as +Four Corners, talking literature and the advancement of woman; returns on +foot, thinking of something else, when she discerns a figure seated on a +log by the roadside, bent as in meditation. There was no going back the +thing to do was to come on, as unconcernedly as possible, not noticing +anything,--which Cynthia did, not without a little inward palpitating and +curiosity, for which she hated herself and looked the sterner. The +figure unfolded itself, like a Jack from a box. + +"You say the woman wahn't any to blame--wahn't any to blame?" + +The poke bonnet turned away. The shoulders under it began to shake, and +presently the astonished Jethro heard what seemed to be faint peals of +laughter. Suddenly she turned around to him, all trace of laughter gone. + +"Why don't you read the book?" + +"So I am," said Jethro, "so I am. Hain't come to this casting-off yet." + +"And you didn't look ahead to find out?" This with scorn. + +"Never heard of readin' a book in that fashion. I'll come to it in time- +-g-guess it won't run away." + +Cynthia stared at him, perhaps with a new interest at this plodding +determination. She was not quite sure that she ought to stand talking to +him a third time in these woods, especially if the subject of +conversation were not, as Coniston thought, the salvation of his soul. +But she stayed. Here was a woman who could be dealt with by no known +rules, who did not even deign to notice a week of marked coldness. + +"Jethro," she said, with a terrifying sternness, "I am going to ask you a +question, and you must answer me truthfully." + +"G-guess I won't find any trouble about that," said Jethro, apparently +not in the least terrified. + +"I want you to tell me why you are going to meeting." + +"To see you," said Jethro, promptly, "to see you." + +"Don't you know that that is wrong?" + +"H-hadn't thought much about it," answered Jethro. + +"Well, you should think about it. People don't go to meeting to--to look +at other people." + +"Thought they did," said Jethro. "W-why do they wear their best clothes +--why do they wear their best clothes?" + +"To honor God," said Cynthia, with a shade lacking in the conviction, for +she added hurriedly: "It isn't right for you to go to church to see-- +anybody. You go there to hear the Scriptures expounded, and to have your +sins forgiven. Because I lent you that book, and you come to meeting, +people think I'm converting you." + +"So you be," replied Jethro, and this time it was he who smiled, "so you +be." + +Cynthia turned away, her lips pressed together: How to deal with such a +man! Wondrous notes broke on the stillness, the thrush was singing his +hymn again, only now it seemed a paean. High in the azure a hawk +wheeled, and floated. + +"Couldn't you see I was very angry with you?" + +"S-saw you was goin' with Moses Hatch more than common." + +Cynthia drew breath sharply. This was audacity--and yet she liked it. + +"I am very fond of Moses," she said quickly. + +"You always was charitable, Cynthy," said he. + +"Haven't I been charitable to you?" she retorted. + +"G-guess it has be'n charity," said Jethro. He looked down at her +solemnly, thoughtfully, no trace of anger in his face, turned, and +without another word strode off in the direction of Coniston Flat. + +He left a tumultuous Cynthia, amazement and repentance struggling with +anger, which forbade her calling him back: pride in her answering to +pride in him, and she rejoicing fiercely that he had pride. Had he but +known it, every step he took away from her that evening was a step in +advance, and she gloried in the fact that he did not once look back. As +she walked toward Coniston, the thought came to her that she was rid of +the thing she had stirred up, perhaps forever, and the thrush burst into +his song once more. + +That night, after Cynthia's candle had gone out, when the minister sat on +his doorsteps looking at the glory of the moon on the mountain forest, he +was startled by the sight of a figure slowly climbing toward him up the +slope. A second glance told him that it was Jethro's. Vaguely troubled, +he watched his approach; for good Priest Ware, while able to obey one- +half the scriptural injunction, had not the wisdom of the serpent, and +women, as typified by Cynthia, were a continual puzzle to him. That very +evening, Moses Hatch had called, had been received with more favor than +usual, and suddenly packed off about his business. Seated in the +moonlight, the minister wondered vaguely whether Jethro Bass were +troubling the girl. And now Jethro stood before him, holding out a book. +Rising, Mr. Ware bade him good evening, mildly and cordially. + +"C-come to leave this book for Cynthy," said Jethro. + +Mr. Ware took it, mechanically. + +"Have you finished it?" he asked kindly. + +"All I want," replied Jethro, "all I want." + +He turned, and went down the slope. Twice the words rose to the +minister's lips to call him back, and were suppressed. Yet what to say +to him if he came? Mr. Ware sat down again, sadly wondering why Jethro +Bass should be so difficult to talk to. + +The parsonage was of only one story, with a steep, sloping roof. On the +left of the doorway was Cynthia's room, and the minister imagined he +heard a faint, rustling noise at her window. Presently he arose, barred +the door; could be heard moving. around in his room for a while, and +after that all was silence save for the mournful crying of a whippoorwill +in the woods. Then a door opened softly, a white vision stole into the +little entry lighted by the fan-window, above, seized the book and stole +back. Had the minister been a prying man about his household, he would +have noticed next day that Cynthia's candle was burned down to the +socket. He saw nothing of the kind: he saw, in fact, that his daughter +flitted about the house singing, and he went out into the sun to drop +potatoes. + +No sooner had he reached the barn than this singing ceased. But how was +Mr. Ware to know that? + +Twice Cynthia, during the week that followed, got halfway down the slope +of the parsonage hill, the book under her arm, on her way to the tannery; +twice went back, tears of humiliation and self-pity in her eyes at the +thought that she should make advances to a man, and that man the tanner's +son. Her household work done, a longing for further motion seized her, +and she walked out under the maples of the village street. Let it be +understood that Coniston was a village, by courtesy, and its shaded road +a street. Suddenly, there was the tannery, Jethro standing in front of +it, contemplative. Did he see her? Would he come to her? Cynthia, +seized by a panic of shame, flew into Aunt Lucy Prescott's, sat through +half an hour of torture while Aunt Lucy talked of redemption of sinners, +during ten minutes of which Jethro stood, still contemplative. What +tumult was in his breast, or whether there was any tumult, Cynthia knew +not. He went into the tannery again, and though she saw him twice later +in the week, he gave no sign of seeing her. + +On Saturday Cynthia bought a new bonnet in Brampton; Sunday morning put +it on, suddenly remembered that one went to church to honor God, and wore +her old one; walked to meeting in a flutter of expectancy not to be +denied, and would have looked around had that not been a cardinal sin in +Coniston. No Jethro! General opinion (had she waited to hear it among +the horse sheds or on the green), that Jethro's soul had slid back into +the murky regions, from which it were folly for even Cynthia to try to +drag it. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +To prove that Jethro's soul had not slid back into the murky regions, and +that it was still indulging in flights, it is necessary to follow him +(for a very short space) to Boston. Jethro himself went in Lyman Hull's +six-horse team with a load of his own merchandise--hides that he had +tanned, and other country produce. And they did not go by the way of +Truro Pass to the Capital, but took the state turnpike over the ranges, +where you can see for miles and miles and miles on a clear summer day +across the trembling floors of the forest tops to lonely sentinel +mountains fourscore miles away. + +No one takes the state turnpike nowadays except crazy tourists who are +willing to risk their necks and their horses' legs for the sake of +scenery. The tough little Morgans of that time, which kept their feet +like cats, have all but disappeared, but there were places on that road +where Lyman Hull put the shoes under his wheels for four miles at a +stretch. He was not a companion many people would have chosen with whom +to enjoy the beauties of such a trip, and nearly everybody in Coniston +was afraid of him. Jethro Bass would sit silent on the seat for hours +and--it is a fact to be noted that when he told Lyman to do a thing, +Lyman did it; not, perhaps, without cursing and grumbling. Lyman was a +profane and wicked man--drover, farmer, trader, anything. He had a cider +mill on his farm on the south slopes of Coniston which Mr. Ware had +mentioned in his sermons, and which was the resort of the ungodly. The +cider was not so good as Squire Northcutt's, but cheaper. Jethro was +not afraid of Lyman, and he had a mortgage on the six-horse team, and on +the farm and the cider mill. + +After six days, Jethro and Lyman drove over Charlestown bridge and into +the crooked streets of Boston, and at length arrived at a drover's hotel, +or lodging-house that did not, we may be sure, front on Mount Vernon +Street or face the Mall. Lyman proceeded to get drunk, and Jethro to +sell the hides and other merchandise which Lyman had hauled for him. + +There was a young man in Boston, when Jethro arrived in Lyman Hull's +team, named William Wetherell. By extraordinary circumstances he and +another connected with him are to take no small part in this story, which +is a sufficient excuse for his introduction. His father had been a +prosperous Portsmouth merchant in the West India trade, a man of many +attainments, who had failed and died of a broken heart; and William, at +two and twenty, was a clerk in the little jewellery shop of Mr. Judson in +Cornhill. + +William Wetherell had literary aspirations, and sat from morning till +night behind the counter, reading and dreaming: dreaming that he was to +be an Irving or a Walter Scott, and yet the sum total of his works in +after years consisted of some letters to the Newcastle Guardian, and a +beginning of the Town History of Coniston! + +William had a contempt for the awkward young countryman who suddenly +loomed up before him that summer's morning across the counter. But a +moment before the clerk had been in a place where he would fain have +lingered--a city where blue waters flow swiftly between white palaces +toward the sunrise. + + "And I have fitted up some chambers there + Looking toward the golden Eastern air, + And level with the living winds, which flow + Like waves above the living waves below." + +Little did William Wetherell guess, when he glanced up at the intruder, +that he was looking upon one of the forces of his own life! The +countryman wore a blue swallow tail coat (fashioned by the hand of Speedy +Bates), a neck-cloth, a coonskin cap, and his trousers were tucked into +rawhide boots. He did not seem a promising customer for expensive +jewellery, and the literary clerk did not rise, but merely closed his +book with his thumb in it. + +"S-sell things here," asked the countryman, "s-sell things here?" + +"Occasionally, when folks have money to buy them." + +"My name's Jethro Bass," said the countryman, "Jethro Bass from Coniston. +Ever hear of Coniston?" + +Young Mr. Wetherell never had, but many years afterward he remembered his +name, heaven knows why. Jethro Bass! Perhaps it had a strange ring to +it. + +"F-folks told me to be careful," was Jethro's next remark. He did not +look at the clerk, but kept his eyes fixed on the things within the +counter. + +"Somebody ought to have come with you," said the clerk, with a smile of +superiority. + +"D-don't know much about city ways." + +"Well," said the clerk, beginning to be amused, "a man has to keep his +wits about him." + +Even then Jethro spared him a look, but continued to study the contents +of the case. + +"What can I do for you, Mr. Bass? We have some really good things here. +For example, this Swiss watch, which I will sell you cheap, for one +hundred and fifty dollars." + +"One hundred and fifty dollars--er--one hundred and fifty?" + +Wetherell nodded. Still the countryman did not look up. + +"F-folks told me to be careful," he repeated without a smile. He was +looking at the lockets, and finally pointed a large finger at one of +them--the most expensive, by the way. "W-what d'ye get for that?" he +asked. + +"Twenty dollars," the clerk promptly replied. Thirty was nearer the +price, but what did it matter. + +"H-how much for that?" he said, pointing to another. The clerk told him. +He inquired about them all, deliberately repeating the sums, considering +with so well-feigned an air of a purchaser that Mr. Wetherell began to +take a real joy in the situation. For trade was slack in August, and +diversion scarce. Finally he commanded that the case be put on the top +of the counter, and Wetherell humored him. Whereupon he picked up the +locket he had first chosen. It looked very delicate in his huge, rough +hand, and Wetherell was surprised that the eyes of Mr. Bass had been +caught by the most expensive, for it was far from being the showiest. + +"T-twenty dollars?" he asked. + +"We may as well call it that," laughed Wetherell. + +"It's not too good for Cynthy," he said. + +"Nothing's too good for Cynthy," answered Mr. Wetherell, mockingly, +little knowing how he might come to mean it. + +Jethro Bass paid no attention to this speech. Pulling a great cowhide +wallet from his pocket, still holding the locket in his hand, to the +amazement of the clerk he counted out twenty dollars and laid them down. + +"G-guess I'll take that one, g-guess I'll take that one," he said. + +Then he looked at Mr. Wetherell for the first time. + +"Hold!" cried the clerk, more alarmed than he cared to show, "that's not +the price. Did you think I could sell it for that price?" + +"W-wahn't that the price you fixed?" + +"You simpleton!" retorted Wetherell, with a conviction now that he was +calling him the wrong name. "Give me back the locket, and you shall have +your money, again." + +"W-wahn't that the price you fixed?" + +"Yes, but--" + +"G-guess I'll keep the locket--g-guess I'll keep the locket." + +Wetherell looked at him aghast, and there was no doubt about his +determination. With a sinking heart the clerk realized that he should +have to make good to Mr. Judson the seven odd dollars of difference, and +then he lost his head. Slipping round the counter to the door of the +shop, he turned the key, thrust it in his pocket, and faced Mr. Bass +again--from behind the counter. + +"You don't leave this shop," cried the clerk, "until you give me back +that locket." + +Jethro Bass turned. A bench ran along the farther wall, and there he +planted himself without a word, while the clerk stared at him,--with what +feelings of uneasiness I shall not attempt to describe,--for the customer +was plainly determined to wait until hunger should drive one of them +forth. The minutes passed, and Wetherell began to hate him. Then some +one tried the door, peered in through the glass, perceived Jethro, shook +the knob, knocked violently, all to no purpose. Jethro seemed lost in a +reverie. + +"This has gone far enough," said the clerk, trying to keep his voice from +shaking "it is beyond a joke. Give me back the locket." And he +tendered Jethro the money again. + +"W-wahn't that the price you fixed?" asked Jethro, innocently. + +Wetherell choked. The man outside shook the door again, and people on +the sidewalk stopped, and presently against the window panes a sea of +curious faces gazed in upon them. Mr. Bass's thoughts apparently were +fixed on Eternity--he looked neither at the people nor at Wetherell. And +then, the crowd parting as for one in authority, as in a bad dream the +clerk saw his employer, Mr. Judson, courteously pushing away the customer +at the door who would not be denied. Another moment, and Mr. Judson had +gained admittance with his private key, and stood on the threshold +staring at clerk and customer. Jethro gave no sign that the situation +had changed. + +"William," said Mr. Judson, in a dangerously quiet voice, "perhaps you +can explain this extraordinary state of affairs." + +"I can, sir," William cried. "This gentleman" (the word stuck in his +throat), "this gentleman came in here to examine lockets which I had no +reason to believe he would buy. I admit my fault, sir. He asked the +price of the most expensive, and I told him twenty dollars, merely for a +jest, sir." William hesitated. + +"Well?" said Mr. Judson. + +"After pricing every locket in the case, he seized the first one, handed +me twenty dollars, and now refuses to give it up, although he knows the +price is twenty-seven." + +"Then?" + +"Then I locked the door, sir. He sat down there, and hasn't moved +since." + +Mr. Judson looked again at Mr. Bass; this time with unmistakable +interest. The other customer began to laugh, and the crowd was pressing +in, and Mr. Judson turned and shut the door in their faces. All this +time Mr. Bass had not moved, not so much as to lift his head or shift one +of his great cowhide boots. + +"Well, sir," demanded Mr. Judson, "what have you to say?" + +"N-nothin'. G-guess I'll keep the locket. I've, paid for it--I've paid +for it." + +"And you are aware, my friend," said Mr. Judson, "that my clerk has given +you the wrong price?" + +"Guess that's his lookout." He still sat there, doggedly unconcerned. + +A bull would have seemed more at home in a china shop than Jethro Bass in +a jewellery store. But Mr. Judson himself was a man out of the ordinary, +and instead of getting angry he began to be more interested. + +"Took you for a greenhorn, did he?" he remarked. + +"F-folks told me to be careful--to be careful," said Mr. Bass. + +Then Mr. Judson laughed. It was all the more disconcerting to William +Wetherell, because his employer laughed rarely. He laid his hand on +Jethro's shoulder. + +"He might have spared himself the trouble, my young friend," he said. +"You didn't expect to find a greenhorn behind a jewellery counter, did +you?" + +"S-surprised me some," said Jethro. + +Mr. Judson laughed again, all the while looking at him. + +"I am going to let you keep the locket," he said, "because it will teach +my greenhorn a lesson. William, do you hear that?" + +"Yes, sir," William said, and his face was very red. + +Mr. Bass rose solemnly, apparently unmoved by his triumph in a somewhat +remarkable transaction, and William long remembered how he towered over +all of them. He held the locket out to Mr. Judson, who stared at it, +astonished. + +"What's this?" said that gentleman; "you don't want it?" + +"Guess I'll have it marked," said Jethro, "ef it don't cost extry." + +"Marked!" gasped Mr. Judson, "marked!" + +"Ef it don't cost extry," Jethro repeated. + +"Well, I'll--" exclaimed Mr. Judson, and suddenly recalled the fact that +he was a church member. "What inscription do you wish put into it?" he +asked, recovering himself with an effort. + +Jethro thrust his hand into his pocket, and again the cowhide wallet came +out. He tendered Mr. Judson a somewhat soiled piece of paper, and Mr. +Judson read:-- + + "Cynthy, from Jethro" + +"Cynthy," Mr. Judson repeated, in a tremulous voice, "Cynthy, not +Cynthia." + +"H-how is it written," said Jethro, leaning over it, "h-how is it +written?" + +"Cynthy," answered Mr. Judson, involuntarily. + +"Then make it Cynthy--make it Cynthy." + +"Cynthy it shall be," said Mr. Judson, with conviction. + +"When'll you have it done?" + +"To-night," replied Mr. Judson, with a twinkle in his eye, "to-night, as +a special favor." + +"What time--w-what time?" + +"Seven o'clock, sir. May I send it to your hotel? The Tremont House, I +suppose?" + +"I-I'll call," said Jethro, so solemnly that Mr. Judson kept his laughter +until he was gone. + +From the door they watched him silently as he strode across the street +and turned the corner. Then Mr. Judson turned. "That man will make his +mark, William," he said; and added thoughtfully, "but whether for good or +evil, I know not." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +What Cynthia may have thought or felt during Jethro's absence in Boston, +and for some months thereafter, she kept to herself. Honest Moses Hatch +pursued his courting untroubled, and never knew that he had a rival. +Moses would as soon have questioned the seasons or the weather as +Cynthia's changes of moods,--which were indeed the weather for him, and +when storms came he sat with his back to them, waiting for the sunshine. +He had long ceased proposing marriage, in the firm belief that Cynthia +would set the day in her own good time. Thereby he was saved much +suffering. + +The summer flew on apace, for Coniston. Fragrant hay was cut on +hillsides won from rock and forest, and Coniston Water sang a gentler +melody--save when the clouds floated among the spruces on the mountain +and the rain beat on the shingles. During the still days before the turn +of the year,--days of bending fruit boughs, crab-apples glistening red in +the soft sunlight,--rumor came from Brampton to wrinkle the forehead of +Moses Hatch as he worked among his father's orchards. + +The rumor was of a Mr. Isaac Dudley Worthington, a name destined to make +much rumor before it was to be carved on the marble. Isaac D. +Worthington, indeed, might by a stretch of the imagination be called the +pioneer of all the genus to be known in the future as City Folks, who +were, two generations later, to invade the country like a devouring army +of locusts. + +At that time a stranger in Brampton was enough to set the town agog. But +a young man of three and twenty, with an independent income of four +hundred dollars a year!--or any income at all not derived from his own +labor--was unheard of. It is said that when the stage from over Truro +Gap arrived in Brampton Street a hundred eyes gazed at him unseen, from +various ambushes, and followed him up the walk to Silas Wheelock's, where +he was to board. In half an hour Brampton knew the essentials of Isaac +Worthington's story, and Sam Price was on his way with it to Coniston for +distribution at Jonah Winch's store. + +Young Mr. Worthington was from Boston--no less; slim, pale, medium +height, but with an alert look, and a high-bridged nose. But his +clothes! Sam Price's vocabulary was insufficient here, they were cut in +such a way, and Mr. Worthington was downright distinguished-looking under +his gray beaver. Why had he come to Brampton? demanded Deacon Ira +Perkins. Sam had saved this for the last. Young Mr. Worthington was +threatened with consumption, and had been sent to live with his distant +relative, Silas Wheelock. + +The presence of a gentleman of leisure--although threatened with +consumption--became an all-absorbing topic in two villages and three +hamlets, and more than one swain, hitherto successful, felt the wind blow +colder. But in a fortnight it was known that a petticoat did not make +Isaac Worthington even turn his head. Curiosity centred on Silas +Wheelock's barn, where Mr. Worthington had fitted up a shop, and, +presently various strange models of contrivances began to take shape +there. What these were, Silas himself knew not; and the gentleman of +leisure was, alas! close-mouthed. When he was not sawing and hammering +and planing, he took long walks up and down Coniston Water, and was +surprised deep in thought at several places. + +Nathan Bass's story-and-a-half house, devoid of paint, faced the road, +and behind it was the shed, or barn, that served as the tannery, and +between the tannery and Coniston Water were the vats. The rain flew in +silvery spray, and the drops shone like jewels on the coat of a young man +who stood looking in at the tannery door. Young Jake Wheeler, son of the +village spendthrift, was driving a lean white horse round in a ring: to +the horse was attached a beam, and on the beam a huge round stone rolled +on a circular oak platform. Jethro Bass, who was engaged in pushing +hemlock bark under the stone to be crushed, straightened. Of the three, +the horse had seen the visitor first, and stopped in his tracks. + +"Jethro!" whispered Jake, tingling with an excitement that was but +natural. Jethro had begun to sweep the finer pieces of bark toward the +centre. "It's the city man, walked up here from Brampton." + +It was indeed Mr. Worthington, slightly more sunburned and less citified- +looking than on his arrival, and he wore a woollen cap of Brampton make. +Even then, despite his wavy hair and delicate appearance, Isaac +Worthington had the hawk-like look which became famous in later years, +and at length he approached Jethro and fixed his eye upon him. + +"Kind of slow work, isn't it?" remarked Mr. Worthington. + +The white horse was the only one to break the silence that followed, by +sneezing with all his might. + +"How is the tannery business in these parts?" essayed Mr. Worthington +again. + +"Thinkin' of it?" said Jethro. "T-thinkin' of it, be you?" + +"No, answered Mr. Worthington, hastily. "If I were," he added, "I'd put +in new machinery. That horse and stone is primitive." + +"What kind of machinery would you put in?" asked Jethro. + +"Ah," answered Worthington, "that will interest you. All New Englanders +are naturally progressive, I take it." + +"W-what was it you took?" + +"I was merely remarking on the enterprise of New Englanders," said +Worthington, flushing. "On my journey up here, beside the Merrimac, I +had the opportunity to inspect the new steam-boiler, the falling-mill, +the splitting machine, and other remarkable improvements. In fact, these +suggested one or two little things to me, which might be of interest to +you." + +Well," said Jethro, "they might, and then again they mightn't. Guess it +depends." + +"Depends!" exclaimed the man of leisure, "depends on what?" + +"H-how much you know about it." + +Young Mr. Worthington, instead of being justly indignant, laughed and +settled himself comfortably on a pile of bark. He thought Jethro a +character, and he was not mistaken. On the other hand, Mr. Worthington +displayed a knowledge of the falling-mill and splitting-machine and the +process of tanneries in general that was surprising. Jethro, had Mr. +Worthington but known it, was more interested in animate machines: more +interested in Mr. Worthington than the falling-mill or, indeed, the +tannery business. + +At length the visitor fell silent, his sense of superiority suddenly +gone. Others had had this same feeling with Jethro, even the minister; +but the man of leisure (who was nothing of the sort) merely felt a kind +of bewilderment. + +"Callatin' to live in Brampton--be you?" asked Jethro. + +"I am living there now." + +"C-callatin' to set up a mill some day?" + +Mr. Worthington fairly leaped off the bark pile. + +"What makes you say that?" he demanded. + +"G-guesswork," said Jethro, starting to shovel again, "g-guesswork." + +To take a walk in the wild, to come upon a bumpkin in cowhide boots +crushing bark, to have him read within twenty minutes a cherished and +well-hidden ambition which Brampton had not discovered in a month (and +did not discover for many years) was sufficiently startling. Well might +Mr. Worthington tremble for his other ambitions, and they were many. + +Jethro stepped out, passing Mr. Worthington as though he had already +forgotten that gentleman's existence, and seized an armful of bark that +lay under cover of a lean-to. Just then, heralded by a brightening of +the western sky, a girl appeared down the road, her head bent a little as +in thought, and if she saw the group by the tannery house she gave no +sign. Two of them stared at her--Jake Wheeler and Mr. Worthington. +Suddenly Jake, implike, turned and stared at Worthington. + +"Cynthy Ware, the minister's daughter," he said. + +"Haven't I seen her in Brampton?" inquired Mr. Worthington, little +thinking of the consequences of the question. + +"Guess you have," answered Jake. "Cynthy goes to the Social Library, to +git books. She knows more'n the minister himself, a sight more." + +"Where does the minister live?" asked Mr. Worthington. + +Jake pulled him by the sleeve toward the road, and pointed to the low +gable of the little parsonage under the elms on the hill beyond the +meeting-house. The visitor gave a short glance at it, swung around and +gave a longer glance at the figure disappearing in the other direction. +He did not suspect that Jake was what is now called a news agency. Then +Mr. Worthington turned to Jethro, who was stooping over the bark. + +"If you come to Brampton, call and see me," he said. "You'll find me at +Silas Wheelock's." + +He got no answer, but apparently expected none, and he started off down +the Brampton road in the direction Cynthia had taken. + +"That makes another," said Jake, significantly, "and Speedy Bates says he +never looks at wimmen. Godfrey, I wish I could see Moses now." + +Mr. Worthington had not been quite ingenuous with Jake. To tell the +truth, he had made the acquaintance of the Social Library and Miss +Lucretia, and that lady had sung the praises of her favorite. Once out +of sight of Jethro, Mr. Worthington quickened his steps, passed the +store, where he was remarked by two of Jonah's customers, and his blood +leaped when he saw the girl in front of him, walking faster now. Yes, it +is a fact that Isaac Worthington's blood once leaped. He kept on, but +when near her had a spasm of fright to make his teeth fairly chatter, and +than another spasm followed, for Cynthia had turned around. + +"How do you do Mr. Worthington?" she said, dropping him a little +courtesy. Mr. Worthington stopped in his tracks, and it was some time +before he remembered to take off his woollen cap and sweep the mud with +it. + +"You know my name!" he exclaimed. + +"It is known from Tarleton Four Corners to Harwich," said Cynthia, "all +that distance. To tell the truth," she added, "those are the boundaries +of my world." And Mr. Worthington being still silent, "How do you like +being a big frog in a little pond?" + +"If it were your pond, Miss Cynthia," he responded gallantly, "I should +be content to be a little frog." + +"Would you?" she said; "I don't believe you." + +This was not subtle flattery, but the truth--Mr. Worthington would never +be content to be a little anything. So he had been judged twice in an +afternoon, once by Jethro and again by Cynthia. + +"Why don't you believe me?" he asked ecstatically. + +"A woman's instinct, Mr. Worthington, has very little reason in it." + +"I hear, Miss Cynthia," he said gallantly, "that your instinct is +fortified by learning, since Miss Penniman tells me that you are quite +capable of taking a school in Boston." + +"Then I should be doubly sure of your character," she retorted with a +twinkle. + +"Will you tell my fortune?" he said gayly. + +"Not on such a slight acquaintance," she replied. "Good-by, Mr. +Worthington." + +"I shall see you in Brampton," he cried, "I--I have seen you in +Brampton." + +She did not answer this confession, but left him, and presently +disappeared beyond the triangle of the green, while Mr. Worthington +pursued his way to Brampton by the road,--his thoughts that evening not +on waterfalls or machinery. As for Cynthia's conduct, I do not defend or +explain it, for I have found out that the best and wisest of women can at +times be coquettish. + +It was that meeting which shook the serenity of poor Moses, and he +learned of it when he went to Jonah Winch's store an hour later. An hour +later, indeed, Coniston was discussing the man of leisure in a new light. +It was possible that Cynthia might take him, and Deacon Ira Perkins made +a note the next time he went to Brampton to question Silas Wheelock on +Mr. Worthington's origin, habits, and orthodoxy. + +Cynthia troubled herself very little about any of these. Scarcely any +purpose in the world is single, but she had had a purpose in talking to +Mr. Worthington, besides the pleasure it gave her. And the next +Saturday, when she rode off to Brampton, some one looked through the +cracks in the tannery shed and saw that she wore her new bonnet. + +There is scarcely a pleasanter place in the world than Brampton Street on +a summer's day. Down the length of it runs a wide green, shaded by +spreading trees, and on either side, tree-shaded, too, and each in its +own little plot, gabled houses of that simple, graceful architecture of +our forefathers. Some of these had fluted pilasters and cornices, the +envy of many a modern architect, and fan-shaped windows in dormer and +doorway. And there was the church, then new, that still stands to the +glory of its builders; with terraced steeple and pillared porch and the +widest of checker-paned sashes to let in the light on high-backed pews +and gallery. + +The celebrated Social Library, halfway up the street, occupied part of +Miss Lucretia's little house; or, it might better be said, Miss Lucretia +boarded with the Social Library. There Cynthia hitched her horse, gave +greeting to Mr. Ezra Graves and others who paused, and, before she was +fairly in the door, was clasped in Miss Lucretia's arms. There were new +books to be discussed, arrived by the stage the day before; but scarce +half an hour had passed before Cynthia started guiltily at a timid knock, +and Miss Lucretia rose briskly. + +"It must be Ezra Graves come for the Gibbon," she said. "He's early." +And she went to the door. Cynthia thought it was not Ezra. Then came +Miss Lucretia's voice from the entry:-- + +"Why, Mr. Worthington! Have you read the Last of the Mohicans already?" + +There he stood, indeed, the man of leisure, and to-day he wore his beaver +hat. No, he had not yet read the 'Last of the Mohicans.' There were +things in it that Mr. Worthington would like to discuss with Miss +Penniman. Was it not a social library? At this juncture there came a +giggle from within that made him turn scarlet, and he scarcely heard Miss +Lucretia offering to discuss the whole range of letters. Enter Mr. +Worthington, bows profoundly to Miss Lucretia's guest, his beaver in his +hand, and the discussion begins, Cynthia taking no part in it. Strangely +enough, Mr. Worthington's remarks on American Indians are not only +intelligent, but interesting. The clock strikes four, Miss Lucretia +starts up, suddenly remembering that she has promised to read to an +invalid, and with many regrets from Mr. Worthington, she departs. Then +he sits down again, twirling his beaver, while Cynthia looks at him in +quiet amusement. + +"I shall walk to Coniston again, next week," he announced. + +"What an energetic man!" said Cynthia. + +"I want to have my fortune told." + +"I hear that you walk a great deal," she remarked, "up and down Coniston +Water. I shall begin to think you romantic, Mr. Worthington--perhaps a +poet." + +"I don't walk up and down Coniston Water for that reason," he answered +earnestly. + +"Might I be so bold as to ask the reason?" she ventured. + +Great men have their weaknesses. And many, close-mouthed with their own +sex, will tell their cherished hopes to a woman, if their interests are +engaged. With a bas-relief of Isaac Worthington in the town library to- +day (his own library), and a full-length portrait of him in the capitol +of the state, who shall deny this title to greatness? + +He leaned a little toward her, his face illumined by his subject, which +was himself. + +"I will confide in you," he said, "that some day I shall build here in +Brampton a woollen mill which will be the best of its kind. If I gain +money, it will not be to hoard it or to waste it. I shall try to make +the town better for it, and the state, and I shall try to elevate my +neighbors." + +Cynthia could not deny that these were laudable ambitions. + +"Something tells me," he continued, "that I shall succeed. And that is +why I walk on Coniston Water--to choose the best site for a dam." + +"I am honored by your secret, but I feel that the responsibility you +repose in me is too great," she said. + +"I can think of none in whom I would rather confide," said he. + +"And am I the only one in all Brampton, Harwich, and Coniston who knows +this?" she asked. + +Mr. Worthington laughed. + +"The only one of importance," he answered. "This week, when I went to +Coniston, I had a strange experience. I left the brook at a tannery, and +a most singular fellow was in the shed shovelling bark. I tried to get +him to talk, and told him about some new tanning machinery I had seen. +Suddenly he turned on me and asked me if I was 'callatin' to set up a +mill.' He gave me a queer feeling. Do you have many such odd characters +in Coniston, Miss Cynthia? You're not going?" + +Cynthia had risen, and all of the laugher was gone from her eyes. What +had happened to make her grow suddenly grave, Isaac Worthington never +knew. + +"I have to get my father's supper," she said. + +He, too, rose, puzzled and disconcerted at this change in her. + +"And may I not come to Coniston?" he asked. + +"My father and I should be glad to see you, Mr. Worthington," she +answered. + +He untied her horse and essayed one more topic. + +"You are taking a very big book," he said. "May I look at the title?" + +She showed it to him in silence. It was the "Life of Napoleon +Bonaparte." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Isaac Worthington came to Coniston not once, but many times, before the +snow fell; and afterward, too, in Silas Wheelock's yellow sleigh through +the great drifts under the pines, the chestnut Morgan trotting to one +side in the tracks. On one of these excursions he fell in with that +singular character of a bumpkin who had interested him on his first +visit, in coonskin cap and overcoat and mittens. Jethro Bass was +plodding in the same direction, and Isaac Worthington, out of the +goodness of his heart, invited him into the sleigh. He was scarcely +prepared for the bumpkin's curt refusal, but put it down to native +boorishness, and thought no more about it then. + +What troubled Mr. Worthington infinitely more was the progress of his +suit; for it had become a snit, though progress is a wrong word to use in +connection with it. So far had he got,--not a great distance,--and then +came to what he at length discovered was a wall, and apparently +impenetrable. He was not even allowed to look over it. Cynthia was +kind, engaging; even mirthful, at times, save when he approached it; and +he became convinced that a certain sorrow lay in the forbidden ground. +The nearest he had come to it was when he mentioned again, by accident, +that life of Napoleon. + +That Cynthia would accept him, nobody doubted for an instant. It would +be madness not to. He was orthodox, so Deacon Ira had discovered, of +good habits, and there was the princely four hundred a year--almost a +minister's salary! Little people guessed that there was no love-making-- +only endless discussions of books beside the great centre chimney, and +discussions of Isaac Worthington's career. + +It is a fact--for future consideration--that Isaac Worthington proposed +to Cynthia Ware, although neither Speedy Bates nor Deacon Ira Perkins +heard him do so. It had been very carefully prepared, that speech, and +was a model of proposals for the rising young men of all time. Mr. +Worthington preferred to offer himself for what he was going to be--not +for what he was. He tendered to Cynthia a note for a large amount, +payable in some twenty years, with interest. The astonishing thing to +record is that in twenty years he could have more than paid the note, +although he could not have foreseen at that time the Worthington Free +Library and the Truro Railroad, and the stained-glass window in the +church and the great marble monument on the hill--to another woman. All +of these things, and more, Cynthia might have had if she had only +accepted that promise to pay! But she did not accept it. He was a +trifle more robust than when he came to Brampton in the summer, but +perhaps she doubted his promise to pay. + +It may have been guessed, although the language we have used has been +purposely delicate, that Cynthia was already in love with--somebody else. +Shame of shames and horror of horrors--with Jethro Bass! With Strength, +in the crudest form in which it is created, perhaps, but yet with +Strength. The strength might gradually and eventually be refined. Such +was her hope, when she had any. It is hard, looking back upon that +virginal and cultured Cynthia, to be convinced that she could have loved +passionately, and such a man! But love she did, and passionately, too, +and hated herself for it, and prayed and struggled to cast out what she +believed, at times, to be a devil. + +The ancient allegory of Cupid and the arrows has never been improved +upon: of Cupid, who should never in the world have been trusted with a +weapon, who defies all game laws, who shoots people in the bushes and +innocent bystanders generally, the weak and the helpless and the strong +and self-confident! There is no more reason in it than that. He shot +Cynthia Ware, and what she suffered in secret Coniston never guessed. +What parallels in history shall I quote to bring home the enormity of +such a mesalliance? Orthodox Coniston would have gone into sackcloth and +ashes,--was soon to go into these, anyway. + +I am not trying to keep the lovers apart for any mere purposes of +fiction,--this is a true chronicle, and they stayed apart most of that +winter. Jethro went about his daily tasks, which were now become +manifold, and he wore the locket on its little chain himself. He did not +think that Cynthia loved him--yet, but he had the effrontery to believe +that she might, some day; and he was content to wait. He saw that she +avoided him, and he was too proud to go to the parsonage and so incur +ridicule and contempt. + +Jethro was content to wait. That is a clew to his character throughout +his life. He would wait for his love, he would wait for his hate: he had +waited ten years before putting into practice the first step of a little +scheme which he had been gradually developing during that time, for which +he had been amassing money, and the life of Napoleon Bonaparte, by the +way, had given him some valuable ideas. Jethro, as well as Isaac D. +Worthington, had ambitions, although no one in Coniston had hitherto +guessed them except Jock Hallowell--and Cynthia Ware, after her curiosity +had been aroused. + +Even as Isaac D. Worthington did not dream of the Truro Railroad and of +an era in the haze of futurity, it did not occur to Jethro Bass that his +ambitions tended to the making of another era that was at hand. Makers +of eras are too busy thinking about themselves and like immediate matters +to worry about history. Jethro never heard the expression about "cracks +in the Constitution," and would not have known what it meant,--he merely +had the desire to get on top. But with Established Church Coniston tight +in the saddle (in the person of Moses Hatch, Senior), how was he to do +it? + +As the winter wore on, and March town meeting approached, strange rumors +of a Democratic ticket began to drift into Jonah Winch's store,--a +Democratic ticket headed by Fletcher Bartlett, of all men, as chairman of +the board. Moses laughed when he first heard of it, for Fletcher was an +easy-going farmer of the Methodist persuasion who was always in debt, and +the other members of the ticket, so far as Moses could learn of it--were +remarkable neither for orthodoxy or solidity. The rumors persisted, and +still Moses laughed, for the senior selectman was a big man with flesh on +him, who could laugh with dignity. + +"Moses," said Deacon Lysander Richardson as they stood on the platform of +the store one sunny Saturday in February, "somebody's put Fletcher up to +this. He hain't got sense enough to act that independent all by +himself." + +"You be always croakin', Lysander," answered Moses. + +Cynthia Ware, who had come to the store for buttons for Speedy Bates, who +was making a new coat for the minister, heard these remarks, and stood +thoughtfully staring at the blue coat-tails of the elders. A brass +button was gone from Deacon Lysander's, and she wanted to sew it on. +Suddenly she looked up, and saw Jock Hallowell standing beside her. Jock +winked--and Cynthia blushed and hurried homeward without a word. She +remembered, vividly enough, what Jack had told her the spring before, and +several times during the week that followed she thought of waylaying him +and asking what he knew. But she could not summon the courage. As a +matter of fact, Jock knew nothing, but he had a theory. He was a strange +man, Jock, who whistled all day on roof and steeple and meddled with +nobody's business, as a rule. What had impelled him to talk to Cynthia +in the way he had must remain a mystery. + +Meanwhile the disquieting rumors continued to come in. Jabez Miller, on +the north slope, had told Samuel Todd, who told Ephraim Williams, that he +was going to vote for Fletcher. Moses Hatch hitched up his team and went +out to see Jabez, spent an hour in general conversation, and then plumped +the question, taking, as he said, that means of finding out. Jabez +hemmed and hawed, said his farm was mortgaged; spoke at some length about +the American citizen, however humble, having a right to vote as he chose. +A most unusual line for Jabez, and the whole matter very mysterious and +not a little ominous. Moses drove homeward that sparkling day, shutting +his eyes to the glare of the ice crystals on the pines, and thinking +profoundly. He made other excursions, enough to satisfy himself that +this disease, so new and unheard of (the right of the unfit to hold +office), actually existed. Where the germ began that caused it, Moses +knew no better than the deacon, since those who were suspected of +leanings toward Fletcher Bartlett were strangely secretive. The +practical result of Moses' profound thought was a meeting, in his own +house, without respect to party, Democrats and Whigs alike, opened by a +prayer from the minister himself. The meeting, after a futile session, +broke up dismally. Sedition and conspiracy existed; a chief offender and +master mind there was, somewhere. But who was he? + +Good Mr. Ware went home, troubled in spirit, shaking his head. He had a +cold, and was not so strong as he used to be, and should not have gone to +the meeting at all. At supper, Cynthia listened with her eyes on her +plate while he told her of the affair. + +"Somebody's behind this, Cynthia," he said. "It's the most astonishing +thing in my experience that we cannot discover who has incited them. All +the unattached people in the town seem to have been organized." Mr. Ware +was wont to speak with moderation even at his own table. He said +unattached--not ungodly. + +Cynthia kept her eyes on her plate, but she felt as though her body were +afire. Little did the minister imagine, as he went off to write his +sermon, that his daughter might have given him the clew to the mystery. +Yes, Cynthia guessed; and she could not read that evening because of the +tumult of her thoughts. What was her duty in the matter? To tell her +father her suspicions? They were only suspicions, after all, and she +could make no accusations. And Jethro! Although she condemned him, +there was something in the situation that appealed to a most +reprehensible sense of humor. Cynthia caught herself smiling once or +twice, and knew that it was wicked. She excused Jethro, and told herself +that, with his lack of training, he could know no better. Then an idea +came to her, and the very boldness of it made her grow hot again. She +would appeal to him tell him that that power he had over other men could +be put to better and finer uses. She would appeal to him, and he would +abandon the matter. That the man loved her with the whole of his rude +strength she was sure, and that knowledge had been the only salve to her +shame. + +So far we have only suspicions ourselves; and, strange to relate, if we +go around Coniston with Jethro behind his little red Morgan, we shall +come back with nothing but--suspicions. They will amount to convictions, +yet we cannot prove them. The reader very naturally demands some +specific information--how did Jethro do it? I confess that I can only +indicate in a very general way: I can prove nothing. Nobody ever could +prove anything against Jethro Bass. Bring the following evidence before +any grand jury in the country, and see if they don't throw it out of +court. + +Jethro in the course of his weekly round of strictly business visits +throughout the town, drives into Samuel Todd's farmyard, and hitches on +the sunny side of the red barns. The town of Coniston, it must be +explained for the benefit of those who do not understand the word "town" +in the New England senses was a tract of country about ten miles by ten, +the most thickly settled portion of which was the village of Coniston, +consisting of twelve houses. Jethro drives into the barnyard, and Samuel +Todd comes out. He is a little man, and has a habit of rubbing the sharp +ridge of his nose. + +"How be you, Jethro?" says Samuel. "Killed the brindle Thursday. Finest +hide you ever seed." + +"G-goin' to town meetin' Tuesday--g-goin' to town meetin' Tuesday-- +Sam'l?" says Jethro. + +"I was callatin' to, Jethro." + +"Democrat--hain't ye--Democrat?" + +"Callate to be." + +"How much store do ye set by that hide?" + +Samuel rubs his nose. Then he names a price that the hide might fetch, +under favorable circumstances, in Boston--Jethro does not wince. + +"Who d'ye callate to vote for, Sam'l?" + +Samuel rubs his nose. + +"Heerd they was a-goin' to put up Fletcher and Amos Cuthbert, an' Sam +Price for Moderator." (What a convenient word is they when used +politically!) "Hain't made up my mind, clear," says Samuel. + +"C-comin' by the tannery after town meetin'?" inquired Jethro, casually. + +"Don't know but what I kin." + +"F-fetch the hide--f-fetch the hide." + +And Jethro drives off, with Samuel looking after him, rubbing his nose. +"No bill," says the jury--if you can get Samuel into court. But you +can't. Even Moses Hatch can get nothing out of Samuel, who then talks +Jacksonian principles and the nights of an American citizen. + +Let us pursue this matter a little farther, and form a committee of +investigation. Where did Mr. Todd learn anything about Jacksonian +principles? From Mr. Samuel Price, whom they have spoken of for +Moderator. And where did Mr. Price learn of these principles? Any one +in Coniston will tell you that Mr. Price makes a specialty of orators and +oratory; and will hold forth at the drop of a hat in Jonah Winch's store +or anywhere else. Who is Mr. Price? He is a tall, sallow young man of +eight and twenty, with a wedge-shaped face, a bachelor and a Methodist, +who farms in a small way on the southern slope, and saves his money. He +has become almost insupportable since they have named him for Moderator. + +Get Mr. Sam Price into court. Here is a man who assuredly knows who they +are: if we are, not much mistaken, he is their mouthpiece. Get, an eel +into court. There is only one man in town who can hold an eel, and he +isn't on the jury. Mr. Price will talk plentifully, in his nasal way; +but he won't tell you anything. + +Mr. Price has been nominated to fill Deacon Lysander Richardson's shoes +in the following manner: One day in the late autumn a man in a coonskin +cap stops beside Mr. Price's woodpile, where Mr. Price has been chopping +wood, pausing occasionally to stare off through the purple haze at the +south shoulder of Coniston Mountain. + +"How be you, Jethro?" says Mr. Price, nasally. + +"D-Democrats are talkin' some of namin' you Moderator next meetin'," says +the man in the coonskin cap. + +"Want to know!" ejaculates Mr. Price, dropping the axe and straightening +up in amazement. For Mr. Price's ambition soared no higher, and he had +made no secret of it. "Wal! Whar'd you hear that, Jethro?" + +"H-heerd it round--some. D-Democrat--hain't you--Democrat?" + +"Always callate to be." + +"J-Jacksonian Democrat?" + +"Guess I be." + +Silence for a while, that Mr. Price may feel the gavel in his hand, which +he does. + +"Know somewhat about Jacksonian principles, don't ye--know somewhat?" + +Callate to," says Mr. Price, proudly. + +"T-talk 'em up, Sam--t-talk 'em up. C-canvass, Sam." + +With these words of brotherly advice Mr. Bass went off down the road, and +Mr. Price chopped no more wood that night; but repeated to himself many +times in his nasal voice, "I want to know!" In the course of the next +few weeks various gentlemen mentioned to Mr. Price that he had been +spoken of for Moderator, and he became acquainted with the names of the +other candidates on the same mysterious ticket who were mentioned. +Whereupon he girded up his loins and went forth and preached the word of +Jacksonian Democracy in all the farmhouses roundabout, with such effect +that Samuel Todd and others were able to talk with some fluency about the +rights of American citizens. + +Question before the Committee, undisposed of: Who nominated Samuel Price +for Moderator? Samuel Price gives the evidence, tells the court he does +not know, and is duly cautioned and excused. + +Let us call, next, Mr. Eben Williams, if we can. Moses Hatch, Senior, +has already interrogated him with all the authority of the law and the +church, for Mr. Williams is orthodox, though the deacons have to remind +him of his duty once in a while. Eben is timid, and replies to us, as to +Moses, that he has heard of the Democratic ticket, and callates that +Fletcher Bartlett, who has always been the leader of the Democratic +party, has named the ticket. He did not mention Jethro Bass to Deacon +Hatch. Why should he? What has Jethro Bass got to do with politics? + +Eben lives on a southern spur, next to Amos Cuthbert, where you can look +off for forty miles across the billowy mountains of the west. From no +spot in Coniston town is the sunset so fine on distant Farewell Mountain, +and Eben's sheep feed on pastures where only mountain-bred sheep can +cling and thrive. Coniston, be it known, at this time is one of the +famous wool towns of New England: before the industry went West, with +other industries. But Eben Williams's sheep do not wholly belong to him +they are mortgaged--and Eben's farm is mortgaged. + +Jethro Bass--Eben testifies to us--is in the habit of visiting him once a +month, perhaps, when he goes to Amos Cuthbert's. Just friendly calls. +Is it not a fact that Jethro Bass holds his mortgage? Yes, for eight +hundred dollars. How long has he held that mortgage? About a year and a +half. Has the interest been paid promptly? Well, the fact is that Eben +hasn't paid any interest yet. + +Now let us take the concrete incident. Before that hypocritical thaw +early in February, Jethro called upon Amos Cuthbert--not so surly then as +he has since become--and talked about buying his wool when it should be +duly cut, and permitted Amos to talk about the position of second +selectman, for which some person or persons unknown to the jury had +nominated him. On his way down to the Four Corners, Jethro had merely +pulled up his sleigh before Eben Williams's house, which stood behind a +huge snow bank and practically on the road. Eben appeared at the door, a +little dishevelled in hair and beard, for he had been sleeping. + +"How be you, Jethro?" he said nervously. Jethro nodded. + +"Weather looks a mite soft." + +No answer. + +"About that interest," said Eben, plunging into the dread subject, "don't +know as I'm ready this month after all." + +"G-goin' to town meetin', Eben?" + +"Wahn't callatin' to," answered Eben. + +"G-goin' to town meetin', Eben?" + +Eben, puzzled and dismayed, ran his hand through his hair. + +"Wahn't callatin' to--but I kin--I kin." + +"D-Democrat--hain't ye--D-Democrat?" + +"I kin be," said Eben. Then he looked at Jethro and added in a startled +voice, "Don't know but what I be--Yes, I guess I be." + +"H-heerd the ticket?" + +Yes, Eben had heard the ticket. What man had not. Some one has been +most industrious, and most disinterested, in distributing that ticket. + +"Hain't a mite of hurry about the interest right now--right now," said +Jethro. "M-may be along the third week in March--may be--c-can t tell." + +And Jethro clucked to his horse, and drove away. Eben Williams went back +into his house and sat down with his head in his hands. In about two +hours, when his wife called him to fetch water, he set down the pail on +the snow and stared across the next ridge at the eastern horizon, +whitening after the sunset. + +The third week in March was the week after town meeting! + +"M-may be--c-can't tell," repeated Eben to himself, unconsciously +imitating Jethro's stutter. "Godfrey, I'll hev to git that ticket +straight from Amos." + +Yes, we may have our suspicions. But how can we get a bill on this +evidence? There are some thirty other individuals in Coniston whose +mortgages Jethro holds, from a horse to a house and farm. It is not +likely that they will tell Beacon Hatch, or us; that they are going to +town meeting and vote for that fatherless ticket because Jethro Bass +wishes them to do so. And Jethro has never said that he wishes them to. +If so, where are your witnesses? Have we not come back to our starting- +point, even as Moses Hatch drove around in a circle.. And we have the +advantage over Moses, for we suspect somebody, and he did not know whom +to suspect. Certainly not Jethro Bass, the man that lived under his nose +and never said anything--and had no right to. Jethro Bass had never +taken any active part in politics, though some folks had heard, in his +rounds on business, that he had discussed them, and had spread the news +of the infamous ticket without a parent. So much was spoken of at the +meeting over which Priest Ware prayed. It was even declared that, being +a Democrat, Jethro might have influenced some of those under obligations +to him. Sam Price was at last fixed upon as the malefactor, though +people agreed that they had not given him credit for so much sense, and +Jacksonian principles became as much abhorred by the orthodox as the +spotted fever. + +We can call a host of other witnesses if we like, among them cranky, +happy-go-lucky Fletcher Bartlett, who has led forlorn hopes in former +years. Court proceedings make tiresome reading, and if those who have +been over ours have not arrived at some notion of the simple and innocent +method of the new Era of politics note dawning--they never will. Nothing +proved. But here is part of the ticket which nobody started:-- + + For + + SENIOR SELECTMAN, FLETCHER BARTLETT. + + (Farm and buildings on Thousand Acre Hill mortgaged to Jethro + Bass.) + + SECOND SELECTMAN, AMOS CUTHBERT. + + (Farm and buildings on Town's End Ridge mortgaged to Jethro + Bass.) + + THIRD SELECTMAN, CHESTER PERKINS. + + (Sop of some kind to the Established Church party. Horse and + cow mortgaged to Jethro Bass, though his father, the tithing- + man, doesn't know it.) + + MODERATOR, SAMUEL PRICE. + + (Natural ambition--dove of oratory and Jacksonian principles.) + + etc., etc. + +The notes are mine, not Moses's. Strange that they didn't occur to +Moses. What a wealthy man has our hero become at thirty-one! Jethro Bass +was rich beyond the dreams of avarice--for Coniston. Truth compels me to +admit that the sum total of all his mortgages did not amount to nine +thousand "dollars"; but that was a large sum of money for Coniston in +those days, and even now. Nathan Bass had been a saving man, and had +left to his son one-half of this fortune. If thrift and the ability to +gain wealth be qualities for a hero, Jethro had them--in those days. + +The Sunday before March meeting, it blew bitter cold, and Priest Ware, +preaching in mittens, denounced sedition in general. Underneath him, on +the first landing of the high pulpit, the deacons sat with knitted brows, +and the key-note from Isaiah Prescott's pitch pipe sounded like mournful +echo of the mournful wind without. + +Monday was ushered in with that sleet storm to which the almanacs still +refer, and another scarcely less important event occurred that day which +we shall have to pass by for the present; on Tuesday, the sleet still +raging, came the historic town meeting. Deacon Moses Hatch, his chores +done and his breakfast and prayers completed, fought his way with his +head down through a white waste to the meeting-house door, and unlocked +it, and shivered as he made the fire. It was certainly not good election +weather, thought Moses, and others of the orthodox persuasion, high in +office, were of the same opinion as they stood with parted coat tails +before the stove. Whoever had stirred up and organized the hordes, +whoever was the author of that ticket of the discontented, had not +counted upon the sleet. Heaven-sent sleet, said Deacon Ira Perkins, and +would not speak to his son Chester, who sat down just then in one of the +rear slips. Chester had become an agitator, a Jacksonian Democrat, and +an outcast, to be prayed for but not spoken to. + +We shall leave them their peace of mind for half an hour more, those +stanch old deacons and selectmen, who did their duty by their fellow- +citizens as they saw it and took no man's bidding. They could not see +the trackless roads over the hills, now becoming tracked, and the bent +figures driving doggedly against the storm, each impelled by a motive: +each motive strengthened by a master mind until it had become imperative. +Some, like Eben Williams behind his rickety horse, came through fear; +others through ambition; others were actuated by both; and still others +were stung by the pain of the sleet to a still greater jealousy and envy, +and the remembrance of those who had been in power. I must not omit the +conscientious Jacksonians who were misguided enough to believe in such a +ticket. + +The sheds were not large enough to hold the teams that day. Jethro's +barn and tannery were full, and many other barns in the village. And now +the peace of mind of the orthodox is a thing of the past. Deacon +Lysander Richardson, the moderator, sits aghast in his high place as they +come trooping in, men who have not been to town meeting for ten years. +Deacon Lysander, with his white band of whiskers that goes around his +neck like a sixteenth-century ruff under his chin, will soon be a memory. +Now enters one, if Deacon Lysander had known it symbolic of the new Era. +One who, though his large head is bent, towers over most of the men who +make way for him in the aisle, nodding but not speaking, and takes his +place in the chair under the platform on the right of the meeting-pause +under one of the high, three-part windows. That chair was always his in +future years, and there he sat afterward, silent, apparently taking no +part. But not a man dropped a ballot into the box whom Jethro Bass did +not see and mark. + +And now, when the meeting-house is crowded as it has never been before, +when Jonah Winch has arranged his dinner booth in the corner, Deacon +Lysander raps for order and the minister prays. They proceed, first, to +elect a representative to the General Court. The Jacksonians do not +contest that seat,--this year,--and Isaiah Prescott, fourteenth child of +Timothy, the Stark hero, father of a young Ephraim whom we shall hear +from later, is elected. And now! Now for a sensation, now for disorder +and misrule! + +"Gentlemen," says Deacon Lysander, "you will prepare your ballots for the +choice of the first Selectman." + +The Whigs have theirs written out, Deacon Moses Hatch. But who has +written out these others that are being so assiduously passed around? +Sam Price, perhaps, for he is passing them most assiduously. And what +name is written on them? Fletcher Bartlett, of course; that was on the +ticket. Somebody is tricked again. That is not the name on the ticket. +Look over Sara Price's shoulder and you will see the name--Jethro Bass. + +It bursts from the lips of Fletcher Bartlett himself--of Fletcher, +inflammable as gunpowder. + +"Gentlemen, I withdraw as your candidate, and nominate a better and an +abler man,--Jethro Bass." + +"Jethro Bass for Chairman of the Selectmen!" + +The cry is taken up all over the meeting-house, and rises high above the +hiss of the sleet on the great windows. Somebody's got on the stove, to +add to the confusion and horror. The only man in the whole place who is +not excited is Jethro Bass himself, who sits in his chair regardless of +those pressing around him. Many years afterward he confessed to some one +that he was surprised--and this is true. Fletcher Bartlett had surprised +and tricked him, but was forgiven. Forty men are howling at the +moderator, who is pounding on the table with a blacksmith's blows. +Squire Asa Northcutt, with his arms fanning like a windmill from the edge +of the platform, at length shouts down everybody else--down to a hum. +Some listen to him: hear the words "infamous outrage"--"if Jethro Bass is +elected Selectman, Coniston will never be able to hold up her head among +her sister towns for very shame." (Momentary blank, for somebody has got +on the stove again, a scuffle going on there.) "I see it all now," says +the Squire--(marvel of perspicacity!) "Jethro Bass has debased and +debauched this town--" (blank again, and the squire points a finger of +rage and scorn at the unmoved offender in the chair) "he has bought and +intimidated men to do his bidding. He has sinned against heaven, and +against the spirit of that most immortal of documents--" (Blank again. +Most unfortunate blank, for this is becoming oratory, but somebody from +below has seized the squire by the leg.) Squire Northcutt is too +dignified and elderly a person to descend to rough and tumble, but he did +get his leg liberated and kicked Fletcher Bartlett in the face. Oh, +Coniston, that such scenes should take place in your town meeting! By +this time another is orating, Mr. Sam Price, Jackson Democrat. There was +no shorthand reporter in Coniston in those days, and it is just as well, +perhaps, that the accusations and recriminations should sink into +oblivion. + +At last, by mighty efforts of the peace loving in both parties, something +like order is restored, the ballots are in the box, and Deacon Lysander +is counting them: not like another moderator I have heard of, who spilled +the votes on the floor until his own man was elected. No. Had they +registered his own death sentence, the deacon would have counted them +straight, and needed no town clerk to verify his figures. But when he +came to pronounce the vote, shame and sorrow and mortification overcame +him. Coniston, his native town, which he had served and revered, was +dishonored, and it was for him, Lysander Richardson, to proclaim her +disgrace. The deacon choked, and tears of bitterness stood in his eyes, +and there came a silence only broken by the surging of the sleet as he +rapped on the table. + +"Seventy-five votes have been cast for Jethro Bass--sixty-three for Moses +Hatch. Necessary for a choice, seventy--and Jethro Bass is elected +senior Selectman." + +The deacon sat down, and men say that a great sob shook him, while +Jacksonian Democracy went wild--not looking into future years to see what +they were going wild about. Jethro Bass Chairman of the Board of +Selectmen, in the honored place of Deacon Moses Hatch! Bourbon royalists +never looked with greater abhorrence on the Corsican adventurer and +usurper of the throne than did the orthodox in Coniston on this tanner, +who had earned no right to aspire to any distinction, and who by his +wiles had acquired the highest office in the town government. Fletcher +Bartlett in, as a leader of the irresponsible opposition, would have been +calamity enough. But Jethro Bass! + +This man whom they had despised was the master mind who had organized and +marshalled the loose vote, was the author of that ticket, who sat in his +corner unmoved alike by the congratulations of his friends and the +maledictions of his enemies; who rose to take his oath of office as +unconcerned as though the house were empty, albeit Deacon Lysander could +scarcely get the words out. And then Jethro sat down again in his chair +--not to leave it for six and thirty years. From this time forth that +chair became a seat of power, and of dominion over a state. + +Thus it was that Jock Hallowell's prophecy, so lightly uttered, came to +pass. + +How the remainder of that Jacksonian ticket was elected, down to the very +hog-reeves, and amid what turmoil of the Democracy and bitterness of +spirit of the orthodox, I need not recount. There is no moral to the +story, alas--it was one of those things which inscrutable heaven +permitted to be done. After that dark town-meeting day some of those +stern old fathers became broken men, and it is said in Coniston that this +calamity to righteous government, and not the storm, gave to Priest Ware +his death-stroke. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +And now we must go back for a chapter--a very short chapter--to the day +before that town meeting which had so momentous an influence upon the +history of Coniston and of the state. That Monday, too, it will be +remembered, dawned in storm, the sleet hissing in the wide throats of the +centre-chimneys, and bearing down great boughs of trees until they broke +in agony. Dusk came early, and howling darkness that hid a muffled +figure on the ice-bound road staring at the yellow cracks in the tannery +door. Presently the figure crossed the yard; the door, flying open, +released a shaft of light that shot across the white ground, revealed a +face beneath a hood to him who stood within. + +"Jethro!" + +She darted swiftly past him, seizing the door and drawing it closed after +her. A lantern hung on the central post and flung its rays upon his +face. Her own, mercifully, was in the shadow, and burning now with a +shame that was insupportable. Now that she was there, beside him, her +strength failed her, and her courage--courage that she had been storing +for this dread undertaking throughout the whole of that dreadful day. +Now that she was there, she would have given her life to have been able +to retrace her steps, to lose herself in the wild, dark places of the +mountain. + +"Cynthy!" His voice betrayed the passion which her presence had +quickened. + +The words she would have spoken would not come. She could think of +nothing but that she was alone with him, and in bodily terror of him. +She turned to the door again, to grasp the wooden latch; but he barred +the way, and she fell back. + +"Let me go," she cried. "I did not mean to come. Do you hear?--let me +go!" + +To her amazement he stepped aside--a most unaccountable action for him. +More unaccountable still, she did not move, now that she was free, but +stood poised for flight, held by she knew not what. + +"G-go if you've a mind to, Cynthy--if you've a mind to." + +"I've come to say something to you," she faltered. It was not, at all +the way she had pictured herself as saying it. + +"H-haven't took' Moses--have you?" + +Oh," she cried, "do you think I came here to speak of such a thing as +that?" + +"H-haven't took--Moses, have you?" + +She was trembling, and yet she could almost have smiled at this well- +remembered trick of pertinacity. + +"No," she said, and immediately hated herself for answering him. + +"H-haven't took that Worthington cuss?" + +He was jealous! + +"I didn't come to discuss Mr. Worthington," she replied. + +"Folks say it's only a matter of time," said he. "Made up your mind to +take him, Cynthy? M-made up your mind?" + +"You've no right to talk to me in this way," she said, and added, the +words seeming to slip of themselves from her lips, "Why do you do it?" + +"Because I'm--interested," he said. + +"You haven't shown it," she flashed back, forgetting the place, and the +storm, and her errand even, forgetting that Jake Wheeler, or any one in +Coniston, might come and surprise her there. + +He took a step toward her, and she retreated. The light struck her face, +and he bent over her as though searching it for a sign. The cape on her +shoulders rose and fell as she breathed. + +"'Twahn't charity, Cynthy--was it? 'Twahn't charity?" + +"It was you who called it such," she answered, in a low voice. + +A sleet-charged gust hurled itself against the door, and the lantern +flickered. + +"Wahn't it charity." + +"It was friendship, Jethro. You ought to have known that, and you should +not have brought back the book." + +"Friendship," he repeated, "y-you said friendship?" + +"Yes." + +"M-meant friendship?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia, but more faintly, and yet with a certain delicious +fright as she glanced at him shyly. Surely there had never been a +stranger man! Now he was apparently in a revery. + +"G-guess it's because I'm not good enough to be anything more," he +remarked suddenly. "Is that it?" + +"You have not tried even to be a friend," she said. + +"H-how about Worthington?" he persisted. "Just friends with him?" + +"I won't talk about Mr. Worthington," cried Cynthia, desperately, and +retreated toward the lantern again. + +"J-just friends with Worthington?" + +"Why?" she asked, her words barely heard above the gust, "why do you want +to know?" + +He came after her. It was as if she had summoned some unseen, +uncontrollable power, only to be appalled by it, and the mountain-storm +without seemed the symbol of it. His very voice seemed to partake of its +strength. + +"Cynthy," he said, "if you'd took him, I'd have killed him. Cynthy, I +love you--I want you to be my woman--" + +"Your woman!" + +He caught her, struggling wildly, terror-stricken, in his arms, beat down +her hands, flung back her hood, and kissed her forehead--her hair, blown +by the wind--her lips. In that moment she felt the mystery of heaven and +hell, of all kinds of power. In that moment she was like a seed flying +in the storm above the mountain spruces whither, she knew not, cared not. +There was one thought that drifted across the chaos like a blue light of +the spirit: Could she control the storm? Could she say whither the +winds might blow, where the seed might be planted? Then she found +herself listening, struggling no longer, for he held her powerless. +Strangest of all, most hopeful of all, his own mind was working, though +his soul rocked with passion. + +"Cynthy--ever since we stopped that day on the road in Northcutt's woods, +I've thought of nothin' but to marry you--m-marry you. Then you give me +that book--I hain't had much education, but it come across me if you was +to help me that way--And when I seed you with Worthington, I could have +killed him easy as breakin' bark." + +"Hush, Jethro." + +She struggled free and leaped away from him, panting, while he tore open +his coat and drew forth something which gleamed in the lantern's rays--a +silver locket. Cynthia scarcely saw it. Her blood was throbbing in her +temples, she could not reason, but she knew that the appeal for the sake +of which she had stooped must be delivered now. + +"Jethro," she said, "do you know why I came here--why I came to you?" + +"No," he said. "No. W--wanted me, didn't you? Wanted me--I wanted you, +Cynthy." + +"I would never have come to you for that," she cried, "never!" + +"L-love me, Cynthy--love me, don't you?" + +How could he ask, seeing that she had been in his arms, and had not fled? +And yet she must go through with what she had come to do, at any cost. + +"Jethro, I have come to speak to you about the town meeting tomorrow." + +He halted as though he had been struck, his hand tightening over the +locket. + +"T-town meetin'?" + +"Yes. All this new organization is your doing," she cried. "Do you +think that I am foolish enough to believe that Fletcher Bartlett or Sam +Price planned this thing? No, Jethro. I know who has done it, and I +could have told them if they had asked me." + +He looked at her, and the light of a new admiration was in his eye. + +"Knowed it--did you?" + +"Yes," she answered, a little defiantly, "I did." + +"H-how'd you know it--how'd you know it, Cynthy?" How did she know it, +indeed? + +"I guessed it," said Cynthia, desperately, "knowing you, I guessed it." + +"A-always thought you was smart, Cynthy." + +"Tell me, did you do this thing?" + +"Th-thought you knowed it--th-thought you knowed." + +"I believe that these men are doing your bidding." + +"Hain't you guessin' a little mite too much; Cynthy?" + +"Jethro," she said, "you told me just now that--that you loved me. Don't +touch me!" she cried, when he would have taken her in his arms again. +"If you love me, you will tell me why you have done such a thing." + +What instinct there was in the man which forbade him speaking out to her, +I know not. I do believe that he would have confessed, if he could. +Isaac Worthington had been impelled to reveal his plans and aspirations, +but Jethro Bass was as powerless in this supreme moment of his life as +was Coniston Mountain to move the granite on which it stood. Cynthia's +heart sank, and a note of passionate appeal came into her voice. + +"Oh, Jethro!" she cried, "this is not the way to use your power, to +compel men like Eben Williams and Samuel Todd and--and Lyman Hull, who is +a drunkard and a vagabond, to come in and vote for those who are not fit +to hold office." She was using the minister's own arguments. "We have +always had clean men, and honorable and good men." + +He did not speak, but dropped his hands to his sides. His thoughts were +not to be fathomed, yet Cynthia took the movement for silent confession,- +-which it was not, and stood appalled at the very magnitude of his +accomplishment, astonished at the secrecy he had maintained. She had +heard that his name had been mentioned in the meeting at the house of +Moses Hatch as having taken part in the matter, and she guessed something +of certain of his methods. But she had felt his force, and knew that +this was not the only secret of his power. + +What might he not aspire to, if properly guided? No, she did not believe +him to be, unscrupulous--but merely ignorant: a man who was capable of +such love as she felt was in him, a man whom she could love, could not +mean to be unscrupulous. Defence of him leaped to her own lips. + +"You did not know what you were doing," she said. "I was sure of it, or +I would not have come to you. Oh, Jethro! you must stop it--you must +prevent this election." + +Her eyes met his, her own pleading, and the very wind without seemed to +pause for his answer. But what she asked was impossible. That wind +which he himself had loosed, which was to topple over institutions, was +rising, and he could no more have stopped it then than he could have +hushed the storm. + +"You will not do what I ask--now?" she said, very slowly. Then her voice +failed her, she drew her hands together, and it was as if her heart had +ceased to beat. Sorrow and anger and fierce shame overwhelmed her, and +she turned from him in silence and went to the door. + +"Cynthy," he cried hoarsely, "Cynthy!" + +"You must never speak to me again," she said, and was gone into the +storm. + +Yes, she had failed. But she did not know that she had left something +behind which he treasured as long as he lived. + +In the spring, when the new leaves were green on the slopes of Coniston, +Priest Ware ended a life of faithful service. The high pulpit, taken +from the old meeting house, and the cricket on which he used to stand and +the Bible from which he used to preach have remained objects of +veneration in Coniston to this day. A fortnight later many tearful faces +gazed after the Truro coach as it galloped out of Brampton in a cloud of +dust, and one there was watching unseen from the spruces on the hill, who +saw within it a girl dressed in black, dry-eyed, staring from the window. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Out of the stump of a blasted tree in the Coniston woods a flower will +sometimes grow, and even so the story which I have now to tell springs +from the love of Cynthia Ware and Jethro Bass. The flower, when it came +to bloom, was fair in life, and I hope that in these pages it will not +lose too much of its beauty and sweetness. + +For a little while we are going to gallop through the years as before we +have ambled through the days, although the reader's breath may be taken +away in the process. How Cynthia Ware went over the Truro Pass to +Boston, and how she became a teacher in a high school there;--largely +through the kindness of that Miss Lucretia Penniman of whom we have +spoken, who wrote in Cynthia's behalf to certain friends she had in that +city; how she met one William Wetherell, no longer a clerk in Mr. +Judson's jewellery shop, but a newspaper man with I know not what +ambitions--and limitations in strength of body and will; how, many, many +years afterward, she nursed him tenderly through a sickness and--married +him, is all told in a paragraph. Marry him she did, to take care of him, +and told him so. She made no secret of the maternal in this love. + +One evening, the summer after their marriage, they were walking in the +Mall under the great elms that border the Common on the Tremont Street +side. They often used to wander there, talking of the books he was to +write when strength should come and a little leisure, and sometimes their +glances would linger longingly on Colonnade Row that Bulfinch built across +the way, where dwelt the rich and powerful of the city--and yet he would +not have exchanged their lot for his. Could he have earned with his own +hands such a house, and sit Cynthia there in glory, what happiness! +But, I stray. + +They were walking in the twilight, for the sun had sunk all red in the +marshes of the Charles, when there chanced along a certain Mr. Judson, a +jeweller, taking the air likewise. So there came into Wetherell's mind +that amusing adventure with the country lad and the locket. His name, by +reason of some strange quality in it, he had never forgotten, and +suddenly he recalled that the place the countryman had come from was +Coniston. + +"Cynthia," said her husband, when Mr. Judson was gone, "did you know any +one in Coniston named Jethro Bass?" + +She did not answer him. And, thinking she had not heard, he spoke again. + +"Why do you ask?" she said, in a low tone, without looking at him. + +He told her the story. Not until the end of it did the significance of +the name engraved come to him--Cynthy. + +"Cynthy, from Jethro." + +"Why, it might have been you!" he said jestingly. "Was he an admirer of +yours, Cynthia, that strange, uncouth countryman? Did he give you the +locket?" + +"No," she answered, "he never did." + +Wetherell glanced at her in surprise, and saw that her lip was quivering, +that tears were on her lashes. She laid her hand on his arm. + +"William," she said, drawing him to a bench, "come, let us sit down, and +I will tell you the story of Jethro Bass. We have been happy together, +you and I, for I have found peace with you. I have tried to be honest +with you, William, and I will always be so. I told you before we were +married that I loved another man. I have tried to forget him, but as God +is my judge, I cannot. I believe I shall love him until I die." + +They sat in the summer twilight, until darkness fell, and the lights +gleamed through the leaves, and a deep, cool breath coming up from the +sea stirred the leaves above their heads. That she should have loved +Jethro seemed as strange to her as to him, and yet Wetherell was to feel +the irresistible force of him. Hers was not a love that she chose, or +would have chosen, but something elemental that cried out from the man to +her, and drew her. Something that had in it now, as of yore, much of +pain and even terror, but drew her. Strangest of all was that William +Wetherell understood and was not jealous of this thing: which leads us to +believe that some essence of virility was lacking in him, some substance +that makes the fighters and conquerors in this world. In such mood he +listened to the story of Jethro Bass. + +"My dear husband," said Cynthia, when she had finished, her hand +tightening over his, "I have never told you this for fear that it might +trouble you as it has troubled me. I have found in your love sanctuary; +and all that remains of myself I have given to you." + +"You have found a weakling to protect, and an invalid to nurse," he +answered. "To have your compassion, Cynthia, is all I crave." + +So they lived through the happiest and swiftest years of his life, +working side by side, sharing this strange secret between them. And +after that night Cynthia talked to him often of Coniston, until he came +to know the mountain that lay along the western sky, and the sweet +hillsides by Coniston Water under the blue haze of autumn, aye, and +clothed in the colors of spring, the bright blossoms of thorn and apple +against the tender green of the woods and fields. So he grew to love the +simple people there, but little did he foresee that he was to end his +life among them! + +But so it came to pass, she was taken from him, who had been the one joy +and inspiration of his weary days, and he was driven, wandering, into +unfrequented streets that he might not recall, the places where she had +once trod, and through the wakeful nights her voice haunted him,--its +laughter, its sweet notes of seriousness; little ways and manners of her +look came to twist his heart, and he prayed God to take him, too, until +it seemed that Cynthia frowned upon him for his weakness. One mild +Sunday afternoon, he took little Cynthia by the hand and led her, +toddling, out into the sunny Common, where he used to walk with her +mother, and the infant prattle seemed to bring--at last a strange peace +to his storm-tossed soul. + +For many years these Sunday walks in the Common were Wetherell's greatest +pleasure and solace, and it seemed as though little Cynthia had come into +the world with an instinct, as it were, of her mission that lent to her +infant words a sweet gravity and weight. Many people used to stop and +speak to the child, among them a great physician whom they grew to know. +He was, there every Sunday, and at length it came to be a habit with him +to sit down on the bench and take Cynthia on his knee, and his stern face +would soften as he talked to her. + +One Sunday when Cynthia was eight years old he missed them, and the next, +and at dusk he strode into their little lodging behind the hill and up to +the bedside. He glanced at Wetherell, patting Cynthia on the head the +while, and bade her cheerily to go out of the room. But she held tight +hold of her father's hand and looked up at the doctor bravely. + +"I am taking care of my father," she said. + +"So you shall, little woman," he answered. "I would that we had such +nurses as you at the hospital. Why didn't you send for me at once?" + +"I wanted to," said Cynthia. + +"Bless her good sense;" said the doctor; "she has more than you, +Wetherell. Why didn't you take her advice? If your father does not do +as I tell him, he will be a very sick man indeed. He must go into the +country and stay there." + +"But I must live, Doctor," said William Wetherell. + +The doctor looked at Cynthia. + +"You will not live if you stay here," he replied. + +"Then he will go," said Cynthia, so quietly that he gave her another +look, strange and tender and comprehending. He, sat and talked of many +things: of the great war that was agonizing the nation; of the strong man +who, harassed and suffering himself, was striving to guide it, likening +Lincoln unto a physician. So the doctor was wont to take the minds of +patients from themselves. And before he left he gave poor Wetherell a +fortnight to decide. + +As he lay on his back in that room among the chimney tops trying vainly +to solve the problem of how he was to earn his salt in the country, a +visitor was climbing the last steep flight of stairs. That visitor was +none other than Sergeant Ephraim Prescott, son of Isaiah of the pitch- +pipe, and own cousin of Cynthia Ware's. Sergeant Ephraim was just home +from the war and still clad in blue, and he walked with a slight limp by +reason of a bullet he had got in the Wilderness, and he had such an +honest, genial face that little Cynthia was on his knee in a moment. + +"How be you, Will? Kind of poorly, I callate. So Cynthy's b'en took," +he said sadly. "Always thought a sight of Cynthy. Little Cynthy favors +her some. Yes, thought I'd drop in and see how you be on my way home." + +Sergeant Ephraim had much to say about the great war, and about Coniston. +True to the instincts of the blood of the Stark hero, he had left the +plough and the furrow' at the first call, forty years of age though he +was. But it had been otherwise with many in Coniston and Brampton and +Harwich. Some of these, when the drafting came, had fled in bands to the +mountain and defied capture. Mr. Dudley Worthington, now a mill owner, +had found a substitute; Heth Sutton of Clovelly had been drafted and had +driven over the mountain to implore Jethro Bass abjectly to get him out +of it. In short, many funny things had happened--funny things to +Sergeant Ephraim, but not at all to William Wetherell, who sympathized +with Heth in his panic. + +"So Jethro Bass has become a great man," said Wetherell. + +"Great!" Ephraim ejaculated. "Guess he's the biggest man in the state +to-day. Queer how he got his power began twenty-four years ago when I +wahn't but twenty. I call that town meetin' to mind as if 'twas +yesterday never was such an upset. Jethro's be'n first Selectman ever +sense, though he turned Republican in '60. Old folks don't fancy +Jethro's kind of politics much, but times change. Jethro saved my life, +I guess." + +"Saved your life!" exclaimed Wetherell. + +"Got me a furlough," said Ephraim. "Guess I would have died in the +hospital if he hadn't got it so all-fired quick, and he druv down to +Brampton to fetch me back. You'd have thought I was General Grant the +way folks treated me." + +"You went back to the war. after your leg healed?" Wetherell asked, in +wondering admiration of the man's courage. + +"Well," said Ephraim, simply, "the other boys was gettin' full of bullets +and dysentery, and it didn't seem just right. The leg troubles me some +on wet days, but not to amount to much. You hain't thinkin' of dyin' +yourself, be ye, William?" + +William was thinking very seriously of it, but it was Cynthia who spoke, +and startled them both. + +"The doctor says he will die if he doesn't go to the country." + +"Somethin' like consumption, William?" asked Ephraim. + +"So the doctor said." + +"So I callated," said Ephraim. "Come back to Coniston with me; there +hain't a healthier place in New England." + +"How could I support myself in Coniston?" Wetherell asked. + +Ephraim ruminated. Suddenly he stuck his hand into the bosom of his blue +coat, and his face lighted and even gushed as he drew out a crumpled +letter. + +"It don't take much gumption to run a store, does it, William? Guess you +could run a store, couldn't you?" + +"I would try anything," said Wetherell. + +"Well," said Ephraim' "there's the store at Coniston. With folks goin' +West, and all that, nobody seems to want it much." He looked at the +letter. "Lem Hallowell' says there hain't nobody to take it." + +"Jonah Winch's!" exclaimed Wetherell. + +"Jonah made it go, but that was before all this hullabaloo about +Temperance Cadets and what not. Jonah sold good rum, but now you can't +get nothin' in Coniston but hard cider and potato whiskey. Still, it's +the place for somebody without much get-up," and he eyed his cousin by +marriage. "Better come and try it, William." + +So much for dreams! Instead of a successor to Irving and Emerson, +William Wetherell became a successor to Jonah Winch. + +That journey to Coniston was full of wonder to Cynthia, and of wonder and +sadness to Wetherell, for it was the way his other Cynthia had come to +Boston. From the state capital the railroad followed the same deep +valley as the old coach road, but ended at Truro, and then they took +stage over Truro Pass for Brampton, where honest Ephraim awaited them and +their slender luggage with a team. Brampton, with its wide-shadowed +green, and terrace-steepled church; home once of the Social Library and +Lucretia Penniman, now famous; home now of Isaac Dudley Worthington, +whose great mills the stage driver had pointed out to them on Coniston +Water as they entered the town. + +Then came a drive through the cool evening to Coniston, Ephraim showing +them landmarks. There was Deacon Lysander's house, where little Rias +Richardson lived now; and on that slope and hidden in its forest nook, +among the birches and briers, the little schoolhouse where Cynthia had +learned to spell; here, where the road made an aisle in the woods, she +had met Jethro. The choir of the birds was singing an evening anthem now +as then, to the lower notes of Coniston Water, and the moist, hothouse +fragrance of the ferns rose from the deep places. + +At last they came suddenly upon the little hamlet of Coniston itself. +There was the flagpole and the triangular green, scene of many a muster; +Jonah Winch's store, with its horse block and checker-paned windows, just +as Jonah had left it; Nathan Bass's tannery shed, now weather-stained and +neglected, for Jethro lived on Thousand Acre Hill now; the Prescott +house, home of the Stark hero, where Ephraim lived, "innocent of paint" +(as one of Coniston's sons has put it), "innocent of paint as a Coniston +maiden's face"; the white meeting-house, where Priest Ware had preached-- +and the parsonage. Cynthia and Wetherell loitered in front of it, while +the blue shadow of the mountain deepened into night, until Mr. Satterlee, +the minister, found them there, and they went in and stood reverently in +the little chamber on the right of the door, which had been Cynthia's. + +Long Wetherell lay awake that night, in his room at the gable-end over +the store, listening to the rustling of the great oak beside the windows, +to the whippoorwills calling across Coniston Water. But at last a peace +descended upon him, and he slept: yes, and awoke with the same sense of +peace at little Cynthia's touch, to go out into the cool morning, when +the mountain side was in myriad sheens of green under the rising sun. +Behind the store was an old-fashioned garden, set about by a neat stone +wall, hidden here and there by the masses of lilac and currant bushes, +and at the south of it was a great rose-covered boulder of granite. And +beyond, through the foliage of the willows and the low apple trees which +Jonah Winch had set out, Coniston Water gleamed and tumbled. Under an +arching elm near the house was the well, stone-rimmed, with its long pole +and crotch, and bucket all green with the damp moss which clung to it. + +Ephraim Prescott had been right when he had declared that it did not take +much gumption to keep store in Coniston. William Wetherell merely +assumed certain obligations at the Brampton bank, and Lem Hallowell, +Jock's son, who now drove the Brampton stage, brought the goods to the +door. Little Rias Richardson was willing to come in, and help move the +barrels, and on such occasions wore carpet slippers to save his shoes. +William still had time for his books; in that Coniston air he began to +feel stronger, and to wonder whether he might not be a Washington Irving +yet. And yet he had one worry and one fear, and both of these concerned +one man,--Jethro Bass. Him, by her own confession, Cynthia Ware had +loved to her dying day, hating herself for it: and he, William Wetherell, +had married this woman whom Jethro had loved so violently, and must +always love--so Wetherell thought: that was the worry. How would Jethro +treat him? that was the fear. William Wetherell was not the most +courageous man in the world. + +Jethro Bass had not been in Coniston since William's arrival. No need to +ask where he was. Jake Wheeler, Jethro's lieutenant in Coniston, gave +William a glowing account of that Throne Room in the Pelican Hotel at the +capital, from whence Jethro ruled the state during the sessions of the +General Court. This legislature sat to him as a sort of advisory +committee of three hundred and fifty: an expensive advisory committee to +the people, relic of an obsolete form of government. Many stories of the +now all-powerful Jethro William heard from the little coterie which made +their headquarters in his store--stories of how those methods of which we +have read were gradually spread over other towns and other counties. Not +that Jethro held mortgages in these towns and counties, but the local +lieutenants did, and bowed to him as an overlord. There were funny +stories, and grim stories of vengeance which William Wetherell heard and +trembled at. Might not Jethro wish to take vengeance upon him? + +One story he did not hear, because no one in Coniston knew it. No one +knew that Cynthia Ware and Jethro Bass had ever loved each other. + +At last, toward the end of June, it was noised about that the great man +was coming home for a few days. One beautiful afternoon William +Wetherell stood on the platform of the store, looking off at Coniston, +talking to Moses Hatch--young Moses, who is father of six children now +and has forgotten Cynthia Ware. Old Moses sleeps on the hillside, let us +hope in the peace of the orthodox and the righteous. A cloud of dust +arose above the road to the southward, and out of it came a country wagon +drawn by a fat horse, and in the wagon the strangest couple Wetherell had +ever seen. The little woman who sat retiringly at one end of the seat +was all in brilliant colors from bonnet to flounce, like a paroquet, red +and green predominating. The man, big in build, large-headed, wore an +old-fashioned blue swallow-tailed coat with brass buttons, a stock, and +coonskin hat, though it was summer, and the thumping of William +Wetherell's heart told him that this was Jethro Bass. He nodded briefly +at Moses Hatch, who greeted him with genial obsequiousness. + +"Legislatur' through?" shouted Moses. + +The great man shook his head and drove on. + +"Has Jethro Bass ever been a member of the Legislature?" asked the +storekeeper, for the sake of something to say. + +"Never would take any office but Chairman of the Selectmen," answered +Moses, who apparently bore no ill will for his father's sake. "Jethro +kind of fathers the Legislatur', I guess, though I don't take much stock +in politics. Goes down sessions to see that they don't get too gumptious +and kick off the swaddlin' clothes." + +"And--was that his wife?" Wetherell asked, hesitatingly. + +"Aunt Listy, they call her. Nobody ever knew how he come to marry her. +Jethro went up to Wisdom once, in the centre of the state, and come back +with her. Funny place to bring a wife from--Wisdom! Funnier place to +bring Listy from. He loads her down with them ribbons and gewgaws--all +the shades of the rainbow! Says he wants her to be the best-dressed +woman in the state. Callate she is," added Moses, with conviction. +"Listy's a fine woman, but all she knows is enough to say, 'Yes, Jethro,' +and 'No, Jethro.'--Guess that's all Jethro wants in a wife; but he +certainly is good to her." + +"And why has he come back before the Legislature's over?" said Wetherell. + +"Cuttin' of his farms. Always comes back hayin' time. That's the way +Jethro spends the money he makes in politics, and he hain't no more of a +farmer than--" Moses looked at Wetherell. + +"Than I'm a storekeeper," said the latter, smiling. + +"Than I'm a lawyer," said Moses, politely. + +They were interrupted at this moment by the appearance of Jake Wheeler +and Sam Price, who came gaping out of the darkness of the store. + +"Was that Jethro, Mose?" demanded Jake. "Guess we'll go along up and see +if there's any orders." + +"I suppose the humblest of God's critturs has their uses," Moses remarked +contemplatively, as he watched the retreating figures of Sam and Jake. +"Leastwise that's Jethro's philosophy. When you come to know him, you'll +notice how much those fellers walk like him. Never seed a man who had so +many imitators. Some of,'em's took to talkie' like him, even to +stutterin'. Bijah Bixby, over to Clovelly, comes pretty nigh it, too." + +Moses loaded his sugar and beans into his wagon, and drove off. + +An air of suppressed excitement seemed to pervade those who came that +afternoon to the store to trade and talk--mostly to talk. After such +purchases as they could remember were made, they lingered on the barrels +and on the stoop, in the hope of seeing Jethro, whose habit; it was, +apparently, to come down and dispense such news as he thought fit for +circulation. That Wetherell shared this excitement, too, he could not +deny, but for a different cause. At last, when the shadows of the big +trees had crept across the green, he came, the customers flocking to the +porch to greet him, Wetherell standing curiously behind them in the door. +Heedless of the dust, he strode down the road with the awkward gait that +was all his own, kicking up his heels behind. And behind him, heels +kicking up likewise, followed Jake and Sam, Jethro apparently oblivious +of their presence. A modest silence was maintained from the stoop, +broken at length by Lem Hallowell, who (men said) was an exact +reproduction of Jock, the meeting-house builder. Lem alone was not +abashed in the presence of greatness. + +"How be you, Jethro?" he said heartily. "Air the Legislatur' behavin' +themselves?" + +"B-bout as common," said Jethro. + +Surely nothing very profound in this remark, but received as though it +were Solomon's. + +Be prepared for a change in Jethro, after the galloping years. He is now +fifty-seven, but he might be any age. He is still smooth-shaven, his +skin is clear, and his eye is bright, for he lives largely on bread and +milk, and eschews stimulants. But the lines in his face have deepened +and his big features seem to have grown bigger. + +"Who be you thinkin' of for next governor, Jethro?" queries Rias +Richardson, timidly. + +"They say Alvy Hopkins of Gosport is willin' to pay for it," said Chester +Perkins, sarcastically. Chester; we fear, is a born agitator, fated to +remain always in opposition. He is still a Democrat, and Jethro, as is +well known, has extended the mortgage so as to include Chester's farm. + +"Wouldn't give a Red Brook Seedling for Alvy," ejaculated the nasal Mr. +Price. + +"D-don't like Red Brook Seedlings, Sam? D-don't like 'em?" said Jethro. +He had parted his blue coat tails and seated himself on the stoop, his +long legs hanging over it. + +"Never seed a man who had a good word to say for 'em," said Mr. Price, +with less conviction. + +"Done well on mine," said Jethro, "d-done well. I was satisfied with my +Red Brook Seedlings." + +Mr. Price's sallow face looked as if he would have contradicted another +man. + +"How was that, Jethro?" piped up Jake Wheeler, voicing the general +desire. + +Jethro looked off into the blue space beyond the mountain line. + +"G-got mine when they first come round--seed cost me considerable. +Raised more than a hundred bushels L-Listy put some of 'em on the table-- +t-then gave some to my old hoss Tom. Tom said: 'Hain't I always been a +good beast, Jethro? Hain't I carried you faithful, summer and winter, +for a good many years? And now you give me Red Brook Seedlings?'" + +Here everybody laughed, and stopped abruptly, for Jethro still looked +contemplative. + +"Give some of 'em to the hogs. W-wouldn't touch 'em. H-had over a +hundred bushels on hand--n-new variety. W-what's that feller's name down +to Ayer, Massachusetts, deals in all kinds of seeds? Ellett--that's it. +Wrote to Ellet, said I had a hundred bushels of Red Brooks to sell, as +fine a lookin' potato as I had in my cellar. Made up my mind to take +what he offered, if it was only five cents. He wrote back a dollar a +bushel. I-I was always satisfied with my Red Brook Seedlings, Sam. But +I never raised any more--n-never raised any more." + +Uproarious laughter greeted the end of this story, and continued in fits +as some humorous point recurred to one or the other of the listeners. +William Wetherell perceived that the conversation, for the moment at +least, was safely away from politics, and in that dubious state where it +was difficult to reopen. This was perhaps what Jethro wanted. Even Jake +Wheeler was tongue-tied, and Jethro appeared to be lost in reflection. + +At this instant a diversion occurred--a trifling diversion, so it seemed +at the time. Around the corner of the store, her cheeks flushed and her +dark hair flying, ran little Cynthia, her hands, browned already by the +Coniston sun, filled with wild strawberries. + +"See what I've found, Daddy!" she cried, "see what I've found!" + +Jethro Bass started, and flung back his head like a man who has heard a +voice from another world, and then he looked at the child with a kind of +stupefaction. The cry, died on Cynthia's lips, and she stopped, gazing +up at him with wonder in her eyes. + +"F-found strawberries?" said Jethro, at last. + +"Yes," she answered. She was very grave and serious now, as was her +manner in dealing with people. + +"S-show 'em to me," said Jethro. + +Cynthia went to him, without embarrassment, and put her hand on his knee. +Not once had he taken his eyes from her face. He put out his own hand +with an awkward, shy movement, picked a strawberry from her fingers, and +thrust it in his mouth. + +"Mm," said Jethro, gravely. "Er--what's your name, little gal--what's +your name?" + +"Cynthia." + +There was a long pause. + +"Er--er--Cynthia?" he said at length, "Cynthia?" + +"Cynthia." + +"Er-er, Cynthia--not Cynthy?" + +"Cynthia," she said again. + +He bent over her and lowered his voice. + +"M-may I call you Cynthy--Cynthy?" he asked. + +"Y-yes," answered Cynthia, looking up to her father and then glancing +shyly at Jethro. + +His eyes were on the mountain, and he seemed to have forgotten her until +she reached out to him, timidly, another strawberry. He seized her +little hand instead and held it between his own--much to the astonishment +of his friends. + +"Whose little gal be you?" he asked. + +"Dad's." + +"She's Will Wetherell's daughter," said Lem Hallowell. "He's took on the +store. Will," he added, turning to Wetherell, "let me make you +acquainted with Jethro Bass." + +Jethro rose slowly, and towered above Wetherell on the stoop. There was +an inscrutable look in his black eyes, as of one who sees without being +seen. Did he know who William Wetherell was? If so, he gave no sign, +and took Wetherell's hand limply. + +"Will's kinder hipped on book-l'arnin'," Lemuel continued kindly. "Come +here to keep store for his health. Guess you may have heerd, Jethro, +that Will married Cynthy Ware. You call Cynthy to mind, don't ye?" + +Jethro Bass dropped Wetherell's hand, but answered nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A week passed, and Jethro did not appear in the village, report having it +that he was cutting his farms on Thousand Acre Hill. When Jethro was +farming,--so it was said,--he would not stop to talk politics even with +the President of the United States were that dignitary to lean over his +pasture fence and beckon to him. On a sultry Friday morning, when +William Wetherell was seated at Jonah Winch's desk in the cool recesses +of the store slowly and painfully going over certain troublesome accounts +which seemed hopeless, he was thrown into a panic by the sight of one +staring at him from the far side of a counter. History sometimes +reverses itself. + +"What can I do for you--Mr. Bass?" asked the storekeeper, rather weakly. + +"Just stepped in--stepped in," he answered. "W-where's Cynthy?" + +"She was in the garden--shall I get her?" + +"No," he said, parting his coat tails and seating himself on the counter. +"Go on figurin', don't mind me." + +The thing was manifestly impossible. Perhaps Wetherell indicated as much +by his answer. + +"Like storekeepin'?" Jethro asked presently, perceiving that he did not +continue his work. + +"A man must live, Mr. Bass," said Wetherell; "I had to leave the city for +my health. I began life keeping store," he added, "but I little thought +I should end it so." + +"Given to book-l'arnin' then, wahn't you?" Jethro remarked. He did not +smile, but stared at the square of light that was the doorway, "Judson's +jewellery store, wahn't it? Judson's?" + +"Yes, Judson's," Wetherell answered, as soon as he recovered from his +amazement. There was no telling from Jethro's manner whether he were +enemy or friend; whether he bore the storekeeper a grudge for having +attained to a happiness that had not been his. + +"Hain't made a great deal out of life, hev you? N-not a great deal?" +Jethro observed at last. + +Wetherell flushed, although Jethro had merely stated a truth which had +often occurred to the storekeeper himself. + +"It isn't given to all of us to find Rome in brick and leave it in +marble," he replied a little sadly. + +Jethro Bass looked at him quickly. + +"Er-what's that?" he demanded. "F-found Rome in brick, left it in +marble. Fine thought." He ruminated a little. "Never writ anything-- +did you--never writ anything?" + +"Nothing worth publishing," answered poor William Wetherell. + +"J-just dreamed'--dreamed and kept store. S--something to have dreamed-- +eh--something to have dreamed?" + +Wetherell forgot his uneasiness in the unexpected turn the conversation +had taken. It seemed very strange to him that he was at last face to +face again wish the man whom Cynthia Ware had never been able to drive +from her heart. Would, he mention her? Had he continued to love her, in +spite of the woman he had married and adorned? Wetherell asked himself +these questions before he spoke. + +"It is more to have accomplished," he said. + +"S-something to have dreamed," repeated Jethro, rising slowly from the +counter. He went toward the doorway that led into the garden, and there +he halted and stood listening. + +"C-Cynthy!" he said, "C-Cynthy!" + +Wetherell dropped his pen at the sound of the name on Jethro's lips. But +it was little Cynthia he was calling little Cynthia in the garden. The +child came at his voice, and stood looking up at him silently. + +"H-how old be you, Cynthy?" + +"Nine," answered Cynthia, promptly. + +"L-like the country, Cynthy--like the country better than the city?" + +"Oh, yes," said Cynthia. + +"And country folks? L--like country folks better than city folks?" + +"I didn't know many city folks," said Cynthia. "I liked the old doctor +who sent Daddy up here ever so much, and I liked Mrs. Darwin." + +"Mis' Darwin?" + +"She kept the house we lived in. She used to give me cookies," said +Cynthia, "and bread to feed the pigeons." + +"Pigeons? F-folks keep pigeons in the city?" + +"Oh, no," said Cynthia, laughing at such an idea; "the pigeons came on +the roof under our window, and they used to fly right up on the window- +sill and feed out of my hand. They kept me company while Daddy, was +away, working. On Sundays we used to go into +the Common and feed them, before Daddy got sick. The Common was +something like the country, only not half as nice." + +"C-couldn't pick flowers in the Common and go barefoot--e--couldn't go +barefoot, Cynthy?" + +"Oh, no," said Cynthia, laughing again at his sober face. + +"C-couldn't dig up the Common and plant flowers--could you?" + +"Of course you couldn't." + +"P-plant 'em out there?" asked Jethro. + +"Oh, yes," cried Cynthia; "I'll show you." She hesitated a moment, and +then thrust her hand into his. "Do you want to see?" + +"Guess I do," said he, energetically, and she led him into the garden, +pointing out with pride the rows of sweet peas and pansies, which she had +made herself. Impelled by a strange curiosity, William Wetherell went to +the door and watched them. There was a look on the face of Jethro Bass +that was new to it as he listened to the child talk of the wondrous +things around them that summer's day,--the flowers and the bees and the +brook (they must go down and stand on the brink of it), and the songs of +the vireo and the hermit thrush. + +"Hain't lonely here, Cynthy--hain't lonely here?" he said. + +"Not in the country," said Cynthia. Suddenly she lifted her eyes to his +with a questioning look. "Are you lonely, sometimes?" + +He did not answer at once. + +"Not with you, Cynthy--not with you." + +By all of which it will be seen that the acquaintance was progressing. +They sat down for a while on the old millstone that formed the step, and +there discussed Cynthia's tastes. She was too old for dolls, Jethro +supposed. Yes, Cynthia was too old for dolls. She did not say so, but +the only doll she had ever owned had become insipid when the delight of +such a reality as taking care of a helpless father had been thrust upon +her. Books, suggested Jethro. Books she had known from her earliest +infancy: they had been piled around that bedroom over the roof. Books +and book lore and the command of the English tongue were William +Wetherell's only legacies to his daughter, and many an evening that +spring she had read him to sleep from classic volumes of prose and poetry +I hesitate to name, for fear you will think her precocious. They went +across the green to Cousin Ephraim Prescott's harness shop, where Jethro +had tied his horse, and it was settled that Cynthia liked books. + +On the morning following this extraordinary conversation, Jethro Bass and +his wife departed for the state capital. Listy was bedecked in amazing +greens and yellows, and Jethro drove, looking neither to the right nor +left, his coat tails hanging down behind the seat, the reins lying slack +across the plump quarters of his horse--the same fat Tom who, by the way, +had so indignantly spurned the Iced Brook Seedlings. And Jake Wheeler +went along to bring back the team from Brampton. To such base uses are +political lieutenants sometimes put, although fate would have told you it +was an honor, and he came back to the store that evening fairly bristling +with political secrets which he could not be induced to impart. + +One evening a fortnight later, while the lieutenant was holding forth in +commendably general terms on the politics of the state to a speechless if +not wholly admiring audience, a bomb burst in their midst. William +Wetherell did not know that it was a periodical bomb, like those flung at +regular intervals from the Union mortars into Vicksburg. These bombs, at +any rate, never failed to cause consternation and fright in Coniston, +although they never did any harm. One thing noticeable, they were always +fired in Jethro's absence. And the bombardier was always Chester +Perkins, son of the most unbending and rigorous of tithing-men, but +Chester resembled his father in no particular save that he, too, was a +deacon and a pillar of the church. Deacon Ira had been tall and gaunt +and sunken and uncommunicative. Chester was stout, and said to perspire +even in winter, apoplectic, irascible, talkative, and still, as has been +said, a Democrat. He drove up to the store this evening to the not +inappropriate rumble of distant thunder, and he stood up in his wagon in +front of the gathering and shook his fist in Jake Wheeler's face. + +"This town's tired of puttin' up with a King," he cried. "Yes, King-=I +said it, and I don't care who hears me. It's time to stop this one-man +rule. You kin go and tell him I said it, Jake Wheeler, if you've a mind +to. I guess there's plenty who'll do that." + +An uneasy silence followed--the silence which cries treason louder than +any voice. Some shifted uneasily, and spat, and Jake Wheeler thrust his +hands in his pockets and walked away, as much as to say that it was +treason even to listen to such talk. Lem Hallowell seemed unperturbed. + +"On the rampage agin, Chet?" he remarked. + +"You'd ought to know better, Lem," cried the enraged Chester; "hain't the +hull road by the Four Corners ready to drop into the brook? What be you +a-goin' to do about it?" + +"I'll show you when I git to it," answered Lem, quietly. And, show them +he did. + +"Git to it!" shouted Chester, scornfully, "I'll git to it. I'll tell you +right now I'm a candidate for the Chairman of the Selectmen, if town +meetin' is eight months away. An', Sam Price, I'll expect the Democrats +to git into line." + +With this ultimatum Chester drove away as rapidly as he had come. + +"I want to know!" said Sam Price, an exclamation peculiarly suited to his +voice. But nevertheless Sam might be counted on in each of these little +rebellions. He, too, had remained steadfast to Jacksonian principles, +and he had never forgiven Jethro about a little matter of a state office +which he (Sam) had failed to obtain. + +Before he went to bed Jake Wheeler had written a letter which he sent off +to the state capital by the stage the next morning. In it he indicted no +less than twenty of his fellow-townsmen for treason; and he also thought +it wise to send over to Clovelly for Bijah Bixby, a lieutenant in that +section, to come and look over the ground and ascertain by his well-known +methods how far the treason had eaten into the body politic. Such was +Jake's ordinary procedure when the bombs were fired, for Mr. Wheeler was +nothing if not cautious. + +Three mornings later, a little after seven o'clock, when the storekeeper +and his small daughter were preparing to go to Brampton upon a very +troublesome errand, Chester Perkins appeared again. It is always easy to +stir up dissatisfaction among the ne'er-do-wells (Jethro had once done it +himself), and during the three days which had elapsed since Chester had +flung down the gauntlet there had been more or less of downright treason +heard in the store. William Wetherell, who had perplexities of his own, +had done his best to keep out of the discussions that had raged on his +cracker boxes and barrels, for his head was a jumble of figures which +would not come right. And now as he stood there in the freshness of the +early summer morning, waiting for Lem Hallowell's stage, poor Wetherell's +heart was very heavy. + +"Will Wetherell," said Chester, "you be a gentleman and a student, hain't +you? Read history, hain't you?" + +"I have read some," said William Wetherell. + +"I callate that a man of parts," said Chester, "such as you be, will help +us agin corruption and a dictator. I'm a-countin' on you, Will +Wetherell. You've got the store, and you kin tell the boys the +difference between right and wrong. They'll listen to you, because +you're eddicated." + +"I don't know anything about politics," answered Wetherell, with an +appealing glance at the silent group,--group that was always there. Rias +Richardson, who had donned the carpet slippers preparatory to tending +store for the day, shuffled inside. Deacon Lysander, his father, would +not have done so. + +"You know sornethin' about history and the Constitootion, don't ye?" +demanded Chester, truculently. N'Jethro Bass don't hold your mortgage, +does he? Bank in Brampton holds it--hain't that so? You hain't afeard +of Jethro like the rest on 'em, be you?" + +"I don't know what right you have to talk to me that way, Mr. Perkins," +said Wetherell. + +"What right? Jethro holds my mortgage--the hull town knows it-and he kin +close me out to-morrow if he's a mind to--" + +"See here, Chester Perkins," Lem Hallowell interposed, as he drove up +with the stage, "what kind of free principles be you preachin'? You'd +ought to know better'n coerce." + +"What be you a-goin' to do about that Four Corners road?" Chester cried +to the stage driver. + +"I give 'em till to-morrow night to fix it," said Lem. "Git in, Will. +Cynthy's over to the harness shop with Eph. We'll stop as we go 'long." + +"Give 'em till to-morrow night!" Chester shouted after them. "What you +goin' to do then?" + +But Lem did not answer this inquiry. He stopped at the harness shop, +where Ephraim came limping out and lifted Cynthia to the seat beside her +father, and they joggled off to Brampton. The dew still lay in myriad +drops on the red herd's-grass, turning it to lavender in the morning sun, +and the heavy scent of the wet ferns hung in the forest. Lem whistled, +and joked with little Cynthia, and gave her the reins to drive, and of +last they came in sight of Brampton Street, with its terrace-steepled +church and line of wagons hitched to the common rail, for it was market +day. Father and daughter walked up and down, hand in hand, under the +great trees, and then they went to the bank. + +It was a brick building on a corner opposite the common, imposing for +Brampton, and very imposing to Wetherell. It seemed like a tomb as he +entered its door, Cynthia clutching his fingers, and never but once in +his life had he been so near to leaving all hope behind. He waited +patiently by the barred windows until the clerk, who was counting bills, +chose to look up at him. + +"Want to draw money?" he demanded. + +The words seemed charged with irony. William Wetherell told him, +falteringly, his name and business, and he thought the man looked at him +compassionately. + +"You'll have to see Mr. Worthington," he said; "he hasn't gone to the +mills yet." + +"Dudley Worthington?" exclaimed Wetherell. + +The teller smiled. + +"Yes. He's the president of this bank."' + +He opened a door in the partition, and leaving Cynthia dangling her feet +from a chair, Wetherell was ushered, not without trepidation, into the +great man's office, and found himself at last in the presence of Mr. +Isaac D. Worthington, who used to wander up and down Coniston Water +searching for a mill site. + +He sat behind a table covered with green leather, on which papers were +laid with elaborate neatness, and he wore a double-breasted skirted coat +of black, with braided lapels, a dark purple blanket cravat with a large +red cameo pin. And Mr. Worthington's features harmonized perfectly with +this costume--those of a successful, ambitious man who followed custom +and convention blindly; clean-shaven, save for reddish chops, blue eyes +of extreme keenness, and thin-upped mouth which had been tightening year +by year as the output of the Worthington Minx increased. + +"Well, sir," he said sharply, "what can I do for you?" + +"I am William Wetherell, the storekeeper at Coniston." + +"Not the Wetherell who married Cynthia Ware!" + +No, Mr. Worthington did not say that. He did not know that Cynthia Ware +was married, or alive or dead, and--let it be confessed at once--he did +not care. + +This is what he did say:-- + +"Wetherell--Wetherell. Oh, yes, you've come about that note--the +mortgage on the store at Coniston." He stared at William Wetherell, +drummed with his fingers on the table, and smiled slightly. "I am happy +to say that the Brampton Bank does not own this note any longer. If we +did,--merely as a matter of business, you understand" (he coughed),--"we +should have had to foreclose." + +"Don't own the note!" exclaimed Wetherell. "Who does own it?" + +"We sold it a little while ago--since you asked for the extension--to +Jethro Bass." + +"Jethro Bass!" Wetherell's feet seemed to give way under him, and he sat +down. + +"Mr. Bass is a little quixotic--that is a charitable way to put it-- +quixotic. He does--strange things like this once in awhile." + +The storekeeper found no words to answer, but sat mutely staring at him. +Mr. Worthington coughed again. + +"You appear to be an educated man. Haven't I heard some story of your +giving up other pursuits in Boston to come up here for your health? +Certainly I place you now. I confess to a little interest in literature +myself--in libraries." + +In spite of his stupefaction at the news he had just received, Wetherell +thought of Mr. Worthington's beaver hat, and of that gentleman's first +interest in libraries, for Cynthia had told the story to her husband. + +"It is perhaps an open secret," continued Mr. Worthington, "that in the +near future I intend to establish a free library in Brampton. I feel it +my duty to do all I can for the town where I have made my success, and +there is nothing which induces more to the popular welfare than a good +library." Whereupon he shot at Wetherell another of his keen looks. "I +do not talk this way ordinarily to my customers, Mr. Wetherell," he +began; "but you interest me, and I am going to tell you something in +confidence. I am sure it will not be betrayed." + +"Oh, no," said the bewildered storekeeper, who was in no condition to +listen to confidences. + +He went quietly to the door, opened it, looked out, and closed it softly. +Then he looked out of the window. + +"Have a care of this man Bass," he said, in a lower voice. "He began +many years ago by debauching the liberties of that little town of +Coniston, and since then he has gradually debauched the whole state, +judges and all. If I have a case to try" (he spoke now with more +intensity and bitterness), "concerning my mills, or my bank, before I get +through I find that rascal mixed up in it somewhere, and unless I arrange +matters with him, I--" + +He paused abruptly, his eyes going out of the window, pointing with a +long finger at a grizzled man crossing the street with a yellow and red +horse blanket thrown over his shoulders. + +"That man, Judge Baker, holding court in this town now, Bass owns body +and soul." + +"And the horse blanket?" Wetherell queried, irresistibly. + +Dudley Worthington did not smile. + +"Take my advice, Mr. Wetherell, and pay off that note somehow." An odor +of the stable pervaded the room, and a great unkempt grizzled head and +shoulders, horse blanket and all, were stuck into it. + +"Mornin', Dudley," said the head, "busy?" + +"Come right in, Judge," answered Mr. Worthington. "Never too busy to see +you." The head disappeared. + +"Take my advice, Mr. Wetherell." + +And then the storekeeper went into the bank. + +For some moments he stood dazed by what he had heard, the query ringing +in his head: Why had Jethro Bass bought that note? Did he think that the +storekeeper at Coniston would be of use to him, politically? The words +Chester Perkins had spoken that morning came back to Wetherell as he +stood in the door. And how was he to meet Jethro Bass again with no +money to pay even the interest on the note? Then suddenly he missed +Cynthia, hurried out, and spied her under the trees on the common so deep +in conversation with a boy that she did not perceive him until he spoke +to her. The boy looked up, smiling frankly at something Cynthia had said +to him. He had honest, humorous eyes, and a browned, freckled face, and +was, perhaps, two years older than Cynthia. + +"What's the matter?" said Wetherell. + +Cynthia's face was flushed, and she was plainly vexed about something. + +"I gave her a whistle," said the boy, with a little laugh of vexation, +"and now she says she won't take it because I owned up I made it for +another girl." + +Cynthia held it out to him, not deigning to appeal her ease. + +"You must take it back," she said. + +"But I want you to have it," said the boy. + +"It wouldn't be right for me to take it when you made it for somebody +else." + +After all, people with consciences are born, not made. But this was a +finer distinction that the boy had ever met with in his experience. + +"I didn't know you when I made the whistle," he objected, puzzled and +downcast. + +"That doesn't make any difference." + +"I like you better than the other girl." + +"You have no right to," retorted the casuist; "you've known her longer." + +"That doesn't make any difference," said the boy; "there are lots of +people I don't like I have always known. This girl doesn't live in +Brampton, anyway." + +"Where does she live?" demanded Cynthia,--which was a step backward. + +"At the state capital. Her name's Janet Duncan. There, do you believe +me now?" + +William Wetherell had heard of Janet Duncan's father, Alexander Duncan, +who had the reputation of being the richest man in the state. And he +began to wonder who the boy could be. + +"I believe you," said Cynthia; "but as long as you made it for her, it's +hers. Will you take it?" + +"No," said he, determinedly. + +"Very well," answered Cynthia. She laid down the whistle beside him on +the rail, and went off a little distance and seated herself on a bench. +The boy laughed. + +"I like that girl," he remarked; "the rest of 'em take everything I give +'em, and ask for more. She's prettier'n any of 'em, too." + +"What is your name?" Wetherell asked him, curiously, forgetting his own +troubles. + +"Bob Worthington." + +"Are you the son of Dudley Worthington" + +"Everybody asks me that," he said; "I'm tired of it. When I grow up, +they'll have to stop it." + +"But you should be proud of your father." + +"I am proud of him, everybody's proud of him, Brampton's proud of him-- +he's proud of himself. That's enough, ain't it?" He eyed Wetherell +somewhat defiantly, then his glance wandered to Cynthia, and he walked +over to her. He threw himself down on the grass in front of her, and lay +looking up at her solemnly. For a while she continued to stare +inflexibly at the line of market wagons, and then she burst into a laugh. + +"Thought you wouldn't hold out forever," he remarked. + +"It's because you're so foolish," said Cynthia, "that's why I laughed." +Then she grew sober again and held out her hand to him. "Good-by." + +"Where are you going?" + +"I must go back to my father. I--I think he doesn't feel very well." + +"Next time I'll make a whistle for you," he called after her. + +"And give it to somebody else," said Cynthia. + +She had hold of her father's hand by that, but he caught up with her, +very red in the face. + +"You know that isn't true," he cried angrily, and taking his way across +Brampton Street, turned, and stood staring after them until they were out +of sight. + +"Do you like him, Daddy?" asked Cynthia. + +William Wetherell did not answer. He had other things to think about. + +"Daddy?" + +"Yes." + +"Does your trouble feel any better?" + +"Some, Cynthia. But you mustn't think about it." + +"Daddy, why don't you ask Uncle Jethro to help you?" + +At the name Wetherell started as if he had had a shock. + +"What put him into your head, Cynthia?" he asked sharply. "Why do you +call him 'Uncle Jethro'?" + +"Because he asked me to. Because he likes me, and I like him." + +The whole thing was a riddle he could not solve--one that was best left +alone. They had agreed to walk back the ten miles to Coniston, to save +the money that dinner at the hotel would cost. And so they started, +Cynthia flitting hither and thither along the roadside, picking the +stately purple iris flowers in the marshy places, while Wetherell +pondered. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Books she had known from her earliest infancy +Curiosity as a factor has never, perhaps, been given its proper weight +Pious belief in democracy, but with a firmer determination to get on top +Giant pines that gave many a mast to King George's navy +He hain't be'n eddicated a great deal +Riddle he could not solve--one that was best left alone +They don't take notice of him, because he don't say much + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Coniston, V1 +by Winston Churchill + + + + + +CONISTON + +BOOK 2. + + +CHAPTER IX + +When William Wetherell and Cynthia had reached the last turn in the road +in Northcutt's woods, quarter of a mile from Coniston, they met the nasal +Mr. Samuel Price driving silently in the other direction. The word +"silently" is used deliberately, because to Mr. Price appertained a +certain ghostlike quality of flitting, and to Mr. Price's horse and wagon +likewise. He drew up for a brief moment when he saw Wetherell. + +"Wouldn't hurry back if I was you, Will." + +"Why not?" + +Mr. Price leaned out of the wagon. + +"Bije has come over from Clovelly to spy around a little mite." + +It was evident from Mr. Price's manner that he regarded the storekeeper +as a member of the reform party. + +"What did he say, Daddy?" asked Cynthia, as Wetherell stood staring after +the flitting buggy in bewilderment. + +"I haven't the faintest idea, Cynthia," answered her father, and they +walked on. + +"Don't you know who 'Bije' is? + +"No," said her father, "and I don't care." + +It was almost criminal ignorance for a man who lived in that part of the +country not to know Bijah Bixby of Clovelly, who was paying a little +social visit to Coniston that day on his way home from the state +capital,--tending, as it were, Jethro's flock. Still, Wetherell must be +excused because he was an impractical literary man with troubles of his +own. But how shall we chronicle Bijah's rank and precedence in the +Jethro army, in which there are neither shoulder-straps nor annual +registers? To designate him as the Chamberlain of that hill Rajah, the +Honorable Heth Sutton, would not be far out of the way. The Honorable +Heth, whom we all know and whom we shall see presently, is the man of +substance and of broad acres in Clovelly: Bijah merely owns certain +mortgages in that town, but he had created the Honorable Heth +(politically) as surely as certain prime ministers we could name have +created their sovereigns. The Honorable Heth was Bijah's creation, and a +grand creation he was, as no one will doubt when they see him. + +Bijah--as he will not hesitate to tell you--took Heth down in his pocket +to the Legislature, and has more than once delivered him, in certain +blocks of five and ten, and four and twenty, for certain considerations. +The ancient Song of Sixpence applies to Bijah, but his pocket was +generally full of proxies instead of rye, and the Honorable Heth was +frequently one of the four and twenty blackbirds. In short, Bijah was +the working bee, and the Honorable Heth the ornamental drone. + +I do not know why I have dwelt so long on such a minor character as +Bijah, except that the man fascinates me. Of all the lieutenants in the +state, his manners bore the closest resemblance to those of Jethro Bass. +When he walked behind Jethro in the corridors of the Pelican, kicking up +his heels behind, he might have been taken for Jethro's shadow. He was +of a good height and size, smooth-shaven, with little eyes that kindled, +and his mouth moved not at all when he spoke: unlike Jethro, he "used" +tobacco. + +When Bijah had driven into Coniston village and hitched his wagon to the +rail, he went direct to the store. Chester Perkins and others were +watching him with various emotions from the stoop, and Bijah took a seat +in the midst of them, characteristically engaging in conversation without +the usual conventional forms of greeting, as if he had been there all +day. + +"H-how much did you git for your wool, Chester--h-how much?" + +"Guess you hain't here to talk about wool, Bije," said Chester, red with +anger. + +"Kind of neglectin' the farm lately, I hear," observed Bijah. + +"Jethro Bass sent you up to find out how much I was neglectin' it," +retorted Chester, throwing all caution to the winds. + +"Thinkin' of upsettin' Jethro, be you? Thinkin' of upsettin' Jethro?" +remarked Bije, in a genial tone. + +"Folks in Clovelly hain't got nothin' to do with it, if I am," said +Chester. + +"Leetle early for campaignin', Chester, leetle early." + +"We do our campaignin' when we're a mind to." + +Bijah looked around. + +"Well, that's funny. I could have took oath I seed Rias Richardson +here." + +There was a deep silence. + +"And Sam Price," continued Bijah, in pretended astonishment, "wahn't he +settin' on the edge of the stoop when I drove up?" + +Another silence, broken only by the enraged breathing of Chester, who was +unable to retort. Moses Hatch laughed. The discreet departure of these +gentlemen certainly had its comical side. + +"Rias as indoostrious as ever, Mose?" inquired Bijah. + +"He has his busy times," said Mose, grinning broadly. + +"See you've got the boys with their backs up, Chester," said Bijah. + +"Some of us are sick of tyranny," cried Chester; "you kin tell that to +Jethro Bass when you go back, if he's got time to listen to you buyin' +and sellin' out of railroads." + +"Hear Jethro's got the Grand Gulf Road in his pocket to do as he's a mind +to with," said Moses, with a view to drawing Bijah out. But the remark +had exactly the opposite effect, Bijah screwing up his face into an +expression of extraordinary secrecy and cunning. + +"How much did you git out of it, Bije?" demanded Chester. + +"Hain't looked through my clothes yet," said Bijah, his face screwed up +tighter than ever. "N-never look through my clothes till I git home, +Chester, it hain't safe." + +It has become painfully evident that Mr. Bixby is that rare type of man +who can sit down under the enemy's ramparts and smoke him out. It was a +rule of Jethro's code either to make an effective departure or else to +remain and compel the other man to make an ineffective departure. Lem +Hallowell might have coped with him; but the stage was late, and after +some scratching of heads and delving for effectual banter (through which +Mr. Bixby sat genial and unconcerned), Chester's followers took their +leave, each choosing his own pretext. + +In the meantime William Wetherell had entered the store by the back door +--unperceived, as he hoped. He had a vehement desire to be left in peace, +and to avoid politics and political discussions forever--vain desire for +the storekeeper of Coniston. Mr. Wetherell entered the store, and to +take his mind from his troubles, he picked up a copy of Byron: gradually +the conversation on the stoop died away, and just as he was beginning to +congratulate himself and enjoy the book, he had an unpleasant sensation +of some one approaching him measuredly. Wetherell did not move; indeed, +he felt that he could not--he was as though charmed to the spot. He +could have cried aloud, but the store was empty, and there was no one to +hear him. Mr. Bixby did not speak until he was within a foot of his +victim's ear. His voice was very nasal, too. + +"Wetherell, hain't it?" + +The victim nodded helplessly. + +"Want to see you a minute." + +"What is it?" + +"Where can we talk private?" asked Mr. Bixby, looking around. + +"There's no one here," Wetherell answered. "What do you wish to say?" + +"If the boys was to see me speakin' to you, they might git suspicious-- +you understand," he confided, his manner conveying a hint that they +shared some common policy. + +"I don't meddle with politics," said Wetherell, desperately. + +"Exactly!" answered Bijah, coming even closer. "I knowed you was a +level-headed man, moment I set eyes on you. Made up my mind I'd have a +little talk in private with you--you understand. The boys hain't got no +reason to suspicion you care anything about politics, have they?" + +"None whatever." + +"You don't pay no attention to what they say?" + +"None." + +You hear it?" + +"Sometimes I can't help it." + +"Ex'actly! You hear it." + +"I told you I couldn't help it." + +"Want you should vote right when the time comes," said Bijah. "D-don't +want to see such an intelligent man go wrong an' be sorry for it--you +understand. Chester Perkins is hare-brained. Jethro Bass runs things in +this state." + +"Mr. Bixby--" + +"You understand," said Bijah, screwing up his face. "Guess your watch is +a-comin' out." He tucked it back caressingly, and started for the door-- +the back door. Involuntarily Wetherell put his hand to his pocket, felt +something crackle under it, and drew the something out. To his amazement +it was a ten-dollar bill. + +"Here!" he cried so sharply in his fright that Mr. Bixby, turned around. +Wetherell ray after him. "Take this back!" + +"Guess you got me," said Bijah. "W-what is it?" + +"This money is yours," cried Wetherell, so loudly that Bijah started and +glanced at the front of the store. + +"Guess you made some mistake," he said, staring at the storekeeper with +such amazing innocence that he began to doubt his senses, and clutched +the bill to see if it was real. + +"But I had no money in my pocket," said Wetherell, perplexedly. And +then, gaining, indignation, "Take this to the man who sent you, and give +it back to him." + +But Bijah merely whispered caressingly in his ear, "Nobody sent me,--you +understand,--nobody sent me," and was gone. Wetherell stood for a +moment, dazed by the man's audacity, and then, hurrying to the front +stoop, the money still in his hand, he perceived Mr. Bixby in the sunlit +road walking, Jethro-fashion, toward Ephraim Prescott's harness shop. + +"Why, Daddy," said Cynthia, coming in from the garden, "where did you get +all that money? Your troubles must feel better." + +"It is not mine," said Wetherell, starting. And then, quivering with +anger and mortification, he sank down on the stoop to debate what he +should do. + +"Is it somebody else's?" asked the child, presently. + +"Yes." + +"Then why don't you give it back to them, Daddy?" + +How was Wetherell to know, in his fright, that Mr. Bixby had for once +indulged in an overabundance of zeal in Jethro's behalf? He went to the +door, laughter came to him across the green from the harness shop, and +his eye following the sound, fastened on Bijah seated comfortably in the +midst of the group there. Bitterly the storekeeper comprehended that, +had he possessed courage, he would have marched straight after Mr. Bixby +and confronted him before them all with the charge of bribery. The blood +throbbed in his temples, and yet he sat there, trembling, despising +himself, repeating that he might have had the courage if Jethro Bass had +not bought the mortgage. The fear of the man had entered the +storekeeper's soul. + +"Does it belong to that man over there?" asked Cynthia. + +"Yes." + +"I'll take it to him, Daddy," and she held out her hand. + +"Not now," Wetherell answered nervously, glancing at the group. He went +into the store, addressed an envelope to "Mr. Bijah Bixby of Clovelly," +and gave it to Cynthia. "When he comes back for his wagon, hand it to +him," he said, feeling that he would rather, at that moment, face the +devil himself than Mr. Bixby. + +Half an hour later, Cynthia gave Mr. Bixby the envelope as he unhitched +his horse; and so deftly did Bijah slip it into his pocket, that he must +certainly have misjudged its contents. None of the loungers at Ephraim's +remarked the transaction. + +If Jethro had indeed instructed Bijah to look after his flock at +Coniston, it was an ill-conditioned move, and some of the flock resented +it when they were quite sure that Bijah was climbing the notch road +toward Clovelly. The discussion (from which the storekeeper was +providentially omitted) was in full swing when the stage arrived, and Lem +Hallowell's voice silenced the uproar. It was Lem's boast that he never +had been and never would be a politician. + +"Why don't you folks quit railin' against Jethro and do somethin'?" he +said. "Bije turns up here, and you all scatter like a flock of crows. +I'm tired of makin' complaints about that Brampton road, and to-day the +hull side of it give way, and put me in the ditch. Sure as the sun rises +to-morrow, I'm goin' to make trouble for Jethro." + +"What be you a-goin' to do, Lem?" + +"Indict the town," replied Lem, vigorously. "Who is the town? Jethro, +hain't he? Who has charge of the highways? Jethro Bass, Chairman of the +Selectmen. I've spoke to him, time and agin, about that piece, and he +hain't done nothin'. To-night I go to Harwich and git the court to +app'int an agent to repair that road, and the town'll hev to pay the +bill." + +The boldness of Lem's intention for the moment took away their breaths, +and then the awe-stricken hush which followed his declaration was broken +by the sound of Chester's fist hammering on the counter. + +"That's the sperrit," he cried; "I'll go along with you, Lem." + +"No, you won't," said Lem, "you'll stay right whar you be." + +"Chester wants to git credit for the move," suggested Sam Price, slyly. + +"It's a lie, Sam Price," shouted Chester. "What made you sneak off when +Bije Bixby come?" + +"Didn't sneak off," retorted Sam, indignantly, through his nose; "forgot +them eggs I left to home." + +"Sam, said Lem, with a wink at Moses Hatch, "you hitch up your hoss and +fetch me over to Harwich to git that indictment. Might git a chance to +see that lady." + +"Wal, now, I wish I could, Lem, but my hoss is stun lame." + +There was a roar of laughter, during which Sam tried to look unconcerned. + +"Mebbe Rias'll take me over," said Lem, soberly. "You hitch up, Rias?" + +"He's gone," said Joe Northcutt, "slid out the door when you was speakin' +to Sam." + +"Hain't none of you folks got spunk enough to carry me over to see the +jedge?" demanded Lem; "my horses ain't fit to travel to-night." Another +silence followed, and Lem laughed contemptuously but good-naturedly, and +turned on his heel. "Guess I'll walk, then," he said. + +"You kin have my white hoss, Lem," said Moses Hatch. + +"All right," said Lem;" I'll come round and hitch up soon's I git my +supper." + +An hour later, when Cynthia and her father and Millicent Skinner--who +condescended to assist in the work and cooking of Mr. Wetherell's +household--were seated at supper in the little kitchen behind the store, +the head and shoulders of the stage-driver were thrust in at the window, +his face shining from its evening application of soap and water. He was +making eyes at Cynthia. + +"Want to go to Harwich, Will?" he asked. + +William set his cup down quickly. + +"You hain't afeard, be you?" he continued. "Most folks that hasn't went +West or died is afeard of Jethro Bass." + +"Daddy isn't afraid of him, and I'm not," said Cynthia. + +"That's right, Cynthy," said Lem, leaning over and giving a tug to the +pigtail that hung down her back; "there hain't nothin' to be afeard of." + +"I like him," said Cynthia; "he's very good to me." + +"You stick to him, Cynthy," said the stage driver. + +"Ready, Will?" + +It may readily be surmised that Mr. Wetherell did not particularly wish +to make this excursion, the avowed object of which was to get Mr. Bass +into trouble. But he went, and presently he found himself jogging along +on the mountain road to Harwich. From the crest of Town's End ridge they +looked upon the western peaks tossing beneath a golden sky. The spell of +the evening's beauty seemed to have fallen on them both, and for a long +time Lem spoke not a word, and nodded smilingly but absently to the +greetings that came from the farm doorways. + +"Will," he said at last, "you acted sensible. There's no mite of use of +your gettin' mixed up in politics. You're too good for 'em." + +"Too good!" exclaimed the storekeeper. + +"You're eddicated," Lem replied, with a tactful attempt to cover up a +deficiency; "you're a gentleman, ef you do keep store." + +Lemuel apparently thought that gentlemen and politics were +contradictions. He began to whistle, while Wetherell sat and wondered +that any one could be so care-free on such a mission. The day faded, and +went out, and the lights of Harwich twinkled in the valley. Wetherell +was almost tempted to mention his trouble to this man, as he had been to +Ephraim: the fear that each might think he wished to borrow money held +him back. + +"Jethro's all right," Lem remarked, "but if he neglects the road, he's +got to stand for it, same's any other. I writ him twice to the capital, +and give him fair warning afore he went. He knows I hain't doin' of it +for politics. I've often thought," Lem continued, "that ef some smart, +good woman could have got hold of him when he was young, it would have +made a big difference. What's the matter?" + +"Have you room enough?" + +"I guess I've got the hull seat," said Lem. "As I was sayin', if some +able woman had married Jethro and made him look at things a little mite +different, he would have b'en a big man. He has all the earmarks. Why, +when he comes back to Coniston, them fellers'll hunt their holes like +rabbits, mark my words." + +"You don't think--" + +"Don't think what?" + +"I understand he holds the mortgages of some of them," said Wetherell. + +"Shouldn't blame him a great deal ef he did git tired and sell Chester +out soon. This thing happens regular as leap year." + +"Jethro Bass doesn't seem to frighten you," said the storekeeper. + +"Well," said Lem, "I hain't afeard of him, that's so. For the life of +me, I can't help likin' him, though he does things that I wouldn't do for +all the power in Christendom. Here's Jedge Parkinson's house." + +Wetherell remained in the wagon while Lemuel went in to transact his +business. The judge's house, outlined in the starlight, was a modest +dwelling with a little porch and clambering vines, set back in its own +garden behind a picket fence. Presently, from the direction of the lines +of light in the shutters, came the sound of voices, Lem's deep and +insistent, and another, pitched in a high nasal key, deprecatory and +protesting. There was still another, a harsh one that growled something +unintelligible, and Wetherell guessed, from the fragments which he heard, +that the judge before sitting down to his duty was trying to dissuade the +stage driver from a step that was foolhardy. He guessed likewise that +Lem was not to be dissuaded. At length a silence followed, then the door +swung open, and three figures came down the illuminated path. + +"Like to make you acquainted with Jedge Abner Parkinson, Mr. Wetherell, +and Jim Irving. Jim's the sheriff of Truro County, and I guess the jedge +don't need any recommendation as a lawyer from me. You won't mind +stayin' awhile with the jedge while Jim and I go down town with the team? +You're both literary folks." + +Wetherell followed the judge into the house. He was sallow, tall and +spare and stooping, clean-shaven, with a hooked nose and bright eyes--the +face of an able and adroit man, and he wore the long black coat of the +politician-lawyer. The room was filled with books, and from these Judge +Parkinson immediately took his cue, probably through a fear that +Wetherell might begin on the subject of Lemuel's errand. However, it +instantly became plain that the judge was a true book lover, and despite +the fact that Lem's visit had disturbed him not a little, he soon grew +animated in a discussion on the merits of Sir Walter Scott, paced the +room, pitched his nasal voice higher and higher, covered his table with +volumes of that author to illustrate his meaning. Neither of them heard +a knock, and they both stared dumfounded at the man who filled the +doorway. + +It was Jethro Bass! + +He entered the room with characteristic unconcern, as if he had just left +it on a trivial errand, and without a "How do you do?" or a "Good +evening," parted his coat tails, and sat down in the judge's armchair. +The judge dropped the volume of Scott on the desk, and as for Wetherell, +he realized for once the full meaning of the biblical expression of a +man's tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth; the gleam of one of +Jethro's brass buttons caught his eye and held it fascinated. + +"Literary talk, Judge?" said Jethro. "D-don't mind me--go on." + +"Thought you were at the capital," said the judge, reclaiming some of his +self-possession. + +"Good many folks thought so," answered Jethro, "g-good many folks." + +There was no conceivable answer to this, so the judge sat down with an +affectation of ease. He was a man on whom dignity lay heavily, and was +not a little ruffled because Wetherell had been a witness of his +discomfiture. He leaned back in his chair, then leaned forward, +stretching his neck and clearing his throat, a position in which he bore +a ludicrous resemblance to a turkey gobbler. + +"Most through the Legislature?" inquired the judge. + +"'Bout as common," said Jethro. + +There was a long silence, and, forgetful for the moment of his own +predicament, Wetherell found a fearful fascination in watching the +contortions of the victim whose punishment was to precede his. It had +been one of the delights of Louis XI to contemplate the movements of a +certain churchman whom he had had put in a cage, and some inkling of the +pleasure to be derived from this pastime of tyrants dawned on Wetherell. +Perhaps the judge, too, thought of this as he looked at "Quentin Durward" +on the table. + +"I was just sayin' to Lem Hallowell," began the judge, at last, "that I +thought he was a little mite hasty--" + +"Er--indicted us, Judge?" said Jethro. + +The judge and Wetherell heard the question with different emotions. Mr. +Parkinson did not seem astonished at the miracle which had put Jethro in +possession of this information, but heaved a long sigh of relief, as a +man will when the worst has at length arrived. + +"I had to, Jethro--couldn't help it. I tried to get Hallowell to wait +till you come back and talk it over friendly, but he wouldn't listen; +said the road was dangerous, and that he'd spoken about it too often. He +said he hadn't anything against you." + +"Didn't come in to complain," said Jethro, "didn't come in to complain. +Road is out of repair. W-what's the next move?" + +"I'm sorry, Jethro--I swan I'm sorry." He cleared his throat. "Well," +he continued in his judicial manner, "the court has got to appoint an +agent to repair that road, the agent will present the bill, and the town +will have to pay the bill--whatever it is. It's too bad, Jethro, that +you have allowed this to be done." + +"You say you've got to app'int an agent?" + +"Yes--I'm sorry--" + +"Have you app'inted one?" + +"No." + +"G-got any candidates?" + +The judge scratched his head. + +"Well, I don't know as I have." + +"Well, have you?" + +"No," said the judge. + +"A-any legal objection to my bein' app'inted?" asked Jethro. + +The judge looked at him and gasped. But the look was an involuntary +tribute of admiration. + +"Well," he said hesitatingly, "I don't know as there is, Jethro. No, +there's no legal objection to it." + +"A-any other kind of objection?" said Jethro. + +The judge appeared to reflect. + +"Well, no," he said at last, "I don't know as there is." + +"Well, is there?" said Jethro, again. + +"No," said the judge, with the finality of a decision. A smile seemed to +be pulling at the corners of his mouth. + +"Well, I'm a candidate," said Jethro. + +"Do you tell me, Jethro, that you want me to appoint you agent to fix +that road?" + +"I-I'm a candidate." + +"Well," said the judge, rising, "I'll do it." + +"When?" said Jethro, sitting still. + +"I'll send the papers over to you within two or three days. + +"O-ought to be done right away, Judge. Road's in bad shape." + +"Well, I'll send the papers over to you to-morrow." + +"How long--would it take to make out that app'intment--how long?" + +"It wouldn't take but a little while." + +"I'll wait," said Jethro. + +"Do you want to take the appointment along with you to-night?" asked the +judge, in surprise. + +"G-guess that's about it." + +Without a word the judge went over to his table, and for a while the +silence was broken only by the scratching of his pen. + +"Er--interested in roads,--Will,--interested in roads?" + +The judge stopped writing to listen, since it was now the turn of the +other victim. + +"Not particularly," answered Mr. Wetherell, whose throat was dry. + +"C-come over for the drive--c-come over for the drive?" + +"Yes," replied the storekeeper, rather faintly. + +"H-how's Cynthy?" said Jethro. + +The storekeeper was too astonished to answer. At that moment there was a +heavy step in the doorway, and Lem Hallowell entered the room. He took +one long look at Jethro and bent over and slapped his hand on his knee, +and burst out laughing. + +"So here you be!" he cried. "By Godfrey! ef you don't beat all outdoors, +Jethro. Wal, I got ahead of ye for once, but you can't say I didn't warn +ye. Come purty nigh bustin' the stage on that road today, and now I'm a- +goin' to hev an agent app'inted." + +"W-who's the agent?" said Jethro. + +"We'll git one. Might app'int Will, there, only he don't seem to want to +get mixed up in it." + +"There's the agent," cried the judge, holding out the appointment to +Jethro. + +"Wh-what?" ejaculated Lem. + +Jethro took the appointment, and put it in his cowhide wallet. + +"Be you the agent?" demanded the amazed stage driver. + +"C-callate to be," said Jethro, and without a smile or another word to +any one he walked out into the night, and after various exclamations of +astonishment and admiration, the stage driver followed. + +No one, indeed, could have enjoyed this unexpected coup of Jethro's more +than Lem himself, and many times on their drive homeward he burst into +loud and unexpected fits of laughter at the sublime conception of the +Chairman of the Selectmen being himself appointed road agent. + +"Will," said he, "don't you tell this to a soul. We'll have some fun out +of some of the boys to-morrow." + +The storekeeper promised, but he had an unpleasant presentiment that he +himself might be one of the boys in question. + +"How do you suppose Jethro Bass knew you were going to indict the town?" +he asked of the stage driver. + +Lem burst into fresh peals of laughter; but this was something which he +did not attempt to answer. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +It so happened that there was a certain spinster whom Sam Price had been +trying to make up his mind to marry for ten years or more, and it was +that gentleman's habit to spend at least one day in the month in Harwich +for the purpose of paying his respects. In spite of the fact that his +horse had been "stun lame" the night before, Mr. Price was able to start +for Harwich, via Brampton, very early the next morning. He was driving +along through Northcutt's woods with one leg hanging over the wheel, +humming through his nose what we may suppose to have been a love-ditty, +and letting his imagination run riot about the lady in question, when he +nearly fell out of his wagon. The cause of this was the sight of fat Tom +coming around a corner, with Jethro Bass behind him. Lem Hallowell and +the storekeeper had kept their secret so well that Sam, if he was +thinking about Jethro at all, believed him at that moment to be seated in +the Throne Room at the Pelican House, in the capital. + +Mr. Price, however, was one of an adaptable nature, and by the time he +had pulled up beside Jethro he had recovered sufficiently to make a few +remarks on farming subjects, and finally to express a polite surprise at +Jethro's return. + +"But you come a little mite late, hain't you, Jethro?" he asked finally, +with all of the indifference he could assume. + +"H-how's that, Sam--how's that?" + +"It's too bad,--I swan it is,--but Lem Hallowell rode over to Harwich +last night and indicted the town for that piece of road by the Four +Corners. Took Will Wetherell along with him." + +"D-don't say so!" said Jethro. + +"I callate he done it," responded Sam, pulling a long face. "The +court'll hev to send an agent to do the job, and I guess you'll hev to +foot the bill, Jethro." + +"C-court'll hev to app'int an agent?" + +"I callate." + +"Er--you a candidate--Sam--you a candidate?" + +"Don't know but what I be," answered the usually wary Mr. Price. + +"G-goin' to Harwich--hain't you?" + +"Mebbe I be, and mebbe I hain't," said Sam, not able to repress a self- +conscious snicker. + +"M-might as well be you as anybody, Sam," said Jethro, as he drove on. + +It was not strange that the idea, thus planted, should grow in Mr. +Price's favor as he proceeded. He had been surprised at Jethro's +complaisance, and he wondered whether, after all, he had done well to +help Chester stir people up at this time. When he reached Harwich, +instead of presenting himself promptly at the spinster's house, he went +first to the office of Judge Parkinson, as became a prudent man of +affairs. + +Perhaps there is no need to go into the details of Mr. Price's +discomfiture on the occasion of this interview. The judge was by nature +of a sour disposition, but he haw-hawed so loudly as he explained to Mr. +Price the identity of the road agent that the judge of probate in the +next office thought his colleague had gone mad. Afterward Mr. Price +stood for some time in the entry, where no one could see him, scratching +his head and repeating his favorite exclamation, "I want to know!" It +has been ascertained that he omitted to pay his respects to the spinster +on that day. + +Cyamon Johnson carried the story back to Coniston, where it had the +effect of eliminating Mr. Price from local politics for some time to +come. + +That same morning Chester Perkins was seen by many driving wildly about +from farm to farm, supposedly haranguing his supporters to make a final +stand against the tyrant, but by noon it was observed by those +naturalists who were watching him that his activity had ceased. Chester +arrived at dinner time at Joe Northcutt's, whose land bordered on the +piece of road which had caused so much trouble, and Joe and half a dozen +others had been at work there all morning under the road agent whom Judge +Parkinson had appointed. Now Mrs. Northcutt was Chester's sister, a +woman who in addition to other qualities possessed the only sense of +humor in the family. She ushered the unsuspecting Chester into the +kitchen, and there, seated beside Joe and sipping a saucer of very hot +coffee, was Jethro Bass himself. Chester halted in the doorway, his face +brick-red, words utterly failing him, while Joe sat horror-stricken, +holding aloft on his fork a smoking potato. Jethro continued to sip his +coffee. + +"B-busy times, Chester," he said, "b-busy times." + +Chester choked. Where were the burning words of denunciation which came +so easily to his tongue on other occasions? It is difficult to denounce +a man who insists upon drinking coffee. + +"Set right down, Chester," said Mrs. Northcutt, behind him. + +Chester sat down, and to this day he cannot account for that action. +Once seated, habit asserted itself; and he attacked the boiled dinner +with a ferocity which should have been exercised against Jethro. + +"I suppose the stores down to the capital is finer than ever, Mr. Bass," +remarked Mrs. Northcutt. + +"So-so, Mis' Northcutt, so-so." + +"I was there ten years ago," remarked Mrs. Northcutt, with a sigh of +reminiscence, "and I never see such fine silks and bonnets in my life. +Now I've often wanted to ask you, did you buy that bonnet with the +trembly jet things for Mis' Bass?" + +"That bonnet come out full better'n I expected," answered Jethro, +modestly. + +"You have got taste in wimmin's fixin's, Mr. Bass. Strange? Now I +wouldn't let Joe choose my things for worlds." + +So the dinner progressed, Joe with his eyes on his plate, Chester silent, +but bursting with anger and resentment, until at last Jethro pushed back +his chair, and said good day to Mrs. Northcutt and walked out. Chester +got up instantly and went after him, and Joe, full of forebodings, +followed his brother-in-law! Jethro was standing calmly on the grass +plot, whittling a toothpick. Chester stared at him a moment, and then +strode off toward the barn, unhitched his horse and jumped in his wagon. +Something prompted him to take another look at Jethro, who was still +whittling. + +"C-carry me down to the road, Chester--c-carry me down to the road?" said +Jethro. + +Joe Northcutt's knees gave way under him, and he sat down on a sugar +kettle. Chester tightened up his reins so suddenly that his horse +reared, while Jethro calmly climbed into the seat beside him and they +drove off. It was some time before Joe had recovered sufficiently to +arise and repair to the scene of operations on the road. + +It was Joe who brought the astounding news to the store that evening. +Chester was Jethro's own candidate for senior Selectman! Jethro himself +had said so, that he would be happy to abdicate in Chester's favor, and +make it unanimous--Chester having been a candidate so many times, and +disappointed. + +"Whar's Chester?" said Lem Hallowell. + +Joe pulled a long face. + +"Just come from his house, and he hain't done a lick of work sence noon +time. Jest sets in a corner--won't talk, won't eat--jest sets thar." + +Lem sat down on the counter and laughed until he was forced to brush the +tears from his cheeks at the idea of Chester Perkins being Jethro's +candidate. Where was reform now? If Chester were elected, it would be +in the eyes of the world as Jethro's man. No wonder he sat in a corner +and refused to eat. + +"Guess you'll ketch it next, Will, for goin' over to Harwich with Lem," +Joe remarked playfully to the storekeeper, as he departed. + +These various occurrences certainly did not tend to allay the uneasiness +of Mr. Wetherell. The next afternoon, at a time when a slack trade was +slackest, he had taken his chair out under the apple tree and was sitting +with that same volume of Byron in his lap--but he was not reading. The +humorous aspects of the doings of Mr. Bass did not particularly appeal to +him now; and he was, in truth, beginning to hate this man whom the fates +had so persistently intruded into his life. William Wetherell was not, +it may have been gathered, what may be called vindictive. He was a +sensitive, conscientious person whose life should have been in the vale; +and yet at that moment he had a fierce desire to confront Jethro Bass +and--and destroy him. Yes, he felt equal to that. + +Shocks are not very beneficial to sensitive natures. William Wetherell +looked up, and there was Jethro Bass on the doorstep. + +"G-great resource--readin'--great resource," he remarked. + +In this manner Jethro snuffed out utterly that passion to destroy, and +another sensation took its place--a sensation which made it very +difficult for William Wetherell to speak, but he managed to reply that +reading had been a great resource to him. Jethro had a parcel in his +hand, and he laid it down on the step beside him; and he seemed, for once +in his life, to be in a mood for conversation. + +"It's hard for me to read a book," he observed. "I own to it--it's a +little mite hard. H-hev to kind of spell it out in places. Hain't had +much time for readin'. But it's kind of pleasant to l'arn what other +folks has done in the world by pickin' up a book. T-takes your mind off +things--don't it?" + +Wetherell felt like saying that his reading had not been able to do that +lately. Then he made the plunge, and shuddered as he made it. + +"Mr. Bass--I--I have been waiting to speak to you about that mortgage." + +"Er--yes," he answered, without moving his head, "er--about the +mortgage." + +"Mr. Worthington told me that you had bought it." + +"Yes, I did--yes, I did." + +"I'm afraid you will have to foreclose," said Wetherell; "I cannot +reasonably ask you to defer the payments any longer." + +"If I foreclose it, what will you do?" he demanded abruptly. + +There was but one answer--Wetherell would have to go back to the city and +face the consequences. He had not the strength to earn his bread on a +farm. + +"If I'd a b'en in any hurry for the money--g-guess I'd a notified you," +said Jethro. + +"I think you had better foreclose, Mr. Bass," Wetherell answered; "I +can't hold out any hopes to you that it will ever be possible for me to +pay it off. It's only fair to tell you that." + +"Well," he said, with what seemed a suspicion of a smile, "I don't know +but what that's about as honest an answer as I ever got." + +"Why did you do it?" Wetherell cried, suddenly goaded by another fear; +"why did you buy that mortgage?" + +But this did not shake his composure. + +"H-have a little habit of collectin' 'em," he answered, "same as you do +books. G-guess some of 'em hain't as valuable." + +William Wetherell was beginning to think that Jethro knew something also +of such refinements of cruelty as were practised by Caligula. He drew +forth his cowhide wallet and produced from it a folded piece of newspaper +which must, Wetherell felt sure, contain the mortgage in question. + +"There's one power I always wished I had," he observed, "the power to make +folks see some things as I see 'em. I was acrost the Water to-night, on +my hill farm, when the sun set, and the sky up thar above the mountain +was all golden bars, and the river all a-flamin' purple, just as if it +had been dyed by some of them Greek gods you're readin' about. Now if I +could put them things on paper, I wouldn't care a haycock to be +President. No, sir." + +The storekeeper's amazement as he listened to this speech may be +imagined. Was this Jethro Bass? If so, here was a side of him the +existence of which no one suspected. Wetherell forgot the matter in +hand. + +"Why don't you put that on paper?" he exclaimed. + +Jethro smiled, and made a deprecating motion with his thumb. + +"Sometimes when I hain't busy, I drop into the state library at the +capital and enjoy myself. It's like goin' to another world without any +folks to bother you. Er--er--there's books I'd like to talk to you +about--sometime." + +"But I thought you told me you didn't read much, Mr. Bass?" + +He made no direct reply, but unfolded the newspaper in his hand, and then +Wetherell saw that it was only a clipping. + +"H-happened to run across this in a newspaper--if this hain't this +county, I wahn't born and raised here. If it hain't Coniston Mountain +about seven o'clock of a June evening, I never saw Coniston Mountain. +Er--listen to this." + +Whereupon he read, with a feeling which Wetherell had not supposed he +possessed, an extract: and as the storekeeper listened his blood began to +run wildly. At length Jethro put down the paper without glancing at his +companion. + +"There's somethin' about that that fetches you spinnin' through the air," +he said slowly. "Sh-showed it to Jim Willard, editor of the Newcastle +Guardian. Er--what do you think he said?" + +"I don't know," said Wetherell, in a low voice. + +"Willard said, 'Bass, w-wish you'd find me that man. I'll give him five +dollars every week for a letter like that--er--five dollars a week.'" + +He paused, folded up the paper again and put it in his pocket, took out a +card and handed it to Wetherell. + + James G. Willard, Editor. + Newcastle Guardian. + +"That's his address," said Jethro. "Er--guess you'll know what to do +with it. Er--five dollars a week--five dollars a week." + +"How did you know I wrote this article?" said Wetherell, as the card +trembled between his fingers. + +"K-knowed the place was Coniston seen from the 'east, knowed there wahn't +any one is Brampton or Harwich could have done it--g-guessed the rest-- +guessed the rest." + +Wetherell could only stare at him like a man who, with the halter about +his neck, has been suddenly reprieved. But Jethro Bass did not appear to +be waiting for thanks. He cleared his throat, and had Wetherell not been +in such a condition himself, he would actually have suspected him of +embarrassment. + +"Er--Wetherell?" + +"Yes?" + +"W-won't say nothin' about the mortgage--p-pay it when you can." + +This roused the storekeeper to a burst of protest, but he stemmed it. + +"Hain't got the money, have you?" + +"No--but--" + +"If I needed money, d'ye suppose I'd bought the mortgage?" + +"No," answered the still bewildered Wetherell, "of course not." There he +stuck, that other suspicion of political coercion suddenly rising +uppermost. Could this be what the man meant? Wetherell put his hand to +his head, but he did not dare to ask the question. Then Jethro Bass +fixed his eyes upon him. + +"Hain't never mixed any in politics--hev you n-never mixed any?" + +Wetherell's heart sank. + +"No," he answered. + +"D-don't--take my advice--d-don't." + +"What!" cried the storekeeper, so loudly that he frightened himself. + +"D-don't," repeated Jethro, imperturbably. + +There was a short silence, the storekeeper being unable to speak. +Coniston Water, at the foot of the garden, sang the same song, but it +seemed to Wetherell to have changed its note from sorrow to joy. + +"H-hear things, don't you--hear things in the store?" + +"Yes." + +"Don't hear 'em. Keep out of politics, Will, s-stick to store-keepin' +and--and literature." + +Jethro got to his feet and turned his back on the storekeeper and picked +up the parcel be had brought. + +"C-Cynthy well?" he inquired. + +"I--I'll call her," said Wetherell, huskily. "She--she was down by the +brook when you came." + +But Jethro Bass did not wait. He took his parcel and strode down to +Coniston Water, and there he found Cynthia seated on a rock with her toes +in a pool. + +"How be you, Cynthy?" said he, looking down at her. + +"I'm well, Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia. + +"R-remembered what I told you to call me, hev you," said Jethro, plainly +pleased. "Th-that's right. Cynthy?" + +Cynthia looked up at him inquiringly. + +"S-said you liked books--didn't you? S-said you liked books?" + +"Yes, I do," she replied simply, "very much." + +He undid the wrapping of the parcel, and there lay disclosed a book with +a very gorgeous cover. He thrust it into the child's lap. + +"It's 'Robinson Crusoe'!" she exclaimed, and gave a little shiver of +delight that made ripples in the pool. Then she opened it--not without +awe, for William Wetherell's hooks were not clothed in this magnificent +manner. "It's full of pictures," cried Cynthia. "See, there he is +making a ship!" + +"Y-you read it, Cynthy?" asked Jethro, a little anxiously. + +No, Cynthia hadn't. + +"L-like it, Cynthy--l-like it?" said he, not quite so anxiously. + +Cynthia looked up at him with a puzzled expression. + +"F-fetched it up from the capital for you, Cynthy--for you." + +"For me!" + +A strange thrill ran through Jethro Bass as he gazed upon the wonder and +delight in the face of the child. + +"F-fetched it for you, Cynthy." + +For a moment Cynthia sat very still, and then she slowly closed the book +and stared at the cover again, Jethro looking down at her the while. To +tell the truth, she found it difficult to express the emotions which the +event had summoned up. + +"Thank you--Uncle Jethro," she said. + +Jethro, however, understood. He had, indeed, never failed to understand +her from the beginning. He parted his coat tails and sat down on the +rock beside her, and very gently opened the book again, to the first +chapter. + +"G-goin' to read it, Cynthy?" + +"Oh, yes," she said, and trembled again. + +"Er--read it to me?" + +So Cynthia read "Robinson Crusoe" to him while the summer afternoon wore +away, and the shadows across the pool grew longer and longer. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Thus William Wetherell became established in Coniston, and was started at +last--poor man--upon a life that was fairly tranquil. Lem Hallowell had +once covered him with blushes by unfolding a newspaper in the store and +reading an editorial beginning: "We publish today a new and attractive +feature of the Guardian, a weekly contribution from a correspondent whose +modesty is to be compared only with his genius as a writer. We are +confident that the readers of our Raper will appreciate the letter in +another column signed 'W. W.'" And from that day William was accorded +much of the deference due to a litterateur which the fates had hitherto +denied him. Indeed, during the six years which we are about to skip over +so lightly, he became a marked man in Coniston, and it was voted in towns +meeting that he be intrusted with that most important of literary labors, +the Town History of Coniston. + +During this period, too, there sprang up the strangest of intimacies +between him and Jethro Bass. Surely no more dissimilar men than these +have ever been friends, and that the friendship was sometimes misjudged +was one of the clouds on William Wetherell's horizon. As the years went +on he was still unable to pay off the mortgage; and sometimes, indeed, he +could not even meet the interest, in spite of the princely sum he +received from Mr. Willard of the Guardian. This was one of the clouds on +Jethro's horizon, too, if men had but known it, and he took such moneys +as Wetherell insisted upon giving him grudgingly enough. It is needless +to say that he refrained from making use of Mr. Wetherell politically, +although no poorer vessel for political purposes was ever constructed. +It is quite as needless to say, perhaps, that Chester Perkins never got +to be Chairman of the Board of Selectmen. + +After Aunt Listy died, Jethro was more than ever to be found, when in +Coniston, in the garden or the kitchen behind the store. Yes, Aunt Listy +is dead. She has flitted through these pages as she flitted through life +itself, arrayed by Jethro like the rainbow, and quite as shadowy and +unreal. There is no politician of a certain age in the state who does +not remember her walking, clad in dragon-fly colors, through the streets +of the capital on Jethro's arm, or descending the stairs of the Pelican +House to supper. None of Jethro's detractors may say that he ever failed +in kindness to her, and he loved her as much as was in his heart to love +any woman after Cynthia Ware. As for Aunt Listy, she never seemed to +feel any resentment against the child Jethro brought so frequently to +Thousand Acre Hill. Poor Aunt Listy! some people used to wonder whether +she ever felt any emotion at all. But I believe that she did, in her own +way. + +It is a well-known fact that Mr. Bijah Bixby came over from Clovelly, to +request the place of superintendent of the funeral, a position which had +already been filled. A special office, too, was created on this occasion +for an old supporter of Jethro's, Senator Peleg Hartington of Brampton. +He was made chairman of the bearers, of whom Ephraim Prescott was one. + +After this, as we have said, Jethro was more than ever at the store--or +rather in that domestic domain behind it which Wetherell and Cynthia +shared with Miss Millicent Skinner. Moses Hatch was wont to ask Cynthia +how her daddies were. It was he who used to clear out the road to the +little schoolhouse among the birches when the snow almost buried the +little village, and on sparkling mornings after the storms his oxen would +stop to breathe in front of the store, a cluster of laughing children +clinging to the snow-plough and tumbling over good-natured Moses in their +frolics. Cynthia became a country girl, and grew long and lithe of limb, +and weather-burnt, and acquired an endurance that spoke wonders for the +life-giving air of Coniston. But she was a serious child, and Wetherell +and Jethro sometimes wondered whether she was ever a child at all. When +Eben Hatch fell from the lumber pile on the ice, it was she who bound the +cut in his head; and when Tom Richardson unexpectedly embraced the +schoolhouse stove, Cynthia, not Miss Rebecca Northcutt, took charge of +the situation. + +It was perhaps inevitable, with such a helpless father, that the girl +should grow up with a sense of responsibility, being what she was. Did +William Wetherell go to Brampton, Cynthia examined his apparel, and he +was marched shamefacedly back to his room to change; did he read too late +at night, some unseen messenger summoned her out of her sleep, and he was +packed off to bed. Miss Millicent Skinner, too, was in a like mysterious +way compelled to abdicate her high place in favor of Cynthia, and +Wetherell was utterly unable to explain how this miracle was +accomplished. Not only did Millicent learn to cook, but Cynthia, at the +age of fourteen, had taught her. Some wit once suggested that the +national arms of the United States should contain the emblem of crossed +frying-pans, and Millicent was in this respect a true American. When +Wetherell began to suffer from her pies and doughnuts, the revolution +took place--without stampeding, or recriminations, or trouble of any +kind. One evening he discovered Cynthia, decked in an apron, bending +over the stove, and Millicent looking on with an expression that was (for +Millicent) benign. + +This was to some extent explained, a few days later, when Wetherell found +himself gazing across the counter at the motherly figure of Mrs. Moses +Hatch, who held the well-deserved honor of being the best cook in +Coniston. + +"Hain't had so much stomach trouble lately, Will?" she remarked. + +"No," he answered, surprised; "Cynthia is learning to cook." + +"Guess she is," said Mrs. Moses. "That gal is worth any seven grown-up +women in town. And she was four nights settin' in my kitchen before I +knowed what she was up to." + +"So you taught her, Amanda? + +"I taught her some. She callated that Milly was killin' you, and I guess +she was." + +During her school days, Jethro used frequently to find himself in front +of the schoolhouse when the children came trooping out--quite by +accident, of course. Winter or summer, when he went away on his +periodical trips, he never came back without a little remembrance in his +carpet bag, usually a book, on the subject of which he had spent hours in +conference with the librarian at the state library at the capital. But +in June of the year when Cynthia was fifteen, Jethro yielded to that +passion which was one of the man's strangest characteristics, and +appeared one evening in the garden behind the store with a bundle which +certainly did not contain a book. With all the gravity of a ceremony he +took off the paper, and held up in relief against the astonished Cynthia +a length of cardinal cloth. William Wetherell, who was looking out of +the window, drew his breath, and even Jethro drew back with an +exclamation at the change wrought in her. But Cynthia snatched the roll +from his hand and wound it up with a feminine deftness. + +"Wh-what's the matter, Cynthy?" + +"Oh, I can't wear that, Uncle Jethro," she said. + +"C-can't wear it! Why not?" + +Cynthia sat down on the grassy mound under the apple tree and clasped her +hands across her knees. She looked up at him and shook her head. + +"Don't you see that I couldn't wear it, Uncle Jethro?" + +"Why not?" he demanded. "Ch-change it if you've a mind to hev green." + +She shook her head, and smiled at him a little sadly. + +"T-took me a full hour to choose that, Cynthy," said he. "H-had to go to +Boston so I got it there." + +He was, indeed, grievously disappointed at this reception of his gift, +and he stood eying the cardinal cloth very mournfully as it lay on the +paper. Cynthia, remorseful, reached up and seized his hand. + +"Sit down here, Uncle Jethro." He sat down on the mound beside her, very +much perplexed. She still held his hand in hers. "Uncle Jethro," she +said slowly, "you mustn't think I'm not grateful." + +"N-no," he answered; "I don't think that, Cynthy. I know you be." + +"I am grateful--I'm very grateful for everything you give me, although I +should love you just as much if you didn't give me anything." + +She was striving very hard not to offend him, for in some ways he was as +sensitive as Wetherell himself. Even Coniston folk had laughed at the +idiosyncrasy which Jethro had of dressing his wife in brilliant colors, +and the girl knew this. + +"G-got it for you to wear to Brampton on the Fourth of July, Cynthy," he +said. + +"Uncle Jethro, I couldn't wear that to Brampton!" + +"You'd look like a queen," said he. + +"But I'm not a queen," objected Cynthia. + +"Rather hev somethin' else?" + +"Yes," she said, looking at him suddenly with the gleam of laughter in +her eyes, although she was on the verge of tears. + +"Wh-what?" Jethro demanded. + +"Well," said Cynthia, demurely gazing down at her ankles, "shoes and +stockings." The barefooted days had long gone by. + +Jethro laughed. Perhaps some inkling of her reasons came to him, for he +had a strange and intuitive understanding of her. At any rate, he +accepted her decision with a meekness which would have astonished many +people who knew only that side of him which he showed to the world. +Gently she released her hand, and folded up the bundle again and gave it +to him. + +"B-better keep it--hadn't you?" + +"No, you keep it. And I will wear it for you when I am rich, Uncle +Jethro." + +Jethro did keep it, and in due time the cardinal cloth had its uses. But +Cynthia did not wear it on the Fourth of July. + +That was a great day for Brampton, being not only the nation's birthday, +but the hundredth year since the adventurous little band of settlers from +Connecticut had first gazed upon Coniston Water at that place. Early in +the morning wagon loads began to pour into Brampton Street from Harwich, +from Coniston, from Tarleton Four Corners, and even from distant +Clovelly, and Brampton was banner-hung for the occasion--flags across the +stores, across the dwellings, and draped along the whole breadth of the +meeting-house; but for sheer splendor the newly built mansion of Isaac D. +Worthington outshone them all. Although its owner was a professed +believer in republican simplicity, no such edifice ornamented any town to +the west of the state capital. Small wonder that the way in front of it +was blocked by a crowd lost in admiration of its Gothic proportions! It +stands to-day one of many monuments to its builder, with its windows of +one pane (unheard-of magnificence), its tower of stone, its porch with +pointed arches and scroll-work. No fence divides its grounds from the +public walk, and on the smooth-shaven lawn between the ornamental flower +beds and the walk stand two stern mastiffs of iron, emblematic of the +solidity and power of their owner. It was as much to see this house as +to hear the oratory that the countryside flocked to Brampton that day. + +All the day before Cynthia and Milly, and many another housewife, had +been making wonderful things for the dinners they were to bring, and +stowing them in the great basket ready for the early morning start. At +six o'clock Jethro's three-seated farm wagon was in front of the store. +Cousin Ephraim Prescott, in a blue suit and an army felt hat with a cord, +got up behind, a little stiffly by reason of that Wilderness bullet; and +there were also William Wetherell and Lem Hallowell, his honest face +shining, and Sue, his wife, and young Sue and Jock and Lilian, all a- +quiver with excitement in their Sunday best. + +And as they drove away there trotted up behind them Moses and Amandy +Hatch, with their farm team, and all the little Hatches,--Eben and George +and Judy and Liza. As they jogged along they drank in the fragrance of +the dew-washed meadows and the pines, and a great blue heron stood knee- +deep on the far side of Deacon Lysander's old mill-pond, watching them +philosophically as they passed. + +It was eight o'clock when they got into the press of Brampton Street, and +there was a hush as they made their way slowly through the throng, and +many a stare at the curious figure in the old-fashioned blue swallowtail +and brass buttons and tall hat, driving the farm wagon. Husbands pointed +him out to their wives, young men to sisters and sweethearts, some +openly, some discreetly. "There goes Jethro Bass," and some were bold +enough to say, "Howdy, Jethro?" Jake Wheeler was to be observed in the +crowd ahead of them, hurried for once out of his Jethro step, actually +running toward the tavern, lest such a one arrive unheralded. Commotion +is perceived on the tavern porch,--Mr. Sherman, the proprietor, bustling +out, Jake Wheeler beside him; a chorus of "How be you, Jethros?" from the +more courageous there,--but the farm team jogs on, leaving a discomfited +gathering, into the side street, up an alley, and into the cool, ammonia- +reeking sheds of lank Jim Sanborn's livery stable. No obsequiousness +from lank Jim, who has the traces slipped and the reins festooned from +the bits almost before Jethro has lifted Cynthia to the floor. Jethro, +walking between Cynthia and her father, led the way, Ephraim, Lem, and +Sue Hallowell following, the children, in unwonted shoes and stockings, +bringing up the rear. The people parted, and presently they found +themselves opposite the new-scrolled band stand among the trees, where +the Harwich band in glittering gold and red had just been installed. The +leader; catching sight of Jethro's party, and of Ephraim's corded army +hat, made a bow, waved his baton, and they struck up "Marching through +Georgia." It was, of course, not dignified to cheer, but I think that +the blood of every man and woman and child ran faster with the music, and +so many of them looked at Cousin Ephraim that he slipped away behind the +line of wagons. So the day began. + +"Jest to think of bein' that rich, Will!" exclaimed Amanda Hatch to the +storekeeper, as they stood in the little group which had gathered in +front of the first citizen's new mansion. "I own it scares me. Think +how much that house must hev cost, and even them dogs," said Amanda, +staring at the mastiffs with awe. "They tell me he has a grand piano +from New York, and guests from Boston railroad presidents. I call Isaac +Worthington to mind when he wahn't but a slip of a boy with a cough, +runnin' after Cynthy Ware." She glanced down at Cynthia with something +of compassion. "Just to think, child, he might have be'n your father!" + +"I'm glad he isn't," said Cynthia, hotly. + +"Of course, of course," replied the good-natured and well-intentioned +Amanda, "I'd sooner have your father than Isaac Worthington. But I was +only thinkin' how nice it would be to be rich." + +Just then one of the glass-panelled doors of this house opened, and a +good-looking lad of seventeen came out. + +"That's Bob Worthington," said Amanda, determined that they should miss +nothing. "My! it wahn't but the other day when he put on long pants. It +won't be a great while before he'll go into the mills and git all that +money. Guess he'll marry some city person. He'd ought to take you, +Cynthy." + +"I don't want him," said Cynthia, the color flaming into her cheeks. And +she went off across the green in search of Jethro. + +There was a laugh from the honest country folk who had listened. Bob +Worthington came to the edge of the porch and stood there, frankly +scanning the crowd, with an entire lack of self-consciousness. Some of +them shifted nervously, with the New Englander's dislike of being caught +in the act of sight-seeing. + +"What in the world is he starin' at me for?" said Amanda, backing behind +the bulkier form of her husband. "As I live, I believe he's comin' +here." + +Young Mr. Worthington was, indeed, descending the steps and walking +across the lawn toward them, nodding and smiling to acquaintances as he +passed. To Wetherell's astonishment he made directly for the place where +he was standing and held out his hand. + +"How do you do, Mr. Wetherell?" he said. "Perhaps you don't remember +me,--Bob Worthington." + +I can't say that I should have known you," answered the storekeeper. +They were all absurdly silent, thinking of nothing to say and admiring +the boy because he was at ease. + +"I hope you have a good seat at the exercises," he said, pressing +Wetherell's hand again, and before he could thank him, Bob was off in the +direction of the band stand. + +"One thing," remarked Amanda, "he ain't much like his dad. You'd never +catch Isaac Worthington bein' that common." + +Just then there came another interruption for William Wetherell, who was +startled by the sound of a voice in his ear--a nasal voice that awoke +unpleasant recollections. He turned to confront, within the distance of +eight inches, the face of Mr. Bijah Bixby of Clovelly screwed up into a +greeting. The storekeeper had met Mr. Bixby several times since that +first memorable meeting, and on each occasion, as now, his hand had made +an involuntary movement to his watch pocket. + +"Hain't seed you for some time, Will," remarked Mr. Bixby; "goin' over to +the exercises? We'll move along that way," and he thrust his hand under +Mr. Wetherell's elbow. "Whar's Jethro?" + +"He's here somewhere," answered the storekeeper, helplessly, moving along +in spite of himself. + +"Keepin' out of sight, you understand," said Bijah, with a knowing wink, +as much as to say that Mr. Wetherell was by this time a past master in +Jethro tactics. Mr. Bixby could never disabuse his mind of a certain +interpretation which he put on the storekeeper's intimacy with Jethro. +"You done well to git in with him, Will. Didn't think you had it in you +when I first looked you over." + +Mr. Wetherell wished to make an indignant denial, but he didn't know +exactly how to begin. + +"Smartest man in the United States of America--guess you know that," Mr. +Bixby continued amiably. "They can't git at him unless he wants 'em to. +There's a railroad president at Isaac Worthington's who'd like to git at +him to-day,--guess you know that,--Steve Merrill." + +Mr. Wetherell didn't know, but he was given no time to say so. + +"Steve Merrill, of the Grand Gulf and Northern. He hain't here to see +Worthington; he's here to see Jethro, when Jethro's a mind to. Guess you +understand." + +"I know nothing about it," answered Wetherell, shortly. Mr. Bixby gave +him a look of infinite admiration, as though he could not have pursued +any more admirable line. + +"I know Steve Merrill better'n I know you," said Mr. Bixby, "and he knows +me. Whenever he sees me at the state capital he says, 'How be you, +Bije?' just as natural as if I was a railroad president, and slaps me on +the back. When be you goin' to the capital, Will? You'd ought to come +down and be thar with the boys on this Truro Bill. You could reach some +on 'em the rest of us couldn't git at." + +William Wetherell avoided a reply to this very pointed inquiry by +escaping into the meeting-house, where he found Jethro and Cynthia and +Ephraim already seated halfway up the aisle. + +On the platform, behind a bank of flowers, are the velvet covered chairs +which contain the dignitaries of the occasion. The chief of these is, of +course, Mr. Isaac Worthington, the one with the hawk-like look, sitting +next to the Rev. Mr. Sweet, who is rather pudgy by contrast. On the +other side of Mr. Sweet, next to the parlor organ and the quartette, is +the genial little railroad president Mr. Merrill, batting the flies which +assail the unprotected crown of his head, and smiling benignly on the +audience. + +Suddenly his eye becomes fixed, and he waves a fat hand vigorously at +Jethro, who answers the salute with a nod of unwonted cordiality for him. +Then comes a hush, and the exercises begin. + +There is a prayer, of course, by the Rev. Mr. Sweet, and a rendering of +"My Country" and "I would not Change my Lot," and other choice selections +by the quartette; and an original poem recited with much feeling by a +lady admirer of Miss Lucretia Penniman, and the "Hymn to Coniston" +declaimed by Mr. Gamaliel Ives, president of the Brampton Literary Club. +But the crowning event is, of course, the oration by Mr. Isaac D. +Worthington, the first citizen, who is introduced under that title by the +chairman of the day; and as the benefactor of Brampton, who has bestowed +upon the town the magnificent gift which was dedicated such a short time +ago, the Worthington Free Library. + +Mr. Isaac D. Worthington stood erect beside the table, his hand thrust +into the opening of his coat, and spoke at the rate of one hundred and +eight words a minute, for exactly one hour. He sketched with much skill +the creed of the men who had fought their way through the forests to +build their homes by Coniston Water, who had left their clearings to risk +their lives behind Stark and Ethan Allen for that creed; he paid a +graceful tribute to the veterans of the Civil War, scattered among his +hearers--a tribute, by the way, which for some reason made Ephraim very +indignant. Mr. Worthington went on to outline the duty of citizens of +the present day, as he conceived it, and in this connection referred, +with becoming modesty, to the Worthington Free Library. He had made his +money in Brampton, and it was but right that he should spend it for the +benefit of the people of Brampton. The library, continued Mr. +Worthington when the applause was over, had been the dream of a certain +delicate youth who had come, many years ago, to Brampton for his health. +(It is a curious fact, by the way, that Mr. Worthington seldom recalled +the delicate youth now, except upon public occasions.) + +Yes, the dream of that youth had been to benefit in some way that +community in which circumstances had decreed that he should live, and in +this connection it might not be out of place to mention a bill then +before the Legislature of the state, now in session. If the bill became +a law, the greatest modern factor of prosperity, the railroad, would come +to Brampton. The speaker was interrupted here by more applause. Mr. +Worthington did not deem it dignified or necessary to state that the +railroad to which he referred was the Truro Railroad; and that he, as the +largest stockholder, might indirectly share that prosperity with +Brampton. That would be wandering too far, from his subject, which, it +will be recalled, was civic duties. He took a glass of water, and went +on to declare that he feared--sadly feared--that the ballot was not held +as sacred as it had once been. He asked the people of Brampton, and of +the state, to stop and consider who in these days made the laws and +granted the franchises. Whereupon he shook his head very slowly and +sadly, as much as to imply that, if the Truro Bill did not pass, the +corruption of the ballot was to blame. No, Mr. Worthington could think +of no better subject on this Birthday of Independence than a +recapitulation of the creed of our forefathers, from which we had so far +wandered. + +In short, the first citizen, as became him, had delivered the first +reform speech ever heard in Brampton, and the sensation which it created +was quite commensurate to the occasion. The presence in the audience of +Jethro Bass, at whom many believed the remarks to have been aimed, added +no little poignancy to that sensation, although Jethro gave no outward +signs of the terror and remorse by which he must have been struck while +listening to Mr. Worthington's ruminations of the corruption of the +ballot. Apparently unconscious of the eyes upon him, he walked out of +the meeting-house with Cynthia by his side, and they stood waiting for +Wetherell and Ephraim under the maple tree there. + +The be-ribboned members of the Independence Day committee were now on the +steps, and behind them came Isaac Worthington and Mr. Merrill. The +people, scenting a dramatic situation, lingered. Would the mill owner +speak to the boss? The mill owner, with a glance at the boss, did +nothing of the kind, but immediately began to talk rapidly to Mr. +Merrill. That gentleman, however, would not be talked to, but came +running over to Jethro and seized his hand, leaving Mr. Worthington to +walk on by himself. + +"Jethro," cried the little railroad president, "upon my word. Well, +well. And Miss Jethro," he took off his hat to Cynthia, "well, well. +Didn't know you had a girl, Jethro." + +"W-wish she was mine, Steve," said Jethro. "She's a good deal to me as +it is. Hain't you, Cynthy?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia. + +"Well, well," said Mr. Merrill, staring at her, "you'll have to look out +for her some day--keep the boys away from her--eh? Upon my word! Well, +Jethro," said he, with a twinkle in his eye, "are you goin' to reform? +I'll bet you've got an annual over my road in your pocket right now." + +"Enjoy the speech-makin', Steve?" inquired Mr. Bass, solemnly. + +Mr. Merrill winked at Jethro, and laughed heartily. + +"Keep the boys away from her, Jethro," he repeated, laying his hand on +the shoulder of the lad who stood beside him. "It's a good thing Bob's +going off to Harvard this fall. Seems to me I heard about some cutting +up at Andover--eh, Bob?" + +Bob grinned, showing a line of very white teeth. + +Mr. Merrill took Jethro by the arm and led him off a little distance, +having a message of some importance to give him, the purport of which +will appear later. And Cynthia and Bob were left face to face. Of +course Bob could have gone on, if he had wished it. + +"Don't remember me, do you?" he said. + +"I do now," said Cynthia, looking at him rather timidly through her +lashes. Her face was hot, and she had been, very uncomfortable during +Mr. Merrill's remarks. Furthermore, Bob had not taken his eyes off her. + +"I remembered you right away," he said reproachfully; "I saw you in front +of the house this morning, and you ran away." + +"I didn't runaway," replied Cynthia, indignantly. + +"It looked like it, to me," said Bob.. "I suppose you were afraid I was +going to give you anther whistle." + +Cynthia bit her lip, and then she laughed. Then she looked around to see +where Jethro was, and discovered that they were alone in front of the +meeting-house. Ephraim and her father had passed on while Mr. Merrill +was talking. + +"What's the matter?" asked Bob. + +"I'm afraid they've gone," said Cynthia. "I ought to be going after +them. They'll miss me." + +"Oh, no, they won't," said Bob, easily, "let's sit down under the tree. +They'll come back." + +Whereupon he sat down under the maple. But Cynthia remained standing, +ready to fly. She had an idea that it was wrong to stay--which made it +all the more delightful. + +"Sit down--Cynthia," said he. + +She glanced down at him, startled. He was sitting, with his legs +crossed, looking up at her intently. + +"I like that name," he observed. "I like it better than any girl's name +I know. Do be good-natured and sit down." And he patted the ground +close beside him. + +Shy laughed again. The laugh had in it an exquisite note of shyness, +which he liked. + +"Why do you want me to sit down?" she asked suddenly. + +"Because I want to talk to you." + +"Can't you talk to me standing up?" + +"I suppose I could," said Bob, "but--I shouldn't be able to say such nice +things to you." + +The corners of her mouth trembled a little. + +"And whose loss would that be?" she asked. + +Bob Worthington was surprised at this retort, and correspondingly +delighted. He had not expected it in a country storekeeper's daughter, +and he stared at Cynthia so frankly that she blushed again, and turned +away. He was a young man who, it may be surmised, had had some +experience with the other sex at Andover and elsewhere. He had not spent +all of his life in Brampton. + +"I've often thought of you since that day when you wouldn't take the +whistle," he declared. "What are you laughing at?" + +"I'm laughing at you," said Cynthia, leaning against the tree, with her +hands behind her. + +"You've been laughing at me ever since you've stood there," he said, +aggrieved that his declarations should not betaken more seriously. + +"What have you thought about me?" she demanded. She was really beginning +to enjoy this episode. + +"Well--" he began, and hesitated--and broke down and laughed--Cynthia +laughed with him. + +"I can tell you what I didn't think," said Bob. + +"What?" asked Cynthia, falling into the trap. + +"I didn't think you'd be so--so good-looking," said he, quite boldly. + +"And I didn't think you'd be so rude," responded Cynthia. But though she +blushed again, she was not exactly displeased. + +"What are you going to do this afternoon?" he asked. "Let's go for a +walk." + +"I'm going back to Coniston." + +"Let's go for a walk now," said he, springing to his feet. "Come on." + +Cynthia looked at him and shook her head smilingly. + +"Here's Uncle Jethro--" + +"Uncle Jethro!" exclaimed Bob, "is he your uncle?" + +"Oh, no, not really. But he's just the same. He's very good to me." + +"I wonder whether he'd mind if I called him Uncle Jethro, too," said Bob, +and Cynthia laughed at the notion. This young man was certainly very +comical, and very frank. "Good-by," he said; "I'll come to see you some +day in Coniston." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +That evening, after Cynthia had gone to bed, William Wetherell sat down +at Jonah Winch's desk in the rear of the store to gaze at a blank sheet +of paper until the Muses chose to send him subject matter for his weekly +letter to the Guardian. The window was open, and the cool airs from the +mountain spruces mingled with the odors of corn meal and kerosene and +calico print. Jethro Bass, who had supped with the storekeeper, sat in +the wooden armchair silent, with his head bent. Sometimes he would sit +there by the hour while Wetherell wrote or read, and take his departure +when he was so moved without saying good night. Presently Jethro lifted +his chin, and dropped it again; there was a sound of wheels without, and, +after an interval, a knock at the door. + +William Wetherell dropped his pen with a start of surprise, as it was +late for a visitor in Coniston. He glanced at Jethro, who did not move, +and then he went to the door and shot back the great forged bolt of it, +and stared out. On the edge of the porch stood a tallish man in a +double-breasted frock coat. + +"Mr. Worthington!" exclaimed the storekeeper. + +Mr. Worthington coughed and pulled at one of his mutton-chop whiskers, +and seemed about to step off the porch again. It was, indeed, the first +citizen and reformer of Brampton. No wonder William Wetherell was +mystified. + +"Can I do anything for you?" he asked. "Have you missed your way?" + +Wetherell thought he heard him muttering, "No, no," and then he was +startled by another voice in his ear. It was Jethro who was standing +beside him. + +"G-guess he hain't missed his way a great deal. Er--come in--come in." + +Mr. Worthington took a couple of steps forward. + +"I understood that you were to be alone," he remarked, addressing Jethro +with an attempted severity of manner. + +"Didn't say so--d-didn't say so, did I?" answered Jethro. + +"Very well," said Mr. Worthington, "any other time will do for this +little matter." + +"Er--good night," said Jethro, shortly, and there was the suspicion of a +gleam in his eye as Mr. Worthington turned away. The mill-owner, in +fact, did not get any farther than the edge of the porch before he +wheeled again. + +"The affair which I have to discuss with you is of a private nature, Mr. +Bass," he said. + +"So I callated," said Jethro. + +"You may have the place to yourselves, gentlemen," Wetherell put in +uneasily, and then Mr. Worthington came as far as the door, where he +stood looking at the storekeeper with scant friendliness. Jethro turned +to Wetherell. + +"You a politician, Will?" he demanded. + +"No," said Wetherell. + +"You a business man?" + +"No," he said again. + +"You ever tell folks what you hear other people say?" + +"Certainly not," the storekeeper answered; "I'm not interested in other +people's business." + +"Exactly," said Jethro. "Guess you'd better stay." + +"But I don't care to stay," Wetherell objected. + +"Stay to oblige me--stay to oblige me?" he asked. + +"Well, yes, if you put it that way," Wetherell said, beginning to get +some amusement out of the situation. + +He did not know what Jethro's object was in this matter; perhaps others +may guess. + +Mr. Worthington, who had stood by with ill-disguised impatience during +this colloquy, note broke in. + +"It is most unusual, Mr. Bass, to have a third person present at a +conference in which he has no manner of concern. I think on the whole, +since you have insisted upon my coming to you--" + +"H-hain't insisted that I know of," said Jethro. + +"Well," said Mr. Worthington, "never mind that. + +"Perhaps it would be better for me to come to you some other time, when +you are alone." + +In the meantime Wetherell had shut the door, and they had gradually +walked to the rear of the store. Jethro parted his coat tails, and sat +down again in the armchair. Wetherell, not wishing to be intrusive, went +to his desk again, leaving the first citizen standing among the barrels. + +"W-what other time?" Jethro asked. + +"Any other time," said Mr. Worthington. + +"What other time?" + +"To-morrow night?" suggested Mr. Worthington, striving to hide his +annoyance. + +"B-busy to-morrow night," said Jethro. + +"You know that what I have to talk to you about is of the utmost +importance," said Worthington. "Let us say Saturday night." + +"B-busy Saturday night," said Jethro. "Meet you to-morrow." + +"What time?" + +"Noon," said Jethro, "noon." + +"Where?" asked Mr. Worthington, dubiously. + +"Band stand in Brampton Street," said Jethro, and the storekeeper was +fain to bend over his desk to conceal his laughter, busying himself with +his books. Mr. Worthington sat down with as much dignity as he could +muster on one of Jonah's old chairs, and Jonah Winch's clock ticked and +ticked, and Wetherell's pen scratched and scratched on his weekly letter +to Mr. Willard, although he knew that he was writing the sheerest +nonsense. As a matter of fact, he tore up the sheets the next morning +without reading them. Mr. Worthington unbuttoned his coat, fumbled in +his pocket, and pulled out two cigars, one of which he pushed toward +Jethro, who shook his head. Mr. Worthington lighted his cigar and +cleared his throat. + +"Perhaps you have observed, Mr. Bass," he said, "that this is a rapidly +growing section of the state--that the people hereabouts are every day +demanding modern and efficient means of communication with the outside +world." + +"Struck you as a mill owner, has it?" said Jethro. + +"I do not care to emphasize my private interests," answered Mr. +Worthington, at last appearing to get into his stride again. "I wish to +put the matter on broader grounds. Men like you and me ought not to be +so much concerned with our own affairs as with those of the population +amongst whom we live. And I think I am justified in putting it to you on +these grounds." + +"H-have to be justified, do you--have to be justified?" Jethro inquired. +"Er--why?" + +This was a poser, and for a moment he stared at Jethro, blankly, until he +decided how to take it. Then he crossed his legs and blew smoke toward +the ceiling. + +"It is certainly fairer to everybody to take the broadest view of a +situation," he remarked; "I am trying to regard this from the aspect of a +citizen, and I am quite sure that it will appeal to you in the same +light. If the spirit which imbued the founders of this nation means +anything, Mr. Bass, it means that the able men who are given a chance to +rise by their own efforts must still retain the duties and +responsibilities of the humblest citizens. That, I take it, is our +position, Mr. Bass,--yours and mine." + +Mr. Worthington had uncrossed his legs, and was now by the inspiration of +his words impelled to an upright position. Suddenly he glanced at +Jethro, and started for Jethro had sunk down on the small of his back, +his chin on his chest, in an attitude of lassitude if not of oblivion. +There was a silence perhaps a little disconcerting for Mr. Worthington, +who chose the opportunity to relight his cigar. + +"G-got through?" said Jethro, without moving, "g-got through?" + +"Through?" echoed Mr. Worthington, "through what?" + +"T-through Sunday-school," said Jethro. + +Worthington dropped his match and stamped on it, and Wetherell began to +wonder how much the man would stand. It suddenly came over the +storekeeper that the predicament in which Mr. Worthington found himself +whatever it was--must be a very desperate one. He half rose in his +chair, sat down again, and lighted another match. + +"Er--director in the Truro Road, hain't you, Mr. Worthington?" asked +Jethro, without looking at him. + +"Yes." + +"Er--principal stockholder--ain't you?" + +"Yes--but that is neither here nor there, sir." + +"Road don't pay--r-road don't pay, does it?" + +"It certainly does not." + +"W-would pay if it went to Brampton and Harwich?" + +"Mr. Bass, the company consider that they are pledged to the people of +this section to get the road through. I am not prepared to say whether +the road would pay, but it is quite likely that it would not." + +"Ch-charitable organization?" said Jethro, from the depths of his chair. + +"The pioneers in such matters take enormous risks for the benefit of the +community, sir. We believe that we are entitled to a franchise, and in +my opinion the General Court are behaving disgracefully in refusing us +one. I will not say all I think about that affair, Mr. Bass. I am +convinced that influences are at work--" He broke off with a catch in his +throat. + +"T-tried to get a franchise, did you?" + +"I am not here to quibble with you, Mr. Bass. We tried to get it by +every legitimate means, and failed, and you know it as well as I do." + +"Er--Heth Sutton didn't sign his receipt--er--did he?" + +The storekeeper, not being a politician, was not aware that the somewhat +obscure reference of Jethro's to the Speaker of the House concerned an +application which Mr. Worthington was supposed to have made to that +gentleman, who had at length acknowledged his inability to oblige, and +had advised Mr. Worthington to go to headquarters. And Mr. Stephen +Merrill, who had come to Brampton out of the kindness of his heart, had +only arranged this meeting in a conversation with Jethro that day, after +the reform speech. + +Mr. Worthington sprang to his feet, and flung out a hand toward Jethro. + +"Prove your insinuations, air," he cried; "I defy you to prove your +insinuations." + +But Jethro still sat unmoved. + +"H-Heth in the charitable organization, too?" he asked. + +"People told me I was a fool to believe in honesty, but I thought better +of the lawmakers of my state. I'll tell you plainly what they said to +me, sir. They said, 'Go to Jethro Bass.'" + +"Well, so you have, hain't you? So you have." + +"Yes, I have. I've come to appeal to you in behalf of the people of your +section to allow that franchise to go through the present Legislature." + +"Er--come to appeal, have you--come to appeal?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Worthington, sitting down again; "I have come to-night to +appeal to you in the name of the farmers and merchants of this region-- +your neighbors,--to use your influence to get that franchise. I have +come to you with the conviction that I shall not have appealed in vain." + +"Er--appealed to Heth in the name of the farmers and merchants?" + +"Mr. Sutton is Speaker of the House." + +"F-farmers and merchants elected him," remarked Jethro, as though stating +a fact. + +Worthington coughed. + +"It is probable that I made a mistake in going to Sutton," he admitted. + +"If I w-wanted to catch a pike, w-wouldn't use a pin-hook." + +"I might have known," remarked Worthington, after a pause, "that Sutton +could not have been elected Speaker without your influence." + +Jethro did not answer that, but still remained sunk in his chair. To all +appearances he might have been asleep. + +"W-worth somethin' to the farmers and merchants to get that road through- +-w-worth somethin', ain't it?" + +Wetherell held his breath. For a moment Mr. Worthington sat very still, +his face drawn, and then he wet his lips and rose slowly. + +"We may as well end this conversation, Mr. Bass," he said, and though he +tried to speak firmly his voice shook, "it seems to be useless. Good +night." + +He picked up his hat and walked slowly toward the door, but Jethro did +not move or speak. Mr. Worthington reached the door opened it, and the +night breeze started the lamp to smoking. Wetherell got up and turned it +down, and the first citizen was still standing in the doorway. His back +was toward them, but the fingers of his left hand--working convulsively +caught Wetherell's eye and held it; save for the ticking of the clock and +the chirping of the crickets in the grass, there was silence. Then Mr. +Worthington closed the door softly, hesitated, turned, and came back and +stood before Jethro. + +"Mr. Bass," he said," we've got to have that franchise." + +William Wetherell glanced at the countryman who, without moving in his +chair, without raising his voice, had brought the first citizen of +Brampton to his knees. The thing frightened the storekeeper, revolted +him, and yet its drama held him fascinated. By some subtle process which +he had actually beheld, but could not fathom, this cold Mr. Worthington, +this bank president who had given him sage advice, this preacher of +political purity, had been reduced to a frenzied supplicant. He stood +bending over Jethro. + +"What's your price? Name it, for God's sake." + +"B-better wait till you get the bill--hadn't you? b-better wait till you +get the bill." + +"Will you put the franchise through?" + +"Goin' down to the capital soon?" Jethro inquired. + +"I'm going down on Thursday." + +"B-better come in and see me," said Jethro. + +"Very well," answered Mr. Worthington; "I'll be in at two o'clock on +Thursday." And then, without another word to either of them, he swung on +his heel and strode quickly out of the store. Jethro did not move. + +William Wetherell's hand was trembling so that he could not write, and he +could not trust his voice to speak. Although Jethro had never mentioned +Isaac Worthington's name to him, Wetherell knew that Jethro hated the +first citizen of Brampton. + +At length, when the sound of the wheels had died away, Jethro broke the +silence. + +"Er--didn't laugh--did he, Will? Didn't laugh once--did he?" + +"Laugh!" echoed the storekeeper, who himself had never been further from +laughter in his life. + +"M-might have let him off easier if he'd laughed," said Jethro, "if he'd +laughed just once, m-might have let him off easier." + +And with this remark he went out of the store and left Wetherell alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +The weekly letter to the Newcastle Guardian was not finished that night, +but Coniston slept, peacefully, unaware of Mr. Worthington's visit; and +never, indeed, discovered it, since the historian for various reasons of +his own did not see fit to insert the event in his plan of the Town +History. Before another sun had set Jethro Bass had departed for the +state capital, not choosing to remain to superintend the haying of the +many farms which had fallen into his hand,--a most unusual omission for +him. + +Presently rumors of a mighty issue about the Truro Railroad began to be +discussed by the politicians at the Coniston store, and Jake Wheeler held +himself in instant readiness to answer a summons to the capital--which +never came. + +Delegations from Brampton and Harwich went to petition the Legislature +for the franchise, and the Brampton Clarion and Harwich Sentinel declared +that the people of Truro County recognized in Isaac Worthington a great +and public-spirited man, who ought by all means to be the next governor-- +if the franchise went through. + +One evening Lem Hallowell, after depositing a box of trimmings at Ephraim +Prescott's harness shop, drove up to the platform of the store with the +remark that "things were gittin' pretty hot down to the capital in that +franchise fight." + +"Hain't you b'en sent for yet, Jake?" he cried, throwing his reins over +the backs of his sweating Morgans; "well, that's strange. Guess the +fight hain't as hot as we hear about. Jethro hain't had to call out his +best men." + +"I'm a-goin' down if there's trouble," declared Jake, who consistently +ignored banter. + +"Better git up and git," said Lem; "there's three out of the five +railroads against Truro, and Steve Merrill layin' low. Bije Bixby's down +there, and Heth Sutton, and Abner Parkinson, and all the big bugs. +Better get aboard, Jake." + +At this moment the discussion was interrupted by the sight of Cynthia +Wetherell coming across the green with an open letter in her hand. + +"It's a message from Uncle Jethro," she said. + +The announcement was sufficient to warrant the sensation it produced on +all sides. + +"'Tain't a letter from Jethro, is it?" exclaimed Sam Price, overcome by a +pardonable curiosity. For it was well known that one of Jethro's fixed +principles in life was embodied in his own motto, "Don't write--send." + +"It's very funny," answered Cynthia, looking down at the paper with a +puzzled expression. "'Dear Cynthia: Judge Bass wished me to say to you +that he would be pleased if you and Will would come to the capital and +spend a week with him at the Pelican House, and see the sights. The +judge says Rias Richardson will tend store. Yours truly, P. Hartington.' +That's all," said Cynthia, looking up. + +For a moment you could have heard a pine needle drop on the stoop. Then +Rias thrust his hands in his pockets and voiced the general sentiment. + +"Well, I'll be--goldurned!" said he. + +"Didn't say nothin' about Jake?" queried Lem. + +"No," answered Cynthia, "that's all--except two pieces of cardboard with +something about the Truro Railroad and our names. I don't know what they +are." And she took them from the envelope. + +"Guess I could tell you if I was pressed," said Lem, amid a shout of +merriment from the group. + +"Air you goin', Will?" said Sam Price, pausing with his foot on the step +of his buggy, that he might have the complete news before he left. + +"Godfrey, Will," exclaimed Rigs, breathlessly, "you hain't a-goin' to +throw up a chance to stay a hull week at the Pelican, be you?" The mere +possibility of refusal overpowered Rias. + +Those who are familiar with that delightful French song which treats of +the leave-taking of one Monsieur Dumollet will appreciate, perhaps, the +attentions which were showered upon William Wetherell and Cynthia upon +their departure for the capital next morning. Although Mr. Wetherell had +at one time been actually a resident of Boston, he received quite as many +cautions from his neighbors as Monsieur Dumollet. Billets doux and +pistols were, of course, not mentioned, but it certainly behooved him, +when he should have arrived at that place of intrigues, to be on the +lookout for cabals. + +They took the stage-coach from Brampton over the pass: picturesque stage- +coach with its apple-green body and leather springs, soon to be laid away +forever if the coveted Truro Franchise Bill becomes a law; stage-coach +which pulls up defiantly beside its own rival at Truro station, where our +passengers take the train down the pleasant waterways and past the little +white villages among the fruit trees to the capital. The thrill of +anticipation was in Cynthia's blood, and the flush of pleasure on her +cheeks, when they stopped at last under the sheds. The conductor snapped +his fingers and cried, "This way, Judge," and there was Jethro in his +swallow-tailed coat and stove-pipe hat awaiting them. He seized +Wetherell's carpet-bag with one hand and Cynthia's arm with the other, +and shouldered his way through the people, who parted when they saw who +it was. + +"Uncle Jethro," cried Cynthia, breathlessly, "I didn't know you were a +judge. What are you judge of?" + +"J-judge of clothes, Cynthy. D-don't you wish you had the red cloth to +wear here?" + +"No, I don't," said Cynthia. "I'm glad enough to be here without it." + +"G-glad to hev you in any fixin's, Cynthy," he said, giving her arm a +little squeeze, and by that time they were up the hill and William +Wetherell quite winded. For Jethro was strong as an ox, and Cynthia's +muscles were like an Indian's. + +They were among the glories of Main Street now. The capital was then, +and still remains, a typically beautiful New England city, with wide +streets shaded by shapely maples and elms, with substantial homes set +back amidst lawns and gardens. Here on Main Street were neat brick +business buildings and banks and shops, with the park-like grounds of the +Capitol farther on, and everywhere, from curb to doorway, were knots of +men talking politics; broad-faced, sunburned farmers in store clothes, +with beards that hid their shirt fronts; keen-featured, sallow, country +lawyers in long black coats crumpled from much sitting on the small of +the back; country storekeepers with shrewd eyes, and local proprietors +and manufacturers. + +"Uncle Jethro, I didn't know you were such a great man," she said. + +"H-how did ye find out, Cynthy?" + +"The way people treat you here. I knew you were great, of course," she +hastened to add. + +"H-how do they treat me?" he asked, looking down at her. + +"You know," she answered. "They all stop talking when you come along and +stare at you. But why don't you speak to them?" + +Jethro smiled and squeezed her arm again, and then they were in the +corridor of the famous Pelican Hotel, hazy with cigar smoke and filled +with politicians. Some were standing, hanging on to pillars, +gesticulating, some were ranged in benches along the wall, and a chosen +few were in chairs grouped around the spittoons. Upon the appearance of +Jethro's party, the talk was hushed, the groups gave way, and they +accomplished a kind of triumphal march to the desk. The clerk, descrying +them, desisted abruptly from a conversation across the cigar counter, and +with all the form of a ceremony dipped the pen with a flourish into the +ink and handed it to Jethro. + +"Your rooms are ready, Judge," he said. + +As they started for the stairs, Jethro and Cynthia leading the way, +Wetherell felt a touch on his elbow and turned to confront Mr. Bijah +Bixby--at very close range, as usual. + +"C-come down at last, Will?" he said. "Thought ye would. Need everybody +this time--you understand." + +"I came on pleasure," retorted Mr. Wetherell, somewhat angrily. + +Mr. Bixby appeared hugely to enjoy the joke. + +"So I callated," he cried, still holding Wetherell's hand in a mild, but +persuasive grip. "So I callated. Guess I done you an injustice, Will." + +"How's that?" + +"You're a leetle mite smarter than I thought you was. So long. Got a +leetle business now--you understand a leetle business." + +Was it possible, indeed, for the simple-minded to come to the capital and +not become involved in cabals? With some misgivings William Wetherell +watched Mr. Bixby disappear among the throng, kicking up his heels +behind, and then went upstairs. On the first floor Cynthia was standing +by an open door. + +"Dad," she cried, "come and see the rooms Uncle Jethro's got for us!" +She took Wetherell's hand and led him in. "See the lace curtains, and +the chandelier, and the big bureau with the marble top." + +Jethro had parted his coat tails and seated himself enjoyably on the bed. + +"D-don't come often," he said, "m-might as well have the best." + +"Jethro," said Wetherell, coughing nervously and fumbling in the pocket +of his coat, "you've been very kind to us, and we hardly know how to +thank you. I--I didn't have any use for these." + +He held out the pieces of cardboard which had come in Cynthia's letter. +He dared not look at Jethro, and his eye was fixed instead upon the +somewhat grandiose signature of Isaac D. Worthington, which they bore. +Jethro took them and tore them up, and slowly tossed the pieces into a +cuspidor conveniently situated near the foot of the bed. He rose and +thrust his hands into his pockets. + +"Er--when you get freshened up, come into Number 7," he said. + +Number 7! But we shall come to that later. Supper first, in a great +pillared dining room filled with notables, if we only had the key. +Jethro sits silent at the head of the table eating his crackers and milk, +with Cynthia on his left and William Wetherell on his right. Poor +William, greatly embarrassed by his sudden projection into the limelight, +is helpless in the clutches of a lady-waitress who is demanding somewhat +fiercely that he make an immediate choice from a list of dishes which she +is shooting at him with astonishing rapidity. But who is this, sitting +beside him, who comes to William's rescue, and demands that the lady +repeat the bill of fare? Surely a notable, for he has a generous +presence, and jet-black whiskers which catch the light, which give the +gentleman, as Mr. Bixby remarked, "quite a settin'." Yes, we have met +him at last. It is none other than the Honorable Heth Sutton, Rajah of +Clovelly, Speaker of the House, who has condescended to help Mr. +Wetherell. + +His chamberlain, Mr. Bijah Bixby, sits on the other side of the Honorable +Heth, and performs the presentation of Mr. Wetherell. But Mr. Sutton, as +becomes a man of high position, says little after he has rebuked the +waitress, and presently departs with a carefully chosen toothpick; +whereupon Mr. Bixby moves into the vacant seat--not to Mr. Wetherell's +unqualified delight. + +"I've knowed him ever sense we was boys," said Mr. Bixby; "you saw how +intimate we was. When he wants a thing done, he says, 'Bije, you go out +and get 'em.' Never counts the cost. He was nice to you--wahn't he, +Will?" And then Mr. Bixby leaned over and whispered in Mr. Wetherell's +ear; "He knows--you understand--he knows." + +"Knows what?" demanded Mr. Wetherell. + +Mr. Bixby gave him another admiring look. + +"Knows you didn't come down here with Jethro jest to see the sights." + +At this instant the talk in the dining room fell flat, and looking up +William Wetherell perceived a portly, rubicund man of middle age being +shown to his seat by the headwaiter. The gentleman wore a great, +glittering diamond in his shirt, and a watch chain that contained much +fine gold. But the real cause of the silence was plainly in the young +woman who walked beside him, and whose effective entrance argued no +little practice and experience. She was of a type that catches the eye +involuntarily and holds it,--tall, well-rounded, fresh-complexioned, with +heavy coils of shimmering gold hair. Her pawn, which was far from +unbecoming, was in keeping with those gifts with which nature had endowed +her. She carried her head high, and bestowed swift and evidently fatal +glances to right and left during her progress through the room. Mr. +Bixby's voice roused the storekeeper from this contemplation of the +beauty. + +"That's Alvy Hopkins of Gosport and his daughter. Fine gal, hain't she? +Ever sense she come down here t'other day she's stirred up more turmoil +than any railroad bill I ever seed. She was most suffocated at the +governor's ball with fellers tryin' to get dances--some of 'em old +fellers, too. And you understand about Alvy?" + +"What about him?" + +"Alvy says he's a-goin' to be the next governor, or fail up." Mr. +Bixby's voice sank to a whisper, and he spoke into Mr. Wetherell's ear. +"Alvy says he has twenty-five thousand dollars to put in if necessary. +I'll introduce you to him, Will," he added meaningly. "Guess you can +help him some--you understand?" + +"Mr. Bixby!" cried Mr. Wetherell, putting down his knife and fork. + +"There!" said Mr. Bixby, reassuringly; "'twon't be no bother. I know him +as well as I do you--call each other by our given names. Guess I was the +first man he sent for last spring. He knows I go through all them river +towns. He says, 'Bije, you get 'em.' I understood." + +William Wetherell began to realize the futility of trying to convince Mr. +Bixby of his innocence in political matters, and glanced at Jethro. + +"You wouldn't think he was listenin', would you, Will?" Mr. Bixby +remarked. + +"Listening?" + +"Ears are sharp as a dog's. Callate he kin hear as far as the governor's +table, and he don't look as if he knows anything. One way he built up +his power--listenin' when they're talkin' sly out there in the rotunda. +They're almighty surprised when they l'arn he knows what they're up to. +Guess you understand how to go along by quiet and listen when they're +talkin' sly." + +"I never did such a thing in my life," cried William Wetherell, +indignantly aghast. + +But Mr. Bixby winked. + +"So long, Will," he said, "see you in Number 7." + +Never, since the days of Pompadour and Du Barry, until modern American +politics were invented, has a state been ruled from such a place as +Number 7 in the Pelican House--familiarly known as the Throne Room. In +this historic cabinet there were five chairs, a marble-topped table, a +pitcher of iced water, a bureau, a box of cigars and a Bible, a +chandelier with all the gas jets burning, and a bed, whereon sat such +dignitaries as obtained an audience,--railroad presidents, governors and +ex-governors and prospective governors, the Speaker, the President of the +Senate, Bijah Bixby, Peleg Hartington, mighty chiefs from the North +Country, and lieutenants from other parts of the state. These sat on the +bed by preference. Jethro sat in a chair by the window, and never took +any part in the discussions that raged, but listened. Generally there +was some one seated beside him who talked persistently in his ear; as at +present, for instance, Mr. Chauncey Weed, Chairman of the Committee on +Corporations of the House, who took the additional precaution of putting +his hand to his mouth when he spoke. + +Mr. Stephen Merrill was in the Throne Room that evening, and +confidentially explained to the bewildered William Wetherell the exact +situation in the Truro Franchise fight. Inasmuch as it has become our +duty to describe this celebrated conflict,--in a popular and engaging +manner, if possible,--we shall have to do so through Mr. Wetherell's +eyes, and on his responsibility. The biographies of some of the +gentlemen concerned have since been published, and for some unaccountable +reason contain no mention of the Truro franchise. + +"All Gaul," said Mr. Merrill--he was speaking to a literary man--"all +Gaul is divided into five railroads. I am one, the Grand Gulf and +Northern, the impecunious one. That is the reason I'm so nice to +everybody, Mr. Wetherell. The other day a conductor on my road had a +shock of paralysis when a man paid his fare. Then there's Batch, +president of the 'Down East' road, as we call it. Batch and I are out of +this fight,--we don't care whether Isaac D. Worthington gets his +franchise or not, or I wouldn't be telling you this. The two railroads +which don't want him to get it, because the Truro would eventually become +a competitor with them, are the Central and the Northwestern. Alexander +Duncan is president of the Central." + +"Alexander Duncan!" exclaimed Wetherell. "He's the richest man in the +state, isn't he?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Merrill, "and he lives in a big square house right here +in the capital. He ain't a bad fellow, Duncan. You'd like him. He +loves books. I wish you could see his library." + +"I'm afraid there's not much chance of that," answered Wetherell. + +"Well, as I say, there's Duncan, of the Central, and the other is +Lovejoy, of the Northwestern. Lovejoy's a bachelor and a skinflint. +Those two, Duncan and Lovejoy, are using every means in their power to +prevent Worthington from getting that franchise. Have I made myself +clear?" + +"Do you think Mr. Worthington will get it?" asked Wetherell, who had in +mind a certain nocturnal visit at his store. + +Mr. Merrill almost leaped out of his chair at the question. Then he +mopped his face, and winked very deliberately at the storekeeper. Then +Mr. Merrill laughed. + +"Well, well," he said, "for a man who comes down here to stay with Jethro +Bass to ask me that!" Whereupon Mr. Wetherell flushed, and began to +perspire himself. "Didn't you hear Isaac D. Worthington's virtuous +appeal to the people at Brampton?" said Mr. Merrill. + +"Yes," replied Wetherell, getting redder. + +"I like you, Will," said Mr. Merrill, unexpectedly, "darned if I don't. +I'll tell you what I know about it, and you can have a little fun while +you're here, lookin' on, only it won't do to write about it to the +Newcastle Guardian. Guess Willard wouldn't publish it, anyhow. I +suppose you know that Jethro pulls the strings, end we little railroad +presidents dance. We're the puppets now, but after a while, when I'm +crowded out, all these little railroads will get together and there'll be +a row worth looking at, or I'm mistaken. But to go back to Worthington," +continued Mr. Merrill, "he made a little mistake with his bill in the +beginning. Instead of going to Jethro, he went to Heth Sutton, and Heth +got the bill as far as the Committee on Corporations, and there she's +been ever since, with our friend Chauncey Weed, who's whispering over +there." + +"Mr. Sutton couldn't even get it out of the Committee!" exclaimed +Wetherell. + +"Not an inch. Jethro saw this thing coming about a year ago, and he took +the precaution to have Chauncey Weed and the rest of the Committee in his +pocket--and of course Heth Sutton's always been there." + +William Wetherell thought of that imposing and manly personage, the +Honorable Heth Sutton, being in Jethro's pocket, and marvelled. Mr. +Chauncey Weed seemed of a species better able to thrive in the atmosphere +of pockets. + +"Well, as I say, there was the Truro Franchise Bill sound asleep in the +Committee, and when Isaac D. Worthington saw that his little arrangement +with Heth Sutton wasn't any good, and that the people of the state didn't +have anything more to say about it than the Crow Indians, and that the +end of the session was getting nearer and nearer, he got desperate and +went to Jethro, I suppose. You know as well as I do that Jethro has +agreed to put the bill through." + +"Then why doesn't he get the Committee to report it and put it through?" +asked Wetherell. + +"Bless your simple literary nature," exclaimed Mr Merrill, "Jethro's got +more power than any man in the state, but that isn't saying that he +doesn't have to fight occasionally. He has to fight now. He has seven +of the twelve senators hitched, and the governor. But Duncan and Lovejoy +have bought up all the loose blocks of representatives, and it is +supposed that the franchise forces only control a quorum. The end of the +session is a week off, and never in all my experience have I seen a more +praiseworthy attendance on the part of members." + +"Do you mean that they are being paid to remain in their seats?" cried +the amazed Mr. Wetherell. + +"Well," answered Mr. Merrill, with a twinkle in his eye, "that is a +little bald and--and unparliamentary, perhaps, but fairly accurate. Our +friend Jethro is confronted with a problem to tax even his faculties, and +to look at him, a man wouldn't suspect he had a care in the world." + +Jethro was apparently quite as free from anxiety the next morning when he +offered, after breakfast, to show Wetherell and Cynthia the sights of the +town, though Wetherell could not but think that the Throne Room and the +Truro Franchise Bill were left at a very crucial moment to take care of +themselves. Jethro talked to Cynthia--or rather, Cynthia talked to +Jethro upon innumerable subject's; they looked upon the statue of a great +statesman in the park, and Cynthia read aloud the quotation graven on the +rock of the pedestal, "The People's Government, made for the People, made +by the People, and answerable to the People." After that they went into +the state library, where Wetherell was introduced to the librarian, Mr. +Storrow. They did not go into the State House because, as everybody +knows, Jethro Bass never went there. Mr. Bijah Bixby and other +lieutenants might be seen in the lobbies, and the governor might sign +bills in his own apartment there, but the real seat of government was +that Throne Room into which we have been permitted to enter. + +They walked out beyond the outskirts of the town, where there was a grove +or picnic ground which was also used as a park by some of the +inhabitants. Jethro liked the spot, and was in the habit sometimes of +taking refuge there when the atmosphere of the Pelican House became too +thick. The three of them had sat down on one of the board benches to +rest, when presently two people were seen at a little distance walking +among the trees, and the sight of them, for some reason, seemed to give +Jethro infinite pleasure. + +"Why," exclaimed Cynthia," one of them is that horrid girl everybody was +looking at in the dining room last night." + +"D-don't like her, Cynthy?" said Jethro. + +"No," said Cynthia, "I don't." + +"Pretty--hain't she--pretty?" + +"She's brazen," declared Cynthia. + +It was, indeed, Miss Cassandra Hopkins, daughter of that Honorable Alva +who--according to Mr. Bixby was all ready with a certain sum of money to +be the next governor. Miss Cassandra was arrayed fluffily in cool, pink +lawn, and she carried a fringed parasol, and she was gazing upward with +telling effect into the face of the gentleman by her side. This would +have all been very romantic if the gentleman had been young and handsome, +but he was certainly not a man to sweep a young girl off her feet. He +was tall, angular, though broad-shouldered, with a long, scrawny neck +that rose out of a very low collar, and a large head, scantily covered +with hair--a head that gave a physical as well as a mental effect of +hardness. His smooth-shaven face seemed to bear witness that its owner +was one who had pushed frugality to the borders of a vice. It was not a +pleasant face, but now it wore an almost benign expression under the +influence of Miss Cassandra's eyes. So intent, apparently, were both of +them upon each other that they did not notice the group on the bench at +the other side of the grove. William Wetherell ventured to ask Jethro +who the man was. + +"N-name's Lovejoy," said Jethro. + +"Lovejoy!" ejaculated the storekeeper, thinking of what Mr. Merrill had +told him of the opponents of the Truro Franchise Bill. "President of the +'Northwestern' Railroad?" + +Jethro gave his friend a shrewd look. + +"G-gettin' posted--hain't you, Will?" he said. + +"Is she going to marry that old man?" asked Cynthia. + +Jethro smiled a little. "G-guess not," said he, "g-guess not, if the old +man can help it. Nobody's married him yet, and hain't likely to." + +Jethro was unusually silent on the way back to the hotel, but he did not +seem to be worried or displeased. He only broke his silence once, in +fact, when Cynthia called his attention to a large poster of some +bloodhounds on a fence, announcing the fact in red letters that "Uncle +Tom's Cabin" would be given by a certain travelling company at the Opera +House the next evening. + +"L-like to go, Cynthy?" + +"Oh, Uncle Jethro, do you think we can go?" + +"Never b'en to a show--hev you--never b'en to a show?" + +"Never in my life," said Cynthia. + +"We'll all go," said Jethro, and he repeated it once or twice as they +came to Main Street, seemingly greatly tickled at the prospect. And +there was the Truro Franchise Bill hanging over him, with only a week +left of the session, and Lovejoy's and Duncan's men sitting so tight in +their seats! William Wetherell could not understand it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Half an hour later, when Mr. Wetherell knocked timidly at Number 7,-- +drawn thither by an irresistible curiosity,--the door was opened by a +portly person who wore a shining silk hat and ample gold watch chain. +The gentleman had, in fact, just arrived; but he seemed perfectly at home +as he laid down his hat on the marble-topped bureau, mopped his face, +took a glass of iced water at a gulp, chose a cigar, and sank down +gradually on the bed. Mr. Wetherell recognized him instantly as the +father of the celebrated Cassandra. + +"Well, Jethro," said the gentleman, "I've got to come into the Throne +Room once a day anyhow, just to make sure you don't forget me--eh?" + +"A-Alvy," said Jethro, "I want you to shake hands with a particular +friend of mine, Mr. Will Wetherell of Coniston. Er--Will, the Honorable +Alvy Hopkins of Gosport." + +Mr. Hopkins rose from the bed as gradually as he had sunk down upon it, +and seized Mr. Wetherell's hand impressively. His own was very moist. + +"Heard you was in town, Mr. Wetherell," he said heartily. "If Jethro +calls you a particular friend, it means something, I guess. It means +something to me, anyhow." + +"Will hain't a politician," said Jethro. "Er--Alvy?" + +"Hello!" said Mr. Hopkins. + +"Er--Will don't talk." + +"If Jethro had been real tactful," said the Honorable Alvy, sinking down +again, "he'd have introduced me as the next governor of the state. +Everybody knows I want to be governor, everybody knows I've got twenty +thousand dollars in the bank to pay for that privilege. Everybody knows +I'm going to be governor if Jethro says so." + +William Wetherell was a little taken aback at this ingenuous statement of +the gentleman from Gosport. He looked out of the window through the +foliage of the park, and his eye was caught by the monument there in +front of the State House, and he thought of the inscription on the base +of it, "The People's Government." The Honorable Alva had not mentioned +the people--undoubtedly. + +"Yes, Mr. Wetherell, twenty thousand dollars." He sighed. "Time was +when a man could be governor for ten. Those were the good old days--eh, +Jethro?" + +"A-Alvy, 'Uncle Tom's Cabin's' comin' to town tomorrow--to-morrow." + +"You don't tell me," said the Honorable Alva, acquiescing cheerfully in +the change of subject. "We'll go. Pleased to have you, too, Mr. +Wetherell." + +"Alvy," said Jethro, again, "'Uncle Tom's Cabin' comes to town to- +morrow." + +Mr. Hopkins stopped fanning himself, and glanced at Jethro questioningly. + +"A-Alvy, that give you an idea?" said Jethro, mildly. + +Mr. Wetherell looked blank: it gave him no idea whatsoever, except of +little Eva and the bloodhounds. For a few moments the Honorable Alva +appeared to be groping, too, and then his face began to crease into a +smile of comprehension. + +"By Godfrey, Jethro, but you are smart." he exclaimed, with involuntary +tribute; "you mean buy up the theatre?" + +"C-callate you'll find it's bought up." + +"You mean pay for it?" said Mr. Hopkins. + +"You've guessed it, Alvy, you've guessed it." + +Mr. Hopkins gazed at him in admiration, leaned out of the perpendicular, +and promptly drew from his trousers' pocket a roll of stupendous +proportions. Wetting his thumb, he began to push aside the top bills. + +"How much is it?" he demanded. + +But Jethro put up his hand. + +"No hurry, Alvy--n-no hurry. H-Honorable Alvy Hopkins of Gosport--p- +patron of the theatre. Hain't the first time you've b'en a patron, +Alvy." + +"Jethro," said Mr. Hopkins, solemnly, putting up his money, "I'm much +obliged to you. I'm free to say I'd never have thought of it. If you +ain't the all-firedest smartest man in America to-day,--I don't except +any, even General Grant,--then I ain't the next governor of this state." + +Whereupon he lapsed into an even more expressive silence, his face still +glowing. + +"Er--Alvy," said Jethro presently, "what's the name of your gal?" + +"Well," said Mr. Hopkins, "I guess you've got me. We did christen her +Lily, but she didn't turn out exactly Lily. She ain't the type," said +Mr. Hopkins, slowly, not without a note of regret, and lapsed into +silence. + +"W-what did you say her name was, Alvy?" + +"I guess her name's Cassandra," said the Honorable Alva. + +"C-Cassandry?" + +"Well, you see," he explained a trifle apologetically, "she's kind of +taken some matters in her own hands, my gal. Didn't like Lily, and it +didn't seem to fit her anyway, so she called herself Cassandra. Read it +in a book. It means, 'inspirer of love,' or some such poetry, but I +don't deny that it goes with her better than Lily would." + +"Sh-she's a good deal of a gal, Alvy--fine-appearin' gal, Alvy." + +"Upon my word, Jethro, I didn't know you ever looked at a woman. But I +suppose you couldn't help lookin' at my gal--she does seem to draw men's +eyes as if she was magnetized some way." Mr. Hopkins did not speak as +though this quality of his daughter gave him unmixed delight. "But she's +a good-hearted gal, Cassy is, high-spirited, and I won't deny she's +handsome and smart." + +She'll kind of grace my position when I'm governor. But to tell you the +truth, Jethro, one old friend to another, durned if I don't wish she was +married. It's a terrible thing for a father to say, I know, but I'd feel +easier about her if she was married to some good man who could hold her. +There's young Joe Turner in Gosport, he'd give his soul to have her, and +he'd do. Cassy says she's after bigger game than Joe. She's young-- +that's her only excuse. Funny thing happened night before last," +continued Mr. Hopkins, laughing. "Lovejoy saw her, and he's b'en out of +his head ever since. Al must be pretty near my age, ain't he? Well, +there's no fool like an old fool." + +"A-Alvy introduce me to Cassandry sometime will you?" + +"Why, certainly," answered Mr. Hopkins, heartily, "I'll bring her in +here. And now how about gettin' an adjournment to-morrow night for +'Uncle Tom's Cabin'? These night sessions kind of interfere." + +Half an hour later, when the representatives were pouring into the +rotunda for dinner, a crowd was pressing thickly around the desk to read +a placard pinned on the wall above it. The placard announced the coming +of Mr. Glover's Company for the following night, and that the Honorable +Alva Hopkins of Gosport, ex-Speaker of the House, had bought three +hundred and twelve seats for the benefit of the members. And the +Honorable Alva himself, very red in the face and almost smothered, could +be dimly discerned at the foot of the stairs trying to fight his way out +of a group of overenthusiastic friends and admirers. Alva--so it was +said on all sides--was doing the right thing. + +So it was that one sensation followed another at the capital, and the +politicians for the moment stopped buzzing over the Truro Franchise Bill +to discuss Mr. Hopkins and his master-stroke. The afternoon Chronicle +waxed enthusiastic on the subject of Mr. Hopkins's generosity, and +predicted that, when Senator Hartington made the motion in the upper +house and Mr. Jameson in the lower, the General Court would unanimously +agree that there would be no evening session on the following day. The +Honorable Alva was the hero of the hour. + +That afternoon Cynthia and her father walked through the green park to +make their first visit to the State House. They stood hand in hand on +the cool, marble-paved floor of the corridor, gazing silently at the +stained and battered battle-flags behind the glass, and Wetherell seemed +to be listening again to the appeal of a great President to a great +Country in the time of her dire need--the soul calling on the body to +fight for itself. Wetherell seemed to feel again the thrill he felt when +he saw the blue-clad men of this state crowded in the train at Boston: +and to hear again the cheers, and the sobs, and the prayers as he looked +upon the blood that stained stars and stripes alike with a holy stain. +With that blood the country had been consecrated, and the state--yes, and +the building where they stood. So they went on up the stairs, +reverently, nor heeded the noise of those in groups about them, and +through a door into the great hall of the representatives of the state. + +Life is a mixture of emotions, a jumble of joy and sorrow and reverence +and mirth and flippancy, of right feeling and heresy. In the morning +William Wetherell had laughed at Mr. Hopkins and the twenty thousand +dollars he had put in the bank to defraud the people; but now he could +have wept over it, and as he looked down upon the three hundred members +of that House, he wondered how many of them represented their neighbors +who supposedly had sent them here--and how many Mr. Lovejoy's railroad, +Mr. Worthington's railroad, or another man's railroad. + +But gradually he forgot the battle-flags, and his mood changed. Perhaps +the sight of Mr. Speaker Sutton towering above the House, the very +essence and bulk of authority, brought this about. He aroused in +Wetherell unwilling admiration and envy when he arose to put a question +in his deep voice, or rapped sternly with his gavel to silence the tumult +of voices that arose from time to time; or while some member was +speaking, or the clerk was reading a bill at breathless speed, he turned +with wonderful nonchalance to listen to the conversation of the gentlemen +on the bench beside him, smiled, nodded, pulled his whiskers, at once +conscious and unconscious of his high position. And, most remarkable of +all to the storekeeper, not a man of the three hundred, however obscure, +could rise that the Speaker did not instantly call him by name. + +William Wetherell was occupied by such reflections as these when suddenly +there fell a hush through the House. The clerk had stopped reading, the +Speaker had stopped conversing, and, seizing his gavel, looked +expectantly over the heads of the members and nodded. A sleek, +comfortably dressed mail arose smilingly in the middle of the House, and +subdued laughter rippled from seat to seat as he addressed the chair. + +"Mr. Jameson of Wantage." + +Mr. Jameson cleared his throat impressively and looked smilingly about +him. + +"Mr. Speaker and gentlemen of the House," he said, "if I desired to +arouse the enthusiasm--the just enthusiasm--of any gathering in this +House, or in this city, or in this state, I should mention the name of +the Honorable Alva Hopkins of Gosport. I think I am right." + +Mr. Jameson was interrupted, as he no doubt expected, by applause from +floor and gallery. He stood rubbing his hands together, and it seemed to +William Wetherell that the Speaker did not rap as sharply with his gavel +as he had upon other occasions. + +"Gentlemen of the House," continued Mr. Jameson, presently, "the +Honorable Alva Hopkins, whom we all know and love, has with unparalleled +generosity--unparalleled, I say--bought up three hundred and twelve seats +in Fosters Opera House for to-morrow night" (renewed applause), "in order +that every member of this august body may have the opportunity to witness +that most classic of histrionic productions, 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'." (Loud +applause, causing the Speaker to rap sharply.) "That we may show a +proper appreciation of this compliment--I move you, Mr. Speaker, that the +House adjourn not later than six o'clock to-morrow, Wednesday evening, +not to meet again until Thursday morning." + +Mr. Jameson of Wantage handed the resolution to a page and sat down +amidst renewed applause. Mr. Wetherell noticed that many members turned +in their seats as they clapped, and glancing along the gallery he caught +a flash of red and perceived the radiant Miss Cassandra herself leaning +over the rail, her hands clasped in ecstasy. Mr. Lovejoy was not with +her--he evidently preferred to pay his attentions in private. + +"There she is again," whispered Cynthia, who had taken an instinctive and +extraordinary dislike to Miss Cassandra. Then Mr. Sutton rose +majestically to put the question. + +"Gentlemen, are you ready for the question?" he cried. "All those in +favor of the resolution of the gentleman from Wantage, Mr. Jameson--" the +Speaker stopped abruptly. The legislators in the front seats swung +around, and people in the gallery craned forward to see a member standing +at his seat in the extreme rear of the hall. He was a little man in an +ill-fitting coat, his wizened face clean-shaven save for the broom-shaped +beard under his chin, which he now held in his hand. His thin, nasal +voice was somehow absurdly penetrating as he addressed the chair. Mr. +Sutton was apparently, for once, taken by surprise, and stared a moment, +as though racking his brain for the name. + +"The gentleman from Suffolk, Mr. Heath," he said, and smiling a little, +sat down. + +The gentleman from Suffolk, still holding on to his beard, pitched in +without preamble. + +"We farmers on the back seats don't often get a chance to be heard, Mr. +Speaker," said he, amidst a general tittering from the front seats. "We +come down here without any l'arnin' of parli'ment'ry law, and before we +know what's happened the session's over, and we hain't said nothin'." +(More laughter.) "There's b'en a good many times when I wanted to say +somethin', and this time I made up my mind I was a-goin' to--law or no +law." + +(Applause, and a general show of interest in the gentleman from Suffolk.) +"Naow, Mr. Speaker, I hain't ag'in' 'Uncle Tom's Cabin.' It's a good +play, and it's done an almighty lot of good. And I hain't sayin' nothin' +ag'in' Alvy Hopkins nor his munificence. But I do know there's a sight +of little bills on that desk that won't be passed if we don't set to- +morrow night--little bills that are big bills for us farmers. That thar +woodchuck bill, for one." (Laughter.) "My constituents want I should +have that bill passed. We don't need a quorum for them bills, but we +need time. Naow, Mr. Speaker, I say let all them that wants to go and +see 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' go and see it, but let a few of us fellers that +has woodchuck bills and other things that we've got to get through come +down here and pass 'em. You kin put 'em on the docket, and I guess if +anything comes along that hain't jest right for everybody, somebody can +challenge a quorum and bust up the session. That's all." + +The gentleman from Suffolk sat down amidst thunderous applause, and +before it died away Mr. Jameson was on his feet, smiling and rubbing his +hands together, and was recognized. + +"Mr. Speaker," he said, as soon as he could be heard, "if the gentleman +from Suffolk desires to pass woodchuck bills" (renewed laughter), "he can +do so as far as I'm concerned. I guess I know where most of the members +of this House will be to-morrow night-" (Cries of 'You're right', and +sharp rapping of the gavel.) "Mr. Speaker, I withdraw my resolution." + +"The gentleman from Wantage," said the Speaker, smiling broadly now, +"withdraws his resolution." + +As William Wetherell was returning to the Pelican House, pondering over +this incident, he almost ran into a distinguished-looking man walking +briskly across Main Street. + +"It was Mr. Worthington!" said Cynthia, looking after him. + +But Mr. Worthington had a worried look on his face, and was probably too +much engrossed in his own thoughts to notice his acquaintances. He had, +in fact, just come from the Throne Room, where he had been to remind +Jethro that the session was almost over, and to ask him what he meant to +do about the Truro Bill. Jethro had given him no satisfaction. + +"Duncan and Lovejoy have their people paid to sit there night and day," +Mr. Worthington had said. "We've got a bare majority on a full House; +but you don't seem to dare to risk it. What are you going to do about +it, Mr. Bass?" + +"W-want the bill to pass--don't you?" + +"Certainly," Mr. Worthington had cried, on the edge of losing his temper. + +"L-left it to me--didn't you? + +"Yes, but I'm entitled to know what's being done. I'm paying for it." + +"H-hain't paid for it yet--hev you?" + +"No, I most assuredly haven't." + +"B-better wait till you do." + +There was very little satisfaction in this, and Mr. Worthington had at +length been compelled to depart, fuming, to the house of his friend the +enemy, Mr. Duncan, there to attempt for the twentieth time to persuade +Mr. Duncan to call off his dogs who were sitting with such praiseworthy +pertinacity in their seats. As the two friends walked on the lawn, Mr. +Worthington tried to explain, likewise for the twentieth time, that the +extension of the Truro Railroad could in no way lessen the Canadian +traffic of the Central, Mr. Duncan's road. But Mr. Duncan could not see +it that way, and stuck to his present ally, Mr. Lovejoy, and refused +point-blank to call off his dogs. Business was business. + +It is an apparently inexplicable fact, however, that Mr. Worthington and +his son Bob were guests at the Duncan mansion at the capital. Two +countries may not be allies, but their sovereigns may be friends. In the +present instance, Mr. Duncan and Mr. Worthington's railroads were +opposed, diplomatically, but another year might see the Truro Railroad +and the Central acting as one. And Mr. Worthington had no intention +whatever of sacrificing Mr. Duncan's friendship. The first citizen of +Brampton possessed one quality so essential to greatness--that of looking +into the future, and he believed that the time would come when an event +of some importance might create a perpetual alliance between himself and +Mr. Duncan. In short, Mr. Duncan had a daughter, Janet, and Mr. +Worthington, as we know, had a son. And Mr. Duncan, in addition to his +own fortune, had married one of the richest heiresses in New England. +Prudens futuri, that was Mr. Worthington's motto. + +The next morning Cynthia, who was walking about the town alone, found +herself gazing over a picket fence at a great square house with a very +wide cornice that stood by itself in the centre of a shade-flecked lawn. +There were masses of shrubbery here and there, and a greenhouse, and a +latticed summer-house: and Cynthia was wondering what it would be like to +live in a great place like that, when a barouche with two shining horses +in silver harness drove past her and stopped before the gate. Four or +five girls and boys came laughing out on the porch, and one of them, who +held a fishing-rod in his hand, Cynthia recognized. Startled and +ashamed, she began to walk on as fast as she could in the opposite +direction, when she heard the sound of footsteps on the lawn behind her, +and her own name called in a familiar voice. At that she hurried the +faster; but she could not run, and the picket fence was half a block +long, and Bob Worthington had an advantage over her. Of course it was +Bob, and he did not scruple to run, and in a few seconds he was leaning +over the fence in front of her. Now Cynthia was as red as a peony by +this time, and she almost hated him. + +"Well, of all people, Cynthia Wetherell!" he cried; "didn't you hear me +calling after you?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia. + +"Why didn't you stop?" + +"I didn't want to," said Cynthia, glancing at the distant group on the +porch, who were watching them. Suddenly she turned to him defiantly. "I +didn't know you were in that house, or in the capital," she said. + +"And I didn't know you were," said Bob, upon whose masculine intelligence +the meaning of her words was entirely lost. "If I had known it, you can +bet I would have looked you up. Where are you staying?" + +"At the Pelican House." + +"What!" said Bob, "with all the politicians? How did you happen to go +there?" + +"Mr. Bass asked my father and me to come down for a few days," answered +Cynthia, her color heightening again. Life is full of contrasts, and +Cynthia was becoming aware +of some of them. + +"Uncle Jethro?" said Bob. + +"Yes, Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, smiling in spite of herself. He +always made her smile. + +"Uncle Jethro owns the Pelican House," said Bob. + +"Does he? I knew he was a great man, but I didn't know how great he was +until I came down here." + +Cynthia said this so innocently that Bob repented his flippancy on the +spot. He had heard occasional remarks of his elders about Jethro. + +"I didn't mean quite that," he said, growing red in his turn. "Uncle +Jethro--Mr. Bass--is a great man of course. That's what I meant." + +"And he's a very good man," said Cynthia, who understood now that he had +spoken a little lightly of Jethro, and resented it. + +"I'm sure of it," said Bob, eagerly. Then Cynthia began to walk on, +slowly, and he followed her on the other side of the fence. "Hold on," +he cried, "I haven't said half the things I want to say--yet." + +"What do you want to say?" asked Cynthia, still walking. "I have to go." + +"Oh, no, you don't! Wait just a minute--won't you?" + +Cynthia halted, with apparent unwillingness, and put out her toe between +the pickets. Then she saw that there was a little patch on that toe, and +drew it in again. + +"What do you want to say?" she repeated. "I don't believe you have +anything to say at all." And suddenly she flashed a look at him that +made his heart thump. + +"I do--I swear I do!" he protested. "I'm coming down to the Pelican to- +morrow morning to get you to go for a walk." + +Cynthia could not but think that the remoteness of the time he set was +scarce in keeping with his ardent tone. + +"I have something else to do to-morrow morning," she answered. + +"Then I'll come to-morrow afternoon," said Bob, instantly. + +"Who lives here?" she asked irrelevantly. + +"Mr. Duncan. I'm visiting the Duncans." + +At this moment a carryall joined the carriage at the gate. Cynthia +glanced at the porch again. The group there had gown larger, and they +were still staring. She began to feel uncomfortable again, and moved on +slowly. + +"Mayn't I come?" asked Bob, going after her; and scraping the butt of the +rod along the palings. + +"Aren't there enough girls here to satisfy you?" asked Cynthia. + +"They're enough--yes," he said, "but none of 'em could hold a candle to +you." + +Cynthia laughed outright. + +"I believe you tell them all something like that," she said. + +"I don't do any such thing," he retorted, and then he laughed himself, +and Cynthia laughed again. + +"I like you because you don't swallow everything whole," said Bob, "and-- +well, for a good many other reams." And he looked into her face with +such frank admiration that Cynthia blushed and turned away. + +"I don't believe a word you say," she answered, and started to walk off, +this time in earnest. + +"Hold on," cried Bob. They were almost at the end of the fence by this, +and the pickets were sharp and rather high, or he would have climbed +them. + +Cynthia paused hesitatingly. + +"I'll come at two o'clock to-morrow," said he; "We're going on a picnic +to-day, to Dalton's Bend, on the river. I wish I could get out of it." + +Just then there came a voice from the gateway. + +"Bob! Bob Worthington!" + +They both turned involuntarily. A slender girl with light brown hair was +standing there, waving at him. + +"Who's that?" asked Cynthia. + +"That?" said Bob, in some confusion, "oh, that's Janet Duncan." + +"Good-by," said Cynthia. + +"I'm coming to-morrow," he called after her, but she did not turn. In a +little while she heard the carryall behind her clattering down the +street, its passengers laughing and joking merrily. Her face burned, for +she thought that they were laughing at her; she wished with all her heart +that she had not stopped to talk with him at the palings. The girls, +indeed, were giggling as the carryall passed, and she heard somebody call +out his name, but nevertheless he leaned out of the seat and waved his +hat at her, amid a shout of laughter. Poor Cynthia! She did not look at +him. Tears of vexation were in her eyes, and the light of her joy at +this visit to the capital flickered, and she wished she were back in +Coniston. She thought it would be very nice to be rich, and to live in a +great house in a city, and to go on picnics. + +The light flickered, but it did not wholly go out. If it has not been +shown that Cynthia was endowed with a fair amount of sense, many of these +pages have been written in vain. She sat down for a while in the park +and thought of the many things she had to be thankful for--not the least +of which was Jethro's kindness. And she remembered that she was to see +"Uncle Tom's Cabin" that evening. + +Such are the joys and sorrows of fifteen! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Mr. Amos Cuthbert named it so--our old friend Amos who lives high up in +the ether of Town's End ridge, and who now represents Coniston in the +Legislature. He is the same silent, sallow person as when Jethro first +took a mortgage on his farm, only his skin is beginning to resemble dried +parchment, and he is a trifle more cantankerous. On the morning of that +memorable day when, "Uncle Tom's Cabin" came to the capital, Amos had +entered the Throne Room and given vent to his feelings in regard to the +gentleman in the back seat who had demanded an evening sitting on behalf +of the farmers. + +"Don't that beat all?" cried Amos. "Let them have their darned woodchuck +session; there won't nobody go to it. For cussed, crisscross +contrariness, give me a moss-back Democrat from a one-boss, one-man town +like Suffolk. I'm a-goin' to see the show." + +"G-goin' to the show, be you, Amos?" said Jethro. + +"Yes, I be," answered Amos, bitterly. "I hain't agoin' nigh the house +to-night." And with this declaration he departed. + +"I wonder if he really is going?" queried Mr. Merrill looking at the +ceiling. And then he laughed. + +"Why shouldn't he go?" asked William Wetherell. + +Mr. Merrill's answer to this question was a wink, whereupon he, too, +departed. And while Wetherell was pondering over the possible meaning of +these words the Honorable Alva Hopkins entered, wreathed in smiles, and +closed the door behind him. + +"It's all fixed," he said, taking a seat near Jethro in the window. + +"S-seen your gal--Alvy--seen your gal?" + +Mr. Hopkins gave a glance at Wetherell. + +"Will don't talk," said Jethro, and resumed his inspection through the +lace curtains of what was going on in the street. + +"Cassandry's, got him to go," said Mr. Hopkins. "It's all fixed, as sure +as Sunday. If it misses fire, then I'll never mention the governorship +again. But if it don't miss fire," and the Honorable Alva leaned over +and put his hand on Jethro's knee, "if it don't miss fire, I get the +nomination. Is that right?" + +"Y-you've guessed it, Alvy." + +"That's all I want to know," declared the Honorable Alva; "when you say +that much, you never go back on it. And, you can go ahead and give the +orders, Jethro. I have to see that the boys get the tickets. +Cassandry's got a head on her shoulders, and she kind of wants to be +governor, too." He got as far as the door, when he turned and bestowed +upon Jethro a glance of undoubted tribute. "You've done a good many +smart things," said he, "but I guess you never beat this, and never +will." + +"H-hain't done it yet, Alvy," answered Jethro, still looking out through +the window curtains at the ever ganging groups of gentlemen in the +street. These groups had a never ceasing interest for Jethro Bass. + +Mr. Wetherell didn't talk, but had he been the most incurable of gossips +he felt that he could have done no damage to this mysterious affair, +whatever it was. In a certain event, Mr. Hopkins was promised the +governorship: so much was plain. And it was also evident that Miss +Cassandra Hopkins was in some way to be instrumental. William Wetherell +did not like to ask Jethro, but he thought a little of sounding Mr. +Merrill, and then he came to the conclusion that it would be wiser for +him not to know. + +"Er--Will," said Jethro, presently, "you know Heth Sutton--Speaker Heth +Sutton?" + +"Yes." + +"Er--wouldn't mind askin' him to step in and see me before the session-- +if he was comin' by--would you?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Er--if he was comin' by," said Jethro. + +Mr. Wetherell found Mr. Speaker Sutton glued to a pillar in the rotunda +below. He had some difficulty in breaking through the throng that +pressed around him, and still more in attracting his attention, as Mr. +Sutton took no manner of notice of the customary form of placing one's +hand under his elbow and pressing gently up. Summoning up his courage, +Mr. Wetherell tried the second method of seizing him by the buttonhole. +He paused in his harangue, one hand uplifted, and turned and glanced at +the storekeeper abstractedly. + +"Mr. Bass asked me to tell you to drop into Number 7," said Wetherell, +and added, remembering express instructions, "if you were going by." + +Wetherell had not anticipated the magical effect this usual message would +have on Mr. Sutton, nor had he thought that so large and dignified a body +would move so rapidly. Before the astonished gentlemen who had penned +him could draw a breath, Mr. Sutton had reached the stairway and, was +mounting it with an agility that did him credit. Five minutes later +Wetherell saw the Speaker descending again, the usually impressive +quality of his face slightly modified by the twitching of a smile. + +Thus the day passed, and the gentlemen of the Lovejoy and Duncan factions +sat, as tight as ever in their seats, and the Truro Franchise bill still +slumbered undisturbed in Mr. Chauncey Weed's committee. + +At supper there was a decided festal air about the dining room of the +Pelican House, the little band of agricultural gentlemen who wished to +have a session not being patrons of that exclusive hotel. Many of the +Solons had sent home for their wives; that they might do the utmost +justice to the Honorable Alva's hospitality. Even Jethro, as he ate his +crackers and milk, had a new coat with bright brass buttons, and Cynthia, +who wore a fresh gingham which Miss Sukey Kittredge of Coniston had +helped to design, so far relented in deference to Jethro's taste as to +tie a red bow at her throat. + +The middle table under the chandelier was the immediate firmament of Miss +Cassandra Hopkins. And there, beside the future governor, sat the +president of the "Northwestern" Railroad, Mr. Lovejoy, as the chief of +the revolving satellites. People began to say that Mr. Lovejoy was +hooked at last, now that he had lost his head in such an unaccountable +fashion as to pay his court in public; and it was very generally known +that he was to make one of the Honorable Alva's immediate party at the +performance of "Uncle Tam's Cabin." + +Mr. Speaker Sutton, of course, would have to forego the pleasure of the +theatre as a penalty of his high position. Mr. Merrill, who sat at +Jethro's table next to Cynthia that evening, did a great deal of joking +with the Honorable Heth about having to preside aver a woodchuck session, +which the Speaker, so Mr. Wetherell thought, took in astonishingly good +part, and seemed very willing to make the great sacrifice which his duty +required of him. + +After supper Mr. Wetherell took a seat in the rotunda. As an observer of +human nature, he had begun to find a fascination in watching the group of +politicians there. First of all he encountered Mr. Amos Cuthbert, his +little coal-black eyes burning brightly, and he was looking very +irritable indeed. + +"So you're going to the show, Amos?" remarked the storekeeper, with an +attempt at cordiality. + +To his bewilderment, Amos turned upon him fiercely. + +"Who said I was going to the show?" he snapped. + +"You yourself told me." + +"You'd ought to know whether I'm a-goin' or not," said Amos, and walked +away. + +While Mr. Wetherell sat meditating, upon this inexplicable retort, a +retired, scholarly looking gentleman with a white beard, who wore +spectacles, came out of the door leading from the barber shop and quietly +took a seat beside him. The storekeeper's attention was next distracted +by the sight of one who wandered slowly but ceaselessly from group to +group, kicking up his heels behind, and halting always in the rear of the +speakers. Needless to say that this was our friend Mr. Bijah Bixby, who +was following out his celebrated tactics of "going along by when they +were talkin' sly." Suddenly Mr. Bixby's eye alighted on Mr. Wetherell, +who by a stretch of imagination conceived that it expressed both +astonishment and approval, although he was wholly at a loss to understand +these sentiments. Mr. Bixby winked--Mr. Wetherell was sure of that. But +to his surprise, Bijah did not pause in his rounds to greet him. + +Mr. Wetherell was beginning to be decidedly uneasy, and was about to go +upstairs, when Mr. Merrill came down the rotunda whistling, with his +hands in his pockets. He stopped whistling when he spied the +storekeeper, and approached him in his usual hearty manner. + +"Well, well, this is fortunate," said Mr. Merrill; "how are you, Duncan? +I want you to know Mr. Wetherell. Wetherell writes that weekly letter +for the Guardian you were speaking to me about last year. Will, this is +Mr. Alexander Duncan, president of the 'Central.'" + +"How do you do, Mr. Wetherell?" said the scholarly gentleman with the +spectacles, putting out his hand. "I'm glad to meet you, very glad, +indeed. I read your letters with the greatest pleasure." + +Mr. Wetherell, as he took Mr. Duncan's hand, had a variety of emotions +which may be imagined, and need not be set down in particular. + +"Funny thing," Mr. Merrill continued, "I was looking for you, Duncan. It +occurred to me that you would like to meet Mr. Wetherell. I was afraid +you were in Boston." + +"I have just got back," said Mr. Duncan. + +"I wanted Wetherell to see your library. I was telling him about it." + +"I should be delighted to show it to him," answered Mr. Duncan. That +library, as is well known, was a special weakness of Mr. Duncan's. + +Poor William Wetherell, who was quite overwhelmed by the fact that the +great Mr. Duncan had actually read his letters and liked them, could +scarcely utter a sensible word. Almost before he realized what had +happened he was following Mr. Duncan out of the Pelican House, when the +storekeeper was mystified once more by a nudge and another wink from Mr. +Bixby, conveying unbounded admiration. + +"Why don't you write a book, Mr. Wetherell?" inquired the railroad +president, when they were crossing the park. + +"I don't think I could do it," said Mr. Wetherell, modestly. Such +incense was overpowering, and he immediately forgot Mr. Bixby. + +"Yes, you can," said Mr. Duncan, "only you don't know it. Take your +letters for a beginning. You can draw people well enough, when you try. +There was your description of the lonely hill-farm on the spur--I shall +always remember that: the gaunt farmer, toiling every minute between sun +and sun; the thin, patient woman bending to a task that never charged or +lightened; the children growing up and leaving one by one, some to the +cities, some to the West, until the old people are left alone in the +evening of life--to the sunsets and the storms. Of course you must write +a book." + +Mr. Duncan quoted other letters, and William Wetherell thrilled. Poor +man! he had had little enough incense in his time, and none at all from +the great. They came to the big square house with the cornice which +Cynthia had seen the day before, and walked across the lawn through the +open door. William Wetherell had a glimpse of a great drawing-room with +high windows, out of which was wafted the sound of a piano and of +youthful voice and laughter, and then he was in the library. The thought +of one man owning all those books overpowered him. There they were, in +stately rows, from the floor to the high ceiling, and a portable ladder +with which to reach them. + +Mr. Duncan, understanding perhaps something of the storekeeper's +embarrassment, proceeded to take down his treasures: first editions from +the shelves, and folios and mistrals from drawers in a great iron safe in +one corner and laid them on the mahogany desk. It was the railroad +president's hobby, and could he find an appreciative guest, he was happy. +It need scarcely be said that he found William Wetherell appreciative, +and possessed of knowledge of Shaksperiana and other matters that +astonished his host as well as pleased him. For Wetherell had found his +tongue at last. + +After a while Mr. Duncan drew out his watch and gave a start. + +"By George!" he exclaimed, "it's after eight o'clock. I'll have to ask +you to excuse me to-night, Mr. Wetherell. I'd like to show you the rest +of them--can't you come around to-morrow afternoon?" + +Mr. Wetherell, who had forgotten his own engagement and "Uncle Tom's +Cabin," said he would be happy to come. And they went out together and +began to walk toward the State House. + +"It isn't often I find a man who knows anything at all about these +things," continued Mr. Duncan, whose heart was quite won. "Why do you +bury yourself in Coniston?" + +"I went there from Briton for my health," said the storekeeper. + +"Jethro Bass lives there, doesn't he" said Mr. Duncan, with a laugh. But +I suppose you don't know anything about politics." + +"I know nothing at all," said Mr. Wetherell, which was quite true. He +had been in dreamland, but now the fact struck him again, with something +of a shock, that this mild-mannered gentleman was one of those who had +been paying certain legislators to remain in their seats. Wetherell +thought of speaking to Mr. Duncan of his friendship with Jethro Bass, but +the occasion passed. + +"I wish to heaven I didn't have to know anything about politics," Mr. +Duncan was saying; "they disgust me. There's a little matter on now, +about an extension of the Truro Railroad to Harwich, which wouldn't +interest you, but you can't conceive what a nuisance it has been to watch +that House day and night, as I've had to. It's no joke to have that +townsman of yours; Jethro Bass, opposed to you. I won't say anything +against him, for he many be a friend of yours, and I have to use him +sometimes myself." Mr. Duncan sighed. "It's all very sordid and +annoying. Now this evening, for instance, when we might have enjoyed +ourselves with those books, I've' got to go to the House, just because +some backwoods farmers want to talk about woodchucks. I suppose it's +foolish," said Mr. Duncan; "but Bass has tricked us so often that I've +got into the habit of being watchful. I should have been here twenty +minutes ago." + +By this time they had come to the entrance of the State House, and +Wetherell followed Mr. Duncan in, to have a look at the woodchuck session +himself. Several members hurried by and up the stairs, some of them in +their Sunday black; and the lobby above seemed, even to the storekeeper's +unpractised eye, a trifle active for a woodchuck session. Mr. Duncan +muttered something, and quickened his gait a little on the steps that led +to the gallery. This place was almost empty. They went down to the +rail, and the railroad president cast his eye over the House. + +"Good God!" he said sharply, "there's almost a quorum here." He ran his +eye over the members. "There is a quorum here." + +Mr. Duncan stood drumming nervously with his fingers on the rail, +scanning the heads below. The members were scattered far and wide +through the seats, like an army in open order, listening in silence to +the droning voice of the clerk. Moths burned in the gas flames, and June +bugs hummed in at the high windows and tilted against the walls. Then +Mr. Duncan's finger nails whitened as his thin hands clutched the rail, +and a sense of a pending event was upon Wetherell. Slowly he realized +that he was listening to the Speaker's deep voice. + +"'The Committee on Corporations, to whom was referred House Bill Number +109, entitled, 'An Act to extend the Truro Railroad to Harwich, having +considered the same, report the same with the following resolution: +Resolved, that the bill ought to pass. Chauncey Weed, for the +Committee.'" + +The Truro Franchise! The lights danced, and even a sudden weakness came +upon the storekeeper. Jethro's trick! The Duncan and Lovejoy +representatives in the theatre, the adherents of the bill here! +Wetherell saw Mr. Duncan beside him, a tense figure leaning on the rail, +calling to some one below. A man darted up the centre, another up the +side aisle. Then Mr. Duncan flashed at William Wetherell from his blue +eye such a look of anger as the storekeeper never forgot, and he, too, +was gone. Tingling and perspiring, Wetherell leaned out over the railing +as the Speaker rapped calmly for order. Hysteric laughter, mingled with +hoarse cries, ran over the House, but the Honorable Heth Sutton did not +even smile. + +A dozen members were on their feet shouting to the chair. One was +recognized, and that man Wetherell perceived with amazement to be Mr. +Jameson of Wantage, adherent of Jethro's--he who had moved to adjourn for +"Uncle Tom's Cabin"! A score of members crowded into the aisles, but the +Speaker's voice again rose above the tumult. + +"The doorkeepers will close the doors! Mr. Jameson of Wantage moves that +the report of the Committee be accepted, and on this motion a roll-call +is ordered." + +The doorkeepers, who must have been inspired, had already slammed the +doors in the faces of those seeking wildly to escape. The clerk already +had the little, short-legged desk before him and was calling the roll +with incredible rapidity. Bewildered and excited as Wetherell was, and +knowing as little of parliamentary law as the gentleman who had proposed +the woodchuck session, he began to form some sort of a notion of Jethro's +generalship, and he saw that the innocent rural members who belonged to +Duncan and Lovejoy's faction had tried to get away before the roll-call, +destroy the quorum, and so adjourn the House. These, needless to say, +were not parliamentarians, either. They had lacked a leader, they were +stunned by the suddenness of the onslaught, and had not moved quickly +enough. Like trapped animals, they wandered blindly about for a few +moments, and then sank down anywhere. Each answered the roll-call +sullenly, out of necessity, for every one of them was a marked man. Then +Wetherell remembered the two members who had escaped, and Mr. Duncan, and +fell to calculating how long it would take these to reach Fosters Opera +House, break into the middle of an act, and get out enough partisans to +come back and kill the bill. Mr. Wetherell began to wish he could +witness the scene there, too, but something held him here, shaking with +excitement, listening to each name that the clerk called. + +Would the people at the theatre get back in time? + +Despite William Wetherell's principles, whatever these may have been, he +was so carried away that he found himself with his watch in his hand, +counting off the minutes as the roll-call went on. Fosters Opera House +was some six squares distant, and by a liberal estimate Mr. Duncan and +his advance guard ought to get back within twenty minutes of the time he +left. Wetherell was not aware that people were coming into the gallery +behind him; he was not aware that one sat at his elbow until a familiar +voice spoke, directly into his ear. + +"Er--Will--held Duncan pretty tight--didn't you? He's a hard one to +fool, too. Never suspected a mite, did he? Look out for your watch!" + +Mr. Bixby seized it or it would have fallen. If his life had depended on +it, William Wetherell could not have spoken a word to Mr. Bixby then. + +"You done well, Will, sure enough," that gentleman continued to whisper. +"And Alvy's gal done well, too--you understand. I guess she's the only +one that ever snarled up Al Lovejoy so that he didn't know where he was +at. But it took a fine, delicate touch for her job and yours, Will. +Godfrey, this is the quickest roll-call I ever seed! They've got halfway +through Truro County. That fellow can talk faster than a side-show, +ticket-seller at a circus." + +The clerk was, indeed, performing prodigies of pronunciation. When he +reached Wells County, the last, Mr. Bixby so far lost his habitual sang +froid as to hammer on the rail with his fist. + +"If there hain't a quorum, we're done for," he said. "How much time has +gone away? Twenty minutes! Godfrey, some of 'em may break loose and git +here is five minutes!" + +"Break loose?" Wetherell exclaimed involuntarily. + +Mr. Bixby screwed up his face. + +"You understand. Accidents is liable to happen." + +Mr. Wetherell didn't understand in the least, but just then the clerk +reached the last name on the roll; an instant of absolute silence, save +for the June-bugs, followed, while the assistant clerk ran over his +figures deftly and handed them to Mr. Sutton, who leaned forward to +receive them. + +"One hundred and twelve gentlemen have voted in the affirmative and +forty-eight in the negative, and the report of the Committee is +accepted." + +"Ten more'n a quorum!" ejaculated Mr. Bixby, in a voice of thanksgiving, +as the turmoil below began again. It seemed as though every man in the +opposition was on his feet and yelling at the chair: some to adjourn; +some to indefinitely postpone; some demanding roll-calls; others swearing +at these--for a division vote would have opened the doors. Others tried +to get out, and then ran down the aisles and called fiercely on the +Speaker to open the doors, and threatened him. But the Honorable Heth +Sutton did not lose his head, and it may be doubted whether he ever +appeared to better advantage than at that moment. He had a voice like +one of the Clovelly bulls that fed in his own pastures in the valley, and +by sheer bellowing he got silence, or something approaching it,--the +protests dying down to a hum; had recognised another friend of the bill, +and was putting another question. + +"Mr. Gibbs of Wareham moves that the rules of the House be so far +suspended that this bill be read a second and third time by its title, +and be put upon its final passage at this time. And on this motion," +thundered Mr. Sutton, above the tide of rising voices, "the yeas and nays +are called for. The doorkeepers will keep the doors shut." + +"Abbey of Ashburton." + +The nimble clerk had begun on the roll almost before the Speaker was +through, and checked off the name. Bijah Bixby mopped his brow with a +blue pocket-handkerchief. + +"My God," he said, "what a risk Jethro's took! they can't git through +another roll-call. Jest look at Heth! Ain't he carryin' it magnificent? +Hain't as ruffled as I be. I've knowed him ever sence he wahn't no +higher'n that desk. Never would have b'en in politics if it hadn't b'en +for me. Funny thing, Will--you and I was so excited we never thought to +look at the clock. Put up your watch. Godfrey, what's this?" + +The noise of many feet was heard behind them. Men and women were +crowding breathlessly into the gallery. + +"Didn't take it long to git noised araound," said Mr. Bixby. "Say, Will, +they're bound to have got at 'em in the thea'tre. Don't see how they +held 'em off, c-cussed if I do." + +The seconds ticked into minutes, the air became stifling, for now the +front of the gallery was packed. Now, if ever, the fate of the Truro +Franchise hung in the balance, and, perhaps, the rule of Jethro Bass. +And now, as in the distance, came a faint, indefinable stir, not yet to +be identified by Wetherell's ears as a sound, but registered somewhere in +his brain as a warning note. Bijah Bixby, as sensitive as he, +straightened up to listen, and then the whispering was hushed. The +members below raised their heads, and some clutched the seats in front of +them and looked up at the high windows. Only the Speaker sat like a wax +statue of himself, and glanced neither to the right nor to the left. + +"Harkness of Truro," said the clerk. + +"He's almost to Wells County again," whispered Bijah, excitedly. "I +didn't callate he could do it. Will?" + +"Yes?" + +"Will--you hear somethin'?" + +A distant shout floated with the night breeze in at the windows; a man on +the floor got to his feet and stood straining: a commotion was going on +at the back of the gallery, and a voice was heard crying out:-- + +"For the love of God, let me through!" + +Then Wetherell turned to see the crowd at the back parting a little, to +see a desperate man in a gorgeous white necktie fighting his way toward +the rail. He wore no hat, his collar was wilted, and his normally ashen +face had turned white. And, strangest of all, clutched tightly in his +hand was a pink ribbon. + +"It's A1 Lovejoy," said Bijah, laconically. + +Unmindful of the awe-stricken stares he got from those about him when his +identity became known, Mr. Lovejoy gained the rail and shoved aside a man +who was actually making way for him. Leaning far out, he scanned the +house with inarticulate rage while the roll-call went monotonously on. +Some of the members looked up at him and laughed; others began to make +frantic signs, indicative of helplessness; still others telegraphed him +obvious advice about reenforcements which, if anything, increased his +fury. Mr. Bixby was now fanning himself with the blue handkerchief. + +"I hear 'em!" he said, "I hear 'em, Will!" + +And he did. The unmistakable hum of the voices of many men and the sound +of feet on stone flagging shook the silent night without. The clerk read +off the last name on the roll. + +"Tompkins of Ulster." + +His assistant lost no time now. A mistake would have been fatal, but he +was an old hand. Unmindful of the rumble on the wooden stairs below, Mr. +Sutton took the list with an admirable deliberation. + +"One hundred and twelve gentlemen have voted in the affirmative, forty- +eight in the negative, the rules of the House are suspended, and" (the +clerk having twice mumbled the title of the bill) "the question is: Shall +the bill pass? As many as are of opinion that the bill pass will say +Aye, contrary minded No." + +Feet were in the House corridor now, and voices rising there, and noises +that must have been scuffling--yes, and beating of door panels. Almost +every member was standing, and it seemed as if they were all shouting,-- +"personal privilege," "fraud," "trickery," "open the doors." Bijah was +slowly squeezing the blood out of William Wetherell's arm. + +"The doorkeepers has the keys in their pockets!" Mr. Bixby had to shout, +for once. + +Even then the Speaker did not flinch. By a seeming miracle he got a +semblance of order, recognized his man, and his great voice rang through +the hall and drowned all other sounds. + +"And on this question a roll-call is ordered. The doorkeepers will close +the doors!" + +Then, as in reaction, the gallery trembled with a roar of laughter. But +Mr. Sutton did not smile. The clerk scratched off the names with +lightning rapidity, scarce waiting for the answers. Every man's color +was known, and it was against the rules to be present and fail to vote. +The noise in the corridors grew louder, some one dealt a smashing kick on +a panel, and Wetherell ventured to ask Mr. Bixby if he thought the doors +would hold. + +"They can break in all they've a mind to now," he chuckled; "the Truro +Franchise is safe." + +"What do you mean?" Wetherell demanded excitedly. + +"If a member hain't present when a question is put, he can't git into a +roll-call," said Bijah. + +The fact that the day was lost was evidently brought home to those below, +for the strife subsided gradually, and finally ceased altogether. The +whispers in the gallery died down, the spectators relayed a little. +Lovejoy alone remained tense, though he had seated himself on a bench, +and the hot anger in which he had come was now cooled into a +vindictiveness that set the hard lines of his face even harder. He still +clutched the ribbon. The last part of that famous roll-call was +conducted so quietly that a stranger entering the House would have +suspected nothing unusual. It was finished in absolute silence. + +"One hundred and twelve gentlemen have voted in the affirmative, forty- +eight in the negative, and the bill passes. The House will attend to the +title of the bill." + +"An act to extend the Truro Railroad to Harwich," said the clerk, glibly. + +"Such will be the title of the bill unless otherwise ordered by the +House," said Mr. Speaker Sutton. "The doorkeepers will open the doors." + +Somebody moved to adjourn, the motion was carried, and thus ended what +has gone down to history as the Woodchuck Session. Pandemonium reigned. +One hundred and forty belated members fought their way in at the four +entrances, and mingled with them were lobbyists of all sorts and +conditions, residents and visitors to the capital, men and women to whom +the drama of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was as nothing to that of the Truro +Franchise Bill. It was a sight to look down upon. Fierce wrangles began +in a score of places, isolated personal remarks rose above the din, but +your New Englander rarely comes to blows; in other spots men with broad +smiles seized others by the hands and shook them violently, while Mr. +Speaker Sutton seemed in danger of suffocation by his friends. His +enemies, for the moment, could get nowhere near him. On this scene Mr. +Bijah Bixby gazed with pardonable pleasure. + +"Guess there wahn't a mite of trouble about the river towns," he said, "I +had 'em in my pocket. Will, let's amble round to the theatre. We ought +to git in two acts." + +William Wetherell went. There is no need to go into the psychology of +the matter. It may have been numbness; it may have been temporary +insanity caused by the excitement of the battle he had witnessed, for his +brain was in a whirl; or Mr. Bixby may have hypnotized him. As they +walked through the silent streets toward the Opera House, he listened +perforce to Mr. Bixby's comments upon some of the innumerable details +which Jethro had planned and quietly carried out while sitting, in the +window of the Throne Room. A great light dawned on William Wetherell, +but too late. + +Jethro's trusted lieutenants (of whom, needless to say, Mr. Bixby was +one) had been commanded to notify such of their supporters whose fidelity +and secrecy could be absolutely depended upon to attend the Woodchuck +Session; and, further to guard against surprise, this order had not gone +out until the last minute (hence Mr. Amos Cuthbert's conduct). The seats +of these members at the theatre had been filled by accommodating +townspeople and visitors. Forestalling a possible vote on the morrow to +recall and reconsider, there remained some sixty members whose loyalty +was unquestioned, but whose reputation for discretion was not of the +best. So much for the parliamentary side of the affair, which was a +revelation of generalship and organization to William Wetherell. By the +time he had grasped it they were come in view of the lights of Fosters +Opera House, and they perceived, among a sprinkling of idlers, a +conspicuous and meditative gentleman leaning against a pillar. He was +ludicrously tall and ludicrously thin, his hands were in his trousers +pockets, and the skirts of his Sunday broadcloth coat hung down behind +him awry. One long foot was crossed over the other and rested on the +point of the toe, and his head was tilted to one side. He had, on the +whole, the appearance of a rather mournful stork. Mr. Bixby approached +him gravely, seized him by the lower shoulder, and tilted him down until +it was possible to speak into his ear. The gentleman apparently did not +resent this, although he seemed in imminent danger of being upset. + +"How be you, Peleg? Er--you know Will?" + +"No," said the gentleman. + +Mr. Bixby seized Mr. Wetherell under the elbow, and addressed himself to +the storekeeper's ear. + +"Will, I want you to shake hands with Senator Peleg Hartington, of +Brampton. This is Will Wetherell, Peleg,--from Coniston--you +understand." + +The senator took one hand from his pocket. + +"How be you?" he said. Mr. Bixby was once more pulling down on his +shoulder. + +"H-haow was it here?" he demanded. + +"Almighty funny," answered Senator Hartington, sadly, and waved at the +lobby. "There wahn't standin' room in the place." + +"Jethro Bass Republican Club come and packed the entrance," explained Mr. +Bixby with a wink. "You understand, Will? Go on, Peleg." + +"Sidewalk and street, too," continued Mr. Hartington, slowly. "First come +along Ball of Towles, hollerin' like blazes. They crumpled him all up +and lost him. Next come old man Duncan himself." + +"Will kep' Duncan," Mr. Bixby interjected. + +"That was wholly an accident," exclaimed Mr. Wetherell, angrily. + +"Will wahn't born in the country," said Mr. Bixby. + +Mr. Hartington bestowed on the storekeeper a mournful look, and +continued:-- + +"Never seed Duncan sweatin' before. He didn't seem to grasp why the boys +was there." + +"Didn't seem to understand," put in Mr. Bixby, sympathetically. + +"'For God's sake, gentlemen,' says he, 'let me in! The Truro Bill!' +'The Truro Bill hain't in the theatre, Mr. Duncan,' says Dan Everett. +Cussed if I didn't come near laughin'. 'That's "Uncle Tom's Cabin," Mr. +Duncan,' says Dan. 'You're a dam fool,' says Duncan. I didn't know he +was profane. 'Make room for Mr. Duncan,' says Dan, 'he wants to see the +show.' 'I'm a-goin' to see you in jail for this, Everett,' says Duncan. +They let him push in about half a rod, and they swallowed him. He was +makin' such a noise that they had to close the doors of the theatre--so's +not to disturb the play-actors." + +"You understand," said Mr. Bixby to Wetherell. Whereupon he gave another +shake to Mr. Hartington, who had relapsed into a sort of funereal +meditation. + +"Well," resumed that personage, "there was some more come, hollerin' +about the Truro Bill. Not many. Guess they'll all have to git their +wimmen-folks to press their clothes to-morrow. Then Duncan wanted to git +out again, but 'twan't exactly convenient. Callated he was suffocatin'-- +seemed to need air. Little mite limp when he broke loose, Duncan was." + +The Honorable Peleg stopped again, as if he were overcome by the +recollection of Mr. Duncan's plight. + +"Er--er--Peleg!" + +Mr. Hartington started. + +"What'd they do?--what'd they do?" + +"Do?" + +"How'd they git notice to 'em?" + +"Oh," said Mr. Hartington, "cussed if that wuhn't funny. Let's see, +where was I? After awhile they went over t'other side of the street, +talkin' sly, waitin' for the act to end. But goldarned if it ever did +end." + +For once Mr. Bixby didn't seem to understand. + +"D-didn't end?" + +"No," explained Mr. Hartington; "seems they hitched a kind of nigger +minstrel show right on to it--banjos and thingumajigs in front of the +curtain while they was changin' scenes, and they hitched the second act +right on to that. Nobody come out of the theatre at all. Funny notion, +wahn't it?" + +Mr. Bixby's face took on a look of extreme cunning. He smiled broadly +and poked Mr. Wetherell in an extremely sensitive portion of his ribs. +On such occasions the nasal quality of Bijah's voice seemed to grow. + +"You see?" he said. + +"Know that little man, Gibbs, don't ye?" inquired Mr. Hartington. + +"Airley Gibbs, hain't it? Runs a livery business daown to Rutgers, on +Lovejoy's railroad," replied Mr. Bixby, promptly. "I know him. Knew old +man Gibbs well's I do you. Mean cuss." + +"This Airley's smart--wahn't quite smart enough, though. His bright idea +come a little mite late. Hunted up old Christy, got the key to his law +office right here in the Duncan Block, went up through the skylight, +clumb down to the roof of Randall's store next door, shinned up the +lightnin' rod on t'other side, and stuck his head plump into the Opery +House window." + +"I want to know!" ejaculated Mr. Bixby. + +"Somethin' terrible pathetic was goin' on on the stage," resumed Mr. +Hartington, "the folks didn't see him at first,--they was all cryin' and +everythin' was still, but Airley wahn't affected. As quick as he got his +breath he hollered right out loud's he could: 'The Truro Bill's up in the +House, boys. We're skun if you don't git thar quick.' Then they tell +me' the lightnin' rod give way; anyhow, he came down on Randall's gravel +roof considerable hard, I take it." + +Mr. Hartington, apparently, had an aggravating way of falling into +mournful revery and of forgetting his subject. Mr. Bixby was forced to +jog him again. + +"Yes, they did," he said, "they did. They come out like the theatre was +afire. There was some delay in gettin' to the street, but not much--not +much. All the Republican Clubs in the state couldn't have held 'em then, +and the profanity they used wahn't especially edifyin'." + +"Peleg's a deacon--you understand," said Mr. Bixby. "Say, Peleg, where +was Al Lovejoy?" + +"Lovejoy come along with the first of 'em. Must have hurried some--they +tell me he was settin' way down in front alongside of Alvy Hopkins's gal, +and when Airley hollered out she screeched and clutched on to Al, and Al +said somethin' he hadn't ought to and tore off one of them pink gew-gaws +she was covered with. He was the maddest man I ever see. Some of the +club was crowded inside, behind the seats, standin' up to see the show. +Al was so anxious to git through he hit Si Dudley in the mouth--injured +him some, I guess. Pity, wahn't it?" + +"Si hain't in politics, you understand," said Mr. Bixby. "Callate Si +paid to git in there, didn't he, Peleg?" + +"Callate he did," assented Senator Hartington. + +A long and painful pause followed. There seemed, indeed, nothing more +to be said. The sound of applause floated out of the Opera House doors, +around which the remaining loiterers were clustered. + +"Goin' in, be you, Peleg?" inquired Mr. Bixby. + +Mr. Hartington shook his head. + +"Will and me had a notion to see somethin' of the show," said Mr. Bixby, +almost apologetically. "I kep' my ticket." + +"Well," said Mr. Hartington, reflectively, "I guess you'll find some of +the show left. That hain't b'en hurt much, so far as I can ascertain." + +The next afternoon, when Mr. Isaac D. Worthington happened to be sitting +alone in the office of the Truro Railroad at the capital, there came a +knock at the door, and Mr. Bijah Bixby entered. Now, incredible as it +may seem, Mr. Worthington did not know Mr. Bixby--or rather, did not +remember him. Mr. Worthington had not had at that time much of an +experience in politics, and he did not possess a very good memory for +faces. + +Mr. Bixby, who had, as we know, a confidential and winning manner, seated +himself in a chair very close to Mr. Worthington--somewhat to that +gentleman's alarm. "How be you?" said Bijah, "I-I've got a little bill +here--you understand." + +Mr. Worthington didn't understand, and he drew his chair away from Mr. +Bixby's. + +"I don't know anything about it, sir," answered the president of the +Truro Railroad, indignantly; "this is neither the manner nor the place to +present a bill. I don't want to see it." + +Mr. Bixby moved his chair up again. "Callate you will want to see this +bill, Mr. Worthington," he insisted, not at all abashed. "Jethro Bass +sent it--you understand--it's engrossed." + +Whereupon Mr. Bixby drew from his capacious pocket a roll, tied with +white ribbon, and pressed it into Mr. Worthington's hands. It was the +Truro Franchise Bill. + +It is safe to say that Mr. Worthington understood. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +There are certain instruments used by scientists so delicate that they +have to be wrapped in cotton wool and kept in ductless places, and so +sensitive that the slightest shock will derange them. And there are +certain souls which cannot stand the jars of life--souls created to +register thoughts and sentiments too fine for those of coarser +construction. Such was the soul of the storekeeper of Coniston. Whether +or not he was one of those immortalized in the famous Elegy, it is not +for us to say. A celebrated poet who read the letters to the Guardian-- +at Miss Lucretia Penniman's request--has declared Mr. Wetherell to have +been a genius. He wrote those letters, as we know, after he had piled +his boxes and rolled his barrels into place; after he had added up the +columns in his ledger and recorded, each week, the small but ever +increasing deficit which he owed to Jethro Bass. Could he have been +removed from the barrels and the ledgers, and the debts and the cares and +the implications, what might we have had from his pen? That will never +be known. + +We left him in the lobby of the Opera House, but he did not go in to see +the final act of "Uncle Tom's Cabin." He made his way, alone, back to +the hotel, slipped in by a side entrance, and went directly to his room, +where Cynthia found him, half an hour later, seated by the open window in +the dark. + +"Aren't you well, Dad?" she asked anxiously. "Why didn't you come to see +the play?" + +"I--I was detained Cynthia," he said. "Yes--I am well." + +She sat down beside him and felt his forehead and his hands, and the +events of the evening which were on her lips to tell him remained +unspoken. + +"You ought not to have left Coniston," she said; "the excitement is too +much for you. We will go back tomorrow." + +"Yes, Cynthia, we will go back to-morrow." + +"In the morning?" + +"On the early train," said Wetherell, "and now you must go to sleep." + +"I am glad," said Cynthia, as she kissed him good night. "I have enjoyed +it here, and I am grateful to Uncle Jethro for bringing us, but--but I +like Coniston best." + +William Wetherell could have slept but a few hours. When he awoke the +sparrows were twittering outside, the fresh cool smells of the morning +were coming in at his windows, and the sunlight was just striking across +the roofs through the green trees of the Capitol Park. The remembrance +of a certain incident of the night before crept into his mind, and he got +up, and drew on his clothes and thrust his few belongings into the +carpet-bag, and knocked on Cynthia's door. She was already dressed, and +her eyes rested searchingly on his face. + +"Dad, you aren't well. I know it," she said. + +But he denied that he was not. + +Her belongings were in a neat little bundle under her arm. But when she +went to put them in the bag she gave an exclamation, knelt down, took +everything out that he had packed, and folded each article over again +with amazing quickness. Then she made a rapid survey of the room lest +she had forgotten anything, closed the bag, and they went out and along +the corridor. But when Wetherell turned to go down the stairs, she +stopped him. + +"Aren't you going to say goodby to Uncle Jethro?" + +"I--I would rather go on and get in the train, Cynthia," he said. +"Jethro will understand." + +Cynthia was worried, but she did not care to leave him; and she led him, +protesting, into the dining room. He had a sinking fear that they might +meet Jethro there, but only a few big-boned countrymen were scattered +about, attended by sleepy waitresses. Lest Cynthia might suspect how his +head was throbbing, Wetherell tried bravely to eat his breakfast. He did +not know that she had gone out, while they were waiting, and written a +note to Jethro, explaining that her father was ill, and that they were +going back to Coniston. After breakfast, when they went to the desk, the +clerk stared at them in astonishment. + +"Going, Mr. Wetherell?" he exclaimed. + +"I find that I have to get back," stammered the storekeeper. "Will you +tell me the amount of my bill?" + +"Judge Bass gave me instructions that he would settle that." + +"It is very kind of Mr. Bass," said Wetherell, "but I prefer to pay it +myself." + +The man hesitated. + +"The judge will be very angry, Mr. Wetherell." + +"Kindly give me the bill." + +The clerk made it out and handed it over in silence. Wetherell had in +his pocket the money from several contributions to the Guardian, and he +paid him. Then they set out for the station, bought their tickets and +hurried past the sprinkling of people there. The little train for Truro +was standing under the sheds, the hissing steam from the locomotive +rising perpendicular in the still air of the morning, and soon they were +settled in one of the straight-backed seats. The car was almost empty, +for few people were going up that day, and at length, after what, seemed +an eternity of waiting, they started, and soon were in the country once +more in that wonderful Truro valley with its fruit trees and its clover +scents; with its sparkling stream that tumbled through the passes and +mirrored between green meadow-banks the blue and white of the sky. How +hungrily they drank in the freshness of it. + +They reached Truro village at eleven. Outside the little tavern there, +after dinner, the green stage was drawn up; and Tom the driver cracked +his long whip over the Morgan leaders and they started, swaying in the +sand ruts and jolting over the great stones that cropped out of the road. +Up they climbed, through narrow ways in the forest--ways hedged with +alder and fern and sumach and wild grape, adorned with oxeye daisies and +tiger lilies, and the big purple flowers which they knew and loved so +well. They passed, too, wild lakes overhung with primeval trees, where +the iris and the waterlily grew among the fallen trunks and the water- +fowl called to each other across the blue stretches. And at length, when +the sun was beginning visibly to fall, they came out into an open cut on +the western side and saw again the long line of Coniston once more +against the sky. + +"Dad," said Cynthia, as she gazed, "don't you love it better than any +other place in the world?" + +He did. But he could not answer her. + +An hour later, from the hilltops above Isaac Worthington's mills, they +saw the terraced steeple of Brampton church, and soon the horses were +standing with drooping heads and wet sides in front of Mr. Sherman's +tavern in Brampton Street; and Lem Hallowell, his honest face aglow with +joy, was lifting Cynthia out of the coach as if she were a bundle of +feathers. + +"Upon my word," he cried, "this is a little might sudden! What's the +matter with the capital, Will? Too wicked and sophisticated down thar to +suit ye?" By this time, Wetherell, too, had reached the ground, and as +Lem Hallowell gazed into his face the laughter in his own died away and +gave place to a look of concern. "Don't wonder ye come back," he said, +"you're as white as Moses's hoss." + +"He isn't feeling very well, Lem;" said Cynthia. + +"Jest tuckered, that's all," answered Lem; "you git him right into the +stage, Cynthy, I won't be long. Hurry them things off, Tom," he called, +and himself seized a huge crate from the back of the coach and flung it +on his shoulder. He had his cargo on in a jiffy, clucked to his horses, +and they turned into the familiar road to Coniston just as the sun was +dipping behind the south end of the mountain. + +"They'll be surprised some, and disappointed some," said Lem, cheerily; +"they was kind of plannin' a little celebration when you come back, Will- +-you and Cynthy. Amandy Hatch was a-goin' to bake a cake, and the +minister was callatin' to say some word of welcome. Wahn't goin' to be +anything grand--jest homelike. But you was right to come if you was +tuckered. I guess Cynthy fetched you. Rias he kep' store and done it +well,--brisker'n I ever see him, Rias was. Wait till I put some of them +things back, and make you more comfortable, Will." + +He moved a few parcels and packages from Wetherell's feet and glanced at +Cynthia as he did so. The mountain cast its vast blue shadow over forest +and pasture, and above the pines the white mist was rising from Coniston +Water--rising in strange shapes. Lem's voice seemed to William Wetherell +to have given way to a world-wide silence, in the midst of which he +sought vainly for Cynthia and the stage driver. Most extraordinary of +all, out of the silence and the void came the checker-paned windows of +the store at Coniston, then the store itself, with the great oaks bending +over it, then the dear familiar faces,--Moses and Amandy, Eph Prescott +limping toward them, and little Rias Richardson in an apron with a scoop +shovel in his hand, and many others. They were not smiling at the +storekeeper's return--they looked very grave. Then somebody lifted him +tenderly from the stage and said:-- + +"Don't you worry a mite, Cynthy. Jest tuckered, that's all." + +William Wetherell was "just tuckered." The great Dr. Coles, authority on +pulmonary troubles, who came all the way from Boston, could give no +better verdict than that. It was Jethro Bass who had induced Dr. Coles +to come to Coniston--much against the great man's inclination, and to the +detriment of his patients: Jethro who, on receiving Cynthia's note, had +left the capital on the next train and had come to Coniston, and had at +once gone to Boston for the specialist. + +"I do not know why I came," said the famous physician to Dr. Abraham +Rowell of Tarleton, "I never shall know. There is something about that +man Jethro Bass which compels you to do his will. He has a most +extraordinary personality. Is this storekeeper a great friend of his?" + +"The only intimate friend he had in the world," answered Dr. Rowell; +"none of us could ever understand it. And as for the girl, Jethro Bass +worships her." + +"If nursing could cure him, I'd trust her to do it. She's a natural-born +nurse." + +The two physicians were talking in low tones in the little garden behind +the store when Jethro came out of the doorway. + +"He looks as if he were suffering too," said the Boston physician, and he +walked toward Jethro and laid a hand upon his shoulders. "I give him +until winter, my friend," said Dr. Coles. + +Jethro Bass sat down on the doorstep--on that same millstone where he had +talked with Cynthia many years before--and was silent for a long while. +The doctor was used to scenes of sorrow, but the sight of this man's +suffering unnerved him, and he turned from it. + +"D-doctor?" said Jethro, at last. + +The doctor turned again: "Yes?" he said. + +"D-doctor--if Wetherell hadn't b'en to the capital would he have lived-- +if he hadn't been to the capital?" + +"My friend," said Dr. Coles, "if Mr. Wetherell had always lived in a warm +house, and had always been well fed, and helped over the rough places and +shielded from the storms, he might have lived longer. It is a marvel to +me that he has lived so long." + +And then the doctor went way, back to Boston. Many times in his long +professional life had the veil been lifted for him--a little. But as he +sat in the train he said to himself that in this visit to the hamlet of +Coniston he had had the strangest glimpse of all. William Wetherell +rallied, as Dr. Coles had predicted, from that first sharp attack, and +one morning they brought up a reclining chair which belonged to Mr. +Satterlee, the minister, and set it in the window. There, in the still +days of the early autumn, Wetherell looked down upon the garden he had +grown to love, and listened to the song of Coniston Water. There +Cynthia, who had scarcely left his side, read to him from Keats and +Shelley and Tennyson--yet the thought grew on her that he did not seem to +hear. Even that wonderful passage of Milton's, beginning "So sinks the +day-star in the ocean bed," which he always used to beg her to repeat, +did not seem to move him now. + +The neighbors came and sat with him, but he would not often speak. +Cheery Lem Hallowell and his wife, and Cousin Ephraim, to talk about the +war, hobbling slowly up the stairs--for rheumatism had been added to that +trouble of the Wilderness bullet now, and Ephraim was getting along in +years; and Rias Richardson stole up in his carpet slippers; and Moses, +after his chores were done, and Amandy with her cakes and delicacies, +which he left untouched--though Amandy never knew it. Yes, and Jethro +came. Day by day he would come silently into the room, and sit silently +for a space, and go as silently out of it. The farms were neglected now +on Thousand Acre Hill. William Wetherell would take his hand, and speak +to him, but do no more than that. + +There were times when Cynthia leaned over him, listening as he breathed +to know whether he slept or were awake. If he were not sleeping, he +would speak her name: he repeated it often in those days, as though the +sound of it gave him comfort; and he would fall asleep with it on his +lips, holding her hand, and thinking, perhaps, of that other Cynthia who +had tended and nursed and shielded him in other days. Then she would +steal down the stairs to Jethro on the doorstep: to Jethro who would sit +there for hours at a time, to the wonder and awe of his neighbors. +Although they knew that he loved the storekeeper as he loved no other +man, his was a grief that they could not understand. + +Cynthia used to go to Jethro in the garden. Sorrow had brought them very +near together; and though she had loved him before, now he had become her +reliance and her refuge. The first time Cynthia saw him; when the worst +of the illness had passed and the strange and terrifying apathy had come, +she had hidden her head on his shoulder and wept there. Jethro kept that +coat, with the tear stains on it, to his dying day, and never wore it +again. + +"Sometimes--sometimes I think if he hadn't gone to the capital, Cynthy, +this mightn't hev come," he said to her once. + +"But the doctor said that didn't matter, Uncle Jethro," she answered, +trying to comfort him. She, too, believed that something had happened at +the capital. + +"N-never spoke to you about anything there--n-never spoke to you, +Cynthia?" + +"No, never," she said. "He--he hardly speaks at all, Uncle Jethro." + +One bright morning after the sun had driven away the frost, when the +sumacs and maples beside Coniston Water were aflame with red, Bias +Richardson came stealing up the stairs and whispered something to +Cynthia. + +"Dad," she said, laying down her book, "it's Mr. Merrill. Will you see +him?" + +William Wetherell gave her a great fright. He started up from his +pillows, and seized her wrist with a strength which she had not thought +remained in his fingers. + +"Mr. Merrill!" he cried--"Mr. Merrill here!" + +"Yes," answered Cynthia, agitatedly, "he's downstairs--in the store." + +"Ask him to come up," said Wetherell, sinking back again, "ask him to +come up." + +Cynthia, as she stood in the passage, was of two minds about it. She was +thoroughly frightened, and went first to the garden to ask Jethro's +advice. But Jethro, so Milly Skinner said, had gone off half an hour +before, and did not know that Mr. Merrill had arrived. Cynthia went back +again to her father. + +"Where's Mr. Merrill?" asked Wetherell. + +"Dad, do you think you ought to see him? He--he might excite you." + +"I insist upon seeing him, Cynthia." + +William Wetherell had never said anything like that before. But Cynthia +obeyed him, and presently led Mr. Merrill into the room. The kindly +little railroad president was very serious now. The wasted face of the +storekeeper, enhanced as it was by the beard, gave Mr. Merrill such a +shock that he could not speak for a few moments--he who rarely lacked for +cheering words on any occasion. A lump rose in his throat as he went +over and stood by the chair and took the sick man's hand. + +"I am glad you came, Mr. Merrill," said Wetherell, simply, "I wanted to +speak to you. Cynthia, will you leave us alone for a few minutes?" + +Cynthia went, troubled and perplexed, wondering at the change in him. He +had had something on his mind--now she was sure of it--something which +Mr. Merrill might be able to relieve. + +It was Mr. Merrill who spoke first when she was gone. + +"I was coming up to Brampton," he said, "and Tom Collins, who drives the +Truro coach, told me you were sick. I had not heard of it." + +Mr. Merrill, too, had something on his mind, and did not quite know how +to go on. There was in William Wetherell, as he sat in the chair with +his eyes fixed on his visitor's face, a dignity which Mr. Merrill had not +seen before--had not thought the man might possess. + +"I was coming to see you, anyway," Mr. Merrill said. + +"I did you a wrong--though as God judges me, I did not think of it at the +time. It was not until Alexander Duncan spoke to me last week that I +thought of it at all." + +"Yes," said Wetherell. + +"You see," continued Mr. Merrill wiping his brow, for he found the matter +even more difficult than he had imagined, "it was not until Duncan told +me how you had acted in his library that I guessed the truth--that I +remembered myself how you had acted. I knew that you were not mixed up +in politics, but I also knew that you were an intimate friend of +Jethro's, and I thought that you had been let into the secret of the +woodchuck session. I don't defend the game of politics as it is played, +Mr. Wetherell, but all of us who are friends of Jethro's are generally +willing to lend a hand in any little manoeuvre that is going on, and have +a practical joke when we can. It was not until I saw you sitting there +beside Duncan that the idea occurred to me. It didn't make a great deal +of difference whether Duncan or Lovejoy got to the House or not, provided +they didn't learn of the matter too early, because some of their men had +been bought off that day. It suited Jethro's sense of humor to play the +game that way--and it was very effective. When I saw you there beside +Duncan I remembered that he had spoken about the Guardian letters, and +the notion occurred to me to get him to show you his library. I have +explained to him that you were innocent. I--I hope you haven't been +worrying." + +William Wetherell sat very still for a while, gazing out of the window, +but a new look had come into his eyes. + +"Jethro Bass did not know that you--that you had used me?" he asked at +length. + +"No," replied Mr. Merrill thickly, "no. He didn't know a thing about it +--he doesn't know it now, I believe." + +A smile came upon Wetherell's face, but Mr. Merrill could not look at it. + +"You have made me very happy," said the storekeeper, tremulously. "I--I +have no right to be proud--I have taken his money--he has supported my +daughter and myself all these years. But he had never asked me to--to do +anything, and I liked to think that he never would." + +Mr. Merrill could not speak. The tears were streaming down his cheeks. + +"I want you to promise me, Mr. Merril!" he went on presently, "I want you +to promise me that you will never speak to Jethro, of this, or to my +daughter, Cynthia." + +Mr. Merrill merely nodded his head in assent. Still he could not speak. + +"They might think it was this that caused my death. It was not. I know +very well that I am worn out, and that I should have gone soon in any +case. And I must leave Cynthia to him. He loves her as his own child." + +William Wetherell, his faith in Jethro restored, was facing death as he +had never faced life. Mr. Merrill was greatly affected. + +"You must not speak of dying, Wetherell," said he, brokenly. "Will you +forgive me?" + +"There is nothing to forgive, now that you have explained matters, Mr. +Merrill" said the storekeeper, and he smiled again. "If my fibre had +been a little tougher, this thing would never have happened. There is +only one more request I have to make. And that is, to assure Mr. Duncan, +from me, that I did not detain him purposely." + +"I will see him on my way to Boston," answered Mr. Merrill. + +Then Cynthia was called. She was waiting anxiously in the passage for +the interview to be ended, and when she came in one glance at her +father's face told her that he was happier. She, too, was happier. + +"I wish you would come every day, Mr. Merrill" she said, when they +descended into the garden after the three had talked awhile. "It is the +first time since he fell ill that he seems himself." + +Mr. Merrill's answer was to take her hand and pat it. He sat down on the +millstone and drew a deep breath of that sparkling air and sighed, for +his memory ran back to his own innocent boyhood in the New England +country. He talked to Cynthia until Jethro came. + +"I have taken a fancy to this girl, Jethro," said the little railroad +president, "I believe I'll steal her; a fellow can't have too many of +'em, you know. I'll tell you one thing,--you won't keep her always shut +up here in Coniston. She's much too good to waste on the desert air." +Perhaps Mr. Merrill, too, had been thinking of the Elegy that morning. +"I don't mean to run down Coniston it's one of the most beautiful places +I ever saw. But seriously, Jethro, you and Wetherell ought to send her +to school in Boston after a while. She's about the age of my girls, and +she can live in my house: Ain't I right?" + +"D-don't know but what you be, Steve," Jethro answered slowly. + +"I am right," declared Mr. Merrill "you'll back me in this, I know it. +Why, she's like your own daughter. You remember what I say. I mean it. +--"What are you thinking about, Cynthia?" + +"I couldn't leave Dad and Uncle Jethro," she said. + +"Why, bless your soul," said Mr. Merrill "bring Dad along. We'll find +room for him. And I guess Uncle Jethro will get to Boston twice a month +if you're there." + +And Mr. Merrill got into the buggy with Mr. Sherman and drove away to +Brampton, thinking of many things. + +"S-Steve's a good man," said Jethro. "C-come up here from Brampton to +see your father--did he?" + +"Yes," answered Cynthia, "he is very kind." She was about to tell Jethro +what a strange difference this visit had made in her father's spirits, +but some instinct kept her silent. She knew that Jethro had never ceased +to reproach himself for inviting Wetherell to the capital, and she was +sure that something had happened there which had disturbed her father and +brought on that fearful apathy. But the apathy was dispelled now, and +she shrank from giving Jethro pain by mentioning the fact. + +He never knew, indeed, until many years afterward, what had brought +Stephen Merrill to Coniston. When Jethro went up the stairs that +afternoon, he found William Wetherell alone, looking out over the garden +with a new peace and contentment in his eyes. Jethro drew breath when he +saw that look, as if a great load had been lifted from his heart. + +"F-feelin' some better to-day, Will?" he said. + +"I am well again, Jethro," replied the storekeeper, pressing Jethro's +hand for the first time in months. + +"S-soon be, Will," said Jethro, "s-soon be." + +Wetherell, who was not speaking of the welfare of the body, did not +answer. + +"Jethro," he said presently, "there is a little box lying in the top of +my trunk over there in the corner. Will you get it for me." + +Jethro rose and opened the rawhide trunk and handed the little rosewood +box to his friend. Wetherell took it and lifted the lid reverently, with +that same smile on his face and far-off look in his eyes, and drew out a +small daguerreotype in a faded velvet frame. He gazed at the picture a +long time, and then he held it out to Jethro; and Jethro looked at it, +and his hand trembled. + +It was a picture of Cynthia Ware. And who can say what emotions it awoke +in Jethro's heart? She was older than the Cynthia he had known, and yet +she did not seem so. There was the same sweet, virginal look in the gray +eyes, and the same exquisite purity in the features. He saw her again-- +as if it were yesterday--walking in the golden green light under the +village maples, and himself standing in the tannery door; he saw the face +under the poke bonnet on the road to Brampton, and heard the thrush +singing in the woods. And--if he could only blot out that scene from his +life!--remembered her, a transformed Cynthia,--remembered that face in +the lantern-light when he had flung back the hood that shaded it; and +that hair which he had kissed, wet, then, from the sleet. Ah, God, for +that briefest of moments she had been his! + +So he stared at the picture as it lay in the palm of his hand, and forgot +him who had been her husband. But at length he started, as from a dream, +and gave it back to Wetherell, who was watching him. Her name had never +been mentioned between the two men, and yet she had been the one woman in +the world to both. + +"It is strange," said William Wetherell, "it is strange that I should +have had but two friends in my life, and that she should have been one +and you the other. She found me destitute and brought me back to life +and married me, and cared for me until she died. And after that--you +cared for me." + +"You--you mustn't think of that, Will, 'twahn't much what I did--no more +than any one else would hev done!" + +"It was everything," answered the storekeeper, simply; "each of you came +between me and destruction. There is something that I have always meant +to tell you, Jethro,--something that it may be a comfort for you to know. +Cynthia loved you." + +Jethro Bass did not answer. He got up and stood in the window, looking +out. + +"When she married me," Wetherell continued steadily, "she told me that +there was one whom she had never been able to drive from her heart. And +one summer evening, how well I recall it!--we were walking under the +trees on the Mall and we met my old employer, Mr. Judson, the jeweller. +He put me in mind of the young countryman who had come in to buy a +locket, and I asked her if she knew you. Strange that I should have +remembered your name, wasn't it? It was then that she led me to a bench +and confessed that you were the man whom she could not forget. I used to +hate you then--as much as was in me to hate. I hated and feared you when +I first came to Coniston. But now I can tell you--I can even be happy in +telling you." + +Jethro Bass groaned. He put his hand to his throat as though he were +stifling. Many, many years ago he had worn the locket there. And now? +Now an impulse seized him, and he yielded to it. He thrust his hand in +his coat and drew out a cowhide wallet, and from the wallet the oval +locket itself. There it was, tarnished with age, but with that memorable +inscription still legible,--"Cynthy, from Jethro"; not Cynthia, but +Cynthy. How the years fell away as he read it! He handed it in silence +to the storekeeper, and in silence went to the window again. Jethro Bass +was a man who could find no outlet for his agony in speech or tears. + +"Yes," said Wetherell, "I thought you would have kept it. Dear, dear, +how well I remember it! And I remember how I patronized you when you +came into the shop. I believed I should live to be something in the +world, then. Yes, she loved you, Jethro. I can die more easily now that +I have told you--it has been on my mind all these years." + +The locket fell open in William Wetherell's hand, for the clasp had +become worn with time, and there was a picture of little Cynthia within: +of little Cynthia,--not so little now,--a photograph taken in Brampton +the year before. Wetherell laid it beside the daguerreotype. + +"She looks like her," he said aloud; "but the child is more vigorous, +more human--less like a spirit. I have always thought of Cynthia Ware as +a spirit." + +Jethro turned at the words, and came and stood looking over Wetherell's +shoulder at the pictures of mother and daughter. In the rosewood box was +a brooch and a gold ring--Cynthia Ware's wedding ring--and two small +slips of yellow paper. William Wetherell opened one of these, disclosing +a little braid of brown hair. He folded the paper again and laid it in +the locket, and handed that to Jethro. + +"It is all I have to give you," he said, "but I know that you will +cherish it, and cherish her, when I am gone. She--she has been a +daughter to both of us." + +"Yes," said Jethro, "I will." + +William Wetherell lived but a few days longer. They laid him to rest at +last in the little ground which Captain Timothy Prescott had hewn out of +the forest with his axe, where Captain Timothy himself lies under his +slate headstone with the quaint lettering of bygone days.--That same +autumn Jethro Bass made a pilgrimage to Boston, and now Cynthia Ware +sleeps there, too, beside her husband, amid the scenes she loved so well. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Certain souls which cannot stand the jars of life +It is all I have to give you +It was almost criminal ignorance +Sit down under the enemy's ramparts and smoke him out +Thought that gentlemen and politics were contradictions + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Coniston, V2 +by Winston Churchill + + + + + + +CONISTON + + + +BOOK III + +CHAPTER I + +One day, in the November following William Wetherell's death, Jethro Bass +astonished Coniston by moving to the little cottage in the village which +stood beside the disused tannery, and which had been his father's. It +was known as the tannery house. His reasons for this step, when at +length discovered, were generally commended: they were, in fact, a +disinclination to leave a girl of Cynthia's tender age alone on Thousand +Acre Hill while he journeyed on his affairs about the country. The Rev. +Mr. Satterlee, gaunt, red-faced, but the six feet of him a man and a +Christian, from his square-toed boots to the bleaching yellow hair around +his temples, offered to become her teacher. For by this time Cynthia had +exhausted the resources of the little school among the birches. + +The four years of her life in the tannery house which are now briefly to +be chronicled were, for her, full of happiness and peace. Though the +young may sorrow, they do not often mourn. Cynthia missed her father; at +times, when the winds kept her wakeful at night, she wept for him. But +she loved Jethro Bass and served him with a devotion that filled his +heart with strange ecstasies--yes, and forebodings. In all his existence +he had never known a love like this. He may have imagined it once, back +in the bright days of his youth; but the dreams of its fulfilment had +fallen far short of the exquisite touch of the reality in which he now +spent his days at home. In summer, when she sat, in the face of all the +conventions of the village, reading under the butternut tree before the +house, she would feel his eyes upon her, and the mysterious yearning in +them would startle her. Often during her lessons with Mr. Satterlee in +the parlor of the parsonage she would hear a noise outside and perceive +Jethro leaning against the pillar. Both Cynthia and Mr. Satterlee knew +that he was there, and both, by a kind of tacit agreement, ignored the +circumstance. + +Cynthia, in this period, undertook Jethro's education, too. She could +have induced him to study the making of Latin verse by the mere asking. +During those days which he spent at home, and which he had grown to value +beyond price, he might have been seen seated on the ground with his back +to the butternut tree while Cynthia read aloud from the well-worn books +which had been her father's treasures, books that took on marvels of +meaning from her lips. Cynthia's powers of selection were not remarkable +at this period, and perhaps it was as well that she never knew the effect +of the various works upon the hitherto untamed soul of her listener. +Milton and Tennyson and Longfellow awoke in him by their very music +troubled and half-formed regrets; Carlyle's "Frederick the Great" set up +tumultuous imaginings; but the "Life of Jackson" (as did the story of +Napoleon long ago) stirred all that was masterful in his blood. Unlettered +as he was, Jethro had a power which often marks the American of action-- +a singular grasp of the application of any sentence or paragraph to his +own life; and often, about this time, he took away the breath of a judge +or a senator by flinging at them a chunk of Carlyle or Parton. + +It was perhaps as well that Cynthia was not a woman at this time, and +that she had grown up with him, as it were. His love, indeed, was that +of a father for a daughter; but it held within it as a core the revived +love of his youth for Cynthia, her mother. Tender as were the +manifestations of this love, Cynthia never guessed the fires within, for +there was in truth something primeval in the fierceness of his passion. +She was his now--his alone, to cherish and sweeten the declining years +of his life, and when by a chance Jethro looked upon her and thought of +the suitor who was to come in the fulness of her years, he burned with a +hatred which it is given few men to feel. It was well for Jethro that +these thoughts came not often. + +Sometimes, in the summer afternoons, they took long drives through the +town behind Jethro's white horse on business. "Jethro's gal," as Cynthia +came to be affectionately called, held the reins while Jethro went in to +talk to the men folk. One August evening found Cynthia thus beside a +poplar in front of Amos Cuthbert's farmhouse, a poplar that shimmered +green-gold in the late afternoon, and from the buggy-seat Cynthia looked +down upon a thousand purple hilltops and mountain peaks of another state. +The view aroused in the girl visions of the many wonders which life was +to hold, and she did not hear the sharp voice beside her until the woman +had spoken twice. Jethro came out in the middle of the conversation, +nodded to Mrs. Cuthbert, and drove off. + +"Uncle Jethro," asked Cynthia, presently, "what is a mortgage?" + +Jethro struck the horse with the whip, an uncommon action with him, and +the buggy was jerked forward sharply over the boulders. + +"Er--who's b'en talkin' about mortgages, Cynthy?" he demanded. + +"Mrs. Cuthbert said that when folks had mortgage held over them they had +to take orders whether they liked them or not. She said that Amos had to +do what you told him because there was a mortgage. That isn't so is it?" + +Jethro did not speak. Presently Cynthia laid her hand over his. + +"Mrs. Cuthbert is a spiteful woman," she said. "I know the reason why +people obey you--it's because you're so great. And Daddy used to tell me +so." + +A tremor shook Jethro's frame and the hand on which hers rested, and all +the way down the mountain valleys to Coniston village he did not speak +again. But Cynthia was used to his silences, and respected them. + +To Ephraim Prescott, who, as the days went on, found it more and more +difficult to sew harness on account of his rheumatism, Jethro was not +only a great man but a hero. For Cynthia was vaguely troubled at having +found one discontent. She was wont to entertain Ephraim on the days when +his hands failed him, when he sat sunning himself before his door; and +she knew that he was honest. + +"Who's b'en talkin' to you, Cynthia?" he cried. "Why, Jethro's the +biggest man I know, and the best. I don't like to think where some of us +would have b'en if he hadn't given us a lift." + +"But he has enemies, Cousin Eph," said Cynthia, still troubled. +"What great man hain't?" exclaimed the soldier. "Jethro's enemies hain't +worth thinkin' about." + +The thought that Jethro had enemies was very painful to Cynthia, and she +wanted to know who they were that she might show them a proper contempt +if she met them. Lem Hallowell brushed aside the subject with his usual +bluff humor, and pinched her cheek and told her not to trouble her head; +Amanda Hatch dwelt upon the inherent weakness in the human race, and the +Rev. Mr. Satterlee faced the question once, during a history lesson. The +nation's heroes came into inevitable comparison with Jethro Bass. Was +Washington so good a man? and would not Jethro have been as great as the +Father of his Country if he had had the opportunities? + +The answers sorely tried Mr. Satterlee's conscience, albeit he was not a +man of the world. It set him thinking. He liked Jethro, this man of +rugged power whose word had become law in the state. He knew best that +side of him which Cynthia saw; and--if the truth be told--as a native of +Coniston Mr. Satterlee felt in the bottom of his heart a certain pride in +Jethro. The minister's opinions well represented the attitude of his +time. He had not given thought to the subject--for such matters had came +to be taken for granted. A politician now was a politician, his ways and +standards set apart from those of other citizens, and not to be judged by +men without the pale of public life. Mr. Satterlee in his limited vision +did not then trace the matter to its source, did not reflect that Jethro +Bass himself was almost wholly responsible in that state for the +condition of politics and politicians. Coniston was proud of Jethro, +prouder of him than ever since his last great victory in the Legislature, +which brought the Truro Railroad through to Harwich and settled their +townsman more firmly than ever before in the seat of power. Every +statesman who drove into their little mountain village and stopped at +the tannery house made their blood beat faster. Senators came, and +representatives, and judges, and governors, "to git their orders," as +Rias Richardson briefly put it, and Jethro could make or unmake them at +a word. Each was scanned from the store where Rias now reigned supreme, +and from the harness shop across the road. Some drove away striving to +bite from their lips the tell-tale smile which arose in spite of them; +others tried to look happy, despite the sentence of doom to which they +had listened. + +Jethro Bass was indeed a great man to make such as these tremble or +rejoice. When he went abroad with Cynthia awheel or afoot, some took off +their hats--an unheard-of thing in Coniston. If he stopped at the store, +they scanned his face for the mood he was in before venturing their +remarks; if he lingered for a moment in front of the house of Amanda +Hatch, the whole village was advised of the circumstance before +nightfall. + +Two personages worthy of mention here visited the tannery house during +the years that Cynthia lived with Jethro. The Honorable Heth Sutton +drove over from Clovelly attended by his prime minister, Mr. Bijah Bixby. +The Honorable Heth did not attempt to conceal the smile with which he +went away, and he stopped at the store long enough to enable Rias to +produce certain refreshments from depths unknown to the United States +Internal Revenue authorities. Mr. Sutton shook hands with everybody, +including Jake Wheeler. Well he might. He came to Coniston a private +citizen, and drove away to all intents and purposes a congressman: the +darling wish of his life realized after heaven knows how many caucuses +and conventions of disappointment, when Jethro had judged it expedient +for one reason or another that a north countryman should go. By the time +the pair reached Brampton, Chamberlain Bixby was introducing his chief as +Congressman Sutton, and by this title he was known for many years to +come. + +Another day, when the snow lay in great billows on the ground and filled +the mountain valleys, when the pines were rusty from the long winter, two +other visitors drove to Coniston in a two-horse sleigh. The sun was +shining brightly, the wind held its breath, and the noon-day warmth was +almost like that of spring. Those who know the mountain country will +remember the joy of many such days. Cynthia, standing in the sun on the +porch, breathing deep of the pure air, recognized, as the sleigh drew +near, the somewhat portly gentleman driving, and the young woman beside +him regally clad in furs who looked patronizingly at the tannery house as +she took the reins. The young woman was Miss Cassandra Hopkins, and the +portly gentleman, the Honorable Alva himself, patron of the drama, who +had entered upon his governorship and now wished to be senator. + +"Jethro Bass home?" he called out. + +"Mr. Bass is home," answered Cynthia. The girl in the sleigh murmured +something, laughing a little, and Cynthia flushed. Mr. Hopkins gave a +somewhat peremptory knock at the door and was admitted by Millicent +Skinner, but Cynthia stood staring at Cassandra in the sleigh, some +instinct warning her of a coming skirmish. + +"Do you live here all the year round?" + +"Of course," said Cynthia. + +Miss Cassandra shrugged as though that were beyond her comprehension. + +"I'd die in a place like this," she said. "No balls, or theatres. +Doesn't your father take you around the state?" + +"My father's dead," said Cynthia. + +"Oh! Your name's Cynthia Wetherell, isn't it? You know Bob Worthington, +don't you? He's gone to Harvard now, but he was a great friend of mine +at Andover." + +Cynthia didn't answer. It would not be fair to say that she felt a pang, +though it might add to the romance of this narrative. But her dislike +for the girl in the sleigh decidedly increased. How was she, in her +inexperience, to know that the radiant beauty in furs was what the boys +at Phillips Andover called an "old stager." + +"So you live with Jethro Bass," was Miss Cassandra's next remark. "He's +rich enough to take you round the state and give you everything you +want." + +"I have everything I want," replied Cynthia. + +"I shouldn't call living here having everything I wanted," declared Miss +Hopkins, with a contemptuous glance at the tannery house. + +"I suppose you wouldn't," said Cynthia. + +Miss Hopkins was nettled. She was out of humor that day, besides she +shared some of her father's political ambition. If he went to +Washington, she went too. + +"Didn't you know Jethro Bass was rich?" she demanded, imprudently. "Why, +my father gave twenty thousand dollars to be governor, and Jethro Bass +must have got half of it." + +Cynthia's eyes were of that peculiar gray which, lighted by love or +anger, once seen, are never forgotten. One hand was on the dashboard of +the cutter, the other had seized the seat. Her voice was steady, and the +three words she spoke struck Miss Hopkins with startling effect. + +Miss Hopkins's breath was literally taken away, and for once she found no +retort. Let it be said for her that this was a new experience with a new +creature. A demure country girl turn into a wildcat before her very +eyes! Perhaps it was as well for both that the door of the house opened +and the Honorable Alva interrupted their talk, and without so much as a +glance at Cynthia he got hurriedly into the sleigh and drove off. When +Cynthia turned, the points of color still high in her cheeks and the +light still ablaze in her eyes, she surprised Jethro gazing at her from +the porch, and some sorrow she felt rather than beheld stopped the +confession on her lips. It would be unworthy of her even to repeat such +slander, and the color surged again into her face for very shame of her +anger. Cassandra Hopkins had not been worthy of it. + +Jethro did not speak, but slipped his hand into hers, and thus they stood +for a long time gazing at the snow fields between the pines on the +heights of Coniston. + +The next summer, was the first which the painter--pioneer of summer +visitors there--spent at Coniston. He was an unsuccessful painter, who +became, by a process which he himself does not to-day completely +understand, a successful writer of novels. As a character, however, he +himself confesses his inadequacy, and the chief interest in him for the +readers of this narrative is that he fell deeply in love with Cynthia +Wetherell at nineteen. It is fair to mention in passing that other young +men were in love with Cynthia at this time, notably Eben Hatch--history +repeating itself. Once, in a moment of madness, Eben confessed his love, +the painter never did: and he has to this day a delicious memory which +has made Cynthia the heroine of many of his stories. He boarded with +Chester Perkins, and he was humored by the village as a harmless but +amiable lunatic. + +The painter had never conceived that a New England conscience and a +temper of no mean proportions could dwell together in the body of a wood +nymph. When he had first seen Cynthia among the willows by Coniston +Water, he had thought her a wood nymph. But she scolded him for his +impropriety with so unerring a choice of words that he fell in love with +her intellect, too. He spent much of his time to the neglect of his +canvases under the butternut tree in front of Jethro's house trying to +persuade Cynthia to sit for her portrait; and if Jethro himself had not +overheard one of these arguments, the portrait never would have been +painted. Jethro focussed a look upon the painter. + +"Er--painter-man, be you? Paint Cynthy's picture?" + +"But I don't want to be painted, Uncle Jethro. I won't be painted!" + +"H-how much for a good picture? Er--only want the best--only want the +best." + +The painter said a few things, with pardonable heat, to the effect--well, +never mind the effect. His remarks made no impression whatever upon +Jethro. + +"Er---paint the picture--paint the picture, and then we'll talk about the +price. Er--wait a minute." + +He went into the house, and they heard him lumbering up the stairs. +Cynthia sat with her back to the artist, pretending to read, but +presently she turned to him. + +"I'll never forgive you--never, as long as I live," she cried, "and I +won't be painted!" + +"N-not to please me, Cynthy?" It was Jethro's voice. + +Her look softened. She laid down the book and went up to him on the +porch and put her hand on his shoulder. + +"Do you really want it so much as all that, Uncle Jethro?" she said. + +"Callate I do, Cynthy," he answered. He held a bundle covered with +newspaper in his hand, he looked down at Cynthia. + +He seated himself on the edge of the porch and for the moment seemed lost +in revery. Then he began slowly to unwrap the newspaper from the bundle: +there were five layers of it, but at length he disclosed a bolt of +cardinal cloth. + +"Call this to mind, Cynthy?" + +"Yes," she answered with a smile. + +"H-how's this for the dress, Mr. Painter-man?" said Jethro, with a pride +that was ill-concealed. + +The painter started up from his seat and took the material in his hands +and looked at Cynthia. He belonged to a city club where he was popular +for his knack of devising costumes, and a vision of Cynthia as the +daughter of a Doge of Venice arose before his eyes. Wonder of wonders, +the daughter of a Doge discovered in a New England hill village! The +painter seized his pad and pencil and with a few strokes, guided by +inspiration, sketched the costume then and there and held it up to +Jethro, who blinked at it in astonishment. But Jethro was suspicious of +his own sensations. + +"Er--well--Godfrey--g-guess that'll do." Then came the involuntary: "W- +wouldn't a-thought you had it in you. How about it, Cynthy?" and he held +it up for her inspection. + +"If you are pleased, it's all I care about, Uncle Jethro," she answered, +and then, her face suddenly flushing, "You must promise me on your honor +that nobody in Coniston shall know about it, 'Mr. Painter-man'." + +After this she always called him "Mr. Painter-man,"--when she was pleased +with him. + +So the cardinal cloth was come to its usefulness at last. It was +inevitable that Sukey Kittredge, the village seamstress, should be taken +into confidence. It was no small thing to take Sukey into confidence, +for she was the legitimate successor in more ways than one of Speedy +Bates, and much of Cynthia and the artist's ingenuity was spent upon +devising a form of oath which would hold Sukey silent. Sukey, however, +got no small consolation from the sense of the greatness of the trust +confided in her, and of the uproar she could make in Coniston if she +chose. The painter, to do him justice, was the real dressmaker, and did +everything except cut the cloth and sew it together. He sent to friends +of his in the city for certain paste jewels and ornaments, and one day +Cynthia stood in the old tannery shed--hastily transformed into a studio- +-before a variously moved audience. Sukey, having adjusted the last pin, +became hysterical over her handiwork, Millicent Skinner stared +openmouthed, words having failed her for once, and Jethro thrust his +hands in his pockets in a quiet ecstasy of approbation. + +"A-always had a notion that cloth'd set you off, Cynthy," said he, "er-- +next time I go to the state capital you come along--g-guess it'll +surprise 'em some." + +"I guess it would, Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, laughing. + +Jethro postponed two political trips of no small importance to be present +at the painting of that picture, and he would sit silently by the hour in +a corner of the shed watching every stroke of the brush. Never stood +Doge's daughter in her jewels and seed pearls amidst stranger +surroundings,--the beam, and the centre post around which the old white +horse had toiled in times gone by, and all the piled-up, disused +machinery of forgotten days. And never was Venetian lady more +unconscious of her environment than Cynthia. + +The portrait was of the head and shoulders alone, and when he had given +it the last touch, the painter knew that, for once in his life, he had +done a good thing. Never before; perhaps, had the fire of such +inspiration been given him. Jethro, who expressed himself in terms (for +him) of great enthusiasm, was for going to Boston immediately to purchase +a frame commensurate with the importance of such a work of art, but the +artist had his own views on that subject and sent to New York for this +also. + +The day after the completion of the picture a rugged figure in rawhide +boots and coonskin cap approached Chester Perkins's house, knocked at the +door, and inquired for the "Painter-man." It was Jethro. The "Painter- +man" forthwith went out into the rain behind the shed, where a somewhat +curious colloquy took place. + +"G-guess I'm willin' to pay you full as much as it's worth," said Jethro, +producing a cowhide wallet. "Er--what figure do you allow it comes to +with the frame?" + +The artist was past taking offence, since Jethro had long ago become for +him an engrossing study. + +"I will send you the bill for the frame, Mr. Bass," he said, "the picture +belongs to Cynthia." + +"Earn your livin' by paintin', don't you--earn your livin'?" + +The painter smiled a little bitterly. + +"No," he said, "if I did, I shouldn't be--alive. Mr. Bass, have you ever +done anything the pleasure of doing which was pay enough, and to spare?" + +Jethro looked at him, and something very like admiration came into the +face that was normally expressionless. + +He put up his wallet a little awkwardly, and held out his hand more +awkwardly. + +"You be more of a feller than I thought for," he said, and strode off +through the drizzle toward Coniston. The painter walked slowly to the +kitchen, where Chester Perkins and his wife were sitting down to supper. + +"Jethro got a mortgage on you, too?" asked Chester. + +The artist had his reward, for when the picture was hung at length in the +little parlor of the tannery house it became a source of pride to +Coniston second only to Jethro himself. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Time passes, and the engines of the Truro Railroad are now puffing in and +out of the yards of Worthington's mills in Brampton, and a fine layer of +dust covers the old green stage which has worn the road for so many years +over Truro Gap. If you are ever in Brampton, you can still see the +stage, if you care to go into the back of what was once Jim Sanborn's +livery stable, now owned by Mr. Sherman of the Brampton House. + +Conventions and elections had come and gone, and the Honorable Heth +Sutton had departed triumphantly to Washington, cheered by his neighbors +in Clovelly. Chamberlain Bixby was left in charge there, supreme. Who +could be more desirable as a member of Congress than Mr. Sutton, who had +so ably served his party (and Jethro) by holding the House against the +insurgents in the matter of the Truro Bill? Mr. Sutton was, moreover, a +gentleman, an owner of cattle and land, a man of substance whom lesser +men were proud to mention as a friend--a very hill-Rajah with stock in +railroads and other enterprises, who owed allegiance and paid tribute +alone to the Great Man of Coniston. + +Mr. Sutton was one who would make himself felt even in the capital of the +United States--felt and heard. And he had not been long in the Halls of +Congress before he made a speech which rang under the very dome of the +Capitol. So said the Brampton and Harwich papers, at least, though +rivals and detractors of Mr. Sutton declared that they could find no +matter in it which related to the subject of a bill, but that is neither +here nor there. The oration began with a lengthy tribute to the +resources and history of his state, and ended by a declaration that the +speaker was in Congress at no man's bidding, but as the servant of the +common people of his district. + +Under the lamp of the little parlor in the tannery house, Cynthia (who +has now arrived at the very serious age of nineteen) was reading the +papers to Jethro and came upon Mr. Sutton's speech. There were four +columns of it, but Jethro seemed to take delight in every word; and +portions of the noblest parts of it, indeed, he had Cynthia read over +again. Sometimes, in the privacy of his home, Jethro was known to +chuckle, and to Cynthia's surprise he chuckled more than usual that +evening. + +"Uncle Jethro," she said at length, when she had laid the paper down, "I +thought that you sent Mr. Sutton to Congress." + +Jethro leaned forward. + +"What put that into your head, Cynthy?" he asked. + +"Oh," answered the girl, "everybody says so,--Moses Hatch, Rias, and +Cousin Eph. Didn't you?" + +Jethro looked at her, as she thought, strangely. + +"You're too young to know anything about such things, Cynthy," he said, +"too young." + +"But you make all the judges and senators and congressmen in the state, I +know you do. Why," exclaimed Cynthia, indignantly, "why does Mr. Sutton +say the people elected him when he owes everything to you?" + +Jethro, arose abruptly and flung a piece of wood into the stove, and then +he stood with his back to her. Her instinct told her that he was +suffering, though she could not fathom the cause, and she rose swiftly +and drew him down into the chair beside her. + +"What is it?" she said anxiously. "Have you got rheumatism, too, like +Cousin Eph? All old men seem to have rheumatism." + +"No, Cynthy, it hain't rheumatism," he managed to answer; "wimmen folks +hadn't ought to mix up in politics. They--they don't understand 'em, +Cynthy." + +"But I shall understand them some day, because I am your daughter--now +that--now that I have only you, I am your daughter, am I not?" + +"Yes, yes," he answered huskily, with his hand on her hair. + +"And I know more than most women now," continued Cynthia, triumphantly. +"I'm going to be such a help to you soon--very soon. I've read a lot of +history, and I know some of the Constitution by heart. I know why old +Timothy Prescott fought in the Revolution--it was to get rid of kings, +wasn't it, and to let the people have a chance? The people can always be +trusted to do what is right, can't they, Uncle Jethro?" + +Jethro was silent, but Cynthia did not seem to notice that. After a +space she spoke again:-- + "I've been thinking it all out about you, Uncle Jethro." + +"A-about me?" + +"Yes, I know why you are able to send men to Congresa and make judges of +them. It's because the people have chosen you to do all that for them-- +you are so great and good." + +Jethro did not answer. + +Although the month was March, it was one of those wonderful still nights +that sometimes come in the mountain-country when the wind is silent in +the notches and the stars seem to burn nearer to the earth. Cynthia +awoke and lay staring for an instant at the red planet which hung over +the black and ragged ridge, and then she arose quickly and knocked at the +door across the passage. + +"Are you ill, Uncle Jethro?" + +"No," he answered, "no, Cynthy. Go to bed. Er--I was just thinkin'-- +thinkin', that's all, Cynthy." + +Though all his life he had eaten sparingly, Cynthia noticed that he +scarcely touched his breakfast the next morning, and two hours later he +went unexpectedly to the state capital. That day, too, Coniston was +clothed in clouds, and by afternoon a wild March snowstorm was sweeping +down the face of the mountain, piling against doorways and blocking the +roads. Through the storm Cynthia fought her way to the harness shop, for +Ephraim Prescott had taken to his bed, bound hand and foot by rheumatism. + +Much of that spring Ephraim was all but helpless, and Cynthia spent many +days nursing him and reading to him. Meanwhile the harness industry +languished. Cynthia and Ephraim knew, and Coniston guessed, that Jethro +was taking care of Ephraim, and strong as was his affection for Jethro +the old soldier found dependence hard to bear. He never spoke of it to +Cynthia, but he used to lie and dream through the spring days of what he +might have done if the war had not crippled him. For Ephraim Prescott, +like his grandfather, was a man of action--a keen, intelligent American +whose energy, under other circumstances, might have gone toward the +making of the West. Ephraim, furthermore, had certain principles which +some in Coniston called cranks; for instance, he would never apply for a +pension, though he could easily have obtained one. Through all his +troubles, he held grimly to the ideal which meant more to him than ease +and comfort,--that he had served his country for the love of it. + +With the warm weather he was able to be about again, and occasionally to +mend a harness, but Doctor Rowell shook his head when Jethro stopped his +buggy in the road one day to inquire about Ephraim. Whereupon Jethro +went on to the harness shop. The inspiration, by the way, had come from +Cynthia. + +"Er--Ephraim, how'd you like to, be postmaster? H-haven't any objections +to that kind of a job, hev you?" + +"Why no," said Ephraim. "We hain't agoin' to hev a post-office at +Coniston--air we?" + +"H-how'd you like to be postmaster at Brampton?" demanded Jethro, +abruptly. + +Ephraim dropped the trace he was shaving. + +"Postmaster at Brampton!" he exclaimed. + +"H-how'd you like it?" said Jethro again. + +"Well," said Ephraim, "I hain't got any objections." + +Jethro started out of the shop, but paused again at the door. + +"W-won't say nothin' about it, will you, Eph?" he inquired. + +"Not till I git it," answered Ephraim. The sorrows of three years were +suddenly lifted from his shoulders, and for an instant Ephraim wanted to +dance until he remembered the rheumatism and the Wilderness leg. Suddenly a +thought struck him, and he hobbled to the door and called out +after Jethro's retreating figure. Jethro returned. + +"Well?" he said, "well?" + +"What's the pay?" said Ephraim, in a whisper. + +Jethro named the sum instantly, also in a whisper. + +"You don't tell me!" said Ephraim, and sank stupefied into the chair in +front of the shop, where lately he had spent so much of his time. + +Jethro chuckled twice on his way home: he chuckled twice again to +Cynthia's delight at supper, and after supper he sent Millicent Skinner +to find Jake Wheeler. Jake as usual, was kicking his heels in front of +the store, talking to Rias and others about the coming Fourth of July +celebration at Brampton. Brampton, as we know, was famous for its Fourth +of July celebrations. Not neglecting to let it be known that Jethro had +sent for him, Jake hurried off through the summer twilight to the tannery +house, bowed ceremoniously to Cynthia under the butternut tree, and +discovered Jethro behind the shed. It was usually Jethro's custom to +allow the other man to begin the conversation, no matter how trivial the +subject--a method which had commended itself to Mr. Bixby and other minor +politicians who copied him. And usually the other man played directly +into Jethro's hands. Jake Wheeler always did, and now, to cover the +awkwardness of the silence, he began on the Brampton celebration. + +"They tell me Heth Sutton's a-goin' to make the address--seems prouder +than ever sence he went to Congress. I guess you'll tell him what to say +when the time comes, Jethro." + +"Er--goin' to Clovelly after wool this week, Jake?" + +"I kin go to-morrow," said Jake, scenting an affair. + +"Er--goin' to Clovelly after wool this week, Jake?" + +Jake reflected. He saw it was expedient that this errand should not +smell of haste. + +"I was goin' to see Cutter on Friday," he answered. + +"Er--if you should happen to meet Heth--" + +"Yes," interrupted Jake. + +"If by chance you should happen to meet Heth, or Bije" (Jethro knew that +Jake never went to Clovelly without a conference with one or the other of +these personages, if only to be able to talk about it afterward at the +store), "er--what would you say to 'em?" + +"Why," said Jake, scratching his head for the answer, "I'd tell him you +was at Coniston." + +"Think we'll have rain, Jake?" inquired Jethro, blandly. + +Jake wended his way back to the store, filled with renewed admiration for +the great man. Jethro had given him no instructions whatever, could deny +before a jury if need be that he had sent him (Jake) to Clovelly to tell +Heth Sutton to come to Coniston for instructions on the occasion of his +Brampton speech. And Jake was filled with a mysterious importance when +he took his seat once more in the conclave. + +Jake Wheeler, although in many respects a fool, was one of the most +efficient pack of political hounds that the state has ever known. By six +o'clook on Friday morning he was descending a brook valley on the +Clovelly side of the mountain, and by seven was driving between the +forest and river meadows of the Rajah's domain, and had come in sight of +the big white house with its somewhat pretentious bay-windows and Gothic +doorway; it might be dubbed the palace of these parts. The wide river +flowed below it, and the pastures so wondrously green in the morning sun +were dotted with fat cattle and sheep. Jake was content to borrow a cut +of tobacco from the superintendent and wonder aimlessly around the farm +until Mr. Sutton's family prayers and breakfast were accomplished. We +shall not concern ourselves with the message or the somewhat lengthy +manner in which it was delivered. Jake had merely dropped in by +accident, but the Rajah listened coldly while he picked his teeth, said +he didn't know whether he was going to Brampton or not--hadn't decided; +didn't know whether he could get to Coniston or not--his affairs were +multitudinous now. In short, he set Jake to thinking deeply as his horse +walked up the western heights of Coniston on the return journey. He had, +let it be repeated, a sure instinct once his nose was fairly on the +scent, and he was convinced that a war of great magnitude was in the air, +and he; Jake Wheeler, was probably the first in all the elate to discover +it! His blood leaped at the thought. + +The hill-Rajah's defiance, boiled down, could only mean one thing,--that +somebody with sufficient power and money was about to lock horns with +Jethro Bass. Not for a moment did Jake believe that, for all his pomp +and circumstance, the Honorable Heth Sutton was a big enough man to do +this. Jake paid to the Honorable Heth all the outward respect that his +high position demanded, but he knew the man through and through. He +thought of the Honorable Heth's reform speech in Congress, and laughed +loudly in the echoing woods. No, Mr. Sutton was not the man to lead a +fight. But to whom had he promised his allegiance? This question +puzzled Mr. Wheeler all the way home, and may it be said finally for many +days thereafter. He slid into Coniston in the dusk, big with impending +events, which he could not fathom. As to giving Jethro the careless +answer of the hill-Rajah, that was another matter. + +The Fourth of July came at last, nor was any contradiction made in the +Brampton papers that the speech of the Honorable Heth Sutton had been +cancelled. Instead, advertisemeuts appeared in the 'Brampton Clarion' +announcing the fact in large letters. When Cynthia read this +advertisement to Jethro, he chuckled again. They were under the +butternut tree, for the evenings were long now. + +"Will you take me to Brampton, Uncle Jethro?" said she, letting fall the +paper on her lap. + +"W-who's to get in the hay?" said Jethro. + +"Hay on the Fourth of July!" exclaimed Cynthia, "why, that's--sacrilege! +You'd much better come and hear Mr. Sutton's speech--it will do you good." + +Cynthia could see that Jethro was intensely amused, for his eyes had a +way of snapping on such occasions when he was alone with her. She was +puzzled and slightly offended, because, to tell the truth, Jethro had +spoiled her. + +"Very well, then," she said, "I'll go with the Painter-man." + +Jethro came and stood over her, his expression the least bit wistful. + +"Er--Cynthy," he said presently, "hain't fond of that Painter-man, be +you?" + +"Why, yes," said Cynthia, "aren't you?" + +"He's fond of you," said Jethro, "sh-shouldn't be surprised if he was in +love with you." + +Cynthia looked up at him, the corners of her mouth twitching, and then +she laughed. The Rev. Mr. Satterlee, writing his Sunday sermon in his +study, heard her and laid down his pen to listen. + +"Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, "sometimes I forget that you're a great, +wise man, and I think that you are just a silly old goose." + +Jethro wiped his face with his blue cotton handkerchief. + +"Then you hain't a-goin' to marry the Painter-man?" he said. + +"I'm not going to marry anybody," cried Cynthia, contritely; "I'm going +to live with you and take care of you all my life." + +On the morning of the Fourth, Cynthia drove to Brampton with the Painter- +man, and when he perceived that she was dreaming, he ceased to worry her +with his talk. He liked her dreaming, and stole many glances at her face +of which she knew nothing at all. Through the cool and fragrant woods, +past the mill-pond stained blue and white by the sky, and scented clover +fields and wayside flowers nodding in the morning air--Cynthia saw these +things in the memory of another journey to Brampton. On that Fourth her +father had been with her, and Jethro and Ephraim and Moses and Amanda +Hatch and the children. And how well she recalled, too, standing amidst +the curious crowd before the great house which Mr. Worthington had just +built. + +There are weeks and months, perhaps, when we do not think of people, when +our lives are full and vigorous, and then perchance a memory will bring +them vividly before us--so vividly that we yearn for them. There rose +before Cynthia now the vision of a boy as he stood on the Gothic porch of +the house, and how he had come down to the wondering country people with +his smile and his merry greeting, and how he had cajoled her into +lingering in front of the meeting-house. Had he forgotten her? With +just a suspicion of a twinge, Cynthia remembered that Janet Duncan she +had seen at the capital, whom she had been told was the heiress of the +state. When he had graduated from Harvard, Bob would, of course, marry +her. That was in the nature of things. + +To some the great event of that day in Brampton was to be the speech of +the Honorable Heth Sutton in the meeting-house at eleven; others (and +this party was quite as numerous) had looked forward to the base-ball +game between Brampton and Harwich in the afternoon. The painter would +have preferred to walk up meeting-house hill with Cynthia, and from the +cool heights look down upon the amphitheatre in which the town was built. +But Cynthia was interested in history, and they went to the meeting-house +accordingly, where she listened for an hour and a half to the patriotic +eloquence of the representative. The painter was glad to see and hear so +great a man in the hour of his glory, though so much as a fragment of the +oration does not now remain in his memory. In size, in figure, in +expression, in the sonorous tones of his voice, Mr. Sutton was everything +that a congressman should be. "The people," said Isaac D. Worthington in +presenting him, "should indeed be proud of such an able and high-minded +representative." We shall have cause to recall that word high-minded. + +Many persons greeted Cynthia outside the meetinghouse, for the girl +seemed genuinely loved by all who knew her--too much loved, her companion +thought, by certain spick-and-span young men of Brampton. But they ate +the lunch Cynthia had brought, far from the crowd, under the trees by +Coniston Water. It was she who proposed going to the base-ball game, and +the painter stifled a sigh and acquiesced. Their way brought them down +Brampton Street, past a house with great iron dogs on the lawn, so +imposing and cityfied that he hung back and asked who lived there. + +"Mr. Worthington," answered Cynthia, making to move on impatiently. + +Her escort did not think much of the house, but it interested him as the +type which Mr. Worthington had built. On that same Gothic porch, +sublimely unconscious of the covert stares and subdued comments of the +passers-by, the first citizen himself and the Honorable Heth Sutton might +be seen. Mr. Worthington, whose hawklike look had become more +pronounced, sat upright, while the Honorable Heth, his legs crossed, +filled every nook and cranny of an arm-chair, and an occasional fragrant +whiff from his cigar floated out to those on the tar sidewalk. Although +the pedestrians were but twenty feet away, what Mr. Worthington said +never reached them; but the Honorable Heth on public days carried his +voice of the Forum around with him. + +"Come on," said Cynthia, in one of those startling little tempers she was +subject to; "don't stand there like an idiot." + +Then the voice of Mr. Sutton boomed toward them. + +"As I understand, Worthington," they heard him say, "you want me to +appoint young Wheelock for the Brampton post-office." He stuck his thumb +into his vest pocket and recrossed his legs "I guess it can be arranged." + +When the painter at last overtook Cynthia the jewel paints he had so +often longed to catch upon a canvas were in her eyes. He fell back, +wondering how he could so greatly have offended, when she put her hand on +his sleeve. + +"Did you hear what he said about the Brampton postoffice?" she cried. + +"The Brampton post-office?" he repeated; dazed. + +"Yes," said Cynthia; "Uncle Jethro has promised it to Cousin Ephraim, who +will starve without it. Did you hear this man say he would give it to +Mr. Wheelock?" + +Here was a new Cynthia, aflame with emotions on a question of politics of +which he knew nothing. He did, understand, however, her concern for +Ephraim Prescott, for he knew that she loved the soldier. She turned +from the painter now with a gesture which he took to mean that his +profession debarred him from such vital subjects, and she led the way to +the fair-grounds. There he meekly bought tickets, and they found +themselves hurried along in the eager crowd toward the stand. + +The girl was still unaccountably angry over that mysterious affair of the +post-office, and sat with flushed cheeks staring out on the green field, +past the line of buggies and carryalls on the farther side to the +southern shoulder of Coniston towering, above them all. The painter, +already, beginning to love his New England folk, listened to the homely +chatter about him, until suddenly a cheer starting in one corner ran like +a flash of gunpowder around the field, and eighteen young men trotted +across the turf. Although he was not a devotee of sport, he noticed that +nine of these, as they took their places on the bench, wore blue,--the +Harwich Champions. Seven only of those scattering over the field wore +white; two young gentlemen, one at second base and the other behind the +batter, wore gray uniforms with crimson stockings, and crimson piping on +the caps, and a crimson H embroidered on the breast--a sight that made +the painter's heart beat a little faster, the honored livery of his own +college. + +"What are those two Harvard men doing here?" he asked. + +Cynthia, who was leaning forward, started, and turned to him a face which +showed him that his question had been meaningless. He repeated it. + +"Oh," said she, "the tall one, burned brick-red like an Indian, is Bob +Worthington." + +"He's a good type," the artist remarked. + +"You're right, Mister, there hain't a finer young feller anywhere," +chimed in Mr. Dodd, a portly person with a tuft of yellow beard on his +chin. Mr. Dodd kept the hardware store in Brampton. + +"And who," asked the painter, "is the bullet-headed little fellow, with +freckles and short red hair, behind the bat?" + +"I don't know," said Cynthia, indifferently. + +"Why," exclaimed Mr. Dodd, with just a trace of awe in his voice, "that's +Somers Duncan, son of Millionnaire Duncan down to the capital. I guess," +he added, "I guess them two will be the richest men in the state some +day. Duncan come up from Harvard with Bob." + +In a few minutes the game was in full swing, Brampton against Harwich, +the old rivalry in another form. Every advantage on either side awoke +thundering cheers from the partisans; beribboned young women sprang to +their feet and waved the Harwich blue at a home run, and were on the +verge of tears when the Brampton pitcher struck out their best batsman. +But beyond the facts that the tide was turning in Brampton's favor; that +young Mr. Worthington stopped a ball flying at a phenomenal speed and +batted another at a still more phenomenal speed which was not stopped; +that his name and Duncan's were mingled generously in the cheering, the +painter remembered little of the game. The exhibition of human passions +which the sight of it drew from an undemonstrative race: the shouting, +the comments wrung from hardy spirits off their guard, the joy and the +sorrow,--such things interested him more. High above the turmoil +Coniston, as through the ages, looked down upon the scene impassive. + +He was aroused from these reflections by an incident. Some one had +leaped over the railing which separated the stand from the field and +stood before Cynthia,--a tanned and smiling young man in gray and +crimson. His honest eyes were alight with an admiration that was +unmistakable to the painter--perhaps to Cynthia also, for a glow that +might have been of annoyance or anger, and yet was like the color of the +mountain sunrise, answered in her cheek. Mr. Worthington reached out a +large brown hand and seized the girl's as it lay on her lap. + +"Hello, Cynthia," he cried, "I've been looking for you all day. I +thought you might be here. Where were you?" + +"Where did you look?" answered Cynthia, composedly, withdrawing her hand. + +"Everywhere," said Bob, "up and down the street, all through the hotel. +I asked Lem Hallowell, and he didn't know where you were. I only got +here last night myself." + +"I was in the meeting-house," said Cynthia. + +"The meeting-house!" he echoed. "You don't mean to tell me that you +listened to that silly speech of Sutton's?" + +This remark, delivered in all earnestness, was the signal for uproarious +laughter from Mr. Dodd and others sitting near by, attending earnestly to +the conversation. + +Cynthia bit her lip. + +"Yes, I did," she said; "but I'm sorry now." + +"I should think you would be," said Bob; "Sutton's a silly, pompous old +fool. I had to sit through dinner with him. I believe I could represent +the district better myself." + +"By gosh!" exploded Mr. Dodd, "I believe you could!" + +But Bob paid no attention to him. He was looking at Cynthia. + +"Cynthia, you've grown up since I saw you," he said. "How's Uncle +Jethro. + +"He's well--thanks," said Cynthia, and now she was striving to put down a +smile. + +"Still running the state?" said Bob. "You tell him I think he ought to +muzzle Sutton. What did he send him down to Washington for?" + +"I don't know," said Cynthia. + +"What are you going to do after the game?" Bob demanded. + +"I'm going home of course," said Cynthia. + +His face fell. + +"Can't you come to the house for supper and stay for the fireworks?" he +begged pleadingly. "We'd be mighty glad to have your friend, too." + +Cynthia introduced her escort. + +"It's very good of you, Bob," she said, with that New England demureness +which at times became her so well, "but we couldn't possibly do it. And +then I don't like Mr. Sutton." + +"Oh, hang him!" exclaimed Bob. He took a step nearer to her. "Won't you +stay this once? I have to go West in the morning." + +"I think you are very lucky," said Cynthia. + +Bob scanned her face searchingly, and his own fell. + +"Lucky!" he cried, "I think it's the worst thing that ever happened to +me. My father's so hard-headed when he gets his mind set--he's making me +do it. He wants me to see the railroads and the country, so I've got to +go with the Duncans. I wanted to stay--" He checked himself, "I think +it's a blamed nuisance." + +"So do I," said a voice behind him. + +It was not the first time that Mr. Somers Duncan had spoken, but Bob +either had not heard him or pretended not to. Mr. Duncan's freckled face +smiled at them from the top of the railing, his eyes were on Cynthia's +face, and he had been listening eagerly. Mr. Duncan's chief +characteristic, beyond his freckles, was his eagerness--a quality +probably amounting to keenness. + +"Hello," said Bob, turning impatiently, "I might have known you couldn't +keep away. You're the cause of all my troubles--you and your father's +private car." + +Somers became apologetic. + +"It isn't my fault," he said; "I'm sure I hate going as much as you do. +It's spoiled my summer, too." + +Then he coughed and looked at Cynthia. + +"Well," said Bob, "I suppose I'll have to introduce you. This," he +added, dragging his friend over the railing, "is Mr. Somers Duncan." + +"I'm awfully glad to meet you, Miss. Wetherell," said Somers, fervently; +"to tell you the truth, I thought he was just making up yarns." + +"Yarns?" repeated Cynthia, with a look that set Mr. Duncan floundering. + +"Why, yes," he stammered. "Worthy said that you were up here, but I +thought he was crazy the way he talked--I didn't think--" + +"Think what?" inquired Cynthia, but she flushed a little. + +"Oh, rot, Somers!" said Bob, blushing furiously under his tan; "you ought +never to go near a woman--you're the darndest fool with 'em I ever saw." + +This time even the painter laughed outright, and yet he was a little +sorrowful, too, because he could not be even as these youths. But +Cynthia sat serene, the eternal feminine of all the ages, and it is no +wonder that Bob Worthington was baffled as he looked at her. He lapsed +into an awkwardness quite as bad as that of his friend. + +"I hope you enjoyed the game," he said at last, with a formality that was +not at all characteristic. + +Cynthia did not seem to think it worth while to answer this, so the +painter tried to help him out. + +"That was a fine stop you made, Mr. Worthington," he said; "wasn't it, +Cynthia?" + +"Everybody seemed to think so," answered Cynthia, cruelly; "but if I were +a man and had hands like that" (Bob thrust them in his pockets), "I +believe I could stop a ball, too." + +Somers laughed uproariously. + +"Good-by," said Bob, with uneasy abruptness, "I've got to go into the +field now. When can I see you?" + +"When you get back from the West--perhaps," said Cynthia. + +"Oh," cried Bob (they were calling him), "I must see you to-night!" He +vaulted over the railing and turned. "I'll come back here right after +the game," he said; "there's only one more inning." + +"We'll come back right after the game," repeated Mr. Duncan. + +Bob shot one look at him,--of which Mr. Duncan seemed blissfully +unconscious,--and stalked off abruptly to second base. + +The artist sat pensive for a few moments, wondering at the ways of women, +his sympathies unaccountably enlisted in behalf of Mr. Worthington. + +"Weren't you a little hard on him?" he said. + +For answer Cynthia got to her feet. + +"I think we ought to be going home," she said. + +"Going home!" he ejaculated in amazement. + +"I promised Uncle Jethro I'd be there for supper," and she led the way +out of the grand stand. + +So they drove back to Coniston through the level evening light, and when +they came to Ephraim Prescott's harness shop the old soldier waved at +them cheerily from under the big flag which he had hung out in honor of +the day. The flag was silk, and incidentally Ephraim's most valued +possession. Then they drew up before the tannery house, and Cynthia +leaped out of the buggy and held out her hand to the painter with a +smile. + +"It was very good of you to take me," she said. + +Jethro Bass, rugged, uncouth, in rawhide boots and swallowtail and +coonskin cap, came down from the porch to welcome her, and she ran toward +him with an eagerness that started the painter to wondering afresh over +the contrasts of life. What, he asked himself, had Fate in store for +Cynthia Wetherell? + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"H-have a good time, Cynthy?" said Jethro, looking down into her face. +Love had wrought changes in Jethro; mightier changes than he suspected, +and the girl did not know how zealous were the sentries of that love, how +watchful they were, and how they told him often and again whether her +heart, too, was smiling. + +"It was very gay," said Cynthia. + +"P-painter-man gay?" inquired Jethro. + +Cynthia's eyes were on the orange line of the sunset over Coniston, but +she laughed a little, indulgently. + +"Cynthy?" + +"Yes." + +"Er--that Painter-man hain't such a bad fellow--w-why didn't you ask him +in to supper?" + +"I'll give you three guesses," said Cynthia, but she did not wait for +them. "It was because I wanted to be alone with you. Milly's gone out, +hasn't she?" + +"G-gone a-courtin'," said Jethro. + +She smiled, and went into the house to see whether Milly had done her +duty before she left. It was characteristic of Cynthia not to have +mentioned the subject which was agitating her mind until they were seated +on opposite sides of the basswood table. + +"Uncle Jethro," she said, "I thought you told Mr. Sutton to give Cousin +Eph the Brampton post-office? Do you trust Mr. Sutton?" she demanded +abruptly. + +"Er--why?" said Jethro. "Why?" + +"Because I don't," she answered with conviction; "I think he's a big +fraud. He must have deceived you, Uncle Jethro. I can't see why you +ever sent him to Congress." + +Although Jethro was in no mood for mirth, he laughed in spite of himself, +for he was an American. His lifelong habit would have made him defend +Heth to any one but Cynthia. + +"'D you see Heth, Cynthy?" he asked. + "Yes," replied the girl, disgustedly, "I should say I did, but not to +speak to him. He was sitting on Mr. Worthington's porch, and I heard him +tell Mr. Worthington he would give the Brampton post-office to Dave +Wheelock. I don't want you to think that I was eavesdropping," she added +quickly; "I couldn't help hearing it." + +Jethro did not answer. + +"You'll make him give the post-office to Cousin Eph, won't you, Uncle +Jethro?" + +"Yes;" said Jethro, very simply, "I will." He meditated awhile, and then +said suddenly, "W-won't speak about it--will you, Cynthy?" + +"You know I won't," she answered. + +Let it not be thought by any chance that Coniston was given over to +revelry and late hours, even on the Fourth of July. By ten o'clock the +lights were out in the tannery house, but Cynthia was not asleep. She +sat at her window watching the shy moon peeping over Coniston ridge, and +she was thinking, to be exact, of how much could happen in one short day +and how little in a long month. She was aroused by the sound of wheels +and the soft beat of a horse's hoofs on the dirt road: then came stifled +laughter, and suddenly she sprang up alert and tingling. Her own name +came floating to her through the darkness. + +The next thing that happened will be long remembered in Coniston. A +tentative chord or two from a guitar, and then the startled village was +listening with all its might to the voices of two young men singing "When +I first went up to Harvard"--probably meant to disclose the identity of +the serenaders, as if that were necessary! Coniston, never having +listened to grand opera, was entertained and thrilled, and thought the +rendering of the song better on the whole than the church choir could +have done it, or even the quartette that sung at the Brampton +celebrations behind the flowers. Cynthia had her own views on the +subject. + +There were five other songs--Cynthia remembers all of them, although she +would not confess such a thing. "Naughty, naughty Clara," was another +one; the other three were almost wholly about love, some treating it +flippantly, others seriously--this applied to the last one, which had +many farewells in it. Then they went away, and the crickets and frogs on +Coniston Water took up the refrain. + +Although the occurrence was unusual,--it might almost be said epoch- +making,--Jethro did not speak of it until they had reached the sparkling +heights of Thousand Acre Hill the next morning. Even then he did not +look at Cynthia. + +"Know who that was last night, Cynthy?" he inquired, as though the matter +were a casual one. + +"I believe," said Cynthia heroically, "I believe it was a boy named +Somers Duncan-and Bob Worthington." + +"Er--Bob Worthington," repeated Jethro, but said nothing more. + +Of course Coniston, and presently Brampton, knew that Bob Worthington had +serenaded Cynthia--and Coniston and Brampton talked. It is noteworthy +that (with the jocular exceptions of Ephraim and Lem Hallowell) they did +not talk to the girl herself. The painter had long ago discovered that +Cynthia was an individual. She had good blood in her: as a mere child +she had shouldered the responsibility of her father; she had a natural +aptitude for books--a quality reverenced in the community; she visited, +as a matter of habit; the sick and the unfortunate; and lastly (perhaps +the crowning achievement) she had bound Jethro Bass, of all men, with the +fetters of love. Of course I have ended up by making her a paragon, +although I am merely stating what people thought of her. Coniston +decided at once that she was to marry the heir to the Brampton Mills. + +But the heir had gone West, and as the summer wore on, the gossip died +down. Other and more absorbing gossip took its place: never distinctly +formulated, but whispered; always wishing for more definite news that +never came. The statesmen drove out from Brampton to the door of the +tannery house, as usual, only it was remarked by astute observers and +Jake Wheeler that certain statesmen did not come who had been in the +habit of coming formerly. In short, those who made it a custom to +observe such matters felt vaguely a disturbance of some kind. The organs +of the people felt it, and became more guarded in their statements. What +no one knew, except Jake and a few in high places, was that a war of no +mean magnitude was impending. + +There were three men in the State--and perhaps only three--who realized +from the first that all former political combats would pale in comparison +to this one to come. Similar wars had already started in other states, +and when at length they were fought out another twist had been given to +the tail of a long-suffering Constitution; political history in the +United States had to be written from an entirely new and unforeseen +standpoint, and the unsuspecting people had changed masters. + +This was to be a war of extermination of one side or the other. No +quarter would be given or asked, and every weapon hitherto known to +politics would be used. Of the three men who realized this, and all that +would happen if one side or the other were victorious, one was Alexander +Duncan, another Isaac D. Worthington, and the third was Jethro Bass. + +Jethro would never have been capable of being master of the state had he +not foreseen the time when the railroads, tired of paying tribute, would +turn and try to exterminate the boss. The really astonishing thing about +Jethro's foresight (known to few only) was that he perceived clearly that +the time would come when the railroads and other aggregations of capital +would exterminate the boss, or at least subserviate him. This alone, the +writer thinks, gives him some right to greatness. And Jethro Bass made +up his mind that the victory of the railroads, in his state at least, +should not come in his day. He would hold and keep what he had fought +all his life to gain. + +Jethro knew, when Jake Wheeler failed to bring him a message back from +Clovelly, that the war had begun, and that Isaac D. Worthington, +commander of the railroad forces in the field, had captured his pawn, +the hill-Rajah. By getting through to Harwich, the Truro had made a sad +muddle in railroad affairs. It was now a connecting link; and its +president, the first citizen of Brampton, a man of no small importance +in the state. This fact was not lost upon Jethro, who perceived clearly +enough the fight for consolidation that was coming in the next +Legislature. + +Seated on an old haystack on Thousand Acre Hill, that sits in turn on the +lap of Coniston, Jethro smiled as he reflected that the first trial of +strength in this mighty struggle was to be over (what the unsuspecting +world would deem a trivial matter) the postmastership of Brampton. And +Worthington's first move in the game would be to attempt to capture for +his faction the support of the Administration itself. + +Jethro thought the view from Thousand Acre Hill, especially in September, +to be one of the sublimest efforts of the Creator. It was September, +first of the purple months in Coniston, not the red-purple of the Maine +coast, but the blue-purple of the mountain, the color of the bloom on the +Concord grape. His eyes, sweeping the mountain from the notch to the +granite ramp of the northern buttress, fell on the weather-beaten little +farmhouse in which he had lived for many years, and rested lovingly on +the orchard, where the golden early apples shone among the leaves. But +Jethro was not looking at the apples. + +"Cynthy," he called out abruptly, "h-how'd you like to go to Washington?" + +"Washington!" exclaimed Cynthia. "When?" + +"N-now--to-morrow." Then he added uneasily, "C-can't you get ready?" + +Cynthia laughed. + +"Why, I'll go to-night, Uncle Jethro," she answered. + +"Well," he said admiringly, "you hain't one of them clutterin' females. +We can get some finery for you in New York, Cynthy. D-don't want any of +them town ladies to put you to shame. Er--not that they would," he added +hastily--"not that they would." + +Cynthia climbed up beside him on the haystack. + +"Uncle Jethro," she said solemnly, "when you make a senator or a judge, +I don't interfere, do I?" + +He looked at her uneasily, for there were moments when he could not for +the life of him make out her drift. + +"N-no," he assented, "of course not, Cynthy." + +"Why is it that I don't interfere?" + +"I callate," answered Jethro, still more uneasily, "I callate it's +because you're a woman." + +"And don't you think," asked Cynthia, "that a woman ought to know what +becomes her best?" + +Jethro reflected, and then his glance fell on her approvingly. + +"G-guess you're right, Cynthy," he said. "I always had some success in +dressin' up Listy, and that kind of set me up." + +On such occasions he spoke of his wife quite simply. He had been +genuinely fond of her, although she was no more than an episode in his +life. Cynthia smiled to herself as they walked through the orchard to +the place where the horse was tied, but she was a little remorseful. This +feeling, on the drive homeward, was swept away by sheer elation at +the prospect of the trip before her. She had often dreamed of the great +world beyond Coniston, and no one, not even Jethro, had guessed the +longings to see it which had at times beset her. Often she had dropped +her book to summon up a picture of what a great city was like, to +reconstruct the Boston of her early childhood. She remembered the Mall, +where she used to walk with her father, and the row of houses where the +rich dwelt, which had seemed like palaces. Indeed, when she read of +palaces, these houses always came to her mind. And now she was to behold +a palace even greater than these,--and the house where the President +himself dwelt. But why was Jethro going to Washington? + +As if in answer to the question, he drove directly to the harness shop +instead of to the tannery house. Ephraim greeted them from within with a +cheery hail, and hobbled out and stood between the wheels of the buggy. + +"That bridle bust again?" he inquired. + +"Er--Ephraim," said Jethro, "how long since you b'en away from Coniston-- +how long?" + +Ephraim reflected. + +"I went to Harwich with Moses before that bad spell I had in March," he +answered. + +Cynthia smiled from pure happiness, for she began to see the drift of +things now. + +"H-how long since you've b'en in foreign parts?" said Jethro. + +"'Sixty-five," answered Ephraim, with astonishing promptness. + +"Er--like to go to Washington with us to-morrow like to go to +Washington?" + +Ephraim gasped, even as Cynthia had. + +"Washin'ton!" he ejaculated. + +"Cynthy and I was thinkin' of takin' a little trip," said Jethro, almost +apologetically, "and we kind of thought we'd like to have you with us. +Didn't we, Cynthy? Er--we might see General Grant," he added meaningly. + +Ephraim was a New Englander, and not an adept in expressing his emotions. +Both Cynthia and Jethro felt that he would have liked to have said +something appropriate if he had known how. What he actually said was:-- +"What time to-morrow?" + +"C-callate to take the nine o'clock from Brampton," said Jethro. + +"I'll report for duty at seven," said Ephraim, and it was then he +squeezed the hand that he found in his. He watched them calmly enough +until they had disappeared in the barn behind the tannery. house, and +then his thoughts became riotous. Rumors had been rife that summer, +prophecies of changes to come, and the resignation of the old man who had +so long been postmaster at Brampton was freely discussed--or rather the +matter of his successor. As the months passed, Ephraim had heard David +Wheelock mentioned with more and more assurance for the place. He had +had many nights when sleep failed him, but it was characteristic of the +old soldier that he had never once broached the subject since Jethro had +spoken to him two months before. Ephraim had even looked up the law to +see if he was eligible, and found that he was, since Coniston had no +post-office, and was within the limits of delivery of the Brampton +office. + +The next morning Coniston was treated to a genuine surprise. After +loading up at the store, Lem Hallowell, instead of heading for Brampton, +drove to the tannery house, left his horses standing as he ran in, and +presently emerged with a little cowhide trunk that bore the letter W. +Following the trunk came a radiant Cynthia, following Cynthia, Jethro +Bass in a stove-pipe hat, with a carpetbag, and hobbling after Jethro, +Ephraim Prescott, with another carpet-bag. It was remarked in the buzz +of query that followed the stage's departure that Ephraim wore the blue +suit and the army hat with a cord around it which he kept for occasions. +Coniston longed to follow them, in spirit at least, but even Milly +Skinner did not know their destination. + +Fortunately we can follow them. At Brampton station they got into the +little train that had just come over Truro Pass, and steamed, with many +stops, down the valley of Coniston Water until it stretched out into a +wide range of shimmering green meadows guarded by blue hills veiled in +the morning haze. Then, bustling Harwich, and a wait of half an hour +until the express from the north country came thundering through the Gap; +then a five-hours' journey down the broad river that runs southward +between the hills, dinner in a huge station amidst a pleasant buzz of +excitement and the ringing of many bells. Then into another train, +through valleys and factory towns and cities until they came, at +nightfall, to the metropolis itself. + +Cynthia will always remember the awe with which that first view of New +York inspired her, and Ephraim confessed that he, too, had felt it, when +he had first seen the myriad lights of the city after the long, dusty +ride from the hills with his regiment. For all the flags and bunting it +had held in '61, Ephraim thought that city crueller than war itself. And +Cynthia thought so too, as she clung to Jethro's arm between the +carriages and the clanging street-cars, and looked upon the riches and +poverty around her. There entered her soul that night a sense of that +which is the worst cruelty of all--the cruelty of selfishness. Every man +going his own pace, seeking to gratify his own aims and desires, +unconscious and heedless of the want with which he rubs elbows. Her +natural imagination enhanced by her life among the hills, the girl +peopled the place in the street lights with all kinds of strange evil- +doers of whose sins she knew nothing, adventurers, charlatans, alert +cormorants, who preyed upon the unwary. She shrank closer to Ephraim +from a perfumed lady who sat next to her in the car, and was thankful +when at last they found themselves in the corridor of the Astor House +standing before the desk. + +Hotel clerks, especially city ones, are supernatural persons. This one +knew Jethro, greeted him deferentially as Judge Bass, and dipped the pen +in the ink and handed it to him that he might register. By half-past +nine Cynthia was dreaming of Lem Hallowell and Coniston, and Lem was +driving a yellow street-car full of queer people down the road to +Brampton. + +There were few guests in the great dining room when they breakfasted at +seven the next morning. New York, in the sunlight, had taken on a more +kindly expression, and those who were near by smiled at them and seemed +full of good-will. Persons smiled at them that day as they walked the +streets or stood spellbound before the shop windows, and some who saw +them felt a lump rise in their throats at the memories they aroused of +forgotten days: the three seemed to bring the very air of the hills with +them into that teeming place, and many who, had come to the city with +high hopes, now in the shackles of drudgery; looked after them. They +were a curious party, indeed: the straight, dark girl with the light in +her eyes and the color in her cheeks; the quaint, rugged figure of the +elderly man in his swallow-tail and brass buttons and square-toed, +country boots; and the old soldier hobbling along with the aid of his +green umbrella, clad in the blue he had loved and suffered for. Had they +remained until Sunday, they might have read an amusing account of their +visit,--of Jethro's suppers of crackers and milk at the Astor House, +of their progress along Broadway. The story was not lacking in pathos, +either, and in real human feeling, for the young reporter who wrote it +had come, not many years before, from the hills himself. But by that +time they had accomplished another marvellous span in their journey, +and were come to Washington itself. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Cynthia was deprived, too, of that thrilling first view of the capital +from the train which she had pictured, for night had fallen when they +reached Washington likewise. As the train slowed down, she leaned a +little out of the window and looked at the shabby houses and shabby +streets revealed by the flickering lights in the lamp-posts. Finally +they came to a shabby station, were seized upon by a grinning darky +hackman, who would not take no for an answer, and were rattled away to +the hotel. Although he had been to Washington but once in his life +before, as a Lincoln elector, Jethro was greeted as an old acquaintance +by this clerk also. + +"Glad to see you, Judge," said he, genially. "Train late? You've come +purty nigh, missin' supper." + +A familiar of great men, the clerk was not offended when he got no +response to his welcome. Cynthia and Ephraim, intent on getting rid of +some of the dust of their journey, followed the colored hallboy up the +stairs. Jethro stood poring over the register, when a distinguished- +looking elderly gentleman with a heavy gray beard and eyes full of +shrewdness and humor paused at the desk to ask a question. + +"Er--Senator?" + +The senator (for such he was, although he did not represent Jethro's +state) turned and stared, and then held out his hand with unmistakable +warmth. + +"Jethro Bass," he exclaimed, "upon my word! What are you doing in +Washington?" + +Jethro took the hand, but he did not answer the question. + +"Er--Senator--when can I see the President?" + +"Why," answered the senator, somewhat taken aback, "why, to-night, if you +like. I'm going to the White House in a few minutes and I think I can +arrange it." + +"T-to-morrow afternoon--t-to-morrow afternoon?" + +The senator cast his eye over the swallow-tail coat and stove-pipe hat +tilted back, and laughed. + +"Thunder!" he exclaimed, "you haven't changed a bit. I'm beginning to +look like an old man; but that milk-and-crackers diet seems to keep you +young, Jethro. I'll fix it for to-morrow afternoon." + +"W-what time--two?" + +"Well, I'll fix it for two to-morrow afternoon. I never could understand +you, Jethro; you don't do things like other men. Do I smell gunpowder? +What's up now--what do you want to see Grant about?" + +Jethro cast his eye around the corridor, where a few men were taking +their ease after supper, and looked at the senator mysteriously. + +"Any place where we can talk?" he demanded. + +"We can go into the writing room and shut the door," answered the +senator, more amused than ever. + +When Cynthia came downstairs, Jethro was standing with the gentleman in +the corridor leading to the dining room, and she heard the gentleman say +as he took his departure:-- + "I haven't forgotten what you did for us in '70, Jethro. I'll go right +along and see to it now." + +Cynthia liked the gentleman's looks, and rightly surmised that he was one +of the big men of the nation. She was about to ask Jethro his name when +Ephraim came limping along and put the matter out of her mind, and the +three went into the almost empty dining room. There they were served +with elaborate attention. by a darky waiter who had, in some mysterious +way, learned Jethro's name and title. Cynthia reflected with pride that +Jethro, too, was one of the nation's great men, who could get anything he +wanted simply by coming to the capital and asking for it. + +Ephraim was very much excited on finding himself in Washington, the sight +of the place reviving in his mind a score of forgotten incidents of the +war. After supper they found seats in a corner of the corridor, where a +number of people were scattered about, smoking and talking. It did not +occur to Jethro or Cynthia, or even to Ephraim, that these people were +all of the male sex, and on the other hand the guests of the hotel were +apparently used once in a while to see a lady from the country seated +there. At any rate, Cynthia was but a young girl, and her two +companions, however unusual their appearance, were clearly most +respectable. Jethro, his hands in his pockets and his hat tilted, sat on +the small of his back rapt in meditation; Cpnthia, her head awhirl, +looked around her with sparkling eyes; while Ephraim was smoking a cigar +he had saved for just such a festal occasion. He did not see the stout +man with the button and corded hat until he was almost on top of him. + +"Eph Prescott, I believe!" exclaimed the stout one. "How be you, +Comrade?" + +Heedless of his rheumatism, Ephraim sprang to his feet and dropped the +cigar, which the stout one picked up with much difficulty. + +"Well," said Ephraim, in a voice that shook with unwonted emotion, "you +kin skin me if it ain't Amasy Beard!" His eye travelled around Amasa's +figure. "Wouldn't a-knowed you, I swan, I wouldn't. Why, when I seen +you last, Amasy, your stomach was havin' all it could do to git hold of +your backbone." + +Cynthia laughed outright, and even Jethro sat up and smiled. + +"When was it?" said Amasa, still clinging on to Ephraim's hand and +incidentally to the cigar, which Ephraim had forgotten; "Beaver Creek, +wahn't it?" + +"July 10, 1863," said Ephraim, instantly. + +Gradually they reached a sitting position, the cigar was restored to its +rightful owner, and Mr. Beard was introduced, with some ceremony, to +Cynthia and Jethro. From Beaver Creek they began to fight the war over +again, backward and forward, much to Cynthia's edification, when her +attention was distracted by the entrance of a street band of wind +instruments. As the musicians made their way to another corner and began +tuning up, she glanced mischievously at Jethro, for she knew his +peculiarities by heart. One of these was a most violent detestation of +any but the best music. He had often given her this excuse, laughingly, +for not going to meeting in Coniston. How he had come by his love for +good music, Cynthia never knew--he certainly had not heard much of it. + +Suddenly a great volume of sound filled the corridor, and the band burst +forth into what many supposed to be "The Watch on the Rhine." Some +people were plainly delighted; the veterans, once recovered from their +surprise, shouted their reminiscences above the music, undismayed; Jethro +held on to himself until the refrain, when he began to squirm, and as +soon as the tune was done and the scattering applause had died down, he +reached over and grabbed Mr. Amasa Beard by the knee. Mr. Beard did not +immediately respond, being at that moment behind logworks facing a rebel +charge; he felt vaguely that some one was trying to distract his +attention, and in some lobe of his brain was registered the fact that +that particular knee had gout in it. Jethro increased the pressure, and +then Mr. Beard abandoned his logworks and swung around with a snort of +pain. + +"H-how much do they git for that noise--h-how much do they git?" + +Mr. Beard tenderly lifted the hand from his knee and stared at Jethro +with his mouth open, like a man aroused from a bad dream. + +"Who? What noise?" he demanded. + +"The Dutchmen," said Jethro. "H-how much do they git for that noise?" + +"Oh!" Mr. Beard glanced at the band and began to laugh. He thought +Jethro a queer customer, no doubt, but he was a friend of Comrade +Prescott's. "By gum!" said Mr. Beard, "I thought for a minute a rebel +chain-shot had took my leg off. Well, sir, I guess that band gets about +two dollars. They've come in here every evening since I've been at the +hotel." + +"T-two dollars? Is that the price? Er--you say two dollars is their +price?" + +"Thereabouts," answered Mr. Beard, uneasily. Veteran as he was, +Jethro's appearance and earnestness were a little alarming. + +"You say two dollars is their price?" + +"Thereabouts," shouted Mr. Beard, seating himself on the edge of his +chair. + +But Jethro paid no attention to him. He rose, unfolding by degrees his +six feet two, and strode diagonally across the corridor toward the band +leader. Conversation was hushed at the sight of his figure, a titter ran +around the walls, but Jethro was oblivious to these things. He drew a +great calfskin wallet from an inside pocket of his coat, and the band +leader, a florid Geranan, laid down his instrument and made an elaborate +bow. Jethro waited until the man had become upright and then held out a +two-dollar bill. + +"Is that about right for the performance?" he said "is that about right?" + +"Ja, mein Herr," said the man, nodding vociferously. + +"I want to pay what's right--I want to pay what's right," said Jethro. + +"I thank you very much, sir," said the leader, finding his English, "you +haf pay for all." + +"P-paid for everything--everything to-night?" demanded Jethro. + +The leader spread out his hands. + +"You haf pay for one whole evening," said he, and bowed again. + +"Then take it, take it," said Jethro, pushing the bill into the man's +palm; "but don't you come back to-night--don't you come back to-night." + +The amazed leader stared at Jethro--and words failed him. There was +something about this man that compelled him to obey, and he gathered up +his followers and led the way silently out of the hotel. Roars of +laughter and applause arose on all sides; but Jethro was as one who heard +them not as he made his way back to his seat again. + +"You did a good job, my friend," said Mr. Beard, approvingly. "I'm going +to take Eph Prescott down the street to see some of the boys. Won't you +come, too?" + +Mr. Beard doubtless accepted it as one of the man's eccentricities that +Jethro did not respond to him, for without more ado he departed arm in +arm with Ephraim. Jethro was looking at Cynthia, who was staring toward +the desk at the other end of the corridor, her face flushed, and her +fingers closed over the arms of her chair. It never occurred to Jethro +that she might have been embarrassed. + +"W-what's the matter, Cynthy?" he asked, sinking into the chair beside +her. + +Her breath caught sharply, but she tried to smile at him. He did not +discover what was the matter until long afterward, when he recalled that +evening to mind. Jethro was a man used to hotel corridors, used to +sitting in an attitude that led the unsuspecting to believe he was half +asleep; but no person of note could come or go whom he did not remember. +He had seen the distinguished party arrive at the desk, preceded by a +host of bell-boys with shawls and luggage. On the other hand, some of +the distinguished party had watched the proceeding of paying off the band +with no little amusement. Miss Janet Duncan had giggled audibly, her +mother had smiled, while her father and Mr. Worthington had pretended to +be deeply occupied with the hotel register. Somers was not there. Bob +Worthington laughed heartily with the rest until his eye, travelling down +the line of Jethro's progress, fell on Cynthia, and now he was striding +across the floor toward them. And even in the horrible confusion of that +moment Cynthia had a vagrant thought that his clothes had an enviable cut +and became him remarkably. + +"Well, of all things, to find you here!" he cried; "this is the best luck +that ever happened. I am glad to see you. I was going to steal away to +Brampton for a couple of days before the term opened, and I meant to look +you up there. And Mr. Bass," said Bob, turning to Jethro, "I'm glad to +see you too." + +Jethro looked at the young man and smiled and held out his hand. It was +evident that Bob was blissfully unaware that hostilities between powers +of no mean magnitude were about to begin; that the generals themselves +were on the ground, and that he was holding treasonable parley with the +enemy. The situation appealed to Jethro, especially as he glanced at the +backs of the two gentlemen facing the desk. These backs seemed to him +full of expression. "Th-thank you, Bob, th-thank you," he answered. + +"I like the way you fixed that band," said Bob; "I haven't laughed as +much for a year. You hate music, don't you? I hope you'll forgive that +awful noise we made outside of your house last July, Mr. Bass." + +"You--you make that noise, Bob, you--you make that?" + +"Well," said Bob, "I'm afraid I did most of it. There was another fellow +that helped some and played the guitar. It was pretty bad," he added, +with a side glance at Cynthia, "but it was meant for a compliment." + +"Oh," said she, "it was meant for a compliment, was it?" + +"Of course," he answered, glad of the opportunity to turn his attention +entirely to her. "I was for slipping away right after supper, but my +father headed us off." + +"Slipping away?" repeated Cynthia. + +"You see, he had a kind of a reception and fireworks afterward. We +didn't get away till after nine, and then I thought I'd have a lecture +when I got home." + +"Did you?" asked Cynthia. + +"No," said Bob, "he didn't know where I'd been." + +Cynthia felt the blood rush to her temples, but by habit and instinct she +knew when to restrain herself. + +"Would it have made any difference to him where you had been?" she asked +calmly enough. + +Bob had a presentiment that he was on dangerous ground. This new and +self-possessed Cynthia was an enigma to him--certainly a fascinating +enigma. + +"My father world have thought I was a fool to go off serenading," he +answered, flushing. Bob did not like a lie; he knew that his father +would have been angry if he had heard he had gone to Coniston; he felt, +in the small of his back, that his father was angry mow, and guessed the +reason. + +She regarded him gravely as he spoke, and then her eyes left his face and +became fixed upon an object at the far end of the corridor. Bob turned +in time to see Janet Duncan swing on her heel and follow her mother up +the stairs. He struggled to find words to tide over what he felt was an +awkward moment. + +"We've had a fine trip;" he said, "though I should much rather have +stayed at home. The West is a wonderful country, with its canons and +mountains and great stretches of plain. My father met us in Chicago, and +we came here. I don't know why, because Washington's dead at this time +of the year. I suppose it must be on account of politics." Looking at +Jethro with a sudden inspiration, "I hadn't thought of that." + +Jethro had betrayed no interest in the conversation. He was seated, as +usual, on the small of his back. But he saw a young man of short +stature, with a freckled face and close-cropped, curly red hair, come +into the corridor by another entrance; he saw Isaac D. Worthington draw +him aside and speak to him, and he saw the young man coming towards them. + +"How do you do, Miss Wetherell?" cried the young man joyously, while +still ten feet away, "I'm awfully glad to see you, upon my word; I am. +How long are you going to be in Washington?" + +"I don't know, Mr. Duncan," answered Cynthia. + +"Did Worthy know you were here?" demanded Mr. Duncan, suspiciously. + +"He did when he saw me," said Cynthia, smiling. + +"Not till then?" asked Mr. Duncan. "Say, Worthy; your father wants to +see you right away. I'm going to be in Washington a day or two--will you +go walking with me to-morrow morning, Miss Wetherell?" + +"She's going walking with me," said Bob, not in the best of tempers. + +"Then I'll go along," said Mr. Duncan, promptly. + +By this time Cynthia got up and was holding out her hand to Bob +Worthington. "I'm not going walking with either of you," she said "I +have another engagement. And I think I'll have to say good night, +because I'm very tired." + +"When can I see you?" Both the young men asked the question at once. + +"Oh, you'll have plenty of chances," she answered, and was gone. + +The young men looked at each other somewhat blankly; and then down at +Jethro, who did not seem to know that they were there, and then they made +their way toward the desk. But Isaac D. Worthington and his friends had +disappeared. + +A few minutes later the distinguished-looking senator with whom Jethro +had been in conversation before supper entered the hotel. He seemed +preoccupied, and heedless of the salutations he received; but when he +caught sight of Jethro he crossed the corridor rapidly and sat down +beside him. Jethro did not move. The corridor was deserted now, save +for the two. + +"Bass," began the senator, "what's the row up in your state?" + +"H-haven't heard of any row," said Jethro. + +"What did you come to Washington for?" demanded the senator, somewhat +sharply. + +"Er--vacation," said Jethro, "vacation--to show my gal, Cynthy, the +capital." + +"Now see here, Bass," said the senator, "I don't forget what happened in +'70. I don't object to wading through a swarm of bees to get a little +honey for a friend, but I think I'm entitled to know why he wants it." + +"G-got the honey?" asked Jethro. + +The senator took off his hat and wiped his brow, and then he stole a look +at Jethro, with apparently barren results. + +"Jethro," he said, "people say you run that state of yours right up to +the handle. What's all this trouble about a two-for-a-cent +postmastership?" + +"H-haven't heard of any trouble," said Jethro. + +"Well, there is trouble," said the senator, losing patience at last. +When I told Grant you were here and mentioned that little Brampton matter +to him,--it didn't seem much to me,--the bees began to fly pretty thick, +I can tell you. I saw right away that somebody had been stirring 'em up. +It looks to me, Jethro," said the senator gravely, "it looks to me as if +you had something of a rebellion on your hands." + +"W-what'd Grant say?" Jethro inquired. + +"Well, he didn't say a great deal--he isn't much of a talker, you know, +but what he did say was to the point. It seems that your man, Prescott, +doesn't come from Brampton, in the first place, and Grant says that while +he likes soldiers, he hasn't any use for the kind that want to lie down +and make the government support 'em. I'll tell you what I found out. +Worthington and Duncan wired the President this morning, and they've gone +up to the White House now. They've got a lot of railroad interests back +of them, and they've taken your friend Sutton into camp; but I managed to +get the President to promise not to do anything until he saw you tomorrow +afternoon at two." + +Jethro sat silent so long that the senator began to think he wasn't going +to answer him at all. In his opinion, he had told Jethro some very grave +facts. + +"W-when are you going to see the President again?" said Jethro, at last. + +"To-morrow morning," answered the senator; "he wants me to walk over with +him to see the postmaster-general, who is sick in bed." + +"What time do you leave the White House?--" + +"At eleven," said the senator, very much puzzled. + +"Er--Grant ever pay any attention to an old soldier on the street?" + +The senator glanced at Jethro, and a twinkle came into his eye. + +"Sometimes he has been known to," he answered. + +"You--you ever pay any attention to an old soldier on the street?" + +Then the senator's eyes began to snap. + +"Sometimes I have been known to." + +"Er--suppose an old soldier was in front of the White House at eleven +o'clock--an old soldier with a gal suppose?" + +The senator saw the point, and took no pains to restrain his admiration. + +"Jethro," he said, slapping him on the shoulder, "I'm willing to bet a +few thousand dollars you'll run your state for a while yet." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +"Heard you say you was goin' for a walk this morning, Cynthy," Jethro +remarked, as they sat at breakfast the next morning. + +"Why, of course," answered Cynthia, "Cousin Eph and I are going out to +see Washington, and he is to show me the places that he remembers." She +looked at Jethro appealingly. "Aren't you coming with us?" she asked. + +"M-meet you at eleven, Cynthy," he said. + +"Eleven!" exclaimed Cynthia in dismay, "that's almost dinner-time." + +"M-meet you in front of the White House at eleven," said Jethro, "plumb +in front of it, under a tree." + +By half-past seven, Cynthia and Ephraim with his green umbrella were in +the street, but it would be useless to burden these pages with a +description of all the sights they saw, and with the things that Ephraim +said about them, and incidentally about the war. After New York, much of +Washington would then have seemed small and ragged to any one who lacked +ideals and a national sense, but Washington was to Cynthia as Athens to a +Greek. To her the marble Capitol shining on its hill was a sacred +temple, and the great shaft that struck upward through the sunlight, +though yet unfinished, a fitting memorial to him who had led the barefoot +soldiers of the colonies through ridicule to victory. They looked up +many institutions and monument, they even had time to go to the Navy +Yard, and they saved the contemplation of the White House till the last. +The White House, which Cynthia thought the finest and most graceful +mansion in all the world, in its simplicity and dignity, a fitting +dwelling for the chosen of the nation. Under the little tree which +Jethro had mentioned, Ephraim stood bareheaded before the walls which +had sheltered Lincoln, which were now the home of the greatest of his +captains, Grant: and wondrous emotions played upon the girl's spirit, +too, as she gazed. They forgot the present in the past and the future, +and they did not see the two gentlemen who had left the portico some +minutes before and were now coming toward them along the sidewalk. + +The two gentlemen, however, slowed their steps involuntarily at a sight +which was uncommon, even in Washington. The girl's arm was in the +soldier's, and her face, which even in repose had a true nobility, now +was alight with an inspiration that is seen but seldom in a lifetime. +In marble, could it have been wrought by a great sculptor, men would +have dreamed before it of high things. + +The two, indeed, might have stood for a group, the girl as the spirit, +the man as the body which had risked and suffered all for it, and still +held it fast. For the honest face of the soldier reflected that spirit +as truly as a mirror. + +Ephraim was aroused from his thoughts by Cynthia nudging his arm. He +started, put on his hat, and stared very hard at a man smoking a cigar +who was standing before him. Then he stiffened and raised his hand in an +involuntary salute. The man smiled. He was not very tall, he had a +closely trimmed light beard that was growing a little gray, he wore a +soft hat something like Ephraim's, a black tie on a white pleated shirt, +and his eyeglasses were pinned to his vest. His eyes were all kindness. + +"How do you do, Comrade?" he said, holding out his hand. + +"General," said Ephraim, "Mr. President," he added, correcting himself, +"how be you?" He shifted the green umbrella, and shook the hand timidly +but warmly. + +"General will do," said the President, with a smiling glance at the tall +senator beside him, "I like to be called General." + +"You've growed some older, General," said Ephraim, scanning his face with +a simple reverence and affection, "but you hain't changed so much as I'd +a thought since I saw you whittlin' under a tree beside the Lacy house in +the Wilderness." + +"My duty has changed some," answered the President, quite as simply. He +added with a touch of sadness, "I liked those days best, Comrade." + +"Well, I guess!" exclaimed Ephraim, "you're general over everything now, +but you're not a mite bigger man to me than you was." + +The President took the compliment as it was meant. + +"I found it easier to run an army than I do to run a country," he said. + +Ephraim's blue eyes flamed with indignation. + +"I don't take no stock in the bull-dogs and the gold harness at Long +Branch and--and all them lies the dratted newspapers print about you,"-- +Ephraim hammered his umbrella on the pavement as an expression of his +feelings,--"and what's more, the people don't." + +The President glanced at the senator again, and laughed a little, +quietly. + +"Thank you; Comrade," he said. + +"You're a plain, common man," continued Ephraim, paying the highest +compliment known to rural New England; "the people think a sight of you, +or they wouldn't hev chose you twice, General." + +"So you were in the Wilderness?" said the President, adroitly changing +the subject. + +"Yes, General. I was pressed into orderly duty the first day--that's +when I saw you whittlin' under the tree, and you didn't seem to have no +more consarn than if it had been a company drill. Had a cigar then, too. +But the second day; May the 6th, I was with the regiment. I'll never +forget that day," said Ephraim, warming to the subject, "when we was +fightin' Ewell up and down the Orange Plank Road, playin' hide-and-seek +with the Johnnies in the woods. You remember them woods, General?" + +The President nodded, his cigar between his teeth. He looked as though +the scene were coming back to him. + +"Never seen such woods," said Ephraim, "scrub oak and pine and cedars and +young stuff springin' up until you couldn't see the length of a company, +and the Rebs jumpin' and hollerin' around and shoutin' every which way. +After a while a lot of them saplings was mowed off clean by the bullets, +and then the woods caught afire, and that was hell." + +"Were you wounded?" asked the President, quickly. + +"I was hurt some, in the hip," answered Ephraim. + +"Some!" exclaimed Cynthia, "why, you have walked lame ever since." She +knew the story by heart, but the recital of it never failed to stir her +blood! They carried him out just as he was going to be burned up, in a +blanket hung from rifles, and he was in the hospital nine months, and had +to come home for a while." + +"Cynthy," said Ephraim in gentle reproof, "I callate the General don't +want to hear that." + +Cynthia flushed, but the President looked at her with an added interest. + +"My dear young lady," he said, "that seems to me the vital part of the +story. If I remember rightly," he added, turning again to Ephraim, the +Fifth Corps was on the Orange turnpike. What brigade were you in?" + +"The third brigade of the First Division," answered Ephraim. + +"Griffin's," said the President. "There were several splendid New +England regiments in that brigade. I sent them with Griffin to help +Sheridan at Five Forks." + +"I was thar too," cried Ephraim. + +"What!" said the President, "with the lame hip?" + +"Well, General, I went back, I couldn't help it. I couldn't stay away +from the boys--just couldn't. I didn't limp as bad then as I do now. I +wahn't much use anywhere else, and I had l'arned to fight. Five Forks!" +exclaimed Ephraim. "I call that day to mind as if it was yesterday. I +remember how the boys yelled when they told us we was goin' to Sheridan. +We got started about daylight, and it took us till four o'clock in the +afternoon to git into position. The woods was just comin' a little +green, and the white dogwoods was bloomin' around. Sheridan, he galloped +up to the line with that black horse of his'n and hollered out, 'Come on, +boys, go in at a clean, jump or You won't ketch one of 'em.' You know how +men, even veterans like that Fifth Corps, sometimes hev to be pushed into +a fight. There was a man from a Maine regiment got shot in the head fust +thing. 'I'm killed,' said he. 'Oh, no, you're not,' says Sheridan, +'pickup your gun and go for 'em.' But he was killed. Well, we went for +'em through all the swamps and briers and everything, and Sheridan, thar +in front, had got the battle-flag and was rushin' round with it swearin' +and prayin' and shoutin', and the first thing we knowed he'd jumped his +horse clean over their logworks and landed right on top of the +Johnnie's." + +"Yes," said the President, "that was Sheridan, sure enough." + +"Mr. President," said the senator, who stood by wonderingly while General +Grant had lost himself in this conversation, "do you realize what time it +is?" + +"Yes, yes," said the President, "we must go on. What was your rank, +Comrade?" + +"Sergeant, General." + +"I hope you have got a good pension for that hip," said the President, +kindly. It may be well to add that he was not always so incautious, but +this soldier bore the unmistakable stamp of simplicity and sincerity on +his face. + +Ephraim hesitated. + +"He never would ask for a pension, General," said Cynthia. + +"What!" exclaimed the President in real astonishment, "are you so rich as +all that?" and he glanced at the green umbrella. + +"Well, General," said Ephraim, uncomfortably, "I never liked the notion +of gittin' paid for it. You see, I was what they call a war-Democrat." + +"Good Lord!" said the President, but more to himself. "What do you do +now?" + +"I callate to make harness," answered Ephraim. + +"Only he can't make it any more on account of his rheumatism, Mr. +President," Cynthia put in. + +"I think you might call me General, too," he said, with the grace that +many simple people found inherent in him. "And may I ask your name, +young lady?" + +"Cynthia Wetherell--General," she said smiling. + +"That sounds more natural," said the President, and then to Ephraim, +"Your daughter?" + +"I couldn't think more of her if she was," answered Ephraim; "Cynthy's +pulled me through some tight spells. Her mother was my cousin, General. +My name's Prescott--Ephraim Prescott." + +"Ephraim Prescott!" ejaculated the President, sharply, taking his cigar +from his mouth, "Ephraim Prescott!" + +"Prescott--that's right--Prescott, General," repeated Ephraim, sorely +puzzled by these manifestations of amazement. + +"What did you come to Washington for?" asked the President. + +"Well, General, I kind of hate to tell you--I didn't intend to mention +that. I guess I won't say nothin' about it," he added, "we've had such a +sociable time. I've always b'en a little mite ashamed of it, General, +ever since 'twas first mentioned." + +"Good Lord!" said the President again, and then he looked at Cynthia. +"What is it, Miss Cynthia?" he asked. + +It was now Cynthia's turn to be a little confused. + +"Uncle Jethro--that is, Mr. Bass" (the President nodded), "went to Cousin +Eph when he couldn't make harness any more and said he'd give him the +Brampton post-office." + +The President's eyes met the senator's, and both gentlemen laughed. +Cynthia bit her lip, not seeing any cause for mirth in her remark, while +Ephraim looked uncomfortable and mopped the perspiration from his brow. + +"He said he'd give it to him, did he?" said the President. "Is Mr. Bass +your uncle?" + +"Oh, no, General," replied Cynthia, "he's really no relation. He's done +everything for me, and I live with him since my father died. He was +going to meet us here," she continued, looking around hurriedly, "I'm +sure I can't think what's kept him." + +"Mr. President, we are half an hour late already," said the senator, +hurriedly. + +"Well, well," said the President, "I suppose I must go. Good-by, Miss +Cynthia," said he, taking the girl's hand warmly. "Good-by, Comrade. +If ever you want to see General Grant, just send in your name. Good-by." + +The President lifted his hat politely to Cynthia and passed. He said +something to the senator which they did not hear, and the senator laughed +heartily. Ephraim and Cynthia watched them until they were out of sight. + +"Godfrey!" exclaimed Ephraim, "they told me he was hard to talk to. Why, +Cynthy, he's as simple as a child." + +"I've always thought that all great men must be simple," said Cynthia; +"Uncle Jethro is." + +"To think that the President of the United States stood talkin' to us on +the sidewalk for half an hour," said Ephraim, clutching Cynthia's arm. +"Cynthy, I'm glad we didn't press that post-office matter it was worth +more to me than all the post-offices in the Union to have that talk with +General Grant." + +They waited some time longer under the tree, happy in the afterglow of +this wonderful experience. Presently a clock struck twelve. + +"Why, it's dinner-time, Cynthy," said Ephraim. "I guess Jethro haint' +a-comin'--must hev b'en delayed by some of them politicians." + +"It's the first time I ever knew him to miss an appointment," said +Cynthia, as they walked back to the hotel. + +Jethro was not in the corridor, so they passed on to the dining room and +looked eagerly from group to group. Jethro was not there, either, but +Cynthia heard some one laughing above the chatter of the guests, and drew +back into the corridor. She had spied the Duncans and the Worthingtons +making merry by themselves at a corner table, and it was Somers's laugh +that she heard. Bob, too, sitting next to Miss Duncan, was much amused +about something. Suddenly Cynthia's exaltation over the incident of the +morning seemed to leave her, and Bob Worthington's words which she had +pondered over in the night came back to her with renewed force. He did +not find it necessary to steal away to see Miss Duncan. Why should he +have "stolen away" to see her? Was it because she was a country girl, +and poor? That was true; but on the other hand, did she not live in the +sunlight, as it were, of Uncle Jethro's greatness, and was it not an +honor to come to his house and see any one? And why had Mr. Worthington +turned hid back on Jethro, and sent for Bob when he was talking to them? +Cynthia could not understand these things, and her pride was sorely +wounded by them. + +"Perhaps Jethro's in his room," suggested Ephraim. + +And indeed they found him there seated on the bed, poring over some +newspapers, and both in a breath demanded where he had been. Ephraim did +not wait for an answer. + +"We seen General Grant, Jethro," he cried; "while we was waitin' for you +under the tree he come up and stood talkin' to us half an hour. Full +half an hour, wahn't it, Cynthy?" + +"Oh, yes," answered Cynthia, forgetting her own grievance at the +recollection; "only it didn't seem nearly that long." + +"W-want to know!" exclaimed Jethro, in astonishment, putting down his +paper. "H-how did it happen?" + +"Come right up and spoke to us," said Ephraim, in a tone he might have +used to describe a miracle, "jest as if he was common folk. Never had a +more sociable talk with anybody. Why, there was times when I clean +forgot he was President of the United States. The boys won't believe it +when we git back at Coniston." + +And Ephraim, full of his subject, began to recount from the beginning the +marvellous affair, occasionally appealing to Cynthia for confirmation. +How he had lived over again the Wilderness and Five Forks; how the +General had changed since he had seen him whittling under a tree; +how the General had asked about his pension. + +"D-didn't mention the post-office, did you, Ephraim?" + +"Why, no," replied Ephraim, "I didn't like to exactly. You see, we was +havin' such a good time I didn't want to spoil it, but Cynthy--" + +"I told the President about it, Uncle Jethro; I told him how sick Cousin +Eph had been, and that you were going to give him the postmastership +because he couldn't work any more with his hands." + +The training of a lifetime had schooled Jethro not to betray surprise. + +"K-kind of mixin' up in politics, hain't you, Cynthy? P-President say he'd +give you the postmastership, Eph?" he asked. + +"He didn't say nothin' about it, Jethro," answered Ephraim slowly; +"I callate he has other views for the place, and he was too kind to come +right out with 'em and spoil our mornin'. You see, Jethro, I wahn't only +a sergeant, and Brampton's gittin' to be a big town." + +"But, surely," cried Cynthia, who could scarcely wait for him to finish, +"surely you're going to give Cousin Eph the post-office, aren't you, +Uncle Jethro? All you have to do is to tell the President that you want +it for him. Why, I had an idea that we came down for that." + +"Now, Cynthy," Ephraim put in, deprecatingly. + +"Who else would get the post-office?" asked Cynthia. "Surely you're not +going to let Mr. Sutton have it for Dave Wheelock!" + +"Er--Cynthy," said Jethro, slyly, "w-what'd you say to me once about +interferin' with women's fixin's?" + +Cynthia saw the point. She perceived also that the mazes of politics +were not to be understood by a young woman, of even by an old soldier. +She laughed and seized Jethro's hands and pulled him from the bed. + +"We won't get any dinner unless we hurry," she said. + +When they reached the dining room she was relieved to discover that the +party in the corner had gone. + +In the afternoon there were many more sights to be viewed, but they were +back in the hotel again by half-past four, because Ephraim's Wilderness +leg had its limits of endurance. Jethro (though he had not mentioned the +fact to them) had gone to the White House. + +It was during the slack hours that our friend the senator, whose interest +in the matter of the Brampton post office out-weighed for the present +certain grave problems of the Administration in which he was involved, +hurried into the Willard Hotel, looking for Jethro Bass. He found him +without much trouble in his usual attitude, occupying one of the chairs +in the corridor. + +"Well," exclaimed the senator, with a touch of eagerness he did not often +betray, "did you see Grant? How about your old soldier? He's one of the +most delightful characters I ever met--simple as a child," and he laughed +at the recollection. "That was a masterstroke of yours, Bass, putting +him under that tree with that pretty girl. I doubt if you ever did +anything better in your life. Did they tell you about it?" + +"Yes," said Jethro, "they told me about it." + +"And how about Grant? What did he say to you?" + +"W-well, I went up there and sent in my card. D-didn't have to wait a +great while, as I was pretty early, and soon he came in, smokin' a black +cigar, head bent forward a little. D-didn't ask me to sit down, and what +talkin' we did we did standin'. D-didn't ask me what he could do for me, +what I wanted, or anything else, but just stood there, and I stood there. +F-fust time in my life I didn't know how to commerce or what to say; +looked--looked at me--didn't take his eye off me. After a while I got +started, somehow; told him I was there to ask him to appoint Ephraim +Prescott to the Brampton postoffice--t-told him all about Ephraim from +the time he was locked in the cradle--never was so hard put that I could +remember. T-told him how Ephraim shook butternuts off my fathers tree-- +for all I know. T-told him all about Ephraim's war record--leastways +all I could call to mind--and, by Godfrey! before I got through, I wished +I'd listened to more of it. T-told him about Ephraim's Wilderness bullets +--t-told him about Ephraim's rheumatism,--how it bothered him when he went +to bed and when he got up again." + +If Jethro had glanced at his companion, he would have seen the senator +was shaking with silent and convulsive laughter. + +"All the time I talked to him I didn't see a muscle move in his face," +Jethro continued, "so I started in again, and he looked--looked--looked +right at me. W-wouldn't wink--don't think he winked once while I was in +that room. I watched him as close as I could, and I watched to see if a +muscle moved or if I was makin' any impression. All he would do was to +stand there and look--look--look. K-kept me there ten minutes and never +opened his mouth at all. Hardest man to talk to I ever met--never see a +man before but what I could get him to say somethin', if it was only a +cuss word. I got tired of it after a while, made up my mind that I had +found one man I couldn't move. Then what bothered me was to get out of +that room. If I'd a had a Bible I believe I'd a read it to him. I +didn't know what to say, but I did say this after a while:-- + "'W-well, Mr. President, I guess I've kept you long enough--g-guess +you're a pretty busy man. H-hope you'll give Mr. Prescott that +postmastership. Er--er good-by.' + +"'Wait, sir,' he said. + +"'Yes,' I said, 'I-I'll wait.' + +"Thought you was goin' to give him that postmastership, Mr. Bass,' he +said." + +At this point the senator could not control his mirth, and the empty +corridor echoed his laughter. + +"By thunder! what did you say to that?" + +"Er--I said, 'Mr. President, I thought I was until a while ago.' + +"'And when did you change your mind?' says he." + +Then he laughed a little--not much--but he laughed a little. + +"'I understand that your old soldier lives within the limits of the +delivery of the Brampton office,' said he." + +"'That's correct, Mr. President,' said I." + +"'Well,' said he, 'I will app'int him postmaster at Brampton, Mr. Bass.'" + +"'When?' said I." + +Then he laughed a little more. + +"I'll have the app'intment sent to your hotel this afternoon,' said he." + +"'Then I said to him, 'This has come out full better than I expected, Mr. +President. I'm much obliged to you.' He didn't say nothin' more, so I +come out." + +"Grant didn't say anything about Worthington or Duncan, did he?" asked +the senator, curiously, as he rose to go. + +"G-guess I've told you all he said," answered Jethro; "'twahn't a great +deal." + +The senator held out his hand. + +"Bass," he said, laughing, "I believe you came pretty near meeting your +match. But if Grant's the hardest man in the Union to get anything out +of, I've a notion who's the second." And with this parting shot the +senator took his departure, chuckling to himself as he went. + +As has been said, there were but few visitors in Washington at this time, +and the hotel corridor was all but empty. Presently a substantial- +looking gentleman came briskly in from the street, nodding affably to the +colored porters and bell-boys, who greeted him by name. He wore a +flowing Prince Albert coat, which served to dignify a growing portliness, +and his coal-black whiskers glistened in the light. A voice, which +appeared to come from nowhere in particular, brought the gentleman up +standing. + +"How be you, Heth?" + +It may not be that Mr. Sutton's hand trembled, but the ashes of his cigar +fell to the floor. He was not used to visitations, and for the instant, +if the truth be told, he was not equal to looking around. + +"Like Washington, Heth--like Washington?" + +Then Mr. Sutton turned. His presence of mind, and that other presence of +which he was so proud, seemed for the moment to have deserted him. + +"S-stick pretty close to business, Heth, comin' down here out of session +time. S-stick pretty close to business, don't you, since the people sent +you to Congress?" + +Mr. Sutton might have offered another man a cigar or a drink, but (as is +well known) Jethro was proof against tobacco or stimulants. + +"Well," said the Honorable Heth, catching his breath and making a dive, +"I am surprised to see you, Jethro," which was probably true. + +"Th-thought you might be," said Jethro. "Er--glad to see me, Heth--glad +to see me?" + +As has been recorded, it is peculiarly difficult to lie to people who are +not to be deceived. + +"Why, certainly I am," answered the Honorable Heth, swallowing hard, +"certainly I am, Jethro. I meant to have got to Coniston this summer, +but I was so busy--" + +"Peoples' business, I understand. Er--hear you've gone in for high- +minded politics, Heth--r-read a highminded speech of yours--two high- +minded speeches. Always thought you was a high-minded man, Heth." + +"How did you like those speeches, Jethro?" asked Mr. Sutton, striving as +best he might to make some show of dignity. + +"Th-thought they was high-minded," said Jethro. + +Then there was a silence, for Mr. Sutton could think of nothing more to +say. And he yearned to depart with a great yearning, but something held +him there. + +"Heth," said Jethafter a while, "you was always very friendly and +obliging. You've done a great many favors for me in your life." + +"I've always tried to be neighborly, Jethro," said Mr. Sutton, but his +voice sounded a little husky even to himself. + +"And I may have done one or two little things for you, Heth," Jethro +continued, "but I can't remember exactly. Er--can you remember, Heth." + +Mr. Sutton was trying with becoming nonchalance to light the stump of his +cigar. He did not succeed this time. He pulled himself together with a +supreme effort. + +"I think we've both been mutually helpful, Jethro," he said, "mutually +helpful." + +"Well," said Jethro, reflectively, "I don't know as I could have put it +as well as that--there's somethin' in being an orator." + +There was another silence, a much longer one. The Honorable Heth threw +his butt away, and lighted another cigar. Suddenly, as if by magic, his +aplomb returned, and in a flash of understanding he perceived the +situation. He saw himself once more as the successful congressman, the +trusted friend of the railroad interests, and he saw Jethro as a +discredited boss. He did not stop to reflect that Jethro did not act +like a discredited boss, as a keener man might have done. But if the +Honorable Heth had been a keener man, he would not have been at that time +a congressman. Mr. Sutton accused himself of having been stupid in not +grasping at once that the tables were turned, and that now he was the one +to dispense the gifts. + +"K-kind of fortunate you stopped to speak to me, Heth. N-now I come to +think of it, I hev a little favor to ask of you." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Sutton, blowing out the smoke; "of course anything I +can do, Jethro--anything in reason." + +"W-wouldn't ask a high-minded man to do anything he hadn't ought to," +said Jethro; "the fact is, I'd like to git Eph Prescott appointed at the +Brampton post-office. You can fix that, Heth--can't you--you can fix +that?" + +Mr. Sutton stuck his thumb into his vest pocket and cleared his throat. + +"I can't tell you how sorry I am not to oblige you, Jethro, but I've +arranged to give that post-office to Dave Wheelock." + +"A-arranged it, hev You--a-arranged it?" + +"Why, yes," said Mr. Sutton, scarcely believing his own ears. Could it +be possible that he was using this patronizingly kind tone to Jethro +Bass? + +"Well, that's too bad," said Jethro; "g-got it all fixed, hev you?" + +"Practically," answered Mr. Sutton, grandly; "indeed, I may go as far as +to say that it is as certain as if I had the appointment here in my +pocket. I'm sorry not to oblige you, Jethro; but these are matters which +a member of Congress must look after pretty closely." He held out his +hand, but Jethro did not appear to see it,--he had his in his pockets. +"I've an important engagement," said the Honorable Heth, consulting a +large gold watch. "Are you going to be in Washington long?" + +"G-guess I've about got through, Heth--g-guess I've about got through," +said Jethro. + +"Well, if you have time and there's any other little thing, I'm in Room +29," said Mr. Sutton, as he put his foot on the stairway. + +"T-told Worthington you got that app'intment for Wheelock--t-told +Worthington?" Jethro called out after him. + +Mr. Sutton turned and waved his cigar and smiled in acknowledgment of +this parting bit of satire. He felt that he could afford to smile. A +few minutes later he was ensconced on the sofa of a private sitting room +reviewing the incident, with much gusto, for the benefit of Mr. Isaac D. +Worthington and Mr. Alexander Duncan. Both of these gentlemen laughed +heartily, for the Honorable Heth Sutton knew the art of telling a story +well, at least, and was often to be seen with a group around him in the +lobbies of Congress. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +About five o'clock that afternoon Ephraim was sitting in his shirt- +sleeves by the window of his room, and Cynthia was reading aloud to him +an article (about the war, of course) from a Washington paper, which his +friend, Mr. Beard, had sent him. There was a knock at the door, and +Cynthia opened it to discover a colored hall-boy with a roll in his hand. + +"Mistah Ephum Prescott?" he said. + +"Yes," answered Ephraim, "that's me." + +Cynthia shut the door and gave him the roll, but Ephraim took it as +though he were afraid of its contents. + +"Guess it's some of them war records from Amasy," he said. + +"Oh, Cousin Eph," exclaimed Cynthia, excitedly, "why don't you open it? +If you don't I will." + +"Guess you'd better, Cynthy," and he held it out to her with a trembling +hand. + +Cynthia did open it, and drew out a large document with seals and +printing and signatures. + +"Cousin Eph," she cried, holding it under his nose, "Cousin Eph, you're +postmaster of Brampton!" + +Ephraim looked at the paper, but his eyes swam, and he could only make +out a dancidg, bronze seal. + +"I want to know!" he exclaimed. "Fetch Jethro." + +But Cynthia had already flown on that errand. Curiously enough, she ran +into Jethro in the hall immediately outside of Ephraim's door. Ephraim +got to his feet; it was very difficult for him to realize that his +troubles were ended, that he was to earn his living at last. He looked +at Jethro, and his eyes filled with tears. "I guess I can't thank you as +I'd ought to, Jethro," he said, "leastways, not now." + +"I'll thank him for you, Cousin Eph," said Cynthia. And she did. + +"D-don't thank me," said Jethro, "I didn't have much to do with it, +Eph. Thank the President." + +Ephraim did thank the President, in one of the most remarkable letters, +from a literary point of view, ever received at the White House. For the +art of literature largely consists in belief in what one is writing, and +Ephraim's letter had this quality of sincerity, and no lack of vividness +as well. He spent most of the evening in composing it. + +Cynthia, too, had received a letter that day--a letter which she had read +several times, now with a smile, and again with a pucker of the forehead +which was meant for a frown. "Dear Cynthia," it said. "Where do you +keep yourself? I am sure you would not be so cruel if you knew that I +was aching to see you." Aching! Cynthia repeated the word, and +remembered the glimpse she had had of him in the dining room with Miss +Janet Duncan. "Whenever I have been free" (Cynthia repeated this also, +somewhat ironically, although she conceded it the merit of frankness), +"Whenever I have been free, I have haunted the corridors for a sight of +you. Think of me as haunting the hotel desk for an answer to this, +telling me when I can see you--and where. P.S. I shall be around all +evening." And it was signed, "Your friend and playmate, R. Worthington." + +It is a fact--not generally known--that Cynthia did answer the letter-- +twice. But she sent neither answer. Even at that age she was given to +reflection, and much as she may have approved of the spirit of the +letter, she liked the tone of it less. Cynthia did not know a great deal +of the world, it is true, but the felt instinctively that something was +wrong when Bob resorted to such means of communication. And she was +positively relieved, or thought that she was, when she went down to +supper and discovered that the table in the corner was empty. + +After supper Ephraim had his letter to write, and Jethro wished to sit in +the corridor. But Cynthia had learned that the corridor was not the +place for a girl, so she explained--to Jethro that he would find her in +the parlor if be wanted her, and that she was going there to read. That +parlor Cynthia thought a handsome room, with its high windows and lace +curtains, its long mirrors and marble-topped tables. She established +herself under a light, on a sofa in one corner, and sat, with the book on +her lap watching the people who came and went. She had that delicious +sensation which comes to the young when they first travel--the sensation +of being a part of the great world; and she wished that she knew these +people, and which were the great, and which the little ones. Some of +them looked at her intently, she thought too intently, and at such times +she pretended to read. She was aroused by hearing some one saying:-- + "Isn't this Miss Wetherell?" + +Cynthia looked up and caught her breath, for the young lady who had +spoken was none other than Miss Janet Duncan herself. Seen thus +startlingly at close range, Miss Duncan was not at all like what Cynthia +had expected--but then most people are not. Janet Duncan was, in fact, +one of those strange persons who do not realize the picture which their +names summon up. She was undoubtedly good-looking; her hair, of a more +golden red than her brother's, was really wonderful; her neck was +slender; and she had a strange, dreamy face that fascinated Cynthia, who +had never seen anything like it. + +She put down her book on the sofa and got up, not without a little tremor +at this unexpected encounter. + +"Yes, I'm Cynthia Wetherell," she replied. + +To add to her embarrassment, Miss Duncan seized both her hands +impulsively and gazed into her face. + +"You're really very beautiful," she said. "Do you know it?" + +Cynthia's only answer to this was a blush. She wondered if all city +girls were like Miss Duncan. + +"I was determined to come up and speak to you the first chance I had," +Janet continued. "I've been making up stories about you." + +"Stories!" exclaimed Cynthia, drawing away her hands. + +"Romances," said Miss Duncan--"real romances. Sometimes I think I'm +going to be a novelist, because I'm always weaving stories about people +that I see people who interest me, I mean. And you look as if you might +be the heroine of a wonderful romance." + +Cynthia's breath was now quite taken away. + +"Oh," she said, "I--had never thought that I looked like that." + +"But you do," said Miss Duncan; "you've got all sorts of possibilities in +your face--you look as if you might have lived for ages." + +"As old as that?" exclaimed Cynthia, really startled. + +"Perhaps I don't express myself very well" said the other, hastily; "I +wish you could see what I've written about you already. I can do it so +much better with pen and ink. I've started quite a romance already." + +"What is it?" asked Cynthia, not without interest. + +"Sit down on the sofa and I'll tell you," said Miss Duncan; "I've done it +all from your face, too. I've made you a very poor girl brought up by +peasants, only you are really of a great family, although nobody knows +it. A rich duke sees you one day when he is hunting and falls in love +with you, and you have to stand a lot of suffering and persecution +because of it, and say nothing. I believe you could do that," added +Janet, looking critically at Cynthia's face. + +"I suppose I could if I had to," said Cynthia, "but I shouldn't like it." + +"Oh, it would do you good," said Janet; "it would ennoble your character. +Not that it needs it," she added hastily. "And I could write another +story about that quaint old man who paid the musicians to go away, and +who made us all laugh so much." + +Cynthia's eye kindled. + +"Mr. Bass isn't a quaint old man," she said; "he's the greatest man in +the state." + +Miss Duncan's patronage had been of an unconscious kind. She knew that +she had offended, but did not quite realize how. + +"I'm so sorry," she cried, "I didn't mean to hurt you. You live with +him, don't you--Coniston?" + +"Yes," replied Cynthia, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. + +"I've heard about Coniston. It must be quite a romance in itself to live +all the year round in such a beautiful place and to make your own +clothes. Yours become you very well," said Miss Duncan, "although I +don't know why. They're not at all in style, and yet they give you quite +an air of distinction. I wish I could live in Coniston for a year, +anyway, and write a book about you. My brother and Bob Worthington went +out there one night and serenaded you, didn't they?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia, that peculiar flash coming into her eyes again, "and +I think it was very foolish of them." + +"Do you?" exclaimed Miss Duncan, in surprise; "I wish somebody would +serenade me. I think it was the most romantic thing Bob ever did. He's +wild about you, and so is Somers they have both told me so in +confidence." + +Cynthia's face was naturally burning now. + +"If it were true," she said, "they wouldn't have told you about it." + +"I suppose that's so," said Miss Duncan, thoughtfully, "only you're very +clever to have seen it. Now that I know you, I think you a more +remarkable person than ever. You don't seem at all like a country girl, +and you don't talk like one." + +Cynthia laughed outright. She could not help liking Janet Duncan, mere +flesh and blood not being proof against such compliments. + +"I suppose it's because my father was an educated man," she said; "he +taught me to read and speak when I was young." + +"Why, you are just like a person out of a novel! Who was your father?" + +"He kept the store at Coniston," answered Cynthia, smiling a little +sadly. She would have liked to have added that William Wetherell would +have been a great man if he had had health, but she found it difficult to +give out confidences, especially when they were in the nature of +surmises. + +"Well," said Janet, stoutly, "I think that is more like a story than +ever. Do you know," she continued, "I saw you once at the state capital +outside of our grounds the day Bob ran after you. That was when I was in +love with him. We had just come back from Europe then, and I thought he +was the most wonderful person I had ever seen." + +If Cynthia had felt any emotion from this disclosure, she did not betray +it. Janet, moreover, was not looking for it. + +"What made you change your mind?" asked Cynthia, biting her lip. + +"Oh, Bob hasn't the temperament," said Janet, making use of a word that +she had just discovered; "he's too practical--he never does or says the +things you want him to. He's just been out West with us on a trip, and +he was always looking at locomotives and brakes and grades and bridges +and all such tiresome things. I should like to marry a poet," said Miss +Duncan, dreamily; "I know they want me to marry Bob, and Mr. Worthington +wants it. I'm sure, of that. But he wouldn't at all suit me." + +If Cynthia had been able to exercise an equal freedom of speech, she +might have been impelled to inquire what young Mr. Worthington's views +were in the matter. As it was, she could think of nothing appropriate to +say, and just then four people entered the room and came towards them. +Two of these were Janet's mother and father, and the other two were Mr. +Worthington, the elder, and the Honorable Heth Sutton. Mrs. Duncan, whom +Janet did not at all resemble was a person who naturally commanded +attention. She had strong features, and a very decided, though not +disagreeable, manner. + +"I couldn't imagine what had become of you, Janet," she said, coming +forward and throwing off her lace shawl. "Whom have you found--a school +friend?" + +"No, Mamma," said Janet, "this is Cynthia Wetherell." "Oh," said Mrs. +Duncan, looking very hard at Cynthia in a near-sighted way, and, not +knowing in the least who she was; "you haven't seen Senator and Mrs. +Meade, have you, Janet? They were to be here at eight o'clock." + +"No," said Janet, turning again to Cynthia and scarcely hearing the +question. + +"Janet hasn't seen them, Dudley," said Mrs. Duncan, going up to Mr. +Worthington, who was pulling his chop whiskers by the door. "Janet has +discovered such a beautiful creature," she went on, in a voice which she +did not take the trouble to lower. "Do look at her, Alexander. And you, +Mr. Sutton--who are such a bureau of useful information, do tell me who +she is. Perhaps she comes from your part of the country--her name's +Wetherell." + +"Wetherell? Why, of course I know her," said Mr. Sutton, who was greatly +pleased because Mrs. Duncan had likened him to an almanac: greatly +pleased this evening in every respect, and even the diamond in his bosom +seemed to glow with a brighter fire. He could afford to be generous to- +night, and he turned to Mr. Worthington and laughed knowingly. "She's +the ward of our friend Jethro," he explained. + +"What is she?" demanded Mrs. Duncan, who knew and cared nothing about +politics, a country girl, I suppose." + +"Yes," replied Mr. Sutton, "a country girl from a little village not far +from Clovelly. A good girl, I believe, in spite of the atmosphere in +which she has been raised." + +"It's really wonderful, Mr. Sutton, how you seem to know every one in +your district, including the women and children," said the lady; "but I +suppose you wouldn't be where you are if you didn't." + +The Honorable Heth cleared his throat. + +"Wetherell," Mr. Duncan was saying, staring at Cynthia through his +spectacles, "where have I heard that name?" + +He must suddenly have remembered, and recalled also that he and his ally +Worthington had been on opposite sides in the Woodchuck Session, for he +sat down abruptly beside the door, and remained there for a while. For +Mr. Duncan had never believed Mr. Merrill's explanation concerning poor +William Wetherell' s conduct. + +"Pretty, ain't she?" said Mr. Sutton to Mr. Worthington. "Guess she's +more dangerous than Jethro, now that we've clipped his wings a little." +The congressman had heard of Bob's infatuation. + +Isaac D. Worthington, however, was in a good humor this evening and was +moved by a certain curiosity to inspect the girl. Though what he had +seen and heard of his son's conduct with her had annoyed him, he did not +regard it seriously. + +"Aren't you going to speak to your constituent, Mr. Sutton?" said Mrs. +Duncan, who was bored because her friends had not arrived; "a congressman +ought to keep on the right side of the pretty girls, you know." + +It hadn't occurred to the Honorable Heth to speak to his constituent. +The ways of Mrs. Duncan sometimes puzzled him, and he could not see why +that lady and her daughter seemed to take more than a passing interest in +the girl. But if they could afford to notice her, certainly he could; so +he went forward graciously and held out his hand to Cynthia; interrupting +Miss Duncan in the middle of a discourse upon her diary. + +"How do you do, Cynthia?" said Mr. Sutton. Had he been in Coniston, he +would have said, "How be you?" + +Cynthia took the hand, but did not rise, somewhat to Mr. Sutton's +annoyance. A certain respect was due to a member of Congress and the +Rajah of Clovelly. + +"How do you do, Mr. Sutton?" said Cynthia, very coolly. + +"I like her," remarked Mrs. Duncan to Mr. Worthington. + +"This is a splendid trip for you, eh, Cynthia?" Mr. Sutton persisted, +with a praiseworthy determination to be pleasant. + +"It has turned out to be so, Mr. Sutton," replied Cynthia. This was not +precisely the answer Mr. Sutton expected, and to tell the truth, he +didn't know quite what to make of it. + +"A great treat to see Washington and New York, isn't it?" said Mr. +Sutton, kindly, "a great treat for a Coniston girl. I suppose you came +through New York and saw the sights?" + +"Is there another way to get to Washington?" asked Cynthia. + +Mrs. Duncan nudged Mr. Worthington and drew a little nearer, while Mr. +Sutton began to wish he had not been lured into the conversation. +Cynthia had been very polite, but there was something in the quiet manner +in which the girl's eyes were fixed upon him that made him vaguely +uneasy. He could not back out with dignity, and he felt himself on the +verge of becoming voluble. Mr. Sutton prided himself on never being +voluble. + +"Why, no," he answered, "we have to go to New York to get anywhere in +these days." There was a slight pause. "Uncle Jethro taking you and Mr. +Prescott on a little pleasure trip?" He had not meant to mention +Jethro's name, but he found himself, to his surprise, a little at a loss +for a subject. + +"Well, partly a pleasure trip. It's always a pleasure for Uncle Jethro +to do things for others," said Cynthia, quietly, "although people do not +always appreciate what he does for them." + +The Honorable Heth coughed. He was now very uncomfortable, indeed. How +much did this astounding young person know, whom he had thought so +innocent? + +"I didn't discover he was in town until I ran across him in the corridor +this evening. Should have liked to have introduced him to some of the +Washington folks--some of the big men, although not many of 'em are +here," Mr. Sutton ran on, not caring to notice the little points of light +in Cynthia's eyes. (The idea of Mr. Sutton introducing Uncle Jethro to +anybody!) "I haven't seen Ephraim Prescott. It must be a great treat for +him, too, to get away on a little trip and see his army friends. How is +he?" + +"He's very happy," said Cynthia. + +"Happy!" exclaimed Mr. Sutton. "Oh, yes, of course, Ephraim's always +happy, in spite of his troubles and his rheumatism. I always liked +Ephraim Prescott." + +Cynthia did not answer this remark at all, and Mr. Sutton suspected +strongly that she did not believe it, therefore he repeated it. + +"I always liked Ephraim. I want you to tell Jethro that I'm downright +sorry I couldn't get him that Brampton postmastership." + +"I'll tell him that you are sorry, Mr. Sutton," replied Cynthia, gravely, +"but I don't think it'll do any good." + +Not do any good!--What did the girl mean? Mr. Sutton came to the +conclusion that he had been condescending enough, that somehow he was +gaining no merit in Mrs. Duncan's eyes by this kindness to a constituent. +He buttoned up his coat rather grandly. + +"I hope you won't misunderstand me, Cynthia," he said. "I regret +extremely that my sense of justice demanded that I should make David +Wheelock postmaster at Brampton, and I have made him so." + +It was now Cynthia's turn to be amazed. + +"But," she exclaimed, "but Cousin Ephraim is postmaster of Brampton." + +Mr. Sutton started violently, and that part of his face not hidden by his +whiskers seemed to pale, and Mr: Worthington, usually self-possessed, +took a step forward and seized him by the arm. + +"What does this mean, Sutton?" he said. + +Mr. Sutton pulled himself together, and glared at Cynthia. + +"I think you are mistaken," said he, "the congressman of the district +usually arranges these matters, and the appointment will be sent to Mr. +Wheelock to-morrow." + +"But Cousin Ephraim already has the appointment," said Cynthia; "it was +sent to him this afternoon, and he is up in his room now writing to thank +the President for it." + +"What in the world's the matter?" cried Mrs. Duncan, in astonishment. + +Cynthia's simple announcement had indeed caused something of a panic +among the gentlemen present. Mr. Duncan had jumped up from his seat +beside the door, and Mr. Worthington, his face anything but impassive, +tightened his hold on the congressman's arm. + +"Good God, Sutton!" he exclaimed, "can this be true?" + +As for Cynthia, she was no less astonished than Mrs. Duncan. by the fact +that these rich and powerful gentlemen were so excited over a little +thing like the postmastership of Brampton. But Mr. Sutton laughed; it +was not hearty, but still it might have passed muster for a laugh. + +"Nonsense," he exclaimed, making a fair attempt to regain his composure, +"the girl's got it mixed up with something else--she doesn't know what +she's talking about." + +Mrs. Duncan thought the girl did look uncommonly as if she knew what she +was talking about, and Mr. Duncan and Mr. Worthington had some such +impression, too, as they stared at her. Cynthia's eyes flashed, but her +voice was no louder than before. + +"I am used to being believed, Mr. Sutton," she said, "but here's Uncle +Jethro himself. You might ask him." + +They all turned in amazement, and one, at least, in trepidation, to +perceive Jethro Bass standing behind them with his hands in his pockets, +as unconcerned as though he were under the butternut tree in Coniston. + +"How be you, Heth?" he said. "Er--still got that appointment +p-practically in your pocket?" + +"Uncle Jethro," said Cynthia, "Mr. Sutton does not believe me when I tell +him that Cousin Ephraim has been made postmaster of Brampton. He would +like to have you tell him whether it is so or not." + +But this, as it happened, was exactly what the Honorable Heth did not +want to have Jethro tell him. How he got out of the parlor of the +Willard House he has not to this day a very clear idea. As a matter of +fact, he followed Mr. Worthington and Mr. Duncan, and they made their +exit by the farther door. Jethro did not appear to take any notice of +their departure. + +"Janet," said Mrs. Duncan, "I think Senator and Mrs. Meade must have gone +to our sitting room." Then, to Cynthia's surprise, the lady took her by +the hand. "I can't imagine what you've done, my dear," she said +pleasantly, "but I believe that you are capable of taking care of +yourself, and I like you." + +Thus it will be seen that Mrs. Duncan was an independent person. Sometimes +heiresses are apt to be. + +"And I like you, too," said Janet, taking both of Cynthia's hands, "and I +hope to see you very, very often." + +Jethro looked after them. + +"Er--the women folks seem to have some sense," he said. Then he turned +to Cynthia. "B-be'n havin' some fun with Heth, Cynthy?" he inquired. + +"I haven't any respect for Mr. Sutton," said Cynthia, indignantly; "it +serves him right for presuming to think that he could give a post-office +to any one." + +Jethro made no remark concerning this presumption on the part of the +congressman of the district. Cynthia's indignation against Mr. Sutton +was very real, and it was some time before she could compose herself +sufficiently to tell Jethro what had happened. His enjoyment as he +listened may be imagined but presently he forgot this, and became aware +that something really troubled her. + +"Uncle Jethro," she asked suddenly, "why do they treat me as they do?" + +He did not answer at once. This was because of a pain around his heart-- +had she known it. He had felt that pain before. + +"H-how do they treat you, Cynthy?" + +She hesitated. She had not yet learned to use the word patronize in the +social sense, and she was at a loss to describe the attitude of Mrs. +Duncan and her daughter, though her instinct had registered it. She was +at a loss to account for Mr. Worthington's attitude, too. Mr. Sutton's +she bitterly resented. + +"Are they your enemies?" she demanded. + +Jethro was in real distress. + +"If they are," she continued, "I won't speak to them again. If they +can't treat me as--as your daughter ought to be treated, I'll turn my +back on them. I am--I am just like your daughter--am I not, Uncle +Jethro?" + +He put out his hand and seized hers roughly, and his voice was thick with +suffering. + +"Yes, Cynthy," he said, "you--you're all I've got in the world." + +She squeezed his hand in return. + +"I know it, Uncle Jethro," she cried contritely, "I oughtn't to have +troubled you by asking. You--you have done everything for me, much more +than I deserve. And I shan't be hurt after this when people are too +small to appreciate how good you are, and how great." + +The pain tightened about Jethro's heart--tightened so sharply that he +could not speak, and scarcely breathe because of it. Cynthia picked up +her novel, and set the bookmark. + +"Now that Cousin Eph is provided for, let's go back to Coniston, Uncle +Jethro." A sudden longing was upon her for the peaceful life in the +shelter of the great ridge, and she thought of the village maples all red +and gold with the magic touch of the frosts. "Not that I haven't enjoyed +my trip," she added; "but we are so happy there." + +He did not look at her, because he was afraid to. + +"C-Cynthy," he said, after a little pause, "th-thought we'd go to +Boston." + +"Boston, Uncle Jethro!" + +"Er--to-morrow--at one--to-morrow--like to go to Boston?" + +"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "I remember parts of it. The Common, where +I used to walk with Daddy, and the funny old streets that went uphill. +It will be nice to go back to Coniston that way--over Truro Pass in the +train." + +That night a piece of news flashed over the wires to New England, and the +next morning a small item appeared in the Newcastle Guardian to the +effect that one Ephraim Prescott had bean appointed postmaster at +Brampton. Copied in the local papers of the state, it caused some +surprise in Brampton, to be sure, and excitement in Coniston. Perhaps +there were but a dozen men, however, who saw its real significance, +who knew through this item that Jethro Bass was still supreme-- +that the railroads had failed to carry this first position in their +war against him. + +It was with a light heart the next morning that Cynthia, packed the +little leather trunk which had been her father's. Ephraim was in the +corridor regaling his friend, Mr. Beard, with that wonderful encounter +with General Grant which sounded so much like a Fifth Reader anecdote of +a chance meeting with royalty. Jethro's room was full of visiting +politicians. So Cynthia, when she had finished her packing, went out to +walk about the streets alone, scanning the people who passed her, looking +at the big houses, and wondering who lived in them. Presently she found +herself, in the middle of the morning, seated on a bench in a little +park, surrounded by colored mammies and children playing in the paths. +It seemed a long time since she had left the hills, and this glimpse of +cities had given her many things to think and dream about. Would she +always live in Coniston? Or was her future to be cast among those who +moved in the world and helped to sway it? Cynthia felt that she was to +be of these, though she could not reason why, and she told herself that +the feeling was foolish. Perhaps it was that she knew in the bottom of +her heart that she had been given a spirit and intelligence to cope with +a larger life than that of Coniston. With a sense that such imaginings +were vain, she tried to think what the would do if she were to become a +great lady like Mrs. Duncan. + +She was aroused from these reflections by a distant glimpse, through the +trees, of Mr. Robert Worthington. He was standing quite alone on the +edge of the park, his hands in his pockets, staring at the White House. +Cynthia half rose, and then sat down and looked at him again. He wore a +light gray, loose-fitting suit and a straw hat, and she could not but +acknowledge that there was something stalwart and clean and altogether +appealing in him. She wondered, indeed, why he now failed to appeal to +Miss Duncan, and she began to doubt the sincerity of that young lady's +statements. Bob certainly was not romantic, but he was a man--or would +be very soon. + +Cynthia sat still, although her impulse was to go away. She scarcely +analyzed her feeling of wishing to avoid him. It may not be well, +indeed, to analyze them on paper too closely. She had an instinct that +only pain could come from frequent meetings, and she knew now what but a +week ago was a surmise, that he belonged to the world of which she had +been dreaming--Mrs. Duncan's world. Again, there was that mysterious +barrier between them of which she had seen so many evidences. And yet +she sat still on her bench and looked at him. + +Presently he turned, slowly, as if her eyes had compelled his. She sat +still--it was too late, then. In less than a minute he was standing +beside her, looking down at her with a smile that had in it a touch of +reproach. + +"How do you do, Mr. Worthington?" said Cynthia, quietly. + +"Mr. Worthington!" he cried, "you haven't called me that before." +We are not children any more," she said. + +"What difference does that make?" + +"A great deal," said Cynthia, not caring to define it. + +"Cynthia," said Mr. Worthington, sitting down on the beach and facing +her, "do you think you've treated me just right?" + +"Of course I do," she said, "or I should have treated you differently." + +Bob ignored such quibbling. + +"Why did you run away from that baseball game in Brampton? And why +couldn't you have answered my letter yesterday, if it were only a line? +And why have you avoided me here in Washington?" + +It is very difficult to answer for another questions which one cannot +answer for one's self. + +"I haven't avoided you," said Cynthia. + +"I've been looking for you all over town this morning," said Bob, with +pardonable exaggeration, "and I believe that idiot Somers has, too." + +"Then why should you call him an idiot?" Cynthia flashed. + +Bob laughed. + +"How you do catch a fellow up!" said he; admiringly. "We both found out +you'd gone out for a walk alone." + +"How did you find it out?" + +"Well," said Bob, hesitating, "we asked the colored doorkeeper." + +"Mr. Worthington," said Cynthia, with an indignation that made him quail, +"do you think it right to ask a doorkeeper to spy on my movements?" + +"I'm sorry, Cynthia," he gasped, "I--I didn't think of it that way--and +he won't tell. Desperate cases require desperate remedies, you know." + +But Cynthia was not appeased. + +"If you wanted to see me," she said, "why didn't you send your card to my +room, and I would have come to the parlor." + +"But I did send a note, and waited around all day." + +How was she to tell him that it was to the tone of the note she objected +--to the hint of a clandestine meeting? She turned the light of her eyes +full upon him. + +"Would you have been content to see me in the parlor?" she asked. "Did +you mean to see me there?" + +"Why, yes," said he; "I would have given my head to see you anywhere, +only--" + +"Only what?" + +"Duncan might have came in and spoiled it." + +"Spoiled what?" + +Bob fidgeted. + +"Look here, Cynthia," he said, "you're not stupid--far from it. Of +course you know a fellow would rather talk to you alone." + +"I should have been very glad to have seen Mr. Duncan, too." + +"You would, would you!" he exclaimed. "I shouldn't have thought that." + +"Isn't he your friend?" asked Cynthia. + +"Oh, yes," said Bob, "and one of the best in the world. Only--I +shouldn't have thought you'd care to talk to him." And he looked around" +for fear the vigilant Mr. Duncan was already in the park and had +discovered them. Cynthia smiled, and immediately became grave again. + +"So it was only on Mr. Duncan's account that you didn't ask me to come +down to the parlor?" she said. + +Bob was in a quandary. He was a truthful person, and he had learned +something of the world through his three years at Cambridge. He had seen +many young women, and many kinds of them. But the girl beside him was +such a mixture of innocence and astuteness that he was wholly at a loss +how to deal with her--how to parry her searching questions. + +"Naturally--I wanted to have you all to myself," he said; "you ought to +know that." + +Cynthia did not commit herself on this point. She wished to go +mercilessly to the root of the matter, but the notion of what this would +imply prevented her. Bob took advantage of her silence. + +"Everybody who sees you falls a victim, Cynthia," he went on; "Mrs. +Duncan and Janet lost their hearts. You ought to have heard them +praising you at breakfast." He paused abruptly, thinking of the rest of +that conversation, and laughed. Bob seemed fated to commit himself that +day. "I heard the way you handled Heth Sutton," he said, plunging in. +"I'll bet he felt as if he'd been dropped out of the third-story window," +and Bob laughed again. "I'd have given a thousand dollars to have been +there. Somers and I went out to supper with a classmate who lives in +Washington, in that house over there," and he pointed casually to one of +the imposing mansions fronting on the park. "Mrs. Duncan said she'd never +heard anybody lay it on the way you did. I +don't believe you half know what happened, Cynthia. You made a ten- +strike." + +"A ten-strike?" she repeated. + +"Well," he said, "you not only laid out Heth, but my father and Mr. +Duncan, too. Mrs. Duncan laughed at 'em--she isn't afraid of anything. +But they didn't say a word all through breakfast. I've never seen my +father so mad. He ought to have known better than to run up against +Uncle Jethro." + +"How did they run up against Uncle Jethro?" asked Cynthia, now keenly +interested. + +"Don't you know?" exclaimed Bob, in astonishment. + +"No," said Cynthia, "or I shouldn't have asked." + +"Didn't Uncle Jethro tell you about it?" + +"He never tells me anything about his affairs," she answered. + +Bob's astonishment did not wear off at once. Here was a new phase, and +he was very hard put. He had heard, casually, a good deal of abuse of +Jethro and his methods in the last two days. + +"Well," he said, "I don't know anything about politics. I don't know +myself why father and Mr. Duncan were so eager for this post-mastership. +But they were. And I heard them say something about the President going +back on them when they had telegraphed from Chicago and come to see him +here. And maybe they didn't let Heth in for it. It seems Uncle Jethro +only had to walk up to the White House. They ought to have sense enough +to know that he runs the state. But what's the use of wasting time over +this business?" said Bob. "I told you I was going to Brampton before the +term begins just to see you, didn't I?" + +"Yes, but I didn't believe you," said Cynthia. + +"Why not?" he demanded. + +"Because it's my nature, I suppose," she replied. + +This was too much for Bob, exasperated though he was, and he burst into +laughter. + +"You're the queerest girl I've ever known," he said. + +Not a very original remark. + +"That must be saying a great deal," she answered. + +"Why?" + +"You must have known many." + +"I have," he admitted, "and none of 'em, no matter how much they'd +knocked about, were able to look out for themselves any better than you." + +"Not even Cassandra Hopkins?" Cynthia could not resist saying. She saw +that she had scored; his expressions registered his sensations so +accurately. + +"What do you know about her?" he said. + +"Oh," said Cynthia, mysteriously, "I heard that you were very fond of her +at Andover." + +Bob could not help pluming himself a little. He thought the fact that +she had mentioned the matter a flaw in Cynthia's armor, as indeed it was. +And yet he was not proud of the Cassandra Hopkins episode in his career. + +"Cassandra is one of the institutions at Andover," said he; "most fellows +have to take a course in Cassandra to complete their education." + +"Yours seems to be very complete," Cynthia retorted. + +"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, looking at her, "no wonder you made mince- +meat of the Honorable Heth. Where did you learn it all, Cynthia?" + +Cynthia did not know. She merely wondered where she would be if she +hadn't learned it. Something told her that if it were not for this +anchor she would be drifting out to sea: might, indeed, soon be drifting +out to sea in spite of it. It was one thing for Mr. Robert Worthington, +with his numerous resources, to amuse himself with a girl in her +position; it would be quite another thing for the girl. She got to her +feet and held out her hand to him. + +"Good-by," she said. + +"Good-by?" + +"We are leaving Washington at one o'clock, and Uncle Jethro will be +worried if I am not in time for dinner." + +"Leaving at one! That's the worst luck I've had yet. But I'm going back +to the hotel myself." + +Cynthia didn't see how she was to prevent him walking with her. She +would not have admitted to herself that she had enjoyed this encounter, +since she was trying so hard not to enjoy it. So they started together +out of the park. Bob, for a wonder, was silent awhile, glancing now and +then at her profile. He knew that he had a great deal to say, but he +couldn't decide exactly what it was to be. This is often the case with +young men in his state of mind: in fact, to be paradoxical again, he +might hardly be said at this time to have had a state of mind. He lacked +both an attitude and a policy. + +"If you see Duncan before I do, let me know," he remarked finally. + +Cynthia bit her lip. "Why should I?" she asked. + +"Because we've only got five minutes more alone together, at best. If we +see him in time, we can go down a side street." + +"I think it would be hard to get away from Mr. Duncan if we met him--even +if we wanted to," she said, laughing outright. + +"You don't know how true that is," he replied, with feeling. + +"That sounds as though you'd tried it before." + +He paid no attention to this thrust. + +"I shan't see you again till I get to Brampton," he said; "that will be a +whole week. And then," he ventured to look at her, "I shan't see you +until the Christmas holidays. You might be a little kind, Cynthia. You +know I've--I've always thought the world of you. I don't know how I'm +going to get through the three months without seeing you." + +"You managed to get through a good many years," said Cynthia, looking at +the pavement. + +"I know," he said; "I was sent away to school and college, and our lives +separated." + +"Yes, our lives separated," she assented. + +"And I didn't know you were going to be like--like this," he went on, +vaguely enough, but with feeling. + +"Like what?" + +"Like--well, I'd rather be with you and talk to you than any girl I ever +saw. I don't care who she is," Bob declared, "or how much she may have +traveled." He was running into deep water. "Why are you so cold, +Cynthia?" "Why can't you be as you used to be? You used to like me +well enough." + +"And I like you now," answered Cynthia. They were very near the hotel by +this time. + +"You talk as if you were ten years older than I," he said, smiling +plaintively. + +She stopped and turned to him, smiling. They had reached the steps. + +"I believe I am, Bob," she replied. "I haven't seen much of the world, +but I've seen something of its troubles. Don't be foolish. If you're +coming to Brampton just to see me, don't come. Good-by." And she gave +him her hand frankly. + +"But I will come to Brampton," he cried, taking her hand and squeezing +it. "I'd like to know why I shouldn't come." + +As Cynthia drew her hand away a gentleman came out of the hotel, paused +for a brief moment by the door and stared at them, and then passed on +without a word or a nod of recognition. It was Mr. Worthington. Bob +looked after his father, and then glanced at Cynthia. There was a trifle +more color in her cheeks, and her head was raised a little, and her eyes +were fixed upon him gravely. + +"You should know why not," she said, and before he could answer her she +was gone into the hotel. He did not attempt to follow her, but stood +where she had left him in the sunlight. + +He was aroused by the voice of the genial colored doorkeeper. + +"Wal, suh, you found the lady, Mistah Wo'thington. Thought you would, +suh. T'other young gentleman come in while ago--looked as if he was +feelin' powerful bad, Mistah Wo'thington." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +When they reached Boston, Cynthia felt almost as if she were home again, +and Ephraim declared that he had had the same feeling when he returned +from the war. Though it be the prosperous capital of New England, it is +a city of homes, and the dwellers of it have held stanchly to the belief +of their forefathers that the home is the very foundation-rock of the +nation. Held stanchly to other beliefs, too: that wealth carries with it +some little measure of responsibility. The stranger within the gates of +that city feels that if he falls, a heedless world will not go charging +over his body: that a helping hand will be stretched out,--a helping and +a wise hand that will inquire into the circumstances of his fall--but +still a human hand. + +They were sitting in the parlor of the Tremont House that morning with +the sun streaming in the windows, waiting for Ephraim. + +"Uncle Jethro," Cynthia asked, abruptly, "did you ever know my mother?" + +Jethro started, and looked at her quickly. + +"W-why, Cynthy?" he asked. + +"Because she grew up in Coniston," answered Cynthia. "I never thought of +it before, but of course you must have known her." + +"Yes, I knew her," he said. + +"Did you know her well?" she persisted. + +Jethro got up and went over to the window, where he stood with his back +toward her. + +"Yes, Cynthy," he answered at length. + +"Why haven't you ever told me about her?" asked Cynthia. How was she to +know that her innocent questions tortured him cruelly; that the spirit of +the Cynthia who had come to him in the tannery house had haunted him all +his life, and that she herself, a new Cynthia, was still that spirit? The +bygone Cynthia had been much in his thoughts since they came to +Boston. + +"What was she like?" + +"She--she was like you, Cynthy," he said, but he did not turn round. +"She was a clever woman, and a good woman, and--a lady, Cynthy." + +The girl said nothing for a while, but she tingled with pleasure because +Jethro had compared her to her mother. She determined to try to be like +that, if he thought her so. + +"Uncle Jethro," she said presently, "I'd like to go to see the house +where she lived." + +"Er--Ephraim knows it," said Jethro. + +So when Ephraim came the three went over the hill; past the State House +which Bulfinch set as a crown on the crest of it looking over the sweep +of the Common, and on into the maze of quaint, old-world streets on the +slope beyond: streets with white porticos, and violet panes in the +windows. They came to an old square hidden away on a terrace of the +hill, and after that the streets grew narrower and dingier. Ephraim, +whose memory never betrayed him, hobbled up to a shabby house in the +middle of one of these blocks and rang the bell. + +"Here's where I found Will when I come back from the war," he said, and +explained the matter in full to the slatternly landlady who came to the +door. She was a good-natured woman, who thought her boarder would not +mind, and led the way up the steep stairs to the chamber over the roofs +where Wetherell and Cynthia had lived and hoped and worked together; +where he had written those pages by which, with the aid of her loving +criticism, he had thought to become famous. The room was as bare now as +it had been then, and Ephraim, poking his stick through a hole in the +carpet, ventured the assertion that even that had not been changed. Jethro, +staring out over the chimney tops, passed his hand across his +eyes. Cynthia Ware had come to this! + +"I found him right here in that bed," Ephraim was saying, and he poked +the bottom boards, too. "The same bed. Had a shack when I saw him. +Callate he wouldn't have lived two months if the war hadn't bust up +and I hadn't come along." + +"Oh, Cousin Eph!" exclaimed Cynthia. + +The old soldier turned and saw that there were tears in her eyes. But, +stranger than that, Cynthia saw that there were tears in his own. He +took her gently by the arm and led her down the stairs again, she +supporting him, and Jethro following. + +That same morning, Jethro, whose memory was quite as good as Ephraim's, +found a little shop tucked away in Cornhill which had been miraculously +spared in the advance of prosperity. Mr. Judson's name, however, was no +longer in quaint lettering over the door. Standing before it, Jethro +told the story in his droll way, of a city clerk and a country bumpkin, +and Cynthia and Ephraim both laughed so heartily that the people who were +passing turned round to look at them and laughed too. For the three were +an unusual group, even in Boston. It was not until they were seated at +dinner in the hotel, Ephraim with his napkin tucked under his chin, that +Jethro gave them the key to the characters in this story. + +"And who was the locket for, Uncle Jethro?" demanded Cynthia. + +Jethro, however, shook his head, and would not be induced to tell. + +They were still so seated when Cynthia perceived coming toward them +through the crowded dining roam a merry, middle-aged gentleman with a +bald head. He seemed to know everybody in the room, for he was kept busy +nodding right and left at the tables until he came to theirs. He was Mr. +Merrill who had come to see her father in Coniston, and who had spoken so +kindly to her on that occasion. + +"Well, well, well," he said; "Jethro, you'll be the death of me yet. +'Don't write-send,' eh? Well, as long as you sent word you were here, I +don't complain. So you licked 'em again, eh--down in Washington? Never +had a doubt but what you would. Is this the new postmaster? How are +you, Mr. Prescott--and Cynthia--a young lady! Bless my soul," said Mr. +Merrill, looking her over as he shook her hand. "What have you done to +her, Jethro? What kind of beauty powder do they use in Coniston?" + +Mr. Merrill took the seat next to her and continued to talk, scattering +his pleasantries equally among the three, patting her arm when her own +turn came. She liked Mr. Merrill very much; he seemed to her (as, +indeed, he was) honest and kind-hearted. Cynthia was not lacking in a +proper appreciation of herself--that may have been discovered. But she +was puzzled to know why this gentleman should make it a point to pay such +particular attention to a young country girl. Other railroad presidents +whom she could name had not done so. She was thinking of these things, +rather than listening to Mr. Merrill's conversation, when the sound of +Mr. Worthington's name startled her. + +"Well, Jethro," Mr. Merrill was saying, "you certainly nipped this little +game of Worthington's in the bud. Thought he'd take you in the rear by +going to Washington, did he? Ha, ha! I'd like to know how you did it. +I'll get you to tell me to-night--see if I don't. You're all coming in +to supper to-night, you know, at seven o'clock." + +Ephraim laid down his knife and fork for the first time. Were the +wonders of this journey never to cease? And Jethro, once in his life, +looked nervous. + +"Er--er--Cyn'thy'll go, Steve--Cynthy'll go." + +"Yes, Cynthy'll go," laughed Mr. Merrill, "and you'll go, and Ephraim'll +go." Although he by no means liked everybody, as would appear at first +glance, Mr. Merrill had a way of calling people by their first names when +he did fancy them. + +"Er--Steve," said Jethro, "what would your wife say if I was to drink +coffee out of my saucer?" + +"Let's see," said Mr. Merrill grave for once. "What's the punishment for +that in my house? I know what she'd do if you didn't drink it. What do +you think she'd do, Cynthy?" + +"Ask him what was the matter with it," said Cynthia, promptly. + +"Well, Cynthy," said he, "I know why these old fellows take you round +with 'em. To take care of 'em, eh? They're not fit to travel alone." + +And so it was settled, after much further argument, that they were all to +sup at Mr. Merrill's house, Cynthia stoutly maintaining that she would +not desert them. And then Mr. Merrill, having several times repeated the +street and number, went, back to his office. There was much mysterious +whispering between Ephraim and Jethro in the hotel parlor after dinner, +while Cynthia was turning over the leaves of a magazine, and then Ephraim +proposed going out to see the sights. + +"Where's Uncle Jethro going?" she asked. + +"He'll meet us," said Ephraim, promptly, but his voice was not quite +steady. + +"Oh, Uncle Jethro!" cried Cynthia, "you're trying to get out of it. You +remember you promised to meet us in Washington." + +"Guess he'll keep this app'intment," said Ephraim, who seemed to be full +of a strange mirth that bubbled over, for he actually winked at Jethro. + Cynthia's mind flew to Bunker Bill and the old North Church, but they +went first to Faneuil Hall. Presently they found themselves among the +crowd in Washington Street, where Ephraim confessed the trepidation which +he felt over the coming supper party: a trepidation greater, so he +declared many times, than he had ever experienced before any of his +battles in the war. He stopped once or twice in the eddy of the crowd to +glance up at the numbers; and finally came to a halt before the windows +of a large dry-goods store. + +"I guess I ought to buy a new shirt for this occasion, Cynthy," he said, +staring hard at the articles of apparel displayed there: "Let's go in." + +Cynthia laughed outright, since Ephraim could not by any chance have worn +any of the articles in question. + +"Why, Cousin Ephraim," she exclaimed, "you can't buy gentlemen's things +here." + +"Oh, I guess you can," said Ephraim, and hobbled confidently in at the +doorway. There we will leave him for a while conversing in an undertone +with a floor-walker, and follow Jethro. He, curiously enough, had some +fifteen minutes before gone in at the same doorway, questioned the same +floor-walker, and he found himself in due time walking amongst a +bewildering lot of models on the third floor, followed by a giggling +saleswoman. + +"What kind of a dress do you want, sir?" asked the saleslady,--for we are +impelled to call her so. + +"S-silk cloth," said Jethro. + +"What shades of silk would you like, sir?" + +"Shades? shades? What do you mean by shades?" + +"Why, colors," said the saleslady, giggling openly. + +"Green," said Jethro, with considerable emphasis. + +The saleslady clapped her hand over her mouth and led the way to another +model. + +"You don't call that green--do you? That's not green enough." + +They inspected another dress, and then another and another,--not all of +them were green,--Jethro expressing very decided if not expert views on +each of them. At last he paused before two models at the far end of the +room, passing his hand repeatedly over each as he had done so often with +the cattle of Coniston. + +"These two pieces same kind of goods?" he demanded. + +"Yes." + +"Er-this one is a little shinier than that one?" + +"Perhaps the finish is a little higher," ventured the saleslady. + +"Sh-shinier," said Jethro. + +"Yes, shinier, if you please to call it so." + +"W-what would you call it?" + +By this time the saleslady had become quite hysterical, and altogether +incapable of performing her duties. Jethro looked at her for a moment in +disgust, and in his predicament cast around for another to wait on him. +There was no lack of these, at a safe distance, but they all seemed to be +affected by the same mania. Jethro's eye alighted upon the back of +another customer. She was, apparently, a respectable-looking lady of +uncertain age, and her own attention was so firmly fixed in the +contemplation of a model that she had not remarked the merriment about +her, nor its cause. She did not see Jethro, either, as he strode across +to her. Indeed, her first intimation of his presence was a dig in her +arm. The lady turned, gave a gasp of amazement at the figure confronting +her, and proceeded to annihilate it with an eye that few women possess. + +"H-how do, Ma'am," he said. Had he known anything about the appearance +of women in general, he might have realized that he had struck a tartar. +This lady was at least sixty-five, and probably unmarried. Her face, +though not at all unpleasant, was a study in character-development: she +wore ringlets, a peculiar bonnet of a bygone age, and her clothes had +certain eccentricities which, for, lack of knowledge, must be omitted. +In short, the lady was no fool, and not being one she glanced at the +giggling group of saleswomen and--wonderful to relate--they stopped +giggling. Then she looked again at Jethro and gave him a smile. +One of superiority, no doubt, but still a smile. + +"How do you do, sir?" + +"T-trying to buy a silk cloth gown for a woman. There's two over here I +fancied a little. Er--thought perhaps you'd help me." + +"Where are the dresses?" she demanded abruptly. + +Jethro led the way in silence until they came to the models. She planted +herself in front of them and looked them over swiftly but critically. + +"What is the age of the lady?" + +"W-what difference does that make?" said Jethro, whose instinct was +against committing himself to strangers. + +"Difference!" she exclaimed sharply, "it makes a considerable difference. +Perhaps not to you, but to the lady. What coloring is she?" + +"C-coloring? She's white." + +His companion turned her back on him. + +"What size is she?" + +"A-about that size," said Jethro, pointing to a model. + +"About! about!" she ejaculated, and then she faced him. "Now look here, +my friend," she said vigorously, "there's something very mysterious about +all this. You look like a good man, but you may be a very wicked one for +all I know. I've lived long enough to discover that appearances, +especially where your sex is concerned, are deceitful. Unless you are +willing to tell me who this lady is for whom you are buying silk dresses, +and what your relationship is to her, I shall leave you. And mind, no +evasions. I can detect the truth pretty well when I hear it." + +Unexpected as it was, Jethro gave back a step or two before this +onslaught of feminine virtue, and the movement did not tend to raise him +in the lady's esteem. He felt that he would rather face General Grant a +thousand times than this person. She was, indeed, preparing to sweep +away when there came a familiar tap-tap behind them on the bare floor, +and he turned to behold Ephraim hobbling toward them with the aid of his +green umbrella, Cynthia by his side. + +"Why, it's Uncle Jethro," cried Cynthia, looking at him and the lady in +astonishment, and then with equal astonishment at the models. "What in +the world are you doing here?" Then a light seemed to dawn on her. + +"You frauds! So this is what you were whispering about! This is the way +Cousin Ephraim buys his shirts!" + +"C-Cynthy," said Jethro, apologetically, "d-don't you think you ought to +have a nice city dress for that supper party?" + +"So you're ashamed of my country clothes, are you?" she asked gayly. + +"W-want you to have the best, Cynthy," he replied. "I-I-meant to have it +all chose and bought when you come, but I got into a kind of argument +with this lady." + +"Argument!" exclaimed the lady. But she did not seem displeased. She +had been staring very fixedly at Cynthia. "My dear," she continued +kindly, "you look like some one I used to know a long, long time ago, and +I'll be glad to help you. Your uncle may be sensible enough in other +matters, but I tell him frankly he is out of place here. Let him go away +and sit down somewhere with the other gentleman, and we'll get the dress +between us, if he'll tell us how much to pay." + +"P-pay anything, so's you get it," said Jethro. + +"Uncle Jethro, do you really want it so much?" + +It must not be thought that Cynthia did not wish for a dress, too. But +the sense of dependence on Jethro and the fear of straining his purse +never quite wore off. So Jethro and Ephraim took to a bench at some +distance, and at last a dress was chosen--not one of the gorgeous models +Jethro had picked out, but a pretty, simple, girlish gown which Cynthia +herself had liked and of which the lady highly approved. Not content +with helping to choose it, the lady must satisfy herself that it fit, +which it did perfectly. And so Cynthia was transformed into a city +person, though her skin glowed with a health with which few city people +are blessed. + +"My dear," said the lady, still staring at her, "you look very well. I +should scarcely have supposed it." Cynthia took the remark in good part, +for she thought the lady a character, which she was. "I hope you will +remember that we women were created for a higher purpose than mere +beauty. The Lord gave us brains, and meant that we should use them. If +you have a good mind, as I believe you have, learn to employ it for the +betterment of your sex, for the time of our emancipation is at hand." +Having delivered this little lecture, the lady continued to stare at her +with keen eyes. "You look very much like someone I used to love when I +was younger. What is your name." + +"Cynthia Wetherell." + +"Cynthia Wetherell? Was your mother Cynthia Ware, from Coniston?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia, amazed. + +In an instant the strange lady had risen and had taken Cynthia in her +embrace, new dress and all. + +"My dear," she said, "I thought your face had a familiar look. It was +your mother I knew and loved. I'm Miss Lucretia Penniman." + +Miss Lucretia Penniman! Could this be, indeed, the authoress of the +"Hymn to Coniston," of whom Brampton was so proud? The Miss Lucretia +Penniman who sounded the first clarion note for the independence of +American women, the friend of Bryant and Hawthorne and Longfellow? +Cynthia had indeed heard of her. Did not all Brampton point to the +house which had held the Social Library as to a shrine? + +"Cynthia," said Miss Lucretia, "I have a meeting now of a girls' charity +to which I must go, but you will come to me at the offices of the Woman's +Hour to-morrow morning at ten. I wish to talk to you about your mother +and yourself." + +Cynthia promised, provided they did not leave for Coniston earlier, and +in that event agreed to write. Whereupon Miss Lucretia kissed her again +and hurried off to her meeting. On the way back to the Tremont House +Cynthia related excitedly the whole circumstance to Jethro and Ephraim. +Ephraim had heard of Miss Lucretia, of course. Who had not? But he did +not read the Woman's Hour. Jethro was silent. Perhaps he was thinking +of that fresh summer morning, so long ago, when a girl in a gig had +overtaken him in the canon made by the Brampton road through the woods. +The girl had worn a poke bonnet, and was returning a book to this same +Miss Lucretia Penniman's Social Library. And the book was the "Life of +Napoleon Bonaparte." + +"Uncle Jethro, shall we still be in Boston to-morrow morning?" Cynthia +asked. + +He roused himself. "Yes," he said, "yes." "When are you going home?" + +He did not answer this simple question, but countered. "Hain't you +enjoyin' yourself, Cynthy?" + +"Of course I am," she declared. But she thought it strange that he would +not tell her when they would be in Coniston. + +Ephraim did buy a new shirt, and also (in view of the postmastership in +his packet) a new necktie, his old one being slightly frayed. + +The grandeur of the approaching supper party and the fear of Mrs. Merrill +hung very heavy over him; nor was Jethro's mind completely at rest. +Ephraim even went so far as to discuss the question as to whether +Mr. Merrill had not surpassed his authority in inviting him, and full +expected to be met at the door by that gentleman uttering profuse +apologies, which Ephraim was quite prepared and willing to take in good +faith. + +Nothing of the kind happened, however. Mr. Merrill's railroad being a +modest one, his house was modest likewise. But Ephraim thought it grand +enough, and yet acknowledged a homelike quality in its grandeur. He +began by sitting on the edge of the sofa and staring at the cut-glass +chandelier, but in five minutes he discovered with a shock of surprise +that he was actually leaning back, describing in detail how his regiment +had been cheered as they marched through Boston. And incredible as it +may seem, the person whom he was entertaining in this manner was Mrs. +Stephen Merrill herself. Mrs. Merrill was as tall as Mr. Merrill was +short. She wore a black satin dress with a big cameo brooch pinned at +her throat, her hair was gray, and her face almost masculine until it +lighted up with a wonderfully sweet smile. That smile made Ephraim and +Jethro feel at home; and Cynthia, too, who liked Mrs. Merrill the moment +she laid eyes on her. + +Then there were the daughters, Jane and Susan, who welcomed her with a +hospitality truly amazing for city people. Jane was big-boned like her +mother, but Susan was short and plump and merry like her father. Susan +talked and laughed, and Jane sat and listened and smiled, and Cynthia +could not decide which she liked the best. And presently they all went +into the dining room to supper, where there was another chandelier over +the table. There was also real silver, which shone brilliantly on the +white cloth--but there was nothing to eat. + +"Do tell us another story, Mr. Prescott," said Susan, who had listened to +his last one. + +The sight of the table, however, had for the moment upset Ephraim, "Get +Jethro to tell you how he took dinner with Jedge Binney," he said. + +This suggestion, under the circumstances, might not have been a happy +one, but its lack of appropriateness did not strike Jethro either. He +yielded to the demand. + +"Well," he said, "I supposed I was goin' to set down same as I would at +home, where we put the vittles on the table. W-wondered what I was goin' +to eat--wahn't nothin' but a piece of bread on the table. S-sat there +and watched 'em--nobody ate anything. Presently I found out that +Binney's wife ran her house same as they run hotels. Pretty soon a +couple of girls come in and put down some food and took it away again +before you had a chance. A-after a while we had coffee, and when I set +my cup on the table, I noticed Mis' Binney looked kind of cross and began +whisperin' to the girls. One of 'em fetched a small plate and took my +cup and set it on the plate. That was all right. I used the plate. + +"Well, along about next summer Binney had to come to Coniston to see me +on a little matter and fetched his wife. Listy, my wife, was alive then. +I'd made up my mind that if I could ever get Mis' Binney to eat at my +place I would, so I asked 'em to stay to dinner. When we set down, I +said: 'Now, Mis' Binney, you and the Judge take right hold, and anything +you can't reach, speak out and we'll wait on you.' And Mis' Binney?' + +"Yes," she said. She was a little mite scared, I guess. B-begun to +suspect somethin'." + +"Mis' Binney," said I, "y-you can set your cup and sarcer where you've a +mind to.' O-ought to have heard the Judge laugh. Says he to his wife: +'Fanny, I told you Jethro'd get even with you some time for that sarcer +business.'" + +This story, strange as it may seem, had a great success at Mr. Merrill's +table. Mr. Merrill and his daughter Susan shrieked with laughter when it +was finished, while Mrs. Merrill and Jane enjoyed themselves quite as +much in their quiet way. Even the two neat Irish maids, who were serving +the supper very much as poor Mis' Binney's had been served, were fain to +leave the dining room abruptly, and one of them disgraced herself at +sight of Jethro when she came in again, and had to go out once mare. Mrs. +Merrill insisted that Jethro should pour out his coffee in what she +was pleased to call the old-fashioned way. All of which goes to prove +that table-silver and cut glass chandeliers do not invariably make their +owners heartless and inhospitable. And Ephraim, whose plan of campaign +had been to eat nothing to speak of and have a meal when he got back to +the hotel, found that he wasn't hungry when he arose from the table. + +There was much bantering of Jethro by Mr. Merrill, which the ladies did +not understand--talk of a mighty coalition of the big railroads which was +to swallow up the little railroads. Fortunately, said Mr. Merrill, +humorously, fortunately they did not want his railroad. Or +unfortunately, which was it? Jethro didn't know. He never laughed at +anybody's jokes. But Cynthia, who was listening with one ear while Susan +talked into the other, gathered that Jethro had been struggling with the +railroads, and was sooner or later to engage in a mightier struggle with +them. How, she asked herself in her innocence, was any one, even Uncle +Jethro, to struggle with a railroad? Many other people in these latter +days have asked themselves that very question. + +All together the evening at Mr. Merrill's passed off so quickly and so +happily that Ephraim was dismayed when he discovered that it was ten +o'clock, and he began to make elaborate apologies to the ladies. But +Jethro and Mr. Merrill were still closeted together in the dining room: +once Mrs. Merrill had been called to that conference, and had returned +after a while to take her place quietly again among the circle of +Ephraim's listeners. Now Mr. Merrill came out of the dining room alone. + +"Cynthia," he said, and his tone was a little more grave than usual, +"your Uncle Jethro wants to speak to you." + +Cynthia rose, with a sense of something in the air which concerned her, +and went into the dining room. Was it the light falling from above that +brought out the lines of his face so strongly? Cynthia did not know, but +she crossed the room swiftly and sat down beside him. + +"What is it, Uncle Jethro?" + +"C-Cynthy," he said, putting his hand over hers on the table, "I want you +to do something for me er--for me," he repeated, emphasizing the last +word. + +"I'll do anything in the world for you, Uncle Jethro," she answered; "you +know that. What--what is it?" + +"L-like Mr. Merrill, don't you?" "Yes, indeed." + +"L-like Mrs. Merrill--like the gals--don't you?" "Very much," said Cynthia, +perplexedly. + +"Like 'em enough to--to live with 'em a winter?" + +"Live with them a winter!" + +"C-Cynthy, I want you should stay in Boston this winter and go to a young +ladies' school." + +It was out. He had said it, though he never quite knew where he had +found the courage. + +"Uncle Jethro!" she cried. She could only look at him in dismay, but the +tears came into her eyes and sparkled. + +"You--you'll be happy here, Cynthy. It'll be a change for you. And I +shan't be so lonesome as you'd think. I'll--I'll be busy this winter, +Cynthy." + +"You know that I wouldn't leave you, Uncle Jethro," she said +reproachfully. "I should be lonesome, if you wouldn't. You would be +lonesome--you know you would be." + +"You'll do this for me, Cynthy. S-said you would, didn't you--said you +would?" + +"Why do you want me to do this?" + +"W-want you to go to school for a winter, Cynthy. Shouldn't think I'd +done right by you if I didn't." + +"But I have been to school. Daddy taught me a lot, and Mr. Satterlee has +taught me a great deal more. I know as much as most girls of my age, and +I will study so hard in Coniston this winter, if that is what you want. +I've never neglected my lessons, Uncle Jethro." + +"Tain't book-larnin'--'tain't what you'd get in book larnin' in Boston, +Cynthy." + +"What, then?" she asked. + +"Well," said Jethro, "they'd teach you to be a lady, Cynthy." + +"A lady!" + +"Your father come of good people, and--and your mother was a lady. I'm +only a rough old man, Cynthy, and I don't know much about the ways of +fine folks. But you've got it in ye, and I want you should be equal to +the best of 'em: You can. And I shouldn't die content unless I'd felt +that you'd had the chance. Er--Cynthy--will you do it for me?" + +She was silent a long while before she turned to him, and then the tears +were running very swiftly down her cheeks. + +"Yes, I will do it for you," she answered. "Uncle Jethro, I believe you +are the best man, in the world." + +"D-don't say that, Cynthy--d-don't say that," he exclaimed, and a sharp +agony was in his voice. He got to his feet and went to the folding doors +and opened them. "Steve!" he called, "Steve!" + +"S-says she'll stay, Steve." + +Mr. Merrill had come in, followed by his wife. Cynthia saw them but +dimly through her tears. And while she tried to wipe the tears away she +felt Mrs. Merrill's arm about her, and heard that lady say:-- + "We'll try to make you very happy, my dear, and send you back safely in +the spring." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +An attempt will be made in these pages to set down such incidents which +alone may be vital to this chronicle, now so swiftly running on. The +reasons why Mr. Merrill was willing to take Cynthia into his house must +certainly be clear to the reader. In the first place, he was under very +heavy obligations to Jethro Bass for many favors; in the second place, +Mr. Merrill had a real affection for Jethro, which, strange as it may +seem to some, was quite possible; and in the third place, Mr. Merrill had +taken a fancy to Cynthia, and he had never forgotten the unintentional +wrong he had done William Wetherell. Mr. Merrill was a man of impulses, +and generally of good impulses. Had he not himself urged upon Jethro the +arrangement, it would never have come about. Lastly, he had invited +Cynthia to his house that his wife might inspect her, and Mrs. Merrill's +verdict had been instant and favorable--a verdict not given in words. A +single glance was sufficient, for these good people so understood each +other that Mrs. Merrill had only to raise her eyes to her husband's, and +this she did shortly after the supper party began; while she was pouring +the coffee, to be exact. Thus the compact that Cynthia was to spend the +winter in their house was ratified. + +There was, first of all, the parting with Jethro and the messages with +which he and Ephraim were laden for the whole village and town of +Coniston. It was very hard, that parting, and need not be dwelt upon. +Ephraim waved his blue handkerchief as the train pulled out, but Jethro +stood on the platform, silent and motionless: more eloquent in his +sorrow--so Mr. Merrill thought--than any human being he had ever known. +Mr. Merrill wondered if Jethro's sorrow were caused by this parting +alone; he believed it was not, and suddenly guessed at the true note of +it. Having come by chance upon the answer to the riddle, Mr. Merrill +stood still with his hand on the carriage door and marvelled that he had +not seen it all sooner. He was a man to take to heart the troubles of +his friends. A subtle change had indeed come over Jethro, and he was not +the same man Mr. Merrill had known for many years. Would others, the men +with whom Jethro contended and the men he commanded, mark this change? +And what effect would it have on the conflict for the mastery of a state +which was to be waged from now on? + +"Father," said his daughter Susan, "if you don't get in and close the +door, we'll drive off and leave you standing on the sidewalk." + +Thus Cynthia went to her new friends in their own carriage. Mrs. Merrill +was goodness itself, and loved the girl for what she was. How, indeed, +was she to help loving her? Cynthia was scrupulous in her efforts to +give no trouble, and yet she never had the air of a dependent or a +beneficiary; but held her head high, and when called upon gave an opinion +as though she had a right to it. The very first morning Susan, who was +prone to be late to breakfast, came down in a great state of excitement +and laughter. + +"What do you think Cynthia's done, Mother?" she cried. "I went into her +room a while ago, and it was all swept and aired, and she was making up +the bed." + +"That's an excellent plan," said Mrs. Merrill, "tomorrow morning you +three girls will have a race to see who makes up her room first." + +It is needless to say that the race at bed-making never came off, Susan +and Jane having pushed Cynthia into a corner as soon as breakfast was +over, and made certain forcible representations which she felt bound to +respect, and a treaty was drawn up and faithfully carried out, between +the three, that she was to do her own room if necessary to her happiness. +The chief gainer by the arrangement was the chambermaid. + +Odd as it may seem, the Misses Merrill lived amicably enough with +Cynthia. It is a difficult matter to force an account of the +relationship of five people living in one house into a few pages, but the +fact that the Merrills had large hearts makes this simpler. There are +few families who can accept with ease the introduction of a stranger into +their midst, even for a time, and there are fewer strangers who can with +impunity be introduced. The sisters quarrelled among themselves as all +sisters will, and sometimes quarrelled with Cynthia. But oftener they +made her the arbiter of their disputes, and asked her advice on certain +matters. Especially was this true of Susan, whom certain young gentlemen +from Harvard College called upon more or less frequently, and Cynthia had +all of Susan's love affairs--including the current one--by heart in a +very short time. + +As for Cynthia, there were many subjects on which she had to take the +advice of the sisters. They did not criticise the joint creations of +herself and Miss Sukey Kittredge as frankly as Janet Duncan had done; but +Jethro had left in Mrs. Merrill's hands a certain sufficient sum for new +dresses for Cynthia, and in due time the dresses were got and worn. To +do them justice, the sisters were really sincere in their rejoicings over +the very wonderful transformation which they had been chiefly +instrumental in effecting. + +It is not a difficult task to praise a heroine, and one that should be +indulged in but charily. But let some little indulgence be accorded this +particular heroine by reason of the life she had led, and the situation +in which she now found herself: a poor Coniston girl, dependent on one +who was not her father, though she loved him as a father; beholden to +these good people who dwelt in a world into which she had no reasonable +expectations of entering, and which, to tell the truth, she now feared. + +It was inevitable that Cynthia should be brought into contact with many +friends and relations of the family. Some of these noticed and admired +her; others did neither; others gossiped about Mrs. Merrill behind her +back at her own dinners and sewing circles and wondered what folly could +have induced her to bring the girl into her house. But Mrs. Merrill, +like many generous people who do not stop to calculate a kindness, was +always severely criticised. + +And then there were Jane's and Susan's friends, in and out of Miss +Sadler's school. For Mrs. Merrill's influence had been sufficient to +induce Miss Sadler to take Cynthia as a day scholar with her own +daughters. This, be it known, was a great concession on the part of Miss +Sadler, who regarded Cynthia's credentials as dubious enough; and her +young ladies were inclined to regard them so, likewise. Some of these +young ladies came from other cities,--New York and Philadelphia and +elsewhere,--and their fathers and mothers were usually people to be +mentioned as a matter of course--were, indeed, frequently so mentioned by +Miss Sadler, especially when a visitor called at the school. + +"Isabel, I saw that your mother sailed for Europe yesterday," or, "Sally, +your father tells me he is building a gallery for his collection." Then +to the visitor, "You know the Broke house in Washington Square, of +course." + +Of course the visitor did. But Sally or Isabel would often imitate Miss +Sadler behind her back, showing how well they understood her +snobbishness. + +Miss Sadler was by no means the type which we have come to recognize in +the cartoons as the Boston school ma'am. She was a little, round person +with thin lips and a sharp nose all out of character with her roundness, +and bright eyes like a bird's. To do her justice, so far as instruction +went, her scholars were equally well cared for, whether they hailed from +Washington Square or Washington Court House. There were, indeed, none +from such rural sorts of places--except Cynthia. But Miss Sadler did not +take her hand on the opening day--or afterward--and ask her about Uncle +Jethro. Oh, no. Miss Sadler had no interest for great men who did not +sail for Europe or add picture galleries on to their houses. Cynthia +laughed, a little bitterly, perhaps, at the thought of a picture gallery +being added to the tannery house. And she told herself stoutly that +Uncle Jethro was a greater man than any of the others, even if Miss +Sadler did not see fit to mention him. So she had her first taste of a +kind of wormwood that is very common in the world though it did not grow +in Coniston. + +For a while after Cynthia's introduction to the school she was calmly +ignored by many of the young ladies there, and once openly--snubbed, to +use the word in its most disagreeable sense. Not that she gave any of +them any real cause to snub her. She did not intrude her own affairs +upon them, but she was used to conversing kindly with the people about +her as equals, and for this offence; on the third day, Miss Sally Broke +snubbed her. It is hard not to make a heroine of Cynthia, not to be able +to relate that she instantly put Miss Sally's nose out of joint. Susan +Merrill tried to do that, and failed signally, for Miss Sally's nose was +not easily dislodged. Susan fought more than one of Cynthia's battles. +As a matter of fact, Cynthia did not know that she had been affronted +until that evening. She did not tell her friends how she spent the night +yearning fiercely for Coniston and Uncle Jethro, at times weeping for +them, if the truth be told; how she had risen before the dawn to write a +letter, and to lay some things in the rawhide trunk. The letter was +never sent, and the packing never finished. Uncle Jethro wished her to +stay and to learn to be a lady, and stay she would, in spite of Miss +Broke and the rest of them. She went to school the next day, and for +many days and weeks thereafter, and held communion with the few alone who +chose to treat her pleasantly. Unquestionably this is making a heroine +of Cynthia. + +If young men are cruel in their schools, what shall be written of young +women? It would be better to say that both are thoughtless. Miss Sally +Broke, strange as it may seem, had a heart, and many of the other young +ladies whose fathers sailed for Europe and owned picture galleries; but +these young ladies were absorbed, especially after vacation, in affairs +of which a girl from Coniston had no part. Their friends were not her +friends, their amusements not her amusements, and their talk not her +talk. But Cynthia watched them, as was her duty, and gradually absorbed +many things which are useful if not essential--outward observances of +which the world takes cognizance, and which she had been sent there by +Uncle Jethro to learn. Young people of Cynthia's type and nationality +are the most adaptable in the world. + +Before the December snows set in Cynthia had made one firm friend, at +least, in Boston; outside of the Merrill family. That friend was Miss +Lucretia Penniman, editress of the Woman's Hour. Miss Lucretia lived in +the queerest and quaintest of the little houses tucked away under the +hill, with the back door a story higher than the fronts an arrangement +which in summer enabled the mistress to walk out of her sitting-room +windows into a little walled garden. In winter that sitting room was the +sunniest, cosiest room in the city, and Cynthia spent many hours there, +reading or listening to the wisdom that fell from the lips of Miss +Lucretia or her guests. The sitting room had uneven, yellow-white +panelling that fairly shone with enamel, mahogany bookcases filled with +authors who had chosen to comply with Miss Lucretia's somewhat rigorous +censorship; there was a table laden with such magazines as had to do with +the uplifting of a sex, a delightful wavy floor covered with a rose +carpet; and, needless to add, not a pin or a pair of scissors out of +place in the whole apartment. + +There is no intention of enriching these pages with Miss Lucretia's +homilies. Their subject-matter may be found in the files of the Woman's +Hour. She did not always preach, although many people will not believe +this statement. Miss Lucretia, too, had a heart, though she kept it +hidden away, only to be brought out on occasions when she was sure of its +appreciation, and she grew strangely interested in this self-contained +girl from Coniston whose mother she had known. Miss Lucretia understood +Cynthia, who also was the kind who kept her heart hidden, the kind who +conceal their troubles and sufferings because they find it difficult to +give them out. So Miss Lucretia had Cynthia to take supper with her at +least once in the week, and watched her quietly, and let her speak of as +much of her life as she chose--which was not much, at first. But Miss +Lucretia was content to wait, and guessed at many things which Cynthia +did not tell her, and made some personal effort, unknown to Cynthia, to +find out other things. It will be said that she had designs on the girl. +If so, they were generous designs; and perhaps it was inevitable that +Miss Lucretia should recognize in every young woman of spirit and brains +a possible recruit for the cause. + +It has now been shown in some manner and as briefly as possible how +Cynthia's life had changed, and what it had become. We have got her +partly through the winter, and find her still dreaming of the sparkling +snow on Coniston and of the wind whirling it on clear, cold days like +smoke among the spruces; of Uncle Jethro sitting by his stove through the +long evenings all alone; of Rias in his store and Moses Hatch and Lem +Hallowell, and Cousin Ephraim in his new post-office. Uncle Jethro wrote +for the first time in his life--letters: short letters, but in his own +handwriting, and deserving of being read for curiosity's sake if there +were time. The wording was queer enough and guarded enough, but they +were charged with a great affection which clung to them like lavender. + +And Cynthia kept them every one, and read them over on such occasions +when she felt that she could not live another minute out of sight of her +mountain. + +Such was the state of affairs one gray afternoon in December when +Cynthia, who was sitting in Mrs. Merrill's parlor, suddenly looked up +from her book to discover that two young men were in the room. The young +men were apparently quite as much surprised as she, and the parlor maid +stood grinning behind them. + +"Tell Miss Susan and Miss Jane, Ellen," said Cynthia, preparing to +depart. One of the young men she recognized from a photograph on Susan's +bureau. He was, for the time being, Susan's. His name, although it does +not matter much, was Morton Browne, and he would have been considerably +astonished if he had guessed how much of his history Cynthia knew. It +was Mr. Browne's habit to take Susan for a walk as often as propriety +permitted, and on such occasions he generally brought along a good- +natured classmate to take care of Jane. This, apparently, was one of the +occasions. Mr. Browne was tall and dark and generally good-looking, +while his friends were usually distinguished for their good nature. + +Mr. Browne stood between her and the door and looked at her rather fixedly. +Then he said:--"Excuse me." + +A great many friendships, and even love affairs, have been inaugurated by +just such an opening. + +"Certainly," said Cynthia, and tried to pass out. But Mr. Browne had no +intention of allowing her to do so if he could help it. + +"I hope I am not intruding," he said politely. + +"Oh, no," answered Cynthia, wondering how she could get by him. + +"Were you waiting for Miss Merrill?" + +"Oh, no," said Cynthia again. + +The other young man turned his back and became absorbed in the picture of +a lion getting ready to tear a lady to pieces. But Mr. Browne was of +that mettle which is not easily baffled in such matters. He introduced +himself, and desired to know whom he had the honor of addressing. Cynthia +could not but enlighten him. Mr. Browne was greatly astonished, +and showed it. + +"So you are the mysterious young lady who has been staying here in the +house this winter," he exclaimed, as though it were a marvellous thing. +"I have heard Miss Merrill speak of you. She admires you very much. +Is it true that you come from--Coniston?" + +"Yes," she said. + +"Let me see--where is Coniston?" inquired Mr. Browne. + +"Do you know where Brampton is?" asked Cynthia. "Coniston is near +Brampton." + +"Brampton!" exclaimed Mr. Browne, "I have a classmate who comes from +Brampton--Bob Worthington--You must know Bob, then." + +Yes, Cynthia knew Mr. Worthington. + +"His father's got a mint of money, they say. I've been told that old +Worthington was the whole show up in those parts. Is that true?" + +"Not quite," said Cynthia. + +Not quite! Mr. Morton Browne eyed her in surprise, and from that moment +she began to have decided possibilities. Just then Jane and Susan +entered arrayed for the walk, but Mr. Browne showed himself in no hurry +to depart: began to speak, indeed, in a deprecating way about the +weather, appealed to his friend, Mr. King, if it didn't look remarkably +like rain, or hail, or snow. Susan sat down, Jane sat down, Mr. Browne +and his friend prepared to sit down when Cynthia moved toward the door. + +"You're not going, Cynthia!" cried Susan, in a voice that may have had a +little too much eagerness in it. "You must stay and help us entertain +Mr. Browne." (Mr. King, apparently, was not to be entertained.) "We've +tried so hard to make her come down when people called, Mr. Browne, but +she never would." + +Cynthia was not skilled in the art of making excuses. She hesitated for +one, and was lost. So she sat down, as far from Mr. Browne as possible, +next to Jane. In a few minutes Mr. Browne was seated beside her, and how +he accomplished this manoeuvre Cynthia could not have said, so skilfully +and gradually was it done. For lack of a better subject he chose Mr. +Robert Worthington. Related, for Cynthia's delectation, several of Bob's +escapades in his freshman year: silly escapades enough, but very bold and +daring and original they sounded to Cynthia, who listened (if Mr. Browne +could have known it) with almost breathless interest, and forgot all +about poor Susan talking to Mr. King. Did Mr. Worthington still while +away his evenings stealing barber poles and being chased around Cambridge +by irate policemen? Mr. Browne laughed at the notion. O dear, no! +seniors never descended to that. Had not Miss Wetherell heard the song +wherein seniors were designated as grave and reverend? Yes, Miss +Wetherell had heard the song. She did not say where, or how. Mr. +Worthington, said his classmate, had become very serious-minded this +year. Was captain of the base-ball team and already looking toward the +study of law. + +"Study law!" exclaimed Cynthia, "I thought he would go into his father's +mills." + +"Do you know Bob very well?" asked Mr. Browne. + +She admitted that she did not. + +"He's been away from Brampton a good deal, of course," said Mr. Browne, +who seemed pleased by her admission. To do him justice, he would not +undermine a classmate, although he had other rules of conduct which might +eventually require a little straightening out. "Worthy's a first-rate +fellow, a little quick-tempered, perhaps, and inclined to go his own way. +He's got a good mind, and he's taken to using it lately. He has come +pretty near being suspended once or twice." + +Cynthia wanted to ask what "suspended" was. It sounded rather painful. +But at this instant there was the rattle of a latch key at the door, +and Mr. Merrill walked in. + +"Well, well," he said, spying Cynthia, "so you have got Cynthia to come +down and entertain the young men at last." + +"Yes," said Susan, "we have got Cynthia to come down at last." + +Susan did not go to Cynthia's room that night to chat, as usual, and Mr. +Morton Browne's photograph was mysteriously removed from the prominent +position it had occupied. If Susan had carried out a plan which she +conceived in a moment of folly of placing that photograph on Cynthia's +bureau, there would undoubtedly have been a quarrel. Cynthia's own +feelings--seeing that Mr. Browne had not dazzled her--were not--enviable. + +But she held her peace, which indeed was all she could do, and the next +time Mr. Browne called, though he took care to mention her name +particularly at the door, she would not go down to entertain him: though +Susan implored and Jane appealed, she would not go down. Mr. Browne +called several times again, with the same result. Cynthia was +inexorable--she would have none of him. Then Susan forgave her. There +was no quarrel, indeed, but there was a reconciliation, which is the best +part of a quarrel. There were tears, of Susan's shedding; there was a +character-sketch of Mr. Browne, of Susan's drawing, and that gentleman +flitted lightly out of Susan's life. + +Some ten days subsequent to this reconciliation Ellen, the parlor maid, +brought up a card to Cynthia's room. The card bore the name of Mr. +Robert Worthington. Cynthia stared at it, and bent it in her fingers, +while Ellen explained how the gentleman had begged that she might see +him. To tell the truth, Cynthia had wondered more than once why he had +not come before, and smiled when she thought of all the assurances of +undying devotion she had heard in Washington. After all, she reflected, +why should she not see him--once? He might give her news of Brampton and +Coniston. Thus willingly deceiving herself, she told Ellen that she +would go down: much to the girl's delight, for Cynthia was a favorite in +the house. + +As she entered the parlor Mr. Worthington was standing in the window. +When he turned and saw her he started to come forward in his old +impetuous way, and stopped and looked at her in surprise. She herself +did not grasp the reason for this. + +"Can it be possible," he said, "can it be possible that this is my friend +from the country?" And he took her hand with the greatest formality, +pressed it the least little bit, and released it. "How do you do, Miss +Wetherell? Do you remember me?" + +"How do you do--Bob," she answered, laughing in spite of herself at his +banter. "You haven't changed, anyway." + +"It was Mr. Worthington in Washington," said he. "Now it is 'Bob' and +'Miss Wetherell.' Rank patronage! How did you do it, Cynthia?" + +"You are like all men," said Cynthia, "you look at the clothes, and not +the woman. They are not very fine clothes; but if they were much finer, +they wouldn't change me." + +"Then it must be Miss Sadler." + +"Miss Sadler would willingly change me--if she could," said Cynthia, a +little bitterly. "How did you find out I was at Miss Sadler's?" + +"Morton Browne told me yesterday," said Bob. "I felt like punching his +head." + +"What did he tell you?" she asked with some concern. + +"He said that you were here, visiting the Merrills, among other things, +and said that you knew me." + +The "other things" Mr. Browne had said were interesting, but flippant. +He had seen Bob at a college club and declared that he had met a witch of +a country girl at the Merrills. He couldn't make her out, because she +had refused to see him every time he called again. He had also repeated +Cynthia's remark about Bob's father not being quite the biggest man in +his part of the country, and ventured the surmise that she was the +daughter of a rival mill owner. + +"Why didn't you let me know you were in Boston?" said Bob, reproachfully. + +"Why should I?" asked Cynthia, and she could not resist adding, "Didn't +you find it out when you went to Brampton--to see me?" + +"Well," said he, getting fiery red, "the fact is--I didn't go to +Brampton." + +"I'm glad you were sensible enough to take my advice, though I suppose +that didn't make any difference. But--from the way you spoke, I should +have thought nothing could have kept you away." + +"To tell you the truth," said Bob, "I'd promised to visit a fellow named +Broke in my class, who lives in New York. And I couldn't get out of it. +His sister, by the way, is in Miss Sadler's. I suppose you know her. +But if I'd thought you'd see me, I should have gone to Brampton, anyway. +You were so down on me in Washington." + +"It was very good of you to take the trouble to come to see me here. +There must be a great many girls in Boston you have to visit." + +He caught the little note of coolness in her voice. Cynthia was asking +herself whether, if Mr. Browne had not seen fit to give a good report of +her, he would have come at all. He would have come, certainly. It is to +be hoped that Bob Worthington's attitude up to this time toward Cynthia +has been sufficiently defined by his conversation and actions. There had +been nothing serious about it. But there can be no question that Mr. +Browne's openly expressed admiration had enhanced her value in his eyes. + +"There's no girl in Boston that I care a rap for," he said. + +"I'm relieved to hear it," said Cynthia, with feeling. + +"Are you really?" + +"Didn't you expect me to be, when you said it?" + +He laughed uncomfortably. + +"You've learned more than one thing since you've been in the city," he +remarked, "I suppose there are a good many fellows who come here all the +time." + +"Yes, there are," she said demurely. + +"Well," he remarked, "you've changed a lot in three months. I always +thought that, if you had a chance, there'd be no telling where you'd end +up." + +"That doesn't sound very complimentary," said Cynthia. She had, indeed, +changed. "In what terrible place do you think I'll end up?" + +"I suppose you'll marry one of these Boston men." + +"Oh," she laughed, "that wouldn't be so terrible, would it?" + +"I believe you're engaged to one of 'em now," he remarked, looking very +hard at her. + +"If you believed that, I don't think you would say it," she answered. + +"I can't make you out. You used to be so frank with me, and now you're +not at all so. Are you going to Coniston for the holidays?" + +Her face fell at the question. + +"Oh, Bob," she cried, surprising him utterly by a glimpse of the real +Cynthia, "I wish I were--I wish I were! But I don't dare to." + +"Don't dare to?" + +"If I went, I should' never come back--never. I should stay with Uncle +Jethro. He's so lonesome up there, and I'm so lonesome down here, +without him. And I promised him faithfully I'd stay a whole winter at +school in Boston." + +"Cynthia," said Bob, in a strange voice as he leaned toward her, "do you- +-do you care for him as much as all that?" + +"Care for him?" she repeated. + +"Care for--for Uncle Jethro?" + +"Of course I care for him," she cried, her eyes flashing at the thought. +"I love him better than anybody in the world. Certainly no one ever had +better reason to care for a person. My father failed when he came to +Coniston--he was not meant for business, and Uncle Jethro took care of +him all his life, and paid his debts. And he has taken care of me and +given me everything that a girl could wish. Very few people know what a +fine character Uncle Jethro has," continued Cynthia, carried away as she +was by the pent-up flood of feeling within her. "I know what he has done +for others, and I should love him for that even if he never had done +anything for me." + +Bob was silent. He was, in the first place, utterly amazed at this +outburst, revealing as it did a depth of passionate feeling in the girl +which he had never suspected, and which thrilled him. It was unlike her, +for she was usually so self-repressed; and, being unlike her, accentuated +both sides of her character the more. + +But what was he to say of the defence of Jethro Bass? Bob was not a +young man who had pondered much over the problems of life, because these +problems had hitherto never touched him. But now he began to perceive, +dimly, things that might become the elements of a tragedy, even as Mr. +Merrill had perceived them some months before. Could a union endure +between so delicate a creature as the girl before him and Jethro Bass? +Could Cynthia ever go back to him again, and live with him happily, +without seeing many things which before were hidden by reason of her +youth and innocence? + +Bob had not been nearly four years at college without learning something +of the world; and it had not needed the lecture from his father, which he +got upon leaving Washington, to inform him of Jethro's political +practices. He had argued soundly with his father on that occasion, +having the courage to ask Mr. Worthington in effect whether he did not +sanction his underlings to use the same tools as Jethro used. Mr. +Worthington was righteously angry, and declared that Jethro had +inaugurated those practices in the state, and had to be fought with his +own weapons. But Mr. Worthington had had the sense at that time not to +mention Cynthia's name. He hoped and believed that that affair was not +serious, and merely a boyish fancy--as indeed it was. + +It remains to be said, however, that the lecture had not been without its +effect upon Bob. Jethro Bass, after all, was--Jethro Bass. All his life +Bob had heard him familiarly and jokingly spoken of as the boss of the +state, and had listened to the tales, current in all the country towns, +of how Jethro had outwitted this man or that. Some of them were not +refined tales. Jethro Bass as the boss of the state--with the tolerance +with which the public in general regard politics--was one thing. Bob was +willing to call him "Uncle Jethro," admire his great strength and +shrewdness, and declare that the men he had outwitted had richly deserved +it. But Jethro Bass as the ward of Cynthia Wetherell was quite another +thing. + +It was not only that Cynthia had suddenly and inevitably become a lady. +That would not have mattered, for such as she would have borne Coniston +and the life of Coniston cheerfully. But Bob reflected, as he walked +back to his rooms in the dark through the snow-laden streets, that +Cynthia, young though she might be, possessed principles from which no +love would sway her a hair's breadth. How, indeed, was she to live with +Jethro once her eyes were opened? + +The thought made him angry, but returned to him persistently during the +days that followed,--in the lecture room, in the gymnasium, in his own +study, where he spent more time than formerly. By these tokens it will +be perceived that Bob, too, had changed a little. And the sight of +Cynthia in Mrs. Merrill's parlor had set him to thinking in a very +different manner than the sight of her in Washington had affected him. +Bob had managed to shift the subject from Jethro, not without an effort, +though he had done it in that merry, careless manner which was so +characteristic of him. He had talked of many things,--his college life, +his friends,--and laughed at her questions about his freshman escapades. +But when at length, at twilight, he had risen to go, he had taken both +her hands and looked down into her face with a very different expression +than she had seen him wear before--a much more serious expression, which +puzzled her. It was not the look of a lover, nor yet that of a man who +imagines himself in love. With either of these her instinct would have +told her how to deal. It was more the look of a friend, with much of the +masculine spirit of protection in it. + +"May I come to see you again?" he asked. + +Gently she released her hands, and she did not answer at once. She went +to the window, and stared across the sloping street at the grilled +railing before the big house opposite, thinking. Her reason told her +that he should not come, but her spirit rebelled against that reason. It +was a pleasure to see him, so she freely admitted to herself. Why should +she not have that pleasure? If the truth be told, she had argued it all +out before, when she had wondered whether he would come. Mrs. Merrill, +she thought, would not object to his coming. But--there was the question +she had meant to ask him. + +"Bob," she said, turning to him, "Bob, would your father want you to +come?" + +It was growing dark, and she could scarcely see his face. He hesitated, +but he did not attempt to evade the question. + +"No, he would not," he answered. And added, with a good deal of force +and dignity: "I am of age, and can choose my own friends. I am my own +master. If he knew you as I knew you, he would look at the matter in a +different light." + +Cynthia felt that this was not quite true. She smiled a little sadly. + +"I am afraid you don't know me very well, Bob." He was about to protest, +but she went on, bravely, "Is it because he has quarrelled with Uncle +Jethro?" + +"Yes," said Bob. She was making it terribly hard for him, sparing indeed +neither herself nor him. + +"If you come here to see me, it will cause a quarrel between you and your +father. I--I cannot do that." + +"There is nothing wrong in my seeing you," said Bob, stoutly; "if he +cares to quarrel with me for that, I cannot help it. If the people I +choose for my friends are good people, he has no right to an objection, +even though he is my father." + +Cynthia had never come so near real admiration for him as at that moment. + +"No, Bob, you must not come," she said. "I will not have you quarrel +with him on my account." + +"Then I will quarrel with him on my own account," he had answered. +"Good-by. You may expect me this day week." + +He went into the hall to put on his overcoat. Cynthia stood still on the +spot of the carpet where he had left her. He put his head in at the +door. + +"This day week," he said. + +"Bob, you must not come," she answered. But the street door closed after +him as he spoke. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"You must not come." Had Cynthia made the prohibition strong enough? +Ought she not to have said, "If you do come, I will not see you?" Her +knowledge of the motives of the men and women in the greater world was +largely confined to that which she had gathered from novels--not trashy +novels, but those by standard authors of English life. And many another +girl of nineteen has taken a novel for a guide when she has been suddenly +confronted with the first great problem outside of her experience. +Somebody has declared that there are only seven plots in the world. +There are many parallels in English literature to Cynthia's position,--so +far as she was able to define that position,--the wealthy young peer, the +parson's or physician's daughter, and the worldly, inexorable parents who +had other plans. + +Cynthia was, of course, foolish. She would not look ahead, yet there was +the mirage in the sky when she allowed herself to dream. It can +truthfully be said that she was not in love with Bob Worthington. She +felt, rather than knew, that if love came to her the feeling she had for +Jethro Bass--strong though that was--would be as nothing to it. The girl +felt the intensity of her nature, and shrank from it when her thoughts +ran that way, for it frightened her. + +"Mrs. Merrill" she said, a few days later, when she found herself alone +with that lady, "you once told me you would have no objection if a friend +came to see me here." + +"None whatever, my dear," answered Mrs. Merrill. "I have asked you to +have your friends here." + +Mrs. Merrill knew that a young man had called on Cynthia. The girls had +discussed the event excitedly, had teased Cynthia about it; they had +discovered, moreover, that the young man had not been a tiller of the +soil or a clerk in a country store. Ellen, with the enthusiasm of her +race, had painted him in glowing colors--but she had neglected to read +the name on his card. + +"Bob Worthington came to see me last week, and he wants to come again. +He lives in Brampton," Cynthia explained, "and is at Harvard College." + +Mrs. Merrill was decidedly surprised. She went on with her sewing, +however, and did not betray the fact. She knew of Dudley Worthington as +one of the richest and most important men in his state; she had heard her +husband speak of him often; but she had never meddled with politics and +railroad affairs. + +"By all means let him come, Cynthia," she replied. + +When Mr. Merrill got home that evening she spoke of the matter to him. + +"Cynthia is a strange character," she said. "Sometimes I can't +understand her--she seems so much older than our girls, Stephen. Think +of her keeping this to herself for four days!" + +Mr. Merrill laughed, but he went off to a little writing room he had and +sat for a long time looking into the glowing coals. Then he laughed +again. Mr. Merrill was a philosopher. After all, he could not forbid +Dudley Worthington's son coming to his house, nor did he wish to. + +That same evening Cynthia wrote a letter and posted it. She found it a +very difficult letter to write, and almost as difficult to drop into the +mail-box. She reflected that the holidays were close at hand, and then +he would go to Brampton and forget, even as he had forgotten before. And +she determined when Wednesday afternoon came around that she would take a +long walk in the direction of Brookline. Cynthia loved these walks, for +she sadly missed the country air,--and they had kept the color in her +cheeks and the courage in her heart that winter. She had amazed the +Merrill girls by the distances she covered, and on more than one occasion +she had trudged many miles to a spot from which there was a view of Blue +Hills. They reminded her faintly of Coniston. + +Who can speak or write with any certainty of the feminine character, or +declare what unexpected twists perversity and curiosity may give to it? +Wednesday afternoon came, and Cynthia did not go to Brookline. She put +on her coat, and took it off again. Would he dare to come in the face of +the mandate he had received? If he did come, she wouldn't see him. +Ellen had received her orders. + +At four o'clock the doorbell rang, and shortly thereafter Ellen appeared, +simpering and apologetic enough, with a card. She had taken the trouble +to read it this time. Cynthia was angry, or thought she was, and her +cheeks were very red. + +"I told you to excuse me, Ellen. Why did you let him in?" + +"Miss Cynthia, darlin'," said Ellen, "if it was made of flint I was, +wouldn't he bring the tears out of me with his wheedlin' an' coaxin'? +An' him such a fine young gintleman! And whin he took to commandin' +like, sure I couldn't say no to him at all at all. 'Take the card to +her, Ellen,' he says--didn't he know me name!--'an' if she says she won't +see me, thin I won't trouble her more.' Thim were his words, Miss." + +There he was before the fire, his feet slightly apart and his hands in +his pockets, waiting for her. She got a glimpse of him standing thus, as +she came down the stairs. It was not the attitude of a culprit. Nor did +he bear the faintest resemblance to a culprit as he came up to her in the +doorway. The chief recollection she carried away of that moment was that +his teeth were very white and even when he smiled. He had the impudence +to smile. He had the impudence to seize one of her hands in his, and to +hold aloft a sheet of paper in the other. + +"What does this mean?" said he. + +"What do you thick it means?" retorted Cynthia, with dignity. + +"A summons to stay away," said Bob, thereby more or less accurately +describing it. "What would you have thought of me if I had not come?" + +Cynthia was not prepared for any such question as this. She had meant to +ask the questions herself. But she never lacked for words to protect +herself. + +"I'll tell you what I think of you for coming, Bob, for insisting upon +seeing me as you did," she said, remembering with shame Ellen's account +of that proceeding. "It was very unkind and very thoughtless of you." + +"Unkind?" Thus she succeeded in putting him on the defensive. + +"Yes, unkind, because I know it is best for you not to come to see me, +and you know it, and yet you will not help me when I try to do what is +right. I shall be blamed for these visits," she said. The young ladies +in the novels always were. But it was a serious matter for poor Cynthia, +and her voice trembled a little. Her troubles seemed very real. + +"Who will blame you?" asked Bob, though he knew well enough. Then he +added, seeing that she did not answer: "I don't at all agree with you +that it is best for me not to see you. I know of nobody in the world it +does me more good to see than yourself. Let's sit down and talk it all +over," he said, for she still remained standing uncompromisingly by the +door. + +The suspicion of a smile came over Cynthia's face. She remembered how +Ellen had been wheedled. Her instinct told her that now was the time to +make a stand or never. + +"It wouldn't do any good, Bob," she replied, shaking her head; "we talked +it all over last week." + +"Not at all," said he, "we only touched upon a few points last week. We +ought to thrash it out. Various aspects of the matter have occurred to +me which I ought to call to your attention." + +He could not avoid this bantering tone, but she saw that he was very much +in earnest too. He realized the necessity of winning; likewise, and he +had got in and meant to stay. + +"I don't want to argue," said Cynthia. "I've thought it all out." + +"So have I," said Bob. "I haven't thought of anything else, to speak of. +And by the way," he declared, shaking the envelope, "I never got a colder +and more formal letter in my life. You must have taken it from one of +Miss Sadler's copy books." + +"I'm sorry I haven't been able to equal the warmth of your other +correspondents," said Cynthia, smiling at the mention of Miss Sadler. + +"You've got a good many degrees yet to go," he replied. + +"I have no idea of doing so," said Cynthia. + +If Cynthia had lured him there, and had carefully thought out a plan of +fanning his admiration into a flame, she could not have done better than +to stand obstinately by the door. Nothing appeals to a man like +resistance--resistance for a principle appealed to Bob, although he did +not care a fig about that particular principle. In his former dealings +with young women--and they had not been few--the son of Dudley +Worthington had encountered no resistance worth the mentioning. He +looked at the girl before him, and his blood leaped at the thought of a +conquest over her. She was often demure, but behind that demureness was +firmness: she was mistress of herself, and yet possessed a marvellous +vitality. + +"And now," said Cynthia, "don't you think you had better go?" + +Go! He laughed outright. Never! He would sit down under that fortress, +and some day he meant to scale the walls. Like John Paul Jones, he had +not yet begun to fight. But he did not sit down just yet, because +Cynthia remained standing. + +"I'm here now," he said, "what's the good of going away? I might as well +stay the rest of the afternoon." + +"You will find a photograph album on the table," said Cynthia, "with +pictures of all the Merrill family and their friends and relations." + +In spite of the threat this remark conveyed, he could not help laughing +at it. Mrs. Merrill in her sitting room heard the laugh, and felt that +she would like Bob Worthington. + +"It's a heavy album, Cynthia," he said; "perhaps you would hold up one +side of it." + +It was Cynthia's turn to laugh. She could not decide whether he were a +man or a boy. Sometimes, she had to admit, he was very much of a man. + +"Where are you going?" he cried. + +"Upstairs, of course," she answered. + +This was really alarming. But fate thrust a final weapon into his hands. + +"All right," said he, "I'll look at the album. What time does Mr. +Merrill get home?" + +"About six," answered Cynthia. "Why?" + +"When he comes," said Bob, "I shall put on my most disconsolate +expression. He'll ask me what I'm doing, and I'll tell him you went +upstairs at half-past four and haven't come down. He'll sympathize, I'll +bet anything." + +Whether Bob were really capable of doing this, Cynthia could not tell. She +believed he was. Perhaps she really did not intend to go upstairs +just then. To his intense relief she seated herself on a straight-backed +chair near the door, although she had the air of being about to get up +again at any minute. It was not a surrender, not at all--but a parley, +at least. + +"I really want to talk to you seriously, Bob," she said, and her voice +was serious. "I like you very much--I always have--and I want you to +listen seriously. All of us have friends. Some people--you, for +instance--have a great many. We have but one father." Her voice failed +a little at the word. "No friend can ever be the same to you as your +father, and no friendship can make up what his displeasure will cost you. +I do not mean to say that I shan't always be your friend, for I shall +be." + +Young men seldom arrive at maturity by gradual steps--something sets them +thinking, a week passes, and suddenly the world has a different aspect. +Bob had thought much of his father during that week, and had considered +their relationship very carefully. He had a few precious memories of his +mother before she had been laid to rest under that hideous and +pretentious monument in the Brampton hill cemetery. How unlike her was +that monument! Even as a young boy, when on occasions he had wandered +into the cemetery, he used to stand before it with a lump in his throat +and bitter resentment in his heart, and once he had shaken his fist at +it. He had grown up out of sympathy with his father, but he had never +until now began to analyze the reasons for it. His father had given him +everything except that communion of which Cynthia spoke so feelingly. +Mr. Worthington had acted according to his lights: of all the people in +the world he thought first of his son. But his thoughts and care had +been alone of what the son would be to the world: how that son would +carry on the wealth and greatness of Isaac D. Worthington. + +Bob had known this before, but it had had no such significance for him +then as now. He was by no means lacking in shrewdness, and as he had +grown older he had perceived clearly enough Mr. Worthington's reasons for +throwing him socially with the Duncans. Mr. Worthington had never been a +plain-spoken man, but he had as much as told his son that it was decreed +that he should marry the heiress of the state. There were other plans +connected with this. Mr. Worthington meant that his son should +eventually own the state itself, for he saw that the man who controlled +the highways of a state could snap his fingers at governor and council +and legislature and judiciary: could, indeed, do more--could own them +even more completely than Jethro Bass now owned them, and without effort. +The dividends would do the work: would canvass the counties and persuade +this man and that with sufficient eloquence. By such tokens it will be +seen that Isaac D. Worthington is destined to become great, though the +greatness will be akin to that possessed by those gentlemen who in past +ages had built castles across the highway between Venice and the +North Sea. All this was in store for Bob Worthington, if he could only +be brought to see it. These things would be given him, if he would but +confine his worship to the god of wealth. + +We are running ahead, however, of Bob's reflections in Mr. Merrill's +parlor in Mount Vernon Street, and the ceremony of showing him the cities +of his world from Brampton hill was yet to be gone through. Bob knew his +father's plans only in a general way, but in the past week he had come to +know his father with a fair amount of thoroughness. If Isaac D. +Worthington had but chosen a worldly wife, he might have had a more +worldly son. As it was, Bob's thoughts were a little bitter when Cynthia +spoke of his father, and he tried to think instead what his mother would +have him do. He could not, indeed, speak of Mr. Worthington's +shortcomings as he understood them, but he answered Cynthia vigorously +enough--even if his words were not as serious as she desired. + +"I tell you I am old enough to judge for myself, Cynthia," said he, "and +I intend to judge for myself. I don't pretend to be a paragon of virtue, +but I have a kind of a conscience which tells me when I am doing wrong, +if I listen to it. I have not always listened to it. It tells me I'm +doing right now, and I mean to listen to it." + +Cynthia could not but think there was very little self-denial attached to +this. Men are not given largely to self-denial. + +"It is easy enough to listen to your conscience when you think it impels +you to do that which you want to do, Bob," she answered, laughing at his +argument in spite of herself. + +"Are you wicked?" he demanded abruptly. + +"Why, no, I don't think I am," said Cynthia, taken aback. But she +corrected herself swiftly, perceiving his bent. "I should be doing wrong +to let you come here." + +He ignored the qualification. + +"Are you vain and frivolous?" + +She remembered that she had looked in the glass before she had come down +to him, and bit her lip. + +"Are you given over to idle pursuits, to leading young men from their +occupations and duties?" + +"If you've come here to recite the Blue Laws," said she, laughing again, +"I have something better to do than to listen to them." + +"Cynthia," he cried, "I'll tell you what you are. I'll draw your +character for you, and then, if you can give me one good reason why I +should not associate with you, I'll go away and never come back." + +"That's all very well," said Cynthia, "but suppose I don't admit your +qualifications for drawing my character. And I don't admit them, not for +a minute." + +"I will draw it," said he, standing up in front of her. "Oh, confound +it!" + +This exclamation, astonishing and out of place as it was, was caused by a +ring at the doorbell. The ring was followed by a whispering and giggling +in the hall, and then by the entrance of the Misses Merrill into the +parlor. Curiosity had been too strong for them. Susan was human, and +here was the opportunity for a little revenge. In justice to her, she +meant the revenge to be very slight. + +"Well, Cynthia, you should have come to the concert," she said; "it was +fine, wasn't it, Jane? Is this Mr. Worthington? How do you do. I'm +Miss Susan Merrill, and this is Miss Jane Merrill." Susan only intended +to stay a minute, but how was Bob to know that? She was tempted into +staying longer. Bob lighted the gas, and she inspected him and approved. +Her approval increased when he began to talk to her in his bantering way, +as if he had known her always. Then, when she was fully intending to go, +he rose to take his leave. + +"I'm awfully glad to have met you at last," he said to Susan, "I've heard +so much about you." His leave-taking of Jane was less effusive, and then +he turned to Cynthia and took her hand. "I'm going to Brampton on +Friday," he said, "for the holidays. I wish you were going." + +"We couldn't think of letting her go, Mr. Worthington," cried Susan, for +the thought of the hills had made Cynthia incapable of answering. "We're +only to have her for one short winter, you know." + +"Yes, I know," said Mr. Worthington, gravely. "I'll see old Ephraim, and +tell him you're well, and what a marvel of learning, you've become. +And--and I'll go to Coniston if that will please you." + +"Oh, no, Bob, you mustn't do anything of the kind," answered Cynthia, +trying to keep back the tears. "I--I write to Uncle Jethro very often. +Good-by. I hope you will enjoy your holidays." + +"I'm coming to see you the minute I get back and tell you all about +everybody," said he. + +How was she to forbid him to come before Susan and Jane! She could only +be silent. + +"Do come, Mr. Worthington," said Susan, warmly, wondering at Cynthia's +coldness and, indeed, misinterpreting it. "I am sure she will be glad to +see you. And we shall always make you welcome, at any rate." + +As soon as he was out of the door, Susan became very repentant, and +slipped her hand about Cynthia's waist. + +"We shouldn't have come in at all if we had known he would go so soon, +indeed we shouldn't, Cynthia." And seeing that Cynthia was still silent, +she added: "I wouldn't do such a mean thing, Cynthia, I really wouldn't. +Won't you believe me and forgive me?" + +Cynthia scarcely heard her at first. She was thinking of Coniston +mountain, and how the sun had just set behind it. The mountain would be +ultramarine against the white fields, and the snow on the hill pastures +to the east stained red as with wine. What would she not have given to +be going back to-morrow--yes, with Bob. She confessed--though startled +by the very boldness of the thought--that she would like to be going +there with Bob. Susan's appeal brought her back to Boston and the gas- +lit parlor. + +"Forgive you, Susan! There's nothing to forgive. I wanted him to go." + +"You wanted him to go?" repeated Susan, amazed. She may be pardoned if +she did not believe this, but a glance at Cynthia's face scarcely left a +room for doubt. "Cynthia Wetherell, you're the strangest girl I've ever +known in all my life. If I had a--a friend" (Susan had another word on +her tongue) "if I had such a friend as Mr. Worthington, I shouldn't be in +a hurry to let him leave me. Of course," she added, "I shouldn't let him +know it." + +Cynthia's heart was very heavy during the next few days, heavier by far +than her friends in Mount Vernon Street imagined. They had grown to love +her almost as one of themselves, and because of the sympathy which comes +of such love they guessed that her thoughts would be turning homeward at +Christmastide. At school she had listened, perforce, to the festival +plans of thirty girls of her own age; to accounts of the probable +presents they were to receive, the cost of some of which would support a +family in Coniston for several months; to arrangements for visits, during +which there were to be theatre-parties and dances and other gaieties. +Cynthia could not help wondering, as she listened in silence to this +talk, whether Uncle Jethro had done wisely in sending her to Miss Sadler's; +whether she would not have been far happier if she had never known about +such things. + +Then came the last day of school, which began with leave-takings and +embraces. There were not many who embraced Cynthia, though, had she +known it, this was largely her own fault. Poor Cynthia! how was she to +know it? Many more of them than she imagined would have liked to embrace +her had they believed that the embrace would be returned. Secretly they +had grown to admire this strange, dark girl, who was too proud to bend +for the good opinion of any one--even of Miss Sally Broke. Once during +the term Cynthia had held some of them--in the hollow of her hand, and +had incurred the severe displeasure of Miss Sadler by refusing to tell +what she knew of certain mischief-makers. + +Now, Miss Sadler was going about among them in the school parlor saying +good-by, sending particular remembrance to such of the fathers and +mothers as she thought worthy of that honor; kissing some, shaking, hands +with all. It was then that a dramatic incident occurred--dramatic for a +girls' school, at least. Cynthia deliberately turned her back on Miss +Sadler and looked out of the window. The chatter in the room was hushed, +and for a moment a dangerous wrath flamed in Miss Sadler's eyes. Then +she passed on with a smile, to send most particular messages to the +mother of Miss Isabel Burrage. + +Some few moments afterward Cynthia felt a touch on her arm, and turned to +find herself confronted by Miss Sally Broke. Unfortunately there is not +much room for Miss Broke in this story, although she may appear in +another one yet to be written. She was extremely good-looking, with real +golden hair and mischievous blue eyes. She was, in brief, the leader of +Miss Sadler's school. + +"Cynthia," she said, "I was rude to you when you first came here, and I'm +sorry for it. I want to beg your pardon." And she held out her hand. + +There was a moment's suspense for those watching to see if Cynthia would +take it. She did take it. + +"I'm sorry, too," said Cynthia, simply, "I couldn't see what I'd done to +offend you. Perhaps you'll explain now." + +Miss Broke blushed violently, and for an instant looked decidedly +uncomfortable. Then she burst into laughter,--merry, irresistible +laughter that carried all before it. + +"I was a snob, that's all," said she, "just a plain, low down snob. You +don't understand what that means, because you're not one." (Cynthia did +understand, ) "But I like you, and I want you to be my friend. Perhaps +when I get to know you better, you will come home with me sometime for a +visit." + +Go home with her for a visit to that house in Washington Square with the +picture gallery! + +"I want to say that I'd give my head to have been able to turn my back on +Miss Sadler as you did," continued Miss Broke; "if you ever want a +friend, remember Sally Broke." + +Some of Cynthia's trouble, at least, was mitigated by this episode; and +Miss Broke having led the way, Miss Broke's followers came shyly, one by +one, with proffers of friendship. To the good-hearted Merrill girls the +walk home that day was a kind of a triumphal march, a victory over Miss +Sadler and a vindication of their friend. Mrs. Merrill, when she heard +of it, could not find it in her heart to reprove Cynthia. Miss Sadler +had got her just deserts. But Miss Sadler was not a person who was +likely to forget such an incident. Indeed, Mrs. Merrill half expected to +receive a note before the holidays ended that Cynthia's presence was no +longer desired at the school. No such note came, however. + +If one had to be away from home on Christmas, there could surely be no +better place to spend that day than in the Merrill household. Cynthia +remembers still, when that blessed season comes around, how each member +of the family vied with the others to make her happy; how they showered +presents on her, and how they strove to include her in the laughter and +jokes at the big family dinner. Mr. Merrill's brother was there with his +wife, and Mrs. Merrill's aunt and her husband, and two broods of +cousins. It may be well to mention that the Merrill relations, like +Sally Broke, had overcome their dislike for Cynthia. + +There were eatables from Coniston on that board. A turkey sent by Jethro +for which, Mr. Merrill declared, the table would have to be strengthened; +a saddle of venison--Lem Hallowell having shot a deer on the mountain two +Sundays before; and mince-meat made by Amanda Hatch herself. Other +presents had come to Cynthia from the hills: a gorgeous copy of Mr. +Longfellow's poems from Cousin Ephraim, and a gold locket from Uncle +Jethro. This locket was the precise counterpart (had she but known it) +of a silver one bought at Mr. Judson's shop many years before, though the +inscription "Cynthy, from Uncle Jethro," was within. Into the other side +exactly fitted that daguerreotype of her mother which her father had +given her when he died. The locket had a gold chain with a clasp, and +Cynthia wore it hidden beneath her gown-too intimate a possession to be +shown. + +There was still another and very mysterious present, this being a huge +box of roses, addressed to Miss Cynthia Wetherell, which was delivered on +Christmas morning. If there had been a card, Susan Merrill would +certainly have found it. There was no card. There was much pretended +speculation on the part of the Merrill girls as to the sender, sly +reference to Cynthia's heightened color, and several attempts to pin on +her dress a bunch of the flowers, and Susan declared that one of them +would look stunning in her hair. They were put on the dining-room table +in the centre of the wreath of holly, and under the mistletoe which hung +from the chandelier. Whether Cynthia surreptitiously stole one has never +been discovered. + +So Christmas came and went: not altogether unhappily, deferring for a day +at least the knotty problems of life. Although Cynthia accepted the +present of the roses with such magnificent unconcern, and would not make +so much as a guess as to who sent them, Mr. Robert Worthington was +frequently in her thoughts. He had declared his intention of coming to +Mount Vernon Street as soon as the holidays ended, and had been cordially +invited by Susan to do so. Cynthia took the trouble to procure a Harvard +catalogue from the library, and discovered that he had many holidays yet +to spend. She determined to write another letter, which he would find in +his rooms when he returned. Just what terrible prohibitory terms she was +to employ in that letter Cynthia could not decide in a moment, nor yet in +a day, or a week. She went so far as to make several drafts, some of +which she destroyed for the fault of leniency, and others for that of +severity. What was she to say to him? She had expended her arguments to +no avail. She could wound him, indeed, and at length made up her mind +that this was the only resource left her, although she would thereby +wound herself more deeply. When she had arrived at this decision, there +remained still more than a week in which to compose the letter. + +On the morning after New Year's, when the family were assembled around +the breakfast table, Mrs. Merrill remarked that her husband was +neglecting a custom which had been his for many years. + +"Didn't the newspaper come, Stephen?" she asked. + +Mr. Merrill had read it. + +"Read it!" repeated his wife, in surprise, "you haven't been down long +enough to read a column." + +"It was full of trash," said Mr. Merrill, lightly, and began on his usual +jokes with the girls. But Mrs. Merrill was troubled. She thought his +jokes not as hearty as they were wont to be, and disquieting surmises of +business worries filled her mind. The fact that he beckoned her into his +writing room as soon as breakfast was over did not tend to allay her +suspicions. He closed and locked the door after her, and taking the +paper from a drawer in his desk bade her read a certain article in it. + +The article was an arraignment of Jethro Bass--and a terrible arraignment +indeed. Step by step it traced his career from the beginning, showing +first of all how he had debauched his own town of Coniston; how, +enlarging on the same methods, he had gradually extended his grip over +the county and finally over the state; how he had bought and sold men for +his own power and profit, deceived those who had trusted in him, +corrupted governors and legislators, congressmen and senators, and even +justices of the courts: how he had trafficked ruthlessly in the +enterprises of the people. Instance upon instance was given, and men of +high prominence from whom he had received bribes were named, not the +least important of these being the Honorable Alva Hopkins of Gosport. + +Mrs. Merrill looked up from the paper in dismay. + +"It's copied from the Newcastle Guardian," she said, for lack of +immediate power to comment. "Isn't the Guardian the chief paper in that +state?" + +"Yes, Worthington's bought it, and he instigated the article, of course. +I've been afraid of this for a long time, Carry," said Mr. Merrill, +pacing up and down. "There's a bigger fight than they've ever had coming +on up there, and this is the first gun. Worthington, with Duncan behind +him, is trying to get possession of and consolidate all the railroads in +the western part of that state. If he succeeds, it will mean the end of +Jethro's power. But he won't succeed." + +"Stephen," said his wife, "do you mean to say that Jethro Bass will try +to defeat this consolidation simply to keep his power?" + +"Well, my dear," answered Mr. Merrill, still pacing, "two wrongs don't +make a right, I admit. I've known these things a long time, and I've +thought about them a good deal. But I've had to run along with the tide, +or give place to another man who would; and--and starve." + +Mrs. Merrill's eyes slowly filled with tears. + +"Stephen," she began, "do you mean to say--?" There she stopped, utterly +unable to speak. He ceased his pacing and sat down beside her and took +her hand. + +"Yes, my dear, I mean to say I've submitted to these things. God knows +whether I've been right or wrong, but I have. I've often thought I'd be +happier if I resigned my office as president of my road and became a +clerk in a store. I don't attempt to excuse myself, Carry, but my sin +has been in holding on to my post. As long as I remain president I have +to cope with things as I find them." + +Mr. Merrill spoke thickly, for the sight of his wife's tears wrung his +heart. + +"Stephen," she said, "when we were first married and you were a district +superintendent, you used to tell me everything." + +Stephen Merrill was a man, and a good man, as men go. How was he to tell +her the degrees by which he had been led into his present situation? How +was he to explain that these degrees had been so gradual that his +conscience had had but a passing wrench here and there? Politics being +what they were, progress and protection had to be obtained in accordance +with them, and there was a duty to the holders of bonds and stocks. + +His wife had a question on her lips, a question for which she had to +summon all her courage. She chose that form for it which would hurt him +least. + +"Mr. Worthington is going to try to change these things?" + +Mr. Merrill roused himself at the words, and his eyes flashed. He became +a different man. + +"Change them!" he cried bitterly, "change them for the worse, if he can. +He will try to wrest the power from Jethro Bass. I don't defend him. I +don't defend myself. But I like Jethro Bass. I won't deny it. He's +human, and I like him, and whatever they say about him I know that he's +been a true friend to me. And I tell you as I hope for happiness here +and hereafter, that if Worthington succeeds in what he is trying to do, +if the railroads win in this fight, there will be no mercy for the people +of that state. I'm a railroad man myself, though I have no interest in +this affair. My turn may come later. Will come later, I suppose. Isaac +D. Worthington has a very little heart or soul or mercy himself; but the +corporation which he means to set up will have none at all. It will +grind the people and debase them and clog their progress a hundred times +more than Jethro Bass has done. Mark my words, Carry. I'm running ahead +of the times a little, but I can see it all as clearly as if it existed +now." + +Mrs. Merrill went about her duties that morning with a heavy heart, and +more than once she paused to wipe away a tear that would have fallen on +the linen she vas sorting. At eleven o'clock the doorbell rang, and +Ellen appeared at the entrance to the linen closet with a card in her +hand. Mrs. Merrill looked at it with a, flurry of surprise. It read:-- + + MISS LUCRETIA PENNIMAN + + The Woman's Hour + + + + +CHAPTER X + +It was certainly affinity that led Miss Lucretia to choose the rosewood +sofa of a bygone age, which was covered with horsehair. Miss Lucretia's +features seemed to be constructed on a larger and more generous principle +than those of women are nowadays. Her face was longer. With her curls +and her bonnet and her bombazine,--which she wore in all seasons,--she +was in complete harmony with the sofa. She had thrown aside the storm +cloak which had become so familiar to pedestrians in certain parts of +Boston. + +"My dear Miss Penniman," said Mrs. Merrill, "I am delighted and honored. +I scarcely hoped for such a pleasure. I have so long admired you and +your work, and I have heard Cynthia speak of you so kindly." + +"It is very good of you to say so, Mrs. Merrill" answered Miss Lucretia, +in her full, deep voice. It was by no means an unpleasant voice. She +settled herself, though she sat quite upright, in the geometrical centre +of the horsehair sofa, and cleared her throat. "To be quite honest with +you, Mrs. Merrill," she continued, "I came upon particular errand, though +I believe it would not be a perversion of the truth if I were to add that +I have had for a month past every intention of paying you a friendly +call." + +Good Mrs. Merrill's breath was a little taken away by this extremely +scrupulous speech. She also began to feel a misgiving about the cause +of the visit, but she managed to say something polite in reply. + +"I have come about Cynthia," announced Miss Lucretia, without further +preliminaries. + +"About Cynthia?" faltered Mrs. Merrill. + +Miss Lucretia opened a reticule at her waist and drew forth a newspaper +clipping, which she unfolded and handed to Mrs. Merrill. + +"Have you seen this?" she demanded. + +Mrs. Merrill took it, although she guessed very well what it was, glanced +at it with a shudder, and handed it back. + +"Yes, I have read it," she said. + +"I have come to ask you, Mrs. Merrill" said Miss Lucretia, "if it is +true." + +Here was a question, indeed, for the poor lady to answer! But Mrs. +Merrill was no coward. + +"It is partly true, I believe." + +"Partly?" said Miss Lucretia, sharply. + +"Yes, partly," said Mrs. Merrill, rousing herself for the trial; "I have +never yet seen a newspaper article which was wholly true." + +"That is because newspapers are not edited by women," observed Miss +Lucretia. "What I wish you to tell me, Mrs. Merrill, is this: how much +of that article is true, and how much of it is false?" + +"Really, Miss Penniman," replied Mrs. Merrill, with spirit, "I don't see +why you should expect me to know." + +"A woman should take an intelligent interest in her husband's affairs, +Mrs. Merrill. I have long advocated it as an entering wedge." + +"An entering wedge!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill, who had never read a page of +the Woman's Hour. + +"Yes. Your husband is the president of a railroad, I believe, which is +largely in that state. I should like to ask him whether these statements +are true in the main. Whether this Jethro Bass is the kind of man they +declare him to be." + +Mrs. Merrill was in a worse quandary than ever. Her own spirits were +none too good, and Miss Lucretia's eye, in its search for truth, seemed +to pierce into her very soul. There was no evading that eye. But Mrs. +Merrill did what few people would have had the courage or good sense to +do. + +"That is a political article, Miss Penniman," she said, "inspired by a +bitter enemy of Jethro Bass, Mr, Worthington, who has bought the +newspaper from which it was copied. For that reason, I was right in +saying that it is partly true. You nor I, Miss Penniman, must not be the +judges of any man or woman, for we know nothing of their problems or +temptations. God will judge them. We can only say that they have acted +rightly or wrongly according to the light that is in us. You will find +it difficult to get a judgment of Jethro Bass that is not a partisan +judgment, and yet I believe that that article is in the main a history of +the life of Jethro Bass. A partisan history, but still a history. He +has unquestionably committed many of the acts of which he is accused." + +Here was talk to make the author of the "Hymn to Coniston" sit up, if she +hadn't been sitting up already. + +"And don't you condemn him for those acts?" she gasped. + +"Ah," said Mrs. Merrill, thinking of her own husband. Yesterday she +would certainly have condemned. Jethro Bass. But now! "I do not condemn +anybody, Miss Penniman." + +Miss Lucretia thought this extraordinary, to say the least. + +"I will put the question in another way, Mrs. Merrill," said she. "Do +you think this Jethro Bass a proper guardian for Cynthia Wetherell?" + +To her amazement Mrs. Merrill did not give her an instantaneous answer to +this question. Mrs. Merrill was thinking of Jethro's love for the girl, +manifold evidences of which she had seen, and her heart was filled with a +melting pity. It was such a love, Mrs. Merrill knew, as is not given to +many here below. And there was Cynthia's love for him. Mrs. Merrill had +suffered that morning thinking of this tragedy also. + +"I do not think he is a proper guardian for her, Miss Penniman." + +It was then that the tears came to Mrs. Merrill's eyes for there is a +limit to all human endurance. The sight of these caused a remarkable +change in Miss Lucretia, and she leaned forward and seized Mrs. Merrill's +arm. + +"My dear," she cried, "my dear, what are we to do? Cynthia can't go back +to that man. She loves him, I know, she loves him as few girls are +capable of loving. But when she, finds out what he is! When she finds +out how he got the money to support her father!" Miss Lucretia fumbled +in her reticule and drew forth a handkerchief and brushed her own eyes-- +eyes which a moment ago were so piercing. "I have seen many young +women," she continued; "but I have known very few who were made of as +fine a fibre and who have such principles as Cynthia Wetherell." + +"That is very true," assented Mrs. Merrill too much cast down to be +amazed by this revelation of Miss Lucretia's weakness. + +"But what are we to do?" insisted that lady; "who is to tell her what he +is? How is it to be kept from her, indeed?" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Merrill, "there will be more, articles. Mr. Merrill +says so. It seems there is to be a great political struggle in that +state." + +"Precisely," said Miss Lucretia, sadly. "And whoever tells the girl will +forfeit her friendship. I--I am very fond of her," and here she applied +again to the reticule. + +"Whom would she believe?" asked Mrs. Merrill, whose estimation of Miss +Lucretia was increasing by leaps and bounds. + +"Precisely," agreed Miss Lucretia. "But she must hear about it +sometime." + +"Wouldn't it be better to let her hear?" suggested Mrs. Merrill; "we +cannot very well soften that shock: I talked the matter over a little +with Mr. Merrill, and he thinks that we must take time over it, Miss +Penniman. Whatever we do, we must not act hastily." + +"Well," said Miss Lucretia, "as I said, I am very fond of the girl, and I +am willing to do my duty, whatever it may be. And I also wished to say, +Mrs. Merrill, that I have thought about another matter very carefully. I +am willing to provide for the girl. I am getting too old to live alone. +I am getting too old, indeed, to do my work properly, as I used to do it. +I should like to have her to live with me." + +"She has become as one of my own daughters," said Mrs. Merrill. Yet she +knew that this offer of Miss Lucretia's was not one to be lightly set +aside, and that it might eventually be the best solution of the problem. +After some further earnest discussion it was agreed between them that the +matter was, if possible, to be kept from Cynthia for the present, and +when Miss Lucretia departed Mrs. Merrill promised her an early return of +her call. + +Mrs. Merrill had another talk with her husband, which lasted far into the +night. This talk was about Cynthia alone, and the sorrow which +threatened her. These good people knew that it would be no light thing +to break the faith of such as she, and they made her troubles their own. + +Cynthia little guessed as she exchanged raillery with Mr. Merrill the +next morning that he had risen fifteen minutes earlier than usual to +search his newspaper through. He would read no more at breakfast, so he +declared in answer to his daughters' comments; it was a bad habit which +did not agree with his digestion. It was something new for Mr. Merrill +to have trouble with his digestion. + +There was another and scarcely less serious phase of the situation which +Mr. and Mrs. Merrill had yet to discuss between them--a phase of which +Miss Lucretia Penniman knew nothing. + +The day before Miss Sadler's school was to reopen nearly a week before +the Harvard term was to commence--a raging, wet snowstorm came charging +in from the Atlantic. Snow had no terrors for a Coniston person, and +Cynthia had been for her walk. Returning about five o'clock, she was +surprised to have the door opened for her by Susan herself. + +"What a picture you are in those furs!" she cried, with an intention +which for the moment was lost upon Cynthia. "I thought you would never +come. You must have walked to Dedham this time. Who do you think is +here? Mr. Worthington." + +"Mr. Worthington!" + +"I have been trying to entertain him, but I am afraid I have been a very +poor substitute. However, I have persuaded him to stay for supper." + +"It needed but little persuasion," said Bob, appearing in the doorway. +All the snowstorms of the wide Atlantic could not have brought such color +to her cheeks. Cynthia, for all her confusion at the meeting, had not +lost her faculty of observation. He seemed to have changed again, even +during the brief time he had been absent. His tone was grave. + +"He needs to be cheered up, Cynthia," Susan went on, as though reading +her thoughts. "I have done my best, without success. He won't confess +to me that he has come back to make up some of his courses. I don't mind +owning that I've got to finish a theme to be handed in tomorrow." + +With these words Susan departed, and left them standing in the hall +together. Bob took hold of Cynthia's jacket and helped her off with it. +He could read neither pleasure nor displeasure in her face, though he +searched it anxiously enough. It was she who led the way into the parlor +and seated herself, as before, on one of the uncompromising, straight- +backed chairs. Whatever inward tremors the surprise of this visit had +given her, she looked at him clearly and steadily, completely mistress +of herself, as ever. + +"I thought your holidays did not end until next week," she said. + +"They do not." + +"Then why are you here?" + +"Because I could not stay away, Cynthia," he answered. It was not the +manner in which he would have said it a month ago. There was a note of +intense earnestness in his voice--now, and to it she could make no light +reply. Confronted again with an unexpected situation, she could not +decide at once upon a line of action. + +"When did you leave Brampton?" she asked, to gain time. But with the +words her thoughts flew to the hill country. + +"This morning," he said, "on the early train. They have three feet of +snow up there." He, too, seemed glad of a respite from something. +"They're having a great fuss in Brampton about a new teacher for the +village school. Miss Goddard has got married. Did you know Miss +Goddard, the lanky one with the glasses?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia, beginning to be amused at the turn the conversation +was taking. + +"Well, they can't find anybody smart enough to replace Miss Goddard. Old +Ezra Graves, who's on the prudential committee, told Ephraim they ought +to get you. I was in the post-office when they were talking about it. +Just see what a reputation for learning you have in Brampton!" + +Cynthia was plainly pleased by the compliment. + +"How is Cousin Eph?" she asked. + +"Happy as a lark," said Bob, "the greatest living authority in New +England on the Civil War. He's made the post-office the most popular +social club I ever saw. If anybody's missing in Brampton, you can nearly +always find them in the post-office. But I smiled at the notion of your +being a school ma'am." + +"I don't see anything so funny about it," replied Cynthia, smiling too. +"Why shouldn't I be? I should like it." + +"You were made for something different," he answered quietly. + +It was a subject she did not choose to discuss with him, and dropped her +lashes before the plainly spoken admiration in his eyes. So a silence +fell between them, broken only by the ticking of the agate clock on the +mantel and the music of sleigh-bells in a distant street. Presently the +sleigh-bells died away, and it seemed to Cynthia that the sound of her +own heartbeats must be louder than the ticking of the clock. Her tact +had suddenly deserted her; without reason, and she did not dare to glance +again at Bob as he sat under the lamp. That minute--for it was a full +minute--was charged with a presage which she could not grasp. Cynthia's +instincts were very keen. She understood, of course, that he had cut +short his holiday to come to see her, and she might have dealt with him +had that been all. But--through that sixth sense with which some women +are endowed--she knew that something troubled him. He, too, had never +yet been at a loss for words. + +The silence forced him to speak first, and he tried to restore the light +tone to the conversation. + +"Cousin Ephraim gave me a piece of news," he said. "Ezra Graves got it, +too. He told us you were down in Boston at a fashionable school. Cousin +Ephraim knows a thing or two. He says he always callated you were cut +out for a fine lady." + +"Bob," said Cynthia, nerving herself for the ordeal, "did you tell Cousin +Ephraim you had seen me?" + +"I told him and Ezra that I had been a constant and welcome visitor at +this house." + +"Did, you tell your father that you had seen me?" + +This was too serious a question to avoid. + +"No, I did not. There was no reason why I should have." + +"There was every reason," said Cynthia, "and you know it. Did you tell +him why you came to Boston to-day?" + +"No." + +"Why does he think you came?" + +"He doesn't think anything about it," said Bob. "He went off to Chicago +yesterday to attend a meeting of the board of directors of a western +railroad." + +"And so," she said reproachfully, "you slipped off as soon as his back +was turned. I would not have believed that of you, Bob. Do you think +that was fair to him or me?" + +Bob Worthington sprang to his feet and stood over her. She had spoken to +a boy, but she had aroused a man, and she felt an amazing thrill at the +result. The muscles in his face tightened, and deepened the lines about +his mouth, and a fire was lighted about his eyes. + +"Cynthia," he said slowly, "even you shall not speak to me like that. If +I had believed it were right, if I had believed that it would have done +any good to you or me, I should have told my father the moment I got to +Brampton. In affairs of this kind--in a matter of so much importance in +my life," he continued, choosing his words carefully, "I am likely to +know whether I am doing right or wrong. If my mother were alive, I am +sure that she would approve of this--this friendship." + +Having got so far, he paused. Cynthia felt that she was trembling, as +though the force and feeling that was in him had charged her also. + +"I did not intend to come so soon," he went on, "but--I had a reason for +coming. I knew that you did not want me." + +"You know that that is not true, Bob," she faltered. His next words +brought her to her feet. + +"Cynthia," he said, in a voice shaken by the intensity of his passion, +"I came because I love you better than all the world--because I always +will love you so. I came to protect you, and care for you whatever +happens. I did not mean to tell you so, now. But it cannot matter, +Cynthia!" + +He seized her, roughly indeed, in his arms, but his very roughness was a +proof of the intensity of his love. For an instant she lay palpitating +against him, and as long as he lives he will remember the first exquisite +touch of her firm but supple figure and the marvellous communion of her +lips. A current from the great store that was in her, pent up and all +unknown, ran through him, and then she had struggled out of his arms and +fled, leaving him standing alone in the parlor. + +It is true that such things happen, and no man or woman may foretell the +day or the hour thereof. Cynthia fled up the stairs, miraculously +arriving unnoticed at her own room, and locked the door and flung herself +on the bed. + +Tears came--tears of shame, of joy, of sorrow, of rejoicing, of regret; +tears that burned, and yet relieved her, tears that pained while they +comforted. Had she sinned beyond the pardon of heaven, or had she +committed a supreme act of right? One moment she gloried in it, and the +next upbraided herself bitterly. Her heart beat with tumult, and again +seemed to stop. Such, though the words but faintly describe them, were +her feelings, for thoughts were still to emerge out of chaos. Love comes +like a flame to few women, but so it came to Cynthia Wetherell, and +burned out for a while all reason. + +Only for a while. Generations which had practised self-restraint were +strong in her--generations accustomed, too, to thinking out, so far as in +them lay, the logical consequences of their acts; generations ashamed of +these very instants when nature has chosen to take command. After a time +had passed, during which the world might have shuffled from its course, +Cynthia sat up in the darkness. How was she ever to face the light +again? Reason had returned. + +So she sat for another space, and thought of what she had done--thought +with a surprising calmness now which astonished her. Then she thought +of what she would do, for there was an ordeal still to be gone through. +Although she shrank from it, she no longer lacked the courage to endure +it. Certain facts began to stand out clearly from the confusion. The +least important and most immediate of these was that she would have to +face him, and incidentally face the world in the shape of the Merrill +family, at supper. She rose mechanically and lighted the gas and bathed +her face and changed her gown. Then she heard Susan's voice at the door. + +"Cynthia, what in the world are you doing?" + +Cynthia opened the door and the sisters entered. Was it possible that +they did not read her terrible secret in her face? Apparently not. Susan +was busy commenting on the qualities and peculiarities of Mr. Robert +Worthington, and showering upon Cynthia a hundred questions which she +answered she knew not how; but neither Susan nor Jane, wonderful as it +may seem, betrayed any suspicion. Did he send the flowers? Cynthia had +not asked him. Did he want to know whether she read the newspapers? He +had asked Susan that, before Cynthia came. Susan was ready to repeat the +whole of her conversation with him. Why did he seem so particular about +newspapers? Had he notions that girls ought not to read them? + +The significance of Bob's remarks about newspapers was lost upon Cynthia +then. Not till afterward did she think of them, or connect them with his +unexpected visit. Then the supper bell rang, and they went downstairs. + +The reader will be spared Mr. Worthington's feelings after Cynthia left +him, although they were intense enough, and absorbing and far-reaching +enough. He sat down on a chair and buried his head in his hands. His +impulse had been to leave the house and return again on the morrow, but +he remembered that he had been asked to stay for supper, and that such a +proceeding would cause comment. At length he got up and stood before the +fire, his thoughts still above the clouds, and it was thus that Mr. +Merrill found him when he entered. + +"Good evening," said that gentleman, genially, not knowing in the least +who Bob was, but prepossessed in his favor by the way he came forward and +shook his hand and looked him clearly in the eye. + +"I'm Robert Worthington, Mr. Merrill" said he. + +"Eh!" Mr. Merrill gasped, "eh! Oh, certainly, how do you do, Mr. +Worthington?" Mr. Merrill would have been polite to a tax collector or a +sheriff. He separated the office from the man, which ought not always to +be done. "I'm glad to see you, Mr. Worthington. Well, well, bad storm, +isn't it? I had an idea the college didn't open until next week." + +"Mr. Worthington's going to stay for supper, Papa," said Susan, entering. + +"Good!" cried Mr. Merrill. "Capital! You won't miss the old folks after +supper, will you, girls? Your mother wants me to go to a whist party." + +"It can't be helped, Carry," said Mr. Merrill to his wife, as they walked +up the hill to a neighbor's that evening. + +"He's in love with Cynthia," said Mrs. Merrill, somewhat sadly; "it's as +plain as the nose on your face, Stephen." + +"That isn't very plain. Suppose he is! You can dam a mountain stream, +but you can't prevent it reaching the sea, as we used to say when I was a +boy in Edmundton. I like Bob," said Mr. Merrill, with his usual weakness +for Christian names, "and he isn't any more like Dudley Worthington than +I am. If you were to ask me, I'd say he couldn't do a better thing than +marry Cynthia." + +"Stephen!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill. But in her heart she thought so, too. +"What will Mr. Worthington say when he hears the young man has been +coming to our house to see her?" + +Mr. Merrill had been thinking of that very thing, but with more amusement +than concern. + +To return to Mr. Merrill's house, the three girls and the one young man +were seated around the fire, and their talk, Merrill as it had begun, was +becoming minute by minute more stilted. This was largely the fault of +Susan, who would not be happy until she had taken Jane upstairs and left +Mr. Worthington and Cynthia together. This matter had been arranged +between the sisters before supper. Susan found her opening at last, and +upbraided Jane for her unfinished theme; Jane, having learned her lesson +well, accused Susan. But Cynthia, who saw through the ruse, declared +that both themes were finished. Susan, naturally indignant at such +ingratitude, denied this. The manoeuvre, in short, was executed very +clumsily and very obviously, but executed nevertheless--the sisters +marching out of the room under a fire of protests. The reader, too, will +no doubt think it a very obvious manoeuvre, but some things are managed +badly in life as well as in books. + +Cynthia and Bob were left alone: left, moreover, in mortal terror of each +other. It is comparatively easy to open the door of a room and rush into +a lady's arms if the lady be willing and alone. But to be abandoned, as +Susan had abandoned them, and with such obvious intent, creates quite a +different atmosphere. Bob had dared to hope for such an opportunity: had +made up his mind during supper, while striving to be agreeable, just what +he would do if the opportunity came. Instead, all he could do was to sit +foolishly in his chair and look at the coals, not so much as venturing to +turn his head until the sound of footsteps had died away on the upper +floors. It was Cynthia who broke the silence and took command--a very +different Cynthia from the girl who had thrown herself on the bed not +three hours before. She did not look at him, but stared with +determination into the fire. + +"Bob, you must go," she said. + +"Go!" he cried. Her voice loosed the fetters of his passion, and he +dared to seize the band that lay on the arm of her chair. She did not +resist this. + +"Yes, you must go. You should not have stayed for supper." + +"Cynthia," he said, "how can I leave you? I will not leave you." + +"But you can and must," she replied. + +"Why?" he asked, looking at her in dismay. + +"You know the reason," she answered. + +"Know it?" he cried. "I know why I should stay. I know that I love you +with my whole heart and soul. I know that I love you as few men have +ever loved--and that you are the one woman among millions who can inspire +such a love." + +"No, Bob, no," she said, striving hard to keep her head, withdrawing her +hand that it might not betray the treason of her lips. Aware, strange as +it may seem, of the absurdity of the source of what she was to say, for a +trace of a smile was about her mouth as she gazed at the coals. "You +will get over this. You are not yet out of college, and many such +fancies happen there." + +For the moment he was incapable of speaking, incapable of finding an +answer sufficiently emphatic. How was he to tell her of the rocks upon +which his love was built? + +How was he to declare that the very perils which threatened her had made +a man of him, with all of a man's yearning to share these perils and +shield her from them? How was he to speak at all of those perils? He +did not declaim, yet when he spoke, an enduring sincerity which she could +not deny was in his voice. + +"You know in your heart that what you say is not true, Cynthia. Whatever +happens, I shall always love you." + +Whatever happens: She shuddered at the words, reminding her as they did +of all her vague misgivings and fears. + +"Whatever happens!" she found herself repeating them involuntarily. + +"Yes, whatever happens I will love you truly and faithfully. I will +never desert you, never deny you, as long as I live. And you love me, +Cynthia," he cried, "you love me, I know it." + +"No, no," she answered, her breath coming fast. He was on his feet now, +dangerously near her, and she rose swiftly to avoid him. + +She turned her head, that he might not read the denial in her eyes; and +yet had to look at him again, for he was coming toward her quickly. "Don't +touch me," she said, "don't touch me." + +He stopped, and looked at her so pitifully that she could scarce keep +back her tears. + +"You do love me," he repeated. + +So they stood for a moment, while Cynthia made a supreme effort to speak +calmly. + +"Listen, Bob," she said at last, "if you ever wish to see me again, you +must do as I say. You must write to your father, and tell him what you +have done and--and what you wish to do. You may come to me and tell me +his answer, but you must not come to me before." She would have said +more, but her strength was almost gone. Yes, and more would have implied +a promise or a concession. She would not bind herself even by a hint. +But of this she was sure: that she would not be the means of wrecking his +opportunities. "And now--you must go." + +He stayed where he was, though his blood leaped within him, his +admiration and respect for the girl outran his passion. Robert +Worthington was a gentleman. + +"I will do as you say, Cynthia," he answered, "but I am doing it for you. +Whatever my father's reply may be will not change my love or my +intentions. For I am determined that you shall be my wife." + +With these words, and one long, lingering look, he turned and left +her. He had lacked the courage to speak of his father's bitterness and +animosity. Who will blame him? Cynthia thought none the less of him +for not telling her. There was, indeed, no need now to describe Dudley +Worthington's feelings. + +When the door had closed she stoke to the window, and listened to his +footfalls in the snow until she heard them no more. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS + +Fond of her, although she was no more than an episode in his life +Had exhausted the resources of the little school +That which is the worst cruelty of all--the cruelty of selfishness +The home is the very foundation-rock of the nation +The old soldier found dependence hard to bear +We know nothing of their problems or temptations + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Coniston, V3 +by Winston Churchill + + + + + + +CONISTON + +BOOK IV + + +CHAPTER XI + +The next morning Cynthia's heart was heavy as she greeted her new friends +at Miss Sadler's school. Life had made a woman of her long ago, while +these girls had yet been in short dresses, and now an experience had come +to her which few, if any, of these could ever know. It was of no use for +her to deny to herself that she loved Bob Worthington--loved him with the +full intensity of the strong nature that was hers. To how many of these +girls would come such a love? and how many would be called upon to make +such a renunciation as hers had been? No wonder she felt out of place +among them, and once more the longing to fly away to Coniston almost +overcame her. Jethro would forgive her, she knew, and stretch out his +arms to receive her, and understand that some trouble had driven her to +him. + +She was aroused by some one calling her name--some one whose voice +sounded strangely familiar. Cynthia was perhaps the only person in the +school that day who did not know that Miss Janet Duncan had entered it. +Miss Sadler certainly knew it, and asked Miss Duncan very particularly +about her father and mother and even her brother. Miss Sadler knew, even +before Janet's unexpected arrival, that Mr. and Mrs. Duncan had come to +Boston after Christmas, and had taken a large house in the Back Bay in +order to be near their son at Harvard. Mrs. Duncan was, in fact, a +Bostonian, and more at home there than at any other place. + +Miss Sadler observed with a great deal of astonishment the warm embrace +that Janet bestowed on Cynthia. The occurrence started in Miss Sadler a +train of thought, as a result of which she left the drawing-room where +these reunions were held, and went into her own private study to write a +note. This she addressed to Mrs. Alexander Duncan, at a certain number +on Beacon Street, and sent it out to be posted immediately. In the +meantime, Janet Duncan had seated herself on the sofa beside Cynthia, not +having for an instant ceased to talk to her. Of what use to write a +romance, when they unfolded themselves so beautifully in real life! Here +was the country girl she had seen in Washington already in a fine way to +become the princess, and in four months! Janet would not have thought it +possible for any one to change so much in such a time. Cynthia listened, +and wondered what language Miss Duncan would use if she knew how great +and how complete that change had been. Romances, Cynthia thought sadly, +were one thing to theorize about and quite another thing to endure--and +smiled at the thought. But Miss Duncan had no use for a heroine without +a heartache. + +It is not improbable that Miss Janet Duncan may appear with Miss Sally +Broke in another volume. The style of her conversation is known, and +there is no room to reproduce it here. She, too, had a heart, but she +was a young woman given to infatuations, as Cynthia rightly guessed. +Cynthia must spend many afternoons at her house--lunch with her, drive +with her. For one omission Cynthia was thankful: she did not mention Bob +Worthington's name. There was the romance under Miss Duncan's nose, and +she did not see it. It is frequently so with romancers. + +Cynthia's impassiveness, her complete poise, had fascinated Miss Duncan +with the others. Had there been nothing beneath that exterior, Janet +would never have guessed it, and she would have been quite as happy. +Cynthia saw very clearly that Mr. Worthington or no other man or woman +could force Bob to marry Janet. + +The next morning, in such intervals as her studies permitted, Janet +continued her attentions to Cynthia. That same morning she had brought a +note from her father to Miss Sadler, of the contents of which Janet knew +nothing. Miss Sadler retired into her study to read it, and two +newspaper clippings fell out of it under the paper-cutter. This was the +note:-- + + "My DEAR MISS SADLER: + + Mrs. Duncan has referred your note to me, and I enclose two + clippings which speak for themselves. Miss Wetherell, I believe, + stands in the relation of ward to the person to whom they refer, and + her father was a sort of political assistant to this person. + Although, as you say, we are from that part of the country" (Miss + Sadler bad spoken of the Duncans as the people of importance there), + "it was by the merest accident that Miss Wetherell's connection with + this Jethro Bass was brought to my notice. + + Sincerely yours, + + "ALEXANDER DUNCAN." + +It is pleasant to know that there were people in the world who could snub +Miss Sadler; and there could be no doubt, from the manner in which she +laid the letter down and took up the clippings, that Miss Sadler felt +snubbed: equally, there could be no doubt that the revenge would fall on +other shoulders than Mr. Duncan's. And when Miss Sadler proceeded to +read the clippings, her hair would have stood on end with horror had it +not been so efficiently plastered down. Miss Sadler seized her pen, and +began a letter to Mrs. Merrill. Miss Sadler's knowledge of the +proprieties--together with other qualifications--had made her school what +it was. No Cynthia Wetherells had ever before entered its sacred +portals, or should again. + +The first of these clippings was the article containing the arraignment +of Jethro Bass which Mr. Merrill had shown to his wife, and which had +been the excuse for Miss Penniman's call. The second was one which Mr. +Duncan had clipped from the Newcastle Guardian of the day before, and +gave, from Mr. Worthington's side, a very graphic account of the conflict +which was to tear the state asunder. The railroads were tired of paying +toll to the chief of a band of thieves and cutthroats, to a man who had +long throttled the state which had nourished him, to--in short,--to +Jethro Bass. Miss Sadler was not much interested in the figures and +metaphors of political compositions. Right had found a champion--the +article continued--in Mr. Isaac D. Worthington of Brampton, president of +the Truro Road and owner of large holdings elsewhere. Mr. Worthington, +backed by other respectable property interests, would fight this monster +of iniquity to the death, and release the state from his thraldom. +Jethro Bass, the article alleged, was already about his abominable work-- +had long been so--as in mockery of that very vigilance which is said to +be the price of liberty. His agents were busy in every town of the +state, seeing to it that the slaves of Jethro Bass should be sent to the +next legislature. + +And what was this system which he had built up among these rural +communities? It might aptly be called the System of Mortgages. The +mortgage--dread name for a dreadful thing--was the chief weapon of the +monster. Even as Jethro Bass held the mortgages of Coniston and Tarleton +and round about, so his lieutenants held mortgages in every town and +hamlet of the state, What was a poor farmer to do--? His choice was not +between right and wrong, but between a roof over the heads of his wife +and children and no roof. He must vote for the candidate of Jethro Bass +end corruption or become a homeless wanderer. How the gentleman and his +other respectable backers were to fight the system the article did not +say. Were they to buy up all the mortgages? As a matter of fact, they +intended to buy up enough of these to count, but to mention this would be +to betray the methods of Mr. Worthington's reform. The first bitter +frontier fighting between the advance cohorts of the new giant and the +old--the struggle for the caucuses and the polls--had begun. Miss Sadler +cared but little and understood less of all this matter. She lingered +over the sentences which described Jethro Bass as a monster of iniquity, +as a pariah with whom decent men would have no intercourse, and in the +heat of her passion that one who had touched him had gained admittance to +the most exclusive school for young ladies in the country she wrote a +letter. + +Miss Sadler wrote the letter, and three hours later tore it up and wrote +another and more diplomatic one. Mrs. Merrill, though not by any means +of the same importance as Mrs. Duncan, was not a person to be wantonly +offended, and might--knowing nothing about the monster--in the goodness +of her heart have taken the girl into her house. Had it been otherwise, +surely Mrs. Merrill would not have had the effrontery! She would give +Mrs. Merrill a chance. The bell of release from studies was ringing as +she finished this second letter, and Miss Sadler in her haste forgot to +enclose the clippings. She ran out in time to intercept Susan Merrill at +the door, and to press into her hands the clippings and the note, with a +request to take both to her mother. + +Although the Duncans dined in the evening, the Merrills had dinner at +half-past one in the afternoon, when the girls returned from school. +Mr. Merrill usually came home, but he had gone off somewhere for this +particular day, and Mrs. Merrill had a sewing circle. The girls sat +down to dinner alone. When they got up from the table, Susan suddenly +remembered the note which she had left in her coat pocket. She drew out +the clippings with it. + +"I wonder what Miss Sadler is sending mamma clippings for," she said. +"Why, Cynthia, they're about your uncle. Look!" + +And she handed over the article headed "Jethro Bass." Jane, who had +quicker intuitions than her sister, would have snatched it from Cynthia's +hand, and it was a long time before Susan forgave herself for her folly. +Thus Miss Sadler had her revenge. + +It is often mercifully ordained that the mightiest blows of misfortune +are tempered for us. During the winter evenings in Coniston, Cynthia had +read little newspaper attacks on Jethro, and scorned them as the cowardly +devices of enemies. They had been, indeed, but guarded and covert +allusions--grimaces from a safe distance. Cynthia's first sensation as +she read was anger--anger so intense as to send all the blood in her body +rushing to her head. But what was this? "Right had found a champion at +last" in--in Isaac D. Worthington! That was the first blow, and none but +Cynthia knew the weight of it. It sank but slowly into her +consciousness, and slowly the blood left her face, slowly but surely: +left it at length as white as the lace curtain of the window which she +clutched in her distress. Words which somebody had spoken were ringing +in her ears. Whatever happens! "Whatever happens I will never desert +you, never deny you, as long as I live." This, then, was what he had +meant by newspapers, and why he had come to her! + +The sisters, watching her, cried out in dismay. There was no need to +tell them that they were looking on at a tragedy, and all the love and +sympathy in their hearts went out to her. + +"Cynthia! Cynthia! What is it?" cried Susan, who, thinking she would +faint, seized her in her arms. "What have I done?" + +Cynthia did not faint, being made of sterner substance. Gently, but with +that inexorable instinct of her kind which compels them to look for +reliance within themselves even in the direst of extremities, Cynthia +released herself from Susan's embrace and put a hand to her forehead. + +"Will you leave me here a little while--alone?" she said. + +It was Jane now who drew Susan out and shut the door of the parlor after +them. In utter misery they waited on the stairs while Cynthia fought out +her battle for herself. + +When they were gone she sank down into the big chair under the reading +lamp--the very chair in which he had sat only two nights before. She saw +now with a terrible clearness the thing which for so long had been but a +vague premonition of disaster, and for a while she forgot the clippings. +And when after a space the touch of them in her hand brought them back to +her remembrance, she lacked the courage to read them through. But not +for long. Suddenly her fear of them gave place to a consuming hatred of +the man who had inspired these articles: of Isaac D. Worthington, for she +knew that he must have inspired them. And then she began again to read +them. + +Truth, though it come perverted from the mouth of an enemy, has in itself +a note to which the soul responds, let the mind deny as vehemently as it +will. Cynthia read, and as she read her body was shaken with sobs, +though the tears came not. Could it be true? Could the least particle +of the least of these fearful insinuations be true? Oh, the treason of +those whispers in a voice that was surely not her own, and yet which she +could not hush! Was it possible that such things could be printed about +one whom she had admired and respected above all men--nay, whom she had +so passionately adored from childhood? A monster of iniquity, a pariah! +The cruel, bitter calumny of those names! Cynthia thought of his +goodness and loving kindness and his charity to her and to many others. +His charity! The dreaded voice repeated that word, and sent a thought +that struck terror into her heart: Whence had come the substance of that +charity? Then came another word--mortgage. There it was on the paper, +and at sight of it there leaped out of her memory a golden-green poplar +shimmering against the sky and the distant blue billows of mountains in +the west. She heard the high-pitched voice of a woman speaking the word, +and even then it had had a hateful sound, and she heard herself asking, +"Uncle Jethro, what is a mortgage?" He had struck his horse with the +whip. + +Loyal though the girl was, the whispers would not hush, nor the doubts +cease to assail her. What if ever so small a portion of this were true? +Could the whole of this hideous structure, tier resting upon tier, have +been reared without something of a foundation? Fiercely though she told +herself she would believe none of it, fiercely though she hated Mr. +Worthington, fervently though she repeated aloud that her love for Jethro +and her faith in him had not changed, the doubts remained. Yet they +remained unacknowledged. + +An hour passed. It was a thing beyond belief that one hour could have +held such a store of agony. An hour passed, and Cynthia came dry-eyed +from the parlor. Susan and Jane, waiting to give her comfort when she +was recovered a little from this unknown but overwhelming affliction, +were fain to stand mute when they saw her to pay a silent deference to +one whom sorrow had lifted far above them and transfigured. That was the +look on Cynthia's face. She went up the stairs, and they stood in the +hall not knowing what to do, whispering in awe-struck voices. They were +still there when Cynthia came down again, dressed for the street. Jane +seized her by the hand. + +"Where are you going, Cynthia?" she asked. + +"I shall be back by five," said Cynthia. + +She went up the hill, and across to old Louisburg Square, and up the hill +again. The weather had cleared, the violet-paned windows caught the +slanting sunlight and flung it back across the piles of snow. It was a +day for wedding-bells. At last Cynthia came to a queerly fashioned +little green door that seemed all askew with the slanting street, and +rang the bell, and in another moment was standing on the threshold of +Miss Lucretia Penniman's little sitting room. To Miss Lucretia, at her +writing table, one glance was sufficient. She rose quickly to meet the +girl, kissed her unresponsive cheek, and led her to a chair. Miss +Lucretia was never one to beat about the bush, even in the gravest +crisis. + +"You have read the articles," she said. + +Read them! During her walk hither Cynthia had been incapable of thought, +but the epithets and arraignments and accusations, the sentences and +paragraphs, wars printed now, upon her brain, never, she believed, to be +effaced. Every step of the way she had been unconsciously repeating +them. + +"Have you read them?" asked Cynthia. + +"Yes, my dear." + +"Has everybody read them?" Did the whole world, then, know of her shame? + +"I am glad you came to me, my dear," said Miss Lucretia, taking her hand. +"Have you talked of this to any one else?" + +"No," said Cynthia, simply. + +Miss Lucretia was puzzled. She had not looked for apathy, but she did +not know all of Cynthia's troubles. She wondered whether she had +misjudged the girl, and was misled by her attitude. + +"Cynthia," she said, with a briskness meant to hide emotion for Miss +Lucretia had emotions, "I am a lonely old woman, getting too old, indeed, +to finish the task of my life. I went to see Mrs. Merrill the other day +to ask her if she would let you come and live with me. Will you?" + +Cynthia shook her head. + +"No, Miss Lucretia, I cannot," she answered. + +"I won't press it on you now," said Miss Lucretia. + +"I cannot, Miss Lucretia. I'm going to Coniston." + +"Going to Coniston!" exclaimed Miss Lucretia. + +The name of that place--magic name, once so replete with visions of +happiness and content--seemed to recall Cynthia's spirit from its flight. +Yes, the spirit was there, for it flashed in her eyes as she turned and +looked into Miss Lucretia's face. + +"Are these the articles you read?" she asked; taking the clippings from +her muff. + +Miss Lucretia put on her spectacles. + +"I have seen both of them," she said. + +"And do you believe what they say about--about Jethro Bass?" + +Poor Miss Lucretia! For once in her life she was at a loss. She, too, +paid a deference to that face, young as it was. She had robbed herself +of sleep trying to make up her mind what she would say upon such an +occasion if it came. A wonderful virgin faith had to be shattered, and +was she to be the executioner? She loved the girl with that strange, +intense affection which sometimes comes to the elderly and the lonely, +and she had prayed that this cup might pass from her. Was it possible +that it was her own voice using very much the same words for which she +had rebuked Mrs. Merrill? + +"Cynthia," she said, "those articles were written by politicians, in a +political controversy. No such articles can ever be taken literally." + +"Miss Lucretia, do you believe what it says about Jethro Bass?" repeated +Cynthia. + +How was she to avoid those eyes? They pierced into, her soul, even as +her own had pierced into Mrs. Merrill's. Oh, Miss Lucretia, who pride +yourself on your plain speaking, that you should be caught quibbling! +Miss Lucretia blushed for the first time in many, years, and into her +face came the light of battle. + +"I am a coward, my dear. I deserve your rebuke. To the best of my +knowledge and belief, and so far as I can judge from the inquiries I have +undertaken, Jethro Bass has made his living and gained and held his power +by the methods described in those articles." + +Miss Lucretia took off her spectacles and wiped them. She had committed +a fine act of courage. + +Cynthia stood up. + +"Thank you," she said, "that is what I wanted to know." + +"But--"cried Miss Lucretia, in amazement and apprehension, "but what are +you going to do?" + +"I am going to Coniston," said Cynthia, "to ask him if those things are +true." + +"To ask him!" + +"Yes. If he tells me they are true, then I shall believe them." + +"If he tells you?" Miss Lucretia gasped. Here was a courage of which she +had not reckoned. "Do you think he will tell you?" + +"He will tell me, and I shall believe him, Miss Lucretia." + +"You are a remarkable girl, Cynthia," said Miss Lucretia, involuntarily. +Then she paused for a moment. "Suppose he tells you they are true? You +surely can't live with him again, Cynthia." + +"Do you suppose I am going to desert him, Miss Lucretia?" she asked. +"He loves me, and--and I love him." This was the first time her voice had +faltered. "He kept my father from want and poverty, and he has brought +me up as a daughter. If his life has been as you say, I shall make my +own living!" + +"How?" demanded Miss Lucretia, the practical part of her coming +uppermost. + +"I shall teach school. I believe I can get a position, in a place where +I can see him often. I can break his heart, Miss Lucretia, I--I can +bring sadness to myself, but I will not desert him." + +Miss Lucretia stared at her for a moment, not knowing what to say or do. +She perceived that the girl had a spirit as strong as her own: that her +plans were formed, her mind made up, and that no arguments could change +her. + +"Why did you come to me?" she asked irrelevantly. + +"Because I thought that you would have read the articles, and I knew if +you had, you would have taken the trouble to inform yourself of the +world's opinion." + +Again Miss Lucretia stared at her. + +"I will go to Coniston with you," she said, "at least as far as +Brampton." + +Cynthia's face softened a little at the words. + +"I would rather go alone, Miss Lucretia," she answered gently, but with +the same firmness. "I--I am very grateful to you for your kindness to me +in Boston. I shall not forget it--or you. Good-by, Miss Lucretia." + +But Miss Lucretia, sobbing openly, gathered the girl in her arms and +pressed her. Age was coming on her indeed, that she should show such +weakness. For a long time she could not trust herself to speak, and then +her words were broken. Cynthia must come to her at the first sign of +doubt or trouble: this, Miss Lucretia's house, was to be a refuge in any +storm that life might send--and Miss Lucretia's heart. Cynthia promised, +and when she went out at last through the little door her own tears were +falling, for she loved Miss Lucretia. + +Cynthia was going to Coniston. That journey was as fixed, as inevitable, +as things mortal can be. She would go to Coniston unless she perished on +the way. No loving entreaties, no fears of Mrs. Merrill or her +daughters, were of any avail. Mrs. Merrill too, was awed by the vastness +of the girl's sorrow, and wondered if her own nature were small by +comparison. She had wept, to be sure, at her husband's confession, and +lain awake over it in the night watches, and thought of the early days of +their marriage. + +And then, Mrs. Merrill told herself, Cynthia would have to talk with Mr. +Merrill. How was he to come unscathed out of that? There was pain and +bitterness in that thought, and almost resentment against Cynthia, +quivering though she was with sympathy for the girl. For Mrs. Merrill, +though the canker remained, had already pardoned her husband and had +asked the forgiveness of God for that pardon. On other occasions, in +other crisis, she had waited and watched for him in the parlor window, +and to-night she was at the door before his key was in the lock, while he +was still stamping the snow from his boots. She drew him into the room +and told him what had happened. + +"Oh, Stephen," she cried, "what are you going to say to her?" + +What, indeed? His wife had sorrowed, but she had known the obstacles and +perils by which he had been beset. But what was he to say to Cynthia? +Her very name had grown upon him, middle-aged man of affairs though he +was, until the thought of it summoned up in his mind a figure of purity, +and of the strength which was from purity. He would not have believed it +possible that the country girl whom they had taken into their house three +months before should have wrought such an influence over them all. + +Even in the first hour of her sorrow which she had spent that afternoon +in the parlor, Cynthia had thought of Mr. Merrill. He could tell her +whether those accusations were true or false, for he was a friend of +Jethro's. Her natural impulse--the primeval one of a creature which is +hurt--had been to hide herself; to fly to her own room, and perhaps by +nightfall the courage would come to her to ask him the terrible +questions. He was a friend of Jethro's. An illuminating flash revealed +to her the meaning of that friendship--if the accusations were true. It +was then she had thought of Miss Lucretia Penniman, and somehow she had +found the courage to face the sunlight and go to her. She would spare +Mr. Merrill. + +But had she spared him? Sadly the family sat down to supper without her, +and after supper Mr. Merrill sent a message to his club that he could not +attend a committee meeting there that evening. He sat with his wife in +the little writing room, he pretending to read and she pretending to sew, +until the silence grew too oppressive, and they spoke of the matter that +was in their hearts. It was one of the bitterest evenings in Mr. +Merrill's life, and there is no need to linger on it. They talked +earnestly of Cynthia, and of her future. But they both knew why she did +not come down to them. + +"So she is really going to Coniston," said Mr. Merrill. + +"Yes," answered Mrs. Merrill, "and I think she is doing right, Stephen." + +Mr. Merrill groaned. His wife rose and put her hand on his shoulder. + +"Come, Stephen," she said gently, "you will see her in the morning. + +"I will go to Coniston with her," he said. + +"No," replied Mrs. Merrily "she wants to go alone. And I believe it is +best that she should." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Great afflictions generally bring in their train a host of smaller +sorrows, each with its own little pang. One of these sorrows had been +the parting with the Merrill family. Under any circumstance it was not +easy for Cynthia to express her feelings, and now she had found it very +difficult to speak of the gratitude and affection which she felt. But +they understood--dear, good people that they were: no eloquence was +needed with them. The ordeal of breakfast over, and the tearful "God +bless you, Miss Cynthia," of Ellen the parlor-maid, the whole family had +gone with her to the station. For Susan and Jane had spent their last +day at Miss Sadler's school. + +Mr. Merrill had sent for the conductor and bidden him take care of Miss +Wetherell, and recommend her in his name to a conductor on the Truro +Road. The man took off his cap to Mr. Merrill and called him by name and +promised. It was a dark day, and long after the train had pulled out +Cynthia remembered the tearful faces of the family standing on the damp +platform of the station. As they fled northward through the flat river- +meadows, the conductor would have liked to talk to her of Mr. Merrill; +there were few employees on any railroad who did not know the genial and +kindly president of the Grand Gulf and sympathize with his troubles. But +there was a look on the girl's face that forbade intrusion. Passengers +stared at her covertly, as though fascinated by that look, and some tried +to fathom it. But her eyes were firmly fixed upon a point far beyond +their vision. The car stopped many times, and flew on again, but nothing +seemed to break her absorption. + +At last she was aroused by the touch of the conductor on her sleeve. The +people were beginning to file out of the car, and the train was under the +shadow of the snow-covered sheds in the station of the state capital. +Cynthia recognized the place, though it was cold and bare and very +different in appearance from what it had been on the summer's evening +when she had come into it with her father. That, in effect, had been her +first glimpse of the world, and well she recalled the thrill it had given +her. The joy of such things was gone now, the rapture of holidays and new +sights. These were over, so she told herself. Sorrow had quenched the +thrills forever. + +The kind conductor led her to the eating room, and when she would not eat +his concern drew greater than ever. He took a strange interest in this +young lady who had such a face and such eyes. He pointed her out to his +friend the Truro conductor, and gave him some sandwiches and fruit which +he himself had bought, with instructions to press them on her during the +afternoon. + +Cynthia could not eat. She hated this place, with its memories. Hated +it, too, as a mart where men were bought and sold, for the wording of +those articles ran in her head as though some priest of evil were +chanting them in her ears. She did not remember then the sweeter aspect +of the old town, its pretty homes set among their shaded gardens--homes +full of good and kindly people. State House affairs were far removed +from most of these, and the sickness and corruption of the body politic. +And this political corruption, had she known it, was no worse than that +of the other states in the wide Union: not so bad, indeed, as many, +though this was small comfort. No comfort at all to Cynthia, who did not +think of it. + +After a while she rose and followed the new conductor to the Truro train, +glad to leave the capital behind her. She was going to the hills--to the +mountains. They, in truth, could not change, though the seasons passed +over them, hot and cold, wet and dry. They were immutable in their +goodness. Presently she saw them, the lower ones: the waters of the +little stream beside her broke the black bonds of ice and raced over the +rapids; the engine was puffing and groaning on the grade. Then the sun +crept out, slowly, from the indefinable margin of vapor that hung massed +over the low country. + +Yes, she had come to the hills. Up and up climbed the train, through the +little white villages in the valley nooks, banked with whiter snow; +through the narrow gorges,--sometimes hanging over them,--under steep +granite walls seared with ice-filled cracks, their brows hung with +icicles. + +Truro Pass is not so high as the Brenner, but it has a grand, wild look +in winter, remote as it is from the haunts of men. A fitting refuge, it +might be, for a great spirit heavy with the sins of the world below. +Such a place might have been chosen, in the olden time, for a monastery-- +a gray fastness built against the black forest over the crag looking down +upon the green clumps of spruces against the snow. Some vague longing +for such a refuge was in Cynthia's heart as she gazed upon that silent +place, and then the waters had already begun to run westward--the waters +of Tumble Down brook, which flowed into Coniston Water above Brampton. +The sun still had more than two hours to go on its journey to the hill +crests when the train pulled into Brampton station. There were but a few +people on the platform, but the first face she saw as she stepped from +the car was Lem Hallowell's. It was a very red face, as we know, and its +owner was standing in front of the Coniston stage, on runners now. He +stared at her for an instant, and no wonder, and then he ran forward with +outstretched hands. + +"Cynthy--Cynthy Wetherell!" he cried. "Great Godfrey!" + +He got so far, he seized her hands, and then he stopped, not knowing why. +There were many more ejaculations and welcomes and what not on the end of +his tongue. It was not that she had become a lady--a lady of a type he +had never before seen. He meant to say that, too, in his own way, but he +couldn't. And that transformation would have bothered Lem but little. +What was the change, then? Why was he in awe of her--he, Lem Hallowell, +who had never been in awe of any one? He shook his head, as though +openly confessing his inability to answer that question. He wanted to +ask others, but they would not come. + +"Lem," she said, "I am so glad you are here." + +"Climb right in, Cynthy. I'll get the trunk." There it lay, the little +rawhide one before him on the boards, and he picked it up in his bare +hands as though it had been a paper parcel. It was a peculiarity of the +stage driver that he never wore gloves, even in winter, so remarkable was +the circulation of his blood. After the trunk he deposited, apparently +with equal ease, various barrels and boxes, and then he jumped in beside +Cynthia, and they drove down familiar Brampton Street, as wide as a wide +river; past the meeting-house with the terraced steeple; past the +postoffice,--Cousin Ephraim's postoffice,--where Lem gave her a +questioning look--but she shook her head, and he did not wait for the +distribution of the last mail that day; past the great mansion of Isaac +D. Worthington, where the iron mastiffs on the lawn were up to their +muzzles in snow. After that they took the turn to the right, which was +the road to Coniston. + +Well-remembered road, and in winter or summer, Cynthia knew every tree +and farmhouse beside it. Now it consisted of two deep grooves in the +deep snow; that was all, save for a curving turnout here and there for +team to pass team. Well-remembered scene! How often had Cynthia looked +upon it in happier days! Such a crust was on the snow as would bear a +heavy man; and the pasture hillocks were like glazed cakes in the window +of a baker's shop. Never had the western sky looked so yellow through +the black columns of the pine trunks. A lonely, beautiful road it was +that evening. + +For a long time the silence of the great hills was broken only by the +sweet jingle of the bells on the shaft. Many a day, winter and summer, +Lem had gone that road alone, whistling, and never before heeding that +silence. Now it seemed to symbolize a great sorrow: to be in subtle +harmony with that of the girl at his side. What that sorrow was he could +not guess. The good man yearned to comfort her, and yet he felt his +comfort too humble to be noticed by such sorrow. He longed to speak, but +for the first time in his life feared the sound of his own voice. +Cynthia had not spoken since she left the station, had not looked at him, +had not asked for the friends and neighbors whom she had loved so well-- +had not asked for Jethro! Was there any sorrow on earth to be felt like +that? And was there one to feel it? + +At length, when they reached the great forest, Lem Hallowell knew that he +must speak or cry aloud. But what would be the sound of his voice--after +such an age of disuse? Could he speak at all? Broken and hoarse and +hideous though the sound might be, he must speak. And hoarse and broken +it was. It was not his own, but still it was a voice. + +"Folks--folks'll be surprised to see you, Cynthy." + +No, he had not spoken at all. Yes, he had, for she answered him. + +"I suppose they will, Lem." + +"Mighty glad to have you back, Cynthy. We think a sight of you. We +missed you." + +"Thank you, Lem." + +"Jethro hain't lookin' for you by any chance, be he? + +"No," she said. But the question startled her. Suppose he had not been +at home! She had never once thought of that. Could she have borne to +wait for him? + +After that Lem gave it up. He had satisfied himself as to his vocal +powers, but he had not the courage even to whistle. The journey to +Coniston was faster in the winter, and at the next turn of the road the +little village came into view. There it was, among the snows. The pain +in Cynthia's heart, so long benumbed, quickened when she saw it. How +write of the sharpness of that pain to those who have never known it? +The sight of every gable brought its agony,--the store with the checker- +paned windows, the harness shop, the meeting-house, the white parsonage +on its little hill. Rias Richardson ran out of the store in his carpet +slippers, bareheaded in the cold, and gave one shout. Lem heeded him +not; did not stop there as usual, but drove straight to the tannery house +and pulled up under the butternut tree. Milly Skinner ran out on the +porch, and gave one long look, and cried:-- + +"Good Lord, it's Cynthy!" + +"Where's Jethro?" demanded Lem. + +Milly did not answer at once. She was staring at Cynthia. + +"He's in the tannery shed," she said, "choppin' wood." But still she +kept her eyes on Cynthia's face. "I'll fetch him." + +"No," said Cynthia, "I'll go to him there." + +She took the path, leaving Millicent with her mouth open, too amazed to +speak again, and yet not knowing why. + +In the tannery shed! Would Jethro remember what happened there almost +six and thirty years before? Would he remember how that other Cynthia +had come to him there, and what her appeal had been? + +Cynthia came to the doors. One of these was open now--both had been +closed that other evening against the storm of sleet--and she caught a +glimpse of him standing on the floor of chips and bark--tan-bark no more. +Cynthia caught a glimpse of him, and love suddenly welled up into her +heart as waters into a spring after a drought. He had not seen her, not +heard the sound of the sleigh-bells. He was standing with his foot upon +the sawbuck and the saw across his knee, he was staring at the woodpile, +and there was stamped upon his face a look which no man or woman had ever +seen there, a look of utter loneliness and desolation, a look as of a +soul condemned to wander forever through the infinite, cold spaces +between the worlds--alone. + +Cynthia stopped at sight of it. What had been her misery and affliction +compared to this? Her limbs refused her, though she knew not whether she +would have fled or rushed into his arms. How long she stood thus, and he +stood, may not be said, but at length he put down his foot and took the +saw from his knee, his eyes fell upon her, and his lips spoke her name. + +"Cynthy!" + +Speechless, she ran to him and flung her arms about his neck, and he +dropped the saw and held her tightly--even as he had held that other +Cynthia in that place in the year gone by. And yet not so. Now he clung +to her with a desperation that was terrible, as though to let go of her +would be to fall into nameless voids beyond human companionship and love. +But at last he did release her, and stood looking down into her face, as +if seeking to read a sentence there. + +And how was she to pronounce that sentence! Though her faith might be +taken away, her love remained, and grew all the greater because he needed +it. Yet she knew that no subterfuge or pretence would avail her to hide +why she had come. She could not hide it. It must be spoken out now, +though death was preferable. + +And he was waiting. Did he guess? She could not tell. He had spoken no +word but her name. He had expressed no surprise at her appearance, asked +no reasons for it. Superlatives of suffering or joy or courage are hard +to convey--words fall so far short of the feeling. And Cynthia's pain +was so far beyond tears. + +"Uncle Jethro," she said, "yesterday something--something happened. I +could not stay in Boston any longer." + +He nodded. + +"I had to come to you. I could not wait." + +He nodded again. + +"I--I read something." To take a white-hot iron and sear herself would +have been easier than this. + +"Yes," he said. + +She felt that the look was coming again--the look which she had surprised +in his face. His hands dropped lifelessly from her shoulders, and he +turned and went to the door, where he stood with his back to her, +silhouetted against the eastern sky all pink from the reflection of +sunset. He would not help her. Perhaps he could not. The things were +true. There had been a grain of hope within her, ready to sprout. + +"I read two articles from the Newcastle Guardian about you--about your +life." + +"Yes," he said. But he did not turn. + +"How you had--how you had earned your living. How you had gained your +power," she went on, her pain lending to her voice an exquisite note of +many modulations. + +"Yes--Cynthy," he said, and still stared at the eastern sky. + +She took two steps toward him, her arms outstretched, her fingers opening +and closing. And then she stopped. + +"I would believe no one," she said, "I will believe no one--until--unless +you tell me. Uncle Jethro," she cried in agony, "Uncle Jethro, tell me +that those things are not true!" + +She waited a space, but he did not stir. There was no sound, save the +song of Coniston Water under the shattered ice. + +"Won't you speak to me?" she whispered. "Won't you tell me that they are +not true?" + +His shoulders shook convulsively. O for the right to turn to her and +tell her that they were lies! He would have bartered his soul for it. +What was all the power in the world compared to this priceless treasure +he had lost? Once before he had cast it away, though without meaning to. +Then he did not know the eternal value of love--of such love as those two +women had given him. Now he knew that it was beyond value, the one +precious gift of life, and the knowledge had come too late. Could he +have saved his life if he had listened to that other Cynthia? + +"Won't you tell me that they are not true?" + +Even then he did not turn to her, but he answered. Curious to relate, +though his heart was breaking, his voice was steady--steady as it always +had been. + +"I--I've seen it comin', Cynthy," he said. "I never knowed anything I +was afraid of before--but I was afraid of this. I knowed what your +notions of right and wrong was--your--your mother had them. They're the +principles of good people. I--I knowed the day would come when you'd +ask, but I wanted to be happy as long as I could. I hain't been happy, +Cynthy. But you was right when you said I'd tell you the truth. S-so I +will. I guess them things which you speak about are true--the way I got +where I am, and the way I made my livin'. They--they hain't put just as +they'd ought to be, perhaps, but that's the way I done it in the main." + +It was thus that Jethro Bass met the supreme crisis of his life. And who +shall say he did not meet it squarely and honestly? Few men of finer +fibre and more delicate morals would have acquitted themselves as well. +That was a Judgment Day for Jethro; and though he knew it not, he spoke +through Cynthia to his Maker, confessing his faults freely and humbly, +and dwelling on the justness of his punishment; putting not forward any +good he may have done; nor thinking of it; nor seeking excuse because of +the light that was in him. Had he been at death's door in the face of +nameless tortures, no man could have dragged such a confession from him. +But a great love had been given him, and to that love he must speak the +truth, even at the cost of losing it. + +But he was not to lose it. Even as he was speaking a thrill of +admiration ran through Cynthia, piercing her sorrow. The superb strength +of the man was there in that simple confession, and it is in the nature +of woman to admire strength. He had fought his fight, and gained, and +paid the price without a murmur, seeking no palliation. Cynthia had not +come to that trial--so bitter for her--as a judge. If the reader has +seen youth and innocence sitting in the seat of justice, with age and +experience at the bar, he has mistaken Cynthia. She came to Coniston +inexorable, it is true, because hers was a nature impelled to do right +though it perish. She did not presume to say what Jethro's lights and +opportunities might have been. Her own she knew, and by them she must +act accordingly. + +When he had finished speaking, she stole silently to his side and slipped +her hand in his. He trembled violently at her touch. + +"Uncle Jethro," she said in a low tone, "I love you." + +At the words he trembled more violently still. + +"No, no, Cynthy," he answered thickly, "don't say that--I--I don't expect +it, Cynthy, I know you can't--'twouldn't be right, Cynthy. I hain't fit +for it." + +"Uncle Jethro," she said, "I love you better than I have ever loved you +in my life." + +Oh, how welcome were the tears! and how human! He turned, pitifully +incredulous, wondering that she should seek by deceit to soften the blow; +he saw them running down her cheeks, and he believed. Yes, he believed, +though it seemed a thing beyond belief. Unworthy, unfit though he were, +she loved him. And his own love as he gazed at her, sevenfold increased +as it had been by the knowledge of losing her, changed in texture from +homage to worship--nay, to adoration. His punishment would still be +heavy; but whence had come such a wondrous gift to mitigate it? + +"Oh, don't you believe me?" she cried, "can't you see that it is true?" + +And yet he could only hold her there at arm's length with that new and +strange reverence in his face. He was not worthy to touch her, but still +she loved him. + +The flush had faded from the eastern sky, and the faintest border of +yellow light betrayed the ragged outlines of the mountain as they walked +together to the tannery house. + +Millicent, in the kitchen, was making great preparations--for Millicent. +Miss Skinner was a person who had hitherto laid it down as a principle of +life to pay deference or do honor to no human made of mere dust, like +herself. Millicent's exception; if Cynthia had thought about it, was a +tribute of no mean order. Cynthia, alas, did not think about it: she did +not know that, in her absence, the fire had not been lighted in the +evening, Jethro supping on crackers and milk and Milly partaking of the +evening meal at home. Moreover, Miss Skinner had an engagement with a +young man. Cynthia saw the fire, and threw off her sealskin coat which +Mr. and Mrs. Merrill had given her for Christmas, and took down the +saucepan from the familiar nail on which it hung. It was a miraculous +fact, for which she did not attempt to account, that she was almost +happy: happy, indeed, in comparison to that which had been her state +since the afternoon before. Millicent snatched the saucepan angrily from +her hand. + +"What be you doin', Cynthy?" she demanded. + +Such was Miss Skinner's little way of showing deference. Though +deference is not usually vehement, Miss Skinner's was very real, +nevertheless. + +"Why, Milly, what's the matter?" exclaimed Cynthia, in astonishment. + +"You hain't a-goin' to do any cookin', that's all," said Milly, very red +in the face. + +"But I've always helped," said Cynthia. "Why not?" + +Why not? A tribute was one thing, but to have to put the reasons for +that tribute, into words was quite another. + +"Why not?" cried Milly, "because you hain't a-goin' to, that's all." + +Strange deference! But Cynthia turned and looked at the girl with a +little, sad smile of comprehension and affection. She took her by the +shoulders and kissed her. + +Whereupon a most amazing thing happened--Millicent burst into tears-- +wild, ungovernable tears they were. + +"Because you hain't a-goin' to," she repeated, her words interspersed +with violent sobs. "You go 'way, Cynthy," she cried, "git out!" + +"Milly," said Cynthia, shaking her head, "you ought to be ashamed of +yourself." But they were not words of reproof. She took a little lamp +from the shelf, and went up the narrow stairs to her own room in the +gable, where Lemuel had deposited the rawhide trunk. + +Though she had had nothing all day, she felt no hunger, but for Milly's +sake she tried hard to eat the supper when it came. Before it had fairly +begun Moses Hatch had arrived, with Amandy and Eben; and Rias Richardson +came in, and other neighbors, to say a word of welcome to hear (if the +truth be not too disparaging to their characters) the reasons for her +sudden appearance, and such news of her Boston experiences as she might +choose to give them. They had learned from Lem Hallowell that Cynthia +had returned a lady: a real lady, not a sham one who relied on airs and +graces, such as had come to Coniston the summer before to look for a +summer place on the painter's recommendation. Lem was not a gossip, in +the disagreeable sense of the term, and he had not said a word to his +neighbors of his feelings on that terrible drive from Brampton. Knowing +that some blow had fallen upon Cynthia, he would have spared her these +visits if he could. But Lem was wise and kind, so he merely said that +she had returned a lady. + +And they had found a lady. As they stood or sat around the kitchen (Eben +and Rias stood), Cynthia talked to them--about Coniston: rather, be it +said, that they talked about Coniston in answer to her questions. The +sledding had been good; Moses had hauled so many thousand feet of lumber +to Brampton; Sam Price's woman (she of Harwich) had had a spell of +sciatica; Chester Perkins's bull had tossed his brother-in-law, come from +Iowy on a visit, and broke his leg; yes, Amandy guessed her dyspepsy was +somewhat improved since she had tried Graham's Golden Remedy--it made her +feel real lighthearted; Eben (blushing furiously) was to have the Brook +Farm in the spring; there was a case of spotted fever in Tarleton. + +Yes, Lem Hallowell had been right, Cynthia was a lady, but not a mite +stuck up. What was the difference in her? Not her clothes, which she +wore as if she had been used to them all her life. Poor Cynthia, the +clothes were simple enough. Not her manner, which was as kind and sweet +as ever. What was it that compelled their talk about themselves, that +made them refrain from asking those questions about Boston, and why she +had come back? Some such query was running in their minds as they +talked, while Jethro, having finished his milk and crackers, sat silent +at the end of the table with his eyes upon her. He rose when Mr. +Satterlee came in. + +Mr. Satterlee looked at her, and then he went quietly across the room and +kissed her. But then Mr. Satterlee was the minister. Cynthia thought +his hair a little thinner and the lines in his face a little deeper. And +Mr. Satterlee thought perhaps he was the only one of the visitors who +guessed why she had come back. He laid his thin hand on her head, as +though in benediction, and sat down beside her. + +"And how is the learning, Cynthia?" he asked. + +Now, indeed, they were going to hear something at last. An intuition +impelled Cynthia to take advantage of that opportunity. + +"The learning has become so great, Mr. Satterlee," she said, "that I have +come back to try to make some use of it. It shall be wasted no more." + +She did not dare to look at Jethro, but she was aware that he had sat +down abruptly. What sacrifice will not a good woman make to ease the +burden of those whom she loves! And Jethro's burden would be heavy +enough. Such a woman will speak almost gayly, though her heart be heavy. +But Cynthia's was lighter now than it had been. + +"I was always sure you would not waste your learning, Cynthia," said Mr. +Satterlee, gravely; "that you would make the most of the advantages God +has given you." + +"I am going to try, Mr. Satterlee. I cannot be content in idleness. I +was wasting time in Boston, and I--I was not happy so far away from you +all--from Uncle Jethro. Mr. Satterlee, I am going to teach school. I +have always wanted to, and now I have made up my mind to do it." + +This was Jethro's punishment. But had she not lightened it for him a +little by choosing this way of telling him that she could not eat his +bread or partake of his bounty? Though by reason of that bounty she was +what she was, she could not live and thrive on it longer, coming as it +did from such a source. Mr. Satterlee might perhaps surmise the truth, +but the town and village would think her ambition a very natural one, +certainly no better time could have been chosen to announce it. + +"To teach school." She was sure now that Mr. Satterlee knew and +approved, and perceived something, at least, of her little ruse. He was +a man whose talents fitted him for a larger flock than he had at +Coniston, but he possessed neither the graces demanded of city ministers +nor the power of pushing himself. Never was a more retiring man. The +years she had spent in his study had not gone for nothing, for he who has +cherished the bud can predict what the flower will be, and Mr. Satterlee +knew her spiritually better than any one else in Coniston. He had heard +of her return, and had walked over to the tannery house, full of fears, +the remembrance of those expressions of simple faith in Jethro coming +back to his mind. Had the revelation which he had so long expected come +at last? and how had she taken it? would it embitter her? The good man +believed that it would not, and now he saw that it had not, and rejoiced +accordingly. + +"To teach school," he said. "I expected that you would wish to, Cynthia. +It is a desire that most of us have, who like books and what is in them. +I should have taught school if I had not become a minister. It is a high +calling, and an absorbing one, to develop the minds of the young." Mr. +Satterlee was often a little discursive, though there was reason for it +on this occasion, and Moses Hatch half closed his eyes and bowed his head +a little out of sheer habit at the sound of the minister's voice. But he +raised it suddenly at the next words. "I was in Brampton yesterday, and +saw Mr. Graves, who is on the prudential committee of that district. You +may not have heard that Miss Goddard has left. They have not yet +succeeded in filling her place, and I think it more than likely that you +can get it." + +Cynthia glanced at Jethro, but the habit of years was so strong in him +that he gave no sign. + +"Do you think so, Mr. Satterlee?" she said gratefully. "I had heard of +the place, and hoped for it, because it is near enough for me to spend +the Saturdays and Sundays with Uncle Jethro. And I meant to go to +Brampton tomorrow to see about it." + +"I will go with you," said the minister; "I have business in Brampton to- +morrow." He did not mention that this was the business. + +When at length they had all departed, Jethro rose and went about the +house making fast the doors, as was his custom, while Cynthia sat staring +through the bars at the dying embers in the stove. He knew now, and it +was inevitable that he should know, what she had made up her mind to do. +It had been decreed that she, who owed him everything, should be made to +pass this most dreadful of censures upon his whole life. Oh, the cruelty +of that decree! + +How, she mused, would it affect him? Had the blow been so great that he +would relinquish those practices which had become a lifelong habit with +him? Would he (she caught her breath at this thought) would he abandon +that struggle with Isaac D. Worthington in which he was striving to +maintain the mastery of the state by those very practices? Cynthia hated +Mr. Worthington. The term is not too strong, and it expresses her +feeling. But she would have got down on her knees on the board floor of +the kitchen that very night and implored Jethro to desist from that +contest, if she could. She remembered how, in her innocence, she had +believed that the people had given Jethro his power,--in those days when +she was so proud of that very power,--now she knew that he had wrested it +from them. What more supreme sacrifice could he make than to relinquish +it! Ah, there was a still greater sacrifice that Jethro was to make, had +she known it. + +He came and stood over her by the stove, and she looked up into his face +with these yearnings in her eyes. Yes, she would have thrown herself on +her knees, if she could. But she could not. Perhaps he would abandon +that struggle. Perhaps--perhaps his heart was broken. And could a man +with a broken heart still fight on? She took his hand and pressed it +against her face, and he felt that it was wet with her tears. + +"B-better go to bed now, Cynthy," he said; "m-must be worn out--m-must be +worn out." + +He stooped and kissed her on the forehead. It was thus that Jethro Bass +accepted his sentence. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +At sunrise, in that Coniston hill-country, it is the western hills which +are red; and a distant hillock on the meadow farm which was soon to be +Eden's looked like the daintiest conical cake with pink icing as Cynthia +surveyed the familiar view the next morning. There was the mountain, the +pastures on the lower slopes all red, too, and higher up the dark masses +of bristling spruce and pine and hemlock mottled with white where the +snow-covered rocks showed through. + +Sunrise in January is not very early, and sunrise at any season is not +early for Coniston. Cynthia sat at her window, and wondered whether that +beautiful landscape would any longer be hers. Her life had grown up on +it; but now her life had changed. Would the beauty be taken from it, +too? Almost hungrily she gazed at the scene. She might look upon it +again--many times, perhaps--but a conviction was strong in her that its +daily possession would now be only a memory. + +Mr. Satterlee was as good as his word, for he was seated in the stage +when it drew up at the tannery house, ready to go to Brampton. And as +they drove away Cynthia took one last look at Jethro standing on the +porch. It seemed to her that it had been given her to feel all things, +and to know all things: to know, especially, this strange man, Jethro +Bass, as none other knew him, and to love him as none other loved him. +The last severe wrench was come, and she had left him standing there +alone in the cold, divining what was in his heart as though it were in +her own. How worthless was this mighty power which he had gained, how +hateful, when he could not bestow the smallest fragment of it upon one +whom he loved? Someone has described hell as disqualification in the +face of opportunity. Such was Jethro's torment that morning as he saw +her drive away, the minister in the place where he should have been, at +her side, and he, Jethro Bass, as helpless as though he had indeed been +in the pit among the flames. Had the prudential committee at Brampton +promised the appointment ten times over, he might still have obtained it +for her by a word. And he must not speak even that word. Who shall say +that a large part of the punishment of Jethro Bass did not come to him in +the life upon this earth. + +Some such thoughts were running in Cynthia's head as they jingled away to +Brampton that dazzling morning. Perhaps the stage driver, too, who knew +something of men and things and who meddled not at all, had made a guess +at the situation. He thought that Cynthia's spirits seemed lightened a +little, and he meant to lighten them more; so he joked as much as his +respect for his passengers would permit, and told the news of Brampton. +Not the least of the news concerned the first citizen of that place. +There was a certain railroad in the West which had got itself much into +Congress, and much into the newspapers, and Isaac D. Worthington had got +himself into that railroad: was gone West, it was said on that business, +and might not be back for many weeks. And Lem Hallowell remembered when +Mr. Worthington was a slim-cheated young man wandering up and down +Coniston Water in search of health. Good Mr. Satterlee, thinking this a +safe subject, allowed himself to be led into a discussion of the first +citizen's career, which indeed had something fascinating in it. + +Thus they jingled into Brampton Street and stopped before the cottage of +Judge Graves--a courtesy title. The judge himself came to the door and +bestowed a pronounced bow on the minister, for Mr. Satterlee was honored +in Brampton. Just think of what Ezra Graves might have looked like, and +you have him. He greeted Cynthia, too, with a warm welcome--for Ezra +Graves,--and ushered them into a best parlor which was reserved for +ministers and funerals and great occasions in general, and actually +raised the blinds. Then Mr. Satterlee, with much hemming and hawing, +stated the business which had brought them, while Cynthia looked out of +the window. + +Mr. Graves sat and twirled his lean thumbs. He went so far as to say +that he admired a young woman who scorned to live in idleness, who wished +to impart the learning with which she had been endowed. Fifteen +applicants were under consideration for the position, and the prudential +committee had so far been unable to declare that any of them were +completely qualified. (It was well named, that prudential committee?) +Mr. Graves, furthermore, volunteered that he had expressed a wish to +Colonel Prescott (Oh, Ephraim, you too have got a title with your new +honors!), to Colonel Prescott and others, that Miss Wetherell might take +the place. The middle term opened on the morrow, and Miss Bruce, of the +Worthington Free Library, had been induced to teach until a successor +could be appointed, although it was most inconvenient for Miss Bruce. + +Could Miss Wetherell start in at once, provided the committee agreed? +Cynthia replied that she would like nothing better. There would be an +examination before Mr. Errol, the Brampton Superintendent of Schools. In +short, owing to the pressing nature of the occasion, the judge would +take the liberty of calling the committee together immediately. Would +Mr. Satterlee and Miss Wetherell make themselves at home in the parlor? + +It very frequently happens that one member of a committee is the brain, +and the other members form the body of it. It was so in this case. Ezra +Graves typified all of prudence there was about it, which, it must be +admitted, was a great deal. He it was who had weighed in the balance the +fifteen applicants and found them wanting. Another member of the +committee was that comfortable Mr. Dodd, with the tuft of yellow beard, +the hardware dealer whom we have seen at the baseball game. Mr. Dodd was +not a person who had opinions unless they were presented to him from +certain sources, and then he had been known to cling to them tenaciously. +It is sufficient to add that, when Cynthia Wetherell's name was mentioned +to him, he remembered the girl to whom Bob Worthington had paid such +marked attentions on the grand stand. He knew literally nothing else +about Cynthia. Judge Graves, apparently, knew all about her; this was +sufficient, at that time, for Mr. Dodd; he was sick and tired of the +whole affair, and if, by the grace of heaven, an applicant had been sent +who conformed with Judge Graves's multitude of requirements, he was +devoutly thankful. The other member, Mr. Hill, was a feed and lumber +dealer, and not a very good one, for he was always in difficulties; +certain scholarly attainments were attributed to him, and therefore he +had been put on the committee. They met in Mr. Dodd's little office back +of the store, and in five minutes Cynthia was a schoolmistress, subject +to examination by Mr. Errol. + +Just a word about Mr. Errol. He was a retired lawyer, with some means, +who took an interest in town affairs to occupy his time. He had a very +delicate wife, whom he had been obliged to send South at the beginning of +the winter. There she had for a while improved, but had been taken ill +again, and two days before Cynthia's appointment he had been summoned to +her bedside by a telegram. Cynthia could go into the school, and her +examination would take place when Mr. Errol returned. + +All this was explained by the judge when, half an hour after he had left +them, he returned to the best parlor. Miss Wetherell would, then, be +prepared to take the school the following morning. Whereupon the judge +shook hands with her, and did not deny that he had been instrumental in +the matter. + +"And, Mr. Satterlee, I am so grateful to you," said Cynthia, when they +were in the street once more. + +"My dear Cynthia, I did nothing," answered the minister, quite bewildered +by the quick turn affairs had taken; "it is your own good reputation that +got you the place." + +Nevertheless Mr. Satterlee had done his share in the matter. He had +known Mr. Graves for a long time, and better than any other person in +Brampton. Mr. Graves remembered Cynthia Ware, and indeed had spoken to +Cynthia that day about her mother. Mr. Graves had also read poor William +Wetherell's contributions to the Newcastle Guardian, and he had not read +that paper since they had ceased. From time to time Mr. Satterlee had +mentioned his pupil to the judge, whose mind had immediately flown to her +when the vacancy occurred. So it all came about. + +"And now," said Mr. Satterlee, "what will you do, Cynthia? We've got the +good part of a day to arrange where you will live, before the stage +returns." + +"I won't go back to-night, I think," said Cynthia, turning her head away; +"if you would be good enough to tell Uncle Jethro to send my trunk and +some other things." + +"Perhaps that is just as well," assented the minister, understanding +perfectly. "I have thought that Miss Bruce might be glad to board you," +he continued, after a pause. "Let us go to see her." + +"Mr. Satterlee," said Cynthia, "would you mind if we went first to see +Cousin Ephraim?" + +"Why, of course, we must see Ephraim," said Mr. Satterlee, briskly. So +they walked on past the mansion of the first citizen, and the new block +of stores which the first citizen had built, to the old brick building +which held the Brampton post-office, and right through the door of the +partition into the sanctum of the postmaster himself, which some one had +nicknamed the Brampton Club. On this occasion the postmaster was seated +in his shirt sleeves by the stove, alone, his listeners being conspicuously +absent. Cynthia, who had caught a glimpse of him through the little mail- +window, thought he looked very happy and comfortable. + +"Great Tecumseh!" he cried,--an exclamation he reserved for extraordinary +occasions, "if it hain't Cynthy!" + +He started to hobble toward her, but Cynthia ran to him. + +"Why," said he, looking at her closely after the greeting was over, "you +be changed, Cynthy. Mercy, I don't know as I'd have dared done that if +I'd seed you first. What have you b'en doin' to yourself? You must have +seed a whole lot down there in Boston. And you're a full-blown lady, +too." + +"Oh, no, I'm not, Cousin Eph," she answered, trying to smile. + +"Yes, you be," he insisted, still scrutinizing her, vainly trying to +account for the change. Tact, as we know, was not Ephraim's strong +point. Now he shook his head. "You always was beyond me. Got a sort of +air about you, and it grows on you, too. Wouldn't be surprised," he +declared, speaking now to the minister, "wouldn't be a mite surprised to +see her in the White House, some day." + +"Now, Cousin Eph," said Cynthia, coloring a little, "you mustn't talk +nonsense. What have you done with your coat? You have no business to go +without it with your rheumatism." + +"It hain't b'en so bad since Uncle Sam took me over again, Cynthy," he +answered, "with nothin' to do but sort letters in a nice hot room." The +room was hot, indeed. "But where did you come from?" + +"I grew tired of being taught, Cousin Eph. I--I've always wanted to +teach. Mr. Satterlee has been with me to see Mr. Graves, and they've +given me Miss Goddard's place. I'm coming to Brampton to live, to-day." + +"Great Tecumseh!" exclaimed Ephraim again, overpowered by the yews. "I +want to know! What does Jethro say to that?" + +"He--he is willing," she replied in a low voice. + +"Well," said Ephraim, "I always thought you'd come to it. It's in the +blood, I guess--teachin'. Your mother had it too. I'm kind of sorry for +Jethro, though, so I be. But I'm glad for myself, Cynthy. So you're +comin' to Brampton to live with me! + +"I was going to ask Miss Bruce to take me in," said Cynthia. + +"No you hain't, anything of the kind," said Ephraim, indignantly. "I've +got a little house up the street, and a room all ready for you." + +"Will you let me share expenses, Cousin Eph?" + +"I'll let you do anything you want," said he, "so's you come. Don't you +think she'd ought to come and take care of an old man, Mr. Satterlee?" + +Mr. Satterlee turned. He had been contemplating, during this +conversation, a life-size print of General Grant under two crossed flags, +that was hung conspicuously on the wall. + +"I do not think you could do better, Cynthia," he answered, smiling. The +minister liked Ephraim, and he liked a little joke, occasionally. He +felt that one would not be, particularly out of place just now; so he +repeated, "I do not think you could do better than to accept the offer of +Colonel Prescott." + +Ephraim grew very red, as was his wont when twitted about his new title. +He took things literally. + +"I hain't a colonel, no more than you be, Mr. Satterlee. But the boys +down here will have it so." + +Three days later, by the early train which leaves the state capital at an +unheard-of hour in the morning, a young man arrived in Brampton. His jaw +seemed squarer than ever to the citizens who met the train out of +curiosity, and to Mr. Dodd, who was expecting a pump; and there was a set +look on his face like that of a man who is going into a race or a fight. +Mr. Dodd, though astonished, hastened toward him. + +"Well, this is unexpected, Bob," said he. "How be you? Harvard College +failed up?" + +For Mr. Dodd never let slip a chance to assure a member of the +Worthington family of his continued friendship. + +"How are you, Mr. Dodd?" answered Bob, nodding at him carelessly, and +passing on. Mr. Dodd did not dare to follow. What was young Worthington +doing in Brampton, and his father in the West on that railroad business? +Filled with curiosity, Mr. Dodd forgot his pump, but Bob was already +striding into Brampton Street, carrying his bag. If he had stopped for a +few moments with the hardware dealer, or chatted with any of the dozen +people who bowed and stared at him, he might have saved himself a good +deal of trouble. He turned in at the Worthington mansion, and rang the +bell, which was answered by Sarah, the housemaid. + +"Mr. Bob!" she exclaimed. + +"Where's Mrs. Holden?" he asked. + +Mrs. Holden was the elderly housekeeper. She had gone, unfortunately, to +visit a bereaved relative; unfortunately for Bob, because she, too, might +have told him something. + +"Get me some breakfast, Sarah. Anything," he commanded, "and tell Silas +to hitch up the black trotters to my cutter." + +Sarah, though in consternation, did as she was bid. The breakfast was +forthcoming, and in half an hour Silas had the black trotters at the +door. Bob got in without a word, seized the reins, the cutter flew down +Brampton Street (observed by many of the residents thereof) and turned +into the Coniston road. Silas said nothing. Silas, as a matter of fact, +never did say anything. He had been the Worthington coachman for five +and twenty years, and he was known in Brampton as Silas the Silent. +Young Mr. Worthington had no desire to talk that morning. + +The black trotters covered the ten miles in much quicker time than Lem +Hallowell could do it in his stage, but the distance seemed endless to +Bob. It was not much more than half an hour after he had left Brampton +Street, however, that he shot past the store, and by the time Rias +Richardson in his carpet slippers reached the platform the cutter was in +front of the tannery house, and the trotters, with their sides smoking, +were pawing up the snow under the butternut tree. + +Bob leaped out, hurried up the path, and knocked at the door. It was +opened by Jethro Bass himself + +"How do you do, Mr. Bass," said the young man, gravely, and he held out +his hand. Jethro gave him such a scrutinizing look as he had given many +a man whose business he cared to guess, but Bob looked fearlessly into +his eyes. Jethro took his hand. + +"C-come in," he said. + +Bob went into that little room where Jethro and Cynthia had spent so many +nights together, and his glance flew straight to the picture on the +wall,--the portrait of Cynthia Wetherell in crimson and seed pearls, so +strangely set amidst such surroundings. His glance went to the portrait, +and his feet followed, as to a lodestone. He stood in front of it for +many minutes, in silence, and Jethro watched him. At last he turned. + +"Where is she?" he asked. + +It was a queer question, and Jethro's answer was quite as lacking in +convention. + +"G-gone to Brampton--gone to Brampton." + +"Gone to Brampton! Do you mean to say--? What is she doing there?" Bob +demanded. + +"Teachin' school," said Jethro; "g-got Miss Goddard's place." + +Bob did not reply for a moment. The little schoolhouse was the only +building in Brampton he had glanced at as he came through. Mrs. Merrill +had told him that she might take that place, but he had little imagined +she was already there on her platform facing the rows of shining little +faces at the desks. He had deemed it more than possible that he might +see Jethro at Coniston, but he had not taken into account that which he +might say to him. Bob had, indeed, thought of nothing but Cynthia, and +of the blow that had fallen upon her. He had tried to realize the, +multiple phases of the situation which confronted him. Here was the man +who, by the conduct of his life, had caused the blow; he, too, was her +benefactor; and again, this same man was engaged in the bitterest of +conflicts with his father, Isaac D. Worthington, and it was this conflict +which had precipitated that blow. Bob could not have guessed, by looking +at Jethro Bass, how great was the sorrow which had fallen upon him. But +Bob knew that Jethro hated his father, must hate him now, because of +Cynthia, with a hatred given to few men to feel. He thought that Jethro +would crush Mr. Worthington and ruin him if he could; and Bob believed he +could. + +What was he to say? He did not fear Jethro, for Bob Worthington had +courage enough; but these things were running in his mind, and he felt +the power of the man before him, as all men did. Bob went to the window +and came back again. He knew that he must speak. + +"Mr. Bass," he said at last, "did Cynthia ever mention me to you?" + +"No," said Jethro. + +"Mr. Bass, I love her. I have told her so, and I have asked her to be my +wife." + +There was no need, indeed, to have told Jethro this. The shock of that +revelation had come to him when he had seen the trotters, had been +confirmed when the young man had stood before the portrait. Jethro's +face might have twitched when Bob stood there with his back to him. + +Jethro could not speak. Once more there had come to him a moment when he +would not trust his voice to ask a question. He dreaded the answer, +though none might have surmised this. He knew Cynthia. He knew that, +when she had given her heart, it was for all time. He dreaded the +answer; because it might mean that her sorrow was doubled. + +"I believe," Bob continued painfully, seeing that Jethro would say +nothing, "I believe that Cynthia loves me. I should not dare to say it +or to hope it, without reason. She has not said so, but--" the words +were very hard for him, yet he stuck manfully to the truth; "but she told +me to write to my father and let him know what I had done, and not to +come back to her until I had his answer. This," he added, wondering that +a man could listen to such a thing without a sign, "this was before-- +before she had any idea of coming home." + +Yes, Cynthia, did love him. There was no doubt about it in Jethro's +mind. She would not have bade Bob write to his father if she had not +loved him. Still Jethro did not speak, but by some intangible force +compelled Bob to go on. + +"I shall write to my father as soon as he comes back from the West, but I +wish to say to you, Mr. Bass, that whatever his answer contains, I mean +to marry Cynthia. Nothing can shake me from that resolution. I tell you +this because my father is fighting you, and you know what he will say." +(Jethro knew Dudley Worthington well enough to appreciate that this would +make no particular difference in his opposition to the marriage except to +make that opposition more vehement.) "And because you do not know me," +continued Bob. "When I say a thing, I mean it. Even if my father cuts +me off and casts me out, I will marry Cynthia. Good-by, Mr. Bass." + +Jethro took the young man's hand again. Bob imagined that he even +pressed it--a little--something he had never done before. + +"Good-by, Bob." + +Bob got as far as the door. + +"Er--go back to Harvard, Bob?" + +"I intend to, Mr. Bass." + +"Er--Bob?" + +"Yes?" + +"D-don't quarrel with your father--don't quarrel with your father." + +"I shan't be the one to quarrel, Mr. Bass." + +"Bob--hain't you pretty young--pretty young?" + +"Yes," said Bob, rather unexpectedly, "I am." Then he added, "I know my +own mind." + +"P-pretty young. Don't want to get married yet awhile--do you?" + +"Yes, I do," said Bob, "but I suppose I shan't be able to." + +"Er--wait awhile, Bob. Go back to Harvard. W-wouldn't write that letter +if I was you." + +"But I will. I'll not have him think I'm ashamed of what I've done. I'm +proud of it, Mr. Bass." + +In the eyes of Coniston, which had been waiting for his reappearance, Bob +Worthington jumped into the sleigh and drove off. He left behind him +Jethro Bass, who sat in his chair the rest of the morning with his head +bent in revery so deep that Millicent had to call him twice to his simple +dinner. Bob left behind him, too, a score of rumors, sprung full grown +into life with his visit. Men and women an incredible distance away +heard them in an incredible time: those in the village found an immediate +pretext for leaving their legitimate occupation and going to the store, +and a gathering was in session there when young Mr. Worthington drove +past it on his way back. Bob thought little about the rumors, and not +thinking of them it did not occur to him that they might affect Cynthia. +The only person then in Coniston whom he thought about was Jethro Bass. +Bob decided that his liking for Jethro had not diminished, but rather +increased; he admired Jethro for the advice he had given, although he did +not mean to take it. And for the first time he pitied him. + +Bob did not know that rumor, too, was spreading in Brampton. He had his +dinner in the big walnut dining room all alone, and after it he smoked +his father's cigars and paced up and down the big hall, watching the +clock. For he could not go to her in the school hours. At length he put +on his hat and hurried out, crossing the park-like enclosure in the +middle of the street; bowed at by Mr. Dodd, who always seemed to be on +hand, and others, and nodding absently in return. Concealment was not in +Bob Worthington's nature. He reached the post-office, where the +partition door was open, and he walked right into a comparatively full +meeting of the Brampton Club. Ephraim sat in their midst, and for once +he was not telling war stories. He was silent. And the others fell +suddenly silent, too, at Bob's entrance. + +"How do you do, Mr. Prescott?" he said, as Ephraim struggled to his feet. +"How is the rheumatism?" + +"How be you, Mr. Worthington?" said Ephraim; "this is a kind of a +surprise, hain't it?" Ephraim was getting used to surprises. "Well, it +is good-natured of you to come in and shake hands with an old soldier." + +"Don't mention it, Mr. Prescott," answered honest Bob, a little abashed, +"I should have done so anyway, but the fact is, I wanted to speak to you +a moment in private." + +"Certain," said Ephraim, glancing helplessly around him, "jest come out +front." That space, where the public were supposed to be, was the only +private place in the Brampton post-office. But the members of the +Brampton Club could take a hint, and with one consent began to make +excuses. Bob knew them all from boyhood and spoke to them all. Some of +them ventured to ask him if Harvard had bust up. + +"Where does Cynthia-live?" he demanded, coming straight to the point. + +Ephraim stared at him for a moment in a bewildered fashion, and then a +light began to dawn on him. + +"Lives with me," he answered. He was quite as ashamed, for Bob's sake, +as if he himself had asked the question, and he went on talking to cover +that embarrassment. "It's made some difference, too, sence she come. +House looks like a different place. Afore she, come I cooked with a kit, +same as I used to in the harness shop. I l'arned it in the army. +Cynthy's got a stove." + +It was not the way Ephraim would have gone about a love affair, had he +had one. Sam Price's were the approved methods in that section of the +country, though Sam had overdone them somewhat. It was an unheard-of +thing to ask a man right out like that where a girl lived. + +"Much obliged," said Bob, and was gone. Ephraim raised his hands in +despair, and hobbled to the little window to get a last look at him. +Where were the proprieties in these days? The other aspect of the +affair, what Mr. Worthington would think of it when he returned, did not +occur to the innocent mind of the old soldier until people began to talk +about it that afternoon. Then it worried him into another attack of +rheumatism. + +Half of Brampton must have seen Bob Worthington march up to the little +yellow house which Ephraim had rented from John Billings. It had four +rooms around the big chimney in the middle, and that was all. Simple as +it was, an architect would have said that its proportions were nearly +perfect. John Billings had it from his Grandfather Post, who built it, +and though Brampton would have laughed at the statement, Isaac D. +Worthington's mansion was not to be compared with it for beauty. The old +cherry furniture was still in it, and the old wall papers and the +panelling in the little room to the right which Cynthia had made into a +sitting room. + +Half of Brampton, too, must have seen Cynthia open the door and Bob walk +into the entry. Then the door was shut. But it had been held open for +an appreciable time, however,--while you could count twenty,--because +Cynthia had not the power to close it. For a while she could only look +into his eyes, and he into hers. She had not seen him coming, she had +but answered the knock. Then, slowly, the color came into her cheeks, +and she knew that she was trembling from head to foot. + +"Cynthia," he said, "mayn't I come in?" + +She did not answer, for fear her voice would tremble, too. And she could +not send him away in the face of all Brampton. She opened the door a +little wider, a very little, and he went in. Then she closed it, and for +a moment they stood facing each other in the entry, which was lighted +only by the fan-light over the door, Cynthia with her back against the +wall. He spoke her name again, his voice thick with the passion which +had overtaken him like a flood at the sight of her--a passion to seize +her in his arms, and cherish and comfort and protect her forever and +ever. All this he felt and more as he looked into her face and saw the +traces of her great sorrow there. He had not thought that that face +could be more beautiful in its strength and purity, but it was even so. + +"Cynthia-my love!" he cried, and raised his arms. But a look as of a +great fear came into her eyes, which for one exquisite moment had yielded +to his own; and her breath came quickly, as though she were spent--as +indeed she was. So far spent that the wall at her back was grateful. + +"No!" she said; "no--you must not--you must not--you must not!" Again and +again she repeated the words, for she could summon no others. They were +a mandate--had he guessed it--to herself as to him. For the time her +brain refused its functions, and she could think of nothing but the fact +that he was there, beside her, ready to take her in his arms. How she +longed to fly into them, none but herself knew--to fly into them as into +a refuge secure against the evil powers of the world. It was not reason +that restrained her then, but something higher in her, that restrained +him likewise. Without moving from the wall she pushed open the door of +the sitting room. + +"Go in there," she said. + +He went in as she bade him and stood before the flickering logs in the +wide and shallow chimney-place--logs that seemed to burn on the very +hearth itself, and yet the smoke rose unerring into the flue. No stove +had ever desecrated that room. Bob looked into the flames and waited, +and Cynthia stood in the entry fighting this second great battle which +had come upon her while her forces were still spent with that other one. +Woman in her very nature is created to be sheltered and protected; and +the yearning in her, when her love is given, is intense as nature itself +to seek sanctuary in that love. So it was with Cynthia leaning against +the entry wall, her arms full length in front of her, and her hands +clasped as she prayed for strength to withstand the temptation. At last +she grew calmer, though her breath still came deeply, and she went into +the sitting room. + +Perhaps he knew, vaguely, why she had not followed him at once. He had +grown calmer himself, calmer with that desperation which comes to a man +of his type when his soul and body are burning with desire for a woman. +He knew that he would have to fight for her with herself. He knew now +that she was too strong in her position to be carried by storm, and the +interval had given him time to collect himself. He did not dare at first +to look up from the logs, for fear he should forget himself and be +defeated instantly. + +"I have been to Coniston, Cynthia," he said. + +"Yes." + +"I have been to Coniston this morning, and I have seen Mr. Bass, and I +have told him that I love you, and that I will never give you up. I told +you so in Boston, Cynthia," he said; "I knew that this this trouble would +come to you. I would have given my life to have saved you from it--from +the least part of it. I would have given my life to have been able to +say 'it shall not touch you.' I saw it flowing in like a great sea +between you and me, and yet I could not tell you of it. I could not +prepare you for it. I could only tell you that I would never give you +up, and I can only repeat that now." + +"You must, Bob," she answered, in a voice so low that it was almost a +whisper; "you must give me up." + +"I would not," he said, "I would not if the words were written on all the +rocks of Coniston Mountain. I love you." + +"Hush," she said gently. "I have to say some things to you. They will +be very hard to say, but you must listen to them." + +"I will listen," he said doggedly; "but they will not affect my +determination." + +"I am sure you do not wish to drive me away from Brampton," she +continued, in the same low voice, "when I have found a place to earn my +living near-near Uncle Jethro." + +These words told him all he had suspected--almost as much as though he +had been present at the scene in the tannery shed in Coniston. She knew +now the life of Jethro Bass, but he was still "Uncle Jethro" to her. It +was even as Bob had supposed,--that her affection once given could not be +taken away. + +"Cynthia," he said, "I would not by an act or a word annoy or trouble +you. If you bade me, I would go to the other side of the world to- +morrow. You must know that. But I should come back again. You must +know, that, too. I should come back again for you." + +"Bob," she said again, and her voice faltered a very little now, "you +must know that I can never be your wife." + +"I do not know it," he exclaimed, interrupting her vehemently, "I will +not know it." + +"Think," she said, "think! I must say what I, have to say, however it +hurts me. If it had not been for--for your father, those things never +would have been written. They were in his newspaper, and they express +his feelings toward--toward Uncle Jethro." + +Once the words were out, she marvelled that she had found the courage to +pronounce them. + +"Yes," he said, "yes, I know that, but listen--" + +"Wait," she went on, "wait until I have finished. I am not speaking of +the pain I had when I read these things, I--I am not speaking of the +truth that may be in them--I have learned from them what I should have +known before, and felt, indeed, that your father will never consent to-- +to a marriage between us." + +"And if he does not," cried Bob, "if he does not, do you think that I +will abide by what he says, when my life's happiness depends upon you, +and my life's welfare? I know that you are a good woman, and a true +woman, that you will be the best wife any man could have. Though he is +my father, he shall not deprive me of my soul, and he shall not take my +life away from me." + +As Cynthia listened she thought that never had words sounded sweeter than +these--no, and never would again. So she told herself as she let them +run into her heart to be stored among the treasures there. She believed +in his love--believed in it now with all her might. (Who, indeed, would +not?) She could not demean herself now by striving to belittle it or +doubt its continuance, as she had in Boston. He was young, yes; but he +would never be any older than this, could never love again like this. So +much was given her, ought she not to be content? Could she expect more? + +She understood Isaac Worthington, now, as well as his son understood him. +She knew that, if she were to yield to Bob Worthington, his father would +disown and disinherit him. She looked ahead into the years as a woman +will, and allowed herself for the briefest of moments to wonder whether +any happiness could thrive in spite of the violence of that schism--any +happiness for him. She would be depriving him of his birthright, and it +may be that those who are born without birthrights often value them the +most. Cynthia saw these things, and more, for those who sit at the feet +of sorrow soon learn the world's ways. She saw herself pointed out as +the woman whose designs had beggared and ruined him in his youth, and +(agonizing and revolting thought!) the name of one would be spoken from +whom she had learned such craft. Lest he see the scalding tears in her +eyes, she turned away and conquered them. What could she do? Where +should she hide her love that it might not be seen of men? And how, in +truth, could she tell him these things? + +"Cynthia," he went on, seeing that she did not answer, and taking heart, +"I will not say a word against my father. I know you would not respect +me if I did. We are different, he and I, and find happiness in different +ways." Bob wondered if his father had ever found it. "If I had never +met you and loved you, I should have refused to lead the life my father +wishes me to lead. It is not in me to do the things he will ask. I +shall have to carve out my own life, and I feel that I am as well able to +do it as he was. Percy Broke, a classmate of mine and my best friend, +has a position for me in a locomotive works in which his father is +largely interested. We are going in together, the day after we +graduate; it is all arranged, and his father has agreed. I shall work +very hard, and in a few years, Cynthia, we shall be together, never to +part again. Oh, Cynthia," he cried, carried away by the ecstasy of this +dream which he had, summoned up, "why do you resist me? I love you as no +man has ever loved," he exclaimed, with scornful egotism and contempt of +those who had made the world echo with that cry through the centuries, +"and you love me! Ah, do you think I do not see it--cannot feel it? You +love me--tell me so." + +He was coming toward her, and how was she to prevent his taking her by +storm? That was his way, and well she knew it. In her dreams she had +felt herself lifted and borne off, breathless in his arms, to Elysium. +Her breath was going now, her strength was going, and yet she made him +pause by the magic of a word. A concession was in that word, but one +could not struggle so piteously and concede nothing. + +"Bob," she said, "do you love me?" + +Love her! If there was a love that acknowledged no bounds, that was +confined by no superlatives, it was his. He began to speak, but she +interrupted him with a wild passion that was new to her. As he sat in +the train on his way back to Cambridge through the darkening afternoon, +the note of it rang in his ears and gave him hope--yes, and through many +months afterward. + +"If you love me I beg, I implore, I beseech you in the name of that love +--for your, sake and my sake, to leave me. Oh, can you not see why you +must go?" + +He stopped, even as he had before in the parlor in Mount Vernon Street. +He could but stop in the face of such an appeal--and yet the blood beat +in his head with a mad joy. + +"Tell me that you love me,--once," he cried,--"once, Cynthia." + +"Do-do not ask me," she faltered. "Go." + +Her words were a supplication, not a command. And in that they were a +supplication he had gained a victory. Yes, though she had striven with +all her might to deny, she had bade him hope. He left her without so +much as a touch of the hand, because she had wished it. And yet she +loved him! Incredible fact! Incredible conjury which made him doubt +that his feet touched the snow of Brampton Street, which blotted, as with +a golden glow, the faces and the houses of Brampton from his sight. He +saw no one, though many might have accosted him. That part of him which +was clay, which performed the menial tasks of his being, had kindly taken +upon itself to fetch his bag from the house to the station, and to board +the train. + +Ah, but Brampton had seen him! + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Great events, like young Mr. Worthington's visit to Brampton, are all +very well for a while, but they do not always develop with sufficient +rapidity to satisfy the audiences of the drama. Seven days were an +interlude quite long enough in which to discuss every phase and bearing +of this opening scene, and after that the play in all justice ought to +move on. But there it halted--for a while--and the curtain obstinately +refused to come up. If the inhabitants of Brampton had only known that +the drama, when it came, would be well worth waiting for, they might have +been less restless. + +It is unnecessary to enrich the pages of this folio with all the +footnotes and remarks of, the sages of Brampton. These can be condensed +into a paragraph of two--and we can ring up the curtain when we like on +the next scene, for which Brampton had to wait considerably over a month. +There is to be no villain in this drama with the face of an Abbe Maury +like the seven cardinal sins. Comfortable looking Mr. Dodd of the +prudential committee, with his chin-tuft of yellow beard, is cast for the +part of the villain, but will play it badly; he would have been better +suited to a comedy part. + +Young Mr. Worthington left Brampton on the five o'clock train, and at six +Mr. Dodd met his fellow-member of the committee, Judge Graves. + +"Called a meetin'?" asked Mr. Dodd, pulling the yellow tuft. + +"What for?" said the judge, sharply. + +"What be you a-goin' to do about it?" said Mr. Dodd. + +"Do about what?" demanded the judge, looking at the hardware dealer from +under his eyebrows. + +Mr. Dodd knew well enough that this was not ignorance on the part of Mr. +Graves, whose position in the matter dad been very well defined in the +two sentences he had spoken. Mr. Dodd perceived that the judge was +trying to get him to commit himself, and would then proceed to annihilate +him. He, Levi Dodd, had no intention of walking into such a trap. + +"Well," said he, with a final tug at the tuft, "if that's the way you +feel about it." + +"Feel about what?" said the judge, fiercely. + +"Callate you know best," said Mr. Dodd, and passed on up the street. But +he felt the judge's gimlet eyes boring holes in his back. The judge's +position was very fine, no doubt for the judge. All of which tends to +show that Levi Dodd had swept his mind, and that it was ready now for the +reception of an opinion. + +Six weeks or more, as has been said, passed before the curtain rose +again, but the snarling trumpets of the orchestra played a fitting +prelude. Cynthia's feelings and Cynthia's life need not be gone into +during this interval knowing her character, they may well be imagined. +They were trying enough, but Brampton had no means of guessing them. +During the weeks she came and went between the little house and the +little school, putting all the strength that was in her into her duties. +The Prudential Committee, which sometimes sat on the platform, could find +no fault with the performance of these duties, or with the capability of +the teacher, and it is not going too far to state that the children grew +to love her better than Miss Goddard had been loved. It may be declared +that children are the fittest citizens of a republic, because they are +apt to make up their own minds on any subject without regard to public +opinion. It was so with the scholars of Brampton village lower school: +they grew to love the new teacher, careless of what the attitude of their +elders might be, and some of them could have been seen almost any day +walking home with her down the street. + +As for the attitude of the elders--there was none. Before assuming one +they had thought it best, with characteristic caution, to await the next +act in the drama. There were ladies in Brampton whose hearts prompted +them, when they called on the new teacher, to speak a kindly word of +warning and advice; but somehow, when they were seated before her in the +little sitting room of the John Billings house, their courage failed +them. There was something about this daughter of the Coniston +storekeeper and ward of Jethro Bass that made them pause. So much for +the ladies of Brampton. What they said among themselves would fill a +chapter, and more. + +There was, at this time, a singular falling-off in the attendance of the +Brampton Club. Ephraim sat alone most of the day in his Windsor chair by +the stove, pretending to read newspapers. But he did not mention this +fact to Cynthia. He was more lonesome than ever on the Saturdays and +Sundays which she spent with Jethro Bass. + +Jethro Bass! It is he who might be made the theme of the music of the +snarling trumpets. What was he about during those six weeks? That is +what the state at large was beginning to wonder, and the state at large +was looking on at a drama, too. A rumor reached the capital and radiated +thence to every city and town and hamlet, and was followed by other +rumors like confirmations. Jethro Bass, for the first time in a long +life of activity, was inactive: inactive, too, at this most critical +period of his career, the climax of it, with a war to be waged which for +bitterness and ferocity would have no precedent; with the town meetings +at hand, where the frontier fighting was to be done, and no quarter +given. Lieutenants had gone to Coniston for further orders and +instructions, and had come back without either. Achilles was sulking in +the tannery house--some said a broken Achilles. Not a word could be got +out of him, or the sign of an intention. Jake Wheeler moped through the +days in Rias Richardson's store, too sore at heart to speak to any man, +and could have wept if tears had been a relief to him. No more blithe +errands over the mountain to Clovelly and elsewhere, though Jake knew the +issue now and itched for the battle, and the vassals of the hill-Rajah +under a jubilant Bijah Bixby were arming cap-a-pie. Lieutenant-General- +and-Senator Peleg Hartington of Brampton, in his office over the livery +stable, shook his head like a mournful stork when questioned by brother +officers from afar. Operations were at a standstill, and the sinews of +war relaxed. Rural givers of mortgages, who had not had the opportunity +of selling them or had feared to do so, began (mirabile dictu) to express +opinions. Most ominous sign of all--the proprietor of the Pelican Hotel +had confessed that the Throne Room had not been engaged for the coming +session. + +Was it possible that Jethro Bass lay crushed under the weight of the +accusations which had been printed, and were still being printed, in the +Newcastle Guardian? He did not answer them, or retaliate in other +newspapers, but Jethro Bass had never made use of newspapers in this way. +Still, nothing ever printed about him could be compared with those +articles. Had remorse suddenly overtaken him in his old age? Such were +the questions people we're asking all over the state--people, at least, +who were interested in politics, or in those operations which went by the +name of politics: yes, and many private citizens--who had participated in +politics only to the extent of voting for such candidates as Jethro in +his wisdom had seen fit to give them, read the articles and began to say +that boss domination was at an end. A new era was at hand, which they +fondly (and very properly) believed was to be a golden era. It was, +indeed, to be a golden era--until things got working; and then the gold +would cease. The Newcastle Guardian, with unconscious irony, proclaimed +the golden era; and declared that its columns, even in other days and +under other ownership, had upheld the wisdom of Jethro Bass. And he was +still a wise man, said the Guardian, for he had had sense enough to give +up the fight. + +Had he given up the fight? Cynthia fervently hoped and prayed that he +had, but she hoped and prayed in silence. Well she knew, if the event in +the tannery shed had not made him abandon his affairs, no appeal could do +so. Her happiest days in this period were the Saturdays and Sundays +spent with him in Coniston, and as the weeks went by she began to believe +that the change, miraculous as it seemed, had indeed taken place. He had +given up his power. It was a pleasure that made the weeks bearable for +her. What did it matter--whether he had made the sacrifice for the sake +of his love for her? He had made it. + +On these Saturdays and Sundays they went on long drives together over the +hills, while she talked to him of her life in Brampton or the books she +was reading, and of those she had chosen for him to read. Sometimes they +did not turn homeward until the delicate tracery of the branches on the +snow warned them of the rising moon. Jethro was often silent for hours +at a time, but it seemed to Cynthia that it was the silence of peace--of +a peace he had never known before. There came no newspapers to the +tannery house now: during the mid-week he read the books of which she had +spoken William Wetherell's books; or sat in thought, counting, perhaps; +the days until she should come again. And the boy of those days for him +was more pathetic than much that is known to the world as sorrow. + +And what did Coniston think? Coniston, indeed, knew not what to think, +when, little by little, the great men ceased to drive up to the door of +the tannery house, and presently came no more. Coniston sank then from +its proud position as the real capital of the state to a lonely hamlet +among the hills. Coniston, too, was watching the drama, and had had a +better view of the stage than Brampton, and saw some reason presently for +the change in Jethro Bass. Not that Mr. Satterlee told, but such +evidence was bound, in the end, to speak for itself. The Newcastle +Guardian had been read and debated at the store--debated with some heat +by Chester Perkins and other mortgagors; discussed, nevertheless, in a +political rather than a moral light. Then Cynthia had returned home; her +face had awed them by its sorrow, and she had begun to earn her own +living. Then the politicians had ceased to come. The credit belongs to +Rias Richardson for hawing been the first to piece these three facts +together, causing him to burn his hand so severely on the stove that he +had to carry it bandaged in soda for a week. Cynthia Wetherell had +reformed Jethro. + +Though the village loved and revered Cynthia, Coniston as a whole did not +rejoice in that reform. The town had fallen from its mighty estate, and +there were certain envious ones who whispered that it had remained for a +young girl who had learned city ways to twist Jethro around her finger; +that she had made him abandon his fight with Isaac D. Worthington because +Mr. Worthington had a son--but there is no use writing such scandal. +Stripped of his power--even though he stripped himself--Jethro began to +lose their respect, a trait tending to prove that the human race may have +had wolves for ancestors as well as apes. People had small opportunity, +however, of showing a lack of respect to his person, for in these days he +noticed no one and spoke to none. + +When the lion is crippled, the jackals begin to range. A jackal +reconnoitered the lair to see how badly the lion was crippled, and +conceived with astounding insolence the plan of capturing the lion's +quarry. This jackal, who was an old one, well knew how to round up a +quarry, and fled back over the hills to consult with a bigger jackal, his +master. As a result, two days before March town-meeting day, Mr. Bijah +Bixby paid a visit to the Harwich bank and went among certain Coniston +farmers looking over the sheep, his clothes bulging out in places when he +began, and seemingly normal enough when he had finished. History repeats +itself, even among lions and jackals. Thirty-six years before there had +been a town-meeting in Coniston and a surprise. Established Church, +decent and orderly selectmen and proceedings had been toppled over that +day, every outlying farm sending its representative through the sleet to +do it. And now retribution was at hand. This March-meeting day was +mild, the grass showing a green color on the south slopes where the snow +had melted, and the outlying farmers drove through mud-holes up to the +axles. Drove, albeit, in procession along the roads, grimly enough, and +the sheds Jock Hallowell had built around the meeting-house could not +hold the horses; they lined the fences and usurped the hitching posts of +the village street, and still they came. Their owners trooped with muddy +boots into the meeting-house, and when the moderator rapped for order the +Chairman of the Board of Selectmen, Jethro Bass, was not in his place; +never, indeed, would be there again. Six and thirty years he had been +supreme in that town--long enough for any man. The beams and king posts +would know him no more. Mr. Amos Cuthbert was elected Chairman, not +without a gallant and desperate but unsupported fight of a minority led +by Mr. Jake Wheeler, whose loyalty must be taken as a tribute to his +species. Farmer Cuthbert was elected, and his mortgage was not +foreclosed! Had it been, there was more money in the Harwich bank. + +There was no telegraph to Coniston in these days, and so Mr. Sam Price, +with his horse in a lather, might have been seen driving with unseemly +haste toward Brampton, where in due time he arrived. Half an hour later +there was excitement at Newcastle, sixty-five miles away, in the office +of the Guardian, and the next morning the excitement had spread over the +whole state. + +Jethro Bass was dethroned in Coniston--discredited in his own town! + +And where was Jethro? Did his heart ache, did he bow his head as he +thought of that supremacy, so hardly won, so superbly held, gone forever? +Many were the curious eyes on the tannery house that day, and for days +after, but its owner gave no signs of concern. He read and thought and +chopped wood in the tannery shed as usual. Never, I believe, did man, +shorn of power, accept his lot more quietly. His struggle was over, his +battle was fought, a greater peace than he had ever thought to hope for +was won. For the opinion and regard of the world he had never cared. A +greater reward awaited him, greater than any knew--the opinion and regard +and the praise of one whom he loved beyond all the world. On Friday she +came to him, on Friday at sunset, for the days were growing longer, and +that was the happiest sunset of his life. She said nothing as she raised +her face to his and kissed him and clung to him in the little parlor, but +he knew, and he had his reward. So much for earthly power Cynthia +brought the little rawhide trunk this time, and came to Coniston for the +March vacation--a happy two weeks that was soon gone. Happy by +comparison, that is, with what they both had suffered, and a haven of +rest after the struggle and despair of the wilderness. The bond between +them had, in truth, never been stronger, for both the young girl and the +old man had denied themselves the thing they held most dear. Jethro had +taken refuge and found comfort in his love. But Cynthia! Her greatest +love had now been bestowed elsewhere. + +If there were letters for the tannery house, Milly Skinner, who made it a +point to meet the stage, brought them. And there were letters during +Cynthia's sojourn,--many of them, bearing the Cambridge postmark. One +evening it was Jethro who laid the letter on the table beside her as she +sat under the lamp. He did not look at her or speak, but she felt that +he knew her secret--felt that he deserved to have from her own lips what +he had been too proud--yes--and too humble to ask. Whose sympathy could +she be sure of, if not of his? Still she had longed to keep this +treasure to herself. She took the letter in her hand. + +"I do not answer them, Uncle Jethro, but--I cannot prevent his writing +them," she faltered. She did not confess that she kept them, every one, +and read them over and over again; that she had grown, indeed, to look +forward to them as to a sustenance. "I--I do love him, but I will not +marry him." + +Yes, she could be sure of Jethro's sympathy, though he could not express +it in words. Yet she had not told him for this. She had told him, much +as the telling had hurt her, because she feared to cut him more deeply by +her silence. + +It was a terrible moment for Jethro, and never had he desired the gift of +speech as now. Had it not been for him; Cynthia might have been Robert +Worthington's wife. He sat down beside her and put his hand over hers +that lay on the letter in her lap. It was the only answer he could make, +but perhaps it was the best, after all. Of what use were words at such a +time! + +Four days afterward, on a Monday morning, she went back to Brampton to +begin the new term. + +That same Monday a circumstance of no small importance took place in +Brampton--nothing less than the return, after a prolonged absence in the +West and elsewhere, of its first citizen. Isaac D. Worthington was again +in residence. No bells were rung, indeed, and no delegation of citizens +as such, headed by the selectmen, met him at the station; and other +feudal expressions of fealty were lacking. No staff flew Mr. +Worthington's arms; nevertheless the lord of Brampton was in his castle +again, and Brampton felt that he was there. He arrived alone, wearing +the silk hat which had become habitual with him now, and stepping into +his barouche at the station had been driven up Brampton Street behind his +grays, looking neither to the right nor left. His reddish chop whiskers +seemed to cling a little more closely to his face than formerly, and long +years of compression made his mouth look sterner than ever. A hawk-like +man, Isaac Worthington, to be reckoned with and feared, whether in a +frock coat or in breastplate and mail. + +His seneschal, Mr. Flint, was awaiting him in the library. Mr. Flint was +large and very ugly, big-boned, smooth-shaven, with coarse features all +askew, and a large nose with many excrescences, and thick lips. He was +forty-two. From a foreman of the mills he had risen, step by step, to +his present position, which no one seemed able to define. He was, +indeed, a seneschal. He managed the mills in his lord's absence, and--if +the truth be told--in his presence; knotty questions of the Truro +Railroad were brought to Mr. Flint and submitted to Mr. Worthington, who +decided them, with Mr. Flint's advice; and, within the last three months, +Mr. Flint had invaded the realm of politics, quietly, as such a man +would, under the cover of his patron's name and glory. Mr. Flint it was +who had bought the Newcastle Guardian, who went occasionally to Newcastle +and spoke a few effective words now and then to the editor; and, if the +truth will out, Mr. Flint had largely conceived that scheme about the +railroads which was to set Mr. Worthington on the throne of the state, +although the scheme was not now being carried out according to Mr. +Flint's wishes. Mr. Flint was, in a sense, a Bismarck, but he was not as +yet all powerful. Sometimes his august master or one of his fellow petty +sovereigns would sweep Mr. Flint's plans into the waste basket, and then +Mr. Flint would be content to wait. To complete the character sketch, +Mr. Flint was not above hanging up his master's hat and coat, Which he +did upon the present occasion, and went up to Mr. Worthington's bedroom +to fetch a pocket handkerchief out of the second drawer. He even knew +where the handkerchiefs were kept. Lucky petty sovereigns sometimes +possess Mr. Flints to make them emperors. + +The august personage seated himself briskly at his desk. + +"So that scoundrel Bass is actually discredited at last," he said, +blowing his nose in the pocket handkerchief Mr. Flint had brought him. +"I lose patience when I think how long we've stood the rascal in this +state. I knew the people would rise in their indignation when they +learned the truth about him." + +Mr. Flint did not answer this. He might have had other views. + +"I wonder we did not think of it before," Mr. Worthington continued. "A +very simple remedy, and only requiring a little courage and--and--" (Mr. +Worthington was going to say money, but thought better of it) "and the +chimera disappears. I congratulate you, Flint." + +"Congratulate yourself," said Mr. Flint; "that would not have been my +way." + +"Very well, I congratulate myself," said the august personage, who was in +too good a humor to be put out by the rejection of a compliment. "You +remember what I said: the time was ripe, just publish a few biographical +articles telling people what he was, and Jethro Bass would snuff out like +a candle. Mr. Duncan tells me the town-meeting results are very good all +over the state. Even if we hadn't knocked out Jethro Bass, we'd have a +fair majority for our bill in the next legislature." + +"You know Bass's saying," answered Mr. Flint, "You can hitch that kind of +a hoss, but they won't always stay hitched." + +"I know, I know," said Mr. Worthington; "don't croak, Flint. We can buy +more hitch ropes, if necessary. Well, what's the outlay up to the +present? Large, I suppose. Well, whatever it is, it's small compared to +what we'll get for it." He laughed a little and rubbed his hands, and +then he remembered that capacity in which he stood before the world. +Yes, and he stood before himself in the same capacity. Isaac Worthington +may have deceived himself, but he may or may not have been a hero to his +seneschal. "We have to fight fire with fire," he added, in a pained +voice. "Let me see the account." + +"I have tabulated the expense in the different cities and towns," +answered Mr. Flint; "I will show you the account in a little while. The +expenses in Coniston were somewhat greater than the size of the town +justified, perhaps. But Sutton thought--" + +"Yes, yes," interrupted Mr. Worthington, "if it had cost as much to carry +Coniston as Newcastle, it would have been worth it--for the moral effect +alone." + +Moral effect! Mr. Flint thought of Mr. Bixby with his bulging pockets +going about the hills, and smiled at the manner in which moral effects +are sometimes obtained. + +"Any news, Flint?" + +No news yet, Mr. Flint might have answered. In a few minutes there might +be news, and plenty of it, for it lay ready to be hatched under Mr. +Worthington's eye. A letter in the bold and upright hand of his son was +on the top of the pile, placed there by Mr. Flint himself, who had +examined Mr. Worthington's face closely when he came in to see how much +he might know of its contents. He had decided that Mr. Worthington was +in too good a humor to know anything of them. Mr. Flint had not steamed +the letter open, and read the news; but he could guess at them pretty +shrewdly, and so could have the biggest fool in Brampton. That letter +contained the opening scene of the next act in the drama. + +Mr. Worthington cut the envelope and began to read, and while he did so +Mr. Flint, who was not afraid of man or beast, looked at him. It was a +manly and straight forward letter, and Mr. Worthington, no matter what +his opinions on the subject were, should have been proud of it. Bob +announced, first of all, that he was going to marry Cynthia Wetherell; +then he proceeded with praiseworthy self-control (for a lover) to +describe Cynthia's character and attainments: after which he stated that +Cynthia had refused him--twice, because she believed that Mr. Worthington +would oppose the marriage, and had declared that she would never be the +cause of a breach between father and son. Bob asked for his father's +consent, and hoped to have it, but he thought it only right to add that +he had given his word and his love, and did not mean to retract either. +He spoke of his visit to Brampton, and explained that Cynthia was +teaching school there, and urged his father to see her before he made a +decision. Mr. Worthington read it through to the end, his lips closing +tighter and tighter until his mouth was but a line across his face. +There was pain in the face, too, the kind of pain which anger sends, and +which comes with the tottering of a pride that is false. Of what +gratification now was the overthrow of Jethro Bass? + +He stared at the letter for a moment after he had finished it, and his +face grew a dark red. Then he seized the paper and tore it slowly, +deliberately, into bits. + +Dudley Worthington was not thinking then--not he!--of the young man in +the white beaver who had called at the Social Library many years before +to see a young woman whose name, too, had been Cynthia.--He was thinking, +in fact, for he was a man to think in anger, whether it were not possible +to remove this Cynthia from the face of the earth--at least to a place +beyond his horizon and that of his son. Had he worn the chain mail +instead of the frock coat he would have had her hung outside the town +walls. + +"Good God!" he exclaimed. And the words sounded profane indeed as he +fixed his eyes upon Mr. Flint. "You knew that Robert had been to +Brampton." + +"Yes," said Flint, "the whole village knew it." + +"Good God!" cried Mr. Worthington again, "why was I not informed of this? +Why was I not warned of this? Have I no friends? Do you pretend to look +after my interests and not take the trouble to write me on such a +subject." + +"Do you think I could have prevented it?" asked Mr. Flint, very calmly. + +"You allow this--this woman to come here to Brampton and teach school in +a place where she can further her designs? What were you about?" + +"When the prudential committee appointed her, nothing of this was known, +Mr. Worthington." + +"Yes, but now--now! What are you doing, what are they doing to allow her +to remain? Who are on that committee?" + +Mr. Flint named the men. They had been reelected, as usual, at the +recent town-meeting. Mr. Errol, who had also been reelected, had +returned but had not yet issued the certificate or conducted the +examination. + +"Send for them, have them here at once," commanded Mr. Worthington, +without listening to this. + +"If you take my advice, you will do nothing of the kind," said Mr. Flint, +who, as usual, had the whole situation at his fingers' ends. He had +taken the trouble to inform himself about the girl, and he had +discovered, shrewdly enough, that she was the kind which might be led, +but not driven. If Mr. Flint's advice had been listened to, this story +might have had quite a different ending. But Mr. Flint had not reached +the stage where his advice was always listened to, and he had a maddened +man to deal with now. At that moment, as if fate had determined to +intervene, the housemaid came into the room. + +"Mr. Dodd to see you, sir," she said. + +"Show him in," shouted Mr. Worthington; "show him in!" + +Mr. Dodd was not a man who could wait for a summons which he had felt in +his bones was coming. He was ordinarily, as we have seen, officious. +But now he was thoroughly frightened. He had seen the great man in the +barouche as he drove past the hardware store, and he had made up his mind +to go up at once, and have it over with. His opinions were formed now, +He put a smile on his face when he was a foot outside of the library +door. + +"This is a great pleasure, Mr. Worthington, a great pleasure, to see you +back," he said, coming forward. "I callated--" + +But the great man sat in his chair, and made no attempt to return the +greeting. + +"Mr. Dodd, I thought you were my friend," he said. + +Mr. Dodd went all to pieces at this reception. + +"So I be, Mr. Worthington--so I be," he cried. "That's why I'm here now. +I've b'en a friend of yours ever since I can remember--never fluctuated. +I'd rather have chopped my hand off than had this happen--so I would. If +I could have foreseen what she was, she'd never have had the place, as +sure as my name's Levi Dodd." + +If Mr. Dodd had taken the trouble to look at the seneschal's face, he +would have seen a well-defined sneer there. + +"And now that you know what she is," cried Mr. Worthington, rising and +smiting the pile of letters on his desk, "why do you keep her there an +instant?" + +Mr. Dodd stopped to pick up the letters, which had flown over the floor. +But the great man was now in the full tide of his anger. + +"Never mind the letters," he shouted; "tell me why you keep her there." + +"We callated we'd wait and see what steps you'd like taken," said the +trembling townsman. + +"Steps! Steps! Good God! What kind of man are you to serve in such a +place when you allow the professed ward of Jethro Bass--of Jethro Bass, +the most notoriously depraved man in this state, to teach the children of +this town. Steps! How soon can you call your committee together?" + +"Right away," answered Mr. Dodd, breathlessly. He would have gone on to +exculpate himself, but Mr. Worthington's inexorable finger was pointing +at the door. + +"If you are a friend of mine," said that gentleman, "and if you have any +regard for the fair name of this town, you will do so at once." + +Mr. Dodd departed precipitately, and Mr. Worthington began to pace the +room, clasping his hands now in front of him, now behind him, in his +agony: repeating now and again various appellations which need not be +printed here, which he applied in turn to the prudential committee, to +his son, and to Cynthia Wetherell. + +"I'll run her out of Brampton," he said at last. + +"If you do," said Mr. Flint, who had been watching him apparently +unmoved, "you may have Jethro Bass on your back." + +"Jethro Bass?" shouted Mr. Worthington, with a laugh that was not +pleasant to hear, "Jethro Bass is as dead as Julius Caesar." + +It was one thing for Mr. Dodd to promise so readily a meeting of the +committee, and quite another to decide how he was going to get through +the affair without any more burns and scratches than were absolutely +necessary. He had reversed the usual order, and had been in the fire-- +now he was going to the frying-pan. He stood in the street for some +time, pulling at his tuft, and then made his way to Mr. Jonathan Hill's +feed store. Mr. Hill was reading "Sartor Resartus" in his little office, +the temperature of which must have been 95, and Mr. Dodd was perspiring +when he got there. + +"It's come," said Mr. Dodd, sententiously. + +"What's come?" inquired Mr. Hill, mildly. + +"Isaac D.'s come, that's what," said Mr. Dodd. "I hain't b'en sleepin' +well of nights, lately. I can't think what we was about, Jonathan, +puttin' that girl in the school. We'd ought to've knowed she wahn't +fit." + +"What's the matter with her?" inquired Mr. Hill. + +"Matter with her!" exclaimed his fellow-committeeman, "she lives with +Jethro Bass--she's his ward." + +"Well, what of it?" said Mr. Hill, who never bothered himself about +gossip or newspapers, or indeed about anything not between the covers of +a book, except when he couldn't help it. + +"Good God!" exclaimed Mr. Dodd, "he's the most notorious, depraved man in +the state. Hain't we got to look out for the fair name of Brampton?" + +Mr. Hill sighed and closed his book. + +"Well," he said; "I'd hoped we were through with that. Let's go up and +see what Judge Graves says about it." + +"Hold on," said Mr. Dodd, seizing the feed dealer by the coat, "we've got +to get it fixed in our minds what we're goin' to do, first. We can't +allow no notorious people in our schools. We've got to stand up to the +jedge, and tell him so. We app'inted her on his recommendation, you +know." + +"I like the girl," replied Mr. Hill. "I don't think we ever had a better +teacher. She's quiet, and nice appearin', and attends to her business." + +Mr. Dodd pulled his tuft, and cocked his head. + +"Mr. Worthington holds a note of yours, don't he, Jonathan?" + +Mr. Hill reflected. He said he thought perhaps Mr. Worthington did. + +"Well," said Mr. Dodd, "I guess we might as well go along up to the jedge +now as any time." + +But when they got there Mr. Dodd's knock was so timid that he had to +repeat it before the judge came to the door and peered at them over his +spectacles. + +"Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?" he asked, severely, though he +knew well enough. He had not been taken by surprise many times during +the last forty years. Mr. Dodd explained that they wished a little +meeting of the committee. The judge ushered them into his bedroom, the +parlor being too good for such an occasion. + +"Now, gentlemen," said he, "let us get down to business. Mr. Worthington +arrived here to-day, he has seen Mr. Dodd, and Mr. Dodd has seen Mr. +Hill. Mr. Worthington is a political opponent of Jethro Bass, and wishes +Miss Wetherell dismissed. Mr. Dodd and Mr. Hill have agreed, for various +reasons which I will spare you, that Miss Wetherell should be dismissed. +Have I stated the case, gentlemen, or have I not?" + +Mr. Graves took off his spectacles and wiped them, looking from one to +the other of his very uncomfortable fellow-members. Mr. Hill did not +attempt to speak; but Mr. Dodd, who was not sure now that this was not +the fire and the other the frying-pan, pulled at his tuft until words +came to him. + +"Jedge," he said finally, "I must say I'm a mite surprised. I must say +your language is unwarranted." + +"The truth is never unwarranted," said the judge. + +"For the sake of the fair name of Brampton," began Mr. Dodd, "we cannot +allow--" + +"Mr. Dodd," interrupted the judge, "I would rather have Mr. Worthington's +arguments from Mr. Worthington himself, if I wanted them at all. There +is no need of prolonging this meeting. If I were to waste my breath +until six o'clock, it would be no use. I was about to say that your +opinions were formed, but I will alter that, and say that your minds are +fixed. You are determined to dismiss Miss Wetherell. Is it not so?" + +"I wish you'd hear me, Jedge," said Mr. Dodd, desperately. + +"Will you kindly answer me yes or no to that question," said the judge; +"my time is valuable." + +"Well, if you put it that way, I guess we are agreed that she hadn't +ought to stay. Not that I've anything against her personally--" + +"All right," said the judge, with a calmness that made them tremble. +They had never bearded him before. "All right, you are two to one and no +certificate has been issued. But I tell you this, gentlemen, that you +will live to see the day when you will bitterly regret this injustice to +an innocent and a noble woman, and Isaac D. Worthington will live to +regret it. You may tell him I said so. Good day, gentlemen." + +They rose. + +"Jedge," began Mr. Dodd again, "I don't think you've been quite fair with +us." + +"Fair!" repeated the judge, with unutterable scorn. "Good day, +gentlemen." And he slammed the door behind them. + +They walked down the street some distance before either of them spoke. + +"Goliah," said Mr. Dodd, at last, "did you ever hear such talk? He's got +the drattedest temper of any man I ever knew, and he never callates to +make a mistake. It's a little mite hard to do your duty when a man talks +that way." + +"I'm not sure we've done it," answered Mr. Hill. + +"Not sure!" ejaculated the hardware dealer, for he was now far enough +away from the judge's house to speak in his normal tone, "and she +connected with that depraved--" + +"Hold on," said Mr. Hill, with an astonishing amount of spirit for him, +"I've heard that before." + +Mr. Dodd looked at him, swallowed the wrong way and began to choke. + +"You hain't wavered, Jonathan?" he said, when he got his breath. + +"No, I haven't," said Mr. Hill, sadly; "but I wish to hell I had." + +Mr. Dodd looked at him again, and began to choke again. It was the first +time he had known Jonathan Hill to swear. + +"You're a-goin' to stick by what you agreed--by your principles?" + +"I'm going to stick by my bread and butter," said Mr. Hill, "not by my +principles. I wish to hell I wasn't." + +And so saying that gentleman departed, cutting diagonally across the +street through the snow, leaving Mr. Dodd still choking and pulling at +his tuft. This third and totally-unexpected shaking-up had caused him to +feel somewhat deranged internally, though it had not altered the opinions +now so firmly planted in his head. After a few moments, however, he had +collected himself sufficiently to move on once more, when he discovered +that he was repeating to himself, quite unconsciously, Mr. Hill's +profanity "I wish to hell I wasn't." The iron mastiffs glaring at him +angrily out of the snow banks reminded him that he was in front of Mr. +Worthington's door, and he thought he might as well go in at once and +receive the great man's gratitude. He certainly deserved it. But as he +put his hand on the bell Mr. Worthington himself came out of the house, +and would actually have gone by without noticing Mr. Dodd if he had not +spoken. + +"I've got that little matter fixed, Mr. Worthington," he said, "called +the committee, and we voted to discharge the--the young woman." No, he +did not deliver Judge Graves's message. + +"Very well, Mr. Dodd," answered the great man, passing on so that Mr. +Dodd was obliged to follow him in order to hear, "I'm glad you've come to +your senses at last. Kindly step into the library and tell Miss Bruce +from me that she may fill the place to-morrow." + +"Certain," said Mr. Dodd, with his hand to his chin. He watched the +great man turn in at his bank in the new block, and then he did as he was +bid. + +By the time school was out that day the news had leaped across Brampton +Street and spread up and down both sides of it that the new teacher had +been dismissed. The story ran fairly straight--there were enough clews, +certainly. The great man's return, the visit of Mr. Dodd, the call on +Judge Graves, all had been marked. The fiat of the first citizen had +gone forth that the ward of Jethro Bass must be got rid of; the designing +young woman who had sought to entrap his son must be punished for her +amazing effrontery. + +Cynthia came out of school happily unaware that her name was on the lips +of Brampton: unaware, too, that the lord of the place had come into +residence that day. She had looked forward to living in the same town +with Bob's father as an evil which was necessary to be borne, as one of +the things which are more or less inevitable in the lives of those who +have to make their own ways in the world. The children trooped around +her, and the little girls held her hand, and she talked and laughed with +them as she came up the street in the eyes of Brampton,--came up the +street to the block of new buildings where the bank was. Stepping out of +the bank, with that businesslike alertness which characterized him, was +the first citizen--none other. He found himself entangled among the +romping children and--horror of horrors he bumped into the schoolmistress +herself! Worse than this, he had taken off his hat and begged her pardon +before he looked at her and realized the enormity of his mistake. And +the schoolmistress had actually paid no attention to him, but with merely +heightened color had drawn the children out of his way and passed on +without a word. The first citizen, raging inwardly, but trying to appear +unconcerned, walked rapidly back to his house. On the street of his own +town, before the eyes of men, he had been snubbed by a school-teacher. +And such a schoolteacher! + +Mr. Worthington, as he paced his library burning with the shame of this +occurrence, remembered that he had had to glance at her twice before it +came over him who she was. His first sensation had been astonishment. +And now, in spite of his bitter anger, he had to acknowledge that the +face had made an impression on him--a fact that only served to increase +his rage. A conviction grew upon him that it was a face which his son, +or any other man, would not be likely to forget. He himself could not +forget it. + +In the meantime Cynthia had reached her home, her cheeks still smarting, +conscious that people had stared at her. This much, of course, she knew +--that Brampton believed Bob Worthington to be in love with her: and the +knowledge at such times made her so miserable that the thought of +Jethro's isolation alone deterred her from asking Miss Lucretia Penniman +for a position in Boston. For she wrote to Miss Lucretia about her life +and her reading, as that lady had made her promise to do. She sat down +now at the cherry chest of drawers that was also a desk, to write: not to +pour out her troubles, for she never had done that,--but to calm her mind +by drawing little character sketches of her pupils. But she had only +written the words, "My dear Miss Lucretia," when she looked out of the +window and saw Judge Graves coming up the path, and ran to open the door +for him. + +"How do you do, Judge?" she said, for she recognized Mr. Graves as one of +her few friends in Brampton. "I have sent to Boston for the new reader, +but it has not come." + +The judge took her hand and pressed it and led her into the little +sitting room. His face was very stern, but his eyes, which had flung +fire at Mr. Dodd, looked at her with a vast compassion. Her heart +misgave her. + +"My dear," he said,--it was long since the judge had called any woman "my +dear,"--"I have bad news for you. The committee have decided that you +cannot teach any longer in the Brampton school." + +"Oh, Judge," she answered, trying to force back the tears which would +come, "I have tried so hard. I had begun to believe that I could fill +the place." + +"Fill the place!" cried the judge, startling her with his sudden anger. +"No woman in the state can fill it better than you." + +"Then why am I dismissed?" she asked breathlessly. + +The judge looked at her in silence, his blue lips quivering. Sometimes +even he found it hard to tell the truth. And yet he had come to tell it, +that she might suffer less. He remembered the time when Isaac D. +Worthington had done him a great wrong. + +"You are dismissed," he said, "because Mr. Worthington has come home, and +because the two other members of the committee are dogs and cowards." +Mr. Graves never minced matters when he began, and his voice shook with +passion. "If Mr. Errol had examined you, and you had your certificate, +it might have been different. Errol is not a sycophant. Worthington +does not hold his mortgage." + +"Mortgage!" exclaimed Cynthia. The word always struck terror to her +soul. + +"Mr. Worthington holds Mr. Hill's mortgage," said Mr. Graves, more than +ever beside himself at the sight of her suffering. "That man's tyranny +is not to be borne. We will not give up, Cynthia. I will fight him in +this matter if it takes my last ounce of strength, so help me God!" + +Mortgage! Cynthia sank down in the chair by the desk. In spite of the +misery the news had brought, the thought that his father, too, who was +fighting Jethro Bass as a righteous man, dealt in mortgages and coerced +men to do his will, was overwhelming. So she sat for a while staring at +the landscape on the old wall paper. + +"I will go to Coniston to-night," she said at last. + +"No," cried the judge, seizing her shoulder in his excitement, "no. +Do you think that I have been your friend--that I am your friend?" + +"Oh, Judge Graves--" + +"Then stay here, where you are. I ask it as a favor to me. You need not +go to the school to-morrow--indeed, you cannot. But stay here for a day +or two at least, and if there is any justice left in a free country, we +shall have it. Will you stay, as a favor to me?" + +"I will stay, since you ask it," said Cynthia. "I will do what you think +right." + +Her voice was firmer than he expected--much firmer. He glanced at her +quickly, with something very like admiration in his eye. + +"You are a good woman, and a brave woman," he said, and with this +somewhat surprising tribute he took his departure instantly. + +Cynthia was left to her thoughts, and these were harassing and sorrowful +enough. One idea, however, persisted through them all. Mr. Worthington, +whose power she had lived long enough in Brampton to know, was an unjust +man and a hypocrite. That thought was both sweet and bitter: sweet, as a +retribution; and bitter, because he was Bob's father. She realized, now, +that Bob knew these things, and she respected and loved him the more, if +that were possible, because he had refrained from speaking of them to +her. And now another thought came, and though she put it resolutely from +her, persisted. Was she not justified now in marrying him? The +reasoning was false, so she told herself. She had no right to separate +Bob from his father, whatever his father might be. Did not she still +love Jethro Bass? Yes, but he had renounced his ways. Her heart swelled +gratefully as she spoke the words to herself, and she reflected that he, +at least, had never been a hypocrite. + +Of one thing she was sure, now. In the matter of the school she had +right on her side, and she must allow Judge Graves to do whatever he +thought proper to maintain that right. If Isaac D. Worthington's +character had been different, this would not have been her decision. Now +she would not leave Brampton in disgrace, when she had done nothing to +merit it. Not that she believed that the judge would prevail against +such mighty odds. So little did she think so that she fell, presently, +into a despondency which in all her troubles had not overtaken her--the +despondency which comes even to the pure and the strong when they feel +the unjust strength of the world against them. In this state her eyes +fell on the letter she had started to Miss Lucretia Penniman, and in +desperation she began to write. + +It was a short letter, reserved enough, and quite in character. It was +right that she should defend herself, which she did with dignity, saying +that she believed the committee had no fault to find with her duties, but +that Mr. Worthington had seen fit to bring influence to bear upon them +because of her connection with Jethro Bass. + +It was not the whole truth, but Cynthia could not bring herself to write +of that other reason. At the end she asked, very simply, if Miss +Lucretia could find her something to do in Boston in case her dismissal +became certain. Then she put on her coat, and walked to the postoffice +to post the letter, for she resolved that there could be no shame without +reason for it. There was a little more color in her cheeks, and she held +her head high, preparing to be slighted. But she was not slighted, and +got more salutations, if anything, than usual. She was, indeed, in the +right not to hide her head, and policy alone would have forbade it, had +Cynthia thought of policy. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Public opinion is like the wind--it bloweth where it listeth. It +whistled around Brampton the next day, whirling husbands and wives apart, +and families into smithereens. Brampton had a storm all to itself--save +for a sympathetic storm raging in Coniston--and all about a school- +teacher. + +Had Cynthia been a certain type of woman, she would have had all the men +on her side and all of her own sex against her. It is a decided point to +be recorded in her favor that she had among her sympathizers as many +women as men. But the excitement of a day long remembered in Brampton +began, for her, when a score or more of children assembled in front of +the little house, tramping down the snow on the grass plots, shouting for +her to come to school with them. Children give no mortgages, or keep no +hardware stores. + +Cynthia, trying to read in front of the fire, was all in a tremble at the +sound of the high-pitched little voices she had grown to love, and she +longed to go out and kiss them, every one. Her nature, however, shrank +from any act which might appear dramatic or sensational. She could not +resist going to the window and smiling at them, though they appeared but +dimly--little dancing figures in a mist. And when they shouted, the more +she shook her head and put her finger to her lips in reproof and vanished +from their sight. Then they trooped sadly on to school, resolved to make +matters as disagreeable as possible for poor Miss Bruce, who had not +offended in any way. + +Two other episodes worthy of a place in this act of the drama occurred +that morning, and one had to do with Ephraim. Poor Ephraim! His way had +ever been to fight and ask no questions, and in his journey through the +world he had gathered but little knowledge of it. He had limped home the +night before in a state of anger of which Cynthia had not believed him +capable, and had reappeared in the sitting room in his best suit of blue. + +"Where are you going, Cousin Eph?" Cynthia had asked suspiciously. + +"Never you mind, Cynthy." + +"But I do mind," she said, catching hold of his sleeve. "I won't let you +go until you confess." + +"I'm a-goin' to tell Isaac Worthington what I think of him, that's whar +I'm a-goin'," cried Ephraim "what I always hev thought of him sence he +sent a substitute to the war an' acted treasonable here to home talkin' +ag'in' Lincoln." + +"Oh, Cousin Eph, you mustn't," said Cynthia, clinging to him with all her +strength in her dismay. It had taken every whit of her influence to +persuade him to relinquish his purpose. Cynthia knew very well that +Ephraim meant to lay hands on Mr. Worthington, and it would indeed have +been a disastrous hour for the first citizen if the old soldier had ever +got into his library. Cynthia pointed out, as best she might, that it +would be an evil hour for her, too, and that her cause would be greatly +injured by such a proceeding; she knew very well that it would ruin +Ephraim, but he would not have listened to such an argument. + +The next thing he wished to do was to go to Coniston and rouse Jethro. +Cynthia's heart stood still when he proposed this, for it touched upon +her greatest fear,--which had impelled her to go to Coniston. But she +had hoped and believed that Jethro, knowing her feelings, would do +nothing--since for her sake he had chosen to give up his power. Now an +acute attack of rheumatism had come to her rescue, and she succeeded in +getting Ephraim off to bed, swathed in bandages. + +The next morning he had insisted upon hobbling away to the postoffice, +where in due time he was discovered by certain members of the Brampton +Club nailing to the wall a new engraving of Abraham Lincoln, and draping +it with a little silk flag he had bought in Boston. By which it will be +seen that a potion of the Club were coming back to their old haunt. This +portion, it may be surmised, was composed of such persons alone as were +likely to be welcomed by the postmaster. Some of these had grievances +against Mr. Worthington or Mr. Flint; others, in more prosperous +circumstances, might have been moved by envy of these gentlemen; still +others might have been actuated largely by righteous resentment at what +they deemed oppression by wealth and power. These members who came that +morning comprised about one-fourth of those who formerly had been in the +habit of dropping in for a chat, and their numbers were a fair indication +of the fact that those who from various motives took the part of the +schoolteacher in Brampton were as one to three. + +It is not necessary to repeat their expressions of indignation and +sympathy. There was a certain Mr. Gamaliel Ives in the town, belonging +to an old Brampton family, who would have been the first citizen if that +other first citizen had not, by his rise to wealth and power, so +completely overshadowed him. Mr. Ives owned a small mill on Coniston +Water below the town. He fairly bubbled over with civic pride, and he +was an authority on all matters. pertaining to Brampton's history. He +knew the "Hymn to Coniston" by heart. But we are digressing a little. +Mr. Ives, like that other Gamaliel of old, had exhorted his fellow- +townsmen to wash their hands of the controversy. But he was an intimate +of Judge Graves, and after talking with that gentleman he became a +partisan overnight; and when he had stopped to get his mail he had been +lured behind the window by the debate in progress. He was in the midst +of some impromptu remarks when he recognized a certain brisk step behind +him, and Isaac D. Worthington himself entered the sanctum! + +It must be explained that Mr. Worthington sometimes had an important +letter to be registered which he carried to the postoffice with his own +hands. On such occasions--though not a member of the Brampton Club--he +walked, as an overlord will, into any private place he chose, and +recognized no partitions or barriers. Now he handed the letter +(addressed to a certain person in Cambridge, Massachusetts) to the +postmaster. + +"You will kindly register that and give me a receipt, Mr. Prescott," he +said. + +Ephraim turned from his contemplation of the features of the martyred +President, and on his face was something of the look it might have worn +when he confronted his enemies over the log-works at Five Forks. No, for +there was a vast contempt in his gaze now, and he had had no contempt for +the Southerners, and would have shaken hands with any of them the moment +the battle was over. Mr. Worthington, in spite of himself, recoiled a +little before that look, fearing, perhaps, physical violence. + +"I hain't a-goin' to hurt you, Mr. Worthington," Ephraim said, "but I am +a-goin' to ask you to git out in front, and mighty quick. If you hev any +business with the postmaster, there's the window," and Ephraim pointed to +it with his twisted finger. "I don't allow nobody but my friends here, +Mr. Worthington, and people I respect." + +Mr. Worthington looked--well, eye-witnesses give various versions as to +how he looked. All agree that his lip trembled; some say his eyes +watered: at any rate, he quailed, stood a moment undecided, and then +swung on his heel and walked to the partition door. At this safe +distance he turned. + +"Mr. Prescott," he said, his voice quivering with passion and perhaps +another emotion, "I will make it my duty to report to the postmaster- +general the manner in which this office is run. Instead of attending to +your business, you make the place a resort for loafers and idlers. Good +morning, sir." + +Ten minutes later Mr. Flint himself came to register the letter. But it +was done at the window, and the loafers and idlers were still there. + +The curtain had risen again, indeed, and the action was soon fast enough +for the most impatient that day. No sooner had the town heard with bated +breath of the expulsion of the first citizen from the inner sanctuary of +the post-office, than the news of another event began to go the rounds. +Mr. Worthington had other and more important things to think about than +minor postmasters, and after his anger and--yes, and momentary fear had +subsided, he forgot the incident except to make a mental note to remember +to deprive Mr. Prescott of his postmastership, which he believed could be +done readily enough now that Jethro Bass was out of the way. Then he had +stepped into the bank, which he had come to regard as his own bank, as he +regarded most institutions in Brampton. He had, in the old days, been +president of it, as we know. He stepped into the bank, and then--he +stepped out again. + +Most people have experienced that sickly feeling of the diaphragm which +sometimes comes from a sadden shock. Mr. Worthington had it now as he +hurried up the street, and he presently discovered that he was walking in +the direction opposite to that of his own home. He crossed the street, +made a pretence of going into Mr. Goldthwaite's drug store, and hurried +back again. When he reached his own library, he found Mr. Flint busy +there at his desk. Mr. Flint rose. Mr. Worthington sat down and began +to pull the papers about in a manner which betrayed to his seneschal (who +knew every mood of his master) mental perturbation. + +"Flint," he said at last, striving his best for an indifferent accent, +"Jethro Bass is here--I ran across him just now drawing money in the +bank." + +"I could have told you that this morning," answered Mr. Flint. "Wheeler, +who runs errands for him in Coniston, drove him in this morning, and he's +been with Peleg Hartington for two hours over Sherman's livery stable." + +An interval of silence followed, during which Mr. Worthington shuffled +with his letters and pretended to read them. + +"Graves has called a mass meeting to-night, I understand," he remarked in +the same casual way. "The man's a demagogue, and mad as a loon. I +believe he sent back one of our passes once, didn't he? I suppose Bass +has come in to get Hartington to work up the meeting. They'll be laughed +out of the town hall, or hissed out." + +"I guess you'll find Bass has come down for something else," said Mr. +Flint, looking up from a division report. + +"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Worthington, changing his attitude to +one of fierceness. But he was well aware that whatever tone he took with +his seneschal, he never fooled him. + +"I mean what I told you yesterday," said Flint, "that you've stirred up +the dragon." + +Even Mr. Flint did not know how like a knell his words sounded in Isaac +Worthington's ears. + +"Nonsense!" he cried, "you're talking nonsense, Flint. We maimed him too +thoroughly for that. He hasn't power enough left to carry his own town." + +"All right," said the seneschal. + +"What do you mean by that?" said his master, with extreme irritation. + +"I mean what I said yesterday, that we haven't maimed him at all. He had +his own reasons for going into his hole, and he never would have come out +again if you hadn't goaded him. Now he's out, and we'll have to step +around pretty lively, I can tell you, or he'll maim us." + +All of which goes to show that Mr. Flint had some notion of men and +affairs. He became, as may be predicted, the head of many material +things in later days, and he may sometime reappear in company with other +characters in this story. + +The sickly feeling in Mr. Worthington's diaphragm had now returned. + +"I think you will find you are mistaken, Flint," he said, attempting +dignity now. "Very much mistaken." + +"Very well," said Flint, "perhaps I am. But I believe you'll find he +left for the capital on the eleven o'clock, and if you take the trouble +to inquire from Bedding you will probably learn that the Throne Room is +bespoken for the session." + +All of that which Mr, Flint had predicted turned out to be true. The +dragon had indeed waked up. It all began with the news Milly Skinner had +got from the stage driver, imparted to Jethro as he sat reading about +Hiawatha. And terrible indeed had been that awakening. This dragon did +not bellow and roar and lash his tail when he was roused, but he stood +up, and there seemed to emanate from him a fire which frightened poor +Milly Skinner, upset though she was by the news of Cynthia's dismissal. +O, wondrous and paradoxical might of love, which can tame the most +powerful of beasts, and stir them again into furies by a touch! + +Coniston was the first to tremble, as though the forces stretching +themselves in the tannery house were shaking the very ground, and the +name of Jethro Bass took on once more, as by magic, a terrible meaning. +When Vesuvius is silent, pygmies may make faces on the very lip of the +crater, and they on the slopes forget the black terror of the fiery hail. +Jake Wheeler himself, loyal as he was, did not care to look into the +crater now that he was summoned; but a force pulled him all the way to +the tannery house. He left behind him an awe-stricken gathering at the +store, composed of inhabitants who had recently spoken slightingly of the +volcano. + +We are getting a little mixed in our metaphors between lions and dragons +and volcanoes, and yet none of them are too strong to represent Jethro +Bass when he heard that Isaac Worthington had had the teacher dismissed +from Brampton lower school. He did not stop to reason then that action +might distress her. The beast in him awoke again; the desire for +vengeance on a man whom he had hated most of his life, and who now had +dared to cause pain to the woman whom he loved with all his soul, and +even idolize, was too great to resist. He had no thought of resisting +it, for the waters of it swept over his soul like the Atlantic over a +lost continent. He would crush Isaac Worthington if it took the last +breath from his body. + +Jake went to the tannery house and received his orders--orders of which +he made a great mystery afterward at the store, although they consisted +simply of directions to be prepared to drive Jethro to Brampton the next +morning. But the look of the man had frightened Jake. He had never seen +vengeance so indelibly written on that face, and he had never before +realized the terrible power of vengeance. Mr. Wheeler returned from that +meeting in such a state of trepidation that he found it necessary to +accompany Rias to a certain keg in the cellar; after which he found his +tongue. His description of Jethro's appearance awed his hearers, and +Jake declared that he would not be in Isaac Worthington's shoes for all +of Isaac Worthington's money. There were others right here in Coniston, +Jake hinted, who might now find it convenient to emigrate to the far +West. + +Jethro's face had not changed when Jake drove him out of Coniston the +next morning. Good Mr. Satterlee saw it, and felt that the visit he had +wished to make would have been useless; Mr. Amos Cuthbert and Mr. Sam +Price saw it, from a safe distance within the store, and it is a fact +that Mr. Price seriously thought of taking Mr. Wheeler's advice about a +residence in the West; Mr. Cuthbert, of a sterner nature, made up his +mind to be hung and quartered. A few minutes before Jethro walked into +his office over the livery stable, Senator Peleg Hartington would have +denied, with that peculiar and mournful scorn of which he was master, +that Jethro Bass could ever again have any influence over him. Peleg +was, indeed, at that moment preparing, in his own way, to make overtures +to the party of Isaac D. Worthington. Jethro walked into the office, +leaving Jake below with Mr. Sherman; and Senator Hartington was very glad +he had not made the overtures. And when he accompanied Jethro to the +station when he left for the capital, the senator felt that the eyes of +men were upon him. + +And Cynthia? Happily, Cynthia passed the day in ignorance that Jethro +had gone through Brampton. Ephraim, though he knew of it, did not speak +of it when he came home to his dinner; Mr. Graves had called, and +informed her of the meeting in the town hall that night. + +"It is our only chance," he said obdurately, in answer to her protests. +"We must lay the case before the people of Brampton. If they have not +the courage to right the wrong, and force your reinstatement through +public opinion, there is nothing more to be done." + +To Cynthia, the idea of having a mass meeting concerning herself was +particularly repellent. + +"Oh, Judge Graves!" she cried, "if there isn't any other way, please drop +the matter. There are plenty of teachers who will--be acceptable to +everybody." + +"Cynthia," said the judge, "I can understand that this publicity is very +painful to you. I beg you to remember that we are contending for a +principle. In such cases the individual must be sacrificed to the common +good." + +"But I cannot go to the meeting--I cannot." + +"No," said the judge; "I don't think that will be necessary." + +After he was gone, she could think of nothing but the horror of having +her name--yes, and her character--discussed in that public place; and it +seemed to her, if she listened, she could hear a clatter of tongues +throughout the length of Brampton Street, and that she must fain stop her +ears or go mad. The few ladies who called during the day out of kindness +or curiosity, or both, only added to her torture. She was not one who +could open her heart to acquaintances: the curious ones got but little +satisfaction, and the kind ones thought her cold, and they did not +perceive that she was really grateful for their little attentions. +Gratitude, on such occasions, does not always consist in pouring out +one's troubles in the laps of visitors. + +So the visitors went home, wondering whether it were worth while after +all to interest themselves in the cause of such a self-contained and +self-reliant young woman. In spite of all her efforts, Cynthia had never +wholly succeeded in making most of the Brampton ladies believe that she +did not secretly deem herself above them. They belonged to a reserved +race themselves; but Cynthia had a reserve which was even different from +their own. + +As night drew on the predictions of Mr. Worthington seemed likely to be +fulfilled, and it looked as if Judge Graves would have a useless bill to +pay for gas in the new town hall. The judge had never been a man who +could compel a following, and he had no magnetism with which to lead a +cause: the town tradesmen, especially those in the new brick block, would +be chary as to risking the displeasure of their best customer. At half- +past seven Mr. Graves: came in, alone, and sat on the platform staring +grimly at his gas. Is there a lecturer, or, a playwright, or a +politician, who has not, at one time or another, been in the judge's +place? Who cannot sympathize with him as he watched the thin and +hesitating stream of people out of the corner of his eye as they came in +at the door? The judge despised them with all his soul, but it is human +nature not to wish to sit in a hall or a theatre that is three-quarters +empty. + +At sixteen minutes to eight a mild excitement occurred, an incident of +some significance which served to detain many waverers. Senator Peleg +Hartington walked up the aisle, and the judge rose and shook him by the +hand, and as Deacon Hartington he was invited to sit on the platform. +The senator's personal influence was not to be ignored; and it had +sufficed to carry his district in the last election against the +Worthington forces, in spite of the abdication of Jethro Bass. Mr. Page, +the editor of the Clarion, Senator Hartington's organ, was also on the +platform. But where was Mr. Ives? Where was that Gamaliel who had been +such a warm partisan in the postoffice that morning? + +"Saw him outside the hall--wahn't but ten minutes ago," said Deacon +Hartington, sadly; "thought he was a-comin' in." + +Eight o'clock came, and no Mr. Ives; ten minutes past--fifteen minutes +past. If the truth must be told, Mr. Ives had been on the very threshold +of the hall, and one glance at the poor sprinkling of people there had +decided him. Mr. Ives had a natural aversion to being laughed at, and as +he walked back on the darker side of the street he wished heartily that +he had stuck to his original Gamaliel-advocacy of no interference, of +allowing the Supreme Judge to decide. Such opinions were inevitably +just, Mr. Ives was well aware, though not always handed down immediately. +If he were to humble the first citizen, Mr. Ives reflected that a better +opportunity might present itself. The whistle of the up-train served to +strengthen his resolution, for he was reminded thereby that his mill +often had occasion to ask favors of the Truro Railroad. + +In the meantime it was twenty minutes past eight in the town hall, and +Mr. Graves had not rapped for order. Deacon Hartington sat as motionless +as a stork on the borders of a glassy lake at sunrise, the judge had +begun seriously to estimate the gas bill, and Mr. Page had chewed up the +end of a pencil. There was one, at least, in the audience of whom the +judge could be sure. A certain old soldier in blue sat uncompromisingly +on the front bench with his hands crossed over the head of his stick; but +the ladies and gentlemen nearest the door were beginning to vanish, one +by one, silently as ghosts, when suddenly the judge sat up. He would +have rubbed his eyes, had he been that kind of a man. Four persons had +entered the hall--he was sure of it--and with no uncertain steps as if +frightened by its emptiness. No, they came boldly. And after them +trooped others, and still others were heard in the street beyond, not +whispering, but talking in the unmistakable tones of people who had more +coming behind them. Yes, and more came. It was no illusion, or +delusion: there they were filling the hall as if they meant to stay, and +buzzing with excitement. The judge was quivering with excitement now, +but he, too, was only a spectator of the drama. And what a drama, with a +miracle-play for Brampton! + +Mr. Page rose from his chair and leaned over the edge of the platform +that something might be whispered in his ear. The news, whatever it was, +was apparently electrifying, and after the first shock he turned to +impart it to Mr. Graves; but turned too late, for the judge had already +rapped for order and was clearing his throat. He could not account for +this extraordinary and unlooked-for audience, among whom he spied many +who had thought it wiser not to protest against the dictum of the first +citizen, and many who had professed to believe that the teacher's +connection with Jethro Bass was a good and sufficient reason for +dismissal. The judge was prepared to take advantage of the tide, +whatever its cause. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I take the liberty of calling this +meeting to order. And before a chairman be elected, I mean to ask your +indulgence to explain my purposes in requesting the use of this hall to- +night. In our system of government, the inalienable and most precious +gift--" + +Whatever the gift was, the judge never explained. He paused at the +words, and repeated them, and stopped altogether because no one was +paying any attention to him. The hall was almost full, the people had +risen, with a hum, and as one man had turned toward the door. Mr. +Gamaliel Ives was triumphantly marching down the aisle, and with him was +--well, another person. Nay, personage would perhaps be the better word. + +Let us go back for a moment. There descended from that train of which we +have heard the whistle a lady with features of no ordinary moulding, with +curls and a string bonnet and a cloak that seemed strangely to harmonize +with the lady's character. She had the way of one in authority, and Mr. +Sherman himself ran to open the door of his only closed carriage, and the +driver galloped off with her all the way to the Brampton House. Once +there, the lady seized the pen as a soldier seizes the sword, and wrote +her name in most uncompromising characters on the register, Miss Lucretia +Penniman, Boston. Then she marched up to her room. + +Miss Lucretia Penniman, author of the "Hymn to Coniston," in the +reflected glory of whose fame Brampton had shone for thirty years! Whose +name was lauded and whose poem was recited at every Fourth of July +celebration, that the very children might learn it and honor its +composer! Stratford-on-Avon is not prouder of Shakespeare than Brampton +of Miss Lucretia, and now she was come back, unheralded, to her +birthplace. Mr. Raines, the clerk, looked at the handwriting on the +book, and would not believe his own sight until it was vouched for by +sundry citizens who had followed the lady from the station--on foot. And +then there was a to-do. + +Send for Mr. Gamaliel Ives; send for Miss Bruce, the librarian; send for +Mr. Page, editor of the Clarion, and notify the first citizen. He, +indeed, could not be sent for, but had he known of her coming he would +undoubtedly have had her met at the portals and presented with the keys +in gold. Up and down the street flew the news which overshadowed and +blotted out all other, and the poor little school-teacher was forgotten. + +One of these notables was at hand, though he did not deserve to be. Mr. +Gamaliel Ives sent up his card to Miss Lucretia, and was shown +deferentially into the parlor, where he sat mopping his brow and growing +hot and cold by turns. How would the celebrity treat him? The celebrity +herself answered the question by entering the room in such stately manner +as he had expected, to the rustle of the bombazine. Whereupon Mr. Ives +bounced out of his chair and bowed, though his body was not formed to +bend that way. + +"Miss Penniman," he exclaimed, "what an honor for Brampton! And what a +pleasure, the greater because so unexpected! How cruel not to have given +us warning, and we could have greeted you as your great fame deserves! +You could never take time from your great duties to accept the +invitations of our literary committee, alas! But now that you are here, +you will find a warm welcome, Miss Penniman. How long it has been-- +thirty years,--you see I know it to a day, thirty years since you left +us. Thirty years, I may say, we have kept burning the vestal fire in +your worship, hoping for this hour." + +Miss Lucretia may have had her own ideas about the propriety of the +reference to the vestal fire. + +"Gamaliel," she said sharply, "straighten up and don't talk nonsense to +me. I've had you on my knee, and I knew your mother and father." + +Gamaliel did straighten up, as though Miss Lucretia had applied a lump of +ice to the small of his back. So it is when the literary deities, vestal +or otherwise, return to their Stratfords. There are generally surprises +in store for the people they have had on their knees, and for others. + +"Gamaliel," said Miss Lucretia, "I want to see the prudential committee +for the village district." + +"The prudential committee!" Mr. Ives fairly shrieked the words in his +astonishment. + +"I tried to speak plainly," said Miss Lucretia. "Who are on that +committee?" + +"Ezra Graves," said Mr. Ives, as though mechanically compelled, for his +head was spinning round. "Ezra Graves always has run it, until now. But +he's in the town hall." + +"What's he doing there?" + +Mr. Ives was no fool. Some inkling of the facts began to shoot through +his brain, and he saw his chance. + +"He called a mass meeting to protest against the dismissal of a teacher." + +"Gamaliel," said Miss Lucretia, "you will conduct me to that meeting. I +will get my cloak." + +Mr. Ives wasted no time in the interval, and he fairly ran out into the +office. Miss Lucretia Penniman was in town, and would attend the mass +meeting. Now, indeed, it was to be a mass meeting. Away flew the +tidings, broadcast, and people threw off their carpet slippers and +dressing gowns, and some who had gone to bed got up again. Mr. Dodd +heard it, and changed his shoes three times, and his intentions three +times three. Should he go, or should he not? Already he heard in +imagination the first distant note of the populace, and he was not of the +metal to defend a Bastille or a Louvre for his royal master with the last +drop of his blood. + +In the meantime Gamaliel Ives was conducting Miss Lucretia toward, the +town hall, and speaking in no measured tones of indignation of the +cringing, truckling qualities of that very Mr. Dodd. The injustice to +Miss Wetherell, which Mr. Ives explained as well as he could, made his +blood boil: so he declared. + +And note we are back again at the meeting, when the judge, with his hand +on his Adam's apple, is pronouncing the word "gift." Mr. Ives is +triumphantly marching down the aisle, escorting the celebrity of Brampton +to the platform, and quite aware of the heart burnings of his fellow- +citizens on the benches. And Miss Lucretia, with that stern composure +with which celebrities accept public situations, follows up the steps as +of right and takes the chair he assigns her beside the chairman. The +judge, still grasping his Adam's apple, stares at the newcomer in +amazement, and recognizes her in spite of the years, and trembles. Miss +Lucretia Penniman! Blucher was not more welcome to Wellington, or +Lafayette to Washington, than was Miss Lucretia to Ezra Graves as he +turned his back on the audience and bowed to her deferentially. Then he +turned again, cleared his throat once more to collect his senses, and was +about to utter the familiar words, "We have with us tonight," when they +were taken out of his mouth--taken out of his mouth by one who had in all +conscience stolen enough thunder for one man,--Mr. Gamaliel Ives. + +"Mr. Chairman," said Mr. Ives, taking a slight dropping of the judge's +lower jaw for recognition, "and ladies and gentlemen of Brampton. It is +our great good fortune to have with us to-night, most unexpectedly, one +of whom Brampton is, and for many years has been, justly proud." +(Cheers.) "One whose career Brampton has followed with a mother's eyes +and with a mother's heart. One who has chosen a broader field for the +exercise of those great powers with which Nature endowed her than +Brampton could give. One who has taken her place among the luminaries of +literature of her time." (Cheers.) "One who has done more than any +other woman of her generation toward the uplifting of the sex which she +honors." (Cheers and clapping of hands.) "And one who, though her lot +has fallen among the great, has not forgotten the home of her childhood. +For has she not written those beautiful lines which we all know by heart? + + 'Ah, Coniston! Thy lordly form I see + Before mine eyes in exile drear.' + +"Mr. Chairman and fellow-townsmen and women, I have the extreme honor of +introducing to you one whom we all love and revere, the author of the +'Hymn to Coniston,' the editor of the Woman's Hour, Miss Lucretia +Penniman.'" (Loud and long-continued applause.) + +Well might Brampton be proud, too, of Gamaliel Ives, president of its +literary club, who could make such a speech as this on such short notice. +If the truth be told, the literary club had sent Miss Lucretia no less +than seven invitations, and this was the speech Mr. Ives had intended to +make on those seven occasions. It was unquestionably a neat speech, and +Judge Graves or no other chairman should cheat him out of making it. Mr. +Ives, with a wave of his hand toward the celebrity, sat down by no means +dissatisfied with himself. What did he care how the judge glared. He +did not see how stiffly Miss Lucretia sat in her chair. She could not +take him on her knee then, but she would have liked to. + +Miss Lucretia rose, and stood quite as stiffly as she had sat, and the +judge rose, too. He was very angry, but this was not the time to get +even with Mr. Ives. As it turned out, he did not need to bother about +getting even. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," said he, "in the absence of any other chairman I +take pleasure in introducing to you Miss Lucretia Penniman." + +More applause was started, but Miss Lucretia put a stop to it by the +lifting of a hand. Then there was a breathless silence. Then she cast +her eyes around the hall, as though daring any one to break that silence, +and finally they rested upon Mr. Ives. + +"Mr. Chairman," she said, with an inclination toward the judge, "my +friends--for I hope you will be my friends when I have finished" (Miss +Lucretia made it quite clear by her tone that it entirely depended upon +them whether they would be or not), "I understood when I came here that +this was to be a mass meeting to protest against an injustice, and not a +feast of literature and oratory, as Gamaliel Ives seems to suppose." + +She paused, and when the first shock of amazement was past an audible +titter ran through the audience, and Mr. Ives squirmed visibly. + +"Am I right, Mr. Chairman?" asked Miss Lucretia. + +"You are unquestionably right, Miss Penniman," answered the chairman, +rising, "unquestionably." + +"Then I will proceed," said Miss Lucretia. "I wrote the Hymn to +Coniston' many years ago, when I was younger, and yet it is true that I +have always remembered Brampton with kindly feelings. The friends of our +youth are dear to us. We look indulgently upon their failings, even as +they do on ours. I have scanned the faces here in the hall to-night, and +there are some that have not changed beyond recognition in thirty years. +Ezra Graves I remember, and it is a pleasure to see him in that chair." +(Mr. Graves inclined his head, reverently. None knew how the inner man +exulted.) "But there was one who was often in Brampton in those days," +Miss Lucretia continued, "whom we all loved and with whom we found no +fault, and I confess that when I have thought of Brampton I have oftenest +thought of her. Her name," said Miss Lucretia, her hand now in the +reticule, "her name was Cynthia Ware." + +There was a decided stir among the audience, and many leaned forward to +catch every word. + +"Even old people may have an ideal," said Miss Lucretia, "and you will +forgive me for speaking of mine. Where should I speak of it, if not in +this village, among those who knew her and among their children? Cynthia +Ware, although she was younger than I, has been my ideal, and is still. +She was the daughter of the Rev. Samuel Ware of Coniston, and a +descendant of Captain Timothy Prescott, whom General Stark called 'Honest +Tim.' She was, to me, all that a woman should be, in intellect, in her +scorn of all that is ignoble and false, and in her loyalty to her +friends." Here the handkerchief came out of the reticule. "She went to +Boston to teach school, and some time afterward I was offered a position +in New York, and I never saw her again. But she married in Boston a man +of learning and literary attainments, though his health was feeble and he +was poor, William Wetherell." (Another stir.) "Mr. Wetherell was a +gentleman--Cynthia Ware could have married no other--and he came of good +and honorable people in Portsmouth. Very recently I read a collection of +letters which he wrote to the Newcastle Guardian, which some of you may +know. I did not trust my own judgment as to those letters, but I took +them to an author whose name is known wherever English is spoken, but +which I will not mention. And the author expressed it as his opinion, in +writing to me, that William Wetherell was undoubtedly a genius of a high +order, and that he would have been so recognized if life had given him a +chance. Mr. Wetherell, after his wife died, was taken in a dying +condition to Coniston, where he was forced, in order to earn his living, +to become the storekeeper there. But he took his books with him, and +found time to write the letters of which I have spoken, and to give his +daughter an early education such as few girls have. + +"My friends, I am rejoiced to see that the spirit of justice and the +sense of right are as strong in Brampton as they used to be--strong +enough to fill this town hall to overflowing because a teacher has been +wrongly--yes, and iniquitously--dismissed from the lower school." (Here +there was a considerable stir, and many wondered whether Miss Lucretia +was aware of the irony in her words.) "I say wrongly and iniquitously, +because I have had the opportunity in Boston this winter of learning to +know and love that teacher. I am not given to exaggeration, my friends, +and when I tell you that I know her, that her character is as high and +pure as her mother's, I can say no more. I am here to tell you this to- +night because I do not believe you know her as I do. During the seventy +years I have lived I have grown to have but little faith in outward +demonstration, to believe in deeds and attainments rather than +expressions. And as for her fitness to teach, I believe that even the +prudential committee could find no fault with that." (I wonder whether +Mr. Dodd was in the back of the hall.) "I can find no fault with it. I +am constantly called upon to recommend teachers, and I tell you I should +have no hesitation in sending Cynthia Wetherell to a high school, young +as she is." + +"And now, my friends, why was she dismissed? I have heard the facts, +though not from her. Cynthia Wetherell does not know that I have come to +Brampton, unless somebody has told her, and did not know that I was +coming. I have heard the facts, and I find it difficult to believe that +so great a wrong could be attempted against a woman, and if the name of +Cynthia Wetherell had meant no more to me than the letters in it I should +have travelled twice as far as Brampton, old as I am, to do my utmost to +right that wrong. I give you my word of honor that I have never been so +indignant in my life. I do not come here to stir up enmities among you, +and I will mention no more names. I prefer to believe that the +prudential committee of this district has made a mistake, the gravity of +which they must now realize, and that they will reinstate Cynthia +Wetherell to-morrow. And if they should not of their own free will, I +have only to look around this meeting to be convinced that they will be +compelled to. Compelled to, my friends, by the sense of justice and the +righteous indignation of the citizens of Brampton." + +Miss Lucretia sat down, her strong face alight with the spirit that was +in her. Not the least of the compelling forces in this world is +righteous anger, and when it is exercised by a man or a woman whose life +has been a continual warfare against the pests of wrong, it is well-nigh +irresistible. While you could count five seconds the audience sat +silent, and then began such tumult and applause as had never been seen in +Brampton--all started, so it is said, by an old soldier in the front row +with his stick. Isaac D. Worthington, sitting alone in the library of +his mansion, heard it, and had no need to send for Mr. Flint to ask what +it was, or who it was had fired the Third Estate. And Mr. Dodd heard it. +He may have been in the hall, but now he sat at home, seeing visions of +the lantern, and he would have fled to the palace had he thought to get +any sympathy from his sovereign. No, Mr. Dodd did not hold the Bastille +or even fight for it. Another and a better man gave up the keys, for +heroes are sometimes hidden away in meek and retiring people who wear +spectacles and have a stoop to their shoulders. Long before the +excitement died away a dozen men were on their feet shouting at the +chairman, and among them was the tall, stooping man with spectacles. He +did not shout, but Judge Graves saw him and made up his mind that this +was the man to speak. The chairman raised his hand and rapped with his +gavel, and at length he had obtained silence. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I am going to recognize Mr. Hill of the +prudential committee, and ask him to step up on the platform." + +There fell another silence, as absolute as the first, when Mr. Hill +walked down the aisle and climbed the steps. Indeed, people were +stupefied, for the feed dealer was a man who had never opened his mouth +in town-meeting; who had never taken an initiative of any kind; who had +allowed other men to take advantage of him, and had never resented it. +And now he was going to speak. Would he defend the prudential committee, +or would he declare for the teacher? Either course, in Mr. Hill's case, +required courage, and he had never been credited with any. If Mr. Hill +was going to speak at all, he was going to straddle. + +He reached the platform, bowed irresolutely to the chairman, and then +stood awkwardly with one knee bent, peering at his audience over his +glasses. He began without any address whatever. + +"I want to say," he began in a low voice, "that I had no intention of +coming to this meeting. And I am going to confess--I am going to confess +that I was afraid to come." He raised his voice a little defiantly a the +words, and paused. One could almost hear the people breathing. "I was +afraid to come for fear that I should do the very thing I am going to do +now. And yet I was impelled to come. I want to say that my conscience +has not been clear since, as a member of the prudential committee, I gave +my consent to the dismissal of Miss Wetherell. I know that I was +influenced by personal and selfish considerations which should have had +no weight. And after listening to Miss Penniman I take this opportunity +to declare, of my own free will, that I will add my vote to that of Judge +Graves to reinstate Miss Wetherell." + +Mr. Hill bowed slightly, and was about to descend the steps when the +chairman, throwing parliamentary dignity to the winds, arose and seized +the feed dealer's hand. And the people in the hall almost as one man +sprang to their feet and cheered, and some--Ephraim Prescott among these- +-even waved their hats and shouted Mr. Hill's name. A New England +audience does not frequently forget itself, but there were few present +who did not understand the heroism of the man's confession, who were not +carried away by the simple and dramatic dignity of it. He had no need to +mention Mr. Worthington's name, or specify the nature of his obligations +to that gentleman. In that hour Jonathan Hill rose high in the respect +of Brampton, and some pressed into the aisle to congratulate him on his +way back to his seat. Not a few were grateful to him for another reason. +He had relieved the meeting of the necessity of taking any further +action: of putting their names, for instance, in their enthusiasm to a +paper which the first citizen might see. + +Judge Graves, whose sense of a climax was acute, rapped for order. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, in a voice not wholly free from emotion, +"you will all wish to pay your respects to the famous lady, who is with +us. I see that the Rev. Mr. Sweet is present, and I suggest that we +adjourn, after he has favored us with a prayer." + +As the minister came forward, Deacon Hartington dropped his head and +began to flutter his eyelids. The Rev. Mr. Sweet prayed, and so was +brought to an end the most exciting meeting ever held in Brampton town +hall. + +But Miss Lucretia did not like being called "a famous lady." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +While Miss Lucretia was standing, unwillingly enough, listening to the +speeches that were poured into her ear by various members of the +audience, receiving the incense and myrrh to which so great a celebrity +was entitled, the old soldier hobbled away to his little house as fast as +his three legs would carry him. Only one event in his life had eclipsed +this in happiness--the interview in front of the White House. He rapped +on the window with his stick, thereby frightening Cynthia half out of her +wits as she sat musing sorrowfully by the fire. + +"Cousin Ephraim," she said, taking off his corded hat, "what in the +world's the matter with you?" + +"You're a schoolmarm again, Cynthy." + +"Do you mean to say?" + +"Miss Lucretia Penniman done it." + +"Miss Lucretia Penniman!" Cynthia began to think his rheumatism was +driving him out of his mind. + +"You bet. 'Long toward the openin' of the engagement there wahn't +scarcely anybody thar but me, and they was a-goin'. But they come fast +enough when they l'arned she was in town, and she blew 'em up higher'n +the Petersburg crater. Great Tecumseh, there's a woman! Next to General +Grant, I'd sooner shake her hand than anybody's livin'." + +"Do you mean to say that Miss Lucretia is in Brampton and spoke at the +mass meeting?" + +"Spoke!" exclaimed Ephraim, "callate she did--some. Tore 'em all up. +They'd a hung Isaac D. Worthington or Levi Dodd if they'd a had 'em +thar." + +Cynthia, striving to be calm herself, got him into a chair and took his +stick and straightened out his leg, and then Ephraim told her the story, +and it lost no dramatic effect in his telling. He would have talked all +night. But at length the sound of wheels was heard in the street, +Cynthia flew to the door, and a familiar voice came out of the darkness. + +"You need not wait, Gamaliel. No, thank you, I think I will stay at the +hotel." + +Gamaliel was still protesting when Miss Lucretia came in and seized +Cynthia in her arms, and the door was closed behind her. + +"Oh, Miss Lucretia, why did you come?" said Cynthia, "if I had known you +would do such a thing, I should never have written that letter. I have +been sorry to-day that I did write it, and now I'm sorrier than ever." + +"Aren't you glad to see me?" demanded Miss Lucretia. + +"Miss Lucretia!" + +"What are friends for?" asked Miss Lucretia, patting her hand. "If you +had known how I wished to see you, Cynthia, and I thought a little trip +would be good for such a provincial Bostonian as I am. Dear, dear, I +remember this house. It used to belong to Gabriel Post in my time, and +right across from it was the Social Library, where I have spent so many +pleasant hours with your mother. And this is Ephraim Prescott. I +thought it was, when I saw him sitting in the front row, and I think he +must have been very lonesome there at one time." + +"Yes, ma'am," said Ephraim, giving her his gnarled fingers; "I was just +sayin' to Cynthy that I'd ruther shake your hand than anybody's livin' +exceptin' General Grant." + +"And I'd rather shake yours than the General's," said Miss Lucretia, for +the Woman's Hour had taken the opposition side in a certain recent public +question concerning women. + +"If you'd a fit with him, you wouldn't say that, Miss Lucrety." + +"I haven't a word to say against his fighting qualities," she replied. + +"Guess the General might say the same of you," said Ephraim. "If you'd a +b'en a man, I callate you'd a come out of the war with two stars on your +shoulder. Godfrey, Miss Lucrety, you'd ought to've b'en a man." + +"A man!" cried Miss Lucretia, "and 'stars on my shoulder'! I think this +kind of talk has gone far enough, Ephraim Prescott." + +"Cousin Eph," said Cynthia, laughing, "you're no match for Miss Lucretia, +and it's long past your bedtime." + +"A man!" repeated Miss Lucretia, after he had retired, and after Cynthia +had tried to express her gratitude and had been silenced. They sat side +by side in front of the chimney. "I suppose he meant that as a +compliment. I never yet saw the man I couldn't back down, and I haven't +any patience with a woman who gives in to them." Miss Lucretia poked +vigorously a log which had fallen down, as though that were a man, too, +and she was putting him back in his proper place. + +Cynthia, strange to say, did not reply to this remark. + +"Cynthia," said Miss Lucretia, abruptly, "you don't mean to say that you +are in love!" + +Cynthia drew a long breath, and grew as red as the embers. + +"Miss Lucretia!" she exclaimed, in astonishment and dismay. + +"Well," Miss Lucretia said, "I should have thought you could have gotten +along, for a while at least, without anything of that kind. My dear," +she said leaning toward Cynthia, "who is he?" + +Cynthia turned away. She found it very hard to speak of her troubles, +even to Miss Lucretia, and she would have kept this secret even from +Jethro, had it been possible. + +"You must let him know his place," said Miss Lucretia, "and I hope he is +in some degree worthy of you." + +"I do not intend to marry him," said Cynthia, with head still turned +away. + +It was now Miss Lucretia who was silent. + +"I came near getting married once," she said presently, with +characteristic abruptness. + +"You!" cried Cynthia, looking around in amazement. + +"You see, I am franker than you, my dear--though I never told any one +else. I believe you can keep a secret." + +"Of course I can. Who--was it anyone in Brampton, Miss Lucretia?" The +question was out before Cynthia realized its import. She was turning the +tables with a vengeance. + +"It was Ezra Graves," said Miss Lucretia. + +"Ezra Graves!" And then Cynthia pressed Miss Lucretia's hand in silence, +thinking how strange it was that both of them should have been her +champions that evening. + +Miss Lucretia poked the fire again. + +"It was shortly after that, when I went to Boston, that I wrote the 'Hymn +to Coniston.' I suppose we must all be fools once or twice, or we should +not be human." + +"And--weren't you ever--sorry?" asked Cynthia. + +Again there was a silence. + +"I could not have done the work I have had to do in the world if I had +married. But I have often wondered whether that work was worth the +while. Such a feeling must come over all workers, occasionally. Yes," +said Miss Lucretia, "there have been times when I have been sorry, my +dear, though I have never confessed it to another soul. I am telling you +this for your own good--not mine. If you have the love of a good man, +Cynthia, be careful what you do with it." + +The tears had come into Cynthia's eyes. + +"I should have told you, Miss Lucretia," she faltered. "If I could have +married him, it would have been easier." + +"Why can't you marry him?" demanded Miss Lucretia, sharply--to hide her +own emotion. + +"His name," said Cynthia, "is Bob Worthington:" + +"Isaac Worthington's son?" + +"Yes." + +Another silence, Miss Lucretia being utterly unable to say anything for a +space. + +"Is he a good man?" + +Cynthia was on the point of indignant-protest, but she stopped herself in +time. + +"I will tell you what he has done," she answered, "and then you shall +judge for yourself." + +And she told Miss Lucretia, simply, all that Bob had done, and all that +she herself had done. + +"He is like his mother, Sarah Hollingsworth; I knew her well," said Miss +Lucretia. "If Isaac Worthington were a man, he would be down on his +knees begging you to marry his son. He tried hard enough to marry your +own mother." + +"My mother!" exclaimed Cynthia, who had never believed that rumor. + +"Yes," said Miss Lucretia, "and you may thank your stars he didn't +succeed. I mistrusted him when he was a young man, and now I know that +he hasn't changed. He is a coward and a hypocrite." + +Cynthia could not deny this. + +"And yet," she said, after a moment's silence, "I am sure you will say +that I have been right. My own conscience tells me that it is wrong to +deprive Bob of his inheritance, and to separate him from his father, +whatever his father--may be." + +"We shall see what happens in five years," said Miss Lucretia. + +"Five years!" said Cynthia, in spite of herself. + +"Jacob served seven for Rachel," answered Miss Lucretia; "that period is +scarcely too short to test a man, and you are both young." + +"No," said Cynthia, "I cannot marry him, Miss Lucretia. The world would +accuse me of design, and I feel that I should not be happy. I am sure +that he would never reproach me, even if things went wrong, but--the day +might come when--when he would wish that it had been otherwise." + +Miss Lucretia kissed her. + +"You are very young, my dear," she repeated, "and none of us may say what +changes time may bring forth. And now I must go." + +Cynthia insisted upon walking with her friend down the street to the +hotel--an undertaking that was without danger in Brampton. And it was +only a step, after all. A late moon floated in the sky, throwing in +relief the shadow of the Worthington mansion against the white patches of +snow. A light was still burning in the library. + +The next morning after breakfast Miss Lucretia appeared at the little +house, and informed Cynthia that she would walk to school with her. + +"But I have not yet been notified by the Committee," said Cynthia. There +was a knock at the door, and in walked Judge Ezra Graves. Miss Lucretia +may have blushed, but it is certain that Cynthia did. Never had she seen +the judge so spick and span, and he wore the broadcloth coat he usually +reserved for Sundays. He paused at the threshold, with his hand on his +Adam's apple. + +"Good morning, ladies," he said, and looked shyly at Miss Lucretia and +cleared his throat, and spoke with the elaborate decorum he used on +occasions, "Miss Penniman, I wish to thank you again for your noble +action of last evening." + +"Don't 'Miss Penniman' me, Ezra Graves," retorted Miss Lucretia; "the +only noble action I know of was poor Jonathan Hill's--unless it was +paying for the gas." + +This was the way in which Miss Lucretia treated her lover after thirty +years! Cynthia thought of what the lady had said to her a few hours +since, by this very fire, and began to believe she must have dreamed it. +Fires look very differently at night--and sometimes burn brighter then. +The judge parted his coat tails, and seated himself on the wooden edge of +a cane-bottomed chair. + +"Lucretia," he said, "you haven't changed." + +"You have, Ezra," she replied, looking at the Adam's apple. + +"I'm an old man," said Ezra Graves. + +Cynthia could not help thinking that he was a very different man, in Miss +Lucretia's presence, than when at the head of the prudential committee. + +"Ezra," said Miss Lucretia, "for a man you do very well." + +The judge smiled. + +"Thank you, Lucretia," said he. He seemed to appreciate the full extent +of the compliment. + +"Judge Graves," said Cynthia, "I can tell you how good you are, at least, +and thank you for your great kindness to me, which I shall never forget." + +She took his withered hands from his knees and pressed them. He returned +the pressure, and then searched his coat tails, found a handkerchief, and +blew his nose violently. + +"I merely did my duty, Miss Wetherell," he said. "I would not wilfully +submit to a wrong." + +"You called me Cynthia yesterday." + +"So I did," he answered, "so I did." Then he looked at Miss Lucretia. + +"Ezra," said that lady, smiling a little, "I don't believe you have +changed, after all." + +What she meant by that nobody knows. + +"I had thought, Cynthia," said the judge, "that it might be more +comfortable for you to have me go to the school with you. That is the +reason for my early call." + +"Judge Graves, I do appreciate your kindness," said Cynthia; "I hope you +won't think I'm rude if I say I'd rather go alone." + +"On the contrary, my dear," replied the judge, "I think I can understand +and esteem your feeling in the matter, and it shall be as you wish." + +"Then I think I had better be going," said Cynthia. The judge rose in +alarm at the words, but she put her hand on his shoulder. "Won't you sit +down and stay," she begged, "you haven't seen Miss Lucretia for how many +years,--thirty, isn't it?" + +Again he glanced at Miss Lucretia, uncertainly. "Sit down, Ezra," she +commanded, "and for goodness' sake don't be afraid of the cane bottom. +You won't go through it. I should like to talk to you, and most of the +gossips of our day are dead. I shall stay in Brampton to-day, Cynthia, +and eat supper with you here this evening." + +Cynthia, as she went out of the door, wondered what they would talk +about. Then she turned toward the school. It was not the March wind +that burned her cheeks; as she thought of the mass meeting the night +before, which was all about her, she wished she might go to school that +morning through the woods and pasture lots rather than down Brampton +Street. What--what would Bob say when he heard of the meeting? Would he +come again to Brampton? If he did, she would run away to Boston with +Miss Lucretia. Every day it had been a trial to pass the Worthington +house, but she could not cross the wide street to avoid it. She hurried +a little, unconsciously, when she came to it, for there was Mr. +Worthington on the steps talking to Mr. Flint. How he must hate her now, +Cynthia reflected! He did not so much as look up when she passed. + +The other citizens whom she met made up for Mr. Worthington's coldness, +and gave her a hearty greeting, and some stopped to offer their +congratulations. Cynthia did not pause to philosophize: she was learning +to accept the world as it was, and hurried swiftly on to the little +schoolhouse. The children saw her coming, and ran to meet her and +escorted her triumphantly in at the door. Of their welcome she could be +sure. Thus she became again teacher of the lower school. + +How the judge and Miss Lucretia got along that morning, Cynthia never +knew. Miss Lucretia spent the day in her old home, submitting to hero- +worship, and attended an evening party in her honor at Mr. Gamaliel +Ives's house--a mansion not so large as the first citizen's, though it +had two bay-windows and was not altogether unimposing. The first +citizen, needless to say, was not there, but the rest of the elite +attended. Mr. Ives will tell you all about the entertainment if you go +to Brampton, but the real reason Miss Lucretia consented to go was to +please Lucy Baird, who was Gamaliel's wife, and to chat with certain old +friends whom she had not seen. The next morning she called at the school +to bid Cynthia good-by, and to whisper something in her ear which made +her very red before all the scholars. She shook her head when Miss +Lucretia said it, for it had to do with an incident in the 29th chapter +of Genesis. + +While Jonathan Hill was being made a hero of in the little two-by-four +office of the feed store the morning after the mass meeting (though +nobody offered to take over his mortgage), Mr. Dodd was complaining to +his wife of shooting pains, and "callated" he would stay at home that +day. + +"Shootin' fiddlesticks!" said Mrs. Dodd. "Get along down to the store +and face the music, Levi Dodd. You'd have had shootin' pains if you'd a +went to the meetin'." + +"I might stop by at Mr. Worthington's house and explain how powerless I +was--" + +"For goodness' sake git out, Levi. I guess he knows how powerless you +are with your shootin' pains. If you only could forget Isaac D. +Worthington for three minutes, you wouldn't have 'em." + +Mr. Dodd's two clerks saw him enter the store by the back door and he was +very much interested in the new ploughs which were piled up in crates +outside of it. Then he disappeared into his office and shut the door, +and supposedly became very much absorbed in book-keeping. If any one +called, he was out--any one. Plenty of people did call, but he was not +disturbed--until ten o'clock. Mr. Dodd had a very sensitive ear, and he +could often recognize a man by his step, and this man he recognized. + +"Where's Mr. Dodd?" demanded the owner of the step, indignantly. + +"He's out, Mr. Worthington. Anything I can do for you, Mr. Worthington?" + +"You can tell him to come up to my house the moment he comes in." + +Unfortunately Mr. Dodd in the office had got into a strained position. +He found it necessary to move a little; the day-book fell heavily to the +floor, and the perspiration popped out all over his forehead. Come out, +Levi Dodd. The Bastille is taken, but there are other fortresses still +in the royal hands where you may be confined. + +"Who's in the office?" + +"I don't know, sir," answered the clerk, winking at his companion, who +was sorting nails. + +In three strides the great man had his hand on the office door and had +flung it open, disclosing the culprit cowering over the day-book on the +floor. + +"Mr. Dodd," cried the first citizen, "what do you mean by--?" + +Some natures, when terrified, are struck dumb. Mr. Dodd's was the kind +which bursts into speech. + +"I couldn't help it, Mr. Worthington," he cried, "they would have it. +I don't know what got into 'em. They lost their senses, Mr. Worthington, +plumb lost their senses. If you'd a b'en there, you might have brought +'em to. I tried to git the floor, but Ezry Graves--" + +"Confound Ezra Graves, and wait till I have done, can't you," interrupted +the first citizen, angrily. "What do you mean by putting a bath-tub into +my house with the tin loose, so that I cut my leg on it?" + +Mr. Dodd nearly fainted from sheer relief. + +"I'll put a new one in to-day, right now," he gasped. + +"See that you do," said the first citizen, "and if I lose my leg, I'll +sue you for a hundred thousand dollars." + +"I was a-goin' to explain about them losin' their heads at the mass +meetin'--" + +"Damn their heads!" said the first citizen. "And yours, too," he may +have added under his breath as he stalked out. It was not worth a swing +of the executioner's axe in these times of war. News had arrived from +the state capital that morning of which Mr. Dodd knew nothing. Certain +feudal chiefs from the North Country, of whose allegiance Mr. Worthington +had felt sure, had obeyed the summons of their old sovereign, Jethro +Bass, and had come South to hold a conclave under him at the Pelican. +Those chiefs of the North Country, with their clans behind them as one +man, what a power they were in the state! What magnificent qualities +they had, in battle or strategy, and how cunning and shrewd was their +generalship! Year after year they came down from their mountains and +fought shoulder to shoulder, and year after year they carried back the +lion's share of the spoils between them. The great South, as a whole, +was powerless to resist them, for there could be no lasting alliance +between Harwich and Brampton and Newcastle and Gosport. Now their king +had come back, and the North Country men were rallying again to his +standard. No wonder that Levi Dodd's head, poor thing that it was, was +safe for a while. + +"Organize what you have left, and be quick about it," said Mr. Flint, +when the news had come, and they sat in the library planning a new +campaign in the face of this evident defection. There was no time to cry +over spilt milk or reinstated school-teachers. The messages flew far and +wide to the manufacturing towns to range their guilds into line for the +railroads. The seneschal wrote the messages, and sent the summons to the +sleek men of the cities, and let it be known that the coffers were full +and not too tightly sealed, that the faithful should not lack for the +sinews of war. Mr. Flint found time, too, to write some carefully worded +but nevertheless convincing articles for the Newcastle Guardian, very +damaging to certain commanders who had proved unfaithful. + +"Flint," said Mr. Worthington, when they had worked far into the night, +"if Bass beats us, I'm a crippled man." + +"And if you postpone the fight now that you have begun it? What then?" + +The answer, Mr. Worthington knew, was the same either way. He did not +repeat it. He went to his bed, but not to sleep for many hours, and when +he came down to his breakfast in the morning, he was in no mood to read +the letter from Cambridge which Mrs. Holden had put on his plate. But he +did read it, with what anger and bitterness may be imagined. There was +the ultimatum,--respectful, even affectionate, but firm. "I know that +you will, in all probability, disinherit me as you say, and I tell you +honestly that I regret the necessity of quarrelling with you more than I +do the money. I do not pretend to say that I despise money, and I like +the things that it buys, but the woman I love is more to me than all that +you have." + +Mr. Worthington laid the letter down, and there came irresistibly to his +mind something that his wife had said to him before she died, shortly +after they had moved into the mansion. "Dudley, how happy we used to be +together before we were rich!" Money had not been everything to Sarah +Worthington, either. But now no tender wave of feeling swept over him as +he recalled those words. He was thinking of what weapon he had to +prevent the marriage beyond that which was now useless--disinheritance. +He would disinherit Bob, and that very day. He would punish his son to +the utmost of his power for marrying the ward of Jethro Bass. He +wondered bitterly, in case a certain event occurred, whether he would +have much to alienate. + +When Mr. Flint arrived, fresh as usual in spite of the work he had +accomplished and the cigars he had smoked the night before, Mr. +Worthington still had the letter in his hand, and was pacing his library +floor, and broke into a tirade against his son. + +"After all I have done for him, building up for him a position and a +fortune that is only surpassed by young Duncan's, to treat me in this +way, to drag down the name of Worthington in the mire. I'll never +forgive him. I'll send for Dixon and leave the money for a hospital in +Brampton. Can't you suggest any way out of this, Flint?" + +"No," said Flint, "not now. The only chance you have is to ignore the +thing from now on. He may get tired of her--I've known such things to +happen." + +"When she hears that I've disinherited him, she will get tired of him," +declared Mr. Worthington. + +"Try it and see, if you like," said Flint. + +"Look here, Flint, if the woman has a spark of decent feeling, as you +seem to think, I'll send for her and tell her that she will ruin Robert +if she marries him." Mr. Worthington always spoke of his son as +"Robert." + +"You ought to have thought of that before the mass meeting. Perhaps it +would have done some good then." + +"Because this Penniman woman has stirred people up--is that what you +mean? I don't care anything about that. Money counts in the long run." + +"If money counted with this school-teacher, it would be a simple matter. +I think you'll find it doesn't." + +"I've known you to make some serious mistakes," snapped Mr. Worthington. + +"Then why do you ask for my advice?" + +"I'll send for her, and appeal to her better nature," said Mr. +Worthington, with an unconscious and sublime irony. + +Flint gave no sign that he heard. Mr. Worthington seated himself at his +desk, and after some thought wrote on a piece of note-paper the following +lines: "My dear Miss Wetherell, I should be greatly obliged if you would +find it convenient to call at my house at eight o'clock this evening," +and signed them," Sincerely Yours." He sealed them up in an envelope and +addressed it to Miss Wetherell, at the schoolhouse; and handed it to Mr. +Flint. That gentleman got as far as the door, and then he hesitated and +turned. + +"There is just one way out of this for you, that I can see, Mr. +Worthington," he said. "It's a desperate measure, but it's worth +thinking about." + +"What's that?" + +It took some courage for Mr. Flint, to make the suggestion. "The girl's +a good girl, well educated, and by no means bad looking. Bob might do a +thousand times worse. Give your consent to the marriage, and Jethro Bass +will go back to Coniston." + +It was wisdom such as few lords get from their seneschals, but Isaac D. +Worthington did not so recognize it. His anger rose and took away his +breath as he listened to it. + +"I will never give my consent to it, never--do you hear?--never. Send +that note!" he cried. + +Mr. Flint walked out, sent the note, and returned and took his place +silently at his own table. He was a man of concentration, and he put his +mind on the arguments he was composing to certain political leaders. Mr. +Worthington merely pretended to work as he waited for the answer to come +back. And presently, when it did come back, he tore it open and read it +with an expression not often on his lips. He flung the paper at Mr. +Flint. + +"Read that," he said. + +This is what Mr. Flint read: "Miss Wetherell begs to inform Mr. Isaac D. +Worthington that she can have no communication or intercourse with him +whatsoever." + +Mr. Flint handed it back without a word. His opinion of the school- +teacher had risen mightily, but he did not say so. Mr. Worthington took +the note, too, without a word. Speech was beyond him, and he crushed the +paper as fiercely as he would have liked to have crushed Cynthia, had she +been in his hands. + +One accomplishment which Cynthia had learned at Miss Sadler's school was +to write a letter in the third person, Miss Sadler holding that there +were occasions when it was beneath a lady's dignity to write a direct +note. And Cynthia, sitting at her little desk in the schoolhouse during +her recess, had deemed this one of the occasions. She could not bring +herself to write, "My dear Mr. Worthington." Her anger, when the note +had been handed to her, was for the moment so great that she could not go +on with her classes; but she had controlled it, and compelled Silas to +stand in the entry until recess, when she sat with her pen in her hand +until that happy notion of the third person occurred to her. And after +Silas had gone she sat still; though trembling a little at intervals, +picturing with some satisfaction Mr. Worthington's appearance when he +received her answer. Her instinct told her that he had received his +son's letter, and that he had sent for her to insult her. By sending for +her, indeed, he had insulted her irrevocably, and that is why she +trembled. + +Poor Cynthia! her troubles came thick and fast upon her in those days. +When she reached home, there was the letter which Ephraim had left on the +table addressed in the familiar, upright handwriting, and when Cynthia +saw it, she caught her hand sharply at her breast, as if the pain there +had stopped the beating of her heart. Well it was for Bob's peace of +mind that he could not see her as she read it, and before she had come to +the end there were drops on the sheets where the purple ink had run. How +precious would have been those drops to him! He would never give her up. +No mandate or decree could separate them--nothing but death. And he was +happier now so he told her--than he had been for months: happy in the +thought that he was going out into the world to win bread for her, as +became a man. Even if he had not her to strive for, he saw now that such +was the only course for him. He could not conform. + +It was a manly letter,--how manly Bob himself never knew. But Cynthia +knew, and she wept over it and even pressed it to her. lips--for there +was no one to see. Yes, she loved him as she would not have believed it +possible to love, and she sat through the afternoon reading his words and +repeating them until it seemed that he were there by her side, speaking +them. They came, untrammelled and undefiled, from his heart into hers. + +And now that he had quarrelled with his father for her sake, and was bent +with all the determination of his character upon making his own way in +the world, what was she to do? What was her duty? Not one letter of the +twoscore she had received (so she kept their count from day to day)--not +one had she answered. His faith had indeed been great. But she must +answer this: must write, too, on that subject of her dismissal, lest it +should be wrongly told him. He was rash in his anger, and fearless; this +she knew, and loved him for such qualities as he had. + +She must stay in Brampton and do her work,--so much was clearly her duty, +although she longed to flee from it. And at last she sat down and wrote +to him. Some things are too sacred to be set forth on a printed page, +and this letter is one of those things. Try as she would, she could not +find it in her heart at such a time to destroy his hope,--or her own. +The hope which she would not acknowledge, and the love which she strove +to conceal from him seeped up between the words of her letter like water +through grains of sand. Words, indeed, are but as grains of sand to +conceal strong feelings, and as Cynthia read the letter over she felt +that every line betrayed her, and knew that she could compose no lines +which would not. + +She said nothing of the summons which she had received that morning, or +of her answer; and her account of the matter of the dismissal and +reinstatement was brief and dignified, and contained no mention of Mr. +Worthington's name or agency. It was her duty, too, to rebuke Bob for +the quarrel with his father, to point out the folly of it, and the wrong, +and to urge him as strongly as she could to retract, though she felt that +all this was useless. And then--then came the betrayal of hope. She +could not ask him never to see her again, but she did beseech him for her +sake, and for the sake of that love which he had declared, not to attempt +to see her: not for a year, she wrote, though the word looked to her like +eternity. Her reasons, aside from her own scruples, were so obvious, +while she taught in Brampton, that she felt that he would consent to +banishment--until the summer holidays in July, at least: and then she +would be in Coniston,--and would have had time to decide upon future +steps. A reprieve was all she craved,--a reprieve in which to reflect, +for she was in no condition to reflect now. Of one thing she was sure, +that it would not be right at this time to encourage him although she had +a guilty feeling that the letter had given him encouragement in spite of +all the prohibitions it contained. "If, in the future years," thought +Cynthia, as she sealed the envelope, "he persists in his determination, +what then?" You, Miss Lucretia, of all people in the world, have planted +the seeds with your talk about Genesis! + +The letter was signed "One who will always remain your friend, Cynthia +Wetherell." And she posted it herself. + +When Ephraim came home to supper that evening, he brought the Brampton +Clarion, just out, and in it was an account of Miss Lucretia Penniman's +speech at the mass meeting, and of her visit, and of her career. It was +written in Mr. Page's best vein, and so laudatory was it that we shall +have to spare Miss Lucretia in not repeating it here: yes, and omit the +encomiums, too, on the teacher of the Brampton lower school. Mr. +Worthington was not mentioned, and for this, at least, Cynthia drew along +breath of relief, though Ephraim was of the opinion that the first +citizen should have been scored as he deserved, and held up to the +contempt of his fellow-townsmen. The dismissal of the teacher, indeed, +was put down to a regrettable misconception on the part of "one of the +prudential committee," who had confessed his mistake in "a manly and +altogether praiseworthy speech." The article was as near the truth, +perhaps, as the Clarions may come on such matters--which is not very +near. Cynthia would have been better pleased if Mr. Page had spared his +readers the recital of her qualities, and she did not in the least +recognize the paragon whom Miss Lucretia had befriended and defended. +She was thankful that Mr. Page did pot state that the celebrity had come +up from Boston on her account. Miss Penniman had been "actuated by a +sudden desire to see once more the beauties of her old home, to look into +the faces of the old friends who had followed her career with such +pardonable pride." The speech of the president of the literary club, you +may be sure, was printed in full, for Mr. Ives himself had taken the +trouble to write it out for the editor--by request, of course. + +Cynthia turned over the sheet, and read many interesting items: one +concerning the beauty and fashion and intellect which attended the party +at Mr. Gamaliel Ives's; in the Clovelly notes she saw that Miss Judy +Hatch, of Coniston, was visiting relatives there; she learned the output +of the Worthington Mills for the past week. Cynthia was about to fold up +the paper and send it to Miss Lucretia, whom she thought it would amuse, +when her eyes were arrested by the sight of a familiar name. + + "Jethro Bass come to life again. + From the State Tribune." + +That was the heading. "One of the greatest political surprises in many +years was the arrival in the capital on Wednesday of Judge Bass, whom it +was thought, had permanently retired from politics. This, at least, +seems to have been the confident belief of a faction in the state who +have at heart the consolidation of certain lines of railroads. Judge +Bass was found by a Tribune reporter in the familiar Throne Room at the +Pelican, but, as usual, he could not be induced to talk for publication. +He was in conference throughout the afternoon with several well-known +leaders from the North Country. The return of Jethro Bass to activity +seriously complicates the railroad situation, and many prominent +politicians are freely predicting to-night that, in spite of the town- +meeting returns, the proposed bill for consolidation will not go through. +Judge Bass is a man of such remarkable personality that he has regained +at a stroke much of the influence that he lost by the sudden and +unaccountable retirement which electrified the state some months since. +His reappearance, the news of which was the one topic in all political +centres yesterday, is equally unaccountable. It is hinted that some +action on the part of Isaac D. Worthington has brought Jethro Bass to +life. They are known to be bitter enemies, and it is said that Jethro +Bass has but one object in returning to the field--to crush the president +of the Truro Railroad. Another theory is that the railroads and +interests opposed to the consolidation have induced Judge Bass to take +charge of their fight for them. All indications point to the fiercest +struggle the state has ever seen in June, when the Legislature meets. +The Tribune, whose sentiments are well known to be opposed to the +iniquity of consolidation, extends a hearty welcome to the judge. No +state, we believe, can claim a party leader of a higher order of ability +than Jethro Bass." + +Cynthia dropped the paper in her lap, and sat very still. This, then, +was what happened when Jethro had heard of her dismissal--he had left +Coniston without writing her a word and passed through Brampton without +seeing her. He had gone back to that life which he had abandoned for her +sake; the temptation had been too strong, the desire for vengeance too +great. He had not dared to see her. And yet the love for her which had +been strong enough to make him renounce the homage of men, and even incur +their ridicule, had incited him to this very act of vengeance. + +What should she do now, indeed? Had those peaceful and happy Saturdays +and Sundays in Coniston passed away forever? Should she follow him to +the capital and appeal to him? Ah no, she felt that were a useless pain +to them both. She believed, now, that he had gone away from her for all +time, that the veil of limitless space was set between, them. Silently +she arose,--so silently that Ephraim, dozing by the fire, did not awake. +She went into her own room and wept, and after many hours fell into a +dreamless sleep of sheer exhaustion. + +The days passed, and the weeks; the snow ran from the brown fields, and +melted at length even in the moist crotches under the hemlocks of the +northern slopes; the robin and bluebird came, the hillsides were mottled +with exquisite shades of green, and the scent of fruit blossom and balm +of Gilead was in the air. June came as a maiden and grew into womanhood. +But Jethro Bass did not return to Coniston. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +The legends which surround the famous war which we are about to touch +upon are as dim as those of Troy or Tuscany. Decorous chronicles and +biographies and monographs and eulogies exist, bound in leather and +stamped in gold, each lauding its own hero: chronicles written in really +beautiful language, and high-minded and noble, out of which the heroes +come unstained. Horatius holds the bridge, and not a dent in his armor; +and swims the Tiber without getting wet or muddy. Castor and Pollux +fight in the front rank at Lake Regillus, in the midst of all that gore +and slaughter, and emerge all white and pure at the end of the day--but +they are gods. + +Out of the classic wars to which we have referred sprang the great Roman +Republic and Empire, and legend runs into authentic and written history. +Just so, parva componere magnis, out of the cloud-wrapped conflicts of +the five railroads of which our own Gaul is composed, emerged one +imperial railroad, authentically and legally written down on the statute +books, for all men to see. We cannot go behind that statute except to +collect the legends and write homilies about the heroes who held the +bridges. + +If we were not in mortal terror of the imperial power, and a little +fearful, too, of tiring our readers, we would write out all the legends +we have collected of this first fight for consolidation, and show the +blood, too. + +In the statute books of a certain state may be found a number of laws +setting forth the various things that a railroad or railroads may do, and +on the margin of these pages is invariably printed a date, that being the +particular year in which these laws were passed. By a singular +coincidence it is the very year at which we have now arrived in our +story. We do not intend to give a map of the state, or discuss the +merits or demerits of the consolidation of the Central and the +Northwestern and the Truro railroads. Such discussions are not the +province of a novelist, and may all be found in the files of the Tribune +at the State Library. There were, likewise, decisions without number +handed down by the various courts before and after that celebrated +session,--opinions on the validity of leases, on the extension of +railroads, on the rights of individual stockholders--all dry reading +enough. + +At the risk of being picked to pieces by the corporation lawyers who may +read these pages, we shall attempt to state the situation and with all +modesty and impartiality--for we, at least, hold no brief. When Mr. +Isaac D. Worthington obtained that extension of the Truro Railroad (which +we have read about from the somewhat verdant point of view of William +Wetherell), that railroad then formed a connection with another road +which ran northward from Harwich through another state, and with which we +have nothing to do. Having previously purchased a line to the southward +from the capital, Mr. Worthington's railroad was in a position to compete +with Mr. Duncan's (the "Central") for Canadian traffic, and also to cut +into the profits of the "Northwestern," Mr. Lovejoy's road. In brief, +the Truro Railroad found itself very advantageously placed, as Mr. +Worthington and Mr. Flint had foreseen. There followed a period of +bickering and recrimination, of attempts of the other two railroads to +secure representation in the Truro directorate, of suits and injunctions +and appeals to the Legislature and I know not what else--in all of which +affairs Mr. Bijah Bixby and other gentlemen we could name found both +pleasure and remuneration. + +Oh, that those halcyon days of the little wars would come again, when a +captain could ride out almost any time at the held of his band of +mercenaries and see honest fighting and divide honest spoils! There was +much knocking about of men and horses, but very little bloodshed, so we +are told. Mr. Bixby will sit on the sunny side of his barns in Clovelly +and tell you stories of that golden period with tears in his eyes, when +he went to conventions with a pocketful of proxies from the river towns, +and controlled in the greatest legislative year of all a "block" which +included the President of the Senate, for which he got the fabulous sum +of ----. He will tell you, but I won't. Mr. Bixby's occupation is gone +now. We have changed all that, and we are ruled from imperial Rome. If +you don't do right, they cut off your (political) head, and it is of no +use to run away, because there is no one to run to. + +It was Isaac D. Worthington--or shall we say Mr. Flint?--who was +responsible for this pernicious change for the worse, who conceived the +notion of leasing for the Truro the Central and the Northwestern,--thus +making one railroad out of the three. If such a gigantic undertaking +could be got through, Mr. Worthington very rightly deemed that the other +railroads of the state would eventually fall like ripe fruit into their +caps--owning the ground under the tree, as they would. A movement, which +we need not go unto, was first made upon the courts, and for a while +adverse decisions came down like summer rain. A genius by the name of +Jethro Bass had for many years presided (in the room of the governor and +council at the State House) at the political birth of justices of the +Supreme Court. None of them actually wore livery, but we have seen one +of them--along time ago--in a horse blanket. None of them were favorable +to the plans of Mr. Worthington and Mr. Duncan. + +We have listened to the firing on the skirmish lines for a long time, and +now the real battle is at hand. It is June, and the Legislature is +meeting, and Bijah Bixby has come down to the capital at the head of his +regiment of mercenaries, of which Mr. Sutton is the honorary colonel; the +clans are here from the north, well quartered and well fed; the Throne +Room, within the sacred precincts of which we have been before, is +occupied. But there is another headquarters now, too, in the Pelican +House--a Railroad Room; larger than the Throne Room, with a bath-room +leading out of it. Another old friend of ours, Judge Abner Parkinson of +Harwich, he who gave the sardonic laugh when Sam Price applied for the +post of road agent, may often be seen in that Railroad Room from now on. +The fact is that the judge is about to become famous far beyond the +confines of Harwich; for he, and none other, is the author of the +Consolidation Bill itself. + +Mr. Flint is the generalissimo of the allied railroads, and sits in his +headquarters early and late, going over the details of the campaign with +his lieutenants; scanning the clauses of the bill with Judge Parkinson +for the last time, and giving orders to the captains of mercenaries as to +the disposition of their forces; writing out passes for the deserving and +the true. For these latter, also, and for the wavering there is a claw- +hammer on the marble-topped mantel wielded by Mr. Bijah Bixby, pro tem +chief of staff--or of the hammer, for he is self-appointed and very +useful. He opens the mysterious packing cases which come up to the +Railroad Room thrice a week, and there is water to be had in the bath- +room--and glasses. Mr. Bixby also finds time to do some of the scouting +about the rotunda and lobbies, for which he is justly celebrated, and to +drill his regiment every day. The Honorable Heth Sutton, M.C.,--who held +the bridge in the Woodchuck Session,--is there also, sitting in a corner, +swelled with importance, smoking big Florizel cigars which come from-- +somewhere. There are, indeed, many great and battle-scarred veterans who +congregate in that room--too numerous and great to mention; and +saunterers in the Capitol Park opposite know when a council of war is +being held by the volumes of smoke which pour out of the window, just as +the Romans are made cognizant by the smoking of a chimney of when another +notable event takes place. + +Who, then, are left to frequent the Throne Room? Is that ancient seat of +power deserted, and does Jethro Bass sit there alone behind the curtains, +in his bitterness, thinking of other bright June days that are gone? + +Of all those who had been amazed when Jethro Bass suddenly emerged from +his retirement and appeared in the capital some months before, none were +more thunderstruck than certain gentlemen who had been to Coniston +repeatedly, but in vain, to urge him to make this very fight. The most +important of these had been Mr. Balch, president of the "Down East" Road, +and the representatives of two railroads of another state. They had at +last offered Jethro fabulous sums to take charge of their armies in the +field--sums, at least, that would seem fabulous to many people, and had +seemed so to them. When they heard that the lion had roused and shaken +himself and had unaccountably come forth of his own accord, they hastened +to the state capital to renew their offers. Another shock, but of a +different kind, was in store for them. Mr. Balch had not actually driven +the pack-mules, laden with treasure, to the door of the Pelican House, +where Jethro might see them from his window; but he requested a private +audience, and it was probably accidental that the end of his personal +check-book protruded a little from his pocket. He was a big, coarse- +grained man, Mr. Balch, who had once been a brakeman, and had risen by +what is known as horse sense to the presidency of his road. There was a +wonderful sunset beyond the Capitol, but Mr. Balch did not talk about the +sunset, although Jethro was watching it from behind the curtains. + +"If you are willing to undertake this fight against consolidation," said +Mr. Balch, "we are ready to talk business with you." + +"D-don't know what you're going to, do," answered Jethro; "I'm going to +prevent consolidation, if I can." + +"All right," said Balch, smiling. He regarded this reply as one of +Jethro's delicate euphemisms. "We're prepared to give that same little +retainer." + +Jethro did not look up. Mr. Balch went to the table and seized a pen and +filled out a check for an amount that shall be nameless. + +"I have made it payable to bearer, as usual," he said, and he handed it +to Jethro. + +Jethro took it, and absently tore it into little pieces, and threw the +pieces on the floor. Mr. Balch watched him in consternation. He began +to think the report that Jethro had reached his second childhood was +true. + +"What in Halifax are you doing, Bass?" he cried. + +"W-want to stop this consolidation, don't you--want' to stop it?" + +"Certainly I do." + +"G-goin' to do all you can to stop it hain't you?" + +"Certainly I am." + +"I-I'll help you," said Jethro. + +"Help us!" exclaimed Balch. "Great Scott, we want you to take charge of +it." + +"I-I'll do all I can, but I won't guarantee it--w-won't guarantee it," +said Jethro. + +"We don't ask you to guarantee it. If you'll do all you can, that's +enough. You won't take a retainer?" + +"W-won't take anything," said Jethro. + +"You mean to say you don't want anything for your for your time and your +services if the bill is defeated?" + +"T-that's about it, Ed. Little p-private matter with both of us. You +don't want consolidation, and I don't. I hain't offered to give you a +retainer--have I?" + +"No," said the astounded Mr. Balch. He scratched his head and fingered +the leaves of his check-book. The captains over the tens and the +captains over the hundreds would want little retainers--and who was to +pay these? "How about the boys?" asked Mr. Balch. + +"S-still got the same office in the depot--hain't you, Ed, s-same +office?" + +"Yes." + +"G-guess the boys hev b'en there before," said Jethro. + +Mr. Balch went away, meditating upon those sayings, and took the train +for Boston. If he had waked up of a fine morning to find himself at the +head of some benevolent and charitable organization, instead of the "Down +East" Railroad, he could not have been more astonished than he had been +at the unaccountable change of heart of Jethro Bass. He did not know +what to make of it, and told his colleagues so; and at first they feared +one of two things,--treachery or lunacy. But a little later a rumor +reached Mr. Balch's ears that Jethro's hatred of Isaac D. Worthington was +at the bottom of his reappearance in public life, although Jethro himself +never mentioned Mr. Worthington's name. Jethro sat in the Throne Room, +consulting, directing day after day, and when the Legislature assembled, +"the boys" began to call at Mr. Balch's office. But Mr. Balch never +again broached the subject of money to Jethro Bass. + +We have to sing the song of sixpence for the last time in these pages; +and as it is an old song now, there will be no encores. If you can buy +one member of the lower house for ten dollars, how many members can you +buy for fifty? It was no such problem in primary arithmetic that Mr. +Balch and his associates had to solve--theirs was in higher mathematics, +in permutations and combinations, and in least squares. No wonder the +old campaigners speak with tears in their eyes of the days of that ever +memorable summer. There were spoils to be picked up in the very streets +richer than the sack of the thirty cities; and as the session wore on it +is affirmed by men still living that money rained down in the Capitol +Park and elsewhere like manna from the skies, if you were one of a chosen +band. If you were, all you had to do was to look in your vest pockets +when you took your clothes off in the evening and extract enough legal +tender to pay your bill at the Pelican for a week. Mr. Lovejoy having +been overheard one day to make a remark concerning the diet of hogs, the +next morning certain visitors to the capital were horrified to discover +trails of corn leading from the Pelican House to their doorways. Men who +had never seen a receiving teller opened bank accounts. No, it was not a +problem in simple arithmetic, and Mr. Balch and Mr. Flint, and even Mr. +Duncan and Mr. Worthington, covered whole sheets with figures during the +stifling days in July. Some men are so valuable that they can be bought +twice, or even three times, and they make figuring complicated. + +Jethro Bass did no calculating. He sat behind the curtains, and he must +have kept the figures in his head. + +The battle had closed in earnest, and for twelve long, sultry weeks it +raged with unabated fierceness. Consolidation had a terror for the rural +mind, and the state Tribune skilfully played its stream upon the +constituents of those gentlemen who stood tamely at the Worthington +hitching-posts, and the constituents flocked to the capital; that able +newspaper, too, found space to return, with interest, the attacks of Mr. +Worthington's organ, the Newcastle Guardian. These amenities are much +too personal to reproduce here, now that the smoke of battle has rolled +away. An epic could be written upon the conflict, if there were space: +Canto One, the first position carried triumphantly, though at some +expense, by the Worthington forces, who elect the Speaker. That had been +a crucial time before the town meetings, when Jethro abdicated. The +Worthington Speaker goes ahead with his committees, and it is needless to +say that Mr. Chauncey Weed is not made Chairman of the Committee on +Corporations. As an offset to this, the Jethro forces gain on the +extreme right, where the Honorable Peleg Hartington is made President of +the Senate, etc. + +For twelve hot weeks, with a public spirit which is worthy of the highest +praise, the Committee sit in their shirt sleeves all day long and listen +to arguments for and against consolidation; and ask learned questions +that startle rural witnesses; and smoke big Florizel cigars (a majority +of them). Judge Abner Parkinson defends his bill, quoting from the +Constitution and the Declaration of Independence and the Bible; a +celebrated lawyer from the capital riddles it, using the same +authorities, and citing the Federalist and the Golden Rule in addition. +The Committee sit open-minded, listening with laudable impartiality; it +does not become them to arrive at a hasty decision on a question of such +magnitude. In the meantime the House passes an important bill dealing +with the bounty on hedgehogs, and there are several card games going on +in the cellar, where it is cool. + +The governor of the state is a free lance, and may be seen any afternoon +walking through the park, consorting with no one. He may be recognized +even at a distance by his portly figure, his silk hat, and his dignified +mien. Yes, it is an old and valued friend, the Honorable Alva Hopkins, +patron of the drama, and sometimes he has a beautiful young woman (still +unattached) by his side. He lives in a suite of rooms at the Pelican. +It is a well-known fact (among Mr. Worthington's supporters) that the +Honorable Alva promised in January, when Mr. Bass retired, to sign the +Consolidation Bill, and that he suddenly became open-minded in March, and +has remained open-minded ever since, listening gravely to arguments, and +giving much study to the subject. He is an executive now, although it is +the last year of his term, and of course he is never seen either in the +Throne Room or the Railroad Room. And besides, he may become a senator. + +August has come, and the forces are spent and panting, and neither side +dares to risk the final charge. The reputation of Jethro Bass is at +stake. Should he risk and lose, he must go back to Coniston a beaten +man, subject to the contempt of his neighbors and his state. People do +not know that he has nothing now to go back to, and that he cares nothing +for contempt. As he sits in his window day after day he has only one +thought and one wish,--to ruin Isaac D. Worthington. And he will do it +if he can. Those who know--and among them is Mr. Balch himself--say that +Jethro has never conducted a more masterly campaign than this, and that +all the others have been mere childish trials of strength compared to it. +So he sits there through those twelve weeks while the session slips by, +while his opponents grumble, and while even his supporters, eager for the +charge, complain. The truth is that in all the years of his activity be +has never had such an antagonist as Mr. Flint. Victory hangs in the +balance, and a false move will throw it to either side. + +Victory hangs now, to be explicit, upon two factors. The first and most +immediate of these is a certain canny captain of many wars whose regiment +is still at the disposal of either army--for a price, a regiment which +has hitherto remained strictly neutral. And what a regiment it is! A +block of river towns and a senator, and not a casualty since they marched +boldly into camp twelve weeks ago. Mr. Batch is getting very much +worried about this regiment, and beginning to doubt Jethro's judgment. + +"I tell you, Bass," he said one evening, "if you allow him to run around +loose much longer, we're lost, that's all there is to it!" (Mr. Batch +referred to the captain in question.) "They'll buy up his block at his +figure--see, if they don't. They're getting desperate. Don't you think +I'd better bid him in?" + +"B-bid him in if you've a mind to; Ed." + +"Look here, Jethro," said Mr. Batch, savagely biting off the end of a +cigar, "I'm beginning to think you don't care a continental about this +business. Which side are you on, anyway?" The heat and the length and +the uncertainty of the struggle were telling on the nerves of the +railroad president. "You sit there from morning till night and won't say +anything; and now, when there's only one block out, you won't give the +word to buy it." + +"N-never told you to buy anything, did I--Ed?" + +"No," answered Mr. Batch, "you haven't. I don't know what the devil's +got into you." + +"D-done all the payin' without consultin' me, hain't you, Ed?" + +"Yes; I have. What are you driving at?" + +"D-done it if I hadn't b'en here, wouldn't you?" + +"Yes, and more too," said Mr. Batch. + +"W-wouldn't make much difference to you if I wasn't here--would it?" + +"Great Scott, Jethro, what do you mean?" cried the railroad president, in +genuine alarm; "you're not going to pull out, are you?" + +"W-wouldn't make much odds if I did--would it, Ed?" + +"The devil it wouldn't!" exclaimed Mr. Balch. "If you pulled out, we'd +lose the North Country, and Peleg, and Gosport, and nobody can tell which +way Alva Hopkins will swing. I guess you know what he'll do--you're so +d--d secretive I can't tell whether you do or not. If you pulled out, +they'd have their bill on Friday." + +"H-hain't under any obligations to you, Ed--am I?" + +"No," said Mr. Batch, "but I don't see why you keep harping on that." + +"J-dust wanted to have it clear," said Jethro, and relapsed into silence. + +There was a fireproof carpet on the Throne Room, and Mr. Batch flung down +his cigar and stamped on it and went out. No wonder he could not +understand Jethro's sudden scruples about money and obligations--about +railroad money, that is. Jethro was spending some of his own, but not in +the capital, and in a manner which was most effective. In short, at the +very moment when Mr. Batch stamped on his cigar, Jethro had the victory +in his hands--only he did not choose to say so. He had had a mysterious +telegram that day from Harwich, signed by Chauncey Weed, and Mr. Weed +himself appeared at the door of Number 7, fresh from his travels, shortly +after Mr. Batch had gone out of it. Mr. Weed closed the door gently, and +locked it, and sat down in a rocking chair close to Jethro and put his +hand over his mouth. We cannot hear what Mr. Weed is saying. All is +mystery here, and in order to preserve that mystery we shall delay for a +little the few words which will explain Mr. Weed's successful mission. + +Mr. Batch, angry and bewildered, descended into the rotunda, where he +shortly heard two astounding pieces of news. The first was that the +Honorable Heth Sutton had abandoned the Florizel cigars and had gone home +to Clovelly. The second; that Mr. Bijah Bixby had resigned the claw- +hammer and had ceased to open the packing cases in the Railroad Room. +Consternation reigned in that room, so it was said (and this was true). +Mr. Worthington and Mr. Duncan and Mr. Lovejoy were closeted there with +Mr. Flint, and the door was locked and the transom shut, and smoke was +coming out of the windows. + +Yes, Mr. Bijah Bixby is the canny captain of whom Mr. Balch spoke: he it +is who owns that block of river towns, intact, and the one senator. +Impossible! We have seen him opening the packing cases, we have seen him +working for the Worthington faction for the last two years. Mr. Bixby +was very willing to open boxes, and to make himself useful and agreeable; +but it must be remembered that a good captain of mercenaries owes a +sacred duty to his followers. At first Mr. Flint had thought he could +count on Mr. Bixby; after a while he made several unsuccessful attempts +to talk business with him; a particularly difficult thing to do, even for +Mr. Flint, when Mr. Bixby did not wish to talk business. Mr. Balch had +found it quite as difficult to entice Mr. Bixby away from the boxes and +the Railroad Room. The weeks drifted on, until twelve went by, and then +Mr. Bixby found himself, with his block of river towns and one senator, +in the incomparable position of being the arbiter of the fate of the +Consolidation Bill in the House and Senate. No wonder Mr. Balch wanted +to buy the services of that famous regiment at any price! + +But Mr. Bixby, for once in his life, had waited too long. + +When Mr. Balch, rejoicing, but not a little indignant at not having been +taken into confidence, ascended to the Throne Room after supper to +question Jethro concerning the meaning of the things he had heard, he +found Senator Peleg Hartington seated mournfully on the bed, talking at +intervals, and Jethro listening. + +"Come up and eat out of my hand," said the senator. + +"Who?" demanded Mr. Balch. + +"Bije," answered the senator. + +"Great Scott, do you mean to say you've got Bixby?" exclaimed the +railroad president. He felt as if he would like to shake the senator, +who was so deliberate and mournful in his answers. "What did you pay +him?" + +Mr. Hartington appeared shocked by the question. + +"Guess Heth Sutton will settle with him," he said. + +"Heth Sutton! Why the--why should Heth pay him?" + +"Guess Heth'd like to make him a little present, under the circumstances. +I was goin' through the barber shop," Mr. Hartington continued, speaking +to Jethro and ignoring the railroad president, "and I heard somebody +whisperin' my name. Sound came out of that little shampoo closet; went +in there and found Bije. 'Peleg,' says he, right into my ear, 'tell +Jethro it's all right--you understand. We want Heth to go back--break +his heart if he didn't--you understand. If I'd knowed last winter Jethro +meant business, I wouldn't hev' helped Gus Flint out. Tell Jethro he can +have 'em--you know what I mean.' Bije waited a little mite too long," +said the senator, who had given a very fair imitation of Mr. Bixby's +nasal voice and manner. + +"Well, I'm d--d!" ejaculated Mr. Balch, staring at Jethro. "How did you +work it?" + +"Sent Chauncey through the deestrict," said Mr. Hartington. + +Mr. Chauncey Weed had, in truth, gone through a part of the congressional +district of the Honorable Heth Sutton with a little leather bag. Mr. +Weed had been able to do some of his work (with the little leather bag) +in the capital itself. In this way Mr. Bixby's regiment, Sutton was the +honorary colonel, had been attacked in the rear and routed. Here was to +be a congressional convention that autumn, and a large part of Mr. +Sutton's district lay in the North Country, which, as we have seen, was +loyal to Jethro to the back bone. The district, too, was largely rural, +and therefore anti-consolidation, and the inability of the Worthington +forces to get their bill through had made it apparent that Jethro Bass +was as powerful as ever. Under these circumstances it had not been very +difficult for a gentleman of Mr. Chauncey Weed's powers of persuasion to +induce various lieutenants in the district to agree to send delegates to +the coming convention who would be conscientiously opposed to Mr. Sutton's +renomination: hence the departure from the capital of Mr. Sutton; hence +the generous offer of Mr. Bixby to put his regiment at the disposal of +Mr. Bass--free of charge. + +The second factor on which victory hung (we can use the past tense now) +was none other than his Excellency Alva Hopkins, governor of the state. +The bill would never get to his Excellency now--so people said; would +never get beyond that committee who had listened so patiently to the +twelve weeks of argument. These were only rumors, after all, for the +rotunda never knows positively what goes on in high circles; but the +rotunda does figuring, too, when at length the problem is reduced to a +simple equation, with Bijah Bixby as x. If it were true that Bijah had +gone over to Jethro Bass, the Consolidation Bill was dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +When Jethro Bass walked out of the hotel that evening men looked at him, +and made way for him, but none spoke to him. There was something in his +face that forbade speech. He was a great man once more--a greater man +than ever; and he had, if the persistent rumors were true, accomplished +an almost incomprehensible feat, even for Jethro Bass. There was another +reason, too, why they stared at him. In all those twelve weeks of that +most trying of all sessions he had not once gone into the street, and he +had been less than ever common in the eyes of men. Twice a day he had +descended to the dining room for a simple meal--that was all; and fewer +had gained entrance to Room Number 7 this session than ever before. + +There is a river that flows by the capital, a wide and gentle river +bordered by green meadows and fringed with willows; higher up, if you go +far enough, a forest comes down to the water on the western side. Jethro +walked through the hooded bridge, and up the eastern bank until he could +see the forest like a black band between the orange sky and the orange +river, and there he sat down upon a fallen log on the edge of the bank. +But Jethro was thinking of another scene,--of a granite-ribbed pasture on +Coniston Mountain that swings in limitless space, from either end of +which a man may step off into eternity. William Wetherell, in one of his +letters, had described that place as the Threshold of the Nameless +Worlds, and so it had seemed to Jethro in the years of his desolation. +He was thinking of it now, even as it had been in his mind that winter's +evening when Cynthia had come to Coniston and had surprised him with that +look of terrible loneliness on his face. + +Yes, and he was thinking of Cynthia. When, indeed, had he not been +thinking of her? How many tunes had he rehearsed the events in the +tannery house--for they were the events of his life now. The triumphs +over his opponents and enemies fell away, and the pride of power. Such +had not been his achievements. She had loved him, and no man had reached +a higher pinnacle than that. + +Why he had forfeited that love for vengeance, he could not tell. The +embers of a man's passions will suddenly burst into flame, and he will +fiddle madly while the fire burns his soul. He had avenged her as well +as himself; but had he avenged her, now that he held Isaac Worthington in +his power? By crushing him, had he not added to her trouble and her +sorrow? She had confessed that she loved Isaac Worthington's son, and +was not he (Jethro) widening the breach between Cynthia and the son by +crushing the father? Jethro had not thought of this. But he had thought +of her, night and day, as he had sat in his room directing the battle. +Not a day had passed that he had not looked for a letter, hoping against +hope. If she had written to him once, if she had come to him once, would +he have desisted? He could not say--the fires of hatred had burned so +fiercely, and still burned so fiercely, that he clenched his fists when +it came over him that Isaac Worthington was at last in his power. + +A white line above the forest was all that remained of the sunset when he +rose up and took from his coat a silver locket and opened it and held it +to the fading light. Presently he closed it again, and walked slowly +along the river bank toward the little city twinkling on its hill. He +crossed the hooded bridge and climbed the slope, stopping for a moment at +a little stationery shop; he passed through the groups which were still +loudly discussing this thing he had done, and gained his room and locked +the door. Men came to it and knocked and got no answer. The room was in +darkness, and the night breeze stirred among the trees in the park and +blew in at the window. + +At last Jethro got up and lighted the gas and paused at the centre table. +He was to violate more than one principle of his life that night, though +not without a struggle; and he sat for a long while looking at the blank +paper before him. Then he wrote, and sealed the letter--which contained +three lines--and pulled the bell cord. The call was answered by a +messenger who had been far many years in the service of the Pelican +House, and who knew many secrets of the gods. The man actually grew pale +when he saw the address on the envelope which was put in his hand and +read the denomination of the crisp note under it that was the price of +silence. + +"F-find the gentleman and give it to him yourself. Er--John?" + +"Yes, Mr. Bass?" + +"If you don't find him, bring it--back." + +When the man had gone, Jethro turned down the gas and went again to his +chair by the window. For a while voices came up to him from the street, +but at length the groups dispersed, one by one; and a distant clock +boomed out eleven solemn strokes. Twice the clock struck again, at the +half-hour and midnight, and the noises in the house--the banging of doors +and the jangling of keys and the hurrying of feet in the corridors--were +hushed. Jethro took no thought of these or of time, and sat gazing at +the stars in the depths of the sky above the capital dome until a shadow +emerged from the black mass of the trees opposite and crossed the street. +In a few minutes there were footsteps in the corridor,--stealthy +footsteps--and a knock on the door. Jethro got up and opened it, and +closed it again and locked it. Then he turned up the gas. + +"S-sit down," he said, and nodded his head toward the chair by the table. + +Isaac Worthington laid his silk hat on the table, and sat down. He +looked very haggard and worn in that light, very unlike the first citizen +who had entered Brampton in triumph on his return from the West not many +months before. The long strain of a long fight, in which he had risked +much for which he had labored a life to gain, had told on him, and there +were crow's-feet at the corners of, his eyes, and dark circles under +them. Isaac Worthington had never lost before, and to destroy the fruits +of such a man's ambition is to destroy the man. He was not as young as +he had once been. But now, in the very hour of defeat, hope had +rekindled the fire in the eyes and brought back the peculiar, tight- +lipped, mocking smile to the mouth. An hour ago, when he had been pacing +Alexander Duncan's library, the eyes and the mouth had been different. + +Long habit asserts itself at the strangest moments. Jethro Bass took his +seat by the window, and remained silent. The clock tolled the half-hour +after midnight. + +"You wanted to see me," said Mr. Worthington, finally. + +Jethro nodded, almost imperceptibly. + +"I suppose," said Mr. Worthington, slowly, "I suppose you are ready to +sell out." He found it a little difficult to control his voice. + +"Yes," answered Jethro, "r-ready to sell out." + +Mr. Worthington was somewhat taken aback by this simple admission. He +glanced at Jethro sitting motionless by the window, and in his heart he +feared him: he had come into that room when the gas was low, afraid. +Although he would not confess it to himself, he had been in fear of +Jethro Bass all his life, and his fear had been greater than ever since +the March day when Jethro had left Coniston. And could he have known, +now, the fires of hatred burning in Jethro's breast, Isaac Worthington +would have been in terror indeed. + +"What have you got to sell?" he demanded sharply. + +"G-guess you know, or you wouldn't have come here." + +"What proof have I that you have it to sell?" + +Jethro looked at him for an instant. + +"M-my word," he said. + +Isaac Worthington was silent for a while: he was striving to calm +himself, for an indefinable something had shaken him. The strange +stillness of the hour and the stranger atmosphere which seemed to +surround this transaction filled him with a nameless dread. The man in +the window had been his lifelong enemy: more than this, Jethro Bass, was +not like ordinary men--his ways were enshrouded in mystery, and when he +struck, he struck hard. There grew upon Isaac Worthington a sense that +this midnight hour was in some way to be the culmination of the long +years of hatred between them. + +He believed Jethro: he would have believed him even if Mr. Flint had not +informed him that afternoon that he was beaten, and bitterly he wished he +had taken Mr. Flint's advice many months before. Denunciation sprang to +his lips which he dared not utter. He was beaten, and he must pay--the +pound of flesh. Isaac Worthington almost thought it would be a pound of +flesh. + +"How much do you want?" he said. + +Again Jethro looked at him. + +"B-biggest price you can pay," he answered. + +"You must have made up your mind what you want. You've had time enough." + +"H-have made up my mind," said Jethro. + +"Make your demand," said Mr. Worthington, "and I'll give you my answer." + +"B-biggest price you can pay," said Jethro, again. + +Mr. Worthington's nerves could stand it no longer. + +"Look here," he cried, rising in his chair, "if you've brought me here to +trifle with me, you've made a mistake. It's your business to get control +of things that belong to other people, and sell them out. I am here to +buy. Nothing but necessity brings me here, and nothing but necessity +will keep me here a moment longer than I have to stay to finish this +abominable affair. I am ready to pay you twenty thousand dollars the day +that bill becomes a law." + +This time Jethro did not look at him. + +"P-pay me now," he said. + +"I will pay you the day the bill becomes a law. Then I shall know where +I stand." + +Jethro did not answer this ultimatum in any manner, but remained +perfectly still looking out of the window. Mr. Worthington glanced at +him, twice, and got his fingers on the brim of his hat, but he did not +pick it up. He stood so for a while, knowing full well that if he went +out of that room his chance was gone. Consolidation might come in other +years, but he, Isaac Worthington, would not be a factor in it. + +"You don't want a check, do you?" he said at last. + +"No--d-don't want a check." + +"What in God's name do you want? I haven't got twenty thousand dollars +in currency in my pocket." + +"Sit down, Isaac Worthington," said Jethro. + +Mr. Worthington sat down--out of sheer astonishment, perhaps. + +"W-want the consolidation--don't you? Want it bad--don't you?" + +Mr. Worthington did, not answer. Jethro stood over him now, looking down +at him from the other side of the narrow table. + +"Know Cynthy Wetherell?" he said. + +Then Isaac Worthington understood that his premonitions had been real. +The pound of flesh was to be demanded, but strangely enough, he did not +yet comprehend the nature of it. + +"I know that there is such a person," he answered, for his pride would +not permit him to say more. + +"W-what do you know about her?" + +Isaac Worthington was bitterly angry--the more so because he was +helpless, and could not question Jethro's right to ask. What did he know +about her? Nothing, except that she had intrigued to marry his son. +Bob's letter had described her, to be sure, but he could not be expected +to believe that: and he had not heard Miss Lucretia Penniman's speech. +And yet he could not tell Jethro that he knew nothing about her, for he +was shrewd enough to perceive the drift of the next question. + +"Kn-know anything against her?" said Jethro. + +Mr. Worthington leaned back in his chair. + +"I can't see what Miss Wetherell has to do with the present occasion," he +replied. + +"H-had her dismissed by the prudential committee had her dismissed-- +didn't you?" + +"They chose to act as they saw fit." + +"T-told Levi Dodd to dismiss her--didn't you?" + +That was a matter of common knowledge in Brampton, having leaked out +through Jonathan Hill. + +"I must decline to discuss this," said Mr. Worthington. + +"W-wouldn't if I was you." + +"What do you mean?" + +"What I say. T-told Levi Dodd to dismiss her, didn't you?" + +"Yes, I did." Isaac Worthington had lost in self-esteem by not saying so +before. + +"Why? Wahn't she honest? Wahn't she capable? Wahn't she a lady?" + +"I can't say that I know anything against Miss Wetherell's character, if +that's what you mean." + +"F-fit to teach--wahn't she--fit to teach?" + +"I believe she has since qualified before Mr. Errol." + +"Fit to teach--wahn't fit to marry your son--was she?" + +Isaac Worthington clutched the table and started from his chair. He grew +white to his lips with anger, and yet he knew that he must control +himself. + +"Mr. Bass," he said, "you have something to sell, and I have something to +buy--if the price is not ruinous. Let us confine ourselves to that. My +affairs and my son's affairs are neither here nor there. I ask you +again, how much do you want for this Consolidation Bill?" + +"N-no money will buy it." + +"What!" + +"C-consent to this marriage, c-consent to this marriage." There was yet +room for Isaac Worthington to be amazed, and for a while he stared up at +Jethro, speechless. + +"Is that your price?" he asked at last. + +"Th-that's my price," said Jethro. + +Isaac Worthington got up and went to the window and stood looking out +above the black mass of trees at the dome outlined against the star- +flecked sky. At first his anger choked him, and he could not think; he +had just enough reason left not to walk out of the door. But presently +habit asserted itself in him, too, and he began to reflect and calculate +in spite of his anger. It is strange that memory plays so small a part +in such a man. Before he allowed his mind to dwell on the fearful price, +he thought of his ambitions gratified; and yet he did not think then of +the woman to whom he had once confided those ambitions--the woman who was +the girl's mother. Perhaps Jethro was thinking of her. + +It may have been--I know not--that Isaac Worthington wondered at this +revelation of the character of Jethro Bass, for it was a revelation. For +this girl's sake Jethro was willing to forego his revenge, was willing at +the end of his days to allow the world to believe that he had sold out to +his enemy, or that he had been defeated by him. + +But when he thought of the marriage, Isaac Worthington ground his teeth. +A certain sentiment which we may call pride was so strong in him that he +felt ready to make almost any sacrifice to prevent it. To hinder it he +had quarrelled with his son, and driven him away, and threatened +disinheritance. The price was indeed heavy--the heaviest he could pay. +But the alternative--was not that heavier? To relinquish his dream of +power, to sink for a while into a crippled state; for he had spent large +sums, and one of those periodical depressions had come in the business of +the mills, and those Western investments were not looking so bright now. + +So, with his hands opening and closing in front of him, Isaac Worthington +fought out his battle. A terrible war, that, between ambition and pride +--a war to the knife. The issue may yet have been undecided when he +turned round to Jethro with a sneer which he could not resist. + +"Why doesn't she marry him without my consent?" + +In a moment Mr. Worthington knew he had gone too far. A certain kind of +an eye is an incomparable weapon, and armed men have been cowed by those +who possess it, though otherwise defenceless. Jethro Bass had that kind +of an eye. + +"G-guess you wouldn't understand if I was to tell you," he said. + +Mr. Worthington walked to the window again, perhaps to compose himself, +and then came back again. + +"Your proposition is," he said at length, "that if I give my consent to +this marriage, we are to have Bixby and the governor, and the +Consolidation Bill will become a law. Is that it?" + +"Th-that's it," said Jethro, taking his accustomed seat. + +"And this consent is to be given when the bill becomes a law?" + +"Given now. T-to-night." + +Mr. Worthington took another turn as far as the door, and suddenly came +and stood before Jethro. + +"Well, I consent." + +Jethro nodded toward the table. + +"Er--pen and paper there," he said. + +"What do you want me to do?" demanded Mr. Worthington. + +"W-write to Bob--write to Cynthy. Nice letters." + +"This is carrying matters with too high a hand, Mr. Bass. I will write +the letters to-morrow morning." It was intolerable that he, the first +citizen of Brampton, should have to submit to such humiliation. + +"Write 'em now. W-want to see 'em." + +"But if I give you my word they will be written and sent to you to-morrow +afternoon?" + +"T-too late," said Jethro; "sit down and write 'em now." + +Mr. Worthington went irresolutely to the table, stood for a minute, and +dropped suddenly into the chair there. He would have given anything +(except the realization of his ambitions) to have marched out of the room +and to have slammed the door behind him. The letter paper and envelopes +which Jethro had bought stood in a little pile, and Mr. Worthington +picked up the pen. The clock struck two as he wrote the date, as though +to remind him that he had written it wrong. If Flint could see him now! +Would Flint guess? Would anybody guess? He stared at the white paper, +and his rage came on again like a gust of wind, and he felt that he would +rather beg in the streets than write such a thing. And yet--and yet he +sat there. Surely Jethro Bass must have known that he could have taken +no more exquisite vengeance than this, to compel a man--and such a man-- +to sit down in the white heat of passion--and write two letters of +forgiveness! Jethro sat by the window, to all appearances oblivious to +the tortures of his victim. + +He who has tried to write a note--the simplest note when his mind was +harassed, will understand something of Isaac Worthington's sensations. +He would no sooner get an inkling of what his opening sentence was to be +than the flames of his anger would rise and sweep it away. He could not +even decide which letter he was to write first: to his son, who had +defied him and who (the father knew in his heart) condemned him? or to +the schoolteacher, who was responsible for all his misery; who--Mr. +Worthington believed--had taken advantage of his son's youth by feminine +wiles of no mean order so as to gain possession of him. I can almost +bring myself to pity the first citizen of Brampton as he sits there with +his pen poised over the paper, and his enemy waiting to read those tender +epistles of forgiveness which he has yet to write. The clock has almost +got round to the half-hour again, and there is only the date--and a wrong +one at that. + +"My dear Miss Wetherell,--Circumstances (over which I have no control?)" +--ought he not to call her Cynthia? He has to make the letter credible in +the eyes of the censor who sits by the window. "My dear Miss Wetherell, +I have come to the conclusion"--two sheets torn up, or thrust into Mr. +Worthington's pocket. By this time words have begun to have a colorless +look. "My dear Miss Wetherell,--Having become convinced of the sincere +attachment which my son Robert has for you, I am writing him to-night to +give my full consent to his marriage. He has given me to understand that +you have hitherto persistently refused to accept him because I have +withheld that consent, and I take this opportunity of expressing my +admiration of this praiseworthy resolution on your part." (If this be +irony, it is sublime! Perhaps Isaac Worthington has a little of the +artist in him, and now that he is in the heat of creation has forgotten +the circumstances under which he is composing.) "My son's happiness and +career in life are of such moment to me that, until the present, I could +not give my sanction to what I at first regarded as a youthful fancy. +Now that, my son, for your sake, has shown his determination and ability +to make his own way in the world," (Isaac Worthington was not a little +proud of this) "I have determined that it is wise to withdraw my +opposition, and to recall Robert to his proper place, which is near me. +I am sure that my feelings in this matter will be clear to you, and that +you will look with indulgence upon any acts of mine which sprang from a +natural solicitation for the welfare and happiness of my only child. I +shall be in Brampton in a day or two, and I shall at once give myself the +pleasure of calling on you. Sincerely yours, Isaac D. Worthington." + +Perhaps a little formal and pompous for some people, but an admirable and +conciliatory letter for the first citizen of Brampton. Written under +such trying circumstances, with I know not how many erasures and false +starts, it is little short of a marvel in art: neither too much said, nor +too little, for a relenting parent of Mr. Worthington's character, and I +doubt whether Talleyrand or Napoleon or even Machiavelli himself could +have surpassed it. The second letter, now that Mr. Worthington had got +into the swing, was more easily written. "My dear Robert" (it said), "I +have made up my mind to give my consent to your marriage to Miss +Wetherell, and I am ready to welcome you home, where I trust I shall see +you shortly. I have not been unimpressed by the determined manner in +which you have gone to work for yourself, but I believe that your place +is in Brampton, where I trust you will show the same energy in learning +to succeed me in the business which I have founded there as you have +exhibited in Mr. Broke's works. Affectionately, your Father." + +A very creditable and handsome letter for a forgiving father. When Mr. +Worthington had finished it, and had addressed both the envelopes, his +shame and vexation had, curious to relate, very considerably abated. Not +to go too deeply into the somewhat contradictory mental and cardiac +processes of Mr. Worthington, he had somehow tricked himself by that +magic exercise of wielding his pen into thinking that he was doing a +noble and generous action: into believing that in the course of a very +few days--or weeks, at the most, he would have recalled his erring son +and have given Cynthia his blessing. He would, he told himself, have +been forced eventually to yield when that paragon of inflexibility, Bob, +dictated terms to him at the head of the locomotive works. Better let +the generosity be on his (Mr. Worthington's) side. At all events, +victory had never been bought more cheaply. Humiliation, in Mr. +Worthington's eyes, had an element of publicity in it, and this episode +had had none of that element; and Jethro Bass, moreover, was a highwayman +who had held a pistol to his head. In such logical manner he gradually +bolstered up again his habitual poise and dignity. Next week, at the +latest, men would point to him as the head of the largest railroad +interests in the state. + +He pushed back his chair, and rose, merely indicating the result of his +labors by a wave of his hand. And he stood in the window as Jethro Bass +got up and went to the table. I would that I had a pen able to describe +Jethro's sensations when he read them. Unfortunately, he is a man with +few facial expressions. But I believe that he was artist enough himself +to appreciate the perfections of the first citizen's efforts. After a +much longer interval than was necessary for their perusal, Mr. +Worthington turned. + +"G-guess they'll do," said Jethro, as he folded them up. He was too +generous not to indulge, for once, in a little well-deserved praise. +"Hain't underdone it, and hain't overdone it a mite hev you? M-man of +resource. Callate you couldn't hev beat that if you was to take a week +to it." + +"I think it only fair to tell you," said Mr. Worthington, picking up his +silk hat, "that in those letters I have merely anticipated a very little +my intentions in the matter. My son having proved his earnestness, +I was about to consent to the marriage of my own accord." + +"G-goin' to do it anyway--was you?" + +"I had so determined." + +"A-always thought you was high-minded," said Jethro. + +Mr. Worthington was on the point of giving a tart reply to this, but +restrained himself. + +"Then I may look upon the matter as settled?" he said. "The +Consolidation Bill is to become a law?" + +"Yes," said Jethro, "you'll get your bill." Mr. Worthington had got his +hand on the knob of the door when Jethro stopped him with a word. He had +no facial expressions, but he had an eye, as we have seen--an eye that +for the second time appeared terrible to his visitor. "Isaac +Worthington," he said, "a-act up to it. No trickery--or look out--look +out." + +Then, the incident being closed so far as he was concerned, Jethro went +back to his chair by the window, but it is to be recorded that Isaac +Worthington did not answer him immediately. Then he said:-- + +"You seem to forget that you are talking to a gentleman." + +"That's so," answered Jethro, "so you be." + +He sat where he was long after the sky had whitened and the stars had +changed from gold to silver and gone out, and the sunlight had begun to +glance upon the green leaves of the park. Perhaps he was thinking of the +life he had lived, which was spent now: of the men he had ruled, of the +victories he had gained from that place which would know him no more. He +had won the last and the greatest of his victories there, compared to +which the others had indeed been as vanities. Perhaps he looked back +over the highway of his life and thought of the woman whom he had loved, +and wondered what it had been if she had trod it by his side. Who will +judge him? He had been what he had been; and as the Era was, so was he. +Verily, one generation passeth away, and another generation cometh. + +When Mr. Isaac Worthington arrived at Mr. Duncan's house, where he was +staying, at three o'clock in the morning, he saw to his surprise light +from the library windows lying in bars across the lawn under the trees. +He found Mr. Duncan in that room with Somers, his son, who had just +returned from a seaside place, and they were discussing a very grave +event. Miss Janet Duncan had that day eloped with a gentleman who--to +judge from the photograph Somers held--was both handsome and romantic- +looking. He had long hair and burning eyes, and a title not to be then +verified, and he owned a castle near some place on the peninsula of Italy +not on the map. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +We are back in Brampton, owning, as we do, an annual pass over the Truro +Railroad. Cynthia has been there all the summer, and as it is now the +first of September, her school has begun again. I do not by any means +intend to imply that Brampton is not a pleasant place to spend the +summer: the number of its annual visitors is a refutation of that; but to +Cynthia the season had been one of great unhappiness. Several times Lem +Hallowell had stopped the stage in front of Ephraim's house to beg her to +go to Coniston, and Mr. Satterlee had come himself; but she could not +have borne to be there without Jethro. Nor would she go to Boston, +though urged by Miss Lucretia; and Mrs. Merrill and the girls had +implored her to join them at a seaside place on the Cape. + +Cynthia had made a little garden behind Ephraim's house, and she spent +the summer there with her flowers and her books, many of which Lem had +fetched from Coniston. Ephraim loved to sit there of an evening and +smoke his pipe and chat with Ezra Graves and the neighbors who dropped +in. Among these were Mr. Gamaliel Ives, who talked literature with +Cynthia; and Lucy Baird, his wife, who had taken Cynthia under her wing. +I wish I had time to write about Lucy Baird. And Mr. Jonathan Hill came- +-his mortgage not having been foreclosed, after all. When Cynthia was +alone with Ephraim she often read to him,--generally from books of a +martial flavor,--and listened with an admirable hypocrisy to certain +narratives which he was in the habit of telling. + +They never spoke of Jethro. Ephraim was not a casuist, and his sense of +right and wrong came largely through his affections. It is safe to say +that he never made an analysis of the sorrow which he knew was afflicting +the girl, but he had had a general and most sympathetic understanding of +it ever since the time when Jethro had gone back to the capital; and +Ephraim never brought home his Guardian or his Clarion now, but read them +at the office, that their contents might not disturb her. + +No wonder that Cynthia was unhappy. The letters came, almost every day, +with the postmark of the town in New Jersey where Mr. Broke's locomotive +works were; and she answered them now (but oh, how scrupulously!), though +not every day. If the waters of love rose up through the grains of sand, +it was, at least, not Cynthia's fault. Hers were the letters of a +friend. She was reading such and such a book--had he read it? And he +must not work too hard. How could her letters be otherwise when Jethro +Bass, her benefactor, was at the capital working to defeat and perhaps to +ruin Bob's father? when Bob's father had insulted and persecuted her? +She ought not to have written at all; but the lapses of such a heroine +are very rare, and very dear. + +Yes, Cynthia's life was very bitter that summer, with but little hope on +the horizon of it. Her thoughts were divided between Bob and Jethro. +Many a night she lay awake resolving to write to Jethro, even to go to +him, but when morning came she could not bring herself to do so. I do +not think it was because she feared that he might believe her appeal +would be made in behalf of Bob's father. Knowing Jethro as she did, she +felt that it would be useless, and she could not bear to make it in vain; +if the memory of that evening in the tannery shed would not serve, +nothing would serve. And again--he had gone to avenge her. + +It was inevitable that she should hear tidings from the capital. Isaac +Worthington's own town was ringing with it. And as week after week of +that interminable session went by, the conviction slowly grew upon +Brampton that its first citizen had been beaten by Jethro Bass. +Something of Mr. Worthington's affairs was known: the mills, for +instance, were not being run to their full capacity. And then had come +the definite news that Mr. Worthington was beaten, a local representative +having arrived straight from the rotunda. Cynthia overheard Lem +Hallowell telling it to Ephraim, and she could not for the life of her +help rejoicing, though she despised herself for it. Isaac Worthington +was humbled now, and Jethro had humbled him to avenge her. Despite her +grief over his return to that life, there was something to compel her awe +and admiration in the way he had risen and done this thing after men had +fallen from him. Her mother had had something of these same feelings, +without knowing why. + +People who had nothing but praise for him before were saying hard things +about Isaac Worthington that night. When the baron is defeated, the +serfs come out of their holes in the castle rock and fling their curses +across the moat. Cynthia slept but little, and was glad when the day +came to take her to her scholars, to ease her mind of the thoughts which +tortured it. + +And then, when she stopped at the post-office to speak to Ephraim on her +way homeward in the afternoon, she heard men talking behind the +partition, and she stood, as one stricken, listening beside the window. +Other tidings had come in the shape of a telegram. The first rumor had +been false. Brampton had not yet received the details, but the +Consolidation Bill had gone into the House that morning, and would be a +law before the week was out. A part of it was incomprehensible to +Cynthia, but so much she had understood. She did not wait to speak to +Ephraim, and she was going out again when a man rushed past her and +through the partition door. Cynthia paused instinctively, for she +recognized him as one of the frequenters of the station and a bearer of +news. + +"Jethro's come home, boys," he shouted; "come in on the four o'clock, and +went right off to Coniston. Guess he's done for, this time, for certain. +Looks it. By Godfrey, he looks eighty! Callate his day's over, from the +way the boys talked on the train." + +Cynthia lingered to hear no more, and went out, dazed, into the September +sunshine: Jethro beaten, and broken, and gone to Coniston. Resolution +came to her as she walked. Arriving home, she wrote a little note and +left it on the table for Ephraim; and going out again, ran by the back +lane to Mr. Sherman's livery stable behind the Brampton House, and in +half an hour was driving along that familiar road to Coniston, alone; for +she had often driven Jethro's horses, and knew every turn of the way. +And as she gazed at the purple mountain through the haze and drank in the +sweet scents of the year's fulness, she was strangely happy. There was +the village green in the cool evening light, and the flagstaff with its +tip silvered by the departing sun. She waved to Rias and Lem and Moses +at the store, but she drove on to the tannery house, and hitched the +horse at the rough granite post, and went in, and through the house, +softly, to the kitchen. + +Jethro was standing in the doorway, and did not turn. He may have +thought she was Millicent Skinner. Cynthia could see his face. It was +older, indeed, and lined and worn, but that fearful look of desolation +which she had once surprised upon it, and which she in that instant +feared to see, was not there. Jethro's soul was at peace, though Cynthia +could not understand why it was so. She stole to him and flung her arms +about his neck, and with a cry he seized her and held her against him for +I know not how long. Had it been possible to have held her there always, +he would never have let her go. At last he looked down into her tear-wet +face, into her eyes that were shining with tears. + +"D-done wrong, Cynthy." + +Cynthia did not answer that, for she remembered how she, too, had exulted +when she had believed him to have accomplished Isaac Worthington's +downfall. Now that he had failed, and she was in his arms, it was not +for her to judge--only to rejoice. + +"Didn't look for you to come back--didn't expect it." + +"Uncle Jethro!" she faltered. Love for her had made him go, and she +would not say that, either. + +"D-don't hate me, Cynthy--don't hate me?" + +She shook her head. + +"Love me--a little?" + +She reached up her hands and brushed back his hair, tenderly, from his +forehead. Such--a loving gesture was her answer. + +"You are going to stay here always, now," she said, in a low voice, "you +are never going away again." + +"G-goin' to stay always," he answered. Perhaps he was thinking of the +hillside clearing in the forest--who knows! "You'll come-sometime, +Cynthy--sometime?" + +"I'll come every Saturday and Sunday, Uncle Jethro," she said, smiling up +at him. "Saturday is only two days away, now. I can hardly wait." + +"Y-you'll come sometime?" + +"Uncle Jethro, do you think I'll be away from you, except--except when I +have to?" + +"C-come and read to me--won't you--come and read?" + +"Of course I will!" + +"C-call to mind the first book you read to me, Cynthy?" + +"It was 'Robinson Crusoe,'" she said. + +"'R-Robinson Crusoe.' Often thought of that book. Know some of it by +heart. R-read it again, sometime, Cynthy?" + +She looked up at him a little anxiously. His eyes were on the great hill +opposite, across Coniston Water. + +"I will, indeed, Uncle Jethro, if we can find it," she answered. + +"Guess I can find it," said Jethro. "R-remember when you saw him makin' +a ship?" + +"Yes," said Cynthia," and I had my feet in the pool." + +The book had made a profound impression upon Jethro, partly because +Cynthia had first read it to him, and partly for another reason. The +isolation of Crusoe; depicted by Defoe's genius, had been comparable to +his own isolation, and he had pondered upon it much of late. Yes, and +upon a certain part of another book which he had read earlier in life: +Napoleon had ended his days on St. Helena. + +They walked out under the trees to the brook-side and stood listening to +the tinkling of the cowbells in the wood lot beyond. The light faded +early on these September evenings, and the smoky mist had begun to rise +from the water when they turned back again. The kitchen windows were +already growing yellow, and through them the faithful Millicent could be +seen bustling about in her preparations for supper. But Cynthia, having +accomplished her errand, would not go in. She could not have borne to +have any one drive back with her to Brampton then, and she must not be +late upon the road. + +"I will come Friday evening, Uncle Jethro," she said, as she kissed him +and gave one last, lingering look at his face. Had it been possible, she +would not have left him, and on her way to Brampton through the gathering +darkness she mused anxiously upon that strange calmness be had shown +after defeat. + +She drove her horse on to the floor of Mr. Sherman's stable, that +gentleman himself gallantly assisting her to alight, and walked homeward +through the lane. Ephraim had not yet returned from the postoffice, +which did not close until eight, and Cynthia smiled when she saw the +utensils of his cooking-kit strewn on the hearth. In her absence he +invariably unpacked and used it, and of course Cynthia at once set +herself to cleaning and packing it again. After that she got her own +supper--a very simple affair--and was putting the sitting room to rights +when Ephraim came thumping in. + +"Well, I swan!" he exclaimed when he saw her. "I didn't look for you to +come back so soon, Cynthy. Put up the kit--hev you?" He stood in front +of the fireplace staring with apparent interest at the place where the +kit had been, and added in a voice which he strove to make quite casual, +"How be Jethro?" + +"He looks older, Cousin Eph," she answered, after a pause, "and I think +he is very tired. But he seems he seems more tranquil and contented than +I hoped to find him." + +"I want to know," said Ephraim. "I am glad to hear it. Glad you went +up, Cynthy--you done right to go. + +"I'd have gone with you, if you'd only told me. I'll git a chance to go +up Sunday." + +There was an air of repressed excitement about the veteran which did not +escape Cynthia. He held two letters in his hand, and, being a +postmaster, he knew the handwriting on both. One had come from that +place in New Jersey, and drew no comment. But the other! That one had +been postmarked at the capital, and as he had sat at his counter at the +post-office waiting for closing time he bad turned it over and over with +many ejaculations and futile guesses. Past master of dissimulation that +he was, he had made up his mind--if he should find Cynthia at home--to +lay the letters indifferently on the table and walk into his bedroom. +This campaign he now proceeded to carry out. + +Cynthia smiled again when he was gone, and shook her head and picked up +the letters: Bob's was uppermost and she read that first, without a +thought of the other one. And she smiled as she read for Bob had had a +promotion. He was not yet at the head of the locomotive works, he +hastened to add, for fear that Cynthia might think that Mr. Broke had +resigned the presidency in his favor; and Cynthia never failed to laugh +at these little facetious asides. He was now earning the princely sum of +ninety dollars a month--not enough to marry on, alas! On Saturday nights +he and Percy Broke scrubbed as much as possible of the grime from their +hands and faces and went to spend Sunday at Elberon, the Broke place on +the Hudson; from whence Miss Sally Broke, if she happened to be at home, +always sent Cynthia her love. As Cynthia is still a heroine, I shall not +describe how she felt about Sally Broke's love. There was plenty of +Bob's own in the letter. Cynthia would got have blamed him if he bad +fallen in love with Miss Broke. It seemed to her little short of +miraculous that, amidst such surroundings, he could be true to her. + +After a period which was no briefer than that usually occupied by Bob's +letters, Cynthia took the other one from her lap, and stared at it in +much perplexity before she tore it open. We have seen its contents over +Mr. Worthington's shoulder, and our hearts will not stop beating--as +Cynthia's did. She read it twice before the full meaning of it came to +her, and after that she could not well mistake it,--the language being so +admirable in every way. She sat very still for a long while, and +presently she heard Ephraim go out. But Cynthia did not move. Mr. +Worthington relented and Bob recalled! The vista of happiness suddenly +opened up, widened and widened until it was too bright for Cynthia's +vision, and she would compel her mind to dwell on another prospect,--that +of the father and son reconciled. Although her temples throbbed, she +tried to analyze the letter. It implied that Mr. Worthington had allowed +Bob to remain away on a sort of probation; it implied that it had been +dictated by a strong paternal love mingled with a strong paternal +justice. And then there was the appeal to her: "You will look with +indulgence upon any acts of mine which sprang from a natural solicitation +for the welfare and happiness of my only child." A terrible insight is +theirs to whom it is given to love as Cynthia loved. + +Suddenly there came a knock which frightened her, for her mind was +running on swiftly from point to point: had, indeed, flown as far as +Coniston by now, and she was thinking of that strange look of peace on +Jethro's face which had troubled her. One letter she thrust into her +dress, but the other she laid aside, and her knees trembled under her as +she rose and went into the entry and raised the latch and opened the +door. There was a moon, and the figure in the frock coat and the silk +hat was the one which she expected to see. The silk hat came off very +promptly. + +"I hope I am not disturbing you, Miss Wetherell," said the owner of it. + +"No," answered Cynthia, faintly. + +"May I come in?" + +Cynthia held open the door a little wider, and Mr. Worthington walked in. +He seemed very majestic and out of place in the little house which +Gabriel Post had built, and he carried into it some of the atmosphere of +the walnut and high ceilings of his own mansion. His manner of laying +his hat, bottom up, on the table, and of unbuttoning his coat, subtly +indicated the honor which he was conferring upon the place. And he eyed +Cynthia, standing before him in the lamplight, with a modification of the +hawk-like look which was meant to be at once condescending and +conciliatory. He did not imprint a kiss upon her brow, as some +prospective fathers-in-law would have done. But his eyes, perhaps +involuntarily, paid a tribute to her personal appearance which heightened +her color. She might not, after all, be such a discredit to the +Worthington family. + +"Won't you sit down?" she asked. + +"Thank you, Cynthia," he said; "I hope I may now be allowed to call you +Cynthia?" + +She did not answer him, but sat down herself, and he followed her +example; with his eyes still upon her. + +"You have doubtless received my letter," began Mr. Worthington. "I only +arrived in Brampton an hour ago, but I thought it best to come to you at +once, under the circumstances." + +"Yes," replied Cynthia, "I received the letter." + +"I am glad," said Mr. Worthington. He was beginning to be a little taken +aback by her calmness and her apparent absence of joy. It was scarcely +the way in which a school-teacher should receive the advances of the +first citizen, come to give a gracious consent to her marriage with his +son. Had he known it, Cynthia was anything but calm. "I am glad," he +said, "because I took pains to explain the exact situation in that +letter, and to set forth my own sentiments. I hope you understood them." + +"Yes, I understood them," said Cynthia, in a low tone. + +This was enigmatical, to say the least. But Mr. Worthington had come +with such praiseworthy intentions that he was disposed to believe that +the girl was overwhelmed by the good fortune which had suddenly overtaken +her. He was therefore disposed to be a little conciliatory. + +"My conduct may have appeared harsh to you," he continued. "I will not +deny that I opposed the matter at first. Robert was still in college, +and he has a generous, impressionable nature which he inherits from his +poor mother--the kind of nature likely to commit a rash act which would +ruin his career. I have since become convinced that he has--ahem-- +inherited likewise a determination of purpose and an ability to get on in +the world which I confess I had underestimated. My friend, Mr. Broke, +has written me a letter about him, and tells me that he has already +promoted him." + +"Yes," said Cynthia. + +"You hear from him?" inquired Mr. Worthington, giving her a quick glance. + +"Yes," said Cynthia, her color rising a little. + +"And yet," said Mr. Worthington, slowly, "I have been under the +impression that you have persistently refused to marry him." + +"That is true," she answered. + +"I cannot refrain from complimenting you, Cynthia, upon such rare +conduct," said he. "You will be glad to know that it has contributed +more than anything else toward my estimation of your character, and has +strengthened me in my resolution that I am now doing right. It may be +difficult for you to understand a father's feelings. The complete +separation from my only son was telling on me severely, and I could not +forget that you were the cause of that separation. I knew nothing about +you, except--" He hesitated, for she had turned to him. + +"Except what?" she asked. + +Mr. Worthington coughed. Mr. Flint had told him, that very morning, of +her separation from Jethro, and of the reasons which people believed had +caused it. Unfortunately, we have not time to go into that conversation +with Mr. Flint, who had given a very good account of Cynthia indeed. +After all (Mr. Worthington reflected), he had consented to the marriage, +and there was no use in bringing Jethro's name into the conversation. +Jethro would be forgotten soon. + +"I will not deny to You that I had other plans for my son," he said. +"I had hoped that he would marry a daughter of a friend of mine. You must +be a little indulgent with parents, Cynthia," he added with a little +smile, "we have our castles in the air, too. Sometimes, as in this case, +by a wise provision of providence they go astray. I suppose you have +heard of Miss Duncan's marriage." + +"No," said Cynthia. + +"She ran off with a worthless Italian nobleman. I believe, on the +whole," he said, with what was an extreme complaisance for the first +citizen, "that I have reason to congratulate myself upon Robert's choice. +I have made inquiries about you, and I find that I have had the pleasure +of knowing your mother, whom I respected very much. And your father, I +understand, came of very good people, and was forced by circumstances to +adopt the means of livelihood he did. My attention has been called to +the letters he wrote to the Guardian, which I hear have been highly +praised by competent critics, and I have ordered a set of them for the +files of the library. You yourself, I find, are highly thought of in +Brampton" (a, not unimportant factor, by the way); "you have been +splendidly educated, and are a lady. In short, Cynthia, I have come to +give my formal consent to your engagement to my son Robert." + +"But I am not engaged to him," said Cynthia. + +"He will be here shortly, I imagine," said Mr. Worthington. + +Cynthia was trembling more than ever by this time. She was very angry, +and she had found it very difficult to repress the things which she had +been impelled to speak. She did not hate Isaac Worthington now--she +despised him. He had not dared to mention Jethro, who had been her +benefactor, though he had done his best to have her removed from the +school because of her connection with Jethro. + +"Mr. Worthington," she said, "I have not yet made up my mind whether I +shall marry your son." + +To say that Mr. Worthington's breath was taken away when he heard these +words would be to use a mild expression. He doubted his senses. + +"What?" he exclaimed, starting forward, "what do you mean?" + +Cynthia hesitated a moment. She was not frightened, but she was trying +to choose her words without passion. + +"I refused to marry him," she said, "because you withheld your consent, +and I did not wish to be the cause of a quarrel between you. It was not +difficult to guess your feelings toward me, even before certain things +occurred of which I will not speak. I did my best, from the very first, +to make Bob give up the thought of marrying me, although I loved and +honored him. Loving him as I do, I do not want to be the cause of +separating him from his father, and of depriving him of that which is +rightfully his. But something was due to myself. If I should ever make +up my mind to marry him," continued Cynthia, looking at Mr. Worthington +steadfastly, "it will not be because your consent is given or withheld." + +"Do you tell me this to my face?" exclaimed Mr. Worthington, now in a +rage himself at such unheard-of presumption. + +"To your face," said Cynthia, who got more self-controlled as he grew +angry. "I believe that that consent, which you say you have given +freely, was wrung from you." + +It was unfortunate that the first citizen might not always have Mr. Flint +by him to restrain and caution him. But Mr. Flint could have no command +over his master's sensations, and anger and apprehension goaded Mr. +Worthington to indiscretion. + +"Jethro Bass told you this!" he cried out. + +"No," Cynthia answered, not in the least surprised by the admission, +"he did not tell me--but he will if I ask him. I guessed it from your +letter. I heard that he had come back to-day, and I went to Coniston to +see him, and he told me--he had been defeated." + +Tears came into her eyes at the remembrance of the scene in the tannery +house that afternoon, and she knew now why Jethro's face had worn that +look of peace. He had made his supreme sacrifice--for her. No, he had +told her nothing, and she might never have known. She sat thinking of +the magnitude of this thing Jethro had done, and she ceased to speak, and +the tears coursed down her cheeks unheeded. + +Isaac Worthington had a habit of clutching things when he was in a rage, +and now he clutched the arms of the chair. He had grown white. He was +furious with her, furious with himself for having spoken that which might +be construed into a confession. He had not finished writing the letters +before he had stood self-justified, and he had been self-justified ever +since. Where now were these arguments so wonderfully plausible? Where +were the refutations which he had made ready in case of a barely possible +need? He had gone into the Pelican House intending to tell Jethro of his +determination to agree to the marriage. That was one. He had done so-- +that was another--and he had written the letters that Jethro might be +convinced of his good will. There were still more, involving Jethro's +character for veracity and other things. Summoning these, he waited for +Cynthia to have done speaking, but when she had finished--he said nothing. +He looked a her, and saw the tears on her face, and he saw that she had +completely forgotten his presence. + +For the life of him, Isaac Worthington could not utter a word. He was a +man, as we know, who did not talk idly, and he knew that Cynthia would +not hear what he said; and arguments and denunciations lose their effect +when repeated. Again, he knew that she would not believe him. Never in +his life had Isaac Worthington been so ignored, so put to shame, as by +this school-teacher of Brampton. Before, self-esteem and sophistry had +always carried him off between them; sometimes, in truth, with a wound-- +the wound had always healed. But he had a feeling, to-night, that this +woman had glanced into his soul, and had turned away from it. As he +looked at her the texture of his anger changed; he forgot for the first +time that which he had been pleased to think of as her position in life, +and he feared her. He had matched his spirit against hers. + +Before long the situation became intolerable to him, for Cynthia still +sat silent. She was thinking of how she had blamed Jethro for going back +to that life, even though his love for her had made him do it. But Isaac +Worthington did not know of what she was thinking--he thought only of +himself and his predicament. He could not remain, and yet he could not +go--with dignity. He who had come to bestow could not depart like a +whipped dog. + +Suddenly a fear transfixed him: suppose that this woman, from whom he +could not hide the truth, should tell his son what he had done. Bob +would believe her. Could he, Isaac Worthington, humble his pride and ask +her to keep her suspicions to herself? He would then be acknowledging +that they were more than suspicions. If he did so, he would have to +appear to forgive her in spite of what she had said to him. And Bob was +coming home. Could he tell Bob that he had changed his mind and +withdrawn his consent to the marriage? There world be the reason, and +again Bob would believe her. And again, if he withdrew his consent, +there was Jethro to reckon with. Jethro must have a weapon still, Mr. +Worthington thought, although he could not imagine what it might be. As +Isaac Worthington sat there, thinking, it grew clear, to him at last that +there was but one exit out of a, very desperate situation. + +He glanced at Cynthia again, this time appraisingly. She had dried her +eyes, but she made no effort to speak. After all, she would make such a +wife for his son as few men possessed. He thought of Sarah Hollingsworth. +She had been a good woman, but there had been many times when he had +deplored--especially in his travels the lack of other qualities in his +wife. Cynthia, he thought, had these qualities,--so necessary for the +wife of one who would succeed to power--though whence she had got them +Isaac Worthington could not imagine. She would become a personage; she +was a woman of whom they had no need to be ashamed at home or abroad. +Having completed these reflections, he broke the silence. + +"I am sorry that you should have been misled into thinking such a thing +as you have expressed, Cynthia," he said, "but I believe that I can +understand something of the feelings which prompted you. It is natural +that you should have a resentment against me after everything that has +happened. It is perhaps natural, too, that I should lose my temper under +the circumstances. Let us forget it. And I trust that in the future we +shall grow into the mutual respect and affection which our nearer +relationship will demand." + +He rose, and took up his hat, and Cynthia rose too. There was something +very fine, he thought, about her carriage and expression as she stood in +front of him. + +"There is my hand," he said,--"will you take it?" + +"I will take it," Cynthia answered, "because you are Bob's father." + +And then Mr. Worthington went away. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +I am able to cite one notable instance, at least, to disprove the saying +a part of which is written above, and I have yet to hear of a case in +which a gentleman ever hesitated a single instant on account of the first +letter of a lady's last name. I know, indeed, of an occasion when +locomotives could not go fast enough, when thirty miles an hour seemed a +snail's pace to a young main who sat by the open window of a train that +crept northward on a certain hazy September morning up the beautiful +valley of a broad river which we know. + +It was after three o'clock before he caught sight of the familiar crest +of Farewell Mountain, and the train ran into Harwich. How glad he was to +see everybody there, whether he knew them or not! He came near hugging +the conductor of the Truro accommodation; who, needless to say, did not +ask him for a ticket, or even a pass. And then the young man went +forward and almost shook the arms off of the engineer and the fireman, +and climbed into the cab, and actually drove the engine himself as far as +Brampton, where it arrived somewhat ahead of schedule, having taken some +of the curves and bridges at a speed a little beyond the law. The +engineer was richer by five dollars, and the son of a railroad president +is a privileged character, anyway. + +Yes, here was Brampton, and in spite of the haze the sun had never shone +so brightly on the terraced steeple of the meeting-house. He leaped out +of the cab almost before the engine had stopped, and beamed upon +everybody on the platform,--even upon Mr. Dodd, who chanced to be there. +In a twinkling the young man is in Mr. Sherman's hack, and Mr. Sherman +galloping his horse down Brampton Street, the young man with his head out +of the window, smiling; grinning would be a better word. Here are the +iron mastiffs, and they seem to be grinning, too. The young man flings +open the carriage door and leaps out, and the door is almost broken from +its hinges by the maple tree. He rushes up the steps and through the +hall, and into the library, where the first citizen and his seneschal are +sitting. + +"Hello, Father, you see I didn't waste any time," he cried; grasping his +father's hand in a grip that made Mr. Worthington wince. "Well, you are +a trump, after all. We're both a little hot-headed, I guess, and do +things we're sorry for,--but that's all over now, isn't it? I'm sorry. +I might have known you'd come round when you found out for yourself what +kind of a girl Cynthia was. Did you ever see anybody like her?" + +Mr. Flint turned his back, and started to walk out of the room. + +"Don't go, Flint, old boy," Bob called out, seizing Mr. Flint's hand, +too. "I can't stay but a minute, now. How are you?" + +"All right, Bob," answered Mr. Flint, with a curious, kindly look in his +eyes that was not often there. "I'm glad to see you home. I have to go +to the bank." + +"Well, Father," said Bob, "school must be out, and I imagine you know +where I'm going. I just thought I'd stop in to--to thank you, and get a +benediction." + +I am very happy to have you back, Robert," replied Mr. Worthington, and +it was true. It would have been strange indeed if some tremor of +sentiment had not been in his voice and some gleam of pride in his eye as +he looked upon his son. + +"So you saw her, and couldn't resist her," said Bob. "Wasn't that how it +happened?" + +Mr. Worthington sat down again at the desk, and his hand began to stray +among the papers. He was thinking of Mr. Flint's exit. + +"I do not arrive at my decisions quite in that way, Robert," he answered. + +"But you have seen her?" + +"Yes, I have seen her." + +There was a hesitation, an uneasiness in his father's tone for which Bob +could not account, and which he attributed to emotion. He did not guess +that this hour of supreme joy could hold for Isaac Worthington another +sensation. + +"Isn't she the finest girl in the world?" he demanded. "How does she +seem? How does she look?" + +"She looks extremely well," said Mr. Worthington, who had now schooled +his voice. "In fact, I am quite ready to admit that Cynthia Wetherell +possesses the qualifications necessary for your wife. If she had not, +I should never have written you." + +Bob walked to the window. + +"Father;" he said, speaking with a little difficulty, "I can't tell you +how much I appreciate your--your coming round. I wanted to do the right +thing, but I just couldn't give up such a girl as that." + +"We shall let bygones be bygones, Robert," answered Mr. Worthington, +clearing his throat. + +"She never would have me without your consent. By the way," he cried, +turning suddenly, "did she say she'd have me now?" + +"I believe," said Mr. Worthington, clearing his throat again, "I believe +she reserved her decision." + +"I must be off," said Bob, "she goes to Coniston on Fridays. I'll drive +her out. Good-by, Father." + +He flew out of the room, ran into Mrs. Holden, whom he astonished by +saluting on the cheek, and astonished even more by asking her to tell +Silas to drive his black horses to Gabriel Post's house--as the cottage +was still known in Brampton. And having hastily removed some of the +cinders, he flew out of the door and reached the park-like space in the +middle of Brampton Street. Then he tried to walk decorously, but it was +hard work. What if she should not be in? + +The door and windows of the little house were open that balmy afternoon, +and the bees were buzzing among the flowers which Cynthia had planted on +either side of the step. Bob went up the path, and caught a glimpse of +her through the entry standing in the sitting room. She was, indeed, +waiting for the Coniston stage, and she did not see him. Shall I destroy +the mental image of the reader who has known her so long by trying to +tell what she looked like? Some heroines grow thin and worn by the +troubles which they are forced to go through. Cynthia was not this kind +of a heroine. She was neither tall nor short, and the dark blue gown +which she wore set off (so Bob thought) the curves of her figure to +perfection. Her face had become a little more grave--yes, and more +noble; and the eyes and mouth had an indescribable, womanly sweetness. + +He stood for a moment outside the doorway gazing at her; hesitating to +desecrate that revery, which seemed to him to have a touch of sadness in +it. And then she turned her head, slowly, and saw him, and her lips +parted, and a startled look came into her eyes, but she did not move. He +came quickly into the room and stopped again, quivering from head to foot +with the passion which the sight of her never failed to unloose within +him. Still she did not speak, but her lip trembled, and the love leaping +in his eyes kindled a yearning in hers,--a yearning she was powerless to +resist. He may by that strange power have drawn her toward him--he never +knew. Neither of them could have given evidence on that marvellous +instant when the current bridged the space between them. He could not +say whether this woman whom he had seized by force before had shown alike +vitality in her surrender. He only knew that her arms were woven about +his neck, and that the kiss of which he had dreamed was again on his +lips, and that he felt once more her wonderful, supple body pressed +against his, and her heart beating, and her breast heaving. And he knew +that the strength of the love in her which he had gained was beyond +estimation. + +Thus for a time they swung together in ethereal space, breathless with +the motion of their flight. The duration of such moments is--in words-- +limitless. Now he held her against him, and again he held her away that +his eyes might feast upon hers until she dropped her lashes and the +crimson tide flooded into her face and she hid it again in the refuge she +had longed for,--murmuring his name. But at last, startled by some sound +without and so brought back to earth, she led him gently to the window at +the side and looked up at him searchingly. He was tanned no longer. + +"I was afraid you had been working too hard," she said. + +"So you do love me?" was Bob's answer to this remark. + +Cynthia smiled at him with her eyes: gravely, if such a thing may be said +of a smile. + +"Bob, how can you ask?" + +"Oh, Cynthia," he cried, "if you knew what I have been through, you +wouldn't have held out, I know it. I began to think I should never have +you." + +"But you have me now," she said, and was silent. + +"Why do you look like that?" he asked. + +She smiled up at him again. + +"I, too, have suffered, Bob," she said. "And I have thought of you night +and day." + +"God bless you, sweetheart," he cried, and kissed her again,--many times. +"It's all right now, isn't it? I knew my father would give his consent +when he found out what you were." + +The expression of pain which had troubled him crossed her face again, and +she put her hand on his shoulder. + +"Listen, dearest," she said, "I love you. I am doing this for you. You +must understand that." + +"Why, yes, Cynthia, I understand it--of course I do," he answered, +perplexed. "I understand it, but I don't deserve it." + +"I want you to know," she continued in a low voice, "that I should have +married you anyway. I--I could not have helped it." + +"Cynthia!" + +"If you were to go back to the locomotive works' tomorrow, I would marry +you." + +"On ninety dollars a month?" exclaimed Bob. + +"If you wanted me," she said. + +"Wanted you! I could live in a log cabin with you the rest of my life." + +She drew down his face to hers, and kissed him. + +"But I wished you to be reconciled with your father," she said; "I could +not bear to come between you. You--you are reconciled, aren't you?" + +"Indeed, we are," he said. + +"I am glad, Bob," she answered simply. "I should not have been happy if +I had driven you away from the place where you should be, which is your +home." + +"Wherever you are will be my home; sweetheart," he said, and pressed her +to him once more. + +At length, looking past his shoulder into the street, she saw Lem +Hallowell pulling up the Brampton stage before the door. + +"Bob," she said, "I must go to Coniston and see Uncle Jethro. I promised +him." + +Bob's answer was to walk into the entry, where he stood waving the most +joyous of greetings at the surprised stage driver. + +"I guess you won't get anybody here, Lem," he called out. + +"But, Bob," protested Cynthia, from within, afraid to show her face just +then, "I have to go, I promised. And--and I want to go," she added when +he turned. + +"I'm running a stage to Coniston to-day myself, Lem," said he "and I'm +going to steal your best passenger." + +Lemuel immediately flung down his reins and jumped out of the stage and +came up the path and into the entry, where he stood confronting Cynthia. + +"Hev you took him, Cynthy?" he demanded. + +"Yes, Lem," she answered, "won't you congratulate me?" + +The warm-hearted stage driver did congratulate her in a most unmistakable +manner. + +"I think a sight of her, Bob," he said after he had shaken both of Bob's +hands and brushed his own eyes with his coat sleeve. "I've knowed her so +long--" Whereupon utterance failed him, and he ran down the path and +jumped into his stage again and drove off. + +And then Cynthia sent Bob on an errand--not a very long one, and while he +was gone, she sat down at the table and tried to realize her happiness, +and failed. In less than ten minutes Bob had come back with Cousin +Ephraim, as fast as he could hobble. He flung his arms around her, stick +and all, and he was crying. It is a fact that old soldiers sometimes +cry. But his tears did not choke his utterance. + +"Great Tecumseh!" said Cousin Ephraim, "so you've went and done it, +Cynthy. Siege got a little mite too hot. I callated she'd capitulate in +the end, but she held out uncommon long." + +"That she did," exclaimed Bob, feelingly. + +"I--I was tellin' Bob I hain't got nothin' against him," continued +Ephraim. + +"Oh, Cousin Eph," said Cynthia, laughing in spite of herself, and +glancing at Bob, "is that all you can say?" + +"Cousin Eph's all right," said Bob, laughing too. "We understand each +other." + +"Callate we do," answered Ephraim. "I'll go so far as to say there +hain't nobody I'd ruther see you marry. Guess I'll hev to go back to the +kit, now. What's to become of the old pensioner, Cynthy?" + +"The old pensioner needn't worry," said Cynthia. + +Then drove up Silas the Silent, with Bob's buggy and his black trotters. +All of Brampton might see them now; and all of Brampton did see them. +Silas got out,--his presence not being required,--and Cynthia was helped +in, and Bob got in beside her, and away they went, leaving Ephraim waving +his stick after them from the doorstep. + +It is recorded against the black trotters that they made very poor time +to Coniston that day, though I cannot discover that either of them was +lame. Lem Hallowell, who was there nearly an hour ahead of them, +declares that the off horse had a bunch of branches in his mouth. +Perhaps Bob held them in on account of the scenery that September +afternoon. Incomparable scenery! I doubt if two lovers of the +renaissance ever wandered through a more wondrous realm of pleasance-- +to quote the words of the poet. Spots in it are like a park, laid out by +that peerless landscape gardener, nature: dark, symmetrical pine trees on +the sward, and maples in the fulness of their leaf, and great oaks on the +hillsides, and, coppices; and beyond, the mountain, the evergreens massed +like cloud-shadows on its slopes; and all-trees and coppice and mountain +--flattened by the haze until they seemed woven in the softest of blues +and blue greens into one exquisite picture of an ancient tapestry. +I, myself, have seen these pictures in that country, and marvelled. + +So they drove on through that realm, which was to be their realm, and +came all too soon to Coniston green. Lem Hallowell had spread the well- +nigh incredible news, that Cynthia Wetherell was to marry the son of the +mill-owner and railroad president of Brampton, and it seemed to Cynthia +that every man and woman and child of the village was gathered at the +store. Although she loved them, every one, she whispered something to +Bob when she caught sight of that group on the platform, and he spoke to +the trotters. Thus it happened that they flew by, and were at the +tannery house before they knew it; and Cynthia, all unaided, sprang out +of the buggy and ran in, alone. She found Jethro sitting outside of the +kitchen door with a volume on his knee, and she saw that the print of it +was large, and she knew that the book was "Robinson Crusoe." + +Cynthia knelt down on the grass beside him and caught his hands in hers. + +"Uncle Jethro," she said, "I am going to marry Bob Worthington." + +"Yes, Cynthy," he answered. And taking the initiative for the first time +in his life, he stooped down and kissed her. + +"I knew--you would be happy--in my happiness," she said, the tears +brimming in her eyes. + +"N-never have been so happy, Cynthy,--never have." + +"Uncle Jethro, I never will desert you. I shall always take care of +you." + +"R-read to me sometimes, Cynthy--r-read to me?" + +But she could not answer him. She was sobbing on the pages of that book +he had given her--long ago. + +I like to dwell on happiness, and I am reluctant to leave these people +whom I have grown to love. Jethro Bass lived to take Cynthia's children +down by the brook and to show them the pictures, at least, in that +wonderful edition of "Robinson Crusoe." He would never depart from the +tannery house, but Cynthia went to him there, many times a week. There +is a spot not far from the Coniston road, and five miles distant alike +from Brampton and Coniston, where Bob Worthington built his house, and +where he and Cynthia dwelt many years; and they go there to this day, in +the summer-time. It stands in the midst of broad lands, and the ground +in front of it slopes down to Coniston Water, artificially widened here +by a stone dam into a little lake. From the balcony of the summer-house +which overhangs the lake there is a wonderful view of Coniston Mountain, +and Cynthia Worthington often sits there with her sewing or her book, +listening to the laughter of her children, and thinking, sometimes, of +bygone days. + + + + +AFTERWORD + +The reality of the foregoing pages has to the author, at least, become so +vivid that he regrets the necessity of having to add an afterword. Every +novel is, to some extent, a compound of truth and fiction, and he has +done his best to picture conditions as they were, and to make the spirit +of his book true. Certain people who were living in St. Louis during the +Civil War have been mentioned as the originals of characters in "The +Crisis," and there are houses in that city which have been pointed out as +fitting descriptions in that novel. An author has, frequently, people, +houses, and localities in mind when he writes; but he changes them, +sometimes very materially, in the process of literary construction. + +It is inevitable, perhaps, that many people of a certain New England +state will recognize Jethro Bass. There are different opinions extant +concerning the remarkable original of this character; ardent defenders +and detractors of his are still living, but all agree that he was a +strange man of great power. The author disclaims any intention of +writing a biography of him. Some of the things set down in this book he +did, and others he did not do. Some of the anecdotes here related +concerning him are, in the main, true, and for this material the author +acknowledges his indebtedness particularly to Colonel Thomas B. Cheney +of Ashland, New Hampshire, and to other friends who have helped him. +Jethro Bass was typical of his Era, and it is of the Era that this book +attempts to treat. + +Concerning the locality where Jethro Bass was born and lived, it will and +will not be recognized. It would have been the extreme of bad taste to +have put into these pages any portraits which might have offended +families or individuals, and in order that it may be known that the +author has not done so he has written this Afterword. Nor has he +particularly chosen for the field of this novel a state of which he is a +citizen, and for which he has a sincere affection. The conditions here +depicted, while retaining the characteristics of the locality, he +believes to be typical of the Era over a large part of the United States. + +Many of the Puritans who came to New England were impelled to emigrate +from the old country, no doubt, by an aversion to pulling the forelock as +well as by religious principles, and the spirit of these men prevailed +for a certain time after the Revolution was fought. Such men lived and +ruled in Coniston before the rise of Jethro Bass. + +Self-examination is necessary for the moral health of nations as well as +men, and it is the most hopeful of signs that in the United States we are +to-day going through a period of self-examination. + +We shall do well to ascertain the causes which have led us gradually to +stray from the political principles laid down by our forefathers for all +the world to see. Some of us do not even know what those principles +were. I have met many intelligent men, in different states of the Union, +who could not even repeat the names of the senators who sat for them in +Congress. Macaulay said, in 1852, "We now know, by the clearest of all +proof, that universal suffrage, even united with secret voting, is no +security, against the establishment of arbitrary power." To quote James +Russell Lowell, writing a little later: "We have begun obscurely to +recognize that . . . popular government is not in itself a panacea, is no +better than any other form except as the virtue and wisdom of the people +make it so." + +As Americans, we cannot but believe that our political creed goes down in +its foundations to the solid rock of truth. One of the best reasons for +our belief lies in the fact that, since 1776, government after government +has imitated our example. We have, by our very existence and rise to +power, made any decided retrogression from these doctrines impossible. +So many people have tried to rule themselves, and are still trying, that +one begins to believe that the time is not far distant when the United +States, once the most radical, will become the most conservative of +nations. + +Thus the duty rests to-day, more heavily than ever, upon each American +citizen to make good to the world those principles upon which his +government was built. To use a figure suggested by the calamity which +has lately befallen one of the most beloved of our cities, there is a +theory that earthquakes are caused by a necessary movement on the part of +the globe to regain its axis. Whether or not the theory be true, it has +its political application. In America to-day we are trying--whatever the +cost--to regain the true axis established for us by the founders of our +Republic. + +HARLAKENDEN HOUSE, May 7, 1906. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +But I wanted to be happy as long as I could +Even old people may have an ideal +Every novel is, to some extent, a compound of truth and fiction +Life had made a woman of her long ago +Not that I've anything against her personally-- +Stray from the political principles laid down by our forefathers +The one precious gift of life +Though his heart was breaking, his voice was steady + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Coniston, V4 +by Winston Churchill + + + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE SET: + +Books she had known from her earliest infancy +But I wanted to be happy as long as I could +Curiosity as a factor has never, perhaps, been given its proper weight +Even old people may have an ideal +Every novel is, to some extent, a compound of truth and fiction +Fond of her, although she was no more than an episode in his life +Giant pines that gave many a mast to King George's navy +Had exhausted the resources of the little school +He hain't be'n eddicated a great deal +Life had made a woman of her long ago +Not that I've anything against her personally-- +Pious belief in democracy, but with a firmer determination to get on top +Riddle he could not solve--one that was best left alone +Stray from the political principles laid down by our forefathers +That which is the worst cruelty of all--the cruelty of selfishness +The home is the very foundation-rock of the nation +The old soldier found dependence hard to bear +The one precious gift of life +They don't take notice of him, because he don't say much +Though his heart was breaking, his voice was steady +We know nothing of their problems or temptations + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Coniston, Complete +by Winston Churchill + |