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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>THE CALL OF THE SOUTH</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Call of the South" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Robert Lee Durham" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1908" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="Henry Roth" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="45206" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2014-03-24" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Call of the South" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Call of the South" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="south.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2014-03-25T03:55:26.291317+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45206" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Robert Lee Durham" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="Henry Roth" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2014-03-24" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-call-of-the-south"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE CALL OF THE SOUTH</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Call of the South -<br /> -<br />Author: Robert Lee Durham -<br /> -<br />Release Date: March 24, 2014 [EBook #45206] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE CALL OF THE SOUTH</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 70%" id="figure-64"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover art" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover art</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 73%" id="figure-65"> -<span id="hayward-sent-prince-william-after-the-mare-under-pressure-of-the-spur"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HAYWARD ... SENT PRINCE WILLIAM AFTER THE MARE UNDER PRESSURE OF THE SPUR." (See page 114)" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HAYWARD ... SENT PRINCE WILLIAM AFTER THE MARE UNDER PRESSURE OF THE SPUR." (See page </span><a class="italics reference internal" href="#id1">114</a><span class="italics">)</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Call of the -<br />South</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">By</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">Robert Lee Durham</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">Illustrated by -<br />Henry Roth</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">"</span><em class="italics medium">When your Fear Cometh as Desolation and -<br />Your Destruction Cometh as a Whirlwind</em><span class="medium">"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">Boston -<br />L. C. Page & Company -<br />MDCCCCVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyright, 1908 -<br />BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY -<br />(INCORPORATED)</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Entered at Stationers' Hall, London</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">All rights reserved</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">First Impression, March, 1908 -<br />Second Impression, April, 1908</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">COLONIAL PRESS -<br />Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. -<br />Boston, U.S.A.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container dedication"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TO THE -<br />LION OF HIS TRIBE -<br />Stonewall Jackson Durham</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">List of Illustrations</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#hayward-sent-prince-william-after-the-mare-under-pressure-of-the-spur">"HAYWARD ... SENT PRINCE WILLIAM AFTER THE -MARE UNDER PRESSURE OF THE SPUR"</a><span> (See page 114) . . . </span><em class="italics">Frontispiece</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#carried-him-for-forty-yards-or-more-through-the-hurricane-of-lead">"CARRIED HIM FOR FORTY YARDS OR MORE THROUGH -THE HURRICANE OF LEAD"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#his-whip-was-descending-again-when-john-s-pistol-flashed">"HIS WHIP WAS DESCENDING AGAIN WHEN JOHN'S PISTOL FLASHED"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#elise-stopped-short-in-the-doorwayand-turned-quickly-back">"ELISE ... STOPPED SHORT IN THE DOORWAY—AND -TURNED QUICKLY BACK"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-am-his-wife-she-said">"'I AM HIS WIFE,' SHE SAID"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#his-arms-upon-his-desk-and-his-face-upon-his-armdead">"HIS ARMS UPON HIS DESK AND HIS FACE UPON HIS ARM—DEAD"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-i"><span class="bold x-large">The Call of the South</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The President had called upon the Governors for -troops; and the brilliantly lighted armory was -crowded with the citizen-soldiers who followed the -standards of the 71st Ohio, waiting for the bugle to -call them to order for the simple and formal ceremony -of declaring their desire to answer the President's call.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A formal and useless ceremony surely: for it was -a foregone conclusion that this gallant old regiment, -with its heroic record in two wars, would volunteer -to a man. It was no less certain that, presenting -unbroken ranks of willing soldiers, it would be the -first selected by the Governor to assist Uncle Sam's -regulars in impressing upon the Kaiser the length -and breadth and thickness of the Monroe Doctrine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For many bothersome years the claimant nations -had abided by the Hague Tribunal's award, though -with evidently decreasing patience because of -Venezuela's lame compliance with it. Three changes of -government and dwindling revenues had made the -collection of the indebtedness by the agent of the -claimants more and more difficult. Finally on the -6th of January, 191-, Señor Emilio Mañana -executed his coup d'état, overthrew the existing -government, declared himself Protector of Venezuela, and -"for the people of Venezuela repudiated every act -and agreement of the spurious governments of the last -decade," seized the customs, and gave the agent of the -creditor allies his passports in a manner more effective -than ceremonious: all of this with his weather eye -upon the Monroe Doctrine and a Washington -administration in some need of a rallying cry and a -diverting issue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Kaiser's patience was exhausted, and his army -and navy were in the pink of condition. On the 10th -of January his ministers informed the allies that their -most august sovereign would deal henceforth with -Venezuela as might seem to him best to protect -Germany's interests and salve the Empire's honour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In less than a week the President sent to Congress -a crisp message, saying that the Kaiser and the great -doctrine were in collision. The Senate resolution -declaring war was adopted after being held up long -enough to permit fifty-one Senators to embalm their -patriotism in the </span><em class="italics">Congressional Record</em><span>, and, being -sent to the House, was concurred in in ten minutes -after the clerk began to read the preamble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The country was a-tremble with the thrill and -excitement of a man who is preparing to go against an -antagonist worthy of his mettle, and in the 71st's -armory a crowd of people jammed the balconies to -the last inch. The richly varicoloured apparel of -the women, in vivid contrast to the sombre walls of -the armory, the kaleidoscopic jumble and whirl of -soldiers in dress uniforms on the floor, the frequent -outbursts of hand-clapping and applause as favourite -officers of the regiment were recognized by the -galleries, the surging and unceasing din and hubbub of -the shouting and gesticulating mass of people on floor -and balcony, gave the scene a holiday air which really -belied the feelings of the greater number both of -soldiers and onlookers. There was a serious thought -in almost every mind: but serious thoughts are not -welcome at such times to a man who has already -decided to tender his life to his country, nor to the -woman who knows that she must say good-bye to him -on the morrow. So they both try to overwhelm -unwelcome reflections by excited chatter and patriotic -enthusiasm. They will think of to-morrow when it -comes: let the clamour go on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the very front seat and leaning over the balcony -rail are seated three women who receive more than -the ordinary number of salutes and greetings from the -officers and men on the floor. Two young women -and their mother they are, and any one of the three -is worthy of a second glance by right of her looks. -The mother, who, were it not for the becoming -fulness of her matronly figure, might be mistaken for -an elder sister of the older daughter, has a face in -which strength and dignity and gentleness and -kindliness and a certain air of distinction proclaim her a -gentlewoman of that fineness which is Nature's -patent of nobility. The older daughter is a young -woman of eighteen years perhaps, inheriting her -mother's distinction of manner and dignity of -carriage, and showing a trace of hauteur, attributable -to her youth, which is continually striving with a -spirit of mischief for possession of her gray eyes and -her now solemn, now laughing mouth. The younger -daughter, hardly more than a child, has an undeveloped -but fast ripening beauty which her sister cannot -be said to possess. They have gray eyes and erect -figures in common; but there the likeness ceases. -The younger girl's mass of hair, impatient of its -braids, looks black in the artificial light; but three -hours ago, with the setting sun upon it, a stranger -had thought it was red. Her skin indeed, where it is -not tinted with rose, is of that rare whiteness which -sometimes goes with red hair, but never unaccompanied -by perfect health. She has been straining her -eyes in search of some one since the moment she -entered the gallery, and finally asks impatiently, -"Why doesn't papa come out where we can see him? -The people would shout for him, I know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be a fidget," answers her sister in a low -voice, "he will come presently;" and continues, "I -declare, mamma, I believe Helen thinks all these -soldiers are just for papa's glorification, and that if -papa failed to volunteer the country would be lost."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, there isn't any one to take his place in the -regiment, for I heard Captain Elkhard say so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Captain Elkhard would except himself, I suppose, -even though he thought like you that papa is -perfection."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and I suppose that you would except -Mr. Second Lieutenant Morgan, wouldn't you? Humph! he -is too young sort, too much like a lady-killer to -be a soldier. I don't care if I do think papa is -perfection. He is most—isn't he, mamma?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A roar of applause drowns the mother's amused -assent; and they look up to see this father, the colonel -of the 71st, uncover for a moment to the noisy -greeting whose vigour seems to stamp with approval his -younger daughter's good opinion of him. In a -moment a trumpet-call breaks through and strikes down -and overwhelms all this clamour of applause, and -there is no sound save the hurrying into ranks of the -men on the floor. Then comes the confused shouting -of a dozen roll-calls at once, the cracking of the -rifle-butts on the floor, the boisterous counting of -fours, a succession of sharp commands and -trumpet-calls,—and the noise and confusion grow rapidly less -until only is heard the voice of the adjutant as he -salutes and presents the regiment in line of masses to -the colonel, saying, "Sir, the regiment is formed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A short command brings the rifles to the floor, and -there is absolute quiet as every one waits to catch -each word that its commander will say in asking the -regiment to volunteer. But Colonel Phillips knows -the value of the psychological moment and the part -that emotion plays in patriotism, and he does not -intend to lose a feather-weight of force in his appeal to -the loyal spirits of his men. So he brings the guns -again quickly to salute as the colour-guard emerge -from an office door behind him, bearing "Old Glory" -and the 71st's regimental colours; and, turning, he -presents his sword as the field music sounds </span><em class="italics">To the -Colour</em><span> and the bullet-torn standards sweep proud -and stately to their posts in the centre battalion. -This sudden and unexpected adaptation of the -ceremony for </span><em class="italics">The Escort of the Colour</em><span>, which for lack -of space is never attempted in the armory, is not -without effect. The men in the ranks, being -restrained, are bursting to yell. The onlookers, free -to cheer, cannot express by cheap hand-clapping what -wells up in them at sight of the flags, and they, too, -are silent. When the rifle-butts again rest on the -floor the Colonel begins his soldierly brief address:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The President has asked the Governor for six -regiments. While under the terms of their enlistment -he could name any he might choose, he prefers volunteer -soldiers as far as may be. So you are here this -evening to indicate the extent of your willingness and -wishfulness to answer the President's call. I need -make no appeal to you. The 71st is a representative -regiment in its personnel. Its men are of all sections -and classes and parties. My mother was a South -Carolinian, my father from Massachusetts. Your -colour-sergeant is a Texan, and your regimental colours are -borne by a native of Ohio, grandson of him who placed -those colours on the Confederate earthworks at -Petersburg. You in the aggregate most fitly represent the -sentiment of the whole people of this union of states. -This sentiment is a loyalty that has never to this -moment failed to answer a call to arms. It is not to be -supposed that the present generation is degenerate -either in courage or patriotism. When the trumpet -sounds </span><em class="italics">forward</em><span> the ranks will stand fast, and such as -for any reason may not volunteer will fall out to the -rear and retire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the lilting call there was silence for ten seconds, -in which not a breath was taken by man or woman in -the house: then the galleries broke out to cheer. Not -a man had moved; though not a few felt as did -Corporal Billie Catling, who remarked to his chum when -the ranks were dismissed, "It's going to be devilish -hard for my folks to get along without my salary; -but to fall out to the rear when that bugle said -'forward'—damned if I could do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of the most deeply interested spectators of the -scene in the armory had stood back against the wall -in the gallery during the whole time, and had apparently -not wished to be brought into notice of the crowd, -mostly women, packed in the limited gallery space. -His goodly length enabled him to see over the heads -of the other spectators everything of interest -happening on the floor. A long overcoat could not conceal -his perfectly developed outlines; and many heads were -turned to look a second time at him, attracted both -by his appearance and by the fact that he seemed to -be an utter stranger to every one around him, not -having changed his position nor spoken to a soul since -coming up into the gallery. He was broad of -shoulder, full-chested, straight-backed, with a head -magnificently set on; and had closely cropped black hair -showing a decided tendency to curl, dark eyes, evenly -set teeth as white as a fox-hound's, a clean-shaved -face neither full nor lean, and pleasing to look upon, -a complexion of noticeable darkness, yet all but white -and without a trace of colour. While nine-tenths of -the people who saw him that evening had no impression -at all as to his race or nationality, an observant -eye would have noted that he was unobtrusively but -unmistakably a negro.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had been quite unconscious of anything around -him in his absorbed interest in the ceremony below -him. This manifest interest was evidenced by his -nervous hands which he clinched and opened and shut -as varying expressions of enthusiasm, resentment and -disappointment, humiliation, disdain and -determination came and went over his face. He, Hayward -Graham, had applied to enlist in this regiment a month -before, and had been refused admission because of the -small portion of negro blood in his veins,—and that -in a manner, too, that added unnecessary painfulness -to the refusal. He rather despised himself for coming -to witness the regiment's response to the call for -troops, but his patriotic interest and his love for his -friend Hal Lodge, who had loyally assisted his effort -to enlist in the 71st, overcame his pride, and he had -come to see the decision of Hal's enthusiastic wager -that nine-tenths of the regiment would volunteer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first trumpet-call had stirred his enthusiasm, -only to have it turned to chagrin and resentfulness -when the roll-calls brought to him the realization that -his name was not among the elect, and the black -humiliation of the thought that he might not even offer -to die for his country in this select company because -he was part—so small a part—negro; and he -gnawed his lips in irritation. But when the flags had -come in so suddenly—he involuntarily straightened -up and took in his breath quickly to relieve the -smothering sensation in his throat, and forgot his wrongs in -an exaltation of patriotic fervour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood abstracted for some time after the -outflow from the galleries began, and came down just -behind the three women of the Colonel's family. At -the foot of the stairs Lieutenant Morgan met the -party and said, "Mrs. Phillips, the Colonel told me to -bring you ladies over to his office."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that's the Colonel's wife and daughters," -thought Graham, as he passed out into the street. -"Where have I seen that little one?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After lingering at the entrance of the armory for -a few minutes to see Hal Lodge, and failing to find -him, Graham, still gloomily and resentfully meditating -upon his rejection by the regiment, started briskly -toward the temporary lodgings of his mother and -himself as if he had some purpose in mind. Arrived -there, he began catechizing her even while removing -his overcoat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, mother, put down that work for -awhile, and tell me all about my people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, Hayward? What do you want to -know?" his mother asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want you to tell me all about my father and -grandfathers and grandmothers, everything you know—who -they were, and what they were, and what they -did, and where they lived—the whole thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what is the matter that you want to know -all that at once? Are you still worrying about not -getting into that regiment?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I want to know why I am not good enough -to go to war along with respectable people—if there -is any reason."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Honey, you are just as good as any of them, and -better than most. I wouldn't think about it any more -if I were you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm not going to think about it any -more—after to-night; but I want to know all about it -right now. Where was father from? You have -never told me that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, honey, I don't know myself; for he never -told me nor any one else that. All I know is that -something—he never would say what—made him -leave his father and mother when he was not twenty -years old and he never saw them afterwards,—didn't -let them know where he was or even that he -was alive. Your pa was mighty high-spirited, and -he never seemed to forget whatever it was that came -between him and his father; though he would talk -about him some too, and appeared to worship his -mother's memory. They must have been very prominent -people from what he said of them. His mother -died very soon after he left home, he told me; and -your grandfather was killed not long after that in a -battle right at the beginning of the war, I've heard -him say; but he didn't seem to like to talk of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't father say which side my grandfather was on?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On our side—the Union side."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And father was in the war?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but I forget what he did. He had some sort -of a badge or medal tied up with a red, white and -blue ribbon that I found in his trunk after he died; -but I gave it to you to play with when you were little -and you lost it. That had something to do with the -war, but I didn't understand exactly what. He didn't -like to talk about the war. When we were first -married he used to say that the war was the first battle -and the easiest, and that he was enlisted for the -second and intended to see it through. But before he -died I often heard him say that the war was only -clearing away the brush, and what the crop would be -depended on what was planted and how it was tended, -and that his great-grandchildren might see the harvest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you first meet him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down in Alabama. He went down there soon -after the war to teach school, just as I did. I had -been to college and got my diploma and I wanted to -teach; but it seemed I could not get a position in the -whole State of New Hampshire. So when some of -the people offered to send me down to Alabama to -teach the negroes, I went. Your father had a school -for negroes not very far from mine, and he had had -a hard time from the very first. None of the -respectable white people would have anything to do with -him, and he could not get board from any one but -negroes. But the worse the people treated him the -harder he worked, and his school grew. Finally it -became so large that he could not do the work alone. -He tried every way to get another teacher, but could -not. As a last resort he asked me to combine my -school with his and see if we could not manage in -that way to teach all the children who came. I never -saw anybody with a heart so set as his was on giving -every little negro a chance to learn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So we combined the schools and were getting -along very well when one day as your father was -coming out of the post-office in the little town near -which we taught, a young man named Bush stepped -up in front of him and cursed him and said something -about me that your father never would tell me. Your -father knocked him down and he was nearly killed -by striking his head against a hitching-post as he fell. -The next morning a committee of some of the citizens -came to the schoolhouse, and Colonel Allen, who was -one of them, told your father that the community -was greatly aroused by the condition of affairs, and -that the injury done to young Bush, while they didn't -approve of Bush's conduct, had brought the trouble -to a head. He said that sober-minded citizens didn't -want any outbreak, but that the peculiar relation -existing between your father and me outraged the -sentiments of every respectable man and woman in the -county."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did father hit him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, honey; but he rose right up without waiting -to hear any more and told Colonel Allen that as for -the injury to young Bush he had done nothing more -than defend the good name of a woman and had no -apologies or explanations to offer. He talked quite -a long time to them, and I could see that they didn't -like some of the things he said. As he finished he -told them that he could see that our condition, cut off -as we were from association with respectable people -by prejudice and from the lower classes because of -their dense ignorance, and thrown into intimacy by -our work, was somewhat unusual, but that was -because of conditions we could not control and be true -to our work. He would try to arrange, he told them, -if they would give him a week, so that there would -be no grounds for these criticisms. They asked him -what he proposed to do, but he said he couldn't -answer them then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They gave him the week he asked for, and left -us. He dismissed the school when the committee was -gone, and when all the children had scampered out of -the schoolhouse he told me that while we could not -be blamed for the way things had come about, it was -true that our being so much together and cut off from -everybody else gave our critics a chance to talk, and -his solution of the difficulty was for us to be married—at -once. He went on to say a whole lot of things, -honey, that I never imagined he thought of, and -wound up by declaring that I owed it to the work -we had begun to make any sacrifices to carry it on. -Now, honey, there was never a better, braver man -than your father, nor a better looking one, I think, -and there was no reason why I should not love him. -I was younger then than I am now and I was not a -bad-looking girl myself, and I did not think till long -afterwards that when he spoke of my sacrifices he -was thinking of his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he made what arrangements were necessary -that evening, and we were married by a Bureau -officer of some kind or other next morning before time -for school. When school assembled he sent a note -by one of the boys to Colonel Allen, saying that we -had arranged the matter so that there could be no -further objection to our running the school in -together, and informed him that we were married."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what reply did Colonel Allen send to that -note?" Hayward asked his mother with great interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He didn't send any," she replied; "but came -along with some others of the committee in about -half an hour to bring his answer himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did he say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he started off by saying to your father that -there could be no doubt that what we had done would -make the people forget their former objections, but -he thought it would be because the former offence -against their notions of propriety would be lost sight -of in their unspeakable indignation at this method -we had adopted, which, he said, struck at the very -foundation of their civilization. He talked very high -and mighty, I thought, and though he pretended to -try to hold himself down and not get mad, he ripped -and charged a long time right there before the whole -school, and finally told us he would do all he could -to keep the people from doing us harm, but he -advised us to leave the community just as soon as we -could, as he wouldn't be responsible for the result of -our act."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did father say to that?" Hayward asked -eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he waited until Colonel Allen got through -and then said very quietly that he had done what he -had because he had appreciated the force of the -objections that had been raised to our intimate -association and was always willing to be governed by the -proprieties, but that he did not agree with Colonel -Allen about uprooting any principle of civilization, -that times and conditions had changed, and, while he -knew the sentiment of the people would be against -our marriage, he thought that sentiment was wrong -and would have to give way before the pressure of -the new order of things, that the law had married us -and we would look to the law to protect us. He said -that the work we were doing was worthy of any -man's effort, that he had consecrated himself to it and -was not going to be driven from it by any predictions -of danger, that I was his wife and he would protect me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did the honourable committee think of that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. Colonel Allen and the other men -just turned around without saying another word and -left the schoolhouse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you run the school on after that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, honey, but not for long. One night when -those awful people came to destroy things at the -schoolhouse as they had done several times before, -your father was there to meet them and identify them. -Instead of running away as he thought they would, -they crowded around him, and after a struggle in -the dark they left him lying just outside the door with -a broken arm, a pistol-ball through his side, and -unconscious from a lick on the head. Some of the -coloured people who lived near there heard the row, -and after it was all over and all those folks were gone, -they slipped up there and found your father and -brought him home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was hard for us to get a doctor at first. A -young one who lived nearest to us wouldn't come, -though we sent for him, and we were all frightened -nearly to death. We could hear those awful people -yell every once and awhile away off on all sides of -the house, then they would fire off guns and -pistols—it was an awful night, Hayward. At last old -Doctor Wright came about three o'clock in the -morning. He lived ten miles or more from us, and we -thought that your father, who was raving and moaning, -would surely die before he got there. But the -old doctor told us as soon as he examined him that -he would pull through all right. He said that he had -been a surgeon in Stonewall Jackson's corps and that -he had seen men forty times worse hurt back in the -army in two months. That made us feel a great deal -better, I tell you. Your father came to his senses -before the old man quit working with him, and when -he heard that the young doctor had refused to come -to see him (because he was scared, the negro who -went for him said), and that the old man had ridden -so far through a very cold and wet night to help him, -I never heard any one say more to express his thanks -than your father did. The old doctor listened to it -all without making any answer except an occasional -grunt. When he got ready to go home I asked him -if he would not prefer to wait till daylight, for fear -those awful men would hurt him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And did he wait?" interrupted Graham.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. He stiffened up as straight as his rheumatism -would let him and stumped indignantly out of -the house with his pill-bags in one hand and in the -other an old pair of home-knit woollen gloves he -wouldn't stop to put on—I can see him now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he ever come back?" asked Graham.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes. The sight of him on his tall pacing bay -mare made us glad every two or three days till your -father got well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The old doctor evidently didn't agree with his -neighbours about you and father, then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know about that. He never would -discuss our troubles or speak any words of sympathy; -and on the last day he came, when your father was -thanking him as he had done so often for his kindness -to him, the old man asked him in his rather curt -manner, 'Don't they need school-teachers up north?'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you and father leave that place as soon as -he got well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Your father said that we would stick to it -to the end; and as soon as he was able to teach we -opened the school again, but in less than a week the -schoolhouse was burned down. We rented another -after some trouble, but that was burned promptly -also. Then it became impossible to get one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We decided it would be best for us to go away -to some place where the people were not prejudiced -against us. We moved more than a dozen times, but -were never able to stay longer than a few months at -most, and often had to pack up almost before we -finished unpacking. Finally we lost all hope of being -able to teach the negroes in the South, and decided -to go home. Your father did go so far as to suggest -that if I would go back North and leave him down -there alone the people might not molest him. He -certainly did have his heart in the work. As I did -not like the idea, however, he dropped it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that's when father got the professorship at -Oberlin?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; and kept it till his death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can hardly recollect father at all," said the son, -"though it seems sometimes I remember how he -looked. I wish I could have been older before he died."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you were not two years old at your father's -death, Hayward, and really saw very little of -him. He never seemed to care for children. Your -two sisters that died before you were born—it -seemed that sometimes a week would pass without -his being conscious that they were in the house. He -was so absorbed in his work that he didn't have time -for anything else. His hard work and disappointment -over the failure that he had made down South -was what killed him, I have always thought. Though -he lingered for many years, he was so broken-spirited -after we went to Ohio that his health gave way, and -he was not more than a shadow when he died. I -am not sorry that you do not remember how he looked -at the last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, honey," the mother continued after some -moments of silence, "you ought to be proud of your -father. I wish you could have heard the funeral -sermon Doctor Johnson preached. He did not say -anything about your father's being in the war of the -rebellion, but he told about his trials and struggles -to teach the negroes in the South, and said that in -that work John Graham was as much a soldier and -was as brave and faithful as any man who ever fought -for the flag. If these folks here could have heard -that sermon they never would have voted to keep you -from joining the regiment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it's not because of what my father did or did -not do," said Graham impatiently; "nor is it because -of what I've done or left undone, nor of what they -think I would do or would not do if they kindly -permitted me to enlist. No, no. It's because I'm part -negro—though I'm quite as white as a number I saw -there to-night. Now, mother, exactly how much negro -am I? You've told me your father was a white man; -but who was your mother, and what do you know -about her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my father was a white man. He was a -German just come over to this country. He had a -beer saloon in a New Hampshire town—at least he -bought it afterwards. He worked in the saloon when -my mother, who had run away from Kentucky, was -hired to work in his employer's house. He boarded -there and she was treated something like a member -of the family, although she was a servant, and they -were married after awhile. Some few of the people -didn't like it, I've heard mammy say, but they got -along without any trouble; and when my father -saved up some money he bought the little saloon from -his employer and made some little money before he -died. We had a hard enough time getting it, though, -goodness knows. I moved back to New Hampshire -from Ohio after your father's death in order to push -the case through the—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, I've heard that before," said Hayward; -"but tell me about your mother's running away from -her master. You have never told me anything about -her, except that her name was Cindy or Lucinda, and -that she belonged to General Young."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, honey, she was just a slave girl that -belonged to General Young over in Kentucky. She -ran away and got across the river without being -caught, and some of the white people helped her to -get on as far as New Hampshire and got her that -place to work where my father boarded. She and -my father were—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, I know," the son interrupted again, -"but what made her run away and leave her father -and mother—did she know her father and mother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know that I remember it all," said the -mother evasively, "and it doesn't make any difference -anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, go on and tell what you know or have -heard. Let's get at the bottom of it. I declare I -believe you don't like my being a negro any better than -those dudes in the 71st."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mother laughed at his statement; and seemed -pleased at the interruption, for she made no move to -proceed with the narrative. Graham looked at her -quietly a few moments, and, ascribing her reticence to -unwillingness to descant upon the negro element in her -ancestry, which was indeed a part but a very small part -of her motive, repeated his demand for information -sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, honey," cried his mother, "don't ask me any -more about it. I just made mammy tell me all about -her father and mother and her running away from -Kentucky, and I wish to the Lord I never had! It -was just awful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So! Well, now I must know. Go on and tell it. -The quicker you do the sooner it will be over. Go -on, I say. What was your mother's father named?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gumbo—Guinea Gumbo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poetic name that! And her mother's name, what -was it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Big Lize."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so poetic, though it sounds like some poetry -I've read, too. And now what did this pair do or suffer -that was so terrible? It's no use dodging any longer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, child, if I must, I suppose I must. My -mother's mother didn't do anything that was awful; -but Guinea Gumbo—I wish I knew I was no kin to -him. Mammy said he was brought right from Africa -and was as wild as a wolf. Nobody could understand -much that he said, and General Young had a time -keeping him from tearing things up. He used to run -away and stay in the swamp for weeks at a time. The -children on the place, black and white, were as scared -of him as death, and none of the slave women would -ever go about him if they could help it. Not long -after General Young bought him, Gumbo and his first -wife, who was brought over from Africa with him, -had the plans all fixed to steal one of the General's -little boys, five or six years old, and carry him off to -the river-swamp and have a regular cannibal feast of -him. General Young found it out in time; and -mammy said the old negroes on the plantation said -that was what killed the woman, the whipping she and -Gumbo got for it. It laid Gumbo up for a long time, -but he got over it. It seemed that nothing but -shooting could kill him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did they shoot him to kill him? What was that -for?" asked Graham.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Honey, that is the awful part of it. Mammy said -that one day her young mistis, the General's oldest -daughter, didn't come home from a ride she had taken, -and the whole plantation was turned out to find her. -But some one came along and told the General that she -had eloped across the river with a young man he had -forbidden to come on the place, and all the people on -the plantation went back to their quarters. As the -young man could not be found, everybody thought that -he and Miss Lily had run away and married and were -too much afraid of her father to come back home. -The next day, however, the young man turned up, and -swore he had not seen Miss Lily in a week. Then the -plantation was in terror.—Honey, I can't tell you -the rest.—They found her.—When they were -calling out all the people from the quarters, the -General learned that Gumbo had not been seen since Miss -Lily was lost. He had run away so often that no -attention was paid to it, for he always came back after -a time.—They got the bloodhounds, mammy said, -and went to the swamp. After a long time the dogs -struck Gumbo's trail, and—yes, they found her,—tied -hands and feet and her clothing torn to strings, -in a kind of hut made of bark and brush way back in -the swamp. She was dead, but she had not been dead -an hour, from a gash in her head made by an axe. -The dogs followed a hot scent from the hut for -another hour, and led the men to where they had run -Gumbo down. That was where they shot him—and -left him. He still had the axe, and had killed one of -the dogs, and nobody could get to him. They didn't -want to, I suppose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Graham had listened to his mother's last words -without breathing, and when she stopped he dropped -his face in his hands with a groan.... She began -again in a few moments:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mammy said that when they brought her young -mistis back home the General went off in a fit, and -raved and cursed till the doctors and the rest of 'em -had to hold him to keep him from killing somebody. -Mammy was one of her old mistis's house-girls, and -she heard all the General's ravings and screams that -he would kill every nigger on the place; and he kept -it up so long and kept breaking out again so after -they thought they had him pacified that mammy said -she was scared so bad she just couldn't stay there -any longer: and that's what made her run away the -very next night. She had a hard time getting across -the river, but after she got over safe she didn't have -much trouble, for some of the white people took -charge of her and helped her to get further on north. -Pappy always said—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Lord, that's enough!" the son broke in, -raising his head out of his hands, and interrupting his -mother's flow of words, of which he had noted little -since hearing the tragic story of his savage -great-grandfather. He rose from his chair impatiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I am Hayward Graham, son of Patricia -Schmidt, daughter of Cindy—nothing, daughter of -Gumbo—nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Guinea Gumbo," corrected his mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I beg my distinguished ancestor's pardon for -presuming to credit him with only one name. A -gentleman with his record ought to have as many as -Kaiser Bill," drawled Graham sarcastically. Then -with better humour he said to his mother, "And will -you please to inform me from which of your ancestors -you inherited that name of Patricia?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mammy named me that for her old mistis."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Graham stood for awhile looking at the blank wall. -Then he spoke as if he had settled his problem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes I'm a negro—no doubt about that; and a -negro I'll be from to-morrow morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, honey, you are not going to lower yourself to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no. I'm not going to lower myself to -anything; but I'm going to go with my own crowd, -where I'll not be insulted by people who are no better -than I am. I got along very well at college, but these -people here are different. I'll show 'em. I'll go to -the war, and I'll get as much glory out of it as any -of 'em. My father was a soldier, and his father died -in battle: I rather guess I can't stay out of it. Good -night, mummer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he took himself off to bed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Hayward Graham was twenty-three years old. -He had half finished his senior year at Harvard—with -credit, it must be said—when the imminence -of war drove all desire for study from his mind. He -wrote to Harry Lodge a former college chum who -had graduated in the class ahead of him and gone to -Ohio to make a name for himself—fortune he had -already—and asked that his name be proposed for -membership in Lodge's company of the 71st, as a -regiment most likely to get in the scrimmage when -it came. Lodge had done this and had written to -Graham that doubtless he would be received on the -next meeting night as war was at that time a -certainty. Whereupon Graham had bundled up his -traps and come without delay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Graham's mother also had travelled to Ohio, for -the double purpose of telling her soldier good-bye -and making a passing, and what promised to be a -last visit to some, of her old Oberlin friends, drawing -for expenses upon limited funds she had religiously -hoarded and applied to her son's tuition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her husband had always impressed upon her, and -in his last moment enjoined, that the boy should be -educated; and she had obeyed his wishes to the limit -of her power and as a command from heaven. She -had husbanded her small patrimony, recovered after -a costly suit at law, slow-dragging through the New -Hampshire courts, and had allowed it to accumulate -while her son was in the graded schools against the -time when it would be needed to send him to college. -When that time had come it required no little faith -to see how the small bank account would be sufficient -to meet the expenses of four years at Harvard. She -would better have sent the boy to a less expensive -school, but no: John Graham had gone to Harvard, -and nothing less than Harvard for his son would -satisfy her idea of loyalty to his father's memory and -admonitions. So to Harvard she sent him, while she -planned and worked to stretch and patch out the -limited purse; and—miracle of financiering—she had -fetched him to the half of his last year, and could have -carried him to his graduation and still had enough -dollars left to attend that momentous ceremony in a -new frock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward Graham had repaid his mother's sacrifices -by diligence in his studies. He had been a close -second to the leader of his class at the graded school, an -exemplary and hard-working pupil in the grammar -school, and at college his literary labours were -diminished only by his efforts in athletics, which, indeed, -did his work as a student little serious damage. He -was quick to learn everything that his college career -offered, not only the lore of books, but good-fellowship, -easy manners and how to get on. His naturally -friendly disposition did him little service at first -in finding or making friends at Harvard, where there -seemed to him to be so many desirable circles that -he would be glad to enter, and he had thought for -awhile his colour would bar him from any close -friendships there. However, near the end of his -freshman year he had occasion by personal combat to -demonstrate his willingness to fight for the honour of -his class and to show that his pugilistic powers were -of no mean calibre, by thoroughly dressing down a -couple of sophomores who had held him up to tell -him what they thought of the whole tribe of -freshmen, and who, upon his being so bold as to take issue -with them, had attempted to "regulate" him. -Kind-hearted Harry Lodge, himself a sophomore, had -witnessed the trial of Graham's courage, class loyalty -and fistic abilities, and being struck with admiration -had shaken hands with him and congratulated him -on his prowess. From that moment Graham was by -every token a member of the small coterie known as -"Lodge's Gang," to whom Lodge had introduced -him as "the only freshman I know that's worth a damn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the time of his admission into this set of -good fellows Graham's social side was provided with -all it desired. Lodge and his friends seemed to think -nothing at all of Graham's colour; or, if they did, -made the more of him in their enthusiastic support -of the idea that "a man's a man for a' that." They -had enough rollicking fun to keep their spare hours -filled to the brim and sought the society of women -very seldom; but when they did go to pay their vows -at the shrine of the feminine, Graham was as often -of the party as any other of "the gang."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young women they visited seemed to find no -fault with his coming; for he could do his share of -stunts, had a good voice and a musical ear, and was -never at a loss for something to say, while his colour -meant no more to them than that of a Chinaman or -a Jap. He was promptly and effectually smitten with -each new pretty face that he saw on these occasional -forays, just as were Hal and Jim Aldrich; but his -ever-changing devotions showed plainly that it was -as yet to no one woman, but to women, that his soul -paid homage. As for the young women, any of them -as soon would have thought of marrying one of the -Chinese students in the University as him. In fact -they did not associate him with the matrimonial idea, -but were interested in him as in an unusual species -of that ever-interesting genus, man. They made -quite a lion of him for a time after his performance -in the Harvard-Yale football game of 19—; so much -so that he had become just a mite vain, which -condition of mind precluded his falling in love with -anybody for several weeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was right at the height of his popularity that he -had left Harvard to join the ranks of the 71st. But -Corporal Lodge had written with too much assurance. -Lieutenant Morgan of Lodge's company caught the -sound of that name, Hayward Graham, and remarked -casually, "He has the same name as that Harvard -nigger who was smashed up in the Yale game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some of the men thought the lieutenant said the -applicant was a negro, and began to question Lodge. -When that gentleman stood up to speak for his friend -he quite captured them with his description of -Graham's courage and other excellences, but when he -answered "yes" to a direct question whether his -candidate was a negro, the enthusiasm and Graham's -chance of enlistment in the 71st died together, and -suddenly. Lieutenant Morgan, who was presiding -at the company meeting, sneered, "This is not a -negro regiment," and the ballot was overwhelmingly -adverse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lodge was offended deeply at Graham's rejection, -and said hotly that if the regiment was too good for -Graham it was too good for him, and he would apply -for his discharge at once. Lieutenant Morgan replied -drily that "one pretext is as good as another if a man -really doesn't want to get into the fighting." This -angered Harry to the point of profanity, but he -thought no more of a discharge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This blackballing of his name was Graham's first -rebuff, and it bore hard upon his spirits. He had -never had an occasion to take an inventory of the -elements in his blood, and this sudden jolt to his pride -and eager patriotic impulses made him first angry, -then heart-sick, then cynically scornful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The morning after his mother had gone into the history -of his ancestry, as far as she knew it, he sought -an army recruiting station without delay. The -gray-headed captain in charge did not betray the surprise -he felt when Graham told him he desired to enlist,—his -recruits, especially negroes, did not often come -from the class to which Graham evidently belonged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I join any branch of the service I prefer?" -Hayward asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the officer; and added, as a fleeting -suspicion entered his mind that this negro might intend -passing himself off for a white man if possible, "that -is, of course, infantry or cavalry. There are no -negroes in the artillery."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Graham winced in spite of himself at this blunt -reminder of his compromising blood, and mentally -resented the statement as an unnecessary taunt. But he -had determined to fight for the flag if he had to -swallow his pride, and he was quickly put through all the -necessary formalities of enlistment. His physical -qualifications aroused the unbounded admiration of -the examining surgeon, who called the old captain -back into the room where Graham stood stripped for -the examination, to look upon his perfect physique.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know about that broken leg, though," the -surgeon said. "How long has it been well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've had the full use of it for more than a month -now," Graham answered. "It's as good as the other, -I think. It wasn't such a bad break anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you break it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the Yale game at Cambridge last November."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say," the surgeon broke out, "were you the -Harvard man that was laid out in that last rush?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I saw that game," the surgeon went on; -"and I say, Captain, be sure to assign this young -fellow to a regiment that will get into the scrimmage. -Nothing but the firing-line will suit his style."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which do you prefer, infantry or cavalry?" questioned -the Captain briefly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As I've walked all my life, I think that I'll ride -now that I have the chance," Graham answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well. You are over regulation weight and -length for a trooper, but special orders will let you in -for the war only."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fighting is all I want," said Graham</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," replied the officer. "I'll send you to -the 10th. They have always gotten into it so far, and -likely nobody will miss seeing service in this affair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Graham was given a suit of uniform and ordered -to report morning and afternoon each day till his -squad would be sent to join the regiment. He -carried the uniform to a tailor to have it fitted to his -figure, in which he took some little pride; and lost -no time in getting into it when the tailor had finished -with it, and hurrying to parade himself before his -mother's admiring eyes. That worthy woman was as -proud of him as only a combination of mother love, -womanly admiration for a soldier, and a negro's -surpassing delight in brass buttons, could make her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Graham busied himself with the study of a book -on cavalry tactics borrowed from the old sergeant at -the recruiting station, and with that experienced -soldier's help he picked up in the ten days that elapsed -before he was sent away no little knowledge of the -business before him. He was an enthusiastic student, -took great pains to perfect himself in the ceremonious -side of soldiering, and delighted in the punctilios -which the regulations prescribed. He went at every -opportunity to witness the drills of the national guard -troops who were preparing to leave for the front; -and began to acquire the feeling of superiority which -the regular has for the volunteer, and to sniff at the -little laxities of the guardsmen, and with the air of -a veteran comment sarcastically upon them to the -old sergeant: till he finally persuaded himself that his -good angel had saved him from these amateurs to -make a real soldier of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two days before Graham was sent away the 71st -gave its farewell parade. Graham was there, of -course. It was near sunset. The wide street was -lined with spectators. The ranks were standing at -rest, and the soldiers and their friends were saying -all manner of good-byes. The band was blowing itself -breathless in patriotic selections, and as it crashed -into one after another soldiers and people cheered -and shouted with gathering enthusiasm. Colonel -Phillips, sitting on his horse by his wife's carriage, -said, "Orderly, tell Brandt to play 'Dixie,'" and, -addressing the crowd of friends about him, "My -mother was a South Carolinian," he added jocularly. -When the band burst in on that unaccountably inspiring -air the assemblage stood on its toes to yell and -scream, and the tall Texas colour-sergeant came near -letting "Old Glory" fall in the dust in his -conscientious effort to split his lungs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Graham stood quite near the Colonel and his party, -and was much interested in watching both this man -of whom he had heard Harry Lodge speak so -enthusiastically, and his daughters, Miss Elise and Miss -Helen, who were abundantly attractive on their own -account without the added distinction of being children -of their father. It was interesting to him to note -the differing expressions of patriotic enthusiasm as -it forced itself through the well-bred restraint of the -elder sister or bubbled up unrestrainedly in the -unaffected girlish spirits of Helen. Her spontaneous -outbursts were irresistibly fascinating to him, and he -could hardly avoid staring at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the parade was formed, however, he was true -to his new learning; and after the bugle had sounded -</span><em class="italics">retreat</em><span>, and while the band was swinging slow and -stately through that grandest and most uplifting of -military airs, "The Star-Spangled Banner," he for -the first time had uncovered and stood at </span><em class="italics">attention</em><span>, -erect and steady as a young ash, his heart thumping -like that of a young devotee at his first orison.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he looked up when the band had ceased, he met -the full gaze of Helen Phillips. She was looking -straight at him, with a rapt smile upon her fresh young -face. Then he remembered where he had seen that -face before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was at that Yale game at Cambridge. Harvard -was due to win; but Yale had scored once in the first -half, and all but scored again before the Harvard men -pulled themselves together. During the intermission -Captain "Monk" Eliot had corralled his crimson -warriors in the dressing-room and addressed to them a -few disjointed remarks that made history.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He began moderately; but as he talked his choler -rose, and he took off the limit: "You lobsters are the -blankety-blankedest crowd of wooden Indians that -ever advertised a dope-house. You seem to think -you are out here for your health. What in the blank -is the matter with you? Do you think Soldiers Field -is a Chinese opium joint where you can go to sleep -and forget your troubles? Maybe you don't want -to get your clothes dirty, or you are afraid some big, -bad, blue Yale man will eat you up without salt. Now -look here! I want you to understand that we've got -to win this game if it breaks every damn one of our -infernal necks, and if any of you overgrown babies -doesn't like what I say or hasn't the nerve to go into -the second half on that basis, just say so right now, -damn you, and I'll give you the job of holding some -</span><em class="italics">man's</em><span> sweater for the rest of this game—and we'll -settle it when it's over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a desperate crowd of men in crimson who -went into that second half; and their collision with -the Yale line was terrific. But Eli didn't seem to -change his mind about winning the game—for he -hadn't heard the crimson captain's crimson speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For twenty minutes the giants reeled and staggered -in an equal struggle. Yale then saw that she must -win by holding the score as it was, and began all -manner of dilatory tactics. This drove Captain Eliot -frantic. He must score in five minutes—or lose. -Fifty-five yards in five minutes against that wall of -blue fiends!—nothing but desperation could accomplish -it. He glanced at his squad of reserves on the -side-lines; and with spendthrift recklessness that -counted not the cost he began to burn men up. He -sent his best and strongest in merciless repetition -against the weakest—no, not that—against the least -strong man in the Yale line.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harvard began to creep forward slowly, so slowly; -and the five minutes were no longer five, but -four—three—two and a half—hurry! Still forward the -crimson surged with every hammering shock. But -flesh and blood could not stand it! Out went Field, -the pick of the Harvard flock, carried off mumbling -like a crazy man, with a bleeding cut across his -forehead. Next went Lee, then Carmichael, then Eliot -himself, after a desperately reckless dash, with a -turned ankle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Can Harvard score? Perhaps,—if the time and -the men last long enough.... Graham was a -substitute. Eliot, supported between two of his men and -breathing threatenings and slaughter against those -who would carry him off, called Graham's name; and -with a nervous shiver the negro was out of his sweater -in a jiffy. Eliot whispered to the crimson quarter, -"Graham's fresh; send him against that tackle till he -faints."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Bang—Smash</em><span>. </span><em class="italics">Bang—Smash</em><span>. Yes, he's making -it every time, but hurry! </span><em class="italics">hurry</em><span>!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kill that nigger," growls Chreitsberg, the Kentucky -Captain of the Blue, between his set teeth: and -now "that nigger" comes up with his nose dripping -blood, next with his ear ground half off. But he will -score this time! No, the Yale eleven are on him like -a herd of buffaloes. He stands up and draws his sleeve -across his nose with a determined swipe. Eliot -screams from the side-lines, "You </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> make it this -trip—time's up,"—but he can't hear his own voice -in the pandemonium.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A last crunching, grinding crash,—and the twenty-two -maniacs heave, and reel, and topple, and stagger, -and slowly wring and twist themselves into a writhing -mass of bone and muscle which becomes motionless -and quiet at the bottom while still struggling and -tearing without let-up on the outside. They refuse to -desist even when the referee's whistle sounds the end -of the game, for no man knows just where under that -mass of players which is lying above the goal-line -is the man with the ball. The referee and the umpire -begin to pull them off one by one in the midst of an -indescribable tumult: and at the bottom, with a -broken leg, but with the ball hugged tight against his -breast and a saving foot and a half beyond the line, -they find Graham.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He is picked up by the roughly tender hands of his -steaming, breathless fellows, who are ready to cry -with exultation, and hurried to a carriage. It was -while they were carrying him off the field he had -redeemed that he first saw Helen Phillips. She was -standing on the rear seat of a big red touring-car, -waving a crimson pennant and excited beyond -measure. As she looked down on him as they carried him -past, there came into her face a look of childish -admiration and pity commingled; and she hesitated a -moment, then impulsively pitched out the pennant she -held, and it fell across his chest like a decoration and -was carried with him thus to his room across the -Charles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he had surprised her gaze at him as he turned -from the parade of the 71st, and saw her smile upon -him, he thought she had recognized him as the -line-smashing half-back,—and he very properly drew in -his middle and shoved out his chest another notch. -But not so! She did not recognize him nor remember -him. In her overflowing patriotism she saw only a -soldier of the Republic; and her smiling face had but -unconsciously paid tribute to an ideal.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On the first day of April, 191-, Hayward -Graham, wearing the single-barred yellow chevrons of a -lance-corporal in Troop M of the 10th Cavalry, was -sitting flat on the ground, perspiring and inwardly -grumbling as he rubbed away at his sawed-off rifle, -and mentally moralizing on his inglorious condition. -There was he, almost a graduate of Harvard, a -gentleman, accustomed to a bath-tub and a toothbrush, -bound up hard and fast for three years' association -with a crowd of illiterate, roistering, unwashed, and -in the present situation unwashable, negroes of every -shade from pale yellow to ebony. Why, thought he, -should negroes always be dumped all into one heap -as if they were all of one grade? Didn't the -government know there were negroes and negroes? -Whimsically he wondered why the officers didn't sort them -out among the troops like they did the horses, according -to colour,—blacks, browns, yellows, ash-coloured, -snuff-coloured. Then what possibilities in -matching or contrasting the shades of the troopers -with those of their mounts: black horse, yellow -rider,—bay horse, black rider,—sorrel horse, gingersnap -rider—no, that wouldn't do, inartistic combination! -And what colour of steed would tastily trim off that -freckled abomination of a sergeant yonder? Can't -be done,—scheme's a failure!—damn that sergeant -anyhow, he had confiscated Graham's only toothbrush -to clean his gun with. Graham again records -his oath to thrash him when his three years is up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But three years is an age. It will never roll round. -Only two months has he been a soldier, and yet -everything that happened before that is becoming -vague—even the smile on Helen Phillips' face. He cannot -close his eyes and conjure up the picture as he did at -first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Graham was out of temper. Cavalry wasn't what -it is cracked up to be, and a horse was of more trouble -than convenience anyway, he was convinced. In the -battle-drills the men had been put through so -repeatedly day after day the horse played no part, and what -riding Graham had done so far had served only to -make him so sore and stiff that he could neither ride -nor walk in comfort. He heartily repented his choice -and wished he had taken the infantry, where a man -has to look out only for himself and his gun. Oh, the -troubles, the numberless troubles, of a green soldier!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All of Corporal Graham's military notions were -affronted, and his right-dress, upstanding ideas of -soldiering were shattered. The reality is a matter -of pushing a curry-comb, getting your nose and mouth -and eyes filled with horse-hairs, which get down your -neck and up your sleeves, and stick in the sweat and -won't come off and there's no water to wash them -off. Then the drills—save the mark!—not as much -precision in them as in a football manoeuvre,—just -a spreading out into a thin line and running forward -for five seconds perhaps, falling on your belly and -pretending to fire three rounds at an imaginary foe, then -jumping up and doing it all over again till you feel -faint and foolish,—every man for himself, no order, -no alignment, one man crouching behind a shrub, -another falling prone on the ground, another hiding -behind a tree,—surely no pomp or circumstance or -glory in that business. Graham's study of punctilios -did him no service there. Not a parade had the -regiment had. Mobilized at a Southern port only three -days before the sailing of the transport, it had taken -every hour of the time to load the horses and -equipment and supplies. Graham had found that fighting -is a very small part of soldiering, which is mostly -drudgery, and he had revised his idea of war several -times since his enlistment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He thought as he sat cleaning his rifle that surely -the preliminaries were about over, and, if camp -rumour counted for anything, that the day of battle -could not be more than one or two suns away. He -would have his gun in fine working order, for good -luck might bring some shooting on the morrow. At -any rate his carbine must glisten when he becomes -part of to-morrow's guard, and he hoped that he -would be put right on the point of the advance picket. -He hadn't had a shave in three weeks, and his -uniform was sweat-stained and dusty, and he could not -hope to look spick and span; but his gun could be -shiny, and he knew Lieutenant Wagner well enough -by that time to have learned that a clean gun counted -for more with him than a clean shirt. So he hoped -and prayed that he would be selected for some duty -that was worth while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The brigades under General Bell, which had been -landed at Alta Gracia with difficulty, were pressing -forward with all haste to cut off a garrison of -Germans that had been thrown into Puerto Cabello from -the German cruisers, and to prevent the arrival of -reinforcements which were being rushed to their aid -from Caracas. Reports from native scouts and -communications from General Mañana himself placed the -number of these reinforcements at from five to seven -thousand. General Bell doubted that this force was -so large, but was anxious to meet it, whatever its -size.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despite the vigilance of the all too meagre patrol -of warships for Venezuelan waters which the United -States had been able to spare from the necessary -guard for her Atlantic and Gulf ports, the forehanded -and ever-ready Kaiser had landed seven or eight -thousand troops from a fleet of transports at Cumana, and -with characteristic German promptness had occupied -Caracas and Barcelona before Uncle Sam had been -able to put any troops on Venezuelan soil. It seemed -nonsense for either Germany or the United States to -care to fight any battles down in that little out-of-the-way -place. They could find other more accessible and -far more important battle-grounds: but no, as the -Monroe Doctrine forbade Germany to make a foothold -in Venezuela and her doing so was the casus -belli, the ethics of the affair demanded that there -should be a bona fide forcible ejectment of the Kaiser's -troops from Venezuelan territory by the United -States. The battles there might be only a side issue, -and the real test of strength might come at any or -all of a dozen places on land and sea, but there must -be some fighting done in Venezuela just to prove that -the cause of war was not fanciful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>General Bell's brigades were one under General -Earnhardt, consisting of the 5th, 7th, 10th and 15th -Cavalry, and a second, including the 4th and 11th -regular infantry, the 71st Ohio, and the 1st X——, -under General Cowles, with a battalion of engineers -and four batteries of field artillery. General -Earnhardt's cavalry brigade was striving to reach the -Valencia road, the only passable route from Caracas to -Puerto Cabello, before the German force should pass. -General Mañana had sent a courier to say that he -would hold the Germans in check till Earnhardt's -arrival.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the morning of April 2d Graham was among -the advance pickets and almost forgot his saddle pains -and creaking joints in the excitement of expected -battle. For half a day Earnhardt pushed forward as -fast as the trail would permit. He had halted his -troops for five minutes' rest about noon, when a native -on a wiry pony, riding like one possessed, dashed into -the picket and came near getting his head punched -off before he could make Graham understand that he -was a friend with a message for the </span><em class="italics">Americano -capitan</em><span>. Graham carried him before General Earnhardt, -who at the head of his column was reclining on a -bank beside the trail, perspiring and dusty and brushing -viciously at the flies and mosquitoes that swarmed -around him. The general did not change his position -when the native, who was clad in a nondescript but -much-beribboned uniform, slid from his horse and -with a ceremonious bow and salute informed him that -he was Captain Miguel of General Mañana's staff, -and had the honour to report that he was despatched -by General Mañana to say that, despite that gentleman's -earnest and desperate resistance, a large and -outnumbering force of German cavalry had forced -a passage of the road to Puerto Cabello about eleven -o'clock that morning. While Captain Miguel was -delivering his elaborate message to the disgusted -cavalryman, the picket passed in an old soldier of the -10th who had been detailed as a scout at the -beginning of the campaign; and this scout rode up to -report just as the native captain finished speaking. -Earnhardt turned impatiently from Mañana's aide -to his own trusted man and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Morris, what is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Small force of German cavalry, sir, had a -scrimmage with General Mañana's troops this morning on -the Valencia road, and rode on in the direction of -Puerto Cabello."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many Germans got through?" asked the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All of them, sir; about two troops, as near as I -could count."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how many men did Mañana have?" the -question came sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something like fifteen hundred I should judge, -sir, from the sound of the firing and what I could -see," answered the scout.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>General Earnhardt, without rising, turned with -unconcealed contempt to Captain Miguel and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My compliments to General Mañana, and he's a -—— old fraud and I don't want to have anything -more to do with him;" and while the red-splashed -aide was trying to solve the curt message which he -but half understood, the trumpeter at a word from -the angry cavalryman sounded </span><em class="italics">mount</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">forward</em><span> -and the brigade was again off at top speed, hoping -still to cut off the main relief force sent out from -Caracas. General Earnhardt considered himself a -lucky soldier to find that this force had not passed -when at last he reached the road (which was hardly -worthy of the name highway, though one of the -thoroughfares of Venezuela); and he hastily -disposed his forces to meet the German advance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not long in coming. The crack of a rifle -was the first notice Corporal Graham had that he was -about to be under fire. He felt a cold breeze blow -upon his back for a moment, and then as the popping -began to approach a rattle the joy of contest entered -his soul and sent his blood bounding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the joy was short-lived. When the Germans -came near enough to see that they were opposed by -men in Uncle Sam's uniform, and not by the nagging -natives who had been popping harmlessly away at -them from the roadside, they decided it was best not -to be too precipitate. They stopped and began to -feel for the American line. After some desultory -sharpshooting they finally located it, and quieted -down to wait till the German commander could get -his little army up and into line of battle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Hayward Graham had to sit still and hold -his gun while the exhilaration and enthusiasm died -down in him like the fiz in a glass of soda-water. He -had worked his nerves up to such a tension that the -reaction was nothing less than painful, and he was -full of impatience and profanity. He could hardly -wait for to-morrow, when Germany and Uncle Sam -would get up after a good night's rest and lay on like -men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again what was his unspeakable disgust and almost -unbearable disappointment when the next morning -came and he was detailed as stable guard, and given -charge of the 10th's corral, quite a distance in rear -of the line of battle and absolutely out of all danger. -Profanity was a lame and feeble remedy for that -situation. He sat down and growled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, for an assorted supply of languages in which -to separately and collectively and properly consign -this whole bloody system of details to the cellar of -Hades!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A veteran sergeant of Graham's troop, who on -occasions wore a medal of honour on his blouse, and at -all times bore an unsightly scar on his cheek as a -souvenir of Wounded Knee, sought to soothe the -young man's feelings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It all comes along in the run of the business, -corporal," he said. "Soldiering is not all fighting. -A man earns his money by doing whatever duty is -assigned to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Graham answered with heat: "I didn't come into -this nasty, sweaty, horse-smelly business for any such -consideration as fifteen dollars a month and feed, and -if I am to miss the scrapping and the glory I prefer -to cut the whole affair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His temper improved, however, as the day began -to drag itself away with no sound of conflict from the -battle-line save the occasional pop of a pot-shot by -the pickets, and as the rumour began to leak back to -the corral that both sides must be waiting for their -guns to come up. This was doubtless true: for the -four batteries of American artillery arrived late in -the afternoon, and the infantry brigade was all up -by nightfall.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-v"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The two small armies were separated by the valley -of a small stream which ran in a broad circle around -the low wooded hills or range of hills upon which the -Germans were entrenched. This valley was from a -mile to a mile and a half wide, and the water-course -was much nearer the outer or American side. The -bed of this stream would furnish an excellent breastwork -or entrenchment for the American troops if they -should see fit to use it, but it was not tenable by the -Germans because it was at most all points subject to -an enfilading fire from the American position. The -surface of the valley was slightly broken and -undulating on the German side, but clear of timber and -covered only with grass, while on the American side -the rise was more precipitous and covered with a -scattering growth of trees and bush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On arriving and looking over the ground General -Bell ordered that during the night his artillery should -be placed and concealed on the commanding heights -which his position afforded; and that his fighting-line, -composed of the 5th and 15th Cavalry as his left wing, -the 1st X—— as his centre, and the 4th and 11th -Infantry as his right wing, be moved forward down -the slope and into the bed of the stream, leaving as -a reserve the 71st Ohio and the 10th Cavalry located -approximately in rear of the centre of his line of -battle. The 7th Cavalry he had sent out toward -Puerto Cabello to hold in check any possible German -troops that might appear from that quarter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Corporal Hayward Graham, back at the 10th's corral, -had recovered his spirits as the day dragged along -without any sound of battle, and he began to -congratulate himself that he would finish up in good time -all details that would keep him out of the fighting. -When he walked over to the line late in the afternoon, -however, and learned that the whole regiment was -to be held out of the fight as a reserve, he immediately -surmised that the 10th was kept out of it because they -were negroes, and that the others from the general -down wanted to scoop all the glory for the white -soldiery,—and again he sat down and cursed the negro -blood in his veins. The only salve to his outraged -spirit was the information that those high and mighty -prigs of the 71st were also to miss the glory. He -even chuckled when he thought of the chagrin of -Lieutenant Morgan and pictured to himself the scene -of the lieutenant's meeting with Miss Elise Phillips -if he should have to go back and explain to her how -he came not to be under fire. Then he remembered -Helen Phillips and the crimson pennant locked up in -his trunk, and he felt that the whole war would count -for naught if he had no chance to do something -worthy of that pennant and of her. He wandered -listlessly along the lines and tried to forget his -troubles in listening to the talk of the fortunates who -were going in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came to where a crowd of 1st X—— men were -chaffing a squad of the 71st for "taking a gallery-seat -at the show." Corporal Billie Catling of the 71st -replied that they took the "gallery-seat" under -orders and were put behind the 1st X—— to see that -they didn't dodge a fight again like they did in Cuba.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a damn lie!" came the 1st X——'s rejoinder -in chorus; to which one of them added, "The -1st X—— never ran out of any fight in Cuba, and -you gallery-gods can go to sleep or go to the devil, -for we'll stay here till hell freezes over so thick you -can skate on the ice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you may not have run </span><em class="italics">out</em><span> of any fight in -Cuba, but it's blamed certain you didn't </span><em class="italics">run in</em><span>to one," -retorted the 71st's spokesman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, sonny," yelled the X—— man, "don't get -sassy because you're not permitted to sit down along -with your betters. Run along and wait for the -second table with the niggers!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The 71st's contingent could not find a suitable -retort to this sally, and, as fighting was out of the -question, they walked away muttering imprecations amid -the jeers of the men from X——.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Graham enjoyed the discomfiture of the 71st; but -he was more than ever convinced that the colour of -the 10th accounted for its being robbed of a chance -for fame in this campaign: and he went back to his -duty in a mutinous mood. He could not know that -General Bell had held this veteran negro regiment in -reserve because of its proved steadiness and valour; -nor that he had placed the untried 1st X—— in his -centre because it would thus be in the easiest supporting -distance of his reserves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The battle opened on April 3d the moment it -became light enough for the gunners to locate the -half-hidden German lines and artillery. For awhile the -cannoneers had it all between themselves; and in this -duel the advantage was with the Americans, for their -position gave them better protection—the fighting-line -being sheltered by the stream-bed and the guns -and reserves by the hill. The Germans were -entrenched on a hill as high as the Americans, but it -was much flatter and afforded less natural cover.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After two or three hours of pounding the Germans -with his artillery, which was evidently inflicting great -damage, General Bell ordered his line forward to -carry the German position by assault. Then the battle -began in earnest. The German machine-guns opened -on the American line as it rose out of the stream-bed -and began its slow and terrible journey across the -open valley by short rushes. The first breath of lead -and iron that dashed in the faces of the American -troops as they stood up began the work of death; and -it came so promptly and so viciously that it -overwhelmed the raw discipline and untempered metal of -the 1st X——; for before advancing thirty paces the -line wavered and broke and retreated ignobly to the -sheltering bank of the stream. Not all the regiment -broke at once; but the break and stampede of one -company quickly spread along the entire regimental -front, and back into the ditch they dived. Some of -the officers cursed and commanded and entreated; -but to no purpose. The wings of the American line -were advancing steadily but slowly, standing up for -a few moments to dash forward a dozen yards, and -then lying as close to the ground as possible while -returning the terrible fire from the hills in front of -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>General Bell from his position of vantage saw the -failure of the 1st X—— to advance, and waited a -few moments in hope that a half-dozen officers who -were recklessly exposing themselves in their attempts -to urge the men forward might succeed in their -efforts. As it became evident that the regiment would -not face the deadly fire of the Germans, however, and -as the wings of the battle-line were diverging as they -advanced because of the formation of the ground in -their front, General Bell waited no longer, but ordered -forward both the 10th Cavalry and the 71st Ohio. -These came over the hill on the run and dropped down -the slope into the water-course, where the heroic -handful of officers were still making frantic efforts to have -the 1st X—— go forward. A captain was violently -berating his men for their cowardice and imploring -them to advance, while his first lieutenant squeezed -down behind the bank was yelling at them not to -move. A major of one battalion was standing up -straight and fully exposed, waving his sword and -appealing to his men by every token of courage, while -another major was lying as close to the bottom of -the ditch as a spreading-adder. At places the men -seemed to want to move, while the officers crouched -in fear; while at others officers by no amount of -commands or entreaties could get a man out of the ditch. -A panic of terror seemed to be upon the regiment -which the few untouched spirits were not able to -overcome by any power of sharp commands, or -violent pleading, or reckless examples of courage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys of the 71st and the negro troopers of the -10th did not treat the X—— men tenderly as they -passed over them. They jumped down upon them -as they lay in the ditch and tramped upon them or -kicked them out of the way contemptuously, while the -fear-smitten creatures were as unresentful as hounds. -Corporal Graham, near the left flank of the 10th, -heard an officer of the 71st yell as they passed over -the ditch, "Why don't you go forward? What the -devil are you waiting for?" to which Billie Catling, -as he knocked a cowering X—— man from his path, -cried out in answer, "It's too hot for 'em, captain. -They are going to stay here till this hell freezes -over!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As many perhaps as a fourth of the 1st X——, -officers and men, fell in with the 71st and the 10th -and bravely charged with them up the long slope. -The remainder waited till the battle was so far ahead -of them that their belated advance could not wipe out -the black shame of cowardice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the hurry of their rush into the breach the -adjoining flanks of the 10th and the 71st overlapped -and were confused; but it was well that the two -regiments were sent to replace the one, for the loss was -appalling as they surged forward toward the German -lines, and they were not long in being thinned out -to an uncrowded basis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first sight of a man struck and falling to the -ground shook Corporal Graham's nerves, and he had -to pull himself together sharply to save himself from -the weakening horror death always had for him. He -turned his eyes resolutely away from the first -half-dozen, that were knocked down, and applied himself -religiously and consciously to the prescribed method -of advancing by rushes; but all his faculties were -alert to the dangers of the situation, and he could not -shake off his keen sense of peril and of the tragedies -around him. Not for long did he suffer thus, -however, for as he rose up from the grass for one rush -forward a bullet grazed his shin—and changed his -whole nature in a twinkling. It did him no real -damage and little blood came from the wound, but the -pain was intense. He dropped on the earth and -grabbed his leg to see what the harm was, and was -surprised to find himself uninjured save for the -burning, stinging sensation. Then he forgot everything -but his pain, and became as pettishly angry in a -moment as if he had collided with a rocking-chair in the -dark. In that moment he conceived a personal enmity -and grudge against the whole German army, and -proceeded to avenge his injury on a personal basis. He -became as cool and collected as if he were playing a -game of checkers, and went in a business-like way -about reducing the distance between himself and the -gentlemen who had hurt his shin. His anger had -dissolved his confusion and neutralized the horrors that -were at first upon him. He was more than ever -conscious of the falling men about him; but he had his -debt to pay,—let them look after their own scores. -He saw Lieutenant Wagner stagger and fall and raise -up and drag himself into a protecting depression in -the ground; he saw the colonel of the 1st X——, -fighting with a carbine in his hand right alongside the -black troopers of the 10th, drop in a heap and lie so -still he knew he was dead; he saw Corporal Billie -Catling straighten up and pitch his gun from him as -a bullet hit him in the face and carried away the whole -back of his head;—yet Graham stopped not to help -or to think. He had only one purpose—to reach the -man who hit his shin. He saw man after man, many -of his own troop, drop in death or blood or agony—and -his purpose did not change. Then, a little -distance to his left and somewhat to his rear, he saw -Colonel Phillips of the 71st go down in the grass; -he saw him try to gain his feet, and fail; and then -try to drag himself from his very exposed position, -and fail. Then Corporal Graham forgot his personal -grievance, and thought of the girl and the pennant. -He ran across to Colonel Phillips and, finding him -shot through both legs, picked him up and carried -him for forty yards or more through the hurricane -of lead to where the Valencia road made a cut in the -long slope; and in this cut, down behind a sheltering -curve, he placed him. Not a moment too promptly -had the trooper acted, for of all the unfortunates who -had fallen anywhere near Colonel Phillips not one but -was found riddled with the bullets of the machine-guns -when the battle was ended. Graham's own hat -was shot away from his head and the officer in his -arms received another wound as he bore him out of -harm's way.... At the Colonel's request the negro -tried to remove the boot from the bleeding right leg, -which was broken below the knee. As this was so -painful Colonel Phillips handed him a pearl-handled -pocket-knife and asked him to cut the boot-top away. -Graham did so, and bound a handkerchief around the -leg to stop the flow of blood. Having made every -other disposition for the officer's comfort which his -situation permitted, he looked out in the direction of -the battle so wistfully that the Colonel told him he -might return to the fight. He did so with a rush, -absent-mindedly pocketing the pearl-handled knife as -he ran.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 73%" id="figure-66"> -<span id="carried-him-for-forty-yards-or-more-through-the-hurricane-of-lead"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""CARRIED HIM FOR FORTY YARDS OR MORE THROUGH THE HURRICANE OF LEAD."" src="images/img-052.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"CARRIED HIM FOR FORTY YARDS OR MORE THROUGH THE HURRICANE OF LEAD."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>The firing-line had advanced quite a distance while -Graham was rescuing Colonel Phillips and ministering -to him; and in his overweening desire to be right -at the front of the battle he ran forward without the -customary stops for lying down and firing. That they -should carry him safe through that driving rain of -bullets, despite his indifference to the ordinary rules -of the desperate game, was more than reasonably -could have been expected of the Fates which had -protected him up to that moment from serious harm; -and—down he crashed in the grass and lay still without -design, while the battle passed farther and farther -up the long slope, away from him. In dim -half-consciousness he realized what had befallen him; and the -only two ideas which found place in his mind were -the uncomfortable thought that he would be buried -without a bath, and a feeling of satisfaction that the -god of battle at least had dignified him with a more -respectable wound than a bruised shin-bone.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When two strong, alert men, disputing, come to -the final appeal to battle, the decision is usually made -quickly. It is only the weak or the unprepared who -prolong a fight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So was it that late summer in 191- saw an end -of war between Germany and the United States—thanks -partially to the intervention of the Powers. -And with what result? The result does appear so -inadequate! The Monroe Doctrine was still unshaken—and -that was worth much perhaps; but ten thousand -sailors and the flower of two navies were under -the tide, and half as many soldiers dead of fever or -fighting in Venezuela; small armies of newly made -orphans and widows in Germany and America; -mourning and despair in the houses of the desolate,—some -hope in the heart of the pension attorney; a -new set of heroes on land and sea,—at the top. Long, -who at the battle of the Bermudas, finding his own -small craft and a wounded German cruiser left afloat -of twenty-odd vessels that had begun the fight, in -answer to her demand for his surrender, had -torpedoed and sunk the German promptly, and to his own -everlasting astonishment had managed to save his -neck and prevent the battle's becoming a Kilkenny -affair by beaching his riddled boat and keeping her -flag above water: from Long an endless list of real -and fictitious heroes, dwindling by nice gradations in -importance as they increased in numbers, till they -touched bottom in the raw volunteer infantryman -whose wildest tale of adventure was of his exemplary -courage in a great storm that swept the God-forsaken -sand-bar on which his company had been stationed,—to -prevent the German navy's purloining the new-laid -foundations of a fort to guard Catfish River.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the long list of heroes Colonel Hayne Phillips -was not without prominence. The sailormen were -first for their deeds were more numerous and -spectacular; but among the soldiers who were in the -popular eye he was easily the most lauded. He was a -volunteer; and that was everything in his favour, for -it put him on a par with members of the regular -establishment of ten times his merit. He was -nothing more than a brave and patriotic man with a taste -for the military and with but little of a professional -soldier's knowledge or training; and yet his -demonstrated possession of those two qualities alone, -patriotism and personal courage (which most men indeed -possess, and which are so inseparably associated with -one's thought of a regular army officer as to add -nothing to his fame or popularity),—the possession of -these two simple American virtues had brought to -Colonel Phillips the enthusiastic admiration of a -hero-loving people, and—what was of more personal -advantage to him—the consequent consideration and -favour of party-managers in need of a popular idol.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These political prestidigitators, mindful of the -political successes of the soldiers, Taylor, Grant and -Roosevelt, took him and his war record in hand and -proceeded to work a few easy miracles. The love -and plaudits of a great State and a great nation for -a favourite regiment coming home with honour and -with the glory of hard-won battle upon its standards -were skilfully turned to account for partisan political -uses. The deeds and virtues of a thousand men were -deftly placed to the credit of one, and before the very -eyes of the people was the legerdemain wrought by -which one political party and one Colonel Phillips -drew all the dividends from the investment of treasure -and of blood and of patriotic energy and devotion -which that thousand men had made without a thought -of politics or pay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The partisan press, as always advertent to the -peculiar penchant hero-worship has for ignoring patent -absurdities, overdrew the picture—but no harm was -done: for while truth of fact was disregarded and -abused, essential truth suffered no hurt. Although -enterprising newspapers did furnish for the political -campaign one photogravure of Colonel Phillips -leading the 71st regiment over the German earthworks at -the battle of Valencia, and another of him in the act -of receiving the German commander's sword on that -occasion—these things did the gallant Colonel no -injustice. He gladly would have attended to those -little matters of the surrender in place of the veteran -officer of regulars who officiated. It was through no -fault of the 71st's commander that shortness of breath -made it impossible for him to keep pace with his men -up that long slope; nor in the least to his discredit that -he was shot down in the rear of the regiment and his -life saved through the bravery of a negro trooper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Colonel's courage was indeed of the genuine -metal and he willingly would have met all the dangers -and performed all the mighty deeds accredited to him -if opportunity had come to him. Being conscious of -this willingness in his own soul, he took no measures -to correct impressions of his prowess made upon the -minds of misinformed thousands of voters. The error -was not in a mistaken public opinion as to his valour, -for that was all that was claimed for it, but in the -people's belief in certain spectacular exhibitions of -that valour which were really totally imaginary. He -knew that he was as brave a man as the people -thought: why then quibble over facts that were -entirely incidental? The hero-idolaters swallowed in -faith and ecstasy all the details which an inventive and -energetic press bureau could turn out, and cried for -more: and the nomination for the presidency -practically had been tendered to him by acclamation -almost a year before the convention assembled which -officially commissioned him its standard-bearer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Phillips' campaign was attended by one -wild hurrah from start to finish. It was pyrotechnic. -Other candidates for this office of all dignity have -awaited calmly at home the authoritative call of the -people; but the materia medica of politics teaches that -to quicken a sluggish pulse in the electorate a hero -must be administered directly and vigorously into the -system. So the Colonel was sent upon his mighty -"swing around the circle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In that sweeping vote-drive many weapons were -displayed, but only one saw any real service. That -was the Colonel's gray and battered campaign hat. -He wore it for the sake of comfort, to be sure; but, -like the log cabin and grandfather's hat of the -Harrisons, the rails of Lincoln, and the Rough Riders -uniform of Roosevelt, it was the tumult-raising and final -answer to every argument and appeal of the opposition. -It uprooted party loyalties, silenced partisan -prejudices, overrode eloquence and oratory, beat back -and battered down the shrewd attacks and defences -of political manipulation, and contemptuously kicked -aside anything savouring of serious political -reasoning. The convention which nominated him had -indeed formulated and declared an admirable platform -upon which he should go before the people, and he -placed himself squarely on that platform; but the -gaze of the people never got far enough below that -campaign hat to notice what its wearer was standing on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Phillips was a sincere, honest, candid, -plain-spoken politician—for politician he was if he was -anything, while yet so fearless of party whips and -mandates that his name was synonymous with honesty -and lofty civic purpose. So, feeling his own purposes -ringing true to the declarations of his party's -platform he did not deem it necessary to direct the -distracted attention of the people to these prosy matters -of statecraft when they were taking such a friendly -interest in his headgear. If they were willing to -blindly follow the hat, he knew in his honest heart -that the man under it would carry that hat along -paths of political righteousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was indeed playing upon every chord of popular -feeling and seeking the favour of every man with -a ballot. He had always fought to win in every -contest he had entered, from single-stick to war, and he -made no exception of this race for the chieftaincy of -the Republic. It was to be expected, therefore, that -the large negro vote in pivotal States, as well as his -natural love of justice and his admiration for a brave -soldiery, would lead him to pay enthusiastic and -deserved tribute to the negro troops who had served -in the Venezuelan campaign. He paid these tributes -religiously and brilliantly in every speech he made, -but always in general and impersonal terms and -without a hint of his own debt to a corporal of the 10th -Cavalry. There was no need for such minutiæ of -course, for that was a purely personal affair between -him and an unknown negro who might be dead and -buried for all he knew; while, besides, a recital of -these unimportant details would necessitate a fruitless -revision of other incidental ideas now pleasantly fixed -in the public mind. He sometimes entertained his -wife and daughters with the story of how a trooper -of the 10th had saved his life, but never did he sound -the personal note in public.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Phillips made votes with every speech and -it looked as if he would win. He deserved to win, -for he was honest, capable, clean. As election day -drew near the opposing candidate received a -confidential letter from his campaign manager in which -that veteran politician said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have lost and won many hats in my political -career, but this is the first time I have ever been called -upon to fight a hat—just a hat—to settle a -Presidency. This is a hat campaign; and you have -evidently made the mistake of going bareheaded all your -life. You seem, too, to have limited yourself to a -home-grown ancestry. The Colonel is simply wearing -a hat and claiming kin with everything from a -Plymouth Rock rooster to a palmetto-tree. The newspapers -are getting on my nerves with their unending -references to that campaign-hat and Phillips' ding-dong -about the unity and virility of American blood and -his mother's being a South Carolinian."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"The cards are running against us."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Colonel Phillips' daughters were enjoying life -to the full in their long summer outing on the -St. Lawrence. The older, Elise, had just finished with -the schools and was free from many of the restraints -which the strict and old-fashioned ideas of her mother -had put upon her during her girlhood, and was filled -with a lively enjoyment of her first untrammelled -association with the males of her kind. Helen was -still a girl, and her mother yet threw about her all the -guards and fences that properly hedge about the days -of maidenhood. But this did not in the slightest check -the flow of Helen's joy in life, for the matter of sex -in her associates was not an element in her happiness. -Boy or girl, it mattered not to her, if her fellow in -the hour's sport was quick-witted, quick-moving and -mischief-loving. The extent of her thoughts of love -was that it and its victims were most excellent objects -of banter and ridicule; and she found the incipient -affair between Elise and Evans Rutledge a source of -much fun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you a hero?" she once asked Mr. Rutledge -solemnly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not to my own knowledge," Rutledge answered. "Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because if you are you may be my brother sometime. -Elise likes you a little, I think, and she thinks -your hair would curl beautifully if you didn't crop it -so close—but you will have to be a hero. You -needn't fear Mr. Morgan. He failed to be a hero -when he had the chance, and now his chance is gone. -Nobody but a hero can interest Elise for keeps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When did Morgan have his chance?" asked Rutledge, -amused at the mischief-maker's plain speaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He went to Venezuela in papa's regiment, but -never had a shot fired at him the whole time he was -gone. That's what he did. Elise cannot love a man -like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps it was not his fault. He may have been -detailed to such duties as kept him away from the -shots."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I think he says he was; but what of that? -He wasn't in the fighting, and that's what it takes to -make a hero. Oh, I wish I were a man. I would -ride a horse and hunt lions and tigers, and I would -have gone to the war in Venezuela and nobody's -orders would have kept me from the firing-line—I -believe that's what papa calls it—the place where all -the fun and danger is. When papa talks about it I -can hear my heart beat. Elise says she wouldn't be -a man for anything; but I've heard her say that she -could love a man if he was a </span><em class="italics">man</em><span>—brave and -strong—you know—a man who did things. I would -prefer to do the things myself. I wouldn't love any man -I ever saw—unless he was just like papa. What -regiment were you in, Mr. Rutledge?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wasn't in any regiment," said Rutledge meekly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! Didn't you volunteer?" asked Helen in -surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not volunteer"—a trifle defiantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" Helen demanded scornfully. "If I had -a brother and he had failed to volunteer I would never -have spoken to him again! I thought all South -Carolinians were fighters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had other things to attend to," said Rutledge -shortly. "Where is Miss Phillips this afternoon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's out on the river with Mr. Morgan. They -will not be back till dinner, so you would just as well -sit down here and talk to me.... But I'm sorry you -didn't volunteer—you will never be my brother now.... -And I was beginning to like you so much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you, little girl, for your attempt to think -well of me. I see that I have sinned past your -forgiveness in not being a hero. Remember that it is -only because ninety and nine men are commonplace -that the hundredth may be a hero. I am one of the -ninety and nine that make the hero possible—a modest -king-maker, in a way. A hero must have some -one else to fight for, or die for, or live for. He -cannot do these things for himself, for that would make -him anything but a hero. So you see that the second -person is as necessary to the process of hero-making -as the hero himself. It's all in the process and not -in the product, anyway. It's the hero in act and not -in fact, in the making and not in the taking, that -enjoys his own heroism and is worth our interest. -While he is making himself he thrills with the effort -and with the uncertainty as to whether he will get a -commission, a lathe-and-plaster arch, or a court of -inquiry; and we the ninety and nine, we thrill with -the gambling fever and make wagers that his trolley -will get off the wire. But when he gets himself -done—clean done, so to speak, wrapped in tinfoil and -ready for use—then there is nothing left for the hero -to do but to pose and await our applause—which is -most unheroic; and we, after one whoop, forget him -in the excitement of watching the next candidate risk -his neck. Besides, the hero's work in hero-making -is temporary and limited, for he stops with making -one; but we, when we have finished with one, turn to -the making of another, and our work is never done. -While I am not even one hero, I have helped to make -a hundred. Come now—you are generous and -unselfish—which would you most admire, one finished -hero listening for applause, or a hero-maker, who, -without reward or the hope of reward, modestly and -continuously assists in thus bringing glory to an -endless procession of his fellows?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You think you are brilliant, Mr. Rutledge," -answered Helen with an impatient toss of her head, "but -you can't confuse me by any such talk as that. You -needn't think you will be able to persuade Elise by -any long jumble of words that you are greater than -a hero. A king-maker!" She laughed mockingly at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't fear that I will use any sophistry or -doubtful method to become your brother," Rutledge -rejoined amusedly. "I have only one thing to tell -Miss Phillips."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what is that?" asked Helen with interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am inexpressibly pained to refuse your lightest -wish," said Rutledge grandiloquently, "but to grant -your request would be—telling; and I may—not -tell,—perhaps,—even Miss Phillips."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not suffer so," said Helen with an assumption -of great indifference. "I don't care to hear it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I predict that you will be delighted to listen -to it when it is told to you," said Rutledge confidently. -"And it will be beyond doubt. But you are too young -to hear such things yet. Be patient. You'll get older -if you live long enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It fretted Helen to be told that she was young, as -she was told a dozen times a day—not that she -disliked her youth, but because of the suggestion that -she was not free to do as she pleased; and her eyes -began to flash at Rutledge's taunt and her mind to -form a suitable expression of resentment—when that -gentleman walked away from her smiling at her -petulant anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evans Rutledge had more interest in Helen's words -about her sister than he showed in his manner or -conversation. He had not told Elise what his heart had -told him for many days past, though she did not need -spoken words to know. He, manlike, thought that -he was keeping this knowledge of his supreme affection -for her a secret in his own soul, to be delivered -as a startling and effective surprise when an impressive -and strategic opportunity should come to tell her -of it. She, womanlike, read him as easily as a college -professor is supposed to read Greek, and concerned -herself chiefly with feigning ignorance of his interest -in her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise's true attitude toward Rutledge was a sort -of neutrality. She was neither for him nor against -him. She was attracted by everything she saw or -knew of him, and looked upon him with that more -than passing interest which every woman has for a -man who has asked or will ask her to be his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the other hand she was decided she could not -accept Rutledge. She had but crossed the threshold -of her unfettered young womanhood, and her natural -and healthy zest in its pleasures overcame any natural -impulse to choose a mate. Added to this were the -possibilities held out in her romantic imagination as -the increasing newspaper prophecies concerning her -father induced day-dreams of court-like scenes and -princely suitors when she should be the young lady -of the White House, the most exalted maiden in great -America, with the prerogative of a crown princess. -A temporary prerogative surely, but well-nigh -irresistible when combined with the compelling charm of -American womanhood, that by right of genius -assumes the high positions for which nature has -endowed the gentlewomen of this republic, and by right -of fine adaptability and inborn queenliness establishes -and fortifies them, as if born to the purple, in the -social high places of older civilizations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise Phillips, with all her democratic training, with -her admirable good common sense, with her adorable -kindliness of heart and friendliness of spirit for every -man and woman of high or low degree, with her -sincere admiration for true manliness and pure womanliness -unadorned by any tinsel of arbitrary rank, with -all her contempt for the shams and pretences of -decayed nobilities parading dishonoured titles, was yet -too much a woman and too full of the romantic -optimism of life's spring-time not to dream of princely -youths wearing the white flower of blameless lives -who would come in long procession to attend her -temporary court.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in that procession as it even now passed -before her imagination, she kept watch for </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>,—the -ideal of her maiden soul, the master of her virgin -heart;—</span><em class="italics">him</em><span>, with the blue eyes and flaxen hair and -the commanding figure that looked down upon all -other men;—</span><em class="italics">him</em><span>, with the look and gesture of power -that men obeyed and women adored, and that became -tender and adoring only for her;—</span><em class="italics">him</em><span>, with a rank -that made him to stand before kings with confidence, -and a clean life that might stand before her white soul -and feel no shame;—</span><em class="italics">him</em><span>, with a strength and courage -that failed not nor faltered along the rocky paths -by which the laurel and Victoria Crosses grow, and -that yet would falter and tremble with love in her -presence. Oh, the wonderful dreams of Youth! -How real they are, and how powerful in changing the -issues of life and of death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had Rutledge taken counsel of his mother or -heeded her disapprobation of Miss Elise Phillips, he -would have saved himself at least from the pain of -a flouted love; and if he could have made his heart -obey his mother's wish he would have avoided the -stress of many heartaches and jealousies, and of -slow-dying hope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Rutledge had her young womanhood in the -heart-burning days of the Great War, and the -partisan impress then seared into her young soul was -ineradicable. She had a youth that knew fully the -passions and the sorrows of that awful four years of -blood and strife: for every man of her house, father -and five brothers, had she seen dead and cold in their -uniforms of gray; and her antipathy for "those -people" who had sent anguish and never-ending -desolation into her life might lie dormant if memory was -unprovoked, but it could never change nor lose its -sharp vehemence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had objected to Elise from the moment her -son showed a fancy for her, and began quietly to sow -in his mind the seeds she hoped would grow into -dislike and aversion. She told him that "those -people," as she invariably called persons who came from -that indefinite stretch of country which her mind -comprehended in the term "the North," were "not of -our sort,"—that they were intelligent and interesting -in a way;—that Elise Phillips was unquestionably -fascinating to a young man, that her money had given -her a polish of mind and manner that was admittedly -attractive; but that she was not fitted to be the life -companion of a man whose culture and gentlemanliness -was not a product of schools and of dollars but -a heritage from long generations of gentle ancestors -who had bequeathed to him converging legacies of -fine and gentle breeding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evans Rutledge, however, was of a new day; and -his mother's theory that good blood was a Southern -and sectional product found no place in his thought. -He was tender, however, and considerate of his -mother's prejudices, and was never so rude as to brush -them aside contemptuously. He always treated them -with deference and tried always to meet them with -some show of reason. In the case of Elise Phillips -he sought to placate his mother's whim and capture -her prejudice by tacitly agreeing to the general -proposition while excepting Elise from it by the use of -Colonel Phillips' well-worn statement that his mother -was a South Carolinian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That makes Miss Phillips a granddaughter of -South Carolina," said Rutledge to his mother; "and -surely there cannot be much degeneracy in two -generations,—especially when the Southern blood was -of the finest strain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Rutledge admitted that the argument was not -without force, but solemnly warned her son there was -no telling when the common strain might crop out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's bred in the bone will come out in the -blood," she said, "and bad blood is more assertive -than good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evans loved his mother better than any other soul -except Elise, and he would go far and deny himself -much to obey even her most unreasonable whim, but -his love for Elise was too fervid a passion to be -stifled for the sake of a war-born prejudice. He -would win her; yes, he must win her; and he waited -only the winning moment to plead openly for his happiness.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-viii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was a morning in late September that Elise and -Rutledge went for their last canoe ride on the mighty -river. Mrs. Phillips and her daughters were to leave -for home on an early afternoon train, and Mrs. Rutledge -and Evans for Montreal an hour later.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a day to live. By an occasional splash of -yellow or red among the green that lined the riverside -and clothed the diminutive island in the stream, -Summer gave notice that in thirty days Nature must -find another tenant; and a taste of chill in the air was -Winter's advance agent looking over the premises and -arranging to decorate them in the soberer grays and -browns for the coming of his serious and mighty -master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lassitude of the hot days was gone, and life -and impulse were in the autumn breeze. There was -not a suggestion of melancholy or decay or death in -earth, air or sky. It was more as if a strong man was -risen from drowsy sleep and stretching his muscles -and breathing a fresh air into his lungs for a day of -vigorous doing. Not exhaustion but strength, not -languor but briskness, not the end but the beginning, -was indicated in every breath and aspect of Nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a morning not to doubt but to believe: and -Rutledge felt the tightening spring in mind and body -and heart, and the bracing influence made his love -and his hopes to vibrate and thrill. As with easy -strokes he sent the canoe through the water he drank -in the fresh beauty of Elise as an invigorating -draught. She was so </span><em class="italics">en rapport</em><span> with the morning -and the sunlight and the life as she sat facing and -smiling upon him, her cheeks aglow with health and -her face alight with the exquisite keenness of joy in -living, that she seemed to him the incarnate spirit of -the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crisp tingle in the air was not without its spell -upon Elise. No blood could respond more quickly -than hers to Nature's quickening heart-beats, and it -sang in her pulses with unaccustomed sensations that -morning. She looked upon Rutledge as he smartly -swung the paddle, and was struck with the strength -he seemed to possess without the coarse obtrusion of -muscle. She accredited the easiness of his movements -to the smooth water, in which he had kept the canoe -because of his desire to be as little distracted as -possible from contemplation of Elise's charms and graces. -The swing of his body and arms was as graceful as -if he had learned it from a dancing-master, and there -was a touch of daintiness about it which was his only -personal trait that Elise had positively designated in -her mind as not belonging to her ideal man. She did -not object to it on its own account, but surmised it -might have its origin in some vague unmanly -weakness—and weakness in a man she despised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had talked to him of a score of things since -they had embarked, passing rapidly from one to -another in order to keep him away from the one -subject he seemed attracted to from any point of the -conversational compass. At the moment she had been -so clearly impressed with his almost feminine -gracefulness the conversation was taking a dangerous -swerve, she thought; and for a minute she was at a -loss how to divert the course of language from the -matter nearest his heart. In a blind effort to do so -she unthinkingly challenged him to prove his sterner -strength which she had never seen put to the test.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's easy going here, isn't it?" she said. "What -a pity we couldn't have one visit to the island before -we go away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you wish to go there?" asked Rutledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would like to," she replied, "but of course we -cannot attempt it without an experienced canoe-man. -It is about time for us to return; don't you think so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That depends on whether you really want to go -to the island," returned Rutledge, who was quick to -see and resent the intimation that he was not equal -to the business of putting her across the racing water -between them and the small cluster of trees and shrubs -growing among a misshapen pile of rocks nearly -across the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am told no one but these half-breed guides have -ever tried the passage," he continued. "Not because -it is so very dangerous, I suppose, but because it is -too small to attract visitors to try the rough water."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They can get to it easily from the other side, -can't they? It seems so near to that," said Elise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Jacques tells me that the narrow water on -the other side runs like a race-horse, and has many -rocks to smash the canoe. Even going from this -side I would prefer to leave you here, Miss Phillips, -and of course that would make the visit without -inducement to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You allow your carefulness of me and your politeness -to me to reason you out of the danger," said -Elise, without any sinister purpose; but Rutledge -recalled Helen Phillips' words about Elise and heroes, -and became uncomfortable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I used them to reason you out of the danger," -he replied. "If the argument does not appeal to you -I am ready for your orders."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then let's go over," said Elise, prompted half by -the challenge in his eyes and half by her subconscious -desire to see him vindicate his feminine grace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I admit I am a coward," Rutledge remarked as -he turned the canoe toward the island.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, if you confess to being afraid!" said Elise -in mingled surprise and pity. "I certainly cannot -insist. Let's return to the hotel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mistake me," Rutledge replied as he sent the -light craft on toward the rapids. "My cowardice is -in permitting you to bully me into carrying you into -some danger. I should have the courage to refuse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would have me believe in your courage, then, -whether you choose danger or avoid it. That is -artful," Elise rejoined.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The word "artful" nettled Rutledge, and he put -his resentment into the strokes which sent the canoe -forward. If Elise Phillips could believe of him that -he would attempt to establish a reputation for courage -by a trick of words, words would be inadequate, of -course, to defend him from the imputation. There -was no chance now to convince her, he thought, save -to try the passage. So, despising the weakness which -would not let him point the canoe homeward, he set -his strength against the increasing current, and soon -lost thought of the argument in the zest of sparring -with the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise became absorbedly interested in the contest -and in his handling of the boat. The interest of both -became more and more intense as the water began to -slap the canoe viciously and toss them with careless -strength. A wave rolling over a sunken rock rushed -upon them with a gurgle and swash and passed under -the canoe with a heave and splash that tilted them -uncomfortably and threw a hatful of water over the -side. Another came with a more impatient toss, and -Elise crouched upon the seat to preserve her -equilibrium. Rutledge looked round at her face, which was -unsmiling but without fear, and asked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall we go back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," the girl answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They soon found that the water was swifter than -they had judged it from the shore, and that they had -not put across far enough up-stream to make the -island easily. They were nearing it, but the current -was becoming boisterous and they were drifting faster -and faster down-stream. Swifter water and rougher -met the canoe at every paddle-stroke. Rutledge with -his back to Elise dropped on one knee in the water -in the canoe bottom and gave every energy to his -work. If Elise had not been with him he would have -liked nothing better.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for the girl, she would not insist on this wild -ride again, but, being in, she was having many thrills -of pleasure. Rutledge's manner gave her confidence -that they would reach the island, but with how much -discomfiture she was as yet uncertain. She was -drenched with water from the slapping waves and the -swiftly flying paddle, which was Rutledge's only -weapon against the wrath of the river. She saw in -his resolute efforts that their situation was at least -serious if not dangerous, and she hardly took her eyes -from him; but with her closest scrutiny she did not -detect the slightest indecision or apprehension.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only once did fear come to her, and that but for -a moment. The struggle was now quick and furious. -They were in the mad whirl of crushing water that -tore alongside the island and was ripped and ground -among the bullying rocks. She heard Rutledge stifle -a cry as he sent the canoe out with a back-stroke that -almost threw her overboard, and the rioting current -slammed them past a jagged vicious-looking rock just -under the river's surface which would have smashed -their cockle-shell to splinters. When she looked down -upon it as they were shot past she thought for an -instant of death and dead men's bones. Then—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Out! Quick—now!" yelled Rutledge, as with a -strength that seemed as much of will as of muscle, -he shoved the canoe's nose up against the island and -held it for a moment against the fury of the water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise rose at his sharp command and leaped lightly -out upon a bare rock, giving the canoe a back kick -which sent it swinging around broad across the -current. As it swung off Rutledge, seeing no favourable -place below him to make another landing, quickly gave -his end of the boat a cant toward the island, dropped -the paddle in the canoe, grabbed the mooring chain -and jumped for the land. He jumped and alighted -unsteadily but without further mishap than so far -capsizing the canoe that it shipped enough water to -more than half submerge it and threaten to sink it. -With his effort to draw it up on the rock and save it -from sinking entirely, the water in the canoe rushed -to the outer end, sending that completely under and -floating the paddle out and away. He yanked the -canoe up on the island and, turning, looked straight -into Elise's eyes for ten seconds without speaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you say it?" the young woman asked -with amused defiance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say what?" inquired Rutledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you are dying to tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love you," answered Rutledge simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! You—you—impudent—you horrible!" -cried Elise with a gasp. "To presume I would invite -you to tell me—that! How dare you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare anything for you," said Rutledge. "I -love you and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop! Not another word on that subject—lest -your presumption become unbearable! You know -very well, Mr. Stupidity, that I expected you to say -'I told you so.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have told you—so—your—exp—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop, I say! I will not listen to another word. -Your persistence is almost—insulting!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Insulting!" said Rutledge in amazement. "Then -pardon me and I'll not offend again;" and he turned -to take a look at the fast-riding paddle as it turned -and flashed far down the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was glad of the chance to gather her wits -together and prepare a defence against this abrupt -method of wooing. Indeed she was on the defensive -against her own heart. One fact alone, however, -would justify her deliberation: that she was not -certain of her own mind. Friendship may halt and -consider, admiration may sit in judgment; but love that -questions, or is of two minds, or hesitates, is not love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned away from him and the river to give -attention to this new problem which was of more -immediate interest to her than the question of how they -were to get away from the island. Rutledge came -to her after awhile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Phillips," he said, "I have the honour to -report that, while we are prisoners on this island now, -our imprisonment will not be lengthy. Fortunately -I saw Jacques on the other side of the river and made -him understand, I think, that we have lost our paddle. -At any rate he put off toward the hotel at great speed, -and will be down with another canoe I hope before -you become tired of your island." And he added, as -if to relieve the tense situation: "While we wait I -shall be glad to show you over the premises and to -talk about anything that you may prefer to discuss."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise could not tell from the formal manner of -Rutledge's words whether he was really offended or -humourously stilted in his speech. She could be as -coldly polite as any occasion demanded; but, believing -that she had effectually put an end to his love-making -for the day, she met his formality of manner -in her naturally charming and friendly spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down here then, and tell me where you -learned to handle a canoe. I did not know canoeing -was a Southern sport."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not," Rutledge said, taking the place she -gave him at her feet. "I was never in a canoe till -I came here this summer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Mr. Rutledge, don't ask too much of -credulity. One surely cannot become skilful without -practice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not mean that I have never been on the -water before," said Rutledge; "but in my country -we do not have these curved and graceful canoes. -We navigate our rivers with the primitive dugout or -pirogue. I have used one of those on my father's -Pacolet plantation since I was a boy. The dugout is -made by hollowing out a section of a tree. That -makes the strongest and best boat, for it never leaks -or gets smashed up. It is very narrow and shallow, -however, and it takes some skill to handle it in a -flood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Were you ever in a flood?—a worse flood than -this?" asked Elise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. When our little rivers get up they are as -bad as this or worse. I have seen them worse. -During the great flood on the Pacolet some years ago, -when railroad bridges, mill dams, saw-mills, cotton -mills, houses, barns, cotton bales, lumber, cattle, men, -women and children were all engulfed in one watery -burial, the little river was for six hours a -monster—a demon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me about that," Elise said; and to entertain -her Rutledge told her at length the story of that -cataclysm of piedmont South Carolina. He went into the -details without which such description is only awful, -not interesting. Many were the incidents of heroism -and hairbreadth escapes and unspeakable calamity -which he related; and he told the stories with such -vividness of portraiture, dramatic fire and touches of -pathos that, with the roar of many waters actually -pounding upon her ear-drums, Elise could close her -eyes and see the scenes he depicted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In looking upon the pictures he drew with such -living interest she found herself straining her -tight-shut eyes in search of his figure among the throng -that lined the river-bank or fought the awful flood. -Time after time as he described an act of heroic -courage in words that burned and glowed and crackled -with the fire that could stir only an eye-witness or -an actor in the unstudied drama he was reproducing, -she would clothe the hero with Rutledge's form, -identify his distinctive gestures and movement and catch -even the tones of his voice as it shouted against the -booming of the waters: but with studied regularity -and distinctness Rutledge at some point in every story, -incidentally and apparently unconsciously, would make -it plain that the hero of that incident was a person -other than himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He might have told her, indeed, many things to -his own credit: especially of a desperate ride and -struggle in one of those dugouts which he had -volunteered to make in order to prevent an old negro -man adrift on a cabin-top from going over Pacolet -Dam Number 3, where so many unfortunates went -down and came not up again; but at no time could -Elise infer from his speech that he was the hero of -his own story. Her word "artful" still rankled in -his memory, and he swore to his own soul that she -should never, never hear him utter a word that might -show he possessed or claimed to possess courage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The only method by which Elise could deduce from -his words the conclusion that Rutledge was of -courageous heart was that courage seemed such a -commonplace virtue among the people of his section that -he probably possessed his share of it. Her curiosity -was finally aroused to know whether by any artifice -she might induce him to tell of his own exploits, which -his very reticence persuaded her must be many and -interesting, and she brought all her powers into play -to draw him out: but to no purpose. She refrained -from any direct appeal to him in fear that a personal -touch might turn the conversation along dangerous -lines; and Rutledge, having been properly rebuked, -waited for some intimation of permission before -presuming to discuss other than impersonal themes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While indeed it only confirmed her woman's intuition, -Elise was unconsciously happier because of Rutledge's -blunt statement of his love, for it made certain -a fact that was not displeasing to her. Yet she would -hold him at arm's length, for she could with sincerity -bid him neither hope nor despair. The glamour of -her day-dreams made the reading of her heart's -message uncertain. Rutledge had not the glittering -accessories that attended the wooer of her visions; and yet -as he talked to her she was mentally placing him in -every picture her mind drew of the future, and was -impressed that whether in the soft scenes where -knightly gallantry and grace wait upon fair women, -or in the stern dramas where bitter strength of mind -and heart and body is poured out in libation to the -god of grinding conflict, he, in every scene, looked all -that became a man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge's flow of narrative and Elise's absent-minded -reverie were broken in upon by the hail of -Jacques, who was approaching them from almost -directly up-stream. His canoe was doing a grapevine -dance as he pushed it yet farther across the river -and dropped rapidly down to a landing on the far -side of the island.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sacre! Wrong side!" he exclaimed when he -came across and saw where Rutledge had pulled his -canoe out of the water. "Here I lose two canoe -sometime. How you mek him land?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge did not answer the question but set about -getting his canoe across the island to the point -designated by Jacques as the place for leaving it. He had -no desire to stay longer since all hope of further -</span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> with Elise was gone; and in a few minutes -they were ready to embark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No hard pull, but kvick paddle lak feesh-tail," -said Jacques in explaining the course by which they -were to return, the which was plainly beset with -numberless rocks and shoals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sweem out seex times befor I lairn road," he -added as a comforting proof of the thoroughness of -his knowledge. The return was a simple matter of -dropping off from the far side of the island, floating -down a few rods, and then picking along through the -rocks across the river as the canoe gathered speed -down-stream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Phillips," Rutledge said when they were -ready, "perhaps you had better take ship with -Jacques. He knows the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their rescuer looked pleased at the honour, and -turned to pull his canoe within easier reach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thank you," she said to Rutledge. "I prefer -to go with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge caught his breath at the loyalty and the -caress in her voice, and ungratefully wished Jacques -at the bottom of the river. He handed her into his -canoe with a tenderness that was eloquent; and -Jacques, seeing through the game which robbed him -of the graceful young woman for a passenger, put off -just ahead of them, saying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I go fairst. Follow me shairp."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was no easy task to follow that canoe; and -Elise, as she watched the precision with which -Rutledge used the "kvick paddle lak feesh-tail," was -convinced that such skill had not gone to waste at the -Pacolet flood. As she looked at him when the rough -water was past and he was sending the canoe up the -river with even swing again, graceful as before, her -eyes had a light in them that would have gladdened -his heart to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They landed near the hotel and hurried straight to -it upon Elise's plea that she was late and must hurry -to dress for her train. Rutledge walked beside her -down the long hall of the hotel, and at the foot of the -stairway, feeling that opportunity was slipping past -him, he stopped her short with—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your answer, Elise! In heaven's name, your answer!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was again startled by his abruptness, and her -unrestrained heart's impulse sent a look of tenderness -to her eyes that would have crowned Rutledge's life -with all happiness, had not that glamour of her -daydreams, fateful, insistent, overclouded and banished it -in a moment. She looked at him confusedly a moment -more, then took a quick step away from him, -hesitated, and, turning quickly, said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no answer,"—and fled up the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge turned away dazed by the reply to his -heart's question. "There is no answer!"—as if he -were a "Buttons" who had carried to her ladyship an -inconsequential message which deserved no reply. -He could not get his mind to comprehend the import -of it; and he was walking back down the hallway -with a vexed frown upon his face trying to untangle -his thoughts, when Helen Phillips passed him and, -seeing him in such a mood after his parting ride with -Elise, prodded him with—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None but heroes need apply, Mr. Rutledge. I -warned you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge passed on with an irritated shrug of the -shoulders; and Helen, laughing, ran to tease Elise -for a history of the morning's ride and the reason -"why Mr. Rutledge is so grumpy." Little satisfaction -did she get from Elise, however, for that young -woman evinced as much of reticence as Rutledge had -shown of irritation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I told him none but heroes need apply," laughed -Helen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you know of heroes?" asked Elise with -a snap.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ix"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Within a week after Evans Rutledge and Elise -Phillips parted at the St. Lawrence resort, the -newspapers told the people that at a Saratoga restaurant -Colonel Phillips and his wife and daughter, and -Doctor Martin, a negro of national reputation, had sat -down to dine together. It was soon after this that -one evening, at his home in Cleveland, Ohio, Colonel -Phillips happened upon a mixed quartette (all -negroes) who had been brought over from New York -to sing at a sacred concert in one of the fashionable -churches, but who could not obtain what they considered -a respectable lodging-place. With characteristic -impulsiveness the Colonel, who heard of it, invited the -two men and two women up to his house and -entertained them overnight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On those occasions Mrs. Phillips had shown unmistakable -opposition to the acts of her liege lord. Elise -had more than seconded her mother in haughty -indignation; though with her superb training in -obedience she could not be openly rebellious. When he -had brought the quartette into his home Mr. Phillips -could not fail to see the pain in his wife's eyes as she -asked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was that necessary?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, can you not see," he replied with some hot -feeling in his tones, "that it was the only thing to be -done? They are very respectable people, all of them. -They are intelligent and well-bred, as you can see. -Why should the simple matter of colour alone keep -me from doing what I just as quickly might have done -for a white man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The unconscious humour of this way of putting it -did not reach Mrs. Phillips, and the Colonel's tone and -manner, not his words, kept her silent when he had -finished. She could not quarrel with him; and he -thought he had answered her reason, though he -admitted inwardly that her prejudices were unconverted. -Nevertheless he did not open the discussion again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen, however, naturally siding with her father, -did not hesitate to bring it up repeatedly, and -youthfully to descant at length and with some elaboration -of ideas on the propriety and admirableness of her -father's act. Mrs. Phillips, with the sole purpose -of preserving parental discipline and not wishing even -slightly to encourage insubordination, had very little -to say to Helen about it; while Elise answered all -the younger girl's effusions with sniffs of disdain.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>These incidents and Elise's womanly perversity and -curiosity really gave Evans Rutledge a great -opportunity if he only could have read the portents of -circumstance and calculated to a nicety the eccentricity -of a woman's heart. The entertainment of negro -guests at the mansion of an aspirant for the presidency -was given wide publicity by the press and was the -subject of universal though temporary notice by -newspapers and editorial writers of every class. Rutledge, -in his capacity as Washington representative of a -half-dozen newspapers over the country, contributed his -share to the general chorus of comment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Elise read in a Cleveland paper a clipping -accredited to "Evans Rutledge in Chicago American," -she suddenly became desirous of seeing that young -man again. The sentiments, stripped of the tartness -in their expression and a seeming lack of appreciation -of her distinguished father's dignity, were so in -accord with hers that she was startled at the exact -coincidence of thought—while still resentful of the free -and fierce criticism.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Resentment and thoughts of coincidences were -pushed out of her mind, however, by the question, -"Would he tell me again he loves me?" This was -both a personal and a sentimental question and was -therefore of chief interest to her woman's mind. Not -that she had a whit more of love for him than upon -that last day upon the St. Lawrence—oh, no; but his -love for her? his willingness to avow it? was it still -hers? was it ever hers really?—for not a word or -a line had he addressed to her since the day they -fought the river. She would confess to a slight -curiosity and desire to meet him when she should go to -Washington on that promised visit to Lola DeVale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge assuredly had escaped none of the -untoward influences which the Phillips-negro incidents -might have had upon his love for Elise. His good -mother religiously attended to the duty of impressing -upon him the disgraceful horrors of those affairs. -She found no words forceful enough properly to -characterize them, though she applied herself with each -new day to the task. What might have been the result -if her son's heart had been inclined to fight for the -love of Elise of course cannot be known. His -mother's philippics effected nothing, for the good reason -that he had lost hope of winning Elise before the -negro incidents occurred, and the personal turn his -mother gave them was only tiresome to him. Elise's -last words to him, "There is no answer," had put -their affair beyond the effect of anything of that sort. -She had not only refused him, but had flouted him, -treated him with contempt: yes, had said to him in -effect that his proffer of love was not worth even a -negative answer. He had gone over every incident -of their association, and, with a lover's carefulness -of detail, had considered and weighed her every word -and look and gesture; and, with a lover's proverbial -blundering, had found as a fact the only thing that -was not true.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Elise came to Washington on her visit -Rutledge knew of course that she was in town, and he -kept his eyes open for her. His pride would not let -him call upon her, for he had meditated upon her -treatment of him till his grievance had been -magnified many fold and his view had become so distorted -that in all her acts he saw only a purpose to play with -his heart. Yet, he wished to see her, wished very -much to see her—doubtless for the same reason that -a bankrupt will look in upon "the pit" that has -gulfed his fortune.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They met unexpectedly at Senator Ruffin's, where -only time was given them to shake hands in a -non-committal manner before Mrs. Ruffin sent them in to -dinner together. If each had spoken the thoughts in -the heart a perfect understanding would have brought -peace and friendship at least, but no words were -spoken from the heart. All of their conversational -sparring was of the brain purely. They fenced with -commonplaces for some little time, each on guard. -Rutledge, without a thought of Doctor Martin or the -negro quartette, formed all of his speeches for the -ear of a woman who had mocked his love; while -Elise talked only for the man who had written the -article in the </span><em class="italics">Chicago American</em><span>. She saw the change -in his manner, in his polite aloofness, his insincere, -careless pleasantries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is delightfully kind of you, Miss Phillips, to -come over and give Washington some of those thrills -with which you have favoured Cleveland."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the answer?" asked Elise blankly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My meaning is no riddle surely," said Rutledge. -"The Cleveland newspaper reporters have taught us -to believe that you are the centre of interest in that -city and that, as one signing himself 'Q' wrote in -yesterday's </span><em class="italics">Journal</em><span>,—something to the effect that -you radiate a sort of three-syllable waves which make -the younger men to thrill and the old beaux to take -a new lease on life. When I read that, I could see a -lot of small boys crowding around an electric -machine, all wanting to get a touch of the current but -fearful of being knocked endways."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now diagnose the form of your dementia," said -the girl. "You not only read but you </span><em class="italics">believe</em><span> the -statements of the penny-a-liners. Your case is -hopeless."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must read somewhat of such things—to know -my craft. I must believe somewhat of them—to -respect my craft."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is either knowledge or respect necessary, -Mr. Rutledge? The craft is admitted; but I had thought -the purpose of all this craft was the penny-a-line,—not -knowledge or truth—which are not only incidental -but often unwelcome. Why read or believe the -line after the cent has been paid?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are unmerciful to us, Miss Phillips. It is -true every news item of interest has its money value -for a newspaper man, but you must understand that -we try to use them honestly and say no more than -we feel—often far less than we feel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge's manner was serious when he had finished; -and Elise, feeling sure that the same incident -was in his mind as in hers, had it on her tongue's end -to reply with spirit and point, when he continued -lightly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that is shop. It is good of you to come over -now and gradually accustom us to those Q-waves -instead of giving us the sudden full current when -Colonel Phillips rents the White House. You will not -care if some few become immune before that time, -for there will be no end of rash youths to get tangled -up with the wires."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise had not been a woman if Rutledge's -impersonal "we" and "us" and suggestion of persons -immune to her charms had not piqued her. He need -not put his change of heart so bluntly, she thought. -Yet what incensed her was not the loss of his love, -but that that love had been so poor and frail a thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad you guarantee a full supply of the raw -material, Mr. Rutledge. It is a very interesting study, -I think, to watch the effect of the—current—on -youths of different temperaments: on the black-haired, -black-eyed one who raves and swears his love—to -two women in the same month; or the light-haired, -blue-eyed one who laughs both while the current is on -and when it is off; or the red-headed lover who will -not take 'no' for an answer; or the gray-eyed, -brown-haired man who would appear indifferent while his -heart is consuming with a passion that changes not -even when hope is gone. I will depend on you to see -that they all come along, Mr. Rutledge—even to that -young Congressman over there who is so devoted to -Lola," she added in an undertone, "if he can be -persuaded to change his court."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he will come. His present devotion does not -signify. There is nothing true but Heaven," -Rutledge replied, not to be outdone in cynicism by this -young woman who had quite taken his breath away -with her impromptu classification of lovers. His own -hair was black and his eyes, like hers, were gray; and -he saw she was making sport of him under both categories -and yet betraying not her real thought in the -slightest degree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beware, Mr. Rutledge. Only woman may change -her mind. Men must not usurp our prerogative."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True," said Rutledge; "but a man does not -know his mind or his heart either till he's forty. He -is not responsible for the guesses he makes before -that time. After that, he knows only what he does -</span><em class="italics">not</em><span> want which is much; and, if undisturbed, can -enjoy a negative consistency and content."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I may not defend the sex against such an able -and typical representative," said Elise as the diners -arose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither of these wholesome-minded young people -had any taste for such a fictitious basis of conversation; -but each was on the defensive against the supposed -attitude of the other, and the moment their -thoughts went outside conventional platitudes they -were given an unnatural and cynical twist. Both felt -a sense of relief when the evening was past. But -despite this condition, which prevailed during Elise's -visit, Rutledge could not put away the desire to see -as much of her as an assumption of indifference would -permit, if only with the unformulated hope that he -might catch unawares if but for a moment the -unstudied good camaraderie and congenial spirit which -had won his heart on the St. Lawrence. But the -sensitive consciousness of one or the other ever had -been present to exorcise the natural spirit from their -conversations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge lived bravely up to his ideas of what a -proper pride demanded of him, but his assumption -of indifference was sorely tried from their first -meeting at Senator Ruffin's. The mischief began with -Elise's offhand little discourse on the colour of eyes -and hair as indicia of the traits and fates of -lovers—particularly with her statement that a red-headed -man will not take a woman's "no" for an answer. -The point in that which irritated the cuticle of -Mr. Rutledge's indifference was that Mr. Second -Lieutenant Morgan had a head of flame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now man—natural man—usually has the intelligence -to know when a thing is beyond his reach, -and the philosophy to content himself without it. He -rejoices also in his neighbour's successes. But natural -man, with all his intelligence and all his philosophy -and all his brotherly love, cannot look with patience -or self-deceit upon another's success or probable -success where he himself, striving, has failed. In the -whole realm of human experience there are -exceptions to this rule perhaps; but in the tropical -province of Love there is none. There a man may -conclude that the woman he wants would not be good -for him, even perforce may decide he loves her not: -but the merest suggestion of another man as a -probable winner will surely bring his decision up for -review—and always to overrule it. So with Rutledge: -from the moment of Elise's unstudied remark he -conceded to his own heart that his indifference was the -veriest sham and pretence—while still a pretence -necessary to his self-respect.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-x"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Hayward Graham, with an honourable discharge -from the service of the United States buttoned up in -his blouse, was taking a look at Washington before -going back to re-enlist. He liked the army life, with -all its restrictions; and having by his intelligence and -aptitude attained the highest non-commissioned rank, -he was optimistic enough to believe he could win a -commission before another term of enlistment -expired. In this hope he was not without a fair idea -of the obstacle which his colour placed in the path -of his ambition; but in weighing his chances he -counted much on the friendliness of the newly -inaugurated executive for the negro race generally, and -most of all on the President's according his deserts -to a man who had saved his life. He would keep his -identity in that respect a secret till the time was ripe, -so that the President's sense of obligation, if it -existed, might not be dulled by the granting of any -premature favours—and then he would see whether -gratitude would make a man do justice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had more than a month yet in which to re-enlist -without loss of rank or pay, and his visit to Washington -was intended to be short, as he had several other -little picnics planned with which to fill out his -vacation. He had been there ten days or more and he -had walked and looked and lounged till he was -thoroughly tired of the city and was decided to leave on -the morrow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But that last afternoon he saw Helen Phillips. -Her carriage was driven slowly across the sidewalk -in front of him to enter the White House grounds. -The sudden quickening of his pulses at sight of her -was unaccountable to him. His gaze followed her -as she went away from him, and for the first time in -months he remembered in dumb pain he was a negro. -He tried to separate the thought of his blood from -his thought of the young woman, and to put the first -and its unpleasantness out of his mind while he -enjoyed the latter and its association with his college -victory and his patriotic enthusiasms: but he could -not think of her without that indefinable and -subconscious heartache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he came to his lodgings and opened up the -afternoon paper, the only item among all the notes -of interest that had the power to catch or hold his -thought for a moment was a brief statement to the -effect that the veteran White House coachman was -dead. Hayward sat and turned this over in his mind -a few minutes and then asked himself "Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next morning he applied for the vacant position -of coachman to the President. With the purpose to -conceal his identity during his little adventure, as he -thought of it, he gave only his Christian names: -John Hayward. With similar purpose he had dressed -himself in civilian clothes; but these could not -conceal his magnificent lines, and, though another -employee had been given the dead coachman's place, -Hayward's fine appearance was so much in his favour -that he was engaged as footman on trial. This was -really better suited to his wishes than the other. He -had not foregone his army ambition in a night, but -neither had he been able to resist the temptation to -spend a short time—the remainder of his furlough -at least—where he could see something of the young -woman who was so closely associated in his mind -with the events in his life that were worth while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward was not in love with Helen Phillips in -any sense—at least not in the ordinary sense; for -that undefined pain, a dumb monitor of the impossible, -kept him hedged away from that. On the other -hand, to his mite of natural feeling of inferiority -was added the respect for rank and dignity which his -army life had hammered into him; and his attitude -toward her was the devotion which a loyalist peasant -soldier might have for the daughter of his king. He -wished to be near her, to serve her; and he counted -himself fortunate that this opportunity had come to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>—And a superb footman he made, having every -aptitude and manner both of mind and body for form -and show; and being relieved of any humiliation of -spirit by his secret feeling that he had set himself to -guard and serve a crown princess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A superb footman he made—and a new-rich Pittsburger -offered him double wages to enter his service. -The sneer with which Hayward told him that he was -not working for money ever will be a riddle to that -Pittsburg brain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A superb footman he made; and with the added -distinction of the President's livery he always drew -attention and comment. The veteran Senator Ruffin -was entertaining a few friends with reminiscences -once when Hayward passed. One of the party said: -"Look at that footman. Phillips has a fine eye for -form, hasn't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," Senator Ruffin answered, "if he saw him -before he employed him, which he very likely did not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But do you know," he went on, "I never see that -nigger but I think of John Hayward of whose last -speech in Congress I was telling some of you yesterday. -The nigger has his figure and carriage, even the -set and toss of his head, about everything save his -colour. The first time I saw him get down from the -Phillips' carriage I thought of John Hayward, who -is dead these fifty years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was a man for you, gentlemen. No more -knightly spirit was ever carried in a kinglier figure of -a man. He was just out of college when I was a -boy, but I can remember that even then John -Hayward was a toast and a young man of mark down in -Carolina. Our fathers' plantations adjoined, and he -was the first man that ever stirred in my boyish heart -the sentiment of hero-worship. The Haywards were -men of note in my State in that day as in this, and -young John Hayward's future was as brilliant and -well-assured as wealth, fine family, abounding talent, -high purpose and personal force of character could -make it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>—"But we lost him. A former half-Spanish, half-devil -overseer on his father's plantation, who had been -discharged because of his cruelty and general wickedness, -had bought a small farm near the elder Hayward's -place, and was trying to establish himself as a -land and slave holder. This overseer came back from -one of his periodical trips bringing with him one of -the likeliest mulatto girls, as I remember it now, that -I ever saw. All the neighbours knew he could have -no good purpose in buying her, for he needed no -house-girl to keep dressed up in calico as he began -to keep her. It was but a few days before reports -of his terrible cruelty to her began to be circulated -by both negroes and white people, who heard her -screams as he whipped her day and night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Late one afternoon, a week perhaps after he had -brought her home, John Hayward and Dick Whitaker -were riding through the overseer's farm and heard -the girl scream. John, who was acquainted with the -situation, said, 'Come on, Dick, let's go up and stop -that;' and put his horse at the little gate and was -pounding on the overseer's door before Dick could -reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sound of blows ceased and the overseer came -and opened the door, revealing the girl crouched down -on the floor moaning and sobbing. When the -slave-driver saw it was John his eyes snapped in wrath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'What do you want?' he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I want you to quit whipping that nigger,' said John.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'You go to hell,' retorted the overseer. 'I'll -whip my slaves whenever they won't work like I—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Oh, master, I work, I work,' protested the girl -to John.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Shut up! you—' began the overseer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Yes, I know you work,' said John to the girl; -and he turned to the man, 'and I know—everybody -knows—what your purpose is, you fiend! My God, -it is crime enough for such as you to own the bodies -of women without your tearing their souls!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Get off my land, damn you!' ordered the -overseer; and then, as if to show his contempt for -Hayward and Whitaker, he turned again to begin -flogging the cowering girl, saying: 'She's my property, -and the law gives me the right to make her obey!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Stop!' thundered John, laying his hand on his -pistol as the slave-driver raised his arm to strike. -'You son of hell! The man who puts the weight of -his hand on a woman, even his wife, to make her obey -his passions, deserves to die!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whitaker said it was all over before he could -slide from his horse. The overseer struck the girl a -vicious cut as John was speaking, and his whip was -descending again when John's pistol flashed and the -brute dropped to the floor with a ball through his -brain...."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 74%" id="figure-67"> -<span id="his-whip-was-descending-again-when-john-s-pistol-flashed"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HIS WHIP WAS DESCENDING AGAIN WHEN JOHN'S PISTOL FLASHED."" src="images/img-098.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HIS WHIP WAS DESCENDING AGAIN WHEN JOHN'S PISTOL FLASHED."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was why my State lost John Hayward," the -Senator continued after a pause. "It was seen at -once that he must not come to trial. While the plea -of self-defence can always be set up, the fact that -John had killed the overseer in his own house and -after being ordered out, would have made the law -quite too risky. But beyond that it would have been -necessary, in order that the jury's sympathy might -override the law, to make such a presentation of the -proper limitations, and the abuses and horrors, of -slave management as would be clearly inimical, if not -actually dangerous, to public order and safety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So the State lost John Hayward," the Senator -rambled on. "He exiled himself less for his own -safety than for the sake of a system for which he had -no sympathy, but in which seemed to be bound up -the peace and happiness, the very existence, of his -people.... He went away, but the shadow of the -Black Peril was upon his life to the end.... He -went to Massachusetts, located in Boston, and began -to practise law. He was successful from the -beginning, though he always spent everything he made. -He married a most lovable and beautiful woman of -the finest family, and life again promised all he had -once seemingly lost.... He had been in Congress -two terms when I was first elected to the House. -Mrs. Hayward was the most gracious lady I ever -knew, and they made my first years here at Washington -altogether enjoyable, for they knew everybody -that was worth knowing and were great entertainers. -I remember that as a young bachelor Congressman -I used to think that if I only had John Hayward's -constituency and a wife the equal of his in beauty, -intelligence and diplomacy, I could be President -without trouble.... We served together in Congress till -the beginning of the Great War. It was just before -the outbreak that that fateful shadow fell again upon -him. His son—named for him: John Graham -Hayward—a boy that I had watched grow up from a -lad and loved as my own, was a student at Harvard -and had acquired many ideas of which his father had -no knowledge, and which would have startled him—with -all his well-known anti-slavery sentiments. The -boy's mother looked on the negro race purely from a -missionary standpoint, and had never given a serious -thought, I am sure, to the negro's social status.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You perhaps may imagine the shock that came to -John Hayward on going home late one afternoon to -dinner to find already seated at his table his wife, his -son, and a young negro about his son's age whom the -boy had brought in to dine with him.... John told -me about it a few months afterward, and even then, -with all his heart-break, his eyes would blaze with an -insane anger as he thought of that nigger at his table.... -He looked at the three for a moment; and then -he said things that blasted his home. He kicked the -nigger incontinently out of his house, and was beside -himself in the furious wrath he hurled upon his wife -and son. The boy resented his outburst, especially -because of its cruel effect upon the mother. The -father in uncontrollable anger at his son's resentful -opposition ordered him to leave his roof, and told -him that he was unworthy of the name of Hayward -and had disgraced it beyond repair. The boy replied -with spirit that he would not carry the name of -Hayward away from the house, but would renounce both -the house and it then, there and for ever, and walked -out of the door.... On his knees did John implore -his wife's forgiveness, and receive it; but neither -father nor mother ever saw the boy again.... John -tried, I think, to learn his whereabouts, and was -driven to desperation as he met failure at every point. -The moment the call came for troops, he resigned his -seat in Congress, volunteered in a Massachusetts -regiment and was killed at Bull Run....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As he was lost to his native State, so he was lost -to the nation—because the baleful shadow of the -Black Peril seemed to be upon his life.... Heaven -save my people—nine-tenths of whom, like him, -would deal with the negro in justice and righteousness -and helpfulness—from the stress and the blood -of an open conflict against social equality with the -negro race, and from the further unspeakable, -unthinkable horror of defeat in such a conflict if it shall -come upon them."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There can be no doubt Hayward found scant -recompense for his first month's service as part of the -White House </span><em class="italics">ménage</em><span>. The money consideration of -that service, as he told the gentleman from Pittsburg, -he valued as nothing; and yet it was the money that -held him over beyond the time limit he had set for -his little adventure and his return to the army. He -put his eyes on Helen but twice during the month, -and that only for a moment, and he had taken his -leave of Washington in less than a fortnight if his -training in the service had not accustomed him to -bear monotony with patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before his time was up, however, a letter from his -mother told him that she was hardly able longer to -bear the burden of her own support or even to -supplement his contributions by any appreciable efforts of -her own. Too long and too closely indeed had she -striven in his behalf, and the overwork was -demanding its pound of flesh in severe and relentless -compensation. Hayward thought he saw the hand of a -kindly Providence in having already provided him -with a wage sufficient to keep both his mother and -himself from want—which his soldier's pay would -not have accomplished; and he postponed his -military ambition and brought her to Washington, where -he might look after her comfort more carefully and -less expensively. Very grateful was he for an -opportunity to care and provide for her whose devotion -he had always known, but the heroism and stress of -whose struggles and the wonders of whose money-working -he was beginning to appreciate only since -leaving the all-providing care with which she and the -quartermaster had hedged him about from the -morning of his birth till ninety days ago.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While his intelligence, his spirit, his cultivated -ideals would not let him rest in entire content as a -menial—a footman to however high a personage—Hayward -yet found his first real basis of self-respect -in the consciousness of his responsibility for his -mother's support and happiness, and in the feeling that he -was equal to the duty so plainly laid upon him. -However he had no thought but that his present work was -temporary; and, to satisfy his taste for mental -recreation and improvement as well as to have a definite -purpose in his mental pursuits, he began in his spare -hours to study the books that pertained to his -proposed life-work as an officer of the army.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His first summer in Washington added no little -to his stock of that knowledge which men acquire not -out of books but at first hand. He had seen as an -onlooker something of life on both sides of the earth, -and had acquired more of the spirit of a cosmopolite -than nine-tenths of the statesmen who foregathered -in the nation's capital to formulate world-policies: -and yet of the actual conditions of life, of living, -which affected him as a bread-winner, as a social unit, -as one having a part in the Kingdom of the Spirit, he -was at the very beginning of knowledge when he -donned the White House livery. His effervescence -of interest in Helen Phillips in great measure -subsided, naturally, among the many new problems that -came to meet him, and with his frequent commonplace -beholding of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He soon was brought to realize that rigid limitations -were upon him not only by the colour-line which -was drawn straight as a knife's edge from top to -bottom of Washington, but by fences and barriers inside -the confines of his own race against which he -stumbled repeatedly and blindly before he dreamed they -existed. On several occasions he had met with slight -rebuffs in his friendly advances to persons of his own -colour, and ascribed them to ill-temper or uncouth -manners; but he finally received a jolt which waked -him up—in this fashion:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dropped in at the most imposing negro church -in the city one Sunday evening, and heard a young -woman of comely face and person, dressed in perfect -taste, sing a solo which, in the sentiment and the -purity and pathos of the singer's voice, met his idea -of all that is exquisite in song. When the service -was finished he spoke to a well-groomed man past -middle age who had sat beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The young lady who sang did it with marvellous -taste and beauty. She knows both how to sing and -what to sing; and since I'm at it I may as well say -that she's no-end good-looking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The older man could not conceal his satisfaction -and interest, for he had expended many dollars on -the singer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm delighted you think so," he returned. "My -daughter has had great advantages and she ought to -sing well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your daughter?" said Hayward. "You should -be very proud of her. Will you not introduce me to -her? I'd like to thank her for my share. I am John -Hayward"—and feeling some identification was -necessary—"footman at the White House."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Excuse me, suh," said the other, with but a very -slightly overdone manner; "we don't introduce -strangers to our families—specially footmen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The father's manner was not intended to be -offensive, but his answer verily exploded in Hayward's -face. Thanks to the younger man's training he did -not wince or change countenance, but he was so -bursting full of wrath that he never knew whether any -further word was spoken between them. He moved -with the throng toward the door, but stepped into a -vacant pew for fear he would run over some one in -furious impatience. True it was that in his attempt -to volunteer three years before, he had been roughly -impressed with the idea that there was some -recognized difference between a white man and a negro, -and in his association with the rough troopers of the -10th Cavalry he had become in a measure converted -to the correctness of the proposition generally: "but," -he thought in infuriated scorn, "I'm as good as any -</span><em class="italics">nigger</em><span> that ever drew breath! A footman, am I?"—and -he threw back his head with pride as he -recalled his answer to the man from Pittsburg—but -dropped it again with some humility at the thought -that he was now a footman for the money it brought. -At the door he spoke to an usher.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was the young woman who sang?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Porter—old Henry Porter's daughter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So the old scoundrel is Washington's richest -negro," he thought. "Well, his manners and his -money are not well matched. I'll even the score with -him yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the first heat of his resentment was off he -admitted that his request to be presented to the negro -magnate's daughter was abrupt, informal and unwarranted, -perhaps, but he argued and insisted that old -Porter ought to have seen that his unconventional -request was an impulsive outcome of his admiration -for the girl's singing, and at least have been a little -more gracious in his refusal. No, he would not -forgive the manner of it; and when he remembered the -song and its delight to his senses he found it about -as hard to forgive the refusal itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not in three years, except for an occasional -moment of patriotic uplift, had his soul had a taste of -something to drink—till he heard that song. His -spiritual sense had virtually lain dormant those three -years in the monotonous round of his world-circling -outpost duty. In successive enlistments he -might indeed altogether have stifled it, while -perfecting his intelligence, courage, strength and skill -as a soldier: for the only possibility—and there is -only possibility, no certainty or even probability—of -spiritual uplift incident to the profession of arms, -is that of developing a surpassing, unselfish love of -the flag. This sentiment in its pure fulness of bloom -is of the spirit, and is an exalted virtue; but not all -even of the heroes whose ashes the nations keep have -appropriated to their souls, untainted with selfish or -fleshly impulse, this the very flowering recompense -of their travail and heroism.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward had enlisted at the bidding of the most -admirable impulses and had made an excellent -soldier; but the monotonous round of garrison duty -after the brief war was ended had benumbed his -purely patriotic motive, and left only a great desire -for personal advancement. In the dull grind his very -highest nature had become stagnated; and it was with -the joy of one first awakened to unforeseen possibilities -that he felt reawakened within him by that one -song desires not of the flesh but of the spirit so long -stupefied and unfed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he became acutely conscious of his need in this -behalf, he was more seriously regretful than before -that an acquaintance with the singer who had revivified -his finer sensibilities might not be had to satisfy -in a measure the need which her singing had -recreated. Under the impulse of such desires he set -about seeking associates, friendships, wherefrom he -might appropriate to himself his God-given share in -the kingdom of the Mind. In his quiet and -unobtrusive search for friends among his race who would -be congenial and satisfy the craving of his higher -nature for companionship, success came with starving -sloth. Most of the negroes with whom he came at -first in contact were of an order of intelligence so -far below his own that they met not in any degree -the demand from within him, and the few that -possessed the intelligence were so unbearable in manner -that he found little pleasure in them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had held aloof from the troopers of the 10th -with the certain feeling that they were below his type -and below the type of the best negroes he knew must -exist somewhere: but he came to doubt the correctness -of his own estimate in his search for congenial -spirits in Washington. Educated negroes? Yes, -there were many that had seen as much of the schools -as he, and more. Men of money? Yes, scores of -negroes who could buy him ten times over with a -month's income. And yet it seemed that he could -not happen upon any in his limited and slowly -growing acquaintance who did not in some way offend -his tastes.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When the heat of summer came down upon Washington, -President Phillips' wife and daughters fled to -the shades of the family summer home, "Hill-Top," -at Stag Inlet on Lake Ontario. There, in a roomy, -rambling old house set back on the low wooded bluffs -which enclose in more than half-circle the peaceful -little bay, he and his wife and daughters, with a few -congenial but not too closely situated neighbours, -passed the hot days of summer, and stayed on usually -into the red-splashed autumn, when the little cove -put on its most inviting dress and brewed its most -exhilarating air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Hayward's fortune to be carried to the Inlet -with the family carriage and horses for the summer -outing. He was happy enough to be quit of brick -walls and asphalt pavements for a time, and to get -into God's out-of-doors, for whose open air he had -become so hungry in a few short months. His duties -were not very onerous, and he had much time to -employ himself with his own pleasures. One form which -this took was in learning to handle the various kinds -of diminutive water-craft with which his master's -family and their neighbours helped to while away -their summer vacations. Before the summer was -over he was a fairly good fisherman, a safe skipper -on any small sail-craft used in the inlet, and a devoted -and skilful driver of the gasoline, naphtha and electric -launches of which the cottagers had quite a number. -He was quick and adept at any and everything that -came to his hand, and so careful and entertaining of -the children of the near-by families whom he met and -amused when they came down to play by the water's -edge, that he came to be quite in demand as one -servant who "knew how" and could be depended upon -in any circumstances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen Phillips was still a girl, natural, ingenuous, -untouched by pride or affectation. She looked -forward with some zest of anticipation to the time of -her début two winters to come; but was well content -to have that time approach without haste. She -evinced much interest in the plans that her mother -and Elise made and re-made, discarded and revised -for the social campaign of the next winter, and many -lively and original suggestions did she make offhand -and unasked. But as for her own personal plans she -gave them no thought a day's time ahead. She was -quite willing to receive her pleasures in the order -chance ordained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so glad to get away from Washington and -back to Hill-Top," she wrote to her Cleveland chum. -"It was awful dull down there. Five whole days in -the week I had to spend trying to catch the style -dispensed at a Finishing School for Young Ladies there, -where it is possible to take lady-like sips and nibbles -at literature and music and art and things like that, -but where the real purpose seems to be to teach young -women to descend from a carriage gracefully. Just -think! Another whole year of finishing touches will -have to be applied to me before Miss Eugenia can -in good conscience certify that I may be depended -upon properly to arrange myself upon a chair in case -it ever becomes necessary for me to sit down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen's tastes were along lines widely different -from the Finishing School's curriculum. She preferred -above all things else a talk or a walk, a ride -or a romp with her father. She had no brother to -share her pranks and enthusiasms, her little sister -Katherine was much too young to be companionable, -and her father was her necessary and natural ally. -Him did she not only love, but him did she glorify. -Tall and straight, seemingly lacking in flesh but tough -as whip-cord, with a patrician face, prematurely gray -hair and moustache, Helen thought he was the model -of all manly beauty. None in life or in fiction was -to her thinking so brave or strong or good as he. -Being in her esteem strong in body, unerring in -wisdom, pure in purpose, fearless in spirit, he touched -the periphery of her ideal of manhood at every point. -Her mother and Elise often were amused at her -headlong championship of him upon the slightest -intimation of criticism, and rightfully were astonished at -her information upon public questions as they affected -or were connected with his political fortunes or good -name. Helen devoured the newspapers (a limited -number it is true) with no other purpose, seemingly, -than to know what people said of him. Of those -that favoured him and his policies she thought well, -and mentally commended their good taste and excellent -sense: but those that criticized! Woe to them -had she had power to utter condemnation!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One morning in midsummer Hayward brought the -saddle-horses to the door for the father and daughter -to take a canter and prove Helen's new mount before -the mother and Elise were up. They were about -ready to be off when a telegram was brought out to -Mr. Phillips by the operator who had an office in the -house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was ordered not to wake you, sir, but to give -it to you at once when you were up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips read it over slowly. Then he turned -to Helen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, little girl, you must miss your ride again. -I'm sorry, but it can't be helped."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, papa! Let the country go play till we -come back. You promised me this ride sure when -we missed the last one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't do it, little woman. Take the horses back, -Hayward," he said, and turned to follow the -telegraph man. But seeing the great disappointment in -Helen's face, he called to the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, Hayward. Get into a proper coat and on -my horse and see that Miss Helen has her gallop -round the Inlet and back without damage. Can you ride?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir," answered Hayward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought so. You seem to be able to do everything -else. Now you are fixed up, old girl," he said -as he chucked Helen under the chin. "Don't let the -mare all the way out. You don't know her yet,"—and -he was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most of Helen's pleasure in the ride was lost with -her father's absence, and yet there was much enjoyment -in it for her. She felt the liberty to choose her -own road, and decided to do a little exploring. She -set out at a good canter, with Hayward swinging -along a protective distance in the rear; and with the -exercise her spirits rose and she gave herself up to -the full joy of it. She forgot her father's injunction -and sent the mare along several stretches of road -with little restraint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward, on Mr. Phillips' favourite saddler, was -having the time of his life, and for himself wished -nothing better than that his young mistress would -keep up the pace; though he did not altogether -approve of her speeding down-hill. He did not like -the way the mare managed her feet on the down -grades. When Helen pulled up to ask him where -a certain road led, he spoke, unconsciously with -decision, out of his experience, but with all deference, -and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me, Miss Helen, but it is a little -dangerous the speed with which you ride down-hill. I'm -afraid your mount is not so sure-footed as she might -be.... This road you speak of leads out by -Mr. Radwine's cottage into the Lake Drive. It is worse -riding than those you have tried."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen thought Hayward's apprehensions were creatures -of his discomfort in keeping pace with her, and -she was nothing more than amused at his attempts -to limit the speed to his abilities under pretence of -care for her safety. She thought she would give him -one more shaking-up to tell her father about—and -plunged off down the Radwine road, leaving him to -follow as best he might.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward had passed over that cross-road but a -few days earlier and he knew its present condition. -Helen heard him call to her, but her spirit of mischief -was fully aroused at the thought of his bumping along -after her, and she gave the mare free rein.</span></p> -<p class="pnext" id="id1"><span>They were going down a longer and steeper hill -than any they had passed, near the foot of which the -summer rains had washed out the roadway. Hayward, -knowing of this dangerous place ahead, and -seeing that it was impossible to stop the young woman -in his front before she reached it, sent Prince William -after the mare under pressure of the spur and with -the hope to come up with her in time. He arrived -on the very moment of fate. The thundering horse -tore alongside the flying mare just as she reached the -washed-out road. Either through feminine excitability -at being overtaken or because of the defective -foot action Hayward had noted, the mare, when she -struck the rough road, stumbled and went down. In -that instant the open-eyed Prince William cleared the -washout with a magnificent stride, and the ex-cavalryman -swept his right arm about Helen and lifted -her out of the saddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly reining in his horse, Hayward brought him -to a standstill and gently lowered his astonished -young mistress to the ground. She was almost too -overcome to stand, and walked unsteadily a few steps -before she recovered herself. Hayward had thrown -himself off Prince William and was leading him back -down the road to where the mare had fallen. She -had already picked herself up, minus a saddle and -plus a few bruises, and was standing in the road -comparatively unhurt but shaking as with an ague.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward approached her quietly and she came -eagerly up to him as if to escape from her fears. He -looked her over carefully, and finding no serious -damage done, set himself about brushing the dust from -her with wisps of weeds and grass. Helen came down -while he worked with the mare, and watched him -some minutes without speaking. She hardly could -think of anything civil to say. She knew that she -had disobeyed orders and that he had warned her—and -that made her angry. The very silence of the -man became irritating to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he had done all he could to put the mare -in order he picked up Helen's saddle and started to -put it on, but stopped to ask whether he should -exchange mounts with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," his young mistress replied. "I've ridden -her here and I will ride her home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The negro put her saddle on the mare while the girl -looked on. When he came to buckle the girth he -found that the leather tongue was torn off. He -lengthened the girth on the other side and proceeded -to bore with his pocket-knife a new hole in the short -broken tab. Helen's eyes fell at length on the knife. -She looked at it uncertainly a few moments, and then -lost interest in everything else. Finally she could -keep quiet no longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you get that knife, Hayward?" she -asked with something like accusation in her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Helen, I got this knife in—that is, this -knife belongs to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait a moment," interrupted Helen. "Let me -see it.... Yes, it's the same. I gave my father this -knife on his birthday four years ago. I had the -carving done at Vantine's. How long have you had it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Helen, I have had it long before I entered -your father's service. I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know; but just how long have you had -it, Hayward?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Miss Helen, to be accurate, I've had it three -years and—four months."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hayward, were you ever in the army—the -cavalry—the 10th Cavalry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Miss Helen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were in the battle of Valencia?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Miss Helen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You took this knife from an officer whose life -you had saved, didn't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Miss Helen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Papa says the negro trooper saved his life and -stole his knife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I did not steal the knife, Miss Helen—I did -not know I had it till two months after the battle, -when they gave me back my clothes in the hospital. -There was—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That stealing part is one of papa's jokes, -Hayward. But you didn't know it was papa, did you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Miss Helen. I knew him when I saw him fall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What? And you've never let him know? Why -have you kept it secret?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward did not answer. She continued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He would be very grateful. He does not know -who it was, for I've heard him say so. All that he -knows is that it was a trooper of the 10th."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped and waited for an answer, but he stood -in silent indecision as to what he should say to her. -If he should now disclose himself the President would -doubtless weaken the force of his obligation by giving -him in token of his gratitude some appointment which -not only would fall far short of the lieutenant's -commission to which he aspired, but also would remove -him from the young woman who in the last minute -had become so simply and earnestly sympathetic in -her manner. He weighed the pros and cons quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why haven't you told him?" persisted Helen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have preferred not, Miss Helen. In fact there -are reasons why I cannot—must not—now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What reasons?" demanded Helen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, Miss Helen, I cannot tell you—nor him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not ashamed of it, surely?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Miss Helen. I would do it again this -morning—willingly—at any cost to myself. But do not -ask me to tell of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen regarded him narrowly for a minute in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you kept me from—death—also. Am I -not to tell him of that either?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please no, Miss Helen. If I have done you a -service and you think it worth reward, I ask that you -repay me by telling no one that I am either your -father's rescuer or your own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mystery always annoyed Helen unbearably, and she -looked at Hayward as if uncertain whether to -peremptorily demand his secret or to inform him she -herself would acquaint her father with the facts he -sought to conceal. Hayward saw something of her -purpose in her eyes, and pleaded with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Helen, I beg you. My reasons are -imperative—and honourable. When the time comes that -I may I will gladly tell your father, but if now you -would do me the greatest favour you will say nothing -of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Hayward was speaking it occurred to Helen -that she willingly would have her father remain in -ignorance of her disobedience and reckless riding and -its consequent narrowly averted disaster. This -consideration, together with Hayward's earnestness in -his mystifying request, finally prevailed upon her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, Hayward, if you insist. You only -will be the loser. It is puzzling to me.... But tell -me about your rescue of papa."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward, glad to buy her silence, gave her a modest -account of his very creditable bit of heroism, and -in response to Helen's interested questioning he was -still recounting incidents of the battle and his hospital -experiences when they reached the Lake Drive and -quickened their pace into a fast canter for home. -They arrived and alighted and Hayward got the -horses away to the stable without any one's seeing -the dust-splashed mare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen could hardly contain herself with her -knowledge, but she was as scrupulously honest as she was -impulsive, and stood by her promise not to divulge -the footman's secret. She vainly tried to imagine -some satisfactory explanation of his strange request, -but could conceive none that seemed plausible. She -finally came to believe that he was a heroic soul whom -some implacable misfortune had denied the right to -the fruits of his heroism, and in her heart she pitied -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward was not certain just how far his young -mistress credited him with good and honest reasons -for wishing his identity to remain undisclosed to her -father. He feared that she must think any reason -inadequate. He was very much afraid that in all her -interested inquiries she would discover that he was -not using his real name. If she became possessed of -that knowledge she doubtless would think the circumstance -sufficiently suspicious to warrant her laying -all the facts before her father. This matter of his -name perplexed him no little. He gladly would have -Helen acquainted with the facts relating to the -crimson pennant, and yet he must guard against it. That -would reveal his masquerade, as she certainly would -remember the name of the Harvard man who had -saved his college from defeat. He heartily regretted -the excess of caution which had made him place -himself in this dilemma.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In the long and lazy summer days that came after -that morning's ride Helen was given without seeking -it some little opportunity to question the footman -about the ever interesting matter of her father's -rescue and allied incidents of battle and campaign. Her -father insisted, on a few occasions when he could -not accompany her, on her riding alone, with Hayward -as a guard. In her sailing parties, also, in which -Hayward was usually skipper of sailboat or launch, -she was thrown occasionally with him alone before -she had picked up, or after she had dropped off, her -guests at the several landings around the Inlet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had a child's interest in listening to the -ex-trooper's reminiscences of the battle of Valencia, the -Venezuelan campaign, and of his world's-end following -of the flag. The footman, never for a moment -lacking in deference or presuming upon the liberty of -speech allowed him, was an entertaining talker. He -had used his eyes and his ears in his journeyings -through the earth, and the lively imagination -characteristic of his race and his negro knack of -mimicry, together with his intelligence and his ability to -use the English language with precision and skill, -made him a raconteur of fascinating charm. Helen -quite often wished to acquaint her father and mother -and Elise with some of the things he recounted to -her, but the tales were always so mixed in with his -experiences as a soldier that she could not re-relate -them without breaking her promise to respect his -secret....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And thus the summer days dragged slowly to an -end, with Helen and her footman becoming at odd -times better acquainted with the thoughts and -personal views each of the other on a wider and ever -wider range of subjects. Helen was too unsophisticated -in her thought to notice anything unusual in a -lackey's being possessed of Hayward's intelligence -and ease of manner. The ever present mystery of -his refusal to exploit his heroic deeds dwarfed or -overshadowed all other questions that might have -arisen in her mind as to anything out of the ordinary -in him. She did believe that he was suffering some -sort of martyrdom in silence, and her womanly -sympathy grew stronger as she knew more of him. Not -for a moment was the relation of mistress and man -lost sight of by either; but the revelation of the real -woman and man, each to other, went steadily on.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xiii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The era of good feeling seemed to have been ushered -in along with Mr. Phillips' inauguration. The -country was prosperous to a degree. Labour was -receiving steady employment and a fair wage and -uttered no complaint. Capital was adding surplus to -per cent., and was content. The Cuban skirmish with -Spain and the trial-by-battle with Germany had -cemented again in blood the sections divided by the -Great War—so closely indeed that nobody, not even -Presidents on hand-shaking junkets, thought to -mention it. Any sporadic "waver of the bloody shirt" -was considered an anachronism and laughed at as a -harmless idiot. It was true that the negro question, -being present in the flesh and incapable of banishment, -was yet a momentous problem: but it was considered -in cooler temper as being either a national or a local -question—not sectional in any sense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>President Phillips in his first message to Congress, -as in his inaugural address, felicitated his countrymen -upon the unity of the American people and the American -spirit, and on both occasions gave a new rhetorical -turn and oratorical flourish to the statement that -his father was from Massachusetts and his mother -a South Carolinian. In sections of the South where -his party was admittedly effete or undoubtedly -odorous he hesitated not to appoint to office men of -political faith radically differing from his own—and all -good citizens applauded. Partisanry was settling -itself down for a good long sleep, and strife had ceased. -The lion and the lamb were lain down together, and -there was none that made afraid in all the holy -mountain of American good-will and fair prospect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Into this sectionally serene and peaceful situation, -which Mr. Phillips deemed largely the result of his -personal effort as a non-sectional American executive, -he deliberately or impulsively pitched an issue -which set one-third of his admiring countrymen by -the ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The good commonwealth of Mississippi was in a -state of upheaval. A peaceable revolution was being -attempted there which would have changed the -essential nature and purpose of the State government. -Incited by the wordy eloquence of a provincial governor, -with a few scraps of statistics gone mad, good men, -honest men, men of intelligence were seriously -considering the proposition to so amend the State -constitution as to put upon the negro in his ignorance -and poverty the whole burden of his own education—by -a division of the school fund between the races -in proportion to the taxes each paid to the State.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This reactionary and truly astonishing proposition -of Governor Wordyfellow was commonly known as -the Wordyfellow Idea. It was giving great concern -to the sober statesmanship of the entire nation, North -and South—indeed greater concern to the thoughtful -men of the South who realized its momentous -import, its far-reaching effect upon Southern white -people, than to the thoughtful outsiders who viewed -it philosophically as having a speculative interest but -no actual part in its settlement or effects.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The proposition to so divide the school funds -indeed found its most violent and active opposition, -as it found its strongest advocates, not only among -the men of the South but even in the very State of -Mississippi itself. The fact soon developed that this -was to be the greatest political battle that was to be -fought concerning the negro. All prior conflicts had -been white man against negro. This was white man -against white man, with the negro as an interested -onlooker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lines were drawn roughly with the church, the -schools and the independent press allied against the -politicians, the political press and the less intelligent -citizenship. Notable individual exceptions there were -to this alignment—which all men remember—but -the line of cleavage, taking it by and large, was as -stated. Though the matter of an actual constitutional -revision was presented as yet only to the people of -Mississippi, the battle was being waged in serious -purpose to a no less actual finish in every State from -the Potomac to the Rio Grande.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was into this situation, fraught with dire -possibilities of course, but full of promise to the negro's -friends, that the new President projected his -impulsive and forceful personality. Anxious as always to -be in the fight and leader in the fight, he set about to -devise some plan for helping along the black man's -cause. That he might do this more intelligently he -conferred often with his most trusted advisers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was on the occasion of the memorable -Home-Coming Week at Cleveland in 191- that he held the -famous conference which gave that great civic -celebration a fixed place in history. He stood loyally by -his home city in its effort to enjoy and advertise -itself, for he betook himself and family and several -friends, including two members of his cabinet, away -from busiest Washington for two days, and opened -up his Cleveland home at great expense for that brief -stay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Doctor Woods, a negro of national reputation, also -claimed Cleveland as his birthplace, and he had -journeyed thither from afar to swell the throng of loyal -sons of the city, and had brought with him Doctor -Martin, now a bishop of the A.M.E. Zion Church, -to add dignity and strength to the negro end of the -programme. Meeting officially with these two -dignitaries of colour suggested to Mr. Phillips a -discussion of the Wordyfellow disturbance, and he called -an impromptu consultation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In between the review of a morning parade and -luncheon, therefore, on the second day of his stay, -he sandwiched this hurried conference. At it, beside -Martin and Woods, were Secretary of the Navy -Mackenzie, whose wisdom seemed to cover all politics and -statecraft, and the Secretary of Agriculture, -Baxter—himself a Mississippian, but thoroughly opposed -to the Mississippi governor's policy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The conference, which was held at Mr. Phillips' -home, rejoiced his heart. He was pleased at the -favourable reports which Bishop Martin and Doctor -Woods gave of the situation in the several Southern -States. He accepted with approval the suggestions -of the sapient Mackenzie; and when he saw with -what earnestness and vigour and assured personal -knowledge of the situation Baxter was putting his -energies into the fight and predicting victory even in -Mississippi, his enthusiasm knew no bounds. The -conference was of such interest that luncheon was -announced before a definite plan of action was -threshed out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By George, I'm hungry as a wolf!" exclaimed -Mr. Phillips. "Come along to the dining-room, -gentlemen, and we'll wind this thing up while we -replenish our stores."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While this invitation was quite unexpected by the -bishop and Doctor Woods, it completely confounded -Secretary Baxter who was right in the middle of a -little speech when the interruption and invitation -came. He looked confused for a moment, and began -mumbling some excuse as Mr. Phillips held open the -door and his other guests passed out into the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you don't have to go," said Mr. Phillips. -"Come on and finish up your idea. I know you have -no other engagement, for you were to lunch with -me to-day to discuss that Williams matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Secretary of Agriculture saw he was caught, -and his manner changed in a moment as he decided -to meet the issue squarely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will please excuse me, Mr. President," he -said formally and finally.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Baxter, surely I do not have to explain to -you that—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You certainly do not, Mr. President," interrupted -the Secretary. "Good morning, gentlemen,"—and -he bowed himself out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>President Phillips turned in ill-restrained anger and -followed his guests to the dining-room. They found -Mrs. Phillips and Helen awaiting them. With these -Mr. Mackenzie shook hands, and to them the -President introduced Doctor Woods. The bishop was -already acquainted, and spoke of the dinner at the -Saratoga restaurant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Phillips had long been accustomed to the -surprises her husband made for her, and had too good -control of her faculties to show any annoyance on -beholding her unexpected and unwelcome guests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Any possible shade of restraint in her manner -would not have been noticed, however, in the general -feeling of constraint which Mr. Baxter's abrupt -departure had left on Mr. Phillips and his other guests. -The host set himself to the task of throwing off this -feeling by plunging volubly into a résumé of the -discussion they had been having. His vigour and -enthusiasm were such that by their very physical force he -was bringing a wholesome situation to pass, when -Elise came humming down the hall with Lola DeVale, -stopped short in the doorway—and turned quickly back.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 74%" id="figure-68"> -<span id="elise-stopped-short-in-the-doorwayand-turned-quickly-back"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""ELISE ... STOPPED SHORT IN THE DOORWAY—AND TURNED QUICKLY BACK."" src="images/img-126.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"ELISE ... STOPPED SHORT IN THE DOORWAY—AND TURNED QUICKLY BACK."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>While there was nothing unusual or pointed in -Elise's manoeuvre her father felt and resented her -protest. He talked away for a few minutes in -nervous hope that his supposition was wrong and that she -would come and bring Lola in to lunch. When she -did not his choler rose at this open mutiny in his own -household, and he awkwardly tossed the ball of -conversation to Mackenzie and busied himself keeping -his indignation within bounds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From this point the meal progressed uncertainly. -In the midst of the embarrassment of it all there was -brought to the President a note, upon opening which -he read:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"SIR:—I have the honour to present my resignation -as Secretary of Agriculture, to take effect at -the earliest moment you may be able to relieve me of -the duties of the office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With assurances of my highest consideration and -sincerest good wishes for yourself and the success -of your administration, I am</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Your obedient servant,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"W. E. BAXTER."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At the bottom of the page there was added:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"P.S.—I am willing to assign any plausible reason -for this resignation that you may desire, or that -may suggest itself to you as likely to relieve you of -any embarrassment as a result of it. W.E.B."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Phillips punctuated his first hasty perusal of -the note with a snort of contempt, and checked an -outburst of sarcastic, wrathful comment to read it -over a second time. Fortunately at this moment -Bishop Martin and Doctor Woods rose and apologized -for having to withdraw in order to catch a -train.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their host was loth to have them go, and expressed -regret that they had not been able to arrive -at some definite plan of campaign. He asked that -they inform him if they should come to Washington, -so that he might discuss the subject further with -them. Expressing their great pleasure that the chief -executive took such a lively and intelligent interest in -the weal and progress of their race, the two negro -worthies withdrew, Mrs. Phillips dismissing them -with a formal bow and smile and Helen, following -her father, giving them a cordial hand-shake as they -retired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they had gone Mr. Phillips thrust the letter -of resignation at Mackenzie, and exploded:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mac, just read that! The provincial, patronizing, -postscript-writing popinjay! Could you have -imagined the impudence of it! Does not wish me to -be embarrassed as a result of his quitting us—the -conceited ass! I wonder if he thinks I care a rap, or -that the people care, for his cheap little melodramatics. -I might have known that it was too much to have -expected a sensible secretary from that cursed -negro-phobia State! But he was so strongly pressed for a -cabinet appointment, and really did appear to be such -a strong fellow. I might have guessed his apparent -excellences were too good to be true! Oh, but the -patronizing insolence of his offer to hush it up for us! -I swear it's unbearable. Damn the superior high-and-mighty -airs these Southerners assume! My mother -was a South Carolinian, but I can't feel a -sympathetic tremor in my blood for any such damnable -bigotry. I'll give Mr. Baxter and all his hide-bound, -moss-backed, supercilious gang to know that this is -one administration that proposes to make a -democratic government a reality in this democratic -country. A man shall be measured by the essential -qualities of manhood he possesses, and dealt with -accordingly, whatever his position, pull, size, sentiments, -claims or colour! What do you think of that infernal note?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He does show great consideration for us—distinguished -consideration, I may say. He will not -tell it on us," sarcastically commented Mackenzie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The devil take his distinguished consideration!" -snapped Mr. Phillips. "I'll accept his little -resignation before he can wink, and give the papers a full -statement of the circumstances just as they occurred. -I'll show the upstart what a small potato he -is—damn his impudence! And then just to think, Mac, -of the inexpressible insult in refusing to lunch with -persons that I deem worthy to dine with my wife and -daughters! It really makes it almost too damnably -personal to be overlooked. He must understand that -respectability, presentability, acceptability, in my -home is a matter that is as sacred to me as such -things are to him with all his Bourbon notions!—but -thank God he may understand also that such -acceptability is based on true merit, and that a man's -colour has absolutely nothing to do with it.... -Come along with me to the library and we will accept -this little resignation before it gets cold, and have it -at his hotel before he gets cold!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xiv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Phillips, ill at ease during the luncheon, -had taken the opportunity to retire offered by the -departure of the negro guests, and had taken Helen -with her; but that young lady, feeling the electric -condition of the atmosphere and full of lively -curiosity, had returned to hover around the dining-room -door and learn what all the row was about. She -heard her father's outburst with great interest—being -no little shocked at his sulphurous words, but no -less deeply concerned at the suggestion of embarrassment -to him politically, and forcibly and enthusiastically -impressed with his fine scorn of subterfuge and -manly decision to fight out his battles in the open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When President Phillips came in to dinner and -asked for his daughters, their mother told him Helen -was in her room and Elise had gone driving with Lola. -"I did not like Elise's conduct at lunch. It was -too pointed, entirely too pointed. I shall talk to the -young lady very plainly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Hayne, don't worry the child with this -affair. It is bad enough as it is. I hope—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bad enough as it is! Why, one would think you -wished to resign also. Were you insulted, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not insulted, Hayne; but ever since you sent -me to the pinelands of North Carolina that winter for -Elise's throat I have not been able to think of a negro -as I did before—and Elise feels the same way, I -know. It is so plain down there: the negroes are -so many and so—different. I can't receive them -with any sort of pleasure. Just think of what the -Southern papers will have to say. The awful things -they said about your negro quartette were almost -unbearable, and I know that was mild to what this will -be. I do wish you had not brought them in to lunch, -Hayne."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, May, you are surely not going over against -me with those supercilious Southern fanatics?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hayne! That is almost insulting. You know that -I am for you against the world, whatever comes. No -one, not even Elise or Helen, has ever heard me offer -the least criticism of anything you have done—and -no one ever will, my dearest"—she spoke simply and -earnestly as she held her hands up toward him in a -gesture eloquent of abiding love—"but I cannot -have pleasure in receiving negroes. I have seen the -negro as he really is, and I cannot feel that some -soap and water and a silk hat make a—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop, May, right there"—Mr. Phillips' arms -went about his wife in tenderness as he placed a hand -upon her lips. "Listen to me. You dear women -are creatures of impulse and sentiment—and thank -Heaven for that, too: for when the time ever comes -that you shall judge men from your heads instead of -your hearts, woe to us!"—and he kissed her hair -in reverent gentleness—-"but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, this is an idyllic scene!" exclaimed Elise, -coming into the room with Helen. "It is better than -a play. Daddy dear, you do it beautifully. You -should have gone on the stage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips' state of mind, his bottled-up -vexation because of Elise's behaviour at luncheon, his -impatience at the interruption of his conversation -with his wife at the point where she seemed to have -made out her case against him and before he had -opportunity to demolish her sentiment with masculine -logic, added to Elise's lightness of manner and speech, -which nettled him in his serious concern over Baxter's -resignation, were, all together, too much for -moderation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now look here, young lady," he growled out -ungraciously, "you have presumed entirely too much -upon your privileges to-day. When did you become -too good to dine with people your mother and sister -were entertaining?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, papa!" the girl exclaimed in amazement at -the roughness of his manner;—but the sternness of -his face did not relax, and she stumbled along seeking -some excuse. "Lola and I did not want any lunch, -and all those men—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop! Don't be a dodger! You know very well, -miss, that you declined to lunch because Bishop -Martin and Doctor Woods were there. Now you must -understand that I am as regardful of your honour -as you are, that my life is at your service to protect -it against the slightest affront, but that I will not be -sponsor for any silliness, and will certainly not -overlook or permit any high-flown impertinence that -affronts me in the presence of guests of my choosing. -What do you suppose Mr. Mackenzie thinks of your -high-and-mighty rebuke to him for sitting at my table -in that company? He must feel very properly -subdued, I suppose you think. And the bishop and -Doctor Woods—they are doubtless overcome with -humiliation because of your refusal to meet them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dropped his overbearing manner as Elise's face -turned from crimson to white and her lips began to -tremble—for he was a tender-hearted and gallant -gentleman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now let me say once for all, my daughter, that -I must be the judge of who is a proper person to be -entertained in this household, and I want no more -such exhibitions of filial disrespect as you made -to-day. I think no explanation is due: but I will tell -you that one of the gentlemen who lunched with us -to-day is a bishop in his church and a leader of ten -million citizens of this country, while Doctor Woods -is a graduate of Harvard and Heidelberg, a man -whose learning is surpassed by that of very few men -in America, and is the very best type of his own race -and a creditable product of any race. Both these -gentlemen are entirely worthy of your highest respect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, papa, they are negroes!" said Elise, emboldened -to attempt a defence when her father dropped -his browbeating tone and assumed to address her reason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Negroes?—and what of that? It is not the first -time a negro has lunched with a President of the -United States. Calm your misgivings by remembering -that it is assuredly safe, either socially or -politically, to follow any precedent set by Mr. Roosevelt. -But further, my daughter, what does the term -'negro' impute to these men more than a colour of skin? -Nothing. My child, 'the man's the thing,'—his -colour is absolutely nothing. A negro must be judged -individually, by his own character and ability—you -judge white men so. He is not responsible for the -whole race, but for himself, and must stand or fall -upon his individual merit and not upon his colour -or caste. It is the glory of our America that it has -but one order of nobility—a man; and when that -order is abolished or others established our democratic -institutions will be a hollow pretence and our -decadence have set in. Heaven defend a daughter of mine -should be either dazzled by a tinselled rank or class -pretension, or fail to appreciate simple, genuine, -personal excellence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was glad enough her father had calmed down -and branched off into generalities. She was -discreetly, not impudently, silent, and took the first -opportunity to retire.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On that afternoon Elise had met Evans Rutledge -and had really found pleasure in his friendliness. -She speculated whether his manner would have been -quite so cordial if he had known of the luncheon -then but two hours past. She had seen no little of -him in a casual way since living in Washington, for -he was an acceptable visitor at most of the desirable -places. With repeated meetings they had come to -an unspoken truce, Elise being impelled to friendly -simplicity by her very nature, and Rutledge by the -love which would not permit him to deny himself any -opportunity to be near her despite some rebellious -notions of self-respect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge's vacillation of mind concerning Elise -was evidenced by his presence in Cleveland. It -comported very well with his former status as a -freelance correspondent that in search of "copy" he -should have followed the President out to Ohio, but -he confessed to himself that it was somewhat below -the dignity of his present position and standing as an -editorial writer that he should have asked for the -assignment as news representative allotted to his -paper on the Presidential special. He called himself a -fool, and—thought of many situations that might -happen to evolve themselves on the train.... They -didn't evolve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only one paltry three minutes' talk with Elise did -he win for all his journeying. He had stood by her -carriage that afternoon as she waited for Lola -DeVale in front of Vantine's, and they had talked in the -unaffected manner of the first days of their acquaintance -until Lola came out and invited him to join them -on an evening at the end of the week at an informal -gathering of young people at her home in Washington. -He had accepted with what he afterward -thought was childish and compromising eagerness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like that Mr. Rutledge so much. I invited him -for you, Elise," Lola said as they drove homeward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why for me?" asked Elise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I should say because of you. Can't you -see the reason in his eyes every time he looks at you? -I can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are mistaken there, my dear. I happen to -know that Mr. Rutledge loves, or once loved, a young -woman who has greatly disappointed him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has learned that her family—and perhaps -she—is impossible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you know of his love for the girl?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He told me himself," Elise answered with a -nonchalant air that proved her an actress of the finest -art.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He did! You were playing with fire, Elise. The -sympathetic 'other girl' is always in a dangerous -role. Did he tell you of his disappointment also?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no. But that was—and is—evident."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the girl? Was she really—nice—better -than her people?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. No—yes—that is, nice. Of course you -know Mr. Rutledge would not love a woman who was -not—nice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, certainly; but if he was really disappointed -in her, all the more reason he might find a solace in -your smiles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was her family rather than herself, I think. -He is uncertain about her—is afraid to love her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He does seem to have an uncertain look at times -that has puzzled me. I think you are responsible for -some of his uncertainty, however; or perhaps the -other girl makes him uncertain about you. If it were -not for her you would have to look to your defences.... -He must have loved her very much or he could -not stand the temptation you are to him.... I'm -glad you've solved the riddle, but very sorry you told -me. I have liked Mr. Rutledge; but I despise any -man who would not brush aside all obstacles to marry -the woman he loves and who loves him. Don't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said Elise uncertainly, "but, really, it -was—it may have been—because she did not love him. -I do not think he lacks courage—exactly. He -simply would not—pursue—the young woman because -her father's—because the—the obstacle -was—seemed—insurmountable,—but really I must not -be violating confidences. There is no reason why -you should not at least respect him, Lola. His course -is not without some justification, for the objection, -from his point of view, is—vital."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what if the girl loves him? Does she love him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, Lola, he—he did not inform me—whether -she does or not. He has not made the slightest -reference to the subject, nor spoken the smallest -of confidences to me since that summer on the -St. Lawrence.... I think he regrets ever having told -me anything about his—heart's affairs. I suppose -I should not repeat them—they were spoken under -peculiar circumstances."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is nothing peculiar, my dear. It is easy -to see why a man who is not free to make love to -you will choose the next best thing and talk of love -with you.... You would better be careful of -Mr. Rutledge, however, for I fear his loyalty to that first -love totters on its throne every time he looks into your -gray eyes. You must not shatter his faith in his own -faithfulness."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The second morning's papers were aflame with the -news of it! President Phillips, true to his outspoken -character, himself had called in the Associated Press -representative immediately on his return to Washington -and dictated a concise statement of all the -circumstances leading to Mr. Baxter's resignation. The -Secretary's house was besieged by reporters, but all -were referred to the White House for information. -The daily newspapers featured the item in every -conceivable style of display head-lines, and the affair was -a nine-day sensation in Washington and a reverberating -tempest throughout the South.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evans Rutledge by the force of his genius, his wide -knowledge of men and affairs and the accuracy of -his political information had gone rapidly toward the -front rank in his profession. He was now the leading -editorial writer on the </span><em class="italics">Washington Mail</em><span>, an -anti-administration organ.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of that paper Elise sought the first issue with -surreptitious eagerness. She picked it up fully -expecting to read quite the most scathing philippic she had -ever seen in print. She was surprised to find that the -former correspondent had put off his extravagances -for a more judicial editorial manner. She recognized -his work by several phrases that had been in the -</span><em class="italics">Chicago American</em><span> article.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The editorial was severe, but dignified and fairly -respectful. Rutledge commended Secretary Baxter -for his prompt and emphatic refusal to lunch with -a negro even though at the table of a President of -the United States and at the President's personal -invitation or "command." He said the fact that -Mr. Phillips had intended no insult made the insult no less -real; and that Baxter had done the only possible -thing—the duel being no longer in vogue—declined and -resigned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went on to say that there was an irreconcilable -difference between the Northern and the Southern -ideas of the social equality of the races; that the -Southern man's idea was bred in the bone, and no -amount of argument or abuse or lofty advice from -the Northern press, or boyish impulsiveness in the -President's chair, could change that idea one iota; -that while their fears sometimes might be lulled to -sleep, might be forgotten like other ills in the interest -or excitement of other concerns, the black peril was -their great Terror in both their waking and sleeping -hours, and even when asleep they slept upon their arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise read that in face of this Terror all other -questions were insignificant, and all arguments, -prejudices, passions, </span><em class="italics">loves and hates</em><span> (she put her -fingertip on the words) among Southern gentlemen melted -away or were fused into a mighty and unalterable -sentiment to go down to death rather than to permit -social intermingling with the negro race.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The editorial concluded that the Southern feeling on -this subject was ineradicable, and was so deep-seated -and universal that it became a great Fact which any -man of fair discretion and sensible purpose would have -recognized and reckoned with; that no President with -an abiding sense of the proprieties would have -proposed the luncheon to Baxter, and no gentleman of -the South would have hesitated for a moment in -declining the insulting invitation. The subject was -dismissed with the prediction that the cause of the negro -immediate and remote would be damaged immeasurably -by this act of the impulsive gentleman in the -White House who would take the Southern situation -by the seat of the trousers as though it were a -self-willed small boy pouting in a cellar and yank it -incontinently up the Phillips stairs of progress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no other subject discussed in hotel -lobbies, committee-rooms or wherever else two or more -men were gathered together on the day after the -facts were known. In the afternoon in one of the -committee-rooms of the Senate, Senators Ruffin and -Killam, Representatives Smith and Calhoun of -Killam's State, and Representative Hazard of a New -York City district, were ventilating their views on the -matter when Rutledge joined them, on the hunt for -Calhoun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The comments on the President's negro luncheon -were all adverse, though expressed in terms of -varying elegance and force from the keen and polished -irony of Mr. Ruffin to Mr. Killam's brutal outbursts -and picturesque profanity. Mr. Hazard, not having -the same sectional view-point as the others, though of -the same political creed, was an interested listener. -Senator Ruffin referred to the editorial in </span><em class="italics">The Mail</em><span> -and drew Evans into the discussion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young man, glad to be untrammelled by editorial -discretion, gave free rein to his indignation, but -in deference to Mr. Hazard's presence was careful to -make some allowance and excuses for the opinion of -Northern people on the matter of social amenities to -negroes. However, to compensate for this concession -and leave no doubt of his opinion, he was even more -picturesque than Mr. Killam, if not so profane—and -consequently more forcible, Hazard thought—in -paying his respects to Mr. Phillips' negro policy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Senator Killam resented even the suggestion of -excuse for Northern opinion, and opened up an even -more choice and outrageous assortment of profanity -and invective. Rutledge, Calhoun and Senator -Ruffin were ashamed at his disregard of ordinary -decencies, while Hazard assumed a look of polite -amusement. Mr. Killam's satellite, Smith, however, was -vastly tickled at his master's performance, and took -pains to show his surpassing admiration. Smith was -a raw-boned, half-washed giant with long hair that -never knew a shampoo, who owed his election to -Congress to a gift of stump-speaking and a consistent -devotion to Senator Killam's political fortunes. He -usually kept quiet when his chief was there to speak. -He did so on that afternoon till, carried away by -Mr. Killam's extravagances about niggers in white -dining-rooms, he blurted out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I suppose now Miss Elise Phillips will be -getting sweet on Doctor Woods. The nig—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Smash!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge struck him on the point of the jaw and -he fell in an awkward heap between a chair and the -wall. He was up in a moment growling like a -mastiff, but was restrained by Calhoun and Hazard. -Rutledge was standing perfectly still, his thumbs in his -trousers pockets, showing no excitement save in the -glint of his eye. Smith was muttering his desire to -fight it out. He could not talk plainly, for the blow -had unhinged his loosely clacking jaw. Hazard, -Killam and Calhoun held him by force till he was quiet. -It would have been impossible to prevent his forcing -a further clash perhaps if Senator Ruffin had not -insisted on ending the matter just there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gentlemen!" he said, "this must stop right here. -None of us can afford to pursue the miserable affair -further. We should all be ashamed that a young -lady's name has been used in this discussion at all, -and especially in such a manner was it unpardonable! -Mr. Smith certainly forgot himself; and while -Mr. Rutledge acted from a chivalrous impulse he will learn -when he is older that a blow usually advertises rather -than suppresses an insult to a woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It began to dawn upon Mr. Smith by this time that -he had committed a woeful breach of good manners, -and with a parvenu's awe of "propriety" he was -more than anxious to have the affair hushed up. -None the less did he wish to keep secret his -knockdown. He got out as quietly as possible in search -of a surgeon. Rutledge retired with Calhoun, who -slapped him on the back as they went down the -corridor and whispered, "Good old boy! Served him -right, the damn dog."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Senator Ruffin sent for the attendant who had left -the committee-room as soon as quiet was restored, -and bought his silence with a five-dollar bill. This -honest man was true to his promise to keep his mouth -shut, but he overlooked informing the Senator that -he had already given the first of his co-labourers he -met in the hall a fragmentary account of the mix-up. -He had given the names only of Senators Ruffin and -Killam, as he did not know the others, all of whom -he thought were members of the Lower House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The reporters were on the trail in an hour. They -interviewed the Senators, but these were dumb. They -found that the Senate attendant who had his information -second-hand was the only source of news supply. -What this fellow lacked in knowledge, however, he -supplied out of his imagination; and the details grew -and multiplied as different reporters interviewed him. -At best there was much to be supplied by the young -gentlemen of the press, and the result was as many -different stories as there were men on the job. The -nearest any of them got to the truth was to say that -two Congressmen had been discussing the negro -question and had come to blows because some woman's -name had been dragged in, and that one had broken -the other's jaw. This much in the evening papers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the next morning the newspaper ferrets had -located all the actors and eye-witnesses and gave their -names to the public. Fortunately the attendant had -not caught Smith's remark but only his rebuke by -Senator Ruffin. So that the public knew only that -Evans Rutledge had unset or broken the jaw of -Congressman Smith because of some improper use of a -young lady's name. Whose, none of the gentlemen -would say.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Evans Rutledge was in a fever of anxiety lest that -name should get to the public. He was sure that he -could not face Elise again if it did. Senator Ruffin's -rebuke had sunk deep into his heart and he felt more -guilty than Smith. He looked over the morning and -evening papers very carefully to see whether they had -discovered the young woman, before he finally -decided to go to Senator DeVale's as he had promised -Lola. When he arrived he found, beside Elise, only -Alice Mackenzie, Hazard and young MacLane, an -under-secretary of the British embassy. Others who -were to come failed to appear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was not pleased with the situation. She was -quite willing to be ordinarily civil to Mr. Rutledge, -but she knew that nothing could separate MacLane -and Alice Mackenzie, and that Hazard had known -Lola so long and had proposed to her so regularly -and insistently that he was for her or for nobody. -It looked a little too much, therefore, as if she had -chosen Evans for her very own for the evening. She -did not want him to think such a thing possible. She -remembered his point-blank editorial utterance that -those small sentiments—loves and hates—melted -away before exhibitions of social equality with -negroes—so at least she construed it—and she could -not but resent it, though she would not admit she -troubled herself to do that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, young people," said Lola, "as the -programme has been spoiled we will make this an -evening of do-as-you-please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good, very good," commented Hazard. "In that -case you will please to come over here and take this -chair and let's finish that conversation we were -having last night when the unpronounceable Russian took -you away from me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid that conversation is a serial story," -she laughed, taking the chair he placed for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>MacLane asked Alice Mackenzie some vague question -about a song, which only she could interpret, -and they by common impulse went through the wide -door to the piano in the back parlour, where after -she had hummed a short love ballad for him to piano -accompaniment they dropped into a pianissimo duet -of love without accompaniment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise, feeling that she was being thus thrown at -Mr. Rutledge's head, came to the mark with spirit and -kept him guessing for an hour. She resented his -possible inference that she had chosen him for an -evening's </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span>, and set about to show him that such -was not the fact by a display of perversity and -brilliance which dazzled while it irritated him. She -would assume for a moment an intimately friendly, -even confiding, manner that like the breath of the -honeysuckle at his Pacolet plantation home would -set his senses a-swim,—and in the next moment chill -his glowing heart with the iciest of conventional -reserve or answer his sincerest speeches with the light -disdain and indifference of a mocking spirit. At one -time she would kindle his admiration for her -quickness of thought and keenness of repartee; and again -appear so dull and careless that he must needs -explain his own essays at wit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her caprices, so plainly intentional yet inexplicable, -exasperated him almost to the point of open rebellion, -and the more evident his perturbation became, the -more spirit she put into the game. She won him back -from a half-dozen fits of resentful impatience to the -very edge of intoxication,—only to bait him again -more outrageously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola DeVale, perfectly familiar with the theme of -Oliver Hazard's serial, found time even while -admiring Hazard's ability to decorate his story in -ever-changing and ever pleasing colours, to note that Elise -was giving Rutledge a tempestuous hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a shame for her to treat him so," she said to -Hazard, interpreting her meaning by a nod toward -Elise and Evans.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hadn't noticed. What's she doing to him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe he loves her, and she has been treating -him shamefully all evening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that was it," murmured Hazard. "She -certainly ought to be good to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon, I didn't understand you," said Lola.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I said she ought to be good to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I heard that. But the other remark you made?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hazard caught himself, and looked at Lola steadily. -"I was so bold as to express an opinion—which had -not been requested—and to aver that—she—er—ought -to be good to him," he repeated with an over-done -blankness of countenance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You come on," said Lola as she rose. "We are -going to scare up something for you people to eat," -she remarked to the others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, sir," she said when she had gotten him into -the dining-room, "I'll see what sort of a reporter I -could be. Stand right there, and look at me. -Now.—why did Mr. Rutledge knock Congressman Smith -down? No, no, stand perfectly still—and no evasion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you talking about?" asked Hazard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be silly," the girl said impatiently. "I -read something more than the society and fashion -columns in the newspapers. Tell me. Why did he -break Mr. Smith's jaw?—who was the young lady?—and -what did Mr. Smith say of her? I know it -was Elise; but tell me about it—and hurry, for those -people are getting hungry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must not tell that, Lola," Hazard answered her -seriously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A man should have no secrets from his—proposed—wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Make it </span><em class="italics">promised</em><span> wife and I'll agree," Hazard -replied eagerly, taking her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; we'll leave it </span><em class="italics">proposed</em><span> awhile longer," she -answered him archly. "I've become so accustomed -to it that way that I'd hate to change it." The smile -she gave him as she slowly drew away her hand would -have bribed any man to treason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But we will compromise it," Lola continued. "I -will be real careful of your honour. I'll ask you a -question, and if the answer is </span><em class="italics">yes</em><span> you needn't answer -it. Now—was it not an insult to Elise that -Mr. Rutledge resented?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lola, when you said that word </span><em class="italics">wife</em><span> a moment -since you were—heavenly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush your nonsense, Ollie.... I knew it was -Elise when you said that thing in the parlour.... -Did Mr. Rutledge really break his jaw?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it was beautiful, beautiful," said Hazard with -enthusiasm. "Such a clean left-hander! Dropped -him like a beef—he's big as two of Rutledge—in -a wink—before he could finish his sentence,—the -low-bred dog! Yes, beautifully done, beaut—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here they come," said Lola. She was busily -breaking out the stores from the sideboard when Elise -and Rutledge appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, Mr. Hazard, take this dish in to that -mooning young couple in the back parlour. And you, -Mr. Rutledge, just force them to eat enough of these -pickles to keep their tempers in equilibrium."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Oh, my dear," she exclaimed when the two men -were gone, "I've discovered the name of the young -woman Mr. Rutledge fought for. Ollie let it get -away from him—not the name, but I figured it out. -And for whom do you suppose it was?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't the slightest idea," answered Elise in all -truthfulness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of all women you should. I told you I could -see it in his eyes,"' laughed Lola.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for me?" Elise cried in genuine surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did the man say?" she asked quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some caddish thing, of course. Men are so nasty. -I didn't have time to get the particulars before you -and Mr. Rutledge followed us in here. But Ollie -says it was just b-e-a-u-t-iful the way Mr. Rutledge -dropped him—and he's three times as big as -Mr. Rutledge, too—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've tried moral suasion, strategy, force, every -expedient," interrupted Hazard as he and Rutledge -came back into the dining-room, "but the Scotch lass -and her laddie positively decline to be fed by us. -They are fully supplied by their own ravings—ho! don't -throw that salad at me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, take a dose of celery quick—a biblical -pun like that is a too serious tax upon the simple -Congressional brain," said Lola.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hazard looked foolish, and he felt like a fool; but -what real manly lover outside the story-books was -ever else than foolish when love's fit was upon him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>None of the quartette in the dining-room was the -least bit hungry, and it was but a very few moments -till the young hostess led the way back to the parlour, -Elise and Rutledge following slowly. When they -reached the stairway Elise seated herself on the third -step and by the gesture with which she arranged her -skirts invited Evans to a seat below her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at that," said Lola to Hazard, glancing -over her shoulder as they passed into the parlour. -"Now she's going to be good to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the name of heavens, woman, you didn't tell her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not? She's the very one that ought to -know. She will not inform the reporters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what will she think of me?" asked Hazard -in some concern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You? Why, you don't count! You are only a -pawn in their game." As his eyes flashed she added, -with a bewildering tilt of her chin: "I promise to -make good all your losses."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May my losses prosper!" prayed Hazard audibly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Elise used a makeshift conversation with Rutledge -till she heard the humming accents of the others well -going, and then—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Rutledge," she said. "I wish to speak to -you of your defence of my name when that Mr. Smith—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The suddenness of it routed all Rutledge's cool -senses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Miss Phillips," he broke in, "I am so sorry -that I should have done anything to accentuate that -abominable fellow's remark. I am so heartily -ashamed of my unpardonable boyish thoughtlessness -and lack of consideration that I cannot find words -to express my contempt for myself," etc., to the same -effect, without giving Elise a chance to speak, till she -was surprised in turn, then amused, then annoyed. -Finally, in order to bring him to a reasonable -coherency, she interrupted his self-denunciations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did Mr. Smith say of me, Mr. Rutledge?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't repeat that to you, Miss Phillips."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must if the words are decent. Tell me at -once. I must know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He simply coupled your name with that of—Doctor -Woods—the negro who—lunched at your -home in Cleveland."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evans forced out the last half-dozen words with a -visible effort—which the girl may have misinterpreted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" She dropped her face in her hands. She -had not dreamed of that explanation. But she -gathered herself in a moment. Every pennyweight of her -admirable pride came to her support. At the mention -of "negro luncheon" she was on guard against -Rutledge, her kindly purpose forgotten. She sat straight -up and with a perfect dignity said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you, Mr. Rutledge, for your well-meant -efforts in my behalf, but my father is abundantly able -both to choose the guests who shall dine at his table, -and to protect my name, whenever indeed it shall need -a champion." She closed the discussion by rising.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evans did not tarry long. He was too badly scattered. -The other guests soon followed, except Elise, -who remained overnight at Lola's insistence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come right up to my room and tell me all about -it.... What </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> you do to that miserable man? -You ought to be spanked, Elise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did nothing to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why didn't you? I said to Ollie when you -sat down on the stairs, 'Now she's going to be good -to him.' Did you tell him you knew?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did he say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He—apologized," said Elise with a nervous laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Apologized</em><span>! For mercy's sake!—and what else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I accepted his apology—on condition he would -not do it again;" and she broke out into real mirth -at sight of Lola's scandalized face.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xvi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>If </span><em class="italics">The Mail's</em><span> editorial was conservative, other -papers were not so respectful. It was worse even -than Mrs. Phillips had predicted. All over the South -the papers ran the whole gamut of indignation and -abuse from lofty scorn all the way down to plain -editorial fits. The entire Southern press, Democratic, -Republican, and Independent, except a few sheets -edited by negroes, were of one mind on the subject of -negroes dining with white men. Papers that had -supported Mr. Phillips heartily were all severe, some of -them bitter, in their denunciations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Wordyfellow element in the school-fund fight -welcomed the President's act as a boon from heaven. -They raised a howl that was heard in every nook and -corner of the Southland, and that by the very -thundering shock of its roar broke through and drove back -the forces of the negro's friends. The weak-willed -were borne down and the timid and the doubting were -carried away by the purely physical force of noise or -by having lashed to fury their sometimes latent but -ever-present terror of the Black Peril. And not only -the weak, indeed, and the timid and the doubting went -in crowds to the Wordyfellow camp, but strong men, -fearless men, men of the most philanthropic impulses -toward the negro race, men who had fought openly -and ably the Wordyfellow propaganda, became silent -and began to waver, or deserted the negro's cause -and unhesitatingly espoused the other side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In vain did the negro's staunchest friends proclaim -their indignation at the President's lunching with -Bishop Martin and Doctor Woods, and try to convince -their people that the South should be true to -its own interests and do simple justice to the negro -despite any act of his fool friends. It was useless. -The Southern people—the floating vote, the balance -of power—were in no mood to draw fine distinctions, -nor to listen to theories in face of facts. A -careless hand had struck the wavering balance, and -the beam went steadily down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reports of defections began to come rapidly to -Mr. Phillips. Those from the negroes in the South told -of the losses faithfully, but gave any other than the -true reason for the change of sentiment; while letters -from his white advisers told him more or less plainly -that his negro luncheon had done the damage and -that the cause was as good as lost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These reports roused the President's fighting blood. -He sent for Mackenzie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Read that stack of letters, Mac, and you will see -that the negroes in the South are in a fair way to be -trampled to death. Now I must head this thing off, -and I want your help. I am determined to defeat that -Wordyfellow movement if there is power in the -Federal government. I'll not be content to have the laws -annulled by the Federal Supreme Court after they -are passed, even if that can be done. We must find -some way to win this fight </span><em class="italics">in the elections</em><span> and thus -give the lie to these prophecies that that luncheon has -lost the battle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he and the astute Mackenzie rubbed their heads -together for a week: and finally came to a remedy -so simple that they were ashamed not to have thought -of it at once. Simple indeed—if they could apply it. -In less than another week, Mr. Hare, the -recognized administration mouthpiece in the House, -introduced a bill appropriating moneys from the national -treasury to the States in proportion to population for -purposes of public education. The milk in this -legislative cocoanut was a provision that the money -apportioned to each State should be so distributed among -the individual public schools of the State that, when -taken together with the State's own appropriation, all -the schools in the State should be open for terms of -equal length.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From statistics carefully compiled in the office of -the Commissioner of Education Mr. Phillips and -Mr. Mackenzie had calculated the amount of the -appropriation so that if the Southern States adopted the -Wordyfellow plan the negro race would get virtually -the whole of the appropriation from the national -government.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise Phillips, persuading herself that she was on -the lookout for reasons to despise Mr. Rutledge, -regularly read the editorial column of </span><em class="italics">The Mail</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There one morning she learned that "the immediate -effect of the introduction of the Hare Bill in the -House has been to transfer the fight from the South -to Washington. True, the Wordyfellow speakers and -press have raised a more ear-splitting howl, and -opened up with every gun of argument, appeal, abuse, -expletive and rant; but they see clearly that this bill -if passed will bring all their schemes to naught, and -that the issue has been taken out of their hands. It -is tantalizingly uncertain to them whether the bill will -become a law; for there are many incidental -questions and considerations which complicate the issue -here at Washington. But all men know that when -Mr. Phillips sets his head for anything he will move -heaven and earth to attain it. Few doubt his power -to whip many Representatives and Senators into line -or his readiness to wield the whip if the fate of any -pet measure demands it. There is much of the Jesuit -in Mr. Phillips' philosophy of life and action. When -he believes a thing is right he believes that no -squeamish notion should prevent his bringing it to pass. -Keep your eyes on him! It is always interesting to -see how he does it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pity he is not a Senator!" Elise commented with -scornful impatience as she threw the paper down, -"that papa might whip him into becoming modesty!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At the moment Elise was so delivering her mind, -a telegraph boy was handing Rutledge a message. -He tore it open and read:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"COLUMBIA, S.C, Jan. 9th, 191-.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils noindent-white-space-pre-line"> -<dt><span>"EVANS RUTLEDGE,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last pfirst"><span>"Washington, D.C.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Exactly how old are you and where do you vote?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"W. D. ROBERTSON."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Evans looked around behind the telegraph-sheet as -if seeking an explanation. He gazed quizzically at -the messenger-boy, but that young gentleman only -grinned and then looked solemn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," Evans muttered, "what the devil's up -Robbie's back now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat down and thought the thing over awhile. -Then he constructed a reply.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"WASHINGTON, Jan. 9th, 191-.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"W. D. ROBERTSON, Atty.-General,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"Columbia, S.C.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Your telegram received. If it is official I decline -to answer. </span><em class="italics">Entre nous</em><span> I will be thirty-one on the -29th of February at something like twenty minutes -past three in the morning—they didn't have a -stopwatch in the house. I vote in Cherokee County, -Pacolet precinct, generally of late in a cigar-box in the -shed-room of Jake Sims's store where Gus Herndon -used to run a barber-shop when you and I were -young, Maggie. Why? EVANS RUTLEDGE."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Send that </span><em class="italics">collect</em><span>, youngster. We'll make old -Robbie pay for his impertinence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, sonny," he called to the boy who had -gotten out the door, "bring any answer to that down -to the Capitol. I am going to have a look at the -Senate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was sitting beside Lola DeVale in the members' -gallery when the answer came.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"COLUMBIA, S.C, Jan. 9th, 191-.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils noindent-white-space-pre-line"> -<dt><span>HON. EVANS RUTLEDGE,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last pfirst"><span>"Washington, D.C.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Nothing much. The governor of South Carolina -simply did not feel like giving a United States -Senatorship either to a boy or to a man from another -State. He is just mailing your commission as Jones's -successor. Don't decline it before you hear the whole -story. Congratulations to you.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"W. D. ROBERTSON."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"This has 'an ancient and fish-like smell.' Read -it," Rutledge said to Lola when he had recovered -from his astonishment sufficiently to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took the telegram and while she was trying -to interpret its import Senator Killam came hurriedly -into the gallery and seized upon Rutledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I got a telegram from the governor half an hour -ago and have been trying to find you ever since," he -exclaimed. "He has appointed you—oh, you have -heard, I see. Well, come right down with me. I -want to present you to your colleagues."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evans could doubt no longer, and Lola DeVale had -grasped the meaning of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so glad to be the first to congratulate you," -she said, and he felt the sincerity of her good wishes -in her warm hand-grasp. Then Senator Killam -carried him off.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I know it came 'like a bolt from the blue' to -you," Robertson wrote to him; "but the whys and -wherefores need not mystify you. There cannot be -the slightest doubt of your ability to fill the office—full -to the brim; and the rest is easy. You know the -old man fully intended all along to contest for the -place with Jones, whose term would have expired -with the old man's term as governor. Jones's demise, -however, presented a problem to him that has driven -him to the verge of lunacy for a week. He couldn't -give himself the commission, of course. He couldn't -resign and get it, for the lieutenant-governor has been -the avowed supporter of LaRoque for the Senatorship. -He couldn't give it to LaRoque or Pressley, -for the three of them are too evenly matched.... -When he finally came to the idea of appointing some -one to fill the vacancy who was clearly not in the -running so that the primaries might settle it among -the three of them, I suggested you. He jumped at -the idea.... The old man has every reason to feel -kindly toward you both for your father's sake and for -your own excellent work's sake, and he does not doubt -your friendliness to himself.... You will have less -than six months in which to make a name for -yourself, but—perhaps—who can tell? ... I wish I -had such an opportunity. I am heartily glad you -have it."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Senator Rutledge was pitched right into the middle -of the fight on the Hare Bill—and fight it was for -him. Senator Killam essayed to take the young man -under his wing and chaperone his conduct according -to his ideas of the political proprieties, but he found -that the junior Senator had a mind of his own, and -could not be managed, overawed or bullied. This -roused Mr. Killam's ire at once. He wasn't -accustomed to it. The dead Senator Jones had never had -the effrontery to think for himself; and for this -youngster to presume to walk alone was more than -Mr. Killam could forgive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Solely because of Mr. Killam's personal attitude -and treatment of him, Rutledge wished it were over -and done with long before the finish; but he never -lost his nerve.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It seemed that the suspense would be ended quickly -when the House under pressure of the rules passed -the Hare Bill almost without debate: but when it -came before the Senate it was evident at once that -those dignitaries would take abundance of time to -consider it,—if for no other reason than to prove -to themselves they were the greatest deliberative body -on earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, with all the Senate's deliberation the very -frenzy of the Wordyfellow crowd's screams evidenced -their realization that their game was balked—and -that, too, in a manner that was maddening: for it -left them not the frenzied pleasure of fighting their -precious battle against the negro out to the end and -going down to harmless defeat in pyrotechnic glory. -No; it placed them in a dilemma where they must -humiliate themselves by a surrender before the battle, -or fight it to a barren victory at the polls, which would -not only bring actual benefit to the negro in the South -but also give to the Northern States the lion's share -of a large appropriation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Facing this dilemma, they lost heart if they lost -nothing of noise. In all of the interested States -except Mississippi serious discussion of the question -grew less and less rapidly, and was postponed until -after the Senate should vote. In Mississippi, -however, the tension was increased by the Senate's -deliberation because the date set for the election on the -proposed Wordyfellow amendment to the State -constitution was some time before the Senate would be -forced to vote. The Mississippians could not decide -for their lives whether they preferred to vote on their -amendment first or have the Senate vote first on the -bill. With a faint hope that the bill might not pass, -they were in obvious difficulties in either case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Southern Senators were overwhelmed with all -manner of conflicting and confusing petitions, and as a -result about one half of them favoured the bill for -one reason or another, while the other half more or -less bitterly opposed it. The discussion, when the bill -finally came out of committee, took the widest -range,—from the constitutional objections raised by the -Texas Senator (whose State, having a large school-fund -income, did not need the appropriation) and the -savage attacks upon the negro race generally by -Senator Killam, to the purely pro-educational reasoning -of most of the supporting Senators from the -South—among whom was Senator Ruffin—and the -pro-negro speech of the young Senator Rutledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The adjective </span><em class="italics">pro-negro</em><span> may give an erroneous -impression of Senator Rutledge's ideas. The term is -the Senator's own. From his speech in full in the -</span><em class="italics">Congressional Record</em><span> the reader may determine for -himself whether the term is apt.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xvii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Senator Rutledge gave notice that on February -23d he would address the Senate on the Hare Bill. -On that day the galleries were crowded to hear him, -his State's delegation in the House was present in a -body, accompanied by many other representatives from -North and South. No one knew how he would vote, -for he had listened much and talked little. He said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. President: There have been many terms -used on this floor and in the public prints since this -bill was introduced, by which to distinguish and -define and lay open to public view the motives which are -supposed to lie behind the votes that will be cast for -and against it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have heard 'unconstitutional,' 'anti-negro,' -'pro-educational,' 'watch-dog of the treasury,' and -others equally descriptive if less parliamentary. I -have not heard 'pro-negro.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So, to save my friends—and enemies, if I have -any—the trouble of search and imaginings, I adopt -that term, '</span><em class="italics">pro-negro</em><span>,' as descriptive of my attitude -toward the matters affected by this bill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is an open secret, Mr. President, that this -measure, which bears the non-committal title of 'an act -to promote education' is a White House production -designed and introduced for the single purpose of -defeating what is known as the Wordyfellow -school-fund movement in the South generally, more -specifically now in the State of Mississippi. Because I -think it will accomplish that purpose, both general -and special,—because I am 'for the negro,'—for -him on his own account,—for his elevation as a race -to the highest level which his essential nature in the -purposes of God will permit him to attain,—because -I believe the success of the Wordyfellow movement -would mean his degradation, his hopeless continuance -in his present low estate,—because, in a word, -I am </span><em class="italics">pro-negro</em><span>; I shall vote for this bill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should despise myself, sir, if I had within me -other sentiments toward any man or race of men, -and I feel, therefore, that it is not unbecoming in me -to arrogate to myself the pure unselfishness of this -motive. And yet, sir, if the love of one's race may -be called a selfish passion, I must confess that right -alongside of this unselfish desire for the negro's -welfare, there lies in my heart a selfish passion for the -progress, the multiplying prosperity and more -abounding happiness of my own people, the white men and -women of the South, which desire also with no less -power but indeed with compelling forcefulness bids -me to oppose the Wordyfellow idea with every faculty -and expedient, and therefore to vote for this measure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish to make it clear at the outset that, while -I shall heartily support this White House bill, I give -not the slightest credit to the President for having -prepared it and sent it here. He deserves none. The -bill is a necessity, and as such I vote for it: but the -President is the one man who has made it a necessity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he had not injected into the situation his negro -luncheon (and to that I will pay my respects before -I have finished), my people would have defeated the -Wordyfellow movement; for the battle was going -our way. It is as little as President Phillips can do -now to suggest this method, expensive though it is, -to repair the damage he has done the negro's cause -in the South. He comes praying us to pay the negro -out of the difficulty in which he has involved him, -and </span><em class="italics">as friends of the negro</em><span> there is nothing for us to -do but furnish the money, however much we may -deplore the Executive folly that makes the outlay -imperative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Mr. President, let us inquire directly into -the merits of the Wordyfellow plan. The proposed -amendment to the constitution of Mississippi provides -that the school fund shall be divided between the white -and negro schools in proportion to the taxes paid to -the State by each of the two races for school purposes. -As there are six negroes to four whites in the -State, and as the negroes pay less than ten per cent -of the school taxes, such a division of the school fund -will give the white children thirteen days' schooling -to the negro's one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Such a proposition is illogical, pernicious, insane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at the logic of it. Governor Wordyfellow -defends the general proposition by some scattering -statistics which prove to his mind that education -generally is not good for the negro; but he justifies the -division of the school fund on the basis of contribution -upon the supposed principle that the negro will -get back all that he pays in and therefore cannot -rightly demand more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That so-called principle will not hold water a -moment. I would say to the gentlemen from the -South, Mr. President,—to those who are supporting -the Wordyfellow propaganda—that if they proceed -on that theory they must give to </span><em class="italics">every</em><span> man what he -pays into the treasury: which means that the State -must expend more for the tuition of the sons of the -rich than the sons of the poor. If every man has a -right to demand for his own children the taxes he -pays for school purposes, then the State has no right -to tax one man to educate another's child—and the -promoters of this idea have pulled down the whole -public school system about their ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If such a division is proposed on the ground that -no sort of education is good for the negro, and we -believe that, then let us take away from the negro -by constitutional amendment </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> the money collected -from him by the State for school purposes and give -it to the white children. That would be logical, that -would be sensible, that would be Scriptural. Let us -be logical and sensible and fearless about this matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I cannot think these leaders of the Wordyfellow -forces believe that, Mr. President, though I -fear that they have persuaded thousands of their less -intelligent following to believe it thoroughly. No, you -do not believe it; but you do believe that some -particular kinds of education—literary education, for -example—is positively harmful to the negro, while -some other particular sort—industrial education, -perhaps—is beneficial and would uplift the negro race.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you admit that,—and it has been conceded -on this floor by some of the leaders of the Wordyfellow -movement that industrial education is good for -the negro and will make a better man and a better -citizen of him; then in face of the appalling menace -of his ignorance and depravity which have been -painted in such lurid colours here, </span><em class="italics">let us by -constitutional amendment give him more than his per capita -share of the school tax</em><span>. Yes, let us give to him -proportionately in keeping with our keenest fears, our -wildest terror, of the Black Peril—all if need be—to -educate him </span><em class="italics">in that particular line that will uplift -him</em><span> and make a safe citizen of him, in order that we -may save ourselves alive and escape the woes of that -peril. All education administered by the State is -given in the exercise of a sort of quasi police power—to -protect itself from the violence of ignorance: -and we would be well within an ancient principle if -we should lay out extraordinary funds to police the -black cesspools that threaten our civic life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is clearly demonstrable, therefore, that upon -any theory of the negro's inability or limited ability -to be benefited by education, or upon the assumption -of its positive hurtfulness to him, the Wordyfellow -amendment is absolutely illogical. The whole -Wordyfellow proposition is based upon a false assumption -in the first place, and the Wordyfellow remedy does -not have the merit of being true even to the fictitious -Wordyfellow premises. For all this agitation against -the education of the negro race proceeds upon the -theory that the negro is not altogether a man, that -he is without the one aptitude common to all other -peoples, white, yellow or red—the disposition to be -uplifted in civilization by the spread of a higher -intelligence among his race.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That theory, Mr. President, is false! And while -I believe the great majority of my people reject it -despite the insistence with which it has been in small -measure openly, in large measure indirectly, presented -to them for acceptance, I have thought it worth while -to inquire closely and specifically into the effect of the -</span><em class="italics">higher literary</em><span> education upon the black men and -women who have been so fortunate as to acquire it. -I give to the Senators not only as the result of my -investigation but as the result of my personal -observation as a man brought up in the South, my sincere -opinion that education of the negro in the usual -literary studies from the kindergarten to the college, -as well as along industrial lines, is as a rule beneficial -and uplifting to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is true that a smattering of education in some -instances gives a negro the idea that he is to get a -living without work, and that such notions would not -be wholesome if prevailing among a population which -must do manual labour. This need not alarm us, -however; for it is not an unusual thing for a college -education to give a white boy the same notion. We -do not limit his education on that account. In the -post-graduate school of Hard Knocks he always finds -out—and no less surely will the negro boy of -similar delusion learn—especially as education becomes -more and more a possession of the masses and not -a privilege of the few—that the great majority of -men, whether black or white, lettered or unlettered, -must work, and work with their hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me add, lest I be misunderstood, that while -I believe the negro race as a race will be hewers of -wood and drawers of water for generations to come, -and that education will be beneficial to them as a -toiling class, I am not of those who believe that when -by education you spoil a negro field-hand you have -committed a crime. I have no sympathy with a -sentiment that would confine any man to a limited though -respectable and honourable work when he has within -him the aspiration and the ability to serve his race -and his time in broader fields.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Those, in a nutshell, Mr. President, are the -primary reasons why I am opposed to the Wordyfellow -movement, and shall vote for this bill. The secondary -reasons are hardly less forceful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want this bill passed and passed quickly in order -to avoid the pernicious incidental effects of the -agitation of this question among my people. It has bred -and is breeding antagonisms between the white and -black races in the South such as did not result from -the horrors of reconstruction or the excitement of -negro disfranchisement. In those issues the negro -truthfully was told and well may have believed that -the white man was driven to protect himself against -the ignorance and depravity of the black. In this case, -however, the negro feels, and rightly, that the white -man would condemn him perpetually to that ignorance -and depravity. From the negro's view-point the white -man's motive is now what it never was before: base, -worse than selfish, wantonly, vindictively cruel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Again the propagation of the Wordyfellow idea -teaches incidentally that in this democratic country, -where by the very nature of our institutions the -welfare of each is the welfare of all, where forsooth a -Christian civilization has reached its highest -development, even here, the strong may desert the weak and -leave them to their own pitiful devices and defences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It teaches also the doctrine—more potent for -evil—that the government may take note of racial -classes for the purpose of dealing out its favours and -benefits with uneven hands, preferring one to the -other. If it may do this when the class differences -are racial, it is but half a step to the proposition that -it may do so when the differences exist whether they -be racial or other. It takes no seer to see that after -that proposition—no, </span><em class="italics">with</em><span> that proposition—comes -the deluge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Such, Mr. President, are some, not all, of the -incidental effects of the propagation of the -Wordyfellow idea which clearly and with vast conservatism -may be called pernicious. But there is yet another -effect which will be inevitable upon the adoption of -the Wordyfellow plan, and which has been in large -measure produced already by the discussion of it, in -the light of which deliberate advocacy of the -Wordyfellow idea fairly may be called insane; and that is -the severing of all bonds of sympathy and good-will -between the races when the negro is told by white -men, 'Here, take the pitiful portion that is yours, and -go work out your own bitter, black salvation, alone—if -you can.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All this agitation, all our concern, is predicated -upon the deadly menace which this people, numbering -one-third of the population of the South and gathered -in many sections in overwhelming majorities, is to -our civic and industrial happiness and progress: and -it does seem the sheerest insanity to sever the bonds -of sympathy and helpfulness which now bind the races -together, surrender all our interest and right to -control in the method of the negro's uplifting, and leave -him to develop along any haphazard or dangerous -lines without sympathy, respect, or regard for us, our -ideas, or our ideals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The negro has been enough of a problem and a -terror to my people with all our ability to control him -through his ignorance, his fears, his affection and his -respect for us. We have been careless at times -perhaps as to how we made use of these instruments for -his management. The more fools we if we now throw -away his affection and his respect, cut loose from him -entirely, and leave him to develop under teachers of -his own race who with distorted vision or prejudiced -heart will replace his ignorance with a knowledge at -least of his brute strength, and cancel his fears with -hate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My people give freely hundreds of thousands of -dollars yearly to the degraded of other lands in whom -they have only the interest which Christians have in -universal humanity, and they place in the calendar of -the saints the names of the godly men and women -who go to work personally to uplift the heathen. I -do not think that in their cool senses their Christian -impulses, to which is added the motive of self-interest, -will permit them to cut off their contributions to and -support of any instrumentality which will elevate the -degraded in their own land whose depravity is so -pregnant with dire possibilities to them. I pray the -day to come when, among my people, it shall be -thought just as praiseworthy, as noble, as saintly for -a Southern white man to give his life and energies -to the personal instruction, uplifting and redemption -of the negroes in America as of the negroes in -Africa or the heathen in any land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That prayer, Mr. President, which is sincerely -from my heart, brings me to the discussion of President -Phillips' negro policy. I shall not expect to see -the prayer answered so long as the Chief Executive -of this nation shows a disposition to deal so -carelessly, so arbitrarily, with such cock-sure flippancy, -with the convictions, prejudices if you will, of the -brave and generous people who are face to face in -their race problem not with a far-away academic -question about which they may safely speculate and -theorize, but face to face with a present, tangible, -appalling issue in whose solution is life or death to them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To my people the consequences are so vital that -they sometimes are led perhaps beyond what is really -necessary in the way of defence,—for any sane man -prefers to be doubly guarded against death. So it -has been that while they are not favourable to the -Wordyfellow plan they have been stampeded to it -by the Phillips negro luncheon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me explain that when I speak of the President's -negro policy I do not mean to include his -appointments of negroes to office. I think we of the -South have in these matters to some extent confused -the issues, and proportionately weakened our position -before the outside public. Not that I approve of -appointing negroes to office in the South, for I do not. -I think the weight of all considerations is against it. -But the considerations either for or against it are -considerations of expediency. They are not vital. If the -President wishes to vindicate his negro appointments -on the ground that his appointees are of his party, -the best men of his party, and fairly efficient,—let -him. Such reasons have been given for political -appointments time out of mind, although they are not -conclusive in any case and especially not in the matter -of negro office-holding in the South. </span><em class="italics">But let him not</em><span> -go into cheap heroics such as were indulged in by a -recent negro appointee, who tragically exclaimed that -if his appointment was not confirmed his race would -be set back thirty years!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Such rant is only ridiculous. Office-holding is -not a recognized or an actual instrumentality for -uplifting or civilizing a people; and it is not a theory -of this or any other form of government that its -mission or method is to uplift its citizenship, white or -black, by making place-holders of them. It is not -closing any legitimate door of hope to negro or white -man to refuse him a Presidential appointment. The -'door of hope,' whatever else it may be to white or -black, is not the door to a government office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The real basis of the race issue, Mr. President, -has nothing to do with politics or political appointments, -with office-getting or office-holding. If by -some trick of chance a negro—some prodigy lofty -in character and in the science and wisdom of -statecraft—were President of this nation to-day, and -were by unanimous consent a model Executive, the -real race problem would not be affected a feather's -weight. The world must understand that the Southern -white people in the measures they have taken and -will take to protect themselves against the negro are -impelled by weightier considerations than the -pre-emption of the dignities or emoluments of politics. -It is true that they have taken the governments of the -Southern States into their own hands, away from -negro majorities in many sections. It may be true -that in order to do this they have nullified provisions -of the Federal constitution. But they have done so -from no such small motive as a desire to hold public -office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My people have all respect for the wisdom of the -makers of the constitution, who framed an instrument -perfectly suited to the conditions as they existed at -the time and continued to exist for eighty years, -prescribing the method of majority rule for a people who -were of an approximately equal civic intelligence and -virtue. But when the conditions were changed and -a vast horde of illiterate and—in the hands of -unscrupulous leaders—vicious voters were added to the -electorate, stern necessity forbade them longer to give -a sentimental support to so-called fundamental -principles in the constitution and permit ignorance to rule -intelligence and vice to rule virtue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The 'fundamental principles' in that constitution, -Mr. President, are nothing more or less than -wisely conceived </span><em class="italics">policies</em><span> which were tried, proved, -and found good under the conditions for which they -were devised. The 'fundamental principle' upon -which the race problem of the South may be solved -will have been discovered with certainty only </span><em class="italics">after</em><span> -a solution has been accomplished by the conscientious -effort and best thought of Southern white men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And they will solve this problem. It can never -be settled, of course, till Southern white men acquiesce -in its settlement. They will settle it in righteousness -and will accept with gratefulness any suggestion -which their fellow countrymen have to offer in a spirit -of sympathy and helpfulness. But it may as well be -understood that any such exhibition as the President's -negro luncheon, which affronts the universal sentiment -of the final arbiters of this question, must -necessarily put further away the day of settlement. The -negro problem cannot be worked out by any simple -little rule o' thumb, and the negro will always be the -loser by any such melodramatic display of -super-assertive backbone and misinformed conscience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The President would settle this matter upon a -purely theoretical academic basis, this matter that in -its practical effects will not touch him nor his family -nor his section, but will affect vitally the happiness, -the lives, the destiny of a chivalrous people whose -ideas, traditions, sentiments and convictions he -carelessly ignores or impetuously insults. Such -exhibitions do not become a brave man. They betoken, -rather, a headstrong man, an inconsiderate man, a -thoughtless man, a fanatical man. It does seem that -President Phillips would have learned wisdom from -the experience of his illustrious predecessor, President -Roosevelt, who did somewhat less of this sort of -thing once—and only once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. President, it has been repeatedly said that -the hostility of the white people of the South to social -intermingling with the negro race is an instinct—a -race instinct. I do not so consider it,—and for two -reasons: first, because many men of Anglo-Saxon -blood—and of these President Phillips is the most -conspicuous example—do not have such an instinct; -second, because instinct is not the result of reason, -while the Southern white man's opposition to social -recognition of the negro is defensible by the purest, -most dispassionate reason. These convictions are so -well fixed in the Southern mind that they may appear -to be instinctive and measurably serve the purpose of -instinct; but the vital objections of my people to -intermingling socially with the negro are not founded -in any race antipathy, whim, pretence, or prejudice. -They are grounded in the clearest common sense, and -as such only do I care to present or defend them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In face of the disaster to be averted, I could wish -that it were an instinct; for instinct does not fail in -a crisis. But men are more than beasts: the power -to rise is given to them conditioned upon the chance -to fall. So in this race matter: instinct does not -forbid a white man to marry a black woman; -instinct—more's the horror!—does not forbid a white -woman to wed a negro man. For this reason it is—for -the very lack of a race instinct is it—that -the social intermingling of the white and black races, -as advocated and practised by President Phillips, -would inevitably bring to pass an amalgamation of -the races with all its foul brood of evils.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"President Phillips, living in a section of the -country where negroes are few—especially such as are -of sufficient intelligence to be interesting to a man of -his attainments—does not dream of amalgamation. -I would not insult him by assuming such a thing. -And yet upon a superficial estimate of conditions in -the South he gives us this impulsive exhibition of -what in one of his high official position is criminal -carelessness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The positive element of crime in it is not in the -affront which a Presidential negro luncheon puts upon -Southern sentiment, but in the suggestion to Southern -and Northern people alike that a social intermingling -of the races—which means amalgamation, however -blind he may be to the fact—is the solution of the -race problem. The crime would be complete in all -its horror if the South, if the nation, should follow -his lead and achieve the logical result of his teaching.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From long and intimate acquaintance with the -negro's character, my people know that the Phillips -negro luncheon stimulates not the negro's ambition -and endeavour to improve himself as it tickles and -arouses his vanity. When the ordinary darkey hears -of it he thinks it not a recognition of the superior -abilities of Bishop Martin and Doctor Woods, but a -social recognition of the negro race; and forthwith -deems himself the equal of the white man and desires -unutterable things. And not without reason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The black people appreciate what the President's -act means for them. They do not misinterpret its -tendency. A prominent negro said in a recent mass -meeting in Richmond: 'No two peoples having the -same religion and speaking the same tongue, living -together, have ever been kept apart. This is well -known and is one of the reasons why the dominant -race is crushing out the strength of the negro in the -South. I am afraid we are anarchistic and I give -warning that if this oppression in the South continues -the negro must resort to the torch and the sword, and -that the Southland will become a land of blood and -desolation.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This inflammatory utterance indicates the -interpretation put by negroes upon President Phillips' -open-dining-room-door policy, and the nature of the -hopes and aspirations it arouses in the black man's -heart. And the serious thing is the element of truth -in the negro's erroneous statement. It is true as -gospel that no two races of people, living together, -have ever </span><em class="italics">intermingled socially</em><span> without amalgamating. -It is hardly necessary to cite evidence of that -fact or to give the reasons underlying it. It might -be taken as axiomatic that social intermingling means -amalgamation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If men and women were attracted to each other -and loved and mated because of equal endowments -of virtue, or intelligence, or beauty, or upon any basis -of similar accomplishments, tastes, or mental, moral -or physical excellences, then a gulf-stream of -Anglo-Saxon blood might flow unmixed and pure through a -sea of social contact with the negro race; but until -love and marriage are placed among the exact -sciences, social intermingling of races will ever result -as it ever has resulted: in the general admixture of -racial bloods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When racial barriers are broken down and it is -proper for negroes and whites to associate freely and -intimately, when you—white men—receive negroes -on a plane of social equality, your women will marry -them, your sons will take them to wife. Shall you -say to your daughter of the negro whom you receive -in your home: 'He is an excellent man but—do -not marry him'? Shall you say to your son -enamoured of a quadroon: 'She is a very worthy young -woman and an ornament to our circle of friends, -but—I have chosen another wife for you'? When did -such considerations ever guide or curb the fancy of -the youthful heart or diminish the travel to Gretna -Green? No, the line never has been drawn between -free social intercourse and intermarriage; and while -the Southern people believe they could draw that line -if any people could, they do not propose to make any -reckless experiments where all is to be lost and -nothing gained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A president of one of our great universities is -quoted as saying: 'The Southern white sees a race -danger in eating at the same table with a negro; he -sees in being the host or the guest of a negro an act -of race infidelity. The Northern white sees nothing -of the kind. The race danger does not enter into his -thoughts at all. To be the host or the guest of a -negro, a Mexican or a Japanese would be for him -simply a matter of present pleasure, convenience or -courtesy. It would never occur to him that such an -act could possibly harm his own race. His pride of -race does not permit him to entertain such an idea. -This is a significant difference between Northern -white and Southern white.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In noting significant differences between -Northern white and Southern white this authority must -have been advertent to the fact that the pride of race -of his 'Northern white' does not prevent them from -furnishing the overwhelming majority of interracial -marriages with negroes, as well as with Chinese, -Japanese and every other alien race—this, too, with a -very small negro population. If the negroes were -proportionately as numerous in the North as in the -South and such sentiments prevailed, how long, with -interracial marriages increased in numbers in -proportion to opportunity, would there be an Anglo-Saxon -'Northern white' to have a pride of race? If with -these facts before his eyes the distinguished educator -sees no race danger in the social mingling of white -and black people, it easily may be inferred that he -sees no objection to amalgamation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Southern white man does see a race danger -in these social amenities, Mr. President; for he -cannot view amalgamation or the faintest prospect of -it with any sentiment save horror: and he fortifies -himself against that danger not only with the peculiar -pride of race—of which he has a comfortable -supply—but with every expedient suggested by his common -sense, his experience, and by the horrible example -which that distinguished educator's 'Northern white' -has furnished him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In providing against this danger my people are -moved from without by the sight of no occasional -negro such as at odd times crosses this New -Englander's vision, nor from within by any unreasonable -or jealous hatred of the negro such as has characterized -certain 'Northern whites' from the time they -burned negro orphan asylums in resentment at being -drafted to fight their country's battles down to this -good day when they mob a negro for trying to do an -honest day's work. No! the Southern white man is -driven to his defences by a sentiment void of offence -toward the negro, and by the daily impending -spectacle of black, half-barbarous hosts who menace the -Anglo-Saxon civilization of the South and of the -nation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"President Phillips has modestly borrowed from -one of his predecessors words with which to defend -his social amenities to negroes. He quotes and says -he would 'bow his head in shame' were he 'by word -or deed to add anything to the misery of the awful -isolation of the negroes who have risen above their -race.' Two things may be said of that, Mr. President: -first, isolation has been the price of leadership -in all ages, and the negroes who are the pioneers of -their race in their long and painful journey upward -may not hope to escape it: second, the President's -borrowed sentimental reason cuts the ground from -under his feet, for that forcible Rooseveltian phrase, -'the misery of the awful isolation of black men who -have risen above their race,' concedes the premises on -which the South's contention is based, since it admits -there is such a great gulf between the negro </span><em class="italics">race</em><span> and -the </span><em class="italics">risen</em><span> negro that his isolation fitly may be described -in the words 'misery,' 'awful.' It is a peculiar order -of Executive intellect and sensibility that can have -such a keen sense of the misery which association -with the lowly of his own race brings to an educated -negro—who cannot in the very nature of things have -put off all his hereditary deficiencies and tastes in a -generation; and that yet seems not to be touched with -any sense of the unspeakable misery such association -and its inevitable consequences would have for my -people—his Anglo-Saxon brethren—who, if there -be any virtue in the refining processes of civilization, -any redemptive power in the Christian religion, any -progression in the purposes of God in the earth, are -a thousand years ahead of the negro—any negro—in -every racial excellence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but, you say, President Phillips means for -us to associate only with those who are worthy, those -who have 'risen.' Even that would be fatal, -Mr. President. Beyond the truth already stated that -considerations of merit will be forgotten and brushed -aside if the social racial barrier is broken down at any -point, and that social intermingling inevitably leads -to intermarriage, there is a greater fact, a deeper -truth, underlying this question. That fact, that truth, -is that in estimating the result of mixing racial bloods -not the man only and his personal accomplishments -or individual culture must be considered, but his -heredity, his race peculiarities and proclivities, every -element that has gone into his blood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An occasional isolated negro may have broken -the shackles of ignorance, measurably and admirably -brought under control the half-savage passions of his -nature, acquired palpable elegances of person and -manner, and taken on largely the indefinable graces -of culture: yet beneath all this creditable but thin -veneer of civilization there slumber in his blood the -primitive passions and propensities of his immediate -ancestors, which are transmitted through him as latent -forces of evil to burst out in his children and -grandchildren in answer to the call of the wild. A man is -not made in one generation or two. Every man gets -the few ruling passions of his life from the -numberless endowments of a hundred progenitors, and these -few show out, while scores of others run so deep in -his blood that they never crop out in his deeds but -pass quietly on as static forces of good or evil to his -children and their children before rising to the surface -as dynamics in life and character.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A Northern gentlewoman in a recent magazine -article, defending her willingness to offer social -courtesies to a prominent negro, speaks of him as one 'of -whom an exquisite woman once said he has the soul -of a Christian, the heart of a gentleman, and the eyes -of the jungle.' That illustrates the idea perfectly, -Mr. President,—</span><em class="italics">the eyes of the jungle</em><span>. Despite the -fact that it is easier to breed up physical than -temperamental qualities in man or beast, easier to breed -out physical than mental or moral or spiritual -blood-traits, this negro, with all his culture, with a large -mixture of white blood in his veins, has yet in his -very face that sinister mark—the eyes of the jungle: -and in his blood who shall say what jungle passions, -predilections and impulses, nobly and hardly held in -check, that hark back to the African wilds from which -they are so lately transplanted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A negro—any primitive being—may be developed -mentally in one or two generations to the point -where a certain polish has been put upon his mind -and upon his manners; his purposes may be gathered -and set toward the goal of final good; the whole -trend of his life may be set upward: but there is yet -between his new purposes and the savagery of the -primitive man in him a far thinner bulwark of heredity -than protects a white man from the elemental brute -and animal forces of his nature. A number of -educated negroes in this country to-day are superior in -culture of mind and in personal morals to many white -men, but even these individual shining lights of the -negro race do not possess the power to endow their -offspring so favourably as white men of less polish -but longer seasoned hereditary strength of mental and -moral fibre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It always offends a proper sense of decency to -hear the suggestion that the negro may be bred up -by crossing his blood with that of white men,—for -the obvious reason that with our ideas of morals the -most common principles of the breeder's art cannot -be applied to the problem: but one single fact which -eliminates such cold-blooded animal methods from -our consideration is that when animals are cross-bred -it is in the hope and for the purpose of combining -mutually supplementary elements of strength and of -eliminating supplementary weaknesses; while in this -race matter the Anglo-Saxon is the superior of the -negro in every racial characteristic—in physical -strength and grace, in mental gifts and forces, and -in spiritual excellence. Even if amalgamation did the -very best that could be expected of it, it offers to the -world nothing and to the white man less than -nothing: for it would be a compromise, a striking of an -average, by which naught is added to the total: it -would pull down the strong to upraise the weak, -degrade the superior to uplift the inferior: it would be -a levelling process, not a method of progress. </span><em class="italics">And -yet amalgamation does not even that much</em><span>, for it -does not make an average-thick, even-thick retaining -wall of culture between the hybrid product and the -weaknesses of his mottled ancestry. There are -always blow-holes in this mongrel culture, for heredity -does not work by averages. It is an elusive combination -of forces whose eccentricities and resultants cannot -be formulated, calculated, or fore-determined. It -is certain only that by no mere manipulation of it -can the slightest </span><em class="italics">addition</em><span> be made to the stock of -ancestral virtues. Only slow processes working in each -individual through generation after generation can -add increments of strength to racial fibre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Therefore, if the negro will insist upon some </span><em class="italics">race -manipulation</em><span> in order to raise the average of intelligence, -thrift and morality in our national citizenship, -the only safe and sane method is to take measures to -restrict the increase of the negro race and let it die -out like the Indian. But, you scream, that would be -to suggest the annihilation of a race God has put here -for some wise purpose! Even so: but amalgamation -would no less surely annihilate </span><em class="italics">the race</em><span>—two -races—and fly in the face of a Providence that has -segregated all races with no less distinctness of purpose, -and so far has visited with disaster all attempts to -violate that segregation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Mr. President, what is the immediate past -history, status and condition in Africa and America -of this race with which Southern white men are asked -to mingle socially? What are the racial endowments -of these </span><em class="italics">risen</em><span> negroes whom we are urged by lofty -example to invite into our drawing-rooms upon terms -of broadest equality—for upon other terms would -be a mockery—as eligible associates, companions, -suitors, husbands for our sisters and daughters?—for -a sensible father or brother does not admit white -men to his home on any other basis. Of what essential -racial elements and sources is the negro, risen and -unrisen alike?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let answer the scientists and explorers, missionaries -and travellers,—a long list of them, English, -French, German, stretching all the way back a -hundred years before there was a negro problem in the -South. I quote verbatim, as nearly as the form will -permit, their very words and phrases. Listen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The negro in Africa was, and is yet, in largest -measure 'Without law except in its very crudest -form'—'no law at all as we conceive it'—'in -densest savage ignorance'—'no writing, no literature, -no arts, no sciences'—'some development of -perceptive and imitative faculties and of memory, but -little of the higher faculties of abstract reasoning'—'in -temperament intensely emotional, fitful, passionate, -cruel'—'without self-control in emotional crises, -callously indifferent to suffering in others, easily -aroused to ferocity by sight of blood or under great -fear'—'particularly deficient in strength of will, -stability of purpose and staying power'—'dominated -by impulse, void of foresight, unable to realize the -future or restrain present desire'—'indolent, lazy, -improvident, neglectful, happy-go-lucky, innately -averse to labour or to care'—'given to uncleanness'—'an -eater of snakes and snails, cannibal, eating his -own dead'—'vilely superstitious, a maker of human -sacrifices, charm-wearing, fetich-worshipping'—'of -a religion grossly anthropomorphic, explaining all -natural phenomena by a reference to evil spirits'—'his -religion has no connection with morality, nothing -to do with man's relation to man'—'thieving his -beloved pastime, deception more common than -theft'—'national character strongly marked by -duplicity'—'lying habitually and thinking lying an enviable -accomplishment'—'a more thorough and unhesitating -liar than one of these negroes is not to be found -anywhere'—'cruelly obliges his women to work'—'sensual, -polygamous, unchaste'—'buying and -selling his women'—'valuing his daughter's virginity -solely as a marketable commodity'—'accounting -adultery simply as a trespass upon a husband's -property rights, and seduction and rape as a violence only -to parent's property in daughters as destroying their -marketable value'—'wifehood is but an enslavement -to the husband's will'—'no conception of chastity -as a virtue'—'of strong sexual passions'—'a -devoted worshipper at the shrine of his phallic -gods'—'sexual instincts dominate even the most public -festivals, and public dances exhibit all degrees of sex -suggestion.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Those in short, Mr. President, are some of the -horrible details of the bestial degradation of the -west-coast Africans, from whom our slave-marts were -recruited almost to the time of the Civil War, and who, -says Keane, are 'the very worst sweepings of the -Sudanese plateau,' and, Ellis says, are 'the dregs and -offscourings of Africa.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Such was the negro in Africa. What he is in -America, only my people know. He has been the -gainer at all points, the loser at none, because of his -enforced residence here and his bondage to Southern -white men: and yet that awful picture of the negro -in Africa is so startlingly familiar to one who has -spent his life in the South that he examines it closely -with something of fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He finds the colouring too vividly heavy and some -details untrue for a picture of the negro in America -to-day: but the negro as the Southern white man -knows him is too alarmingly alike, too closely akin to, -that African progenitor. He has advanced—yes! but -just how much, and </span><em class="italics">just how little</em><span>, from out the -shadow of that awful category of horrors, my people -know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They know that he has but just emerged from -those depths that those bestial racial traits held in -check by the man's law have only well begun -to be refined by a change of environment and the slow -processes of heredity: and yet we, white men of the -South, are in a way advised to treat as our social -equals certain immediate heirs to such a blood -inheritance because, forsooth, they have </span><em class="italics">risen</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We resent bitterly the insulting suggestion, -however high or respectable or official its source: and we -call upon you, white men of the North, to warn you -against appeals for social recognition as a balm for -'the misery of the awful isolation of black men who -have risen above their race.' When the blood of your -daughter or your son is mixed with that of one of this -race, however </span><em class="italics">risen</em><span>, redolent of newly applied polish -or bewrapped with a fresh culture, how shall sickly -sentimentalities solace your shame if in the blood of -your mulatto grandchild the vigorous red jungle -corpuscles of some savage ancestor shall overmatch your -more gentle endowment, and under your name and -in a face and form perhaps where a world may see -your very image in darker hue there shall be disported -primitive appetites, propensities, passions fit only to -endow an Ashanti warrior or grace the orgies of an -African bacchanalia? In Heaven's name think to the -bottom of this question!—and think </span><em class="italics">now</em><span>! Await -not the day '</span><em class="italics">when your fear cometh</em><span> as desolation, -</span><em class="italics">and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when -distress and anguish cometh upon you</em><span>.' Do not be -distracted by considerations that are superficial and -incidental—such for example as the negro's record -for criminal assaults upon women. The crime of rape -will be abated by some means, but long after that must -the negro develop before he loses his primal jungle -habit of regarding woman as a personal possession. It -is a matter of attitude and not of assault: and as in -his fundamental attitude toward women, so in every -racial characteristic the superiority of the white man -is blood deep, generations old, ingrained, inherent, -essential.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Knowing this, my people despise President -Phillips' social amenities to negroes of high degree. -They do not fear the issue; but what insults and -outrages them is that a personage in the highest official -position, by an act in itself impulsive, empty, and -futile, should put desires and hopes of miscegenation -into the minds and hearts of the inflammable, -muttering, passionate black masses of the South. Standing -themselves ever in the shadow of dire calamity which -they are facing and must face for long years to come -as they painfully work out a righteous and practical -solution of their problem, my people cry out to you, -oh, white men of the North, of the insidious danger in -these sentimental social practices of an exuberant -Executive; and we tell you that, however well or ill you -may guard the purity and integrity of your race, we -will stand fast. Whatever else may or may not be -true, we will never acknowledge any equality on the -negro's side that does not </span><em class="italics">overtake</em><span> the white race in -its advancing civilization, and we will certainly not -submit to an equality produced by degrading the white -race to or toward the negro's level. We will not make -with the negro a common treasure of our Anglo-Saxon -blood by putting it in hotch-pot with his in a -mongrel breed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Anglo-Saxon has blazed the way of civilization -for a world to follow in: but if he, the torch-bearer, -the pioneer, goes back to join hands with the -tribes who are following afar his torch and trail, then -the progression of civilization and of character must -not only stop but must actually recede for him to effect -a juncture with the black and backward race in the -blood of a hybrid progeny. There the fine edge -would be taken off every laudable characteristic of the -white man. There the splendid Anglo-Saxon spirit of -leadership and initiative would be neutralized by the -sluggish blood of the Ethiop race. There the -Anglo-Saxon's fine energies and clear sensibilities would be -deadened and muddled by the infusion of this soporific -into his veins. There vile, unknown, ancestral -impulses, the untamed passions of a barbarous blood, -would be planted in the Anglo-Saxon's very heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may believe that in the dim beginning God -by imperial decree set the dividing line between these -races; or, less orthodox and more coldly scientific, -you may know that Nature, impartial mother of men, -giving her white and black sons equal endowment and -an even start in body, mind and spirit, since has stood, -in unerring wisdom still impartial, to watch the white -bound away from the black in his rush toward that -perfection of mind, of heart, of character, which she -has set as goal for the striving of her children. From -whichever view-point you look upon the age-long -history of men and the age-long lead of white men -over their black brothers,—whether evolutionist or -traditionist, scientist or mystic, you offer violence to -your own particular deity, be it God or Nature, when -in their present measureless inequality of development -you by amalgamation would beat back the white into -the lagging footsteps and gross animalism of the black.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Menacing thus the effectiveness and integrity of a -race which is the pathfinder for the progress of a -world of men, the danger is not only a race danger, -but a danger to universal civilization; and the -preventative is a social separation of the white and black -races in America </span><em class="italics">from the lowest to the highest</em><span>,—at -least, yes in all reason, at the dictate of the plainest -common sense, </span><em class="italics">at least</em><span>, if so be, till the black becomes -approximately equal to the white in racial excellence. -After which let the ethnologists take the question and -give us the answer of science as to the advisability of -mixing racial bloods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naturally you ask me when the time of equality -in racial excellence will come. I answer that I -commit myself unreservedly to the support of every -means used for the negro's uplifting; I admit—nay -more, I contend—that we white men cannot -be dogs in the manger with civilization; we cannot -as a Christian people even hope that the negro -race may not come </span><em class="italics">up</em><span> to our level, nor can there -be any reason why we should refuse to acknowledge -that race as our equal if it shall indeed become our -equal. And yet, while I would not in puny wisdom -presume to foretell the purposes of God in the earth, -nor to set bounds to the efficacy of his unspeakable -redemption, nor to appoint the places of white, black, -yellow, red or brown men in the pageantry of -'that far-off divine event toward which the whole -creation moves'—yet, I say, with carefully -acquired information of the negro's history and habits -in Africa, and with an intimate knowledge of his -present status and rate of progress toward civilization -in America, I tell you frankly that the day of his -approximate equality in racial excellence with the white -man is beyond the furthest reach of my vision into the -future."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xviii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Senator Killam was against the bill tooth and -nail,—and he was against Rutledge. He obtained -the floor and began to speak in a desultory but -picturesque fashion in ridicule of some of the junior -Senator's new-fangled heresies almost before -Rutledge had caught his breath, and his vitriolic opening -stayed the steps of many who in courtesy would have -gone over to Rutledge's seat to felicitate him upon -his maiden effort. Mr. Killam presented his felicitations -openly and with such a mixture of sarcasm, irony -and some seeming admiration that his colleague was -puzzled. When Mr. Killam talked his dearest enemy -would stop to listen. Rutledge, tired and blown, -leaned back in his chair to hear him thunder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he sank back into a comfortable pose he caught -sight for the first time of Lola DeVale and Elise -Phillips in the gallery. They had heard his speech -from start to finish,—and were differently affected -by it. Lola was more impressed with the Senator's -manner than by his words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Senator Rutledge verily believes all that he says -against the negroes," she had commented; "but surely -they are not so black as he paints them. Papa says -that it is impossible for a Southern man to judge the -negro fairly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise did not reply. She was filled with revulsion -amounting almost to nausea, and her temper was on -edge. As her father's daughter, the personal element -was unbearably irritating to her. She resented the -entire situation and discussion. She had not known -what was under consideration, nor who was to -speak, and she would have left the gallery if she had -not felt that it would be beating a retreat. She also -had a desire to see whether Evans had the impudence -to say what he thought right in her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her stay in the South she had seen a very -disreputable class of negroes, and under the spell of -Rutledge's words her antipathies were over-excited to -such a degree that she was faint with disgust. On the -other hand she was full of barely suppressed anger. -Rutledge smiled a salutation to the young women; -and though Elise was looking straight at him she did -not join Lola in her gracious acknowledgment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you see Mr. Rutledge, Elise? He waits -for your smile like a dog for a bone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish that man were dead," Elise declared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola raised her eyebrows and scanned the profile -of her friend for some moments, and there came into -her mind an idea that appeared to be worth some -thinking over....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If Senator Rutledge was distasteful to her, Elise -had little cause to complain of him: for seldom had -any of the scores of young fellows who followed in -her train the good fortune of a minute's talk with her -alone; and Rutledge, oppressed by the result of their -last meeting at Senator DeVale's, unsatisfied with the -empty nothings which passed for conversation in the -brief glimpses he had of her at formal gatherings, and -chilled by the coldness of her manner which had been -oh, so different in that halcyon summer when he had -lost his heart to her, was well content to stand further -and further away from her in the crowd that was -always about her, and to worship in spirit the real -Elise Phillips unfettered by convention and unaffected -by untoward incident. He took what comfort he -could from the fact that as yet no favoured one -appeared among Elise's admirers, and that among the -sons of fortune, army officers, attachés, and all that -sort who aspired to make life interesting for the -President's eldest daughter it seemed none could flatter -himself he was preferred above another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for those who exhibited the liveliest interest in -Elise, gossip gave that distinction to two. One -evening at a reception at Secretary Mackenzie's -Senator Rutledge was talking to Lola DeVale when Elise -passed, accompanied by a stalwart young fellow whom -Rutledge had never seen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is Sir Monocle?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?" asked Lola.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Phillips' escort."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh. He has no monocle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know. But he should have. He looks it. Who -is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Captain George St. Lawrence Howard, second -son of the Earl of Duddeston. He was taking a look -at America, but an introduction to Elise seems to have -persuaded him to limit his observations to Washington -City."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sensible fellow," commented Rutledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Lola, "and a very likable fellow. -He won his captaincy with Younghusband in the -Thibetan campaign before he was twenty; and the -fact that an invalid brother is all that stands between -him and the earldom doesn't make him any the less -interesting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Titles are talismanic—whether military or other. -With two, he ought to be fairly irresistible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and besides that he has plenty of money and -leisure to make love with a thorough care for detail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With all those and a manifest supremely good -taste," said Rutledge, "I would back him for a winner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are forgetting Senatorial courtesy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Senator Richland."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He also is in the running."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Richland? I hadn't heard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; and remember that his fortune is ten times -that of the Earl of Duddeston, and his brains are of -the same grade as his bank account."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge was interested. He had a thorough respect -for Richland's ability.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is nearly twice Elise's age," Lola continued, -"and Senatorial dignity will not permit a display of -violent enthusiasm. But Senator Richland has -acquired the habit of winning, and he is young enough -and abundantly able to make the game interesting -both for Elise and for any rivals. He is young indeed -for his honours, has the ear of the people, and is a -politician of rare acumen. His followers predict for -him nothing less than the Presidency itself when his -time is ripe. What more could a girl wish? Don't -lay all your salary on the Englishman—you might lose."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lola DeVale had not misread Senator Richland's -purposes. He was seriously in the running. Elise -was the first woman he had ever thought of marrying. -She seemed to him to fit perfectly into all the plans -which his ambition had made for the future. He had -met her at Mr. Phillips' inauguration, and after -thinking over her charms during the summer vacation had -come back to Washington in December fully determined -to wage a vigorous campaign for her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of the other men who were rash enough to dream -of Elise it is needless and would be tiresome to go into -detail. They were more or less interested, enamoured -or devoted: but the Senator and Captain Howard -were too fast company for them, and they are of -interest only as a numerous field which made the -running more or less difficult for the leaders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evans Rutledge willingly would have entered the -lists against Richland or the Englishman—against -anybody—if Elise had been ordinarily civil to -him; but he had been in such evident disfavour since -the Smith knock-down that he deemed himself -one of "the gallery" at this game of hearts. Elise -when indeed she had time to think of it, felt that she -had dealt with him ungenerously if not unjustly, but -that only made his presence less grateful to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The unreasonableness of Elise's attitude toward -Rutledge and Rutledge's behaviour whenever she saw -him near Elise, mildly stirred the womanly curiosity -of Lola DeVale to the point of investigation. She -found Elise averse to the slightest discussion of -Senator Rutledge or of anything connected with him. -Baffled there, she turned with more determination and -softer skill to the man. He will never know how he -came upon terms of such friendliness and sympathy -with Miss DeVale. Soon doubtless he would have -confided the story of his love to her. But events came -about differently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A score of young people were at Senator DeVale's -country-place one evening in May. Elise had met -Evans with something of her old-time friendliness and -he was in an uncertain state of happiness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now don't make an ass of yourself because the -Lady Beautiful is in a mood to be gracious," he -solemnly admonished his heart. "Sir Monocle may just -have proposed and been accepted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thought was as bracing as a cold shower and -gave him a vigorous grip on his rebellious affections. -Then he danced with her—on the wide, dimly -lighted veranda—a slow, lotus-land waltz, just -coming back in vogue after more than a decade of -galloping two-steps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took another grip on himself. He must not -think of the woman in his arms. Luckily the -old-fashioned dance was diverting: while the movement -was intoxicating it was reminiscent. He remembered -his first waltz—the Carolina hill-town—the moonlight, -the smell of the roses—the plump little girl in -the white dress, with the red, red sash, and the cheeks -as red, with the black eyes and the blacker hair, with -the indefinable sensuous physical perfume of Woman, -and the very Spirit of the Dance,—she who—yes, -she who married the station-agent and was now such -a motherly person. He began a speech that would -have been cynical. Elise stopped him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't talk," she said. "Let's dream."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tumult! Riot! What's the use to hold one's pulses -steady when the Lady Beautiful herself incites revolt!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's dream." His heart-strings were set -a-tremble by the vibrant richness of her voice, which -seemed to have caught the dreaminess and rhythm -and resonance of the violins that drew them on. -And—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't talk." No: he would not profane the -enchantment of that waltz with words; and yet surely -My Lady Beautiful were heartless indeed not to catch -the messages of love which, pure of the alloy of breath -and speech, his every pulse-beat sent unfettered to her -heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held her for a moment after the violins had -ceased, and the spell of the slow-swinging waltz was -still upon them both—when a quick jerk of the -fiddles in the ever rollicking two-step brought Sir -Monocle to Elise's side. Evans resigned her with a -bow and, without so much as a "thank you," went out -on the lawn to commune with his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How long that two-step continued, he, seated in a -retired nook, did not know. Sometime after it was -finished he saw Elise and the Englishman walk down -the winding path that led from the front door to the -roadside. They stood talking together a minute -perhaps till Captain Howard boarded a passing car -city-bound. Rutledge noted with a twinge of jealousy the -cordial good-bye the girl gave the man, but even at -that distance and through the uncertain light he -thought he saw—and, queer to say, resented—a -certain formality in Captain Howard's adieus to the -woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He watched her through the trees as she came -slowly back up the hill following the turns of the -smooth hard walk as it wound through darkness -and half lights from the broad gateway to the house. -She moved along, a white shadow, slowly at first, -and Evans imagined that she was in some such -mood as possessed him. Then she started -suddenly and ran at a stone stairway which mounted a -terrace. She tripped, stumbled and fell against the -granite steps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge was flying to her before she was fairly -prone. He spoke to her and tried to help her up. -She made no answer, and her hand and arm were limp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise!" he said, with fear in his voice. Still no -answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her in his arms and made directly up -the hill for the front door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise," he whispered fearfully again. "Oh, my -heart, speak to me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her cheek was against his shoulder. He buried -his face in her hair, as he prayerfully kissed the -snow-white part visible even in that darkness. Her head -dropped limply back, and a sigh came from her lips -so close to his. Still she answered not his call. He -loved her very much and—he kissed her again, softly, -where the long lashes lay upon her cheek, and—"Elise!" -he murmured appealingly. She turned her -face feebly away from him, like a child restless in -sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not delayed his climb to the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here!" he cried. "Get Dr. Sheldon quick! Miss -Phillips is dangerously hurt!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were excited screams among the women and -a stir among the men as he carried his burden across -the piazza and into the wide hall. There in the full -light he saw—Miss Elise Phillips talking quietly to -Donald MacLane. He almost let fall the woman in -his arms. He looked again at her face. She was -Lola DeVale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Sheldon and Lola's mother fortunately were -at hand. At their direction Rutledge carried the -young woman up the stairs and laid her on a couch in -her sitting-room. She opened her eyes and smiled -languidly at him as he put her down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise and all the other young people knew of Rutledge's -mistake as to Lola's identity, but Elise could -not understand why he blushed so furiously as he gave -her an account of the mishap.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At her next </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> with Rutledge Lola gave him -her very sincerest thanks and—laughed at him till he -was uncomfortable. Finally she said: "You are a -very gallant but a very mercenary knight, -Mr. Rutledge." Rutledge was hopelessly confused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola continued, mischief in her eyes: "Alas! the -spirit of commercialism has pervaded even Southern -Chivalry, and forlorn maidens must pay as they -go." Rutledge was plainly resentful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I am very unselfish, Mr. Rutledge, and—I -wish it </span><em class="italics">had</em><span> been Elise." Her mischief dissolved in a -confiding smile, full of sympathy,—and Rutledge -was very humble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola DeVale's sympathy was warm and irresistible, -and before he was aware he was telling her of his love -for Elise in a way to set her interest a-tingle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you tell her of it?" asked Lola. "Tell -her that it just overwhelms all earlier loves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Earlier loves? I never loved any other woman," -Rutledge answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, of course not." Lola could scarcely repress a -smile at the thought that a man always swears only -his last passion is genuine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But tell her—tell her!" she repeated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have told her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three years ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Plainly? or with artistic indirectness?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Plainly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola looked at him incredulously, but saw that he -was telling the truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sly thing!" she exclaimed under her breath. -"But tell her </span><em class="italics">again</em><span>! I declare if I were a man and -loved Elise—and I would love none else—I'd tell -her so every time I saw her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh I'll not love another—no fear of that," -Evans replied half lightly; "but as for telling her -again, self-respect will not—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Self-respect—fudge! If I loved a girl I'd tell -her so a hundred times—and marry her too—in -spite of everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps so," Evans commented skeptically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola was shooting in the dark, but her warm heart -would not let her leave the matter at rest. Both -because of her desire, being happily in love herself, to -see the love affairs of her friends go smoothly, and -because of the riddle it presented to her, she -approached Elise again in order to straighten out the -tangled skein for everybody's satisfaction. She -thought to match her wits against Elise's and -proceeded with more caution.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the way, Elise," she said, apropos of nothing -at all, "I think you were right about Senator -Rutledge's being very much in love with that young -woman you told me about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise exhibited a perfect indifference and said nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I asked him about her, after becoming duly confidential -and sympathetic, of course, and he confirmed -your statement. He still loves the girl—oh, you -ought to hear him tell of it. 'He will never love -another till he's dead, dead, dead,'—or words to that -effect: but he will not tell her—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was listening with a polite but languid -interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"—again. He thinks his self-respect forbids; but -</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> think—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he say that? To you?" Elise demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; when I asked h—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well now, once and for all, Lola, I tell you I -despise that man, and never must you mention his -name to me again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Elise, I think he—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop, Lola! I'll not hear another word!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But let me tell you, Elise. He—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! Stop </span><em class="italics">now</em><span>! Not another word if you care for -my friendship. I'll never speak to you again if you -speak of him to me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise's anger was at white heat, and she looked and -spoke like her father. Lola was frightened at her -manner, but made another brave attempt to set -matters straight, which was met by such a blaze of -personal resentment in Elise's eyes that she gave up in -abject defeat—though she did pluck up courage to -fire a parting shot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, my dear," she said, as if dismissing the -subject.... "I have something of yours I must -give you before I go. There—take it," and she -kissed the expectant Elise warmly on the lips as she -added: "Senator Rutledge gave it to me by mistake -as he carried me up the hill the other night."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xix"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lily Porter finally became conscious that she was -the special attraction for a stranger who regularly -every other Sunday evening sat in a forward pew and -listened to her singing with attentive interest, but who -showed little or no care for any of the service beside. -Several months had gone by before she noticed him -and his faithful attention to herself. When she did -realize his presence she was conscious that he had -been paying her this tribute for a long time. She -observed him quietly and satisfied herself that he came -only to see or to hear her. He did not force himself -upon her vision, but none the less did she understand -that she was the chief object of his respectful -consideration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The preacher's manner and style of thought did not -appeal to Hayward, while Lily Porter's face and voice -did. He always sat where he could look at her in the -choir-loft, for he argued that as he went only to see -her he would see as much of her as possible. His face -was mobile and easily read, and as he was good to -look upon and so evidently appreciative of her efforts -the girl came ere long to sing with an eye to his -approval and admiration—to sing for him and to him. -This interested her for a time, but she was piqued at -length for that he seemed content to admire at a -distance and made no effort to come nearer to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One evening, unexpectedly to them both, a negro -prominent among his race because of his position as -Registrar for the District, John K. Brown, with whom -Hayward had picked up a mutually agreeable though -casual acquaintance, introduced him to the singer in -the aisle of the church.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Lily, I want to introduce my friend Mr. John -Hayward, who goes into extravagances about -your singing—as he very properly should."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward was overjoyed at his good fortune. To -be presented as John Brown's friend was a passport -to the best negro society in Washington. He was as -much pleased to know that Brown regarded him so -favourably as he was delighted to meet the young -woman. As he walked with her to the door she -presented him to her mother, a bright mulatto woman -about fifty or more, who did the grand dame to the -best of her ability: which was indeed perfect as to -manner but was betrayed the moment she tried to do -too many things with the English language.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he had opportunity Hayward was profuse -in his thanks to Brown, and told him volubly of his -love for music. Finding a sympathetic listener, he -was led on to an impulsive story of the social longings -and lackings in his life. Brown, more than ever -impressed with the young fellow's intelligence and -worthiness, was at some pains thereafter to look after -him and set him going in a congenial social current.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With Brown's approval and his own gifts and -graces it was not remarkable that Hayward won his -way to social popularity as fast as his confining duties -would permit. He began to see much of Lily Porter -and was consistent in his devotion to her despite the -fact that the habit of his college days of being -attracted by each new and pretty face still measurably -clung to him. His information and accomplishments -were of a sort superior to that of any of the young -women he met, and none made a serious impression on -his heart. Lily Porter was more nearly his equal in -education and general cultivation of mind and manner, -and was really the most attractive to him; but his -harmless vanity could not forego the admiration of -the others, and he gave some little time to small -conquests. He did homage to Lily by his evident -admiration of her talents and comeliness and by his -unconcealed pleasure in her friendship. At the same -time he met her petty tyrannies and autocratic -demands with an unmoved indifference.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had become very well acquainted with Lily and -had called on her several times before Henry Porter -knew that his daughter was receiving the footman -whom he had snubbed some months before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lily, who was that young man that called on you -last night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Hayward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Umhuh, I thought he was the same fellow. -You'll have to drop him. I don't want you to be -receivin' no footman in this house. We must draw -the line somewhere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's no footman, papa. He's one of Mr. Brown's -friends. Mr. Brown introduced him to me himself. -I think he is connected with Mr. Brown's office."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No such thing. Hayward's footman at the White -House—told me so hisself 'bout a year ago, and I -saw him on the President's carriage no longer'n -yesterday. Nice lie he's told you 'bout bein' in Brown's -office."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he didn't say so, papa. I supposed so because -Mr. Brown said he was his friend and has introduced -him to all the nice people. Surely you can't object to -one of Mr. Brown's friends. Everybody likes -Mr. Hayward and he is received everywhere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everybody likes him, do they? Well you see to -it you don't like him any too much. I can't kick him -out if Brown stands for him, but you make it your -business to let him down easy. Have you seen Bob -Shaw lately?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was here last night when Mr. Hayward -came," answered Lily; and she seemed to be amused -at something.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what's funny 'bout that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lily knew that she must not tell her father what -she was laughing at. She created a diversion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Shaw is so backward, and so—dark."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dark! He's jus' a good hones' black,—so'm I—all -African and proud of it. Mebbe I'm too dark -to suit yuh. Bob Shaw is not backward, miss. He's -got the bes' law practice of all the niggers in the -Distric', and he'll be leader of the whole crowd in a few -years. He's the bes' one in the bunch of these fellers -who tag after you and you better take him. My -money and his brains and pull with the party 'd make -a great combernation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lily did not commit herself. She was accustomed -to her father's blunt method of indicating his wishes. -She liked Shaw well enough, but old Henry's awkward -interference and zeal did the lawyer's cause no -good. Shaw was below the ordinary in the matter of -good looks, and in his love for Lily was too submissive -to her whims. He had not Hayward's easy manner, -nor his assurance—for the footman was not at all -abashed by Henry Porter's money nor his daughter's -gentle arrogance. It is needless to say the girl -preferred the serving-man to the lawyer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the first flush of interest in Lily and her songs -had subsided Hayward made love to the pampered -belle warmly or indifferently as the mood was upon -him. He noted that, taking her charms in detail, they -were alluring without exception; and such moments -of reflective analysis were always followed by a more -determined pursuit of her. Yet the careless moods -came. However, he always delighted in and could -be extravagant in praising her singing, even when the -personal attraction was the weakest, and the general -effect on the woman was a continuous tattoo of -love-taps at the door of her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The negro magnate's favourite, Shaw, clearly was -being outdistanced, and the outraged father stamped -and threatened and commanded: but to no purpose. -When Hayward discovered the bitterness of the old -man's opposition he chuckled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's where I get even," he said; and became -more assiduous in his attentions to Lily and more -aggressive in his methods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your father does not appear to hold much love -for me," he told Lily one evening after she had sung -him into an affectionate frame of mind and the -conversation had drifted along to the confidential and -personal stage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did I ever tell you what he did with my first -request for an introduction to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. What?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He stamped the feathers off of it," said Hayward, -and laughingly told her the details.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Papa thinks—everybody—should be a lawyer, -or a politician with a pull," Lily commented -complainingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The temptation to vindicate his dignity was too -much for Hayward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was not always a footman and do not intend -always to be a footman; and yet, footman as I am, -if your father values a pull with the President, -perhaps, if he knew—oh, well, he might think better -of me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you have a pull? How interesting. Do tell -me about it. I have read so much about pulls that I -am dying to know what one is like. How do you -work it? I believe you work a pull, don't you? Or -do you pull the—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't pulled mine yet. I'm waiting," said -Hayward. "But it will work when the time comes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when will the time come? Tell me. I'm so -anxious to see the wheels go round in a genuine -political machine. How many Southern delegates can you -influence in the next national convention? That's the -mainspring, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm no politician or vote vender. I've never had -the pleasure of influencing my own vote yet, and won't -as long as I live in the District."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! Without politics or votes, and yet you -have a pull?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a personal matter entirely," Hayward -answered carelessly, as if personal friendships with -Presidents were very ordinary affairs for him. Lily -Porter was a mite skeptical, but she hoped he spoke -the truth, for it would more than confirm her estimate -of him and would be such an effective counter to her -father's nagging opposition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, isn't that interesting! Tell me all about it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really I cannot. I have never told that, even to -my mother. There is only one other person who -knows of it. It is my one secret, and my life—that -is, my future—depends largely upon it. There's too -much at stake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you fear to trust your life—your future—in -my hands?" asked the woman softly. "I could -be a very good and a very faithful friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lure in her voice was irresistible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would trust my soul with you," he answered, -and with the spoken faith the trust was perfected in -his heart. "Listen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He told her all about himself, of his name and his -history, of his life and his hopes. He was modest in -his recital of the creditable things he had done; but -when he had told her of his claim upon the President's -gratitude and the purpose toward which he would use -it, and began to talk of his ambition and his dreams, -his heart was fired by its own fervour, and before the -very warmth of his own eloquence all obstacles and -difficulties faded as mists before the sun, and he felt -that he needed only to put forth his hands to grasp his -heart's desires.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl was touched with his fire. She listened -with ready sympathy to the beginning of his story, -heard with quickening pulses of his rescue of Colonel -Phillips, and in the telling of his hopes was caught in -the current of his transporting fervency and carried -along with him to realize the vision of his martial -career.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that is the picture of your life! It is—it -will be—glorious!" She rose in her enthusiasm. -"Oh, that a woman might—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glorious—yes," the man said; "and till to-night -it had seemed perfect to me. But I have been blind to -its greatest lack. You have made me conscious of -it." Hayward stood up and moved toward the girl, who -wavered uncertainly between reserve and complaisance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would paint another figure into that picture, -Lily—the figure of a woman." He put his hands -out toward her, and her coldness was melting -when—"Lily," said her father from the hall, "what did -you do with the evenin' paper? I want to read -Mr. Shaw's speech before the convention this mornin'. -Mr. Brown told me that it is the greates' speech that's -been made yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henry Porter came into the parlour in time to catch -a glimpse of confusion and unusual attitude in his -daughter and Hayward. He thought best to mount -guard, and decided to talk Hayward into flight. He -began with a panegyric on Shaw. Hayward caught -the hint and took his leave, pulling Lily to the front -door by a chain of conversation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now remember," he murmured tenderly, "you -hold my secret; and must keep it sacredly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have no fear of me. Watch your other -confidante," Lily whispered, her manner full as his of -tenderness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, she is—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shaw told 'em," began the persistent and suspicious -parent, coming out of the parlour;—but the -footman was gone down the steps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward's mood changed in a twinkling and with -a jolt. He walked a hundred paces thinking confusedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The question slowly framed itself in his mind.... -"Do I love Lily?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he did not answer it.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xx"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The oncoming summer promised to be long and -uneventful for Helen Phillips. Late in May her -mother took her and her two little sisters to Stag -Inlet, leaving a perspiring father to await the -perverse pleasure of a stubborn Congress before beginning -his vacation, and Elise to set out upon a round of -visiting that would permit her to see very little of -home during the hot months. To Mrs. Phillips the -restfulness of "Hill-Top" was gratefully refreshing -after her trying first winter in Washington. She gave -herself over fully to its soothing quiet and arranged -her daily programmes on the simplest lines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward, because of his versatile abilities an -indispensable part of the simple Hill-Top outfit, did not -have an opportunity before leaving for Stag Inlet to -see Lily Porter again. Nor indeed was he regretful on -that account. He was in a state of indecision and -wanted time to think. He heartily wished that he had -not been so free with his confidences: yet could not -justify this feeling when he sought a reason for it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After awhile he wrote Lily a letter which was a -model of diplomacy—which said much and said -nothing. It did not disappoint or displease her. She -read between the lines an admirable modesty and -restraint, complimentary to herself and true to the -artistic instinct which, she had read somewhere, always -saves a full confession for a personal interview. She -took her own good time to answer it. She felt sure of -the man's devotion, despite the fact that his other and -unknown confidante was a woman other than his -mother. The tenor of her reply was reserved, though -not discouraging. Hayward's impatience was not -excited by the delay, nor his interest quickened by the -coy missive.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The first morning Helen was on the lake after -coming to the Inlet her launch passed a small catboat -commanded by Jimmie Radwine and flying a Yale -pennant from her diminutive masthead. The crew, -consisting of Captain Jimmie and another youngster, -both younger than Helen, were yelling themselves -dizzy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's Jimmie Radwine saying, Helen?" asked -Nell Stewart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmie had no intention of leaving them uninformed. -He had put his boat about, and come up alongside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Helen!" he shouted, "Harvard can't play -ball! Quincy can't pitch! Tom got a home run and -two two-baggers off him in four times up! Rah! rah! rah! -YALE!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen was a famous Harvard partisan, and many a -verbal tilt had she had with Jimmie, whose brother -Tom was Yale's right-fielder, as to the comparative -merits of the blue and the crimson in all things from -scholarship to shot-putting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was the score, Jimmie?" she asked him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wasn't any score—for Harvard: all for Yale. -Wow! Yale—Yale—Yale!" he yelled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen looked a dignified reproof of his unmannerly -enthusiasm, but Jimmie's youth was proof against any -such mild rebuke, and her irritation only kindled his -joy. She nodded to Hayward for more speed, but as -Jimmie was favoured by a stiff breeze they could not -shake him off. He followed them for two miles or -more up the lake, volunteering much information -sandwiched between cheers for Eli, which, when he -had delivered it fully and in detail, he began to repeat -in order to impress it upon them. Hayward cheerfully -would have bumped him with the launch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having so thoroughly enjoyed the morning's sport, -Captain Jimmie regularly afterward flew the blue -pennant from his mast, and was ever on the alert to greet -Helen with the Yale yell and further particulars.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Less than a month later the Harvard crew rowed -rings around the Yale men at New London. Helen's -cup was full. The next day she and Nell Stewart and -Nancy Chester were sitting out on the lawn reading -an account of the race when they saw Jimmie's -catboat beating about the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, girls," exclaimed Helen, "we must carry -the news to Jimmie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hayward, come here," she called to the footman, -who was tinkering at a gasoline runabout a hundred -yards from them. "Get the launch ready," she added -when he came nearer, "we want to overtake Mr. Radwine's -boat out there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess Jimmie will haul down that blue flag -now," said one of the girls when they had come to the -boat-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hayward," said Helen, "run up to the house and -tell mamma to give you the Harvard pennant that is -in my room—and hurry!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward needed no urging. Out of the chatter he -had caught the news of Harvard's victory at the oars, -and he was as full of excited pleasure as Helen herself. -He hurried up the hill and, not finding Mrs. Phillips, -rushed to his own quarters and turned out from his -trunk the crimson pennant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen was too intent on the chase of Jimmie Radwine -to notice that the short staff of the flag Hayward -brought her, and the faded and wrinkled folds of the -cloth, did not belong to the crimson emblem which -was part of the decoration of her dressing-table. -Jimmie, already informed of Yale's bitter defeat, -surmised the purpose of the Phillips launch's coming, and -tried to sail away and away: but he was relentlessly -pursued and overtaken, and mercilessly repaid for all -of his taunts of the last fortnight. As they came up -with him Helen cried out to her friends:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, everybody give the Harvard yell!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The feminine chorus was shrill, but lacked volume.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Again! and louder!" she commanded. "You -too, Hayward!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was the most grateful order Hayward had -received since the 10th was sent into the charge at -Valencia. He stood up to drive the deep-mouthed, -long-drawn rah-rah-rah's from his lungs, and added a -few kinks and wrinkles at the end in orthodox phrasing -and intonation by way of trimming off the severely -plain Harvard slogan. Helen looked at him in some -surprise, and saw that he was oblivious to his situation -and seemed bent on "rattling" the hostile blue -skipper. He came to himself at last, and pulled -himself together in some confusion to give attention solely -to his duties in running the launch. Helen thought -his behaviour unusual, and watched him covertly while -the badgering of Jimmie Radwine was in progress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmie was far from an easy mark, however, for -by his unblushing impudence and boyish pretension to -vast knowledge of facts and figures he time and again -crowded Helen to her defences. Hayward could -hardly keep his tongue when Jimmie presumed too -much on the ignorance of the young women as to the -athletic history of the blue and the crimson, and Helen -could see that the negro was keeping quiet with -difficulty. At one of Jimmie's most reckless statements, -which overwhelmed Helen, Hayward, bending over -the launch's little engine, shook his head in violent -dissent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, Hayward?" his mistress called to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon, Miss Helen, but he's—he's—misstating -it!" Hayward answered with vigour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then tell him of it!" Helen exclaimed impulsively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me, but you are altogether mistaken about -that, Mr. Radwine," the negro sang out to Jimmie, -shoving the launch up a little nearer the boat's -windward quarter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you know about it?" Jimmie demanded -scornfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know all about it," retorted Hayward with -rising spirit; and he went into details in a way to take -Jimmie's breath. Warming up, he did not desist on -finishing the matter in dispute, but challenged others -of Jimmie's audacious inaccuracies and proceeded to -straighten them out. Jimmie demurred and replied -more recklessly, and was soon in a rough and tumble -discussion covering the whole field of college -excellences. He found he was no match for Hayward -either in information and enthusiasm or in assurance. -Before the argument was half finished the footman -was talking to him in a patronizing and fatherly way -that pricked him like needles. He did not relish the -idea of a controversy with, much less being routed by, -this serving-man, especially in the presence of the -young women. He wished the girls anywhere else -so that he might smother the lackey with a sulphurous -blast. But he had to stand to the losing game -while Helen and her friends laughed at his defeat or -waved the crimson flag and cheered the Harvard hits -in a shrill treble. Helen indeed felt some -compunctions for having brought about the situation -but was enjoying Jimmie's discomfiture too much to -end it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward had forgotten he was a lackey, had forgotten -he was a negro, had forgotten he was anything -save a Harvard man proud of his college, proclaiming -her fair record with love and joy, confident in himself -as one of her sons.... "As a man thinketh. -so is he." ... The occasion was trivial, but the -transforming power of thought, its triumph over -circumstance, was strikingly evidenced in the footman's -face. Helen noted that his bearing had lost every -trace of conventional or conscious servility, that he -looked easily and confidently </span><em class="italics">a man</em><span>, calling no man -master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After harrying Captain Jimmie enough to pay off -all old scores they gave him good-bye with a final yell -for the crimson, and turned the launch for home. In -the run back Helen had her first opportunity to notice -the pennant. It was not hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hayward, whose flag is this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mine, Miss Helen. I could not find your mother -quickly, and I brought that to save time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked from the flag to the negro. A nebulous -idea floated through her mind, and she tried to fix -it, but it was too elusive. She put Nell and Nancy off -at their landings, and tried to grasp the intangible -explanation that was hovering about her brain. It was -characteristic of her to prefer working out her own -answers to looking at them in the back of the book. -Finally, however, she decided she did not have a full -statement of the problem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When did you go to Harvard, Hayward?" she ventured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Class of 191-, Miss Helen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"191-. Then you did not finish. The battle of -Valencia was—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Miss Helen, I did not finish: but I understand -two others of my class who volunteered were -passed on the spring term's work and graduated by a -special resolution of the Overseers. I think I will -apply for my diploma sometime—if I need it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward spoke lightly, but his last words brought -to Helen the same question which had occurred to her -so often in the last year since she had discovered in -him her father's rescuer. They only made the -question more insistent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was a Harvard man,—to Helen's mind a title -of all excellence and dignity. That explained much. -His intelligence, even his physical grace and soldierly -courage, seemed to fit naturally into that character. -But why a flunkey?—shirking higher duties and the -honours that pertained to his degree, careless of the -evidence of his scholarly merit, putting aside the -rewards of his soldierly heroism.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you care nothing for everything, Hayward?—except -this flag? You seem to have valued it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the one possession dearest to my heart," he -answered in simple truth, and then showed the first -faint trace of embarrassment she had ever seen him -exhibit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you have loved the Harvard pennant but -concealed your Harvard lineage. You champion -Harvard's name enthusiastically against Jimmie Radwine's -gibes, but you affect to be careless of Harvard's -diploma. You carry the Harvard culture, and -yet—you choose to be a footman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward winced. Helen tempered the thrust by -adding:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You do a soldier's work, but decline a soldier's -honours. You are </span><em class="italics">too</em><span> modest. You overdo the part."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope yet to do something worthy of Harvard, -Miss Helen. I am not without ambition, however -much you may think it. Indeed I fear I have too -much ambition."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A Harvard man need set no limit to his ambition. -Helen spoke with the wisdom and confidence -of youth and loyalty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The launch was at the landing. The girl climbed -out and up the steep stairs. At the top she bethought -herself and turned about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, here's your 'heart's dearest possession,'" she -said with a laugh, and she pitched the little crimson -flag down upon Hayward, who was making the boat -fast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man looked up to catch the flag as it fell, and -memory in that instant worked the magic which -brought the scene on Soldiers Field clearly before -Helen's mind. She knew him in that moment. She -gazed at him without speaking. She looked at the -flag and then at him—once, and again. All the -incidents of the driving finish of that ever memorable -football game came back to her, bringing to her pulses -an echoing tremor of its tense excitement and wild -enthusiasm and her unstinted girlish admiration for the -player who had saved his college, her Harvard, from -black defeat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last she remembered his words about the -pennant which she had quoted to him a moment since. -Her cheek flushed and she was in two minds whether -to be offended or amused. Graham saw her look of -surprised recognition, her glances at the pennant, and -read the significance of her rising colour. He felt the -presumption of his very presence, and, conscious and -guilty, he looked abjectly out across the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man's humility went far to mollify Helen's -anger or levity; but she could not spare him entirely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you prefer another name to your own," she -said. "Why is that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, Miss Helen. I am not ashamed of my -name. There's no reason why I should be. I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why use another?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is John Hayward Graham. I am using -my own, but not all of my own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why the masquerade? It doesn't look well. -What have you done to be afraid of your full name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, Miss Helen, I declare upon honour. I'll -tell you the whole story. You have been kind to -respect my wishes not to make known my services to -your father, and I'll gladly tell you all about it. But -I must go now, if you will excuse me? Mrs. Phillips -ordered the carriage for five o'clock and it's nearly -that time now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll excuse you, Hayward," Helen answered, intending -a dismissal of the subject as well as of the -servant.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For a year now Helen had had an unconsciously -growing regard for her footman's mental abilities and -for his gift of entertaining her with his tales of battle -and camp and other incidental themes of conversation -which at odd times had beguiled the moments of the -past summer after his identity had been revealed to -her as "the trooper of the 10th" of her father's most -thrilling battle story. It was but natural that -conversation with a man of his cultivation of mind and wide -information should dull the sense of caste and -superiority and enhance a feeling of genuine respect. It -was only occasionally now that she assumed an air of -command:—at best it is a difficult thing to patronize -intellect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen did not have an opportunity to hear Hayward's -proffered explanation for quite a long time, -and she cared little to know anything further of it; -but her attitude of mind toward him had changed. -Formerly she sometimes had wondered that a footman -should be so intelligent. Finding that he was a -Harvard man, however, had reversed the problem. It -raised him to a level of respectability above his calling, -and left the fact that he was a serving-man to be -accounted for as anomalous. That he was a negro -counted with her, of course, for naught one way or -the other. He was nothing less than a footman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, with all her democratic ideas, she was a -President's daughter; and that he was a footman, -until it was explained, and even after it was -explained,—as long, in fact, as he remained a -footman,—would cause that vacillation between anger and -amusement which came to her yet with the remembrance of -his embarrassed declaration that her pennant was his -heart's dearest possession.... She was somewhat -annoyed by her own mild self-consciousness—an -unusual mental state for her; more so than by any -forwardness on the man's part in speaking the -speech,—for there had been nothing of that.... She -would not think of it.... Why should she think of -it? The idea was ridiculous. She would laugh it -away.... Of course the pennant was a dear possession: -the man prized it as a memento of his college -life and his daringly won victory.... Certainly, it -was a very dear possession: she had similar -school-day souvenirs which were precious to her heart -though recalling moments of less energy of loyalty -and wild delirium of joy.... Besides he may have -meant, he could have meant, nothing personal to -herself,—for he could not have known her—she was -nothing more than a child seeing her first great -football match—and he had caught but a glimpse of her -in all that yelling throng—if he had seen her at all.... -It would be a miracle if he remembered her... -And yet he seemed to remember.... Though why -should she think so? He had </span><em class="italics">said</em><span> nothing to indicate -it.... But he knew—she was sure that he knew.... -And what if he did know, and did value the pennant -on that account? The personal consideration -was not imperative. Was she not the President's -daughter, and would not any man deem it an honour -to be decorated by her hand or high privilege to carry -her flag? The lowest menial might properly take -pride in her approbation and set great store by a token -of her approval.... But—this man is neither low -nor menial, for all his servile livery. He is a -gentleman by every token: educated, brave, strong, modest, -self-sacrificing, chivalrous. It is hard to consider him -as an underling—a footman.... And why is he a -footman? ... She does not care why he is a footman ... or -that he is a footman.... He must keep his place.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Helen was taking her early morning ride. She -pulled her horse up sharply and waited for her groom -to overtake her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why are you a footman, Hayward?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward was startled. The girl had been uncertain -in her treatment of him for a month, and he was -expecting anything that might happen, from a plain -discharge to arrest as a suspicious character. He was -confused by the suddenness of the question, and by -the peculiar mingling of sympathy and impatience in -Helen's voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you, and what are you trying to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am John Hayward Graham, Miss Helen, as I -told you before. I am a footman now because it seems -to be necessary. I did not intend to be a footman so -long as this when I obtained the position." Helen -thought she detected a shade of embarrassment again. -"But after I was employed at the White House my -mother's health gave way suddenly and she could no -longer support herself and I was compelled to keep the -place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man saw that he was making an awkward mess -of it, and the quick intelligence of Helen's eyes showed -him her inferences were all adverse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well," he said, "I'll begin again. It took all -the money my mother had, Miss Helen, to pay for my -education—all, and more. That she ever met the -expense of my tuition has been a miracle to me. But -she did it—insisted upon doing it. My father was a -Harvard man. He died when I was two years old, -leaving as his only admonition the injunction that I -be thoroughly educated. My mother was faithful to -that exhortation. She spent her meagre fortune and -the abundant strength of her life to the last cent and -almost to the last heart-beat in a religious obedience -to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your mother is still living?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; and please do not think I was so ungrateful -and so unfilial as purposely to wait till she was helpless -before lifting the burden of breadwinning from her -shoulders. I was in five months of graduation when -the call came for volunteers in the spring of 191-; -yet I could not resist that call, nor would my mother -have me resist it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A Spartan mother," commented Helen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My grandfather died in the front of battle, Miss -Helen,—to make men free. My father was a soldier. -The first bauble that I can remember playing with as -a child was a medal of honour with its red, white and -blue ribbon which was given to him for some daring -service to the flag, I know not what. That medal and -his good name was all that he left to me. I lost the -medal before I knew what it stood for, and I have -temporarily laid aside the name of Graham; but none -the less is the memory of that bronze eagle-and-star -an inspiration to me to a life work creditable to the -name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I enlisted I was really taking a large -financial burden from my mother, and if, after my first -term of enlistment was up, I was unthinking of her, -it was because out of the blood of my fathers and my -army experience had been born a life ambition which -filled all my thoughts: the ambition to be a soldier. I -was off my guard, for I had never thought of my -mother as having a human frailty. When she came to -place herself in my care I noticed, as I had not a month -before, how far spent was her strength, and I was -alarmed at the sudden change in her appearance. This -change had come to her as it comes to many—with -the moment of her surrender to the inevitable. Men -and women may stand with determined and unshaken -front against the assaults of weakness until it wins into -the very citadel of their strength and possesses -everything save the flag which flies at the tower-top. So -with my mother: she had stood to her duty till there -remained of her wonderful energies only her unshaken -resolution, and when that flag was hauled down there -was nothing left to surrender."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Everything in the man's tribute to his mother—sentiment -and metaphor—appealed to Helen, and the -tears came to her lashes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But she still has the strength to be vastly -ambitious for her son, Miss Helen. Death itself will -hardly weaken that. She talks to me of little beside -the day when I shall be an officer in the army."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You aspire to a commission, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; and it is for that reason that I desire the -President shall not know now that I am the man who -carried him out of danger at Valencia. I know that -naturally he will be grateful, and I wish to make no -draft upon his gratitude till I ask for that commission. -I expect much difficulty, and I wish to marshal at one -moment every circumstance in my favour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As papa says, 'attack with horse, foot and -guns,'" said Helen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that's the idea. I had hoped that by the end -of a second term of enlistment my preparedness -together with your father's friendliness and a growing -liberality in public sentiment toward men of my race -would win for me my heart's desire—a lieutenancy -of cavalry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your race will not count against you, Hayward," -said Helen. "Papa has no such provincial notions as -that. And I am sure he will not be ungrateful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you for the assurance, Miss Helen. Your -father is my ideal of a fearless and just man. I count -more upon his fearlessness and fairness than upon his -gratitude. But my heart is too keenly set on realizing -this ambition for me to omit to enlist any favourable -influence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why are you a footman?" Helen repeated -the question with which she had first addressed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was on my furlough, Miss Helen, when I took -this place temporarily, fully intending to re-enlist -when my time was up; but my mother's break-down -just before that time compelled me to forego re-enlistment -and to hold this position which pays a wage -sufficient to support the two of us. A soldier's pay -would not accomplish it, and my mother's condition -would not permit me to leave her. However, I have -not thought of foregoing my career as a soldier. I -am studying every day to prepare myself for the duties -of an officer. My Harvard training fortunately -supplies me with all but the purely technical knowledge -required, and makes it possible for me to acquire that -without assistance. I will win yet, Miss Helen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A Harvard man </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> win." Helen spoke with -dogmatic faith.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> must win,—not only a commission, but -the 'well-done' which is a soldier's real recompense -for a life-time's service. Not only my 'Harvard -lineage,' as you once called it, but my grandfather's -death, my father's life, my mother's toil and sacrifice, -lay the compulsion of endeavour and success upon me. -My mother is a hopeless invalid, but I pray she may -live to read my lieutenant's commission. I have -concealed from her the juggling with my name. I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why did you juggle with it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some pride in my patronymic and in that very -Harvard lineage would not permit me to degrade -either by becoming a footman as John Graham."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And again, then: why are you a footman? You -have not answered that question yet. Your purposes -in life are admirable, your motives are—beautiful, -your success will be brilliant I earnestly hope,—even -more, I dare to prophesy; and I shall be proud to -know when your name is famous, that I gave you your -first flag;"—She laughed—"but why did you -become a </span><em class="italics">footman</em><span>, Hayward?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pulled her horse up to wait for his answer. -Hayward looked steadily in her eyes, which were -regarding him with frank enquiry, until a quickness -came to his pulses and a rashness into his heart, and -by his gaze her eyes were beaten down and the colour -brought to her cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" Her voice had as much of appeal as of demand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward caught his breath quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have read Ruy Blas, Miss Helen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," Helen answered. "What has that to do -with it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward had the same sensation as when in the -Venezuelan campaign he had first keyed his nerves for -battle at sound of the picket's shots only to have the -danger pass. Then the releasing tension had been -painful. Here it was grateful. He drew a breath of -relief. He was very glad the girl had not read of </span><em class="italics">Ruy -Blas</em><span>,—of the lackey who loved a queen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The place of footman was the only position open -to me. I applied for another but failed to get it." He -ignored the question and through this lie outright, -told in words of perfect truth, he made a precipitate -retreat. "The service was to be short, and it gave -me an opportunity to see at close range something of -the man upon whom my hopes so much depend," he -added as an afterthought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a closer view has not dampened your hope?" -asked Helen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Miss Helen. Increased it, rather. Your -father puts heart into a man. His broad sympathies -and firm principles of justice inspire one to the highest -and best that is in him. The lofty example of his -courage and purity and effectiveness, personal and -civic, is a living inspiration to the nation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For which the nation is indebted to your heroism," -added Helen. "For myself and all the people -I thank you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If Hayward had been white he would have blushed. -The personal turn Helen gave the matter left him -with nothing to say. He sat his horse abashed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A stray thought of her dignity flitted across Helen's -mind. She drew herself up, touched her horse with -the crop, and rode on. Hayward, at the command of -her manner, stiffened into </span><em class="italics">attention</em><span> as she drew away, -and followed—at the proper distance.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxiii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Helen inherited Bobby Scott when the real men -came around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise had brought Lola DeVale, Dorothy Scott and -Caroline Whitney with her for a two-weeks stay at -Hill-Top and they had planned for a breathing-spell -in which they hoped to be rid of men and have a -restful girlish good time. Bobby Scott, Dorothy's -brother, had been asked to come because he was -present when the thing was first proposed, and had -accepted—much to Caroline's disappointment. But -really he did not disturb their plans very much. -Bobby was somewhat young, and entirely manageable: -and, as said before, Helen inherited him when -the real men came along.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And they came: Hazard, the moment Congress -adjourned; Tom Radwine, every minute he was not -asleep after he knew Caroline Whitney was there; -Captain Howard, after three days' wait at Newport; -and, for a day and a half, no less a personage than -Senator Richland. The Senator had a heart to heart -talk with President Phillips about a certain matter of -politics, but he deceived no one, not even himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bobby Scott felt his importance, for the reason that -he and the Senator were entertained at Hill-Top. He -felt that he was in a position of vantage and really -ought to profit by it. But the ease and sang-froid with -which Tom Radwine always relieved him of Caroline -was not only exasperating but rather confusing to -him. Why couldn't Tom look out for Dorothy? She -was not his sister; and, beside, she was no end better -looking than Caroline. Here came Tom now, straight -past the other young women, to disturb his </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> -with Caroline.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, Mr. Scott," called Helen, "we'll go and -have a ride."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bobby pretended not to hear. Helen's assumption -that he must vacate when Radwine appeared nettled -him. He liked Helen in everything save that she -would not take him seriously. He sat still, determined -to hold his position against all comers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've won in a walk," said Radwine to the young -woman. "It's ten minutes yet to five o'clock—good -afternoon, Mr. Scott—oh, I am all sorts of a winner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Caroline's answer to Radwine was just as meaningless -to Bobby, and in half a minute without the slightest -discourtesy on the part of the others, he felt that -he was a rank outsider.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you coming, Mr. Scott?" Helen called to -him again—and Bobby went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you will excuse me?"—he asked Caroline's -permission.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, if you must go. Take good care of -Helen. She is so young and venturesome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This last speech in a measure placated Bobby's -offended notions of dignity, and he and Helen went -off toward the stables, where Hayward brought the -horses out and put the saddles on while Bobby looked -them over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is a very handsome mount," he said to Helen, -indicating Prince William. "He's a dead match for -the horse of Lieutenant Lavine, of the Squadron."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon, sir," Hayward interrupted to ask, -"what squadron?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Squadron A, New York," Bobby replied, and began -to relate to Helen some incident of his experience -as a trooper in that organization, and afterward to -dispense general information as to horses and -horsemanship. He would not have been so garrulous about -these things perhaps but for the fact that his -membership in Squadron A was a new toy from which the -gilt had not been worn off. Hayward listened to him, -first with interest and then with wonder. He did -not know the young gentleman was a very new and -very raw recruit in the Squadron's forces, and he -came near dropping a saddle at some of Bobby's -ebullitions of ignorance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This knee," said Bobby with a look of concern as -he ran his hand down Prince William's fore-leg, -"seems to be slightly swollen. You should be careful -to guard against spavin. It is a serious—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The negro laughed in his face before he could check -himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what is it?" demanded Bobby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon, sir,"—Hayward pulled his face into -respectful shape—"spavin is a disease of the hock, -not of the knee. The Prince struck that knee against -a hub on the carriage this morning. No damage done, -I think, sir.... They are ready, ma'am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Mr. Scott prepared to mount he noticed that -Prince William's bridle had only one rein.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is the snaffle-rein?" he asked Hayward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The curb rein was broken this morning, sir, and I -haven't another yet. I changed that rein from the -snaffle-rings to the curb."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Change it back," Mr. Scott directed. "He will -not trot with the curb."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True, sir, he'll not; but the Prince has not been -ridden in several days, and he'll be hard to hold. I -think you'd better use the curb, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No use to advise Mr. Scott. He had heard that -your true cavalryman delights in a trot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just change it, will you," he commanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The footman glanced at Helen before complying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," she said; "put the rein on the -snaffle-rings, Hayward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward obeyed and they were off. He watched -them out of sight, and remarked as he turned into the -stable:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What he doesn't know is something considerable."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"If all the flunkeys were as modest and respectful -as they are timorous," Bobby said to Helen as they -rode off, "the service would be greatly improved the -world over. And if they were as full of courage as -they are of conceit, bravery would be a drug on the -market. I believe you said Hayward is your footman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," Helen answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That explains it. These coachmen and footmen -become so accustomed to carriage cushions that the -saddle is an uncertain and rather fearsome seat for -them. Their personal fears would not be out of the -way if they would not impute them to men who can ride."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sparkle of interest in Helen's eyes encouraged -Mr. Scott to proceed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My observation has been that the under-classes -do not ride well—or cannot ride at all. I think that -riding is naturally and really the diversion of -gentlemen, the </span><em class="italics">hoi polloi</em><span> do not take to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It occurred to Helen that the </span><em class="italics">hoi polloi</em><span> of Bobby's -town of New York had not the money with which to -"take to" saddle-horses, but she did not raise the -point. Bobby continued to talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would not consider my education complete if I -were not accustomed to the saddle. I think that many -of our young fellows are not only careless of a most -healthful and gentlemanly sport, but are recreant to -duty as citizens, in not perfecting themselves in feats -of arms and horsemanship. What is it that Kipling -says in lamenting the degeneracy in sterner virtues of -the gentry of Britain? Something like</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'And ye vaunted your fathomless power, and ye flaunted your</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>iron pride</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Ere—ye fawned on the Younger Nations for the men who could</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>shoot and ride.'"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Good for you, Mr. Scott. I did not imagine you -were so seriously interested in Kipling as to memorize -his lines. He is fine, though, isn't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that couplet impressed itself upon me without -effort on my part. It appeals to me. I think it is -a disgrace for a young man not to know how to shoot -and ride. Alas, there are so many who do not. Little -wonder that I am asked to put myself within the -precautionary limitations of a timid flunkey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen said nothing. She saw Mr. Scott was deeply -offended because he had known so little about spavin. -His dissertation on horsemanship caused her to note -with some interest his manner of doing the thing. As -they rode along, her mare in a slow canter and Prince -William in a trot, the young man was giving a -faithful exhibition of the method taught by "Old -Stirrups," the Squadron's riding-master; but Helen could -see that he was keenly conscious of every detail of the -process, from the tilt of his toes to the crook of his -left elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet Mr. Scott was enjoying the ride—no doubt of -that. Never had he had such an opportunity to parade -his pet ideas and conceits, and never had he had such -a respectful hearing. At last the younger Miss -Phillips was taking him seriously. He plumed himself, -and essayed a more elaborate panegyric on manly -preparedness. Helen permitted him to do all the talking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was at some pains to instruct her in the art of -riding. He advised her how to hold the reins, how -to make her horse change from a canter to a trot then -to a gallop, how to change the step-off in the gallop, -and, all together, passed on to her about all he could -remember of the information acquired from "Old -Stirrups." It was imparted, however, after the -manner of first hand knowledge born of large experience. -He felt that he was living up to Caroline's admonition -to look well after Helen, and was gratified that the -young lady received his coaching with such beautiful -humility and seriousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This the best part of the Lake Drive," Helen -suggested finally, "the mile from here to 'The -Leap.' May we not let the horses go a little?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, certainly, if you wish," Mr. Scott consented. -"Don't be nervous. Just keep the rein tight enough -to feel her mouth firmly so she won't stumble, and let -her go 'long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen clucked to her mare and swung into a moderately -fast gallop.... The exhilaration of it occupied -her for a time, and then she noticed Mr. Scott -was not altogether comfortable. The Prince was -pulling against the bit in a stiff trot that was making a -monkey of the young man's memorized method. -Helen thought that the riding would be easier for him -if Prince William would break into a gallop, and she -pushed her mount to a faster pace in order to make -the horse break over. Feeling perfectly at ease in her -saddle, she unwittingly urged the mare faster and -faster in kindly meant effort, till finally the increasing -speed became so furious that she was a bit alarmed, -and pulled in on her bridle-rein. Horror! the mare -was beyond control!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The horses were about neck and neck, with Prince -William a nose in the lead and going hard against the -snaffle in a trot of such driving speed as the young -Mr. Scott had never been taught to negotiate. He -was pulling his arms stiff against the smooth bit, but -that only steadied the Prince to his work. Helen -gave a despairing pull with all her strength, but it did -not affect the mare's seeming determination to -overcome the Prince's lead. She called to her escort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop her! I can't hold her, Mr. Scott!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Scott tried to reply, but his effort at speech -resulted in a stutter which that merciless trot jolted from -between his teeth.... He could not help her.... -His own emergency was more than he could meet. His -right foot had been shaken from its stirrup, and could -not regain it. With his right hand he held in grim -determination and desperation the cantle of the -combative saddle which was treating him so roughly. No, -no help from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen, riding in perfect comfort, though at a -frightful pace, looked toward Mr. Scott to see why he gave -no aid. She saw his predicament was worse than hers. -He had no hand to offer her. He needed both of his, -and more.... She remembered her footman and -his lifting her from her falling horse,—and wished -heartily for him in this crisis. She realized that she -must save herself, and with that to reinforce and stiffen -her resolution she again pitted her strength and will -against those of the headstrong mare. Her heart sank -when she thought how near they were coming to -"The Leap," and she threw every ounce of will and -muscle against the bit, and held it there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last, as if with a knowledge of the danger just -ahead, the mare slowed down. But the madcap Prince -William took a longer chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On a little promontory jutting out into the lake the -roadway makes a sharp turn at a point some seven -or eight feet above the water and almost overhanging -it. Helen and her father had facetiously named it -"Lover's Leap." Prince William knew as much -about that turn as Helen's mare, but he disdained -caution. He was a bold and close calculator,—for -he made the turn by a hair's-breadth, at top speed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not so Mr. Scott. As the horse swung mightily to -the left the rider's momentum pried him away from -the saddle, and he took the water clear of all obstacles.... -Helen, close behind him, but already relieved of -fear for herself, felt her heart stop beating when the -man went off his horse, for he missed a tree by a -dangerously narrow margin. But he picked himself -up unhurt out of two feet of water, and clambered -up to the driveway, covered with humiliation and the -friendly lake mud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen had been too thoroughly frightened to laugh -then, but she preserved in memory the picture of -"Bobby's stunt," and many a time afterward laughed -at it till the tears came. For many moons she could -not think of Kipling or "flaunting an iron pride" -without an insane impulse to giggle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Prince William, having caused all the distress, -afterward acted very nicely about it. He permitted himself -to be caught, and carried Mr. Scott back to Hill-Top -in the most manageable and equable of tempers. Mr. Scott -himself, however, was in a temper entirely other. -Inwardly he was choking with stifled oaths, for in -Helen's presence he must needs be decent in speech. -He began at once to berate Hayward, but realized -before he had finished a sentence that he could not -make out a case against him, and he saw disapproval -in Helen's face. He gave it over as a situation to -which no words were adequate, and the ride home was -a strenuous essay at lofty silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen, despite her rising mirth and her contempt -for Bobby's puerile desire to shift the blame for his -mishap, had enough pity for him in his miserable -plight to suggest that they make a detour and -approach home from the rear side and avoid the eyes of -the people assembled there. Bobby was grateful for -the suggestion. It promised success. That Hayward -should see him, he of course expected, and he rode up -to the stable-door, dismounted and handed his bridle -to the footman with an air of unconcern and assurance -befitting a man at ease with himself and in good -humour with the world. Hayward regarded him -calmly from head to heel, but did not betray his -flunkey's role by so much as the tremble of an eyelash. -This made Mr. Scott angry. He had expected something -different, and had prepared a very dignified -reproof.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Damn that insufferable negro. Why didn't he -laugh outright?" he growled as he walked around the -house. Helen had run away as soon as she had -dismounted in order to save her fast toppling dignity. -Mr. Scott's flanking movement was successful and he -was almost safe when—he ran plump into Caroline -and Tom Radwine on the side porch. Caroline's -outburst brought the others to see what the fun was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mis-ter Scott!" she exclaimed. "What kind of -a stunt have you been doing? You look comical to -kill. Oo—ooh!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bobby took on a sickly grin when Caroline's gaze -first fell upon him; but when she called him comical -it was a serious affair at once, and his face showed it. -Dorothy rushed up at that moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Robert, Robert!" she cried, putting her hand -upon his shoulder, "what have you done? Tell me. -Are you hurt? Have you been pulling Helen out of -the lake?" A glance at Helen answered that -question. "Well what, then, you precious boy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the first time that his older sister had ever -complied with Bobby's insistent request that she call -him Robert, and he somehow wished she hadn't.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Dorothy, have some sense—let me go—I -must have on some dry clothes. I took a tumble into -the lake—yes—that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Next time you decide to do that, Mr. Scott, I'll -be glad to loan you a bathing-suit." This from Tom -Radwine made Bobby mad as a hornet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Took a tumble into the lake, you say, Mr. Scott?" -asked President Phillips, pushing through the crowd. -"How did that happen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was riding your horse, Prince William, sir, and -he was on edge. He spilled me off the drive into the -water at that sharp turn a couple of miles up. I had -only a snaffle-rein and could not hold him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only a snaffle-rein! Why I would never think of -riding that rascal myself without a curb. Hayward," -he called to the footman, who was passing, "what -kind of carelessness is this?—your sending the Prince -to Mr. Scott with only a snaffle-rein? You know very -well that brute cannot be controlled without a curb. -I'm surprised at you. Such a lack of sense as that is -almost criminal. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. -Don't repeat that performance—see to it you don't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Helen was standing in a yard of her father, -Hayward heard this stinging rebuke in unalloyed -surprise, but as she made no demur, he saluted when the -President was done, and said only:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir; it shall not occur again, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When her father had spoken so sharply to the -footman Helen had turned to Mr. Scott, expecting him to -exonerate Hayward; but Caroline Whitney's look of -genuine sympathy when Mr. Phillips spoke of that -brute's being uncontrollable without the curb bribed -the bedraggled young man to silence. Helen saw -Caroline's glance, and caught the reason for Bobby's -lack of candour, but she was disgusted with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was uncomfortable because of the injustice her -silence had done, for she was of an eminently fair -mind: and she told her father the whole truth of the -affair at the first opportunity....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could not see how Hayward bore himself so -composedly under the undeserved rebuke. If he -would abase himself thus, would barter his self-respect, -would lick the hand that smote him, in order -that he might obtain his commission—if he would -sell his manhood for it—for anything—he would -be contemptible in her sight.... Again the question -came: Why was he a footman? She could not -remember that he had ever answered it. Oh, yes,—the -idea had but just recurred to her—she would -read </span><em class="italics">Ruy Blas</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, on a long summer's afternoon she read </span><em class="italics">Ruy -Blas</em><span>—read the tale of the love of a flunkey for -his Queen: and while, when the idea finally dawned -upon her, and she first clearly understood the -significance of it all, she was— But let us not detail -that.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Helen and Hayward Graham were married on a -day in late October.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxiv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The chronicler of these events is aware that to the -readers of this history the bare statement of the fact -that Helen and her footman were wed comes as a -shock. Nevertheless, it was a plain and straightforward -path by which a careless and pitiless Fate had -blindly brought Helen to her husband. A girl, -treading by chance such a way as has been followed since -the world was young by the feet of maidens of high -degree who have loved below their station,—among -the accidents and incidents of her romance she had -come, unwitting, to an open door, an ill-placed door -not designed for her passage, a "door of hope for the -negro race" which her idolized father had thought -to fashion and set wide: and she had passed it -through—in reverse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A secret marriage was not characteristic of Helen's -ideas. She was betrayed into that by her warm -impulsiveness. She had had a beautiful programme -arranged for the fates to follow in. With a heart full -of love and of dreams, and with faith in a future -that would order itself at her bidding, she had planned -the whole course of events that should lead up to a -resplendent army wedding after Hayward had won -his commission. She never doubted for a moment -that all her roseate imaginings would come to pass, -and railed upon him that he had not her faith: for -Hayward was a doubter. The sheer altitude of his -good fortune made him fearful and distrustful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the twentieth time she told off to him on her -finger-tips the order in which his fortune should -ascend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>—"And then, when you are an officer—and -famous—you will marry—me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that may never be," the man had answered. -"Suppose the Senate should refuse to confirm my -nomination? By your condition I should lose the -commission and—infinitely more—you. If your -love and faith are supreme you will marry me whether -I win or lose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shall not doubt my love or faith," Helen -exclaimed impetuously. "I will marry you now, and -as the President's son-in-law you can the more surely -succeed. The Senators would not offer a personal -affront to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I must bring this honour to you, not you to -me," Hayward interrupted; "and, besides that, while -I willingly, gladly, here and now, surrender all hope -of this commission for ever and for ever if only you -will marry me now, it is only fair to you for me to -remind you that your father would never appoint his -own son-in-law to a lieutenancy in the army."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, bother!" Helen protested. "I have my heart -set on being a soldier's wife. Of course Papa couldn't -give a commission to one of his family—what was I -thinking about.... Well, there's nothing to do but -wait, I suppose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it may be an endless wait if the commission -is to come first," Hayward reiterated. "It was an -awful temptation to silence a moment ago when you -said you'd marry me now, but I could not trick you -into it, knowing how much you desire that commission."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen's mind worked rapidly for half a minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> marry you—and </span><em class="italics">now</em><span>!" she cried. -The girl's romantic spirit was aroused and her -spontaneous, unsophisticated feminine ideal of love was in -the ascendant. "I will </span><em class="italics">prove</em><span> my love and faith. I -will marry you now, and you may claim me when you -have won your laurels. Let the Senate refuse you a -commission if they dare!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And would you be willing to trust me to keep that -secret?" Hayward asked. "I almost would be afraid -to trust myself—I would want to yell it from the -housetops! Married to you and not tell it! Why, -it would just tell itself to any open-eyed man who -looked at me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," Helen answered. "I'm willing to trust -you. It's a hardship that cannot be avoided, and we -must make the best of it."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"And now," Helen had given her husband a last -laughing admonition, "since we must be clandestine -against our wills, let's be romantic to the last -most fiercely orthodox degree. No love-lit glances -or conscious looks. You be a perfect footman with -that indifferent and superior and high-and-mighty -air while you can, for when your bondage actually -begins you will never swagger again; and I will -be so haughty as almost to spurn your very -presence. We must make no foolish attempts at -conversation, and when we write must deliver our -letters personally into the hand, not trusting even -the mails with our secret. And then, when you -become an officer we will give the dear people the -surprise of their lives. My! won't it be fun to see -them! And it may be that when the time comes we -will not tell them that we are already married, but -will have another ceremony, a brilliant army affair -such as I have set my heart on. Wouldn't that be -gorgeous!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hardly would have acquaintances enough among -the officers to provide my share of the attendants," -Hayward answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, you would. You would make then fast -enough," the girl replied. "An American army -officer has the entrée everywhere—I've heard papa -say so a score of times—and, besides, Mr. Humility, -I suppose that my friends among the officers would -be numerous enough to fill all vacancies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward saw clearly wherein his wife's forecasts -were faulty; but it profited nothing to take issue with -her enthusiasms and he gladly joined in them. She -was his wife—that could not be changed; and he -felt that with that a fact accomplished he reasonably -might work for, and hope for, and expect, anything. -He returned to his work in the city, therefore, -overflowing with happiness and pride. It was not -surprising that as a White House footman he was more than -ever the subject of notice and comment, for never one -carried a perfect physique with such an air. If his -confident swing and tread had been the expression of -personal vanity, it had been insufferable; but love is -not insolent nor its struttings offensive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward was on good terms with the world. For -the first time he accepted the overbearing manner of -superiority of white men with complacency and even -with amusement. His time was coming—he could -wait. He went so far as almost to invite affronts -from several negroes of more or less prominence, who -had aforetime rebuffed his advances, in order, as it -were, to keep their offences in pickle so that their -chagrin might be more keen when the day of his -elevation should come. He was at particular pains to -keep Henry Porter's opposition going, and smiled -when he thought how thoroughly he would pay him -off in his own coin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a few weeks he put himself with buoyant determination -to the regular study of his text-books, which -he had theretofore read with more or less intermittent -interest, and began to lay out plans for the political -campaign which would be necessary to bring about the -issuing and confirmation of his commission. He -arranged with a personal friend, a lawyer in New -Hampshire, for the transmission of all correspondence -and papers relating to the matter in the name of John -H. Graham through this lawyer's hands,—thus to -conceal from the President even after the request for -the appointment had been made the fact that his -footman was the applicant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thinking out and arranging of these details and -the first rush of his attack upon his military studies -engrossed him for a month or more in every moment -he was off duty. So closely did he hold himself that -Lily Porter reproved him gently for his remissness -several times before he made his first call upon her. -He was really working very hard—in his leisure -hours. He had completely reversed the order of work -and diversion. To the one-time monotony of his daily -tasks he was now held by the fascination of chance -moments of speech—most often conventional, -occasionally personal, always delightful—with the -radiant young woman his wife, upon whom even to look -in silence was enough to send his blood a-leap. Every -day from the very first he took time from his work -of preparation to write to her.... The habit grew. -At first briefly, though always with fervent protestations, -and, as the days and weeks ran on, more and -more at length and with livening heat did he put his -heart-beats in his letters.... The habit grew too -fast. By the time that Congress met and the currents -of the great capital were in full swing, the forces of -Hayward's love had eaten into his ambition's -boundaries and the time that he gave to thoughts of Helen, -and in seeking variant and worthy phrases in which to -indite his passion, more than equalled that in which -he worked to earn those things which by her decree -should precede possession of her.... It was hard -not to stop and think of her. He wrote:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You disturb me in my work. You ride ruthlessly -through the plans of battle and campaign my textbooks -show, and make sixes and sevens of them. At -sight of you the heaviest lines of battle dissolve into -thin air and into mist the fastest fortress falls. At -the coming thought of you brigades and armies melt -away, and your face stands out a radiant evangel of -peace, the very thought even of wars and turbulences -dispelling.... What am I to do? I cannot chain -myself to study the science of strife when this -heavenly vision is calling me—and it is ever -calling—to love and love only.... I am fully persuaded -there is only one thing worth thinking on in all the -earth—and that is you."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>His wife's letters were all that mortal man could -desire, but only the more distracting for all that. -They were always short, but grew in warmth as the -sense of freedom grew upon the writer. Hayward -devoured them with increasing hunger, and with the -ever-recurring, never varying signature, "Your wife," -spark upon spark of impatience was enkindled with -his love. Finally he must of very necessity have some -vent for his restlessness. He sought diversion in the -society of Lily Porter. In fact he could with difficulty -avoid her: she too had set her heart on an army -wedding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward had only the very kindliest of purposes -toward Lily. He had continued his correspondence -with her during the summer. For the sake of his -plans unfolded to her in their last meeting before his -going away he could not break abruptly away from -her—though the task of remaining on friendly terms -and yet not proceeding with the suit so nearly openly -avowed was a serious tax upon his resources and -ingenuity. In his apprehension "the fury of a woman -scorned" loomed fearful and threatening. The object -of his apprehensions, on the other hand, while she felt -rather than saw the subtle change in him, was yet -flattered by his unaccustomed submissiveness to her -caprices and experienced delightful thrills of -expectancy as she waited for a trembling confession to -crown his new-found humility.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lily," her father had said to her on a morning -after one of Hayward's scattered visits, "I tol' you -once to drop that feller and I hoped you'd done it. -Understan' I don' want any footman comin' here. -We ain't in that class. You ought to have mo' respec' -for yourse'f. What you want with a servant hangin' -roun' you when you can take your pick of the -professional men in town, I can't see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't worry about me, papa," the girl sang as -she danced over to the piano, "I'll wed a military-tary -man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, thank Heaven you ain't got no idee of -marryin' that Hayward. I'll make it wuth while for you -to marry a professional or a military man either one, -but none of my money for a footman, I tell you now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No footman for me either, papa. I'll not marry a -footman, I promise you. I tell you I'm thinking of -a military man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not that Ohio major who was here with the -troops at the inauguration? I'd forgot all about -him," her father questioned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's not the only soldier in sight, but don't you -think he would do in a pinch?" Lily had forgotten -about him too, till her father mentioned him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd better look into that and see what sort of a -feller he is," said the father jokingly, greatly relieved -in mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe you had," the daughter replied insinuatingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lily had as many aristocratic notions as her father. -More, in fact. Her promise was sincerely given. It -was only when Hayward had told her of his purpose -and prospect of becoming an officer that he had broken -through her reserve. While she had always liked him -she had never had any idea of marrying a footman. -But an officer in the army!—she would have capitulated -on that evening she heard his story but for her -father's timely appearance. The idea had grown upon -her since, and she loved to reflect upon it and plan for -the outcome; though she had had time to collect her -thoughts and decide not to precipitate or render a -final decision till the commission was in the footman's -name. She really had to hold herself firmly in hand -to manage it so, for she loved the young fellow with -a whole-hearted fervour, and of his love for her she -was blissfully assured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl was developing quite an interest in military -matters. In one of their not unusual discussions of -Hayward's career it was arranged that at his first -convenient opportunity he should accompany her out to -Fort Myer to see a parade. Hayward went for her -on his first half holiday—rather, he went with her, -for she drove him out in her own stanhope. As they -were turning a corner they were halted for a moment -in a knot of vehicles. Lily was driving and Hayward -was talking to her with so much interest in her and -in what he was saying to her that he was oblivious to -the things about them.... He was accustomed to -sit quiet and indifferent while another driver solved -the problems of the streets.... The first thing that -diverted his attention from the girl beside him was -the small red-white-and-blue White House cockades -on the headstalls of a pair of horses just drawing -ahead of Lily's cob. He glanced quickly across to the -carriage—and met the full gaze of his wife's eyes. -She was sitting on the front seat of the landau facing -to the rear, and her eyes were upon him for a half -minute at very close range. Helen looked away -several times in her effort to be unconscious of his -presence. But she could not be perfectly oblivious or -withhold her glances altogether. She had heard the very -speech—the very gallant speech—Hayward was -making.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lily looked about to find the cause of collapse in her -escort's talk, and saw the man's peculiar look at -Helen, whom she knew by sight. She accounted for -his confusion at once, but the blush that came to the -young Miss Phillips' cheek and her evident -self-consciousness were so unaccountable as to be puzzling. -She searched Hayward's face keenly for an explanation -of his young mistress's behaviour—and he did -not bear the scrutiny with entire nonchalance. Lily -felt insulted in a way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope she will know us next time she sees us," -she said snappishly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No answer from Hayward; though he felt like a -traitor for letting the implied criticism go unchallenged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must hurry and get your commission. It -seems to disturb the fine lady to see her footman -enjoy the privileges of a gentleman. No doubt she -thinks it impertinent for a servant to deal in gallant -speeches at all, especially such a beautiful sentiment -as she must have heard you speaking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lily had hit the mark in the centre—but of course -she did not know it. That finely turned sentiment -which he had thrown out with such impromptu grace -and rhetorical finish was taken word for word from -his last letter to his wife, and he had puzzled his brain -for an hour in the choosing and setting of the dozen -words in which it sparkled. There was nothing -particularly personal in that dozen words, but how was -Helen to know but that they had been strung upon the -same thread in the man's conversation with his -unknown companion as they were in the letter lying at -that moment upon her own bosom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward did not enjoy the afternoon with Lily. -He had hoped Helen had not heard what he was saying, -but Lily's statement of opinion that she had heard -seemed to put the matter beyond doubt. He came -home quite disturbed in mind. He debated to himself -whether to write to Helen or wait for her answer -to his last letter. He decided not to plead till he was -accused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the next morning came—no letter. Night—no -letter. Another morning—no letter. He wrote:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you not write to me—and why is your -face so cold?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The answer came: "Who is that woman? She is -not your sister—for your sister would not look at -you like that—no, nor would you look at your sister -like that—nor would you say such a speech to your -sister. Who is she? And what right has such a -woman, what right has any woman to hear what your -letters have said to me? That sentiment is mine—you -gave it to me. It is mine, </span><em class="italics">mine</em><span>—do you -understand?—and you take it and fritter it away on -that—who is she? Keep away from her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The woman is a very good friend of mine," Hayward -wrote in reply, "</span><em class="italics">and nothing more</em><span>. The words -you overheard were spoken to her, I swear to you, -in no such connection as they were written in my letter -to you. If I had thought that you would so value -them and consider them your very own I never would -have 'frittered them away' on any person, believe me. -Do be forgiving and remember that men are not so -finely wrought as women. Only a woman—only -you, the most finely wrought of women—ever would -have conceived such a nicety of conduct for a lover. -There are good reasons why I cannot keep away from -the young lady as you request. I wish I could, since -you desire it. She is Miss Lily Porter, and a most -estimable young woman. I am indebted to her for -very much that goes to make life bearable. She is a -great musician and has filled with pleasure for me -many an hour that otherwise would have been -monotonous and dead. Please do not decree that I shall -not hear her sing. To listen to her is such a cooling, -refreshing oasis in the dry-hot barrenness of a workaday -life; and I declare to you my love for you grows -warmer if possible in hearing the ballads that she -sings, and to the lullabies she hums so beautifully I -dream alone of you. Believe me when I swear that -nothing can affect the perfect singleness of my -devotion,—and let your face shine upon me. It was so -cold yesterday that a most horrible dream came to me -last night: they were hunting us with bloodhounds -to take you away from me! Just think, I have not so -much as touched your hand since the preacher so -hurriedly made us one—only your eyes have been mine, -and now you withdraw them from me! Oh my queen, -smile upon me!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Helen's reply to Hayward's pleading letter was -for the most part reassuring and he felt that the -incident of the drive with Lily Porter was closed: but -the pains of love were only beginning to be upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen's letters grew briefer and briefer. There -was no lack of affection shown in them, but the -expression was not so elaborate as at first. She was in -the rush of preparation for her début, and less and less -was she free to write. Occasionally, as if in specific -answer to his prayer and to atone for her shortcomings, -she smiled upon him with such warmth that his -heart-hunger was appeased. Only for a space, -however, did that satisfy. The desire came back with -redoubled fury the instant the intoxication was off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like any other sufferer from intoxicants he had -his periods of depression. In such moments he felt -that his marriage was a mockery, that Helen was not -his, would never be his, could never be his. Long -odds were against his getting his commission—even -if the President signed it the Senate would never -confirm it. The fight would be too long, and the issue -hopeless—he could not win—his colour was too -great a handicap—curse it! A negro,—yes, a -negro—and white men so insufferably unjust to a -negro—curse them all!—curse the whole white-faced -race!—save only her—she was his—yes, she </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> -his—his by love and law—they could not take her from -him, and he would have her yet despite the whine of -all the purblind, race-proud Senators who might -oppose his confirmation—curse them all! curse them all!!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such moods were happily intermittent. Again he -was himself—a man among men—already a -winner—the crowned king of Helen's heart—the -President's son-in-law. Away with doubt! To whom so -much had come with ease everything would come with -effort. Confidence uplifted him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Helen's début was an event of note. No need for -her to be the President's daughter to make it so. Her -sensational beauty needed not the stamp of official -rank to give it currency, nor the sparkle of her -manner and speech any studied purpose to give them -vogue. Dominion came to her by divine right of -beauty and wit and ingenuous girlish honesty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the stately East Room, dressed but not -over-dressed for that occasion in palms and ferns and -flowers, beside her mother for two hours she stood, -the fairest, loveliest flower that ever graced that -historic hall, and received the new world which came to -take her to itself. Gowned in simplicity and maiden -white—with the flush of unaffected joy in her cheeks -and the sparkle of genuine youth in her gray eyes—with -the splash of October sunsets in her dark hair—with -a skin white and clear as purity, but shot through -with the evanescent glows and tints of health—with -neck, shoulders and arms rising from her gown like -a half-opened lily from its calyx—lissome and -graceful indeed as a lily-stem—virginal freshness in mind, -manner and person: she was a May-day morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear," said Senator Ruffin as he bowed low -over her hand, "may an old man who admired your -grandmother in her youth presume to express the -extravagant wish that you may be as happy as you -are beautiful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And may a young man," said Senator Rutledge, -close following Mr. Ruffin, "who has the orthodox -faith that </span><em class="italics">perfect</em><span> happiness is found only in heaven, -express the hope that the full consummation of -Senator Ruffin's wishes for you may be long delayed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And may you both live to repent of trying to -turn a young girl's head," Helen replied, making them -a curtsey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Once on a time I warned you against the day -when such speeches would be made to you," said -Rutledge, "and you have grown even more astonishingly -into the danger than the eye of prophecy could -perceive. I warn you again. Senator Ruffin spoke only -the words of soberness, as befits his age and station, -but wait you till ardent youth tells you what it -thinks—and you will have to hold your head on straight -with your hands: and—which dances may I have?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You unblushing bribe-giver!" said Helen. "But -you are just in time. I've only one left if I've counted -them right,—the very last. Why did you come so -late? The very last man. Listen, the clocks are -striking eleven."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just couldn't get here sooner. But I'll wait for -that last dance if it's a month."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The receiving-party was broken up and proceeded -to the refreshment room, afterward to go to the -ballroom, where were gathered those younger people who -were bidden to both reception and dance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember," said Evans to Helen as they left the -East Room, "I shall worry along with existence till -the last number on the card. See if you can't run in -an extra for my long-suffering benefit. By the way, -where is your sister?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In bed and cried herself to sleep two hours ago. -Poor thing, she wanted to come in and see me shine, -but mamma said 'no,' and packed her off to bed on -schedule time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now look here," said Evans, "little Miss Katherine -is a young lady of vast consequence—and it's -a shame she should be treated so: but I think you -knew very well I was inquiring for your older sister."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Elise?" she laughed. "She had gone across -the hall with Captain Howard just before you came in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge did not thank her for the information, -and Helen regarded him narrowly with amusement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Victoria Crosses are not to be resisted, Mr. Rutledge. -Heroes always have right of way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you speak from theory or experience?" asked -Rutledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Both," said Helen, as for the first time that night -she thought of her husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She thought of him quite a number of times before -the evening was over. In her thinking there was no -disloyalty to her love nor to her vows: but with all -the glowing prospects for a round of gayety which the -brilliance of this evening of her début promised for -her first season, she felt a vague regret that she was -not approaching the pleasures of it in the fullest -freedom. Some quite well-defined notions of what was -due her estate as a wife threatened to put certain -limitations and restraints upon her. She half wished -that that ceremony had been deferred—only deferred—till -the time when she would be ready to enter -upon the duties of her wedded life, assume its -responsibilities and be obedient to the restrictions which very -properly pertain to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her husband, also, was giving some thought to the -questions which the situation presented, with the -difference that he had not thought of anything else -since the evening began. With nothing to do since -eight o'clock, and free to go home, he had stopped to -see Helen in her coming-out glory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His livery was a passport; and he divided the time -of the reception—rather unequally, to be sure—between -scraps of conversation with coming and going -coachmen he knew and long periods of gazing upon -Helen's loveliness through a broad low window of the -East Room. He had never seen her in the role or in -the conventional evening dress of womanhood, and -the vision enchanted him. Crowning the piquancy of -youth and freshness and </span><em class="italics">élan</em><span> in the girl, was the -unstudied dignity and stateliness and graciousness of the -woman; and the metamorphosis held him entranced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked and looked and looked at her while every -variant tremor of love and pride and impatience swept -over his heart-strings. He saw the most notable men -in America, men whose business was world-politics, -bow in evident admiration before her beauty, and -linger to barter persiflage for her smiles and airy -speeches: and she was </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw her receive the magnificent Chief of Staff of -the Army, resplendent in the uniform of his exalted -rank: her, the wife of Sergeant Graham of "the -10th." And that towering figure with the stamp of -"Briton" in every massive line? Yes, Hayward -recognized him: the English member of the Canadian -Fisheries Commission—a lawyer of international -repute, a belted earl—bending a grand head low in -obeisance to a footman's wife—to </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> wife. The -insolence of pride filled his heart for a minute. Then -a twinge of doubt went through him: she would not -be a </span><em class="italics">footman's</em><span> wife: she had decreed </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> husband -must be an officer—oh, the bother and the worry -of it—and the uncertainty! But she was his beyond -escape, and if the worst came to—no, that would be -disloyalty.... Look, who is that shaking hands -with her now? Hal Lodge, by all that's Boston! -Where did he come from, and what's he doing here? -No matter, he's here. Look out, Hal, old boy, don't -hold my wife's hand so long—nor gaze into her eyes -so meaningly—I know your failing! My what a -joke it would be if you fell in love with her!—it -would be too funny. I owe it to old friendship to -warn you, but I mustn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the greater part of two hours Hayward -watched the reception. He saw the last man presented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know you, too," he thought. "You made -that infernal speech in the Senate last year—said -some good things for us, too, but on the whole it was -damnable.... I'll excuse you from talking to my -wife, you race-proud bigot! You needn't try any of -your 'ardent Southerner' on her.... Keep off the -grass. She belongs to me. She is mine—mine, -curse you! and all your raving speeches can't take -her away from me! ... Oh, well, talk on—yes, -talk on to her. I wish to heaven </span><em class="italics">you would</em><span> fall in -love with her! That would be quite the most delicious -dispensation of fate that could ever come to me—it -would be too good, too good to hope for—to have -you hopelessly in love with </span><em class="italics">my wife</em><span>! ... Oh, you -beauty, how can any man resist you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the other side of the house Rutledge afterward -swung past the footman's window in several dances -with Elise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," growled Hayward at last, "it's my brother-in-law -you aspire to be! Well, I don't approve of that -either. I'm surprised that your High-Mightiness -condescends to my humble father-in-law's family -anyway—and how they can suffer you to set foot in the -house after your deliverances I can't see—I'd jump -at the chance to pitch you out."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>An idea akin to the footman's had come that night -to Elise. For other reasons she, too, wondered why -she permitted Evans Rutledge to continue his friendly -attentions to herself. She had half made several -resolves to put an end to them. But—it is a fact -noted by close observers that even the most womanly -woman has some curiosity—that she is mildly -attracted by a riddle—that she detests—that is, she -thinks about—what she can't understand. In the -case in point Miss Elise Phillips was the woman and -Mr. Evans Rutledge was the riddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the moment that Lola DeVale had told her -that Rutledge had kissed </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> believing her to be Elise -the eldest Miss Phillips had had a growing desire to -know why he should have done it. She was properly -resentful that he had taken the liberty with her even -by proxy—oh yes, she felt sometimes she could box -his ears for his impudence.... But aside from all -that, why had he kissed her? Lola had told her -plainly long time ago that Mr. Rutledge had told her -no less plainly that his self-respect would not permit -him to confess his love again. Why then should he -kiss her? ... Oh, of course, men kissed women, she -knew, or at least had been led to believe, just for the -downright fun of the thing: but Mr. Rutledge surely -was not so common—and would not deal with </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> -on </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> basis. No, she would not believe it of him.... -If she had only been there, she thought, and -had seen the way the thing was done, the answer -doubtless would appear. The answer to the why was -evidently locked up in the </span><em class="italics">how</em><span>. Only Lola knew the -details of </span><em class="italics">how</em><span>. Elise had finally decided that she -might as well know them also.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola was no match for her friend in subtlety. On -her own initiative, as she supposed and at the peril -of severing their friendship, she gave Elise the whole -story. When she saw that the listening Elise was -only mildly offended at the disclosure, she again -rehearsed the episode for the purpose of colouring it -with the eloquence in Mr. Rutledge's tendernesses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a pity I was just enough stunned to be unable -to stop him. I heard every wasted word he spoke and -was conscious of all his misplaced kisses."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there was no harm done," Elise replied with -a contemptuous sniff. "I guess you are not the first -young woman upon whom he was thrown away kisses. -The modern young man never neglects any opportunity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hear experience speak!" said Lola.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My experience is not so far advanced as yours, -apparently," rejoined Elise; "but I'm not so uninviting -that no young man has ever shown a willingness -to kiss me. With all my inexperience I know what -they would do if I chose to bump my head against -the terrace steps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be envious and scratchy, dear. Remember -I gave you your property as soon as—" but she -desisted as Elise angrily tossed up her head and drew -her fingers across her lips in belated protest against -the transplanted caress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was verily displeased with Mr. Rutledge, -whom she saw at irregular intervals, neither too long -nor too short—for the times and seasons of his -meetings with her were entirely insignificant. She even -went to the trouble of making a special resolve that -she would not think of him; but it died and went to -the place where all good resolutions go. Now, -Captain Howard was her devoted attendant, as far as she -would permit him to monopolize her time. Outsiders -conceded him first place and probable success in his -wooing, and Elise herself had come to feel a sort of -possessory interest in him. He was at her beck and -call, quietly but evidently elated when at her side, and -unmistakably bored when passing time with some -other young woman and awaiting Elise's summons. -But Rutledge: he was not less elated than Howard -when it was his fortune to have Elise's whole attention, -and made no effort to conceal his love for her;—and -yet he did not attempt by word or look or -gesture to add a jot of confirmation to his one declaration -of it, or even to remind Elise that he had made -it. A score of times she had seen his love in his -eyes—plainly, so plainly, when he talked to her: but he -talked always about impersonal matters—in an -abominably interesting way—and when she -dismissed him seemed to become oblivious to her -existence and very careless as to what time should elapse -before he came to her again. Indeed he showed no -apparent purpose to come—or to </span><em class="italics">stay away</em><span>, which -was worse. If it would not give the lie to her -indifference she would send him about his business for -good and all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Did he love her? Yes, she was convinced of it—without -Lola's assurances. Then, why had he kissed -her? Would he kiss a woman for the love of her -and yet be unwilling to tell that love to her? Would -his self-respect permit him to kiss her whom his -self-respect would not permit him to marry because her -father received negroes at his table? "Self-respect" -would be making some peculiar distinctions in that -case,—even if everything be conceded to a Southerner's -ideas of "social equality." A girl to be -kissed, but not to be courted!—Elise's face burned -at the thought. No, she would not insult herself -by believing Mr. Rutledge's love had lost its chivalry—that -he could deal with her on any such Tim-and-Bridget -basis—there must be some other explanation.... -Sometimes she desired the explanation -very heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In their last waltz on the evening of Helen's début, -both these wrong-headed young folks had been alive -to the sensations bordering on the delicious with -which her heavenly mood, his unspoken love and the -sensuous music had quickened their pulses. There -was something, however, in the suddenness, in the -completeness, with which he turned away from her -which Elise resented, and which made her want -to know who it was that must have been in his -thoughts even while he was making that last gallant -speech to her. As she turned to see, he was being -welcomed by little Miss Margaret Preston, a -one-year's blossom, with such a tell-tale flutter of shy -admiration, that Elise chose to look that way again -after a few moments. Then he was bent down above -the little lady in that manner full of all gentleness -and deference Elise knew so well, and was saying -something to her,—as if nothing else in all the -world was worth while,—which sent a rich, red blush -to over-colour the blossom's white and pink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you keep in practice of your arts at all hazards," -thought Miss Phillips, "even at the expense of -young things like that! ... I hope that some </span><em class="italics">woman</em><span> -will teach you your lesson yet!"—and she turned to -Captain Howard with a bewildering smile, and did -not look at Mr. Rutledge again that evening.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxvi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>All this time the footman-husband was doing sentry. -With the passing of the receiving party into the -supper-room he had changed position and mounted -guard where he could look in on the dancing. A -White House policeman who had had an eye on him -all evening thought his conduct unusual and walked -close by to give him a searching inspection. -Afterward a secret-service man thought best to look him -over carefully. None of these things moved him from -his purpose, however; nor did the cold wind nor a -thirty minutes' flurry of sleet unset his resolution. -He watched his wife's every glide and turn in the -dance till the violins sleepily sang of </span><em class="italics">Home, Sweet -Home</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The effect of his vigil on the dancing side was -disturbing to Hayward. As Helen passed from the -arms of one man to another he began to grow nervous. -His positive resentment was aroused when she -was whirled past the window in the embrace of a -sprig of nobility attached to the Italian embassy. Her -shivering husband's blood jumped. He had heard -things about that chap!—oh, the profanation of his -even touching the hand of Helen—thank Heaven the -muse has stopped to catch its breath! Next it was -Rutledge treading a measure with the débutante, and -his anger burned again,—flaming no doubt it would -have been had he known that the number was an extra -devised by his wife in Rutledge's special favour. -Anything was better than the Italian though!—some -comfort in that.... And now comes Hal Lodge -piloting her through the swirl. Careful, old man, -don't hold her so close. She is quite able to carry a -part of her own weight!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There can be no doubt it takes some culture—of -a sort—for a man to be able to look with entire -complacency upon his wife in another's arms, however -fine a fellow or fast a friend that other is. There be -those who have attained unto such culture: but -Hayward had had few opportunities in that school—he -was happily—in this case unhappily—ignorant of -its refinements of learning. He knew, of course, as a -matter of pure mentality, that it was a perfectly -harmless pastime, but his heart would not subscribe to the -knowledge. No, he thought, it was no use to try to -deceive himself: he didn't like it and he didn't care to -try to like it. She was his wife, and to have other -men putting their arms about her even in the dance, -when he himself did not have the privilege and would -not have it until—oh, damn that commission!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The weeks following Helen's coming-out gave -nothing to allay the tumult rising in her husband's -heart. The duties of his service compelled him to -look on many scenes from which he gladly would -have turned his jealous eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the grim humour of fate was it, too, that his -friend Hal Lodge should cause him the keenest -heart-burnings. Hayward wrote to Helen all about their -friendship and intimate association at Harvard, and -in letter after letter purposely related many incidents -of Hal's college loves and flirtations so that Helen -might know him as he knew him. He was loyal to -his friendship however, and gave also a faithful -account of Hal's excellences. There was no stint in his -praise, nor any attempt to belittle Lodge in his wife's -esteem. In such glowing terms did he sing of his -friend's many virtues that he did not have the -courage to unsay a word of it when friendship was turned -to gall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thanks to Hayward's three years in the army he -held it not a violation of their friendship that Hal -had never given him the slightest word or nod of -recognition, though the footman knew his livery had -not concealed his identity. However, they met one -evening when Hayward was off duty and in citizen's -dress. They were on the street, unattended, with no -other person in a block of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Hal!" Hayward cried with the old-time -ring in his voice, meeting Lodge squarely in front and -holding out his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lodge stopped and looked at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's Graham. Cut the stare, old chap. I'd have -sworn you knew me all these weeks, but now I see -you didn't. Have I changed so much?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I knew you," said Lodge impassively—and -turned and left him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward stared after him in speechless amazement -that fast passed into speechless wrath. A hot wave of -blood dashed a tingle of fire against every inch of his -cuticle.... In such moments men have done murder.... -He stood perfectly still till the February breeze -had cooled him off.... He was again at his normal -temperature, but the brief conflagration had brought -calamity—tragedy: it had burned out a part of his -life. In the inventory of loss were comradeship and -loyalty and faith and affection and friendliness and -inspirations and memories—burned to ashes, or -charred and blackened and wrecked. Tragedy? The -elemental tragedy of all the eternities is in the death -of a friendship.... Despite the praises he had sung, -Hayward might have told Helen about it—if the -iron had not gone so deep into his soul. Men will -parade their lighter hurts and gabble of them for -pastime or to entertain their neighbours, but -death-wounds bring the silence with them.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Helen's letters babbled on with occasional -references to Mr. Lodge, in whom from time to time she -saw exemplified one and another of the graces which -Hayward had described and which she in turn -recounted to him, as she thought, for his delectation. -After some months of this it is not to be doubted or -wondered at that Hayward took time to despise Lodge -very thoroughly and sincerely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the moment of his rebuff the footman felt -that he was not in a position to show his resentment. -He wrote to Helen that his friend did not know him -and asked her to make no mention of him to Lodge -even in the most casual, inferential or roundabout -fashion. No need to warn Helen: she had been -frightened out of her wits by an incident occurring -early after their coming from Hill-Top, and the -footman's name was never on her tongue save in -connection with his duties as a servant.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As the winter wore on and melted into spring, less -and less indeed was the thought of her husband upon -Helen's mind. Not, let it be understood, that she -loved him less than upon the day of their marriage; -but the rush of events gave her little time to think of -him. Her letters proved that she thought of him -regularly and affectionately, but proved no less that -she thought of him briefly—and yet more briefly as -time passed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Hayward, by nothing diverted from his hungry -thoughts of her, his wife's slow but palpable -withdrawing from him and from his life was an increasing -torment; and the daily sight of her, to which his -duties held him, as she attracted and received and -appropriated and enjoyed the homage and admiration -of the men who crowded about her, among whom -in high favour was Lodge, was little less than a -maddening torture. She seemed to be escaping him, and -his heart was wrung—with love—fear—jealousy—hate. -In a nervous hurry of desperation he sent -to his lawyer-politician friend in New Hampshire all -the information and recommendations he had in hand -that were to accompany his application for appointment -to a lieutenancy, and wrote to him: "Stir around -and get whatever else is necessary and fire them at -Washington. Make all haste, as you value human -life, for there is almost that dependent on this -appointment. It is no little matter of military rank or -of dollars and cents, but of life and—love."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxvii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In the months leading up to another summer -Hayward was more and more racked with impatience and -with a reckless vacillation between hope and pessimism. -The one thing that made Helen's gayeties in Washington -at all bearable to him was the promise of the -coming summer days at Hill-Top when he would get -at least an occasional chance of speaking to her and -would be rid of the sight of the army of young fellows -who were besieging her. There were heartsease and -undisturbed love in the Hill-Top prospect, and his -anticipations grew apace as the time for the migration -came near.... The day was set, and arrived. The -ex-trooper's kit was packed. He was ready, expectant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He got Helen's letter about an hour before their -train was to start. It told him good-bye. He looked -at the word with dismay. After a time he read on. -It had been decided she was not to go to Hill-Top -with her mother and the little girls that morning—she -did not know just when she would come—she -was going to New York for a short visit to Alice -Rhinelander, then she was going to Newport, after -that to Bar Harbor—she had promised Daisy Sherrol -a visit in the Catskills, and Madge Parker to join -her house-party at Lake Placid, time not yet fixed—Alice -was insisting that she come back to her for the -Cup Races in September—besides these there were a -number of other things under consideration—and -taking it all together it was quite uncertain whether -she would get home at all—she was so sorry that -she wouldn't, but he must not begrudge her the -pleasures of that season—when another came she would -probably be an old married woman, steady and settled -down—he would please look carefully after mamma -and Katherine and May—and with her love she told -him again good-bye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward went to Hill-Top and performed his service -admirably as usual: but all the spring and snap -were taken out of him. The days were monotonous -in their lack of diverting occupation and he had much -time to sit still and hold his hands—and think of his -wife. But that would not do at all. He tried not to -do so much of it. He wrote to his New Hampshire -lawyer and had forwarded to him at Hill-Top all the -papers relating to his commission, and filled out his -spare time for several days in reviewing these -momentous documents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was indeed a large and various collection of -them. He and his friend had pulled many -wires—political, personal, military and other. Beginning -with a New Hampshire Senator and local politicians, -up through army officers and men personally notable -to the President of Harvard, from one or another he -had drawn largely or moderately of the ammunition -with which to wage his battle. Half of these did not -know the use he intended to make of their commendations, -but they were all sincerely given.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he had made out a strong case. Such a forcible -one in truth that, barring the handicap of his -colour, he would win hands down. A man of his -intelligence could not but know that it was a strong -case, stronger indeed than he had dared to hope for. -In the contemplation of it he was elated. The -colouring of his outlook was roseate with promise. In -that outlook he saw Helen </span><em class="italics">coming toward him</em><span>, not -going away as she had been all these months. With -his commission was she coming, and his commission -was coming so fast, so fast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He felt that his appeal was irresistible, and his -spirit was on a high wave of assurance. So high, -indeed, that he decided to omit the personal claim upon -the President's gratitude. He had felt for some time -that perhaps that would not be altogether fair.... -He bundled up the papers along with his final -suggestions and sent them back to his lawyer with orders -to lick them into shape and forward them to the -President without another minute's delay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wrote to Helen of the imminence of the crisis -in their affairs, but of doubt or apprehension he did -not speak. He told her of his decision not to appeal -to her father's sense of personal obligation. He -exulted in his approaching triumph as if he had -already apprehended and went into rhapsodies about the -double prize it would bring to him: the shoulder-straps -and her: a gentleman's work in serving the -flag, and a gentleman's supremest guerdon—her love -openly confessed and without reserve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen's answer was brief but warmly sympathetic. -She applauded his purpose to win on merit alone. -His decision only confirmed her estimate of him. -Her faith in his winning was fixed. A tender line -closed the missive, and a laughing postscript besought -him not to believe the half he saw in the papers about -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ah, the postscript! It suggested a thing which -Hayward had not thought of before. He began to -read the society notes in the metropolitan dailies, with -special reference to Newport and Bar Harbor gossip, -and with more especial reference to Miss Helen -Phillips' doings thereat. He bought one or another of -the papers at the village every day, and studied them -religiously. In the very first was the interesting item -that Mr. Harry Lodge was spending a time at -Newport. So was Helen, as Hayward knew, though that -paper did not say so. But the next day's issue did: -and he began to exercise his brain with a continuous -problem of its own devising. The problem was to -figure out in his imagination the details of Helen's -daily life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some days the papers said nothing of her, and then -there would be so much that her husband resented -the intrusion upon the right of privacy which the -correspondents so ruthlessly invaded,—but he -welcomed the news of her. The President's daughter -was a public personage, and the great newspapers did -not hesitate to treat her as such. Her comings and -goings, her graces and beauty, her dresses and dances, -her thoughts and her tastes, her wit and her charm -were never-ending sources of supply for the bright -young men who were paid by the column for their -"stuff." Hayward read every word of it—though -a Harvard man ought to have had more sense: and -Mr. Lodge began to figure more and more largely in -"the conditions of the problem."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward made no allowance for reportorial zeal -or mendacity, the first always much, and the last, -while unusual, always possible. The young -gentlemen furnished him enough to think about, and his -imagination began to add enough, and more than -enough, to worry about. When imagination sets out -to go wrong it invariably goes badly wrong, for the -reason that it plays a game without a limit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, the footman's imaginings were not -entirely without provocation. As the days passed, -Helen's letters became mere scraps, generally tender, -sometimes quite tender, but hurried, snatchy, with -long silences between. To supply the lack of authentic -information of her, her husband studied more assiduously -the newspaper columns: and the poisoned tooth -of jealousy struck deeper into his heart. At last, -between Helen's indifference and the nagging -news-notes, he could not endure it longer. He wrote her a -protest hot with the fever of heart-burning and of -outraged love. He re-read that letter a dozen times in -indecision—and trembled as he dropped it in the -box.... Nervously he waited for an answer,—and -yet he waited.... The silence grew ominous.... -His fears grew also. But why, thought he, should -he fear? She was his wife, and he had the right to -protest.... His anger rose at her contemptuous -disregard of him: his anger—and his fear. He -knew she was bound to him past undoing. Nevertheless, -his fears did abide and thicken, while the summer -and the silence drew along slowly hand in hand.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>September had come, bringing yet no letter from -his wife to fetch the confusion of Hayward's fear, -his resentment, his love and his jealousy to something -of peaceful order. His spirit was already beset with -wild imaginings and desire, when one day he opened -a </span><em class="italics">Journal</em><span> to read:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>ROMANCE IN HIGH PLACES</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">The President's Daughter, Besought -<br />By Eligibles of Many Lands, Will -<br />Wed An American Citizen -<br />Superb American Beauty Follows Her Heart -<br />Engagement of Miss Helen Phillips and Mr. Harry -<br />Lodge</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Hayward sat down on the first thing that offered -itself. He felt just a little uncertain about standing -up. He read the staring headlines over again, and, -hot and cold by turns, plunged into the details of this -High Romance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unbelievable? Beyond doubt. Unthinkable even—to -him who knew. But the fabrication artist hammered -his brain and heart with such a mass of detail, -with such a crushing tone of assuredness and -authority, that the footman's thoughts and beliefs were -pounded into stupefaction and he knew neither what -to think nor what to believe. His brain jumped to -recall the details of their marriage, in fearful search -of a possible defect or omission which might vitiate -it. It had been very hurriedly done, all superfluities -were omitted, but the officer had assured him that they -were hard and fast man and wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had Helen discovered a flaw in the contract? And -would she evade it thus? ... When that last -question struck his brain, a dozen passions swarmed to -fight within his heart: love, jealousy, fear, defiance. -Shaking with the tumult of them all, he wrote to -Helen again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has been six long weeks since you received my -last letter. Not a word has come to me in answer till -this, to-day:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(Here he pasted in the headlines clipped from the -</span><em class="italics">Journal</em><span>.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this your reply? If it is, I swear to you it shall -not be. That insufferable cad cannot live upon the -earth to take you from me. I will snuff his contemptible -life out rather. You know that you are mine—wife—by -every vow and promise which the law -prescribes. It is incredible that you should ignore -your troth plighted to me. It is impossible for you -to break it in this fashion. I would not have believed -you could be a fickle and unfaithful Helen. I do not -believe it. It is a lie. Write and tell me it is a lie. -Write quickly for the love of God. No, no, you need -not write. It is false. I know it is false—for you -cannot be false.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But oh my Helen, why did you not listen to me? -Why did you, a wedded wife, persist in receiving -attentions from men, from this one man in particular, -the most contemptibly caddish creature among all your -admirers? I have deplored your unrestraint but I -resent it that </span><em class="italics">Lodge</em><span> should have found such special -favour at your hands as to give currency to this -report. He is unutterably unworthy. I beseech you by -the love I shall dare to believe is mine until you tell -me I have lost it to conduct yourself so that such -lies as this shall not be printed. Think what will be -said of your gayeties when it is announced that you -have been married a year. I love you, wildly, madly, -as this incoherent letter shows. You have told me -that your love is mine and I believe it. Forgive me -and write to me, queen of my heart. I am starving -for lack of the love which is already my own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen's reply to that letter came quickly enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I refer you to yesterday's papers," it said icily, -"for my answer to your ravings about that absurd -newspaper story. Your jealousy is insulting, and -your aspersions of Mr. Lodge are inexplicable. He -is everything that is honourable, and it is only your -frenzied attack upon him that is 'unutterably -unworthy.' I sincerely regret that I was so foolish as -to marry you when I did. You are unreasonably -exacting and I will not be bound by it. You have no -right to make demands of me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward had the sensation of being struck in the -face. If he had been disturbed with vague doubts -theretofore, he was now harassed by very certain and -lively fear. The "yesterday's papers" to which -Helen referred him had had a very explicit denial of -the engagement, and Helen's sharp reply admitted her -marriage to him; but the last declarations of her -letter were ambiguous and defiant, and his heart sank -when he remembered that marriages were often -annulled, and that, even though the courts might not -give freedom, there was no way to compel a wife to -live with her husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every manner of possibility and expedient whirled -round and round in his brain until his thoughts were -an almost insane jumble of fear, indecision and wrath. -Finally out of the travail of his hopelessness and -confusion of ideas there rose his fighting spirit and was -born the mighty oath he swore, that she was his, he -must have her, and in spite of the world, flesh and -the devil, by God, he would have her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One never-to-be-forgotten night was the first he -spent after receiving Helen's letter: a nightmare from -his lying down until the dawn. A tumult of shifting -phantasms, disordered, chaotic, terrible, assailed him -with incessant horrors the night long, while through -it all there ran as a continuing and connecting tragedy -his struggle to possess himself of Helen. In his wild -dreams she was sometimes his and again escaping -him; but always when he held her it was by right of -might. A time he was clasping her close and warm -in his arms, but fainting and unconscious, as he ran -with her down Pennsylvania Avenue, Lodge, Rutledge, -Phillips and an angry horde in hot pursuit. Again, -he was dragging her through a never-ending swamp, -limp and lifeless, one side of her face a-drip with -blood. With a blood-stained axe he was fighting a -furious, breath-spent way through vines and tangled -undergrowth, the while there sounded in his ears the -lone-drawn baying of hounds upon his track.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From that bed of horrors he sprang with relief before -the first light in the east. He was glad just to be -awake and he felt as if he wished never to close his -eyes again.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxviii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"You will have Shortman and the landau at the -door at ten o'clock," said Mrs. Phillips to Hayward -when he appeared for duty that morning. Shortman -was the coachman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the servants appeared at ten for orders they -were told that they should proceed to Cahudaga and -bring back with them in the afternoon Miss Helen -and two friends.... Shortman, stolid and indifferent -as he usually was, was yet interested to note that -he could not understand some of the things the -footman said and did on that ride to Cahudaga.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alice Rhinelander's sudden indisposition forbade -her to attempt the long drive to Hill-Top, and Lucile -Hammersley, of course, could not leave her guest. -As Helen was to have but one day at home, however, -she decided to go alone, and leave the two others to -follow her on the morrow. As it was, she deferred -starting till the latest possible moment. A threatening -sky, splashed with sunshine but brushed with the -fleeting clouds and winds of the close-coming equinox, -was Mr. Hammersley's pretext for insisting that she -also remain over night; but a childish desire to go -home now that she was near it impelled her to tear -herself away at the last minute for the solitary drive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She spoke pleasantly to Shortman and Hayward -when she came out to get in the carriage, and -Hayward thought that her perfect composure in what -seemed to him a tense situation was marvellous to -behold. At the first sight of her glorious beauty he had -an impulse to prostrate himself in adoration, but that -something of the grand lady which she had unconsciously -taken on held him stiffly to his character, if -nothing else had done so. He held open the door for -her, pushed her skirt clear—his pulses gone wild at -the touch of it—shut her in securely, climbed to his -seat beside Shortman and faced steadily to the front. -He was afraid to seek a personal look from Helen's -eyes. She, looking upon his broad back, erect and flat, -strong in every line, did not guess the storm that was -shaking him within. She was no little surprised at -the grip he had on himself, and really indulged in -some admiration of his indifferent air in what had -been to her notion, also, a rather tense situation—for -him. Her father's daughter, she had never met or -imagined the situation to which she would not be -equal...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Hayward's spirit was being storm-swept, a -literal tempest was driving down upon them. They -were less than half-way home and on a lonely and -unpeopled part of their road when the storm fell. The -men and Helen, too, had ascribed the increasing -darkness to the fast-coming nightfall, for the air about -them was still and warm, and the sun had gone some -time before behind a bank of low-lying clouds. A -lightning-flash was the first herald of danger; and -drive then as Shortman might, it was a losing race.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The storm seemed disposed to play cat-and-mouse -with them. Hurrying over them in scurrying clouds -darker and blacker growing, it only watched the -hard-driven horses, nor so much as blew a breath upon -them.... Mocking them now, it blew a puff, puff—and -again was silence. As if to incite them to -more amusing endeavours, along with another puff it -threw at them a capful of giant rain-drops: and again -drew off from the game to watch them run with fright.... -Next came a brilliant sheet of lightning, -revealing the cavernous furrows and writhing convulsions -on the storm-god's front—but not the </span><em class="italics">sound</em><span> of -thunder nor the jarring shock of the riving bolt—that -would be carrying the joke with these scared and -fleeing pigmies too far.... Another awful, mocking -grimace of the storm, and then another. After -each, the darkness coming like a down-flung blanket -closer and closer to envelop the earth. And through -it all, that awful silent stillness, broken so far only -by the clatter of those sportive raindrops and the -rustle of the contemptuous puffs.... But the giant -hadn't time to play with children: Crash, ROAR—the -hurricane struck the hapless carriage!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shortman was driving wildly to reach a little -farmhouse two miles yet ahead, the first hope of shelter. -In the sheets of light his eyes swept the ill-kept road -to fix his course, and in the inky blackness following -he held to it in desperate and unslacking haste till -another flash revealed it further to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thundering wind mauled and pummelled them. -It shook and tore them. It shook and tore the very -earth as they plunged fearfully forward through the -terrible light and the awful darkness. In the deafening, -blinding roar and rush, sight and hearing were -pounded almost into insensibility and Helen tried to -cry out to the swaying figures on the driver's -seat—but screamed instead in terror as calamity caught -them. Crack! </span><em class="italics">Crash</em><span>! CRUSH!—and woman, men, -horses and carriage were buried under a down-coming -treetop.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Helen felt she had not lost consciousness, but -she did not know. Hayward was struggling to release -her from the wrecked landau. He was calling to her, -screaming rather,—for the shrieking wind was raging -as if with the taste of blood. She could see him -plainly as he fought through the threshing branches -of the giant oak that had smashed them. The light -which revealed him to her was continuous, but -flashing and dancing. She looked to see whence it came, -and her blood froze as she saw the sputtering end of -an electric transmission cable which the falling forest -monarch had broken and carried down. At the foot -of Niagara were mighty turbines a-whirl which sent -the deadly current to threaten and to slay. Men had -intended it for works of peace and industry in lake -villages, but Nature had stepped in to reclaim it as -one of her own cataclysmic forces, and Niagara's -rioting waters, unwitting and uncaring, sent it just as -merrily and as mightily to works of death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward well knew that death was in the touch of -that whipping wire, tangled in boughs beaten and -lashed by the demoniac winds: but Helen was in -danger, and he hesitated not to come to her. After -a struggle that tested muscle as well as courage, he -dragged her free and started to carry her up the -roadside bank to a small hut or shack which the light -revealed. Helen shook herself from his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is Shortman?" she cried against the tempest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward pointed to the wrecked carriage. As she -looked, one of the horses, uttering a cry and trying -to rise, was flicked on the head by the end of the -hissing wire, and, in a flash of greenish-blue flame, -sank down and was still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Help Shortman!" Helen cried again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At her command Hayward plunged into the tree-top -and after a longer struggle than had been necessary -in rescuing Helen, he pulled the coachman out -and laid him limp at his wife's feet. He understood -rather than heard the question she asked. He nodded -his head in affirmative answer, and said, as if talking -to himself:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dead, Miss Helen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had not been more than two minutes since the -fury of the storm broke upon them. The rain-drops, -which had been desultory, now came down in torrents. -Hayward turned toward his wife. She was sinking -trembling to the road. He caught her up and hurried -her to the hut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their refuge was quite small, but afforded shelter -from the downpour of water. It was a little patched-up -affair that had been used by the labourers who -constructed the electric transmission line, and was without -opening except the door, there being no shutter to -that. A rude table of rough planks built against the -wall was its only furnishing. What had been a small -bench was broken up and useless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward held Helen in his arms while he inventoried -the contents in the uncertain light, but at her -first movement to free herself from his embrace he -gently seated her on the little table and stood beside -her at the end of it. She was faint with horror and -fright and, closing her eyes, sank back against the wall -for support: while the wind-driven torrent howled -and surged past the door and the fierce but unspeaking -lightning lit up the awful night.... Helen was -getting some sort of grip on her nerves again when, -turning toward the door, in the pallid light she had a -vision of the ghastly face lying in the road below them. -She shuddered—the faintness was overmastering—and -toppled unconscious against her husband's arm. -He caught her tenderly, not knowing she had lost -consciousness, and, putting his arm around her, drew -her softly and closely to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a long time he stood thus in silence, fearing -that speech might break the spell. At last he spoke -to her, but she did not answer. He ascribed her -silence to fright, and with gentle and reassuring words -essayed to compose her fears. He took note of her -failure to speak to him: but she was submissive to -his caresses, and he was well content with that. At -her non-resistance he became more affectionate in his -tendernesses, and was lost in the ecstasy of holding -her to his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gone—far removed—from him was the thought -of the storm-riven night. An end, he exulted, to -nightmares in which she was fleeing from him. His -wife was in his arms at last! The silent modesty with -which she had committed herself to him was eloquent -of her heart's love and faithfulness:—and his pulses -sang with joy despite the tragedy that had befallen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wind and rain were slackening, but the -lightning played on. With a sigh and shiver Helen -stirred, and pushed feebly away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where am I? Where are we?" she asked confusedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About two miles and a half from the Lake -Drive," Hayward answered, "about four miles from -home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what are we doing here? How did we get here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward started. In heaven's name, her mind was -not unsettled!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The wreck—I carried you in here out of the storm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh—yes,—now I remember," Helen said, leaning -back against the wall and putting her hands before -her eyes as if to shut out memory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a flash Hayward was in the clutch of the old -terror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She did not know, then," he thought. "She was -unconscious, and did not give herself to me." Again -he was on the rack, all his doubts and fears and -jealousies a-surge, but maddened and fired by the -memory, the lingering perfume, of her smooth cheek and -warm lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long must we stay here?" Helen asked, -starting up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Until the storm is over, at the least. They may -send after us when we do not arrive on time. I -cannot leave you here, or I would go after help now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! you must not leave me here! We will wait -till help comes or until—I can go with you. Do you -think it will be long?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward went to the little door and surveyed the -heavens.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Another storm seems to be headed this way," he -said. "If that strikes us there's no telling when we -will get away. We are perfectly safe here, however. -This cabin is built back against the hill and there are -no trees near enough to fall on us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Were you hurt?" asked Helen abruptly, for the -first time thinking of the dangers they had gone -through as dangers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing worth reporting," said Hayward in order -to allay her fears. It was a lie well told, for he had -a decidedly caved-in feeling about his ribs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You saved my life again—this time at risk of -your own. When the carriage was crushed I thought -that I—oh, it is too horrible!" She trembled -violently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward saw that he must divert her thoughts -from this direful night. He was much desirous of -discussing other matters anyway. After a silent -minute he began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your return was quite unexpected to—us," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and a very short visit I'm to make as it is. -I leave again day after to-morrow morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped and apparently did not care to say more -of herself—or of her plans.... Hayward was of -a different mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You didn't say anything of this visit in your last -letter," he ventured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I had not decided on it then." ... Silence -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Helen, why did you write me that letter?" Hayward -squared himself for battle and fired the first shot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I only answered yours—your two letters, rather. -You insisted on making your—demands, and I simply -told you what I thought. You also attacked one -of my friends, and I defended him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen was not versed in the art of indirection or -evasion. Hayward was very thankful for that. It -made the issue clear, and made it quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As for your friend," said Hayward, "your defence -of him is without knowledge—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As your attack upon him was without justice," -Helen interrupted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I said he was a contemptible cad, and I stand -ready to prove it. You may be the judge of it. He -was my friend at college, and our relations were of -such intimacy as I have told you about, and yet, -knowing me full well, he refused to know me in Washington, -or to shake hands with me, or to speak to me, even."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps he did not remember you. Remember it -has been five or six—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm telling you he did know me. He admitted it—in -order that his affront might be unequivocal. I -tell you he's a cad, a damnable cad, and I want you -to cut him off your list. Promise me that you will -have nothing more to do with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man in his half-demand, half-plea, put out his -arm toward her to reinforce his appeal with a caress, -but his wife drew away from him and warded off his -hand as she spoke to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she cried, "I cannot believe it. There must -be some explanation—I cannot do it—I'm to be one -of his automobile party next Thursday.... Don't—don't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! May I not kiss you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no. Not—not now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you are my wife—I have the right to kiss you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have no right," said Helen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward grew suddenly cold with passion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have every right—more right than that -contemptible Lodge has to put his arm around you in -the dance!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He at least has my permission," Helen replied -spiritedly. But she would not have provoked him -perhaps if she had known of the fever rising in his -blood for all these months.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your permission, has he! And I am to beg for -rights that are mine—and be refused!" His voice -rose in anger with the roar and rush of the -new-coming storm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are mine!" he screamed. "I forbid you to -meet him again! No man shall take you from me! -I love you—I love you—-and I will kill any man -who tries to rob me of you! Helen, Helen, tell me -you are mine—mine now! Not that you will be -mine when I win my commission, but that you are -already mine—</span><em class="italics">mine now</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen turned away from him, terrified by his -violence of speech. The man's every passion went wild -as he read refusal in her movement. Only for a -moment does she look away, however. In that -instant she sees again the dead coachman, prone and -ghastly as before, but with the end of that blazing -wire lying against the back of his head, from which -rises the vapour of burning flesh. Sickened with -horror she turns to Hayward and reaches out her hand -for his support. He clutches her passionately. His -blood rushes to his heart in a flood—and then stands -still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is surrender," he thinks,—and his veins -are aflame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen is quiescent in his arms for a short space -and suffers his caresses. Suddenly startled, she looks -at his face. In a flash of light she sees it—distorted! -With a shriek of terror she wildly tries to push him -from her: but the demon of the blood of Guinea -Gumbo is pitiless, and against the fury of it, as of the -storm, she fights and cries—in vain.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxix"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>With his editorial duties and with the plans of his -campaign for Mr. Killam's seat in the Senate, Evans -Rutledge was as busy a man as Washington knew. -However, he dropped his work long enough to attend -upon Lola DeVale's marriage. He was no little -surprised when Oliver Hazard asked him to stand by at -his wedding. He was on friendly terms with the bride—and -with Hazard, too, for that matter; but he did -not know the strength and sincerity of Lola DeVale's -friendship for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must have Mr. Rutledge," she had said to -Hazard when they were choosing their attendants; -"and he shall be paired with Elise. I have set my -heart on that match, for if it fails I have been kissed -for nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly we'll have him if you wish. He's a -great fellow, I think, and he'll be a winner all right, -don't worry yourself. He'll win out on naked luck, -for any man who can just stumble along and kiss you -by mistake is evidently a special protégé of the -gods." ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The score or more of young people in the bridal -party met at Grace Church on the afternoon before -the event to get the details of their marching and -countermarching in order. Lola was there to overlook -putting them through their paces, but she left the -details of straightening out the chattering, rollicking -bridesmaids and groomsmen to Elise and Hazard. -Rutledge soon learned his role and stood to it like a -schoolboy when he was ordered, but he spent most of -the time in sympathetic talk with the bride-to-be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night when the other girls who filled the house -were scattered to their rooms and Elise and Lola were -snuggled up in bed, Lola put her arm around her -friend and began to say what was on her mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it's very rude to refuse to answer a civil -question, don't you, Elise?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was thinking of something else, but she heard -enough of what Lola said to answer "yes" in an -absent-minded way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would be so with any question. But if it -was about a matter of importance the refusal to -answer would be more than rude, it would -be—exasperating, don't you think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you talking about?" Elise asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if it were a matter of the very greatest -importance," Lola continued, "and by every right and -custom an answer of some sort was due, and one was -flatly told there was </span><em class="italics">no answer</em><span>, then such unpardonable -rudeness should be resented, and self-respect -would </span><em class="italics">demand</em><span> that the question be not repeated."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lola DeVale," said Elise, turning to face her, -"in the name of sense, have you gone daffy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I agree with Mr. Rutledge," said Lola in the same -monotone, as she in turn faced away from Elise, -"self-respect forbids."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here," exclaimed Elise, "turn back over here -and say all that again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haven't time," said Lola with a yawn. "I must -be getting my beauty-sleep. Good night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was quiet half a minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of all the silly people!"—she stirred Lola up -with a poke in the ribs—"when did he tell you that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not divulging any confidences," said Lola.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what, pray, are you divulging?" asked Elise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My opinion that a civil question demands an -answer of some sort—a good round 'no,' if nothing -else—not the dismissal one gives a telegraph -messenger."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There you go again—-and I don't understand; -but you said something of 'self-respect'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad he has it. A man's not made for a -woman to wipe her feet on, even if he does love her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For goodness sake, Lola, quit making riddles. -Just what do you think you are talking about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean to tell me," demanded Lola, turning -toward her, "that Mr. Rutledge did not ask you -to marry him and that you didn't tell him there was -</span><em class="italics">no answer</em><span>,—that you didn't treat him with contempt, -with indifference, with just about as much consideration -as you would a clerk who gave you a hand-bill of -a cut-price sale? There now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that's the cause of all this—this </span><em class="italics">self-respect</em><span>, -the reason for all this religious silence of his -lips—while his eyes work overtime? I thought it was -becau—that it—that there was really something; -and is </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> all!" Elise laughed merrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it's shameful, myself!" said Lola severely. -"I glory in his resentment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never noticed any resentment, and—</span><em class="italics">I did -not treat him so</em><span>," replied the quick-witted Elise -combatively. Quietly her heart laughed on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You deny it?" asked Lola.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I deny it. He did not ask me to marry him. -He simply told me—quite abruptly—that he loved -me, and, after some time, asked me for my answer. -What was I to answer? When there is no question -there can be no answer. So I told him there was </span><em class="italics">no -answer</em><span>. If a man will insist upon an answer he must -not be so stupid as to forget to put a question."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise chuckled inwardly as she constructed this -specious defence. She was in very good humour with -herself,—and with Lola.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But promise me," she hurried on to say, "that -you will not intimate to Mr. Rutledge that it is his -stupidity that has swelled his bump of self-respect for -these last four years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola demurred to this form of statement: bless her, -she was a loyal friend. But Elise insisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a word to Mr. Rutledge! Let him discover -his mistakes unaided. Promise me. </span><em class="italics">Promise</em><span>," she -demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola promised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cross your heart and hope you may die," Elise -added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola laughingly went through these binding formalities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now the goblins will get you if you ever tell him -and besides that I would know it at once. If you do -I'll send him packing for good and all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola protested that she would leave Mr. Rutledge -entirely to his own devices,—and she kept her -promise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola had insisted on retiring early for a good -night's rest, but it was long after midnight before she -and her school-day chum grew sleepy over their -confidences. Along at the last Elise pressed her face -down in the pillow beside Lola's cheek and whispered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Honey, if it wasn't very dark and our last night -together I couldn't tell you; but do you know if -Mr. Rutledge were to ask me to marry him to-morrow I -would have to tell him there was no answer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola lay still till she caught the meaning of this -confession. Then she softly kissed Elise good-night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let your heart decide, dearest," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the wedding breakfast next morning, and at the -church at noon, Rutledge was bewildered by the -softness, the gentleness of Elise's manner toward him. -There was nothing of the cold brilliance, nor of the -warm combativeness, nor of the lukewarm indifference -of her moods for such a long time past. Like the -breath of long forgotten summers, of one particular -halcyon summer, was her simple-hearted friendliness -on that day. He harked back by a conscious effort to -keep in touch with his grievance, but it seemed to be -eluding his grasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a great part of five hours on the train returning -to Washington he sat beside her and steadily forgot -everything that had come to pass since the days -when he first knew and loved this adorable girl. His -resentment and his resolutions were toppling and falling, -despite his efforts at reserve in his few scattering -lucid intervals of "self-respect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise, outrageously well-informed of the reasons -and resources and weaknesses of his resistance, almost -laughed outright at the ease with which she scattered -his forces and at his spasmodic attempts to regather -them. She recalled the rigour of her treatment of -him, the contempt she had had for the quality of his -love, the apparent heartless lack of appreciation of his -championship of her name in the Smith affair: and -she was of a mind to make amends. In making -amends she tore Rutledge's resentment and "self-respect" -to tatters, and set his love a-fire. She really -did not intend to overdo it. She sincerely wished only -to make amends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he turned to her with a look which scared -her. She saw that the last shred of his "self-respect" -was gone, and that only the crowded car prevented a -precipitate, outspoken surrender. She felt very -generous toward that "self-respect" now that it was -defeated. She did not care to humiliate it. She was -also in a temper to be mischievous and a mite reckless. -And, further, she was not ready to have Rutledge -putting any questions. As the train was rolling under -the shed at Washington she said to him in the very -friendliest and most serious way:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Rutledge, it seems that you are under the -delusion that once upon a time you asked me a -question which has never been answered. In order that I -may not appear rude or unappreciative I will say that -my answer to that question would have been 'no.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she left him to think over that.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxx"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On the day that Congress convened after the -Christmas holidays President Phillips sent to the -Senate, among other nominations, that of John -H. Graham to be a second lieutenant of cavalry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward had been for a long time unhappy, -depressed, apprehensive of failure. That his name had -not been among those submitted at the beginning of -the session in December had almost assured his defeat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All his attempts at communication with Helen since -the night of the storm had been met with an accusing -silence. Her pale face, which had not regained its -colour for weeks, was always averted, and by no trick -or chance, by no wild torrent of self-denunciation, -nor heart-moving prayer for pardon, nor protestations -of love, nor dumb humility of sorrow in his eyes or -attitude, could she be brought to look upon him. -Neither had she written a line in answer to all his -letters of pleading and repentance. True, he had his -fiery moments of self-assertion and desperate resolves, -and they had fought self-revilings for possession of -his soul in many an hour since that wild night, but he -crushed them under heel within his heart, and ever -wrote contritely to his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For several days after his nomination went to the -Senate he waited in hope to receive Helen's congratulations. -It had meant so much to them. With a last -remnant of hope he wrote to her of it. If that would -not break the silence he was undone. At the end of -the letter he added in most abject contrition:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would joyfully die to atone. My life awaits -your command."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The silence was not broken.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Miss Lily Porter's eyes had not fallen on Hayward -since his return from Hill-Top. When she saw in the -papers that his nomination was before the Senate she -hesitated not to write to him to come to see her. On -his first night off, Hayward went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If ever a man was pursued by a woman the White -House footman was that man. He saw the game -ahead of him before he had been five minutes within -the door. A proposal was expected of him. Clearly, -it was expected that evening. Hayward was in a -frame of mind to welcome the diversion. He had no -idea of making the proposal, of course, but he was -careless enough of what should happen to him to be -quite willing to give Miss Porter the worth of her -trouble in the way of mild excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lily opened up the subject with her congratulations: -and the game was on. Up and down, back and -forth, round and round the field of conversation she -chased the quick-tongued, nimble-witted young fellow -in her effort to coax, persuade, lead, drive, push him -into the net. The young man was entertaining, but -elusive. He was gallant, admiring, soft-spoken, -confiding—but there was no way of bringing him to -book. The girl took another tack. She went to the -piano and sang for him. She sang for him at first, -many of the ballads and one thing and another that -he formerly had delighted in. Then she sang to him. -Hayward leaned against the piano and listened with a -very lively appreciation. Music had a power for him -where many other things would fail, and the music -in Lily Porter's throat was enough to enthrall even -though he were deaf to the song in her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henry Porter was caught by the real note in his -daughter's voice as he passed the door, and, stopping -where he could see as well as hear, he was enlightened -by the tale her face was telling. He was mad all over -in a minute, and he made short work of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Git out of my house," he blurted out at Hayward -as he stalked angrily into the midst of Lily's melodious -love-making. "I tol' you once I didn' want any -footman callin' on my daughter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, papa! What do you mean?" Lily cried, -springing up from the piano.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean git out when I say git out!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait a moment, Mr. Hayward," Lily called to -the footman, who, chin in air, was leaving the room, -truth to tell, no little relieved at this complete solution -of what was fast becoming an embarrassing situation -for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No use to wait. Move on!" the father growled, -placing himself across the door to prevent Lily's -following her caller. Upon her attempt to push by him -he caught her and shoved her into a chair. As the -outer door closed with a very modest and well-mannered -snap, he released his hold upon her arm. He -was yet in a fury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you've lied to me! Thought you could fool -your ol' daddy! But I guess not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't lied to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have! You tol' me you were goin' to marry -a military man, and here you are, dead gone on this -footman—and no use to deny out of it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lily didn't attempt to deny it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Umhuh, I knew it! Already promised him, ain't -yuh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No denial of that either, to her father's consternation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! And you a-tellin' me all the time you -were goin' to marry a military man! You lyin' -huzzy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he's a military man—he's the John -H. Graham whose commission is before the -Senate—now I hope you are satisfied!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henry Porter stopped his stamping about and -looked at his daughter several seconds in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's—he's who?" he asked in astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's the same John H. Graham you were reading -about in the </span><em class="italics">Post</em><span> this morning—the man the -President has appointed a lieutenant in the cavalry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But his name's not Graham."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His name </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> Graham—John Hayward Graham—Lieutenant -John Hayward Graham when the Senate confirms it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Henry looked a little bit nonplussed. His -daughter took courage. She jumped up and grabbed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on right now and write him an apology, -and send it so that it will get to his rooms by the time -he does!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Henry demurred. His dignity was a very real -thing—as hard and substantial as his dollars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, no. Wait awhile. Le's think about it. -No use to be in a hurry. He'll come back agin. What -did he go sneakin' roun' here without his name for -if he wanted people to treat him right? A man's got -no business monkeyin' with his name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> write him an apology, papa. You -just must!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, mebbe I will. But I'll wait till to-morrer. -Better wait till the Senate confirms him though, -and be certain about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no! That would </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> do. It would be too -plain,"—and Lily went into a long disquisition to -fetch her hard-headed old daddy to her way of -thinking. He showed some signs of relenting but could -not be persuaded that night. When the morning came -it took all her powers to push him to the point of -sending a suitable note to Hayward: but she -accomplished it. Hayward's stinging, sarcastic, withering -reply was not written till late in the afternoon, and -in the footman's agitation over other concerns was not -mailed till his mother found it in his room on the day -after that. By the time Mr. Henry Porter received -it, other events had come to pass that gave it some -emphasis....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Hayward Graham returned to his room after -his dismissal from Porter's house he found a letter -addressed to him in his wife's writing. He tore it -open hungrily.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"You say you would joyfully die to atone. That -would be the very best thing you could do—the only -fitting thing you could do.—H."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A grim smile lighted the man's face. At the -moment the blood of some long-dead cavalier ancestor -splashed through his heart, and he wrote the brief -reply.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Your wish is law, and shall be obeyed. Grant -me one day to put my house in order."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Her maid handed the message to Helen before she -was out of bed the next morning. The girl read it, -caught its meaning, and shook with an ague of fear. -Her love for her husband, outraged and stricken, may -not have been dead—for who shall speak the last -word for a woman's heart?—and her tender soul -recoiled at the murder so calmly forespoken: and -yet neither of these impulses was elemental in her -agony of terror. Her impetuous letter of the day -before, breaking a silence she had sworn to keep, -was not intended as a reply to anything that Hayward -had written. It was but a wild protest against -the new-born realization that her situation was -tragic, and could not be ignored nor long -concealed. She had not meant to suggest or to counsel -death, but to rail against life. The possibility of -his taking-off had not occurred to her. His letter -terrified her! Death!—her husband's death? It -was the one thing that must </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> be! When she had -read his words, her blood was ice. "No! No!" her -teeth chattered as she dressed, "he must not, he must -not!" In the nervousness, the weakness, the faintness, -the sickness into which fevered meditations upon the -day-old revelation had shaken her, she did not think -to question the sincerity of Hayward's purpose at -self-destruction. The calamity was imminent—and -trebly calamitous. The chill of more than death was -upon her. When she had dressed she dashed off a -hurried scrawl.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"No, no, no. I did not mean that. It is not my -wish that you destroy yourself. You must not. </span><em class="italics">You -must not</em><span>! I need you—above everything I </span><em class="italics">need -you</em><span>. If you die I am undone! Where is our marriage -certificate? Or was there one? And who was that -witness? Do not die, do not die. As you love me -</span><em class="italics">do not die</em><span>!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She carefully arranged every detail of her toilet, -pinched her pale cheeks into something of pink, put on -her morning smile, and, with a very conscious effort -at lightness of manner, tripped out into the hall and -down the stairs. She knew the very spot on which -she would see her husband standing. With a -round-about journey she approached it. He was not there. -She laughed nervously, and with an aimless air, but -a faster thumping heart, sought him at another haunt. -Failure. And failure again. She went to breakfast, -and displayed a lack of appetite and a tendency to -hysterics. After breakfast she lingered down-stairs -on every conceivable pretext, and journeyed from one -end of the house to the other many times and again. -At last when her nerves could not stand the strain a -second longer she asked the coachman, who had driven -the carriage to the door, where Hayward was. She -felt that there was a full confession in the tones of -her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hayward asked for a day off this mornin', mum. -He didn't come. Just telephoned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen felt the tension of her nerves snap. She -hurried to her room, suppressing fairly by force an -impulse to scream, and locking the door, threw herself -across the bed. There for three hours, pleading a -headache and denying admittance to all who knocked, -she cowered before the thoughts of her seething -brain—and suffered torment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Along about two o'clock she sprang up suddenly and -turned out of her trunk all of her husband's letters and -began feverishly to search for one she remembered -written long ago which by chance contained the street -number of his lodgings. She was nearly an hour -finding it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again she went through the womanly process of -making herself presentable, and sauntered freshly -forth in quest of the post office and a special delivery -stamp. With an added prayer that he relieve her -suspense quickly, she dropped her agonized note into the -box under the hurry postage. Having thus done all -that was possible to save her husband's life—and her -own—she went back to her bed in collapse, and -waited for the night-fall as one, hoping for a reprieve, -who must die at sunset.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Helen waited in vain for a word from her -husband. Her letter did not come to his hand. She -tossed in agonized suspense through the long -hours—through the snail-paced minutes—through the -dragging, tortured moments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise came in to see her. Helen gave the first -explanation of her indisposition that came to mind, and -declined all ministrations. Her mother came, and she -would have dismissed her as briefly had not -Mrs. Phillips asserted authority and ordered her into bed -and suggested calling the family physician. At this -intimation Helen demurred. She felt that she would -suffocate if she were to be tucked up and made to lie -quiet, with the doctor fingering her pulse and talking -of sleeping potions while her soul was throbbing in -such a frenzy of horror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To escape from them and from herself, she suddenly -sat up and announced her intention of attending -the dancing party which Elise was giving for the -evening. There was a vigorous opposition to this -procedure by both her mother and Elise, and by her -father also, who had come in to have a look at her: -but she outwilled them all.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Elise's dancing party was an affair to be -remembered—an affair that is remembered. It deserved -to be an unusual occasion, for in arranging it Elise -was conscious of being in an unusual frame of mind. -She was in some way disposed to be so perfectly -even-handed in her dispensations. She directed the three -invitations to Mr. Evans Rutledge, Captain George -St. Lawrence Howard and Senator Joseph Richland -with her own hand and with almost one continuous -stroke of the pen. She took this batch of three -invitations as a separate handful and placed them -together in the basket for the mail. She assigned to -each of these gentlemen one dance with herself, and -one only, in the programme of the formal first half of -the evening. She appointed as attendants for the -eleven o'clock collation Mr. Rutledge to Mrs. Hazard, -Captain Howard to Helen, and Senator Richland to -Alice Mackenzie—the fiancée of Donald MacLane. -In everything she was judicially impartial. She -played no favourites.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her plans carried through charmingly, and after -dancing through the card a delighted lot of guests sat -down to the light luncheon, though three men in the -party, despite all their gallant attentions to the women -beside them, were using half of their brains at least in -planning for the catch-as-catch-can hour and a half -that was to follow. Elise had smiled upon them -equally and tormentingly, and not a man of them but -felt that the briefest little five minutes </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> might -do magical things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Lola, after she and Rutledge had -effervesced in a few minutes of commonplaces and -conventionalities, "is your money still on the -Englishman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Rutledge, "I've quit gambling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lost your sporting nerve?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not that; but a man who bets against himself -deserves to lose, and I can't afford to lose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But your self-respect?" laughed Lola.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now Miss—ah—Mrs. Hazard, don't jump on -a fellow when he's down. Self-respect is nothing less -than an abomination when it comes between a man -and a girl like—that,—and besides, she didn't mean -it that way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, didn't she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she didn't, and she's just the finest, dearest -woman in the whole wide—unmarried state!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you," said Lola, "but you needn't have -minded. And so I'm to congratulate you? I've been -so anxious to hear, but our mail has never caught up -with us since the day we left New York."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, bless your heart, there are no congratulations—only -good wishes, I hope. Take note of the exact -mathematical equality in the distances by which -Richland and Sir Monocle and I are removed from the -chair of the Lady Beautiful. Could anything be more -beautifully impartial?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And who is the ancient gentleman with Elise?" -Lola asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some old party from York State. Bachelor uncle -or cousin or some such chap—quite a character too, -it seems—danced with Dolly Madison or Martha -Washington or the Queen of Sheba or somebody like -that in his youth. Miss Phillips was telling me of -him awhile ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was a very safe subject of discussion," said -Lola.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," Rutledge replied grimly, "and do you know -I tried my very hardest to lose him out of the -conversation and he just wouldn't drop. Miss Phillips -must be greatly interested in him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anything will do in a pinch, Mr. Rutledge. What -were you trying to talk about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's it, you think? Well I wish I had ten -good minutes with her. I'd make the talk—for half -the time—or know the reason why."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I remember that Elise told me once that -you could be very abrupt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and I'm going to do a few stunts in abruptness -that will surprise her the next time I have a -chance. I've tried the easy and graceful approach for -the last six weeks, and it's getting on my nerves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you what, Mr. Rutledge," Lola laughed, -"Elise is to be with me to-morrow evening. You -come around after dinner, and I promise you shall -have a square deal and ten minutes at least for your -very own. Come early and avoid the rush."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good. I'll do it. You are a trump!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you may run along now if you wish," she -said as they came out of the dining-room, "and take -her away from the old party before the others get a -chance at her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll go to heaven when you die," Rutledge -whispered as he left her....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evans met some difficulty in cutting Elise out of the -herd. It took time and determination and some -strategy to carry the smiling young hostess off down -the hall alone; but he brought it to pass, and drew a -breath of exultation when he had shaken himself free. -However, turn where he would, every nook and corner -seemed to be occupied. He was not openly on the -hunt for a retired spot, but he was wishing for one -with a prayerful heart and wide-open eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now a man can make love to a girl right out in the -open—in full view of the multitude—in fact there is -a sort of fascination in it—in telling her what a dear -she is with the careless air and gesture which, to the -onlookers, suggests a remark anent the blizzard in the -west or the hot times in South Carolina; but when -it comes to putting the cap-sheaf on the courting and -running the game to earth, in pushing the inquiry to -ultimate conclusions and demanding the supreme reply,—a -man who dares to hope to win and whose blood -has not been thinned by promiscuous flirtations ever -wants the girl to be in a situation grab-able.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Evans became convinced that the fates were -against him on that evening, he set definite plans in -order for the next.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Hazard tells me that you are to be with her -to-morrow evening," he said to Elise, with something -of that abruptness. "May I not call upon you there? -There is something I wish very much to tell you, and -the crowd here is always too great."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise looked up at him quickly. The something he -wished to tell her was to be read in his face, but she -could not presume to assume it had been said. The -man waited quietly for his answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, certainly, yes, I will be very glad to see -you," she said in a tone of conventional politeness; -but assuredly, Rutledge thought, the light in her gray -eyes was not discouraging.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I must be going now, if you will take me -back," she said; and they turned to go up the hall. A -lumbering crash and a stifled little cry changed their -purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Three minutes before, they had seen Helen and -Harry Lodge turn a corner in the hall and pass round -behind some of the overflowing greenery which almost -shut off a side entrance. Lodge was as intent upon -the pursuit of Helen as Rutledge of Elise, and was -making more of his opportunities. Helen was -welcoming any excitement that carried her out of herself. -With Lodge's pushfulness and her indifference to -consequences, it did not take long to bring the issue -to a point. From her manner Harry did not gather -the faintest idea of losing. She listened to his speeches -with a smile which was not in the least false but none -the less deceiving. She did not offer the slightest -objection to his wooing nor put the smallest obstruction -in the way of it. In his enthusiasm he developed an -eloquence, and, taking her unresisting hand, he rushed -along to the climax of a rapturous declaration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"—And will you be my wife?" he asked, with his -arm already half about her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," Helen answered dispassionately, drawing -herself back from him as if his meaning were but just -now made clear to her: but that "no" came too late.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pair of eyes in which the lightnings had gathered -and gone wild had looked upon the whole of this -tender scene except the last moments of it. Hayward -Graham felt the devils in the blood of all his -ancestors white and black cry to be uncaged as he looked -upon Lodge in his ecstasy of love-making, and when -Lodge took Helen's hand and it was not withdrawn, -the devils broke the bars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So," cried Hayward in his soul, "it's for you—to -resign her to your arms—that I am asked to die! -No! If I may not possess her, not you, you hound!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A door was wrenched open and Lodge had only -time to straighten himself before he was knocked -senseless by the infuriated husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward drew himself up, terrible, before his wife, -and Helen in the moment of recognition threw herself -into his arms with a glad cry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you have come at last!" she moaned. "You -got my letter at last and have come to me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. What letter?" asked Hayward—but as he -asked it Helen was pushing herself from him as -savagely as she freely had thrown herself to him. Her -ear had caught the sound of people approaching. -Hayward was too confused to notice that. He was -in consternation at the lightning change from love to -aversion, and clung to her desperately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A second later he was lying prone upon the floor -with Evans Rutledge standing above him, murder in -his eyes. He made a wild attempt to rise, when -another terrific blow from Rutledge's arm sent him -again to the floor. The hall was in an uproar, and -a couple of palms were knocked aside as President -Phillips burst into the midst of the mêlée in time to -restrain another smash from Rutledge's clenched fist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the name of God, what's the row?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This nigger has assaulted Miss Helen," said -Rutledge, gasping and choking with fury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips trembled with a fearful passion, but, -seeing Helen apparently unhurt, pulled himself down -to a terrible quiet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get up," he growled to Hayward. "Now"—when -the footman was on his feet—"what have you -to say for yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward looked for the hundredth part of a -second in Helen's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no excuse," he answered simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only silence could greet such an admission. For -five seconds the silence and the stillness were -torturing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Mr. Phillips moved to speak, Helen took two -quick steps to the negro's side. His renunciation, his -silent, unhesitating committal of the issue—of his -life—to her decision, had touched her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am his wife," she said, as she took his hand -and turned to face the circle of her friends.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 73%" id="figure-69"> -<span id="i-am-his-wife-she-said"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'I AM HIS WIFE,' SHE SAID."" src="images/img-312.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'I AM HIS WIFE,' SHE SAID."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Helen's announcement was made quietly, without -any melodramatic display.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the circle immediately surrounding her and her -husband were her father and mother, Elise and Evans -Rutledge, and Hal Lodge but just now coming to his -senses and his feet. Behind these were Mrs. Hazard, -Captain Howard, Senator Richland, and a gathering -of other excited guests. For a space after Helen's -speech the scene was steady and fixed as for a -flashlight picture, and was photographed on Elise's brain: -the incredulity on her father's face—the horror on -that of Evans Rutledge—the perfectly restrained -features of Howard—the quickly suppressed smile -of Richland as he glanced at Evans in lightning -comprehension of all the situation meant—the ghastly -pallor of Mrs. Phillips as she sank voiceless in a dead -faint—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—o!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The harshly aspirated protest of Mr. Phillips was -propelled from his lungs with a burst of indignant -anger, but drawn out at the end into a pathetic -quaver—and the scene dissolved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge caught and lifted Mrs. Phillips whose -collapse was unnoticed by her husband in his transfixed -stare at Helen, and pushing back through the crowd -was about to place her upon a settle in the hall; but -at Elise's bidding he carried her up the broad stairs -and left her in the care of her daughter and Lola -Hazard. There could be no good-bye said—no time -for it; but at the glance of dismissal Elise gave him -from her mother's bedside—at the look of suffering -in her eyes—his heart was like to burst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down-stairs the confusion was painful. The guests -were hesitating between being accounted so ill-bred as -to stare at a family scene, and running away from it -as from a scourge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To her father's unsteady denial Helen repeated her -simple statement: "I am his wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since when?" Mr. Phillips demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A year ago last October."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The father looked about him as for help.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come along with me," he said. "Both of you. -Good night, ladies and gentlemen," he added to the -hesitating guests—and there was a breath of relief -and a scattering for home.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>With his hand upon Helen's arm, and Hayward following, -President Phillips led the way to his offices.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not to be disturbed," he told a servant after -he had stopped at the door and waved Helen and -Hayward into the room. "Ask Mrs. Phillips if she -will please come here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Entering, he motioned Hayward to a chair, and, -taking Helen with him, went into the inner office and -closed the door behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, my child," he said, with a break in his voice -despite every effort to keep it steady, "tell me all about -this, and we—we'll find a way out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He patted her hand reassuringly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's no way out, papa. I loved Hayward, and -I married him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, child, not love. You were infatuated—he -was a footman and you are—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was a gentleman," interrupted Helen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In a way, perhaps, but uncultured and common—how -could—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is a Harvard man," Helen cut in again, "a -man of intelligence and education. He is—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But a weakling—no genuine Harvard man could -be a menial—a flunkey—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's not a weakling, papa. He stooped to the -service for love of me. He loved me long before we -came here—when he was a student at Harvard. It -was so romantic, papa—he saw me first at a football -game and he has loved me from that day. He was the -hero of the game and he has yet the Harvard pennant -I gave him—and, oh, he's a greater hero than that, -papa—he was a soldier and he was the trooper -that—wait a moment." Helen ran to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, Hayward, give me the knife," she called; -and she came running back, holding it out to her -father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The knife that the trooper stole!" she said, with -a pitiful little attempt at gayety in her voice and face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?" her father asked harshly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, papa, you surely don't forget the knife I -gave you on your birthday? The one that was taken -by the trooper who rescued you at Valencia?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The light of understanding came to her father's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Hayward was the man, papa! He it was -who saved your life to us—oh, how I have loved him -for that! Just think, daddy dear, how often you have -told me what a heroic thing it was—and for such a -long time I have known it was Hayward and wanted -so to tell you, but I couldn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why couldn't you?" demanded her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I found it out by accident when he caught -me off my falling horse—there it is again, papa—he -saved my life as well as yours—it was just the -grandest thing the way he did it!—no wonder I have -loved and married him—he's the sort that can take -care of a woman—enough different from Bobby -Scott, who couldn't stay in his own saddle!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Mr. Scott is of an excellent family—distinguished -for generations—while Hayward is a -nobody—a—a nothing—no family and no recognized -personal distinction or merit of his own—the -commonest circus clown can ride a horse, my child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he is personally distinguished, papa; and you -have approved his merit by making him a lieutenant -of cavalry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When? How?" the father asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is John H. Graham, papa—John Hayward -Graham; and there can be no denying his fitness or -ability, for you have certified to both."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips saw he was estopped on that line; -but it only made him angry and stirred his fighting -blood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the reason," Helen continued, "that -Hayward wouldn't let me tell you who he was or -thing about his service to you. He wanted to obtain -his commission absolutely on his merit and without -appealing to your gratitude—wasn't it noble of him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A grunt was all the answer Helen got to her question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But his people, who are they? What sort of a -family have you married into? Do you know?" Mr. Phillips -demanded sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He lives with his mother—his father is dead—oh, -I wish you could hear him tell about his father -and mother, and his grandfather—it's just beautiful. -I don't know whether he has any other relatives,—but -that doesn't make any difference. I am not -married to them, papa, and he's not responsible for his -people but must be judged by his own personal -character and excellence!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this last speech of Helen, Mr. Phillips thought -he caught an echo of something he had heard himself -say, and he winced a little: but it only added a spark -more to his anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he's so far below you socially, Helen. You -cannot be happy with him! You must remember that -you are the President's daughter and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And my husband," interrupted Helen, "is of the -one order of American nobility—</span><em class="italics">a man</em><span>! I've -thought about all that—the man's the thing, you said, -papa—and besides, an army officer has no social -superiors."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no mere echo in Helen's defence now. -It was plain fighting her father with his own words: -and it irritated him beyond endurance. His wrath -burst through and threw off the shell of theories and -sentiment which he had built up around himself and -the man's real self spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he's a negro, Helen! </span><em class="italics">A negro</em><span>! How could you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A </span><em class="italics">negro</em><span>, papa?" Helen questioned in unmixed -surprise. "What has that to do with it? He's the -finest looking man in Washington if he is—and -didn't you tell Elise that that was nothing more than -a colour of skin?—that the man was the thing?—that -a—that a—negro must stand or fall upon his -own merit and not upon his colour or caste?—and -did you not say to Mr. Mackenzie that colour has -nothing to do with a man's acceptability in your -house?—and that—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my God! yes, my child, but I did not mea—you -are too young, too young to be married, my child,—too -young and too—yes, too young, and we must -annul this marriage—yes, we must annul it, we must -annul it—we can annul it without trouble, don't -worry about it, child, don't worry—we can annul it, -and—for you are too young, my little girl, my little -girl, my little girl!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At sight of her father's tears, and the trembling -that shook him as he sank down in a chair, Helen's -combative attitude began to melt and her eyes to fill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, little girl, don't worry," he said, drawing her -tenderly down within his arms, "don't worry, and we -will have it annulled in short order."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's too late, papa," she spoke against his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, precious heart, it's not too late—we can -have it annulled—don't cry, and don't worry, we can -have it annulled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, papa," she said again as she pushed herself -back so that he looked her full in the face, "it's too -late, I tell you! It's—too—late!"—and with -outburst of weeping she curled herself up against him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a dry sob of comprehension her father gathered -her close to his heart.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For a long time after he heard the voices cease -Hayward Graham waited in Mr. Phillips' outer office to -learn his fate. He had caught some of the excited -discussion—enough to be convinced of his father-in-law's -opposition; but he could not be sure of the -details. A servant had come in to say that Mrs. Phillips -could not come to the office, and had knocked -softly on the inner door several times while the -discussion was at its warmest. Failing to get an answer, -he had left his message with Hayward and retired. -When the voices were quiet and the inner room -became silent Hayward was on the </span><em class="italics">qui vive</em><span> for -developments; and stood facing the door in a fever of -expectation.... His fever, however, had time to burn -itself out.... In that long silence President Phillips -fought his greatest battle.... The issue was -predestined, of course. In his heart there was no passion -at all comparable to his love for Helen, and that love -won over all obstacles.... He saw clearly in what -measure he was responsible for her undoing; and he -came squarely to the mark with a courage that would -face </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> odds for his little girl—that would face a -frowning world, a laughing, a mocking world—that -would face his own soul even to the death—that her -gentle heart might not be troubled.... He held her -while her sobs shook themselves out, and then on and -on he held her, close and warm, as if he would never -again let her out of his sheltering arms,—while he -gazed over her bowed head into the dying fire, and -fixed and fortified his resolution.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Graham summoned courage to knock upon -the door. President Phillips started as from a reverie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in," he said, rising unsteadily and placing -Helen gently on her feet, his arm still about her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, certainly, Hayward, come in,"—and then -he added after a short pause: "Helen has told me all -about it, and, while I can't approve of the clandestine -marriage, I shall do what I can to make my little girl -happy—yes, I'll do what I can to make her happy.... -And since this has been such an—unusual—evening -I'll ask you to go now and come back to-morrow morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward delivered the belated message from Mrs. Phillips, -stood for a moment uncertain whether Helen -would speak to him, and then turned to go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And do not wear your livery in the morning, -Hayward," said Mr. Phillips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, sir," said Hayward, as he withdrew.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxiii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When President Phillips came out of his office -after dismissing Hayward, he found a score of -reporters and newspaper correspondents fighting for -places at the great front door. They were awaiting -with what patience they could Mr. Phillips' pleasure -in giving to the public an authoritative statement of -his daughter's marriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The President, after he had obtained from Helen -the details of time and place, and other items of -interest, gave the press men the story. He customarily -had his secretary to make statements to the newspaper -people, but he chose to do this for himself: in -his infinite loyalty to his little girl he was taking the -situation by the horns. There was no elation in his -manner, but there certainly was nothing to indicate -his slightest objection to Helen's marriage, nor to -Hayward Graham as his son-in-law. He gave a short -sketch of that young man's life and excellences. He -stated that he had not known Graham was either his -footman or his daughter's husband when he had -nominated him for a lieutenancy in the cavalry. He did -not state that Graham had carried him off the -battlefield at Valencia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he had finished with the men of the pencil -Mr. Phillips went back to his office for Helen, and -they sought the mother's room together. With -another flood of tears Helen dropped on her knees by her -mother's bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This scene was hardly less a trial for the father than -had been the travail of his own soul. Here also must -he win if he would save his child's happiness: and -so, amid the tears and the sobs of the mother and -daughters, and with misgivings and dread in his -own heart, at first unflinchingly, then more zealously, -and at last of necessity reserving nothing, he excused, -and upheld, and vindicated, Helen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Phillips was too heart-broken to utter a word -in opposition or condemnation, and Elise did not open -her lips to speak. It was against accusing silence, -therefore, and upbraiding tears, that the father made -his desperate defence.... Such a debate can never -be brought to any real finish; and it was at last only -in exhaustion, Helen of nerves, her father of words, -and Elise and her mother of lamentation, that the -distressed family found peace—enough at least to -permit of dispersal to their rooms for the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was bowed down in grief for Helen, and for -Helen she wept upon her pillow till the fountain of -tears was dry: but even then there was no sleep for -her. Her mind was painfully alive to her own -personal problems, and her brain was awake the night -long although weariness held her scalded eyelids -down. The incident of the evening, like an electric -storm, had clarified the haze of uncertainty for her -heart—but only to plunge it into a more intense -perplexity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No longer unchoosing, her heart had spoken its -choice. It were better had it never spoken at all; but -there could be no mistaking its decree—she loved -Evans Rutledge. As she had looked upon the three -men who loved her in that brief time when Helen -proclaimed her husband, </span><em class="italics">she had known</em><span>: and she had -known that not for her was the man who in the -fleetest moment could smile while her heart was breaking; -nor for her that other, who, with his alien point of -view, was untouched with her distress, and who with -his perfect breeding—she resented it—could be so -contained, so unmoved, in a situation which brought -anguish to her. In the throes of that anguish her soul -had turned, unerring, to its affinity in suffering, to </span><em class="italics">the -heart that understood</em><span> and wept, not in a ready -sympathy for her pain, but in the pains of a common -grief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In such manner Elise accounted for the reading of -her heart's message. She believed that it had been -undecipherable, confused, until that evening. Yet in -all her distress then, and in the heartaches afterward -resulting from its choosing, she was strangely happy -because her heart had been true to the fancy of its -earlier years, had been faithful to its first girlish -inclination to love, had not misled her, had not been -fickle in any degree, or false. She told herself with -a tremor of rapturous, prideful humility that one man -had been the master of her love from the beginning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thinking on it as she lay unsleeping through the -night, she more than once forgot her tears and was -lost in the transport of loving. She petted and -caressed her heart for its constancy. She made excuses -for its indecision in that long time when the man's -love had seemed unworthy. She murmured tender -things to it because it had prevailed, even though with -a hesitating loyalty, against her head's capricious -disapproval.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her wanderings back and forth through the -desert of her miseries on that night, she straggled back -many times to this oasis of her love and stopped to -soothe her troubled heart with its upspringing -freshnesses.... And yet a wildness of perplexity was set -about her, and she could not find a way out. She -knew that Rutledge loved her—had loved her from -the time he declared it on the flood-beaten rock in the -St. Lawrence till the moment of his tender unspoken -good-night three hours ago. That his love could not -be shaken by any act not her own, she verily believed. -But would he have loved her?—would he have dared -to love her?—could he, with his blood-deep, -immutable ideas, </span><em class="italics">could</em><span> he have loved her?—if he had -known that his love would bring him to this unspeakable -extremity, to this heart-breaking dilemma, where -he must be traitor to himself and to her—or become -brother-in-law to a negro?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, he would have </span><em class="italics">loved</em><span> her—her of all women—despite -the slings and arrows of the most outrageous -fortune, her heart told her: but, with prescience -of such calamity, would he have </span><em class="italics">spoken</em><span> his -love?—would he have asked for that interview for -to-morrow evening that he might tell it to her again? -Was he not even now regretting that appointment? -Was he not even now </span><em class="italics">pitying</em><span> his love for her? She -must know. But how could she know? By what -means could she learn </span><em class="italics">the truth</em><span>? ... Way there was -none: and yet she </span><em class="italics">must know</em><span>. Doubt, uncertainty, -here would be unendurable—and implacable for she -could no longer find peace in indifference. She loved -Evans Rutledge, and her love would fight, was -fighting, desperately for its own.... But again, her own -must be worthy, without compulsion, or she would -repudiate it. Her heart's tenderness, virgin, single, -measureless, she held too precious to barter for a love, -withal sincere and beautiful, which were weighted -with a minim of regret or limitation. Rather would -she crush back its fragrance eternally in her own -bosom, than dishonour it by exchange for less than -the highest.... Yes, she must know.... And she -could </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> know.... And the morning came, -bringing no relief for heart or brain....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips was at some pains to intimate to his -wife and Elise what he thought a proper pride -demanded in the way of the "front" they should show -to the public. Queer that he should have thought it -necessary: but, unhappy man, he spoke out of his -fears for his own steadiness. Elise, at least, had no -need for his admonitions. Her pride was the pride of -youth: the pride which finds all sufficiency in itself, -and needs not the prop of outward circumstance which -age requires to hold its chin in air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was this pride which gave Elise some hesitation -in deciding what she should do with her promise to -see Rutledge that evening. Pride said: "Meet him -as if nothing has happened to disturb the serenity of -your life. Do not show—to him, of all men—chagrin -at this episode </span><em class="italics">en famille</em><span>." But pride said: -"No! Recall that engagement. Do not appear to -hold him by so much as a hair. His love must be -undistrained!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wavered between these conflicting demands of -a consistent self-respect until the middle afternoon. -Then the pride of her love overmastered the pride in -her pride: and she wrote Rutledge a short note.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"MY DEAR MR. RUTLEDGE:—I find it necessary to -change my plans for this evening. This will prevent -my seeing you at Mrs. Hazard's as I promised. I -am very sorry.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Sincerely,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"ELISE PHILLIPS."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This was her afternoon at home; and after having -dispatched the message to Rutledge Elise gave her -mind over as far as might be to receiving her callers. -They were more numerous than usual, despite many -notable absences, and before they fairly well had -begun to crowd in she realized that she was on parade. -Oh, the duplicity of women! How they chirruped -and chattered about every imaginable thing under -heaven, while they listened and looked for only one -thing: to find out what Helen's family really thought -of her marriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was not Mrs. Phillips' afternoon, nor Helen's -and they did not appear—to have done so would -have been to overdo composure: and so it was that -Elise alone fenced with the dear, dear procession of -sensation hunters who passed in and out of her doors. -The women came in such flocks that she really did not -have time to be embarrassed, for the sympathetic -creatures who showed a disposition to sidle up close -to her and begin with low-voiced confidences covert -attacks upon her reserve were quite regularly bowled -over by their oncoming followers before they could -get their sly little schemes of investigation well going. -It became fascinating to her to watch them defeat -each other's plans, and she was somewhat regretful -when they stopped coming. They stopped quite -suddenly, for the reason that, in eagerness to see for -herself, every daughter of Eve among them had made -the White House the first stopping-place in her round -of visits for the afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the women were all come and gone, save two -who evidently were trying to sit each other out, -Captain Howard was announced. Elise was unfeignedly -glad to see him and in a few minutes the two contesting -ladies departed and left the Englishman and the -girl together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Howard's coming was very refreshing, and -Elise was grateful. He was the only person she had -seen that day who did not seem to be conscious of the -electric condition of the atmosphere, and she sat down -to talk to him with a feeling of genuine relief and -pleasure. His conversation began easily and -unconstrainedly and ran along the usual lines with all -freedom. As chance demanded he spoke of Helen -several times in connection with one small matter, and -another, and his manner of doing it was positively -restful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise felt so comfortable sitting there talking to -him that for the first time she was impressed to think -that it might be a nice thing to have him always to -come and sit beside her and make her forget that -things went wrong. The unfluttered ease and -peacefulness of his manner and his words appealed very -strongly to her distressed heart, and it warmed toward -him in simple gratefulness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Howard was not without knowledge of -the tense situation created by the announcement of -Helen Phillips' marriage. He read the newspapers -and could not but know that a tremendous sensation -was a-blow. He was himself excited by the affair—in -a steady-going fashion. It was as if a princess of -the blood had eloped and married a—say a -tradesman—or, maybe, a gentleman—of course it was -sensational.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In his amorous state of mind, however, the captain -thought kindly of the wealth of love which had -inspired the young woman with such a sublime -contempt for rank—for that very real and very puissant -divinity, Rank. He also had shaken himself sufficiently -free from the shackles of provincialism to be -able to recognize the effect of democratic ideas in -making possible and permissible such an event. -Affairs of this sort could not be entirely unlooked for in -a genuinely democratic society; and, since the -President acquiesced in his daughter's choice and had no -regrets, there was no more to be said. Altogether -Captain Howard viewed the matter very calmly and -philosophically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having this attitude, he had no hesitation after a -time in speaking directly of Helen's marriage and its -dramatic announcement. He was a gentleman in -every instinct, was Captain Howard; and there could -not be the slightest offence taken by Elise at his -natural and sympathetic interest in what he considered a -most romantic episode. But while one may not be -offended or resentful, one may become nauseated. -Captain Howard did not know of the chill of disgust -and horror that was creeping over the girl's heart, -nor notice the silence to which she was come. Her -friendliness had been so graciously simple and so -promising that his purpose had been formed and he -was moving straight toward it, not noticing her -silence further than to be glad she was saying nothing -to create a diversion.... Elise felt that if she spoke -she would be very, very rude.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"—And your America, Miss Phillips, is assuredly -the natural home of Romance. Here every man is a -peer in posse, and every woman a princess incognita—and -possibility keeps pace with imagination. In -England a footman is a footman to the end of his -life. Here the footman of yesterday is the President's -son-in-law to-day, and may himself be the ruler of his -people to-morrow! Can life hold more for a man? -The right to aspire and the luck to win!—and to win -not only the recognition which his personal merits -deserve, but that supreme gift which no man could -deserve: your beautiful sister's love! It is almost -unthinkable to an outsider like me, but it is glorious! -Yes, your America is the Land of Romance!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This all sounded very well, but Elise's nerves were -on the ragged edge. She knew if she spoke it would -be to cry out: "Yes, a rank outsider! Oh, why can't -you drop that subject before I scream!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Captain Howard had only finished the -preliminaries. He continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And in this land, Miss Phillips, where a man may -hope for anything, I, too, have taken courage to -aspire to the highest, and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A note for you, Miss Elise; the messenger is -waiting," a servant said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Excusing herself to Howard, Elise read.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"MY DEAR MISS PHILLIPS:—If I may not see you -to-night, may I not see you to-morrow afternoon—or -evening? Or day after to-morrow? When?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Sincerely yours,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"EVANS RUTLEDGE."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Elise read this over several times, and gazed idly -at the paper for some time longer. She quite forgot -the waiting messenger and Captain Howard. At last -she thought, "On his own head be the result!" and -sat down at a daintily carved desk to write.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"MY DEAR MR. RUTLEDGE:—The disturbance of -my programme for the evening seems to have been -largely imaginary. I will be very glad to see you at -Mrs. Hazard's as at first agreed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Sincerely,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"ELISE PHILLIPS."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When she had given her answer to the servant Elise -came back to Captain Howard with a commonplace -question which made for naught all his words up to -that point. He realized he must make a new -beginning if he would tell her what he wished. Her face -and mood had changed and he saw that her thoughts -were elsewhere. After several attempts to pull the -conversation back into the old channel he gave it up -and retired, mentally cursing his luck and hoping for -a more auspicious occasion.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Elise awaited Rutledge's coming at Lola Hazard's -with some trepidation. She was uncertain of herself. -She did not know what she would do. Being assured -of what Rutledge would say to her, under ordinary -conditions she would have been elusive for a season, -and finally have surrendered when overtaken. But -with outside circumstance warring against her love, -she felt wildly impelled to let herself go, to fling -restraint to the winds and give her heart's impulse free -rein. Delicious were the tremors of anticipation with -which she waited to hear again words of tenderness -from him. Overflowing was her heart with tender -response. His insistence on the meeting when she -had given him an opportunity to avoid it, proved his -faith was fast. He had met the supreme test for a -Southern white man: he loved her more than his -caste. In her own spirit she knew the agony of his -trial. How sweet to surrender to such a love! How -tenderly she could reward it! She longed to meet it -with a frank and blissful confession. So, she was in -some trepidation: she was afraid she might not be -properly reserved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola Hazard came into the sitting-room and found -Elise sitting before the open grate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Honey," she said, slipping an arm about the girl's -waist, "you look positively glorious to-night. I never -saw you half so pretty. What have you done to yourself? -Your eyes are brilliants, and your colour is—delicious!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been looking at the fire," said Elise in -explanation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The pictures you saw must be very pleasing," -Lola answered. "I hope they'll all come true. But -before we begin to discuss that, let me tell you that -Mr. Rutledge asked to call this evening, and he may -be here any moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Elise, "I know. He told me last night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he did, did he? Well, I promised him if he -came early he might have ten minutes for his very -own to talk to you to-night. I hope you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He may have ten minutes—and as -many—more—as—he—wants," said Elise brazenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you darling!" Lola gave her a squeeze. -"No wonder you are beautiful. It will make any -woman heavenly, and you are </span><em class="italics">such a help</em><span> to it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is </span><em class="italics">it</em><span>?" asked Elise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Love," replied Mrs. Hazard.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxiv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Come along back to my own little parlour, -Mr. Rutledge. Elise has been singing for me, and we'll -not let her stop for awhile yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was not expecting Rutledge to be brought in -there, and was still sitting at the piano idly weaving -the chords into soft and improvised harmonies when -he spoke. She slipped from the stool quickly, shook -hands with him in an embarrassed way, and crossed -the room to sit down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, please do not leave the piano," Rutledge -pleaded, "now that I have just discovered you are -a musician."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not a musician, Mr. Rutledge; certainly not -for the public."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge drew himself up as if offended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been called names variously in my time, -Miss Phillips, but never till this moment 'the public.' I -resent it as an aspersion—I am not 'the public'—and -demand an abject apology. Think of all the -horrible things 'the public' is—and are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you a politician!" exclaimed Elise. "You -would be lost for ever if those words were quoted -against you. Senator Killam would give a thousand -dollars for them. See—I hold your fate in my -hands—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge's eyes leaped to hers with a quick look -that confused her, and she hurried to cut off his words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"—But—oh, mercy, I'm—I'm sorry, and I retract -if it was really as bad as that. The public is -really awful, I suppose. I humbly apologize for the -aspersion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then bring forth fruits meet for repentance by -returning at once to that piano stool."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I'm such a very amateurish singer, Mr. Rutledge. -I fear you will—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I am an amateur listener, the most humbly -appreciative, uncritical soul on earth. Please sing. -Mrs. Hazard, if you have any influence with this -administration will you not use it here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Authority is better than influence," said Lola. -"Elise, march to that piano."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise complied with an exaggerated air of -obedience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since I am singing under orders, I will sing only -according to orders. What shall it be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sing </span><em class="italics">My Rosary</em><span>," said Lola. "That's an old -one—and the dearest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I commend to you Mrs. Hazard for sentiment, -Mr. Rutledge. Her honeymoon is not yet on the -wane." Having thus made Lola responsible for the -song, Elise sang it without further delay or hesitation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she had well begun to sing Rutledge recalled -having heard that song a long time before. It had -not impressed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise sang simply. The fullness of her low voice -and the clearness of her words, together with the -unaffected "heart" in her singing, left her nothing to -be desired as a singer of ballads. As Evans -listened to the song of sentiment of Mrs. Hazard's -choosing he reformed his opinion of it. Always -hitherto he had deemed sentiment an effervescence—refreshing -at times as apollinaris, but none the less -an effervescence—and the words of </span><em class="italics">My Rosary</em><span> a -fair type of it:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"The hours I spent with thee, dear Heart,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Are as a string of pearls to me.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I count them over, every one apart,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My rosary, my rosary.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To still a heart in absence wrung—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I tell each bead unto the end</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And there a cross is hung.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Oh memories that bless and burn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh barren gain, and bitter loss.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To kiss the cross, Sweetheart,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To kiss the cross."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But with Elise sitting there before him, a vision of -loveliness and grace entirely, appealingly feminine, -"the lady" all gone, and the girl—the woman—unaffected, -natural, singing of love with such an air -of truth and faith: sentiment became a very real thing -to Rutledge.... When she finished he was silent. -To comment would have been to comment on Elise, -and for her every drop of his blood was singing, "I -love you, I love you." He felt that if he spoke to her -he must crush her in his arms and tell her so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is a song according to my notion," said Lola. -"No </span><em class="italics">mésalliance</em><span> of sentiment and melody there, such -as you often see. The words and the music made a -love-match—they were born for each other. Who -wrote it, Elise?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I forget—if I ever knew," said Elise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Woman, of course," Lola continued; and Rutledge -interpolated "Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because a woman always mixes her religion with -her love—if she has any religion. A man may have -one or the other, or both, but he never confuses them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me for taking issue with you, Mrs. Hazard; -but with many a man his love for a woman is his -only religion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which means, Mr. Rutledge, that he has love—not -religion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Rutledge turned to Mrs. Hazard Elise had the -first opportunity to look at him unobserved. She saw -that his face had less colour than usual, that his -manner seemed to lack its accustomed spontaneity, that -there was a tired look about his eyes—which -provoked in her heart a fleeting maternal impulse to lay -her hand upon them. She watched him furtively and -became convinced that he was in some measure -distressed. At first it rather amused her and flattered -her vanity to think that he was approaching her with -a becoming self-distrust. As she studied him longer, -however, she began to doubt the reason for his -constraint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola Hazard turned from her discussion with -Rutledge to give Elise another song, and the young -woman at the piano sang three or four while Rutledge -listened in appreciative silence. Before the last was -finished Mrs. Hazard was gone to receive other guests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now will you not sing one of your own choosing?" -asked Rutledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no choice;" said Elise, "but this occurs to -me." She sang him Tosti's </span><em class="italics">Good-bye</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If she put more of the spirit in that song than into -the others it was not because she felt its pertinence -to the present status of her love. But through the -wakeful night, and all the day long till Rutledge's note -had come, the words of that </span><em class="italics">Good-bye</em><span> had come and -gone through her brain with passionate realism:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Falling leaf and fading tree,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Lines of white on a sullen sea,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Shadows rising on you and me—"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>her heart had sung its "good-bye for ever" with all -the smothered passion of renunciation. So, in the -very moment of blissful waiting for the telling of his -love, she could sing to Rutledge with all the wildness -of farewell which so short a time since had wrung her -spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She struck the last chord softly, and, after holding -down the keys till the strings were dumb, dropped her -hands in her lap. She did not look up, but she knew -that Rutledge's gaze was upon her. She waited for -a space unspeaking, without lifting her eyes—and -realized that she had waited too long.... The -silence was eloquent; and with every moment became -more significant. She tried to look up, but could not. -She knew that the situation had gotten beyond her in -that careless ten seconds, and that if she looked up now -she was lost.... She sat as if under a spell—and -waited for Rutledge to move or to speak.... After -an age he was coming toward her.... And he was -so very slow in coming. Her heart was thumping -suffocatingly, her breathing in suspense.... He did -not speak as he came to her.... She felt he was -very near.... Still unspeaking—was he going to -take her in his arms? ... Her head drooped lower -over the keyboard....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh, why did he not take her in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise, I love you. I've always loved you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise's eyes were upon the idle hands in her lap; -and her heart had stopped to listen. Rutledge's -sentences were broken and jerky. She had never heard -him speak in that fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've loved you always, Elise, and once I was rash -enough to think—you loved me. My presumption -was fitly punished.... Now I have only—hope. -In the last few months you—have been so—gracious -that—I have been led to think you—wait, -wait till I have done—so gracious that I have been -led to think—not that you love me, but at least that -I—do not excite your antipathy—as for a long time -it seemed.... So now I have only hope—but such -a hope, Elise—a hope that is—beyond words, for -my love is such. My love is—I love you, Elise—I -love you as—as my father loved my mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise slowly raised her eyes to his. There was no -smile upon her face, but as she turned it to him it -was ineffably sweet, and a smile was in her heart. -But she was startled by his look. His was not the -face of a lover, whether triumphant, despondent, -hopeful or militant. She did not know that he had -not been able to banish his mother from his thought -for a waking moment since he parted with her at her -mother's bed-side the night before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you—be my wife, Elise?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never before in all the world was that question -asked in such a voice. Its tone like a dagger of ice -touched the girl's heart with a deadly chill. She -looked steadily and long into his eyes. At last with -a little shiver she murmured inaudibly "</span><em class="italics">noblesse -oblige</em><span>"—and answered his question:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Mr. Rutledge, I will not be your wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her words were as cold as her heart, and her -self-possession as cold as either. She was surprised that -her answer did not bring the faintest shadow of relief -to Rutledge's drawn face—rather a greater distress. -A tingle of fire shot through her bosom. (It was not -too late—oh why did he not take her in his arms.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I will not be your wife," she repeated slowly. -(It was not yet too late—oh why—) "I am deeply -sensible of the honour you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop! Don't say that! In God's name don't say -that! Don't add mockery to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Rutledge!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the moment Rutledge forgot that there was -any person in the world other than Elise and himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> mocked me—you have </span><em class="italics">played</em><span> with -me! And—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you please go, Mr. Rutledge!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Played with me—yes—as if I were the -simplest—oh well, I have been—and you—you have -been—you are—an artist. Tell me that you do not -love me, that you have only laughed at me. Tell -me!" he sneered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go, I say! Oh, </span><em class="italics">can't</em><span> you </span><em class="italics">go</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I'll go—when you say it. Tell me! Do -you love me—have you ever loved me?—the veriest -little bit?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never. Not the veriest little bit," she said, looking -straight at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it!—the truth at last—spoken like a -m—like a lady!"—he bowed mockingly at her—"and -it proves you are false—false, do you -understand?—unspeakably false! And I have loved you like -m—but very well, it's better so—perhaps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned to go; but turned quickly about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll kiss you once if I swing for it!—for what I -thought you were"—and, for a moment robbed by -anger of his sense of proprieties, with unpardonable -roughness he crushed and kissed her, flung her -violently from him, and went, without looking back at -her.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Hazard, looking across the shoulders of a -knot of her guests, caught a glimpse of Rutledge as he -passed down the hall toward the outer door. She -waited a minute or more for him to reappear, and -when he had not done so she lost interest in the people -and things about her. At the first possible moment -she sought Elise, and found her again sitting before -the grate. Lola came into the room so quickly and -quietly that Elise had not time to dissemble, if she had -wished to do so. Her head was thrown back against -the chair and both hands covered her face. Lola took -her wrists and against some little resistance pulled her -hands away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He does not love me," Elise replied, defensively, -without opening her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't he tell you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," the answer came wearily; "he told me; -but he told me because he thought he had given me -to expect it. It was </span><em class="italics">noblesse oblige</em><span>—not love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Noblesse fiddlesticks! I don't believe a word of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh well," said Elise, looking up, "he said it was -just as well that I refused him, there's no mistaking -that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, certainly, </span><em class="italics">after</em><span> you refused him. What did -you expect?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I expected him to—no, I didn't. I didn't expect -anything. Southern men are so—" Elise stopped. -She was about to be unjust to Rutledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But come, let's go," she said, rising from her -chair. "Are all the people here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All except Senator Richland, and he never fails -</span><em class="italics">me</em><span>," Lola answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to see that man to-night," said Elise; -and yet she joined the other guests appearing nothing -other than her usual self save for the added brightness -of her eyes, and when Senator Richland managed -finally to isolate her she gave him quite the most -interesting twenty minutes of his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the company was broken up, Elise, who was -stopping over night with Lola, avoided the customary -heart to heart talk by asking for a pen and paper with -which to write a letter. Mrs. Hazard was consumed -with desire to hear all about it, but she deferred her -inquiries with good grace as she argued that a note -written by Elise at such an unearthly hour could be -only to Rutledge, and must, therefore, be important.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise shut herself in her room and, pitching the -paper on the dressing-table, sat down to think. For -nearly an hour she sat without turning a hand to -undress, trying to unravel the tangled skein of her -heart's affairs and see a way out; but she could not -get her thoughts to the main issue. Like a fiery -barrier to her thinking was the man's burning -denunciation: "You are false—unspeakably false!" It had -rung in her ears all the evening, and however she tried -she could not get away from it. At last she began -hurriedly to undress, but before that process was half -finished she brushed the toilet articles from a corner -of the dressing-table, drew up a chair, and began to -write.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unspeakably false? No, no, Evans, I am not -false. I have not been false: for I love you. Such a -long time I have loved you. Sometimes I have -believed you loved me, and sometimes I have doubted; -but I do not doubt since you told me to-night I was -unspeakably false. Shame on you to swear at your -sweetheart so!—and bless you for saying it, for now -I know. O why did you not say it earlier so that I -might not have misread you? I thought you felt -yourself committed, and must go on: that your love -was dead, but honour held you. You looked so -distressed, dear heart, that I was misled. Forgive me. -And do not think I do not know your distress. I, -too—but no, I must not. I love you, I cannot do -more. In your rage were you conscious that your -kiss fell upon </span><em class="italics">my lips</em><span>, dearest? Blind you were when -you said I was unspeakably false.—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had written rapidly and almost breathlessly -while the impulse was warm within her heart. She -paused for a moment—held the pen poised as if -uncertain what to say next—hesitated as to how to -say it—next, as to whether to say it—laid the pen -down and picked up the sheet to read what she had -written. A blush came to her cheeks as she read, and -at the end she dropped her face upon her arm on the -table and suffered a revulsion of shame for her -unmaidenliness. She tried hard to justify her writing -and had all but succeeded when Rutledge's words, "It -is better so," put all her love's excuses to final rout. -She took the written sheet and went across to drop -it on the smoldering fire. But her resolution failed -her: she felt that it would be to burn her very -heartbeats if she gave these words to the flames.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Going again to the dressing-table she laid the letter -upon the scattered sheets of paper to await a more -mature decision, and, hurriedly disrobing, went to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She found it very hard to go to sleep. Even in the -dark she could feel the continuing blushes in her -cheeks as she thought of what she had written. -Finally in desperation she tumbled up and in the dim -glow of the coals in the grate crossed the room to -the dressing-table, snatched up and crumpled in her -hand the disturbing letter, hurriedly gathered up the -remaining sheets of paper and chucked them in the -table drawer, walked quickly over and dropped the -offending tender missive upon the coals and went to -bed again in the light of its destruction. A very long -time after its last gleam was dark and dead she found -the sleep she sought.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It is not within the province of this chronicle to -recall the sensational excitement that swept the nation -in those days further than as it affected the persons -mentioned in this narrative. The details of that -sensation, the screams, the howls, the jeers, the -predictions, the warnings, the laments, the philosophizings, -a newspaper-reading people but too well remember. -They have no proper place of rehearsal in this -history; and if they had, a comprehensive statement -which would present the matter fairly to those who -come after would be too voluminous for the plan upon -which this book is projected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In that time of tumult and of trial Mr. Phillips -stood indeed alone. If he had braced himself firmly -in his determination to save Helen's happiness at all -cost, it was well: for his trial was to the uttermost. -Although it would have crushed any other than his -adamantine will, the storm-beaten father withstood, -as one accustomed to do battle, the pressure from -without: but the rebellion of his own soul was an -unrelieved tragedy that shook him day and night with -its terror. If his love for Helen had not approached -the infinite, surely in the shrieking revulsion of his -spirit he would have cast her off. There was a demand -from loud-mouthed people the nation over that he -should disown her and drive her into the outer -darkness. Some relief there was in that demand, for it -only stirred the combative in his nature. The yells -and hoots aroused his fighting blood. But the silence, -the unspeaking horror—as if in the presence of death—in -which sober-minded friend and foe stood aghast -and looked upon Helen's plight, made his courage -faint and tremulous. It was so awfully akin to the -sickening horror and silence in his own heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was indeed alone; and in that loneliness it was -given to him to teach to himself the far bounds of a -father's love. If he only could have fought -something!—or somebody! If he only openly could have -snapped his fingers in the face of public opinion, in the -teeth of his own mutinous soul—openly—and told -them he cared more for Helen's untroubled laugh than -for them all, and be damned to 'em! If he only could -have died! But no: he must stand and be still to the -most thankless task that ever called for a hidden -loyalty. Helen must not know of the travail of his -love, lest that defeat love's purpose. It was too late, -too late, for knowledge to do other than tear her -heart-strings out, blight her young soul, and write -</span><em class="italics">Remorse</em><span> eternally upon her life. She must </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> -know how much he loved her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no lack of personal—and professing—-friends -to stand more or less loyally beside the father -in that time, but their support was wormwood to him. -From the very few who were altogether sincere he -turned in aversion even as he suffered their commendations, -while for the insincere and sycophantic he had -a doubly unspeakable contempt; and that disgust and -scorn was agony, for that he must swallow it and belie -his own spirit as he listened to these friends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His private correspondence furnished him as little -comfort. Some persons there were—and a few of -these men and women of repute—who wrote to him -letters that should have been consoling, for they -agreed very heartily with his view, or what they -thought was his view, and commended him without -stint for his attitude: but never an one spoke of the -sacrificial love of a father for his daughter—</span><em class="italics">justice -to the negro</em><span> was their theme. Upon such letters from -men—it would have surprised the writers much to -hear it—he uttered maledictions profane; while, for -the one woman who thus approved him, he forebore -profanity, but relieved his wrath with a volcanic -"Freak!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the time the announcement burst upon the -public the President was overwhelmed with a flood of -newspaper comment, most of it harsh, the best of it -deprecatingly sympathetic, none, except that from -negro papers, uncritical. Very shortly the clippings -bureau which served him was ordered to discontinue -everything referring to Mrs. Hayward Graham's marriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips did not give that order because he was -too weak to stand criticism. Far from it. He was -schooled to conflict, and knew the rules. He had -never asked concession from an opponent in all his life -of struggle, and he would have scorned to ask it then, -even with the uncounted odds against him. His critics -might have shrieked till the crack o' doom and he -would have listened without a quiver of his resolution.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the impartial bureau had sent, among an avalanche -of criticism, an appreciation in the form of the -following editorial clipped from the columns of </span><em class="italics">The -Star of Zion</em><span>:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The dramatic culmination of the beautiful romance -in which Miss Helen Phillips, daughter of the -President of the United States, proudly proclaims -herself the wife of Mr. John Hayward Graham, and the -graceful acquiescence of the bride's distinguished -father in his beautiful daughter's love-match, is but -another proof of the rapid coming of the negro race -into its own as the recognized equal of any race of -men on earth. Mr. Graham's career is an inspiration -to his people, for it teaches the rising generation of -negro boys and girls that they need no longer live -Within the Veil, that in the most enlightened minds -there is no longer a silly prejudice against colour, but -that if the young negro will only make the most of -himself and his opportunities he will be graciously -received as an equal, as a member, in the proudest -families in this mighty nation.—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>President Phillips read just that much of that -editorial. Then went the order to shut off the press -clippings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It required all the father's self-control to dissemble -in Helen's presence and he feared that he would be -unable to keep the truth from her. It was fortunate -for the girl that her condition demanded seclusion and -that her removal from Washington took her away -from the danger of enlightenment. At her father's -instance preparations were hurried with all speed, and -she and her husband went to Hill-Top for their -belated honeymoon and a stay indefinite....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward Graham would have been a paragon if he -had conducted himself with entire discretion when -the limelight first was turned upon him. The colour -of his skin was not responsible for his foolish -mistakes in those first days. Any footman so suddenly -elevated to that pinnacle likely would have made them. -One of his errors of judgment was serious. That was -his continued offence against the dignity of Henry -Porter. The withering letter he had written in -answer to the old man's apology was of itself enough to -call up the devil in old Henry's heart; but that -doubtless would have been forgotten had Hayward -remained in obscurity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To dispute with the President the title to a son-in-law, -however, was a distinction too fascinating to the -negro magnate. He had already been to Bob Shaw's -office for a tentative discussion of the law in his case -and was just coming away when he ran plump into -Hayward on the sidewalk. A judicious condescension -on the young man's part even then might have -placated him, but instead an evil spirit called to -Hayward's memory his first meeting with Porter, the -insufferable affront, and his own oath to even the score. -Too strong in Hayward's heart was the temptation to -"take it out of him for keeps" then and there. At -the worst, though, he hardly did more than any -gentleman would do upon meeting another who had -driven him from his house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Hay— Mr. Graham!" said Porter, hardly -knowing himself whether he intended to be polite or -other, but having a general purpose to fetch the young -fellow up roundly for that letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe I don't know you," said Hayward, stopping -and observing him coolly for two seconds, and -turning away to continue his journey up the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, to those of his race, Henry Porter was a -"figure" on the streets of Washington, and Graham -was by that time almost as well known as the President -himself. There were but four people who could -have witnessed the meeting of these celebrities. These -were three negroes of low degree loafing along the -sidewalk and a dago pushing a cart just outside the -curb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At his rebuff Henry Porter gave a gasp, swallowed -it, and looked around to see who had seen him. The -"common niggers" at his elbow snickered, and as -they passed on burst out into loud guffaws.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Um-huh! Tried to butt into the White House, -but </span><em class="italics">Mister</em><span> Graham </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> don't know him! Can't interdoose -'im! </span><em class="italics">Too</em><span> black! Law-dee, didn't he th'ow 'im down!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henry Porter heard enough of this. He rapidly -retraced his steps to Shaw's office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, Mr. Shaw, you can jist git them papers out -this evenin'. There's no use waitin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Mr. Porter," said Shaw, who didn't -favour the idea but was too much afraid of his client -to refuse. "But wouldn't to-morrow do as well? -We could think it over a little further."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, suh, Mr. Shaw. We don't wait till no -to-morrer. We don't think about that damn young -nigger no mo' till we take him with the papers and let -him think about hisself awhile. Can't you git 'em -served on him this evenin'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he's to be found in the city," said Shaw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he's to be found all right. I saw him goin' -up the street jist awhile ago. You jist git them -papers out and have 'em served on him this evenin' -and no mistake about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, if you say so," Shaw consented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I say so—and I can pay the damage," said -the irate client with emphasis, and stalked out of the -office, only to stick his head back into the door with -the last injunction:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This evenin' now, and no mistake about it!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As chance ordained, Henry Porter did not go amiss -in his haste to have the summons served on Graham. -It was late in the afternoon and less than four hours -before the former footman and his wife were scheduled -to leave the city for Stag Inlet that the officer -served the paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A bomb exploding under Hayward's feet could not -have been so unexpected by him. As the officer read -the summons and its import broke upon his mind he -felt, for the first time in his life, physical weakness in -the presence of danger. It staggered him to think of -possible results. He had no feeling of guilt: but an -awful fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>President Phillips had passed out of the White -House for his regular constitutional while the process -was being served, and recognized the officer by his -badge and Graham's excitement by the look on his -face, but had not stopped to inquire what the trouble -was,—for which Graham was profoundly thankful, -as it gave him time to catch his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Think as he would, no way of escape could Graham -conceive. Being virtually without money, he could -not hope in four hours to bring Henry Porter to terms -and avoid a publication of the scandal. Exactly what -the old man had in mind, anyway, was uncertain, -excruciatingly uncertain. The precise nature of the -complaint did not appear from the summons. As the suit -was based on a lie, it well might be any sort of a lie. -But surely, surely, he thought, no woman would -</span><em class="italics">falsely</em><span> speak disgrace to herself. He had had a -genuine respect for Lily Porter's character. She had -been the best of them all, with the highest ideas and -the highest ideals. He would have sworn that she -could not have lent herself to a thing of this sort. -But since she had been willing to do so at all, to what -lengths might she not go? What was the limit they -had set? To what public disgrace were they trying -to bring him? To what awful lie must he make answer?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he thought of it the keen sense of his peril, the -disgrace, the loss of his commission, and his -helplessness, became well-nigh unbearable. If Henry Porter -could only have known the extremity of torture he -had inflicted in thus making the young fellow "think -about hisself awhile," his wrath might have been appeased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward trembled to think of the moment when -the public should know of this suit, but he quaked in -absolute terror as he thought of Mr. Phillips' hearing -it. And Helen!—what must he do to save her from -this shame?—he gladly at the moment could have -strangled Old Henry.... But heroics would do no -good. He was helpless, bound hand and foot. If he -could be saved, if Helen was to be saved, there was -but one arm that had the power: her father's. -Perhaps, </span><em class="italics">perhaps</em><span>, with all his attributes of strength and -force, he might be able to bring the vengeful negro -capitalist to terms. Whatever his terror of Mr. Phillips, -he must tell him.... And what were done -must be done quickly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I would like to speak with you a moment, sir, -about a—a matter," said Hayward to the President -as soon as he returned from his walk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips could tell with half an eye that it was -a matter of some moment. He led the way to his -private office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what is it, Hayward? You look excited."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips spoke very kindly, for he did so with -studied purpose. It was necessary that he keep that -purpose continually and consciously before him. For -Hayward the footman he had had quite a high -regard: as he had for any man or thing that was -efficient. For the negro as his son-in-law, he could not -bring himself to consider him with any toleration, nor -did he lie to his soul by telling it he wished to. For -the negro as a mate for Helen, every rebellious, -tortured nerve and fibre of the man was an eternal, -agonized protest. It was indeed very necessary that -he keep his kindly purpose always consciously before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" he asked again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had a paper—a summons, I believe they call -it—served on me this afternoon," Hayward stumbled -along to say; and then stopped, uncertain how to go -at it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well. And what's the trouble?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know, sir, exactly what's the trouble; or, -rather, I would say I didn't know there was any -trouble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what's it about? Who is it that's suing -you? What does the summons say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The summons doesn't say what the trouble is -about." Graham was dodging in spite of himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But who is the person that is suing you?" Mr. Phillips -questioned again testily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The summons says '</span><em class="italics">Lily Porter, by her father -and next friend, Henry S. Porter, against John -Hayw—</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Says </span><em class="italics">what</em><span>? A WOMAN?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>President Phillips jumped to his feet and went pale -as ashes. Graham, dry-lipped, could only nod his -head weakly in affirmation. For five seconds -Mr. Phillips was speechless. Then words came back, -along with a rush of blood to his face that looked to -burst it. So terrible was his wrath, the killing look -in his eyes, that Graham instinctively squared away to -defend himself from bodily injury. Such a torrent, -such a blast, of withering, blistering profanity, wild, -incoherent, unutterable, he never had listened to in all -his life. Try as he would to interpose a word, an -explanation, a defence, his efforts only drove the -father to more abandoned fury. After a dozen -fruitless attempts he realized there was nothing to do but -wait for the furor to burn itself out. To the young -man, conscious of the passing of precious time, it -seemed that his anger would never cool. When the -President showed the first signs of exhaustion he took -courage to speak again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I swear to you, sir, the young woman has no -cause to complain of me. I have done her no—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh of course not, of course not," said Mr. Phillips -in the most bitingly sarcastic tone. "Of course -not, of course not! But who the devil is she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Lily Porter, daughter of Henry S. Porter—</span><em class="italics">Black -Henry</em><span> the newspapers sometimes call him. -Perhaps you have heard—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! That nigger? Not a </span><em class="italics">nigger</em><span> woman! -But of cour—oh my God, Helen, how can I pr—" -but he choked for a moment in livid anger before he -writhed into another frenzy, that was as volcanic, as -horrible, and as pitiable as it is unprintable. He -cursed, he raved, he choked, he tore wildly at his -collar for breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was frightful to look upon, and if Graham had -feared for his own safety in the first outburst, he -feared for Mr. Phillips' life in the last. It looked as -if in the violence of his wrath he would burst a -blood-vessel. Graham was in mortal fear that he would die -in his tracks, and tried desperately to reinforce his -denial of guilt as the only possible relief for his -father-in-law's dementia, but all his attempts only inflamed -Mr. Phillips the more. The negro seemed not to -know that it was not a question of his guilt or -innocence that was tearing the father's vitals and -threatening his reason, but shame—insufferable shame!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After an age, it seemed to Graham, Mr. Phillips -became calmer. His son-in-law, wholly at a loss what -to say or do, started out of the door in search of a -clearer atmosphere and a chance to regain his -scattered faculties. The President looked around and saw -him beating a retreat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come back here!" he ordered sharply. "We -can't leave this thing like this! Something must be -done with it at once, or the scandal will be all over -the—" He trembled with the passion of another -outburst, but controlled himself by a mighty effort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I swear to you no scandal may rightly be laid at -my door," said Graham with some dignity. The outrageous -injustice of the thing gave him a little of the -dignity of righteousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Scandal doesn't depend on truth or falsehood, so -we needn't discuss that now." Mr. Phillips cut him -off short. "What we must do is to stop this scandal, -for scandal it will be if it gets to the public. Where -does this—this Porter live? How far from here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About fifteen minutes drive, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well—er—send Mr. O'Neill here—in a hurry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Graham, glad to get action on himself, was out of -the room and back with the secret service man in less -than a minute. In that short space the President had -taken a grip on his self-control.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, O'Neill, take Hayward with you to show -you the house, and go fetch Henry Porter up here to -see me. He's not to be arrested, mind you, but is to -come to see me at my request </span><em class="italics">at once</em><span>, and nobody is -to know. And he is not to speak to anybody or see -anybody, not even Hayward here, before you bring -him to me. So get along and get him here as soon -as you can. No force, remember; but he is to come -along, at my request." ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>O'Neill and Hayward hurried out, and, finding a -street cab, lost no time in getting to Henry Porter's -house. On the way Hayward gave the officer some -idea of the man he was to deal with and, bringing him -to the door, left him to his own devices and himself -took a car back home. When Old Henry came to the -door O'Neill told him half a dozen lies in half as many -minutes, and at the end of the time he had the worthy -coloured gentleman safely in the cab and on the way -to the White House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The President was waiting for him, and when the -two fathers were alone together he went at him with -a directness calculated to take the negro's breath. -Black Henry was much awed, in fact well-nigh -overcome by the situation, and he was hardly in condition -to make the most of his opportunities; but his native -shrewdness did not entirely forsake him. In the -drive to the White House he had had time to think -it over, and he had concluded that the President -wanted to see him very much or he would not have -sent for him. He tried to keep that in mind all the -time the negotiations were pending. It helped in some -degree to steady his shaking confidence in himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are Henry S. Porter, I believe?" There -was an accusing quality in the voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, suh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The father of Lily Porter who has instituted a -suit against my—against Hayward Graham?" The -tone was more accusing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, suh." Black Henry wished the suit hadn't -been instituted. But he remembered again he had -been sent for and he braced up a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now what is the nature of that suit?" The -President was somewhat in fear of his own question, -for all his bravado of manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Breach o' promise," Henry answered shortly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anything else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothin' but breach o' promise to my daughter -Lily. He was engaged to her and married your -daughter, or was already married to her, I don' know -which."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For five seconds a murderous passion all but got -control of Mr. Phillips' will. He turned away and -closed his eyes tight till he had subdued it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What evidence have you that he was engaged to -your daughter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henry Porter knew he was a fool to give away his -case to the opposition, but the President's eyes and -manner were too compelling for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My daughter says so and—and I've seen enough -myself, and besides that he has written letters to her. -I reckon we've got evidence enough all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I have evidence that there is not a word of -it true, and I sent for you to tell you you'd better drop -it. You'll find it a profitless—more than that—a -</span><em class="italics">very expensive</em><span> undertaking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The last statement was unfortunate. It struck fire -in Old Henry's pet vanity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I guess I can stan' the expense all right," he -rejoined with the oddest possible mixture of deference -and defiance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can, can you!" said Mr. Phillips sharply, his -anger beginning to redden. "But I tell you again -you can't get a verdict from the courts—no, sir, not -for a cent—so what's the use?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't need the money." ... Clearly Mr. Phillips -had given the purse-proud old darkey the wrong cue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what the devil are you after?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That young nig—young man is mos' too sassy. -He's got to know his place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His place!" Mr. Phillips' face was again twisted -in wrath. But wrath could not serve Helen's cause. -He stifled it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; he mus'n' come flyin' roun' my daughter for -fun, and then go off when he fin's somebody mo' to -his notion, and th'ow his impidence in my face."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through all his blinding anger Mr. Phillips could -see clearly enough to realize that it was indeed not a -matter of money, but of insult. He was more and -more inclined to believe Hayward's statement that -there was little or no basis for the suit. But that didn't -help matters in the least.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now look here, Porter," he said in his most -vigorous and decided manner, "I am convinced your -claim has no real basis in fact, but is the outcome of -pique pure and simple. Nevertheless, it must be -settled here, to-night; and I'm willing to see that you -don't lose any money in the way of expenses and -lawyer's fees for the procedure so far. To that end -I will have Hayward pay you a thousand dollars if -you will withdraw the suit to-night. What do you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don' need the money," said Porter in maddening -reiteration. "Besides that I don' know what my -lawyer will charge." At the mention of money, -however, the sharp-dealing old negro felt a little more at -ease and interested in the discussion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is your lawyer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mistuh Shaw—Mistuh Robert Shaw."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert Shaw. Is he the Shaw that wants that -special solicitorship in the treasury department? A -negro?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, suh, a negro; but I don' know about the -treasury department."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he's the man, I have no doubt—Robert -Shaw, a negro lawyer. Now let me tell you. I had -had some idea of giving him the place he asks for, -but I say right now if he's inclined to be a fool in a -matter of this sort he's not the man the government -wants. If he gets his fee he will be well enough -satisfied, won't he? He's not the fool kind that wants to -advertise himself in a sensational suit, is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, suh, no, </span><em class="italics">suh</em><span>! Mistuh Shaw is a ve'y nice -young man, suh. He ain't no fool, suh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he would be if he disobeyed your wishes and -mine in this matter. I think I can speak for </span><em class="italics">him</em><span> -myself. Now what do </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> say? A thousand dollars?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Involving Shaw in the affair was most fortunate -for Mr. Phillips. With Hayward out of the running, -Henry Porter now looked with much assurance upon -Shaw as a son-in-law. That financial-political -combination between himself and Shaw was again his -pet dream as before Hayward's interference. With -Black Henry the controversy was really settled and -he was ready to compromise. The smaller purpose -was lost in the presence of the master passion. But -his personal pride and cupidity were aroused. If his -hoped-for son-in-law Shaw was going to get both -honour and revenue out of this thing, he himself -ought not to fall too far behind.... And again he -remembered that he had been sent for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of cou'se I don' need the money," he said once -more, "but if money is to settle it I think five -thousan' 'd be little enough. We was suin' for -twenty-five."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Five thousand the devil! I'll not pay it. It's -outrageous!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, suh, I don't need the m—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, shut that up, for heaven's sake! What's the -best you'll do? Speak out now in a hurry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, suh, five thousan' is mighty little considerin' -the standin' of the pahties. As my lawyer, Mistuh -Shaw, said, the standin' of the pahties calls for big -damages. My daughter and your son-in-law are up -in the pic—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold on!" said Mr. Phillips. "You can stop -that argument right there. Will you take five -thousand and shut the thing up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, suh, as I said, I don' need—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you take the five thousand?" The -President's eyes had a dangerous blaze in them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, suh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That settles it. Now get right out after that -lawyer of yours at once, to-night, and have him withdraw -those papers and destroy them—or no, better than -that, you bring them here to me to-morrow—no, -bring them </span><em class="italics">to-night</em><span>—I'll wait for you. And hurry, -will you please, for I'm quite busy and must be rid of -this as quickly as possible. I'll look for you within an -hour."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Phillips could not have been very busy, for he -did nothing but walk the room till Porter returned. -And two hours had passed before that time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry to keep you waitin' so long, suh," the -negro apologized; "but me and Mistuh Shaw had to -hunt up the officer to git the papers. It was so late -when he served 'em he couldn' retu'n 'em to court -to-night, and he was holdin' 'em over in his pocket till -mornin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank Heaven for that. Did you tell him to keep -his mouth shut?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, suh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And will he do it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think he will, suh. Mistuh Shaw fixed him. -He's a frien' of Mistuh Shaw."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he'd better. I'll hold Shaw responsible for -him. Let me see the papers.... Yes, this is all -right.... Now here's ten dollars and a receipt for -that much in full of all claims for breach of promise -and so forth you and your daughter have against -Hayward Graham. You just sign the receipt, and I'll -pay you the balance of the five thousand to-morrow—there's -not a tenth of that sum in the house to-night. -You'll take my promise for the balance, won't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, suh—oh yes, suh," said Mr. Porter, his -manner showing his full appreciation of the fact that -between gentlemen of standing the ordinary strict -rules of business could be waived with perfect safety. -With all his discernment, however, he saw nothing -more in this proceeding than his trusting Mr. Phillips -for $4,990 till the morning.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When he was ushered into the President's office -the next morning Henry Porter received from Mr. Phillips' -own hands the $4,990 in currency of the highest -denominations fresh from the treasury. He verified -the correctness of the amount almost at a glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll give you a receipt, suh," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, don't trouble; the receipt for ten dollars -in Hayward Graham's name in settlement of the claim -for breach of promise answers every purpose legally."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he spoke the President smiled in a satisfied way, -and it occurred to Black Henry that a ten dollar -breach of promise suit would be quite a contemptible -and ridiculous affair if it got to the newspapers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now, Mr. Porter," said Mr. Phillips, anxious -as ever to make every bid for silence, "you can see -that, adding force to your contract, every consideration -of decency and self-respect demands that not the -slightest whisper of this matter shall reach the public. -The highest consideration I have not hitherto referred -to. That is your daughter's good name. It could -only do injury to her reputation—injury, and -nothing but injury. I am indeed surprised that she was -so unwise, that she had the disposition to bring this -suit and bring herself into what would have been such -unfavourable public notice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, suh, </span><em class="italics">Mistuh Shaw</em><span> said she wouldn't like it, -and I had a hard time makin' him bring the suit. He -said she wou—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't she instigate it?" asked Mr. Phillips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, </span><em class="italics">suh</em><span>—that she didn'. Fact is I've been -fraid to tell her about it—fraid she'd make me stop -it, she thinks such a heap of Mistuh Hayward.... -But we've got it all settled satisfact'ry now and there -ain't no reason why she sh'd ever know it happened, -suh. Good mornin', Mistuh President."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You old scoundrel!"—when Mr. Porter had -closed the door behind him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxvi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In trying to be philosophical Rutledge took what -comfort he could from Elise's "no" in the fact that -he would be less distracted from the work of his -campaign against Senator Killam. He gave all his -energies to that task, which promised to tax his resources -to the utmost if he would hope to win. The owners -of </span><em class="italics">The Mail</em><span> were more than willing that he should -make the attempt. His temporary stay in the Senate -had given the paper a very considerable shove toward -the front rank in prominence and authority in affairs -political, and there was nothing to be lost by a tilt -with that most picturesque figure in national politics, -Senator Killam.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Let it be understood, however, that Rutledge did -not run simply to advertise himself or his paper. His -unfailing friend Robertson wrote to him: "There is -a very real opposition to Senator Killam growing up -in the State, although at this time its force and -numbers are very difficult to compute with accuracy. -Your admirable conduct of yourself in your short -trying-out has commended you to those who are looking -for a leader of conceded ability yet not identified with -any of the petty factions in State politics nor with any -of the local issues upon which the party is divided -and dissentient. Your friends think you fill all the -requirements in the broader sense and, besides, that -you are the antipode of all things peculiarly, -personally and offensively Killamic."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Although they were of the same broad political -creed, the stage of antagonism to which he and -Senator Killam had come during the younger man's short -term in the Senate bordered on the acute. It had -reached the point where they were studiously polite -to each other. Senator Killam did not usually trouble -himself to be civil to any person who aroused his -antipathy, but he had the idea that it would be -conceding too much to young Rutledge's importance to -show any personal unfriendliness to him. Nevertheless, -with all their outward show of friendliness, they -were both out for blood: Rutledge, because of the -many of the older man's taunts and sarcasms which -still rankled in his memory; and Senator Killam, -because, whatever the time and whoever his opponent, -he always gave a correct imitation of being out for -the blood of any man that opposed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge had already begun to be very busy with -his campaign before his decisive conversation with -Elise. When, some ten days later, he received a letter -from his mother in which she set out to discuss his -admiration for Elise in light of Helen's marriage, he -found himself entirely too pressed for time to do more -than read the opening sentences, and lay it reverently -away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tried to forget Elise,—as many another lover -has done before him, and with about the usual lack of -success. For the remainder of the Washington -season he cut all his social engagements that were not -positively compelling and fortunately did not chance -to see her again but twice before he went South to -take an active hand in the primary campaign.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On those two occasions she exhibited the perfection -of impersonal interest, but Rutledge, remorseful for -his indefensible behaviour toward her at Mrs. Hazard's, -was conscious that, curiously enough to him, -her gentle dignity had not the faintest trace of offence. -It seemed rather to hold an elusive though palpable -element of friendliness. This was puzzling, but he -did not attempt to explain it to himself. He had -suffered enough from the riddle of her moods, and he -was afraid to try to explain it. He was convinced -that she was not for him—had she not told him so?—and -that, having lost her, it was imperative that -he think no more about her lest he lose everything else -he had set to strive for. So he strove only to lose the -disquieting thought of her out of his work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>President Phillips, also, in those days was attempting -to flee his thoughts in a wilderness of work. Unlike -Rutledge, with him there was a tax upon heart -as well as brain in the political task before him. -Rutledge could not feel aggrieved if the people of his -State declined to send him to the Senate, for by no -merit or custom had he a pre-eminent claim upon -them. Defeat, however disappointing, could bring -him no heart-burning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips, however, was asking no more than -was his due: renomination at the hands of his party. -By every consideration both of merit and custom it -was his due. His official record was </span><em class="italics">efficiency, -faithful execution, striking ability and uncompromising -honesty</em><span>. But by very virtue of his honesty and ability -he had gone up against the two powers in this country -that go furthest to make or unmake Presidents: -law-breaking corporations and machine politicians. The -Greed and The Graft could never be at ease while a -Fearless Honesty abode in the White House. They -long had planned to displace Mr. Phillips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fight was not an open one, with each army -aligned under its own banners. It was a night attack -where the clash and the struggle could be heard and -felt but the assailants could not be distinguished and -called by name. Mr. Phillips could well imagine who -were the leaders of his enemies, but they were too -shrewd as yet to openly declare their opposition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The consummate skill with which the campaign was -conducted made it appear that there was a growing -manifestation of the people's disapproval. The -boomlets of a dozen or more favourite sons were assiduously -cultivated each in its limited field—but all by -the master hand. The favourite sons as a rule -deprecated the mention of their names and waived it aside -as unworthy of serious thought; but it takes a very -great or a very small man to recognize his own -unfitness for the presidency of the nation,—and modesty -would permit no favourite son to say he was too big -for the office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips was not of the holy sort that is above -using some of the traditional methods of the -politician. With good conscience he could drive men to -righteousness when necessity demanded it: and -believing that his own re-election would be for the -country's weal he would not have hesitated perhaps to turn -the power of the administration to that purpose if he -had not been measurably handicapped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was an honest man—as his predecessors in -office had been. He desired—as they had desired -before him—to give the country a clean and honest -lot of officials to administer its interests. But, unlike -some of the Presidents gone before, he had made -extraordinary personal efforts to see and know for -himself that the men of the government corps were of -honest purposes at heart and honest practices in -office. Result: many and many a cog-wheel, great -and small, in the machine had been broken and thrown -into the scrap pile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Therefore the machine silently prayed for deliverance -from this Militant Honesty in the executive -office, and, with its praying, believed—first article -in the creed of Graft: Heaven helps those who help -themselves—to deliverance as well as to the public -money. So, there was no pernicious activity in -Mr. Phillips' behalf among the office-holding class. The -defection from his support was impalpable but none -the less assured. He could not put his finger upon the -men and say "Here are the deserters," for they had -not as yet, at four months before the convention, -declared against him. But they were not throwing up -their hats for him. It was apathy that presaged disaster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Greed had so quietly and effectively extended -its propaganda that "vested" interests began to think -they "viewed with alarm" Mr. Phillips' activities. -They were persuaded that he had already gone to the -limit in bringing to book the methods of Capital and -of Business, and were asked to note that not even yet -was there the faintest hint of a promise that he would -not run amuck amongst them. They preferred to -defeat him in the convention. If not, they would -defeat him at the polls. With them there was no -sentiment about it. They simply wanted no more of him. -They desired a "safe" man.... Few times in the -political history of this nation has Money failed to get -what it really truly wanted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finished politician that he was, Mr. Phillips could -read the signs clear. He knew that his political death -was being plotted, had been plotted for months. In -the consciousness of his official rectitude and efficiency, -and with confidence in the discernment and appreciation -of his countrymen, for a long time he had thought -contemptuously of the plotters. At length, however, -his trained eye had caught the flash of real danger: -and his heart was oppressed. Not that overweening -ambition made him crave continuance in his exalted -office and sicken at the thought of denial. It was not -that: not the loss of a double meed of honour in a -second term. No; it was the threatened loss of his -first term, of the four years already gone, with their -unstinted expenditure of energy and honest purpose, -brain-fag and strain of heart. To be disapproved, -discredited, by the people for whom he had given the -very essence of his life! Keener than the sting of -ingratitude, even, was the sense of possible loss. </span><em class="italics">Four -years</em><span> for naught! four years </span><em class="italics">for naught</em><span>!—if the -people should repudiate him. He trembled to think -it was possible for him to fail of renomination. He -was fighting for his life: for the life he had already -given to his country in that four years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the weeks and months wore on toward summer -he felt that he was losing strength with every -sunset. The Southern delegations, makers of so many -second terms, were being sent to the national convention -uninstructed. That was not conclusive; but it -was ominous, for any administration having Mr. Phillips' -political faith that cannot hold the delegations -from that section is politically in a bad way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Plausible explanations were offered, assuredly: -"Southern delegates have so regularly worn the -administration label that they have lost influence and -self-respect"—"This time it is unnecessary. There -is only one real candidate and they must all vote for -him"—"It is better not to appear to endorse the -negro luncheon too vigorously, for the negro in the -South does not count any more and some of the tenderfoot -white recruits might desert." The explanations -did appear to explain it; but Mr. Phillips knew that -Money and the Machine were taking his Southern -delegates from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the Southern delegates were not the only ones -that were going wrong. The Trusts and the Grafters -were throwing Northern and Western delegations -into confusion. Beyond that, the Southern country -was somewhat surprised to hear that a negro son-in-law -to the Presidency was a little too strong even for -Northern stomachs, and that some Northern white -folks were making bold to say so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward Graham's commission? The opposition -in the Senate did not have the slightest difficulty in -holding it up. Mr. Phillips with unflinching courage -unhesitatingly used every whit of his power and -influence to have that commission confirmed. He had -nominated Hayward because he believed him worthy; -and he said to the Senators with a touch of humour, -but with much emphasis nevertheless, that being his -son-in-law ought not to be held to the negro's -discredit. He said many other things, for he was really -very much in earnest: but the Senate was non-committal. -It postponed consideration of Mr. Hayward -Graham for days, and weeks, and finally adjourned -without a vote upon him. That ended it.... With -a show of grim determination the President stated -that he would send the nomination to the next session, -but he knew when he said it that Helen's husband -would never be a lieutenant of cavalry in the United -States Army.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Let it not be inferred that, as the matter is thus -dismissed briefly here, there was little or no discussion -of it. This entire volume would not compass a tenth -of what was said about it, and the reader who cares -for details must seek the files of the newspapers of -the period. There is not space here even for a digest -of all that talk.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Phillips could ill brook defeat. In his thinking -there were few things worse than failure. So it was -that, while in the desperate fight he was making he -did nothing unconscionable, he did stand for some -things nauseating to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was necessary that in the North he hold the full -negro vote, which was the balance of power in several -States. It certainly looked an easy thing to do. And -it was easy—to everybody concerned except -Mr. Phillips. The negro race rallied to him with an -enthusiasm that was surpassing even for those emotional -folk. The overflowing, smothering approbation which -they heaped upon him was loud-mouthed, unceasing, -extravagant. Yet it took all his self-control to receive -it with any show of satisfaction. In fact on several -occasions he was almost goaded to break with his -negro allies for good and all. In some of those -moments he easily could have done so—as far as -personal reasons held him. The personal pride in being -decorated with a second term was not always a match -or antidote for his personal humiliation and suffering -under the mouthings and love-makings of the admiring -black men. But a rupture, and a declaration of his -real sentiments, meant not alone his defeat: it meant -the success of the enemies of honest government: it -meant that, his tongue once unloosed, Helen must -know—and her heart would break. So he held his -peace, and let the negroes say on with their fulsome -friendlinesses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And what he bore as he kept the faith! It tore his -nerves to tatters. One incident as an example:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was invited to address a convention of the -Afro-American Association, which was holding its biennial -meeting in Washington in May. He accepted the -invitation with very great pleasure. It gave him the -opportunity he desired. The negroes had been talking -to him or at him for months: and he had somewhat -to say to them. He welcomed the chance to say it. -He was full of his speech, and was intending to be -very emphatic. It was </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> day to talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the distinguished chairman of the convention -who introduced him thought that it was </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> day to -talk. He presented Mr. Phillips in fifteen minutes of -perfervid oratory, sonorous, unctuous, and filled with -African imagery. He recited a brief history of the -President's life, lauded him as Civilian, Soldier, and -Chief Executive, credited to him about every good -thing that had come to the human race since he was -inducted into office, and crowned him as the negro's -Friend, Champion and Hope. He detailed the -evidence of Mr. Phillips' love for the negro race, and -hailed him as the true and great Exemplar of the -Genuine Brotherhood of Man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my Brothers," the orator-chairman swept -volubly to his conclusion, "this great man who holds -the Stars of Our Flag in his right hand and in his -left hand the Golden Sceptre of Supreme Authority -and Power in this Peerless Nation has proved -himself beyond any Question or Peradventure the very -Apostle and Archetype of Equality and Fraternity in -this land of theoretical Freedom and Equal Rights. -In each of the three great departments of our life he -has practised that Equality and Fraternity. In the -civil administration of this Great Government he has -called to his assistance black men of Mighty -Brain-Power to advise with him about his policies of -Statecraft and they have spoken Words of Wisdom to him. -In the military department he has appointed to an -officer's commission under the Stars and Stripes a -brave young negro, a Gentleman, a Scholar, a Soldier, -who will reflect Honour upon the Star-Spangled -Banner and show the world that the Negro is a Patriot -and a Fighter. And more than that, my Brothers! -As the crowning act of his Fearless Career the -Honourable and Honoured Gentleman who will address -you has openly recognized the negro's rightful place -in the Homes of this Country, for he has admitted the -race as an Equal into the Holy of Holies of his own -domestic life, and furnished supreme and convincing -proof of his love for black men by freely giving his -tender and gentle daughter, the Fairest among Ten -Thousand and the One Altogether Lovely, over into -the arms and affections of that same young Negro -Soldier! Connubial Bliss knows no Colour Line, my -Brothers! May the union be blessed with—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But fifteen hundred lusty black throats, not able -longer to choke down their cheers, were wildly, -exultingly screaming "Phillips! Phillips!! -Phillips!!!" The chairman said a few more words in pantomime -and gave Mr. Phillips the right to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips was very slow in coming to his feet. -The speech that he had purposed to make was gone—all -gone. The chairman's last words like a chemical -reagent, had turned his every though to vitriol, and -he was all afire with the impulse to pour it burning -and blistering down their open throats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood impassive with tight-shut lips while they -cheered and cheered and cheered. In the fires that -scorched his spirit, personal and political ambition -shrivelled into a cinder and was entirely consumed. -A second term—the honour, the approval, the -country's weal—might sink into the Pit rather than that -he would blacken his soul even by tacit assent to such -a monstrous, awful lie! Given Helen freely to a -negro's arms!—he would blast that lie with—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Helen! in the tumult he thought of </span><em class="italics">her</em><span>. And -the tenderness of his love for her made him to tremble. -In a moment a war was on within him, and the struggle -between his pride and his love shook him as with -an ague.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he knew the end from the beginning. As the -cheering died away Helen dominated his thoughts as -she dominated his heart,—and he did make a speech -to the convention. It was not a forcible speech nor -a very long speech, for a man cannot think about one -thing and discourse very effectively about another. -It was on the order of a prayer-meeting talk, -consisting mainly of platitudes and good advice. When it -was finished he went directly home and lay down on -a couch to rest, for he was tired, mortally tired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From that day forth Mr. Phillips was in terror of -his negro allies. He made no other addresses to them. -But he could not escape them. The negro papers -called on the race to rally to the Phillips standard. -This the joyful blacks construed to mean that they -must form themselves in squads and go over to Washington -and tell Mr. Phillips about it personally. Many -were the delegations from political clubs and orders -and associations of all black sorts that called to pay -their respects and assure the President of their loyal -support and good wishes; and despite all his -forehandedness and precautions it was a very dull day -when he was not openly hailed as a brother to the -race by virtue of the affinity in Helen's choice of a -mate. He was not permitted to forget Helen's plight -for an hour,—if he had chosen to forget.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed, however, he had lost the zest of thinking -about anything else. True, he fought his political -battle with energy to the finish, and gave it the best -thought his brain could furnish—but that was -because he was a born fighter and knew not how to be a -laggard: the burden of his voluntary, uncompelled -thinking was of Helen, and it grew larger and larger -upon his mind. And the more he thought of her, the -more he would think of her: and the tragedy of her -mating loomed more darkly hopeless and appalling -before his face, until his days became one long prayer -for a miracle of deliverance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In his meditations he suffered the tortures of a lost -soul. He was too brave a man to shirk his accountability -for Helen's undoing. In moments of solitude -when he was most racked with remorse and wildly -despairing he would cry out against the fatal -interpretation she had put upon his words and his -deeds—"I did not </span><em class="italics">mean</em><span> that, I did not mean </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>, oh my -daughter, my little girl, my little girl!"—but these -moments of self-excusing were only the wild cries of -unbearable agony. In composed self-confession he -accused himself—with a bitterness that had in it the -bitterness of death—and in the genuineness of his -penitence he might have proclaimed his error and put -his countrymen on guard: if only </span><em class="italics">Helen must not know</em><span>!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Summer was come and the convention was less than -two weeks away when Mr. Phillips' first political -lieutenant came back from a trip to New York with -the very definite news for his chief that even if at -that late day he would promise to be more considerate -of the business interests of the country the nomination -might yet be his. Mr. Phillips promptly sent his -answer to the railroad president who had presumed -to speak for Business that he "would see the </span><em class="italics">business -interests</em><span> damned before he would make any such -promise." ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Three days before the convention met, Mr. Phillips -received a letter written in pencil in a weak and -uncertain handwriting.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"We have named the boy Hayne Phillips. When -are you coming to see us? Daddy dear, it tires me so -to write. I love you. HELEN."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxvii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Mr. Phillips who on July the 3d, 191-, -alighted from the car at the little station that served -the Stag Inlet folks was a very different figure of a -man from the vigorous person who on a day in the -preceding October had taken the train there to go back -to his work in Washington.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was now no spring in his step, no quickness -in his movement. He was plainly fatigued and -preoccupied, and he was alone. There was no member of -his family with him, nor any of them, except Hayward, -to meet him at the station. A single secretary followed -him at some little distance as he walked down the -platform mechanically raising his hat and smiling at -the half score of persons who had stopped to see him -take his carriage. He climbed up beside Hayward -into the single-seated affair the negro was driving, -nodded to the secretary to follow him in the formal -and stately victoria that was waiting, and with a -parting lift of his hat left the small crowd staring at him -as he drove away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The onlookers commented, as onlookers will, upon -everything that struck their eyes in the simple -proceeding. They wondered why he appeared so listless -and careworn. They wondered why he crowded into -the narrow buggy instead of taking the roomy -carriage. They wondered why none of his daughters -nor his wife accompanied him—why he looked just -a little bit carelessly dressed—and what had become -of his swinging, buoyant stride—and whether he was -altogether in good health and—well, they left no -question unasked, no surmise unturned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips had very little to say to Hayward -during the drive to Hill-Top. He really desired to say -nothing, but it was impossible to ignore all the -demands of gentlemanly politeness and interest in his -son-in-law's family.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How is Helen?" he asked after a long while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so very well yet, sir," answered Hayward. -"She doesn't seem to regain her strength very -rapidly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A very much longer silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the baby?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The finest boy in the world, sir—you ought to -see him—strong and healthy, with lungs like a steam -piano."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips made no comment. Hayward looked -round at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's not very pretty, sir—no really young baby -is, I'm told—but the nurse says it's unusual the way -he notices things already. I know all new fathers are -said to talk like that about the first baby, but really I -think he must be an exception, sir. I think he'll be a -credit to his name—which is the most I could say -for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips acknowledged the compliment by -nothing further than a lifting of his chin—-which -Hayward had no means of interpreting. Having -exhausted the subject and not being encouraged to -proceed, the young father became silent—and Mr. Phillips -was glad. He had not chosen to ride with Hayward -for the pleasure of his conversation, but for the -benefit of the onlookers at the railway station; and, -having asked the questions absolutely demanded by the -occasion, he did no more.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Phillips waited in the library till he should be -told that his daughter and grandson were ready to -receive him. Not in the lull before the battle of -Valencia did he so prepare himself for a trial of his -nerves and his courage. His courage was of the same -old sort, but his nerves were sadly shaken by the -cumulative happenings of the last half year; and with -Helen's happiness as the ruling purpose of his life he -felt almost afraid to trust himself before her eyes in -the ordeal through which he must pass. Perhaps she -might still be unable to read his dissembling. God -save them both if she should read him truly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The nurse came in to tell him that Mrs. Graham -was waiting to see him. Hayward had intended to -witness that meeting, but there was something in the -father's manner as he passed him in the hall which -caused him to forego his purpose. Mr. Phillips -followed the nurse into the darkened room. Helen half -rose to a sitting posture and clasped her white arms -about his neck and sobbed in nervous joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, daddy, you have come!" she said brokenly—and -for a long time neither spoke.... "I -thought you would never come! I have wanted to see -you so. I've been so lonely, daddy. Where are -mamma and Elise that they have deserted me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips as he bent down over her almost lifted -her out of bed in the force and tenderness of his -embrace. The pitiful little cry of loneliness almost -tore his heart-strings out of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your mother has not been strong enough to come, -precious heart, and Elise has to stay at her side to care -for her. When Dr. Hamilton prescribed Virginia -Springs for her in April he thought that two months of -rest would restore her to strength. Last winter was -a very trying season, and your mother was more -broken than usual by its burdens. The doctor tells me -that she is recuperating very slowly, almost too -slowly, but that rest and absolute quiet and freedom -from excitement is the only thing that will cure her. -I saw them a week ago to-day—I wrote you—and -they sent their love to you. They hope to see you -before very long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise might have come, papa. She has written to -me quite regularly—but she might have come if only -for two or three days—so that I could see some of -you"—and her mouth quivered into another muffled sob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, child, she could not leave her mother—you -cannot imagine how near your mother has been -to collapse—they would not write you for fear that -you would worry too much about it—and she is still -very weak—nothing seems to benefit her much—the -doctor can hardly find the cause of her continued -weakness—and perfect rest is the only thing that can -help her back to health. So Elise must be there to -relieve her from every exertion and effort and be a -companion to her, for my visits are necessarily brief. -They love you, little girl, as always—though they -haven't been permitted to be with you. Katherine is -too young to have come, of course, and she would have -been more of a care than a comfort, anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, she's young, but she would have been -</span><em class="italics">somebody</em><span>. The last month has been the </span><em class="italics">longest</em><span> -month, daddy, that I ever lived in all my life—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, little girl," the father said soothingly -as he smoothed the hair on her temple, "don't cry any -more. The waiting is over now and we won't be away -from you so long again. I could not get away from -Washington a day earlier. I have been very busy, -you know—doubly busy with the official work and -the political campaign too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, daddy, I want to ask you. Are you -going to get the renomination?" There was an excitement -in Helen's question that her father saw was unusual -for her, with all her characteristic interest in his -political fortunes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why child, I—I think so. We'll know certainly -in a very short time now. The convention is in session -and they will have the first ballot to-morrow, I -think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But do you really think you will win, daddy? Is -there no danger of losing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I really think I'll win, little woman; but you -know politics is a most uncertain thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you do think there is some danger! Oh, -daddy, is what I've done going to hurt you?" There -was distress in her accents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What </span><em class="italics">you've</em><span> done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, daddy. It never occurred to me till yesterday. -I've seen very little of the papers since we've -been up here, but none of them had ever mentioned -such a thing—until last night in the very first one -the nurse would let me look at even for a minute it -said that 'just how many or just how few votes the -President will lose in the convention because of his -daughter's having married a negro it is impossible at -this time to forecast. Southern delegations this year -are unusually uncertain quantities.' It said just that, -daddy—and oh, I'm so sorry if—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no—no—child. You haven't hurt me, my -chance of renomination, in the least. The idea is -ridiculous. Haven't you learned by this time that -the papers will say anything? They must say -something, you know; and when they haven't anything -sensible to say they are compelled to say things that -are absurd. Suppose the Southern delegates are -uncertain. They always have been, except when the -machine had them tied hard and fast. Don't distress -your heart about political rumours, little girl. I'll win -all right. I've never failed in my life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm so glad if it is false, daddy. It would -break my heart if I thought I had done anything to -defeat you. I wish there were no Southern delegates—and -no Southern people, with their bigoted notions!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are forgetting, little woman, that your -grandmother was a South Carolinian—and the dearest, -gentlest soul! If she could have lived to know you -she would have loved you more than any other girl -in all the world, I think. And you would have loved -her, Helen.... Don't quarrel with the Southern -people. Their ideas about the—about the negro are -in the blood, and cannot be eradicated in two or three -generations."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen began to speak and turned her face casually -toward the baby lying tucked in on the far side of the -bed—when her father snatched the conversation -suddenly from her and, taking it thoroughly in hand, -gave her little time except to listen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The blow had fallen! And with all his preparation -he was unprepared! Helen was confused and -bewildered by the incoherency of his talk, by his -hurried, disjointed speeches, by his half-made questions. -He was making a blind effort to put off and push back -the inevitable. His eyes had grown accustomed to the -subdued light of the room and as his vision became -clear his heart almost ceased to beat. The baby! In -that half light was revealed the darkness of the little -fellow's face!—many, many shades darker than the -face of Hayward Graham: and the spectral fear that -had been with Mr. Phillips at noonday, at morning, -at evening, at all the midnights through the last -months, was now a real, weakening, flesh-and-blood -terror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a hope that was faltering indeed had he -prayed for the miracle that might deliver Helen -entirely from the consequences of her thoughtless folly, -but with all his faith had he besought a merciful -Heaven that the child which would come to her should -not fall below a fair average of its parental graces. -Even that were a torture, that were horrible enough: -that Helen's gentle blood should be </span><em class="italics">evenly</em><span> mixed and -tainted with a baser sort. But this recession below the -father's type!—this resurgence of the negro blood, -with its "vile unknown ancestral impulses!"—there -came to him an almost overpowering desire, such as -had come of late with increasing frequency but never -with such physical weakness as now: the desire to lie -down at full length and to rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he talked volubly and scatteringly to Helen, -his shaking soul cried against fate. Why should -Nature have chosen his Helen, the very flower of his -heart, as a subject upon which to demonstrate her -eccentric laws! Why, oh—but he must keep his -tongue going to distract Helen from his distress—why, -oh, why should atavism have thought to play its -tricks and assert its prerogative here! Were there not -enough other mongrel children in all the earth through -whom heredity could establish her heartless caprices -without the sacrifice of Helen and of Helen's baby! -Oh, the sarcasm of pitiless Chance, that the most dear, -the </span><em class="italics">very</em><span> highest, should be sacrificed to establish the -law of the Persistence of the Lowest in the blood of -men! Surely, in </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> lesson, that law had been taught -at an awful cost: and, as if to show that it had been -taught beyond cavil, there was poked out from under -the white coverlet a tight-shut baby fist that was -almost black.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>All things human must have an end,—and Mr. Phillips' -subterfuge was very human. His expedients -finally failed, he had not a word more to say: and yet -he was no nearer being prepared for the inevitable -than before. The supreme test was come, and his -spirit cowered before it. For the first time in his life -he greeted flight as a deliverer, and decided to run -away from danger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, little woman, I must go and rid myself of -the dust of travel;" and he was half way to the door -when Helen's weak voice arrested him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you not going to notice the baby, daddy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pathos in that trembling question would have -called him to go against all the Furies. Turning, he -hesitated an instant, of which the double would have -been fatal: but he saved the moment from disaster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me, I was about forgetting the youngster."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He walked quickly around the bed and sat down -beside the boy. Pulling the covering a little away, he -took the tiny hand in his, and grandfather and grandson -looked for the first time each into the face of the -other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a negro baby: the colour that was of -Ethiopia, the unmistakable nose, the hair that curled -so tightly, the lips that were African, the large whites -of the eyes. Verily a negro baby: and yet in an -indefinable way a likeness to Helen, a caricature of -Helen, a horrible travesty of Helen's features in -combination with—with whose? Not Hayward Graham's. -But whose, then? Helen's and whose? ... Mr. Phillips -could not answer his own question—he -had never seen Guinea Gumbo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a moment the smaller hand closed over the man's -finger as if in approval; but the man straightened up -as if to get a freer breath, and glanced involuntarily -at the pale mother. Her eyes were painfully intent -upon him. Driving himself, he turned. Murmuring -a nursery commonplace, he leaned over and kissed the -little darkey as tenderly as he might.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no escape from Helen's eyes. He prayed -that she had not seen that his were shut when he -kissed her son—it was his only concession to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With another pat or two of the small fist he stood -up by the bedside, bracing his knees against the rail -that he might stand steadily. The fever was not yet -gone from Helen's eyes. She had smiled when he -caressed the boy, but she was yet expectant. On her -father's verdict hung all her hopes, and his face for -once in her life she was unable to read. She was -vaguely uneasy. His manner was inscrutable, and -she had never seen him look just like that. Their -eyes met, and the unconscious pleading in hers would -have wrung any verdict from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a fine boy, isn't he, little woman? ... So -strong and healthy looking.... Shakes hands as if -he meant it.... And he looks somewhat like you, -missy. That will be the making of him.... But I -must go now,"—and he went rather precipitately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And will you hurry back to us, daddy?" Helen -called to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, child; I'll hurry back," he answered,—as -he hurried away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His secretary handed him a telegram. He took the -yellow envelope and, without so much as glancing at -it, went into the library and shut the door.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Very late in the afternoon the library door was -opened, without invitation from within. Mr. Phillips -was sitting in a chair with his arms upon his desk and -his face upon his arm—dead.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 73%" id="figure-70"> -<span id="his-arms-upon-his-desk-and-his-face-upon-his-armdead"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HIS ARMS UPON HIS DESK AND HIS FACE UPON HIS ARM—DEAD."" src="images/img-386.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HIS ARMS UPON HIS DESK AND HIS FACE UPON HIS ARM—DEAD."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxviii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Again, and of necessity, is the reader cited to the -newspapers of the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is not meet that the passing of a chief magistrate -of this nation should be passed over quickly or lightly -in any history. The people stopped to mourn, to cast -up his life in total, and pay respect to its multiplied -excellences, to study his virtues as if in hope to -reincarnate them, and to glory in his life as a common -possession of his country. And yet this narrative may -not pause to pay befitting tribute to him, nor to detail -the tides of grief that swept the hearts of his -countrymen with his outgoing, or the stateliness and grandeur -of the ceremonies with which they committed his body -to the ground. We may not here give the comprehensive -view, for our canvas is not broad enough. -Let it be said only that he died as he had lived: a -gentleman brave and tender,—honest to his undoing, -but dead without having known defeat,—faithful to -his love for Helen even to the death, yet making no -plaint against love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The physicians ascribed the President's death to -heart failure,—which meant little more than that he -was dead. They ventured to say that the heart failure -had been superinduced by overwork. This verdict -doubtless would have stood if a newspaper man the -first at Hill-Top had not chanced to hear of a telegram.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The telegram could not be found although the -secretary searched diligently for it. The energetic -reporter conceived that that statement was a subterfuge -which in some way betokened a lack of confidence in -his discretion, and, besides, it smacked of mystery for -a telegram to evaporate into thin air in a dead man's -hand. Put on his mettle thus, he made it his business -to know what was in that telegram. Being an old -telegraph man himself, he hied him down to the -station and made himself pleasant and useful to the -youngish man in charge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>President Phillips had intended to await the -decision of the convention in Washington, and all -telegraphic arrangements for convention bulletins had -been made accordingly. At the last moment Helen's -trembling little letter had changed his purpose, and he -had slipped quietly off to Hill-Top, notifying only -Mr. Mackenzie how to communicate with him directly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The moment the President's death had flashed upon -the wires, the capacity of the little Stag Inlet office -became sadly overtaxed. The perspiring and flustered -operator was very grateful for the assistance of the -kindly newspaper man who modestly proffered his -help in getting the deluge of messages speedily copied, -enveloped, addressed and dispatched. Once having -his hand on the copy-file it was an easy thing for the -good Samaritan to get the full text of the last message -that had gone to Hill-Top.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could not decide whether it was so very valuable -now that Mr. Phillips was dead; but he sent it to his -paper along with his other stuff, riding a dozen miles -in a midnight search for an open telegraph key. -Much pride he had in his achievement when he added -to his news report a statement to his managing editor -that the text of the telegram was a "beat" for his -paper and might be displayed as "exclusive." But -his feelings were very much hurt next day that they -should have published his find under a Chicago -dateline and robbed him of his glory.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>THE PRESIDENT DIES OF A BROKEN HEART</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>He Takes the Telegram which Tells of -<br />Defeat and Is Seen No More Alive</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Chicago, July 3d—After a conference of the -leaders of the Phillips cohorts this afternoon the -following telegram was sent to the President at Stag -Inlet: "We are moving heaven and earth; but the -forces of evil are too many for us. First ballot -to-morrow."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The news column was after that fashion. The -leading editorial was a scream under the caption, "The -Trusts Have Murdered Him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Mackenzie, who had sent the telegram, was -mortally angry that the odium of actual defeat from -which death had relieved his friend should have been -fixed thus upon his memory. He was offended almost -beyond endurance with his confidential clerk despite -that young man's violent disclaimer of responsibility -for the leak; but he was most enraged at the diabolical -discretion of the managing editor of </span><em class="italics">The Yellow</em><span> -in omitting the name of the sender of the telegram: -which would necessitate that he admit having sent it -before he could demand to know whence the paper -had knowledge of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The convention took a recess for ten days, and, -upon reassembling after Mr. Phillips' burial, passed -by a unanimous vote a set of resolutions that lifted -him to the stars and gave him place among the gods. -Then it set out upon a long round of balloting; and -without being altogether conscious of the reasons and -causes impelling, it finally nominated a "safe" man -for President.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Helen could not attend her father's funeral. -Pitifully weakened by the awful shock of his sudden -passing, she cried out with all her remaining strength to -be carried in to look upon his face in death. Her -physician's consent after long refusal was due to his -kindliness of heart, and the result vindicated his -professional judgment, in that it came frightfully near to -taking her life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In utter desolation of spirit was she left when they -had taken the great man out of the house upon his -stately procession to Washington and the grave. Her -husband was unfailing in devoted and anxious attendance, -but she was listless to his tenderest efforts to -console her. Elise's letters, coming now every day -from the bedside of the prostrated mother, Helen read -faithfully to the last word, and really tried to take -comfort and courage from them, but they could not -get down, it seemed, to touch and dissolve the cold -mists of desolation in the deeps of her heart. Her -father, the stay and fixative of her life, was gone: -and there was nothing now to give her footing upon -the earth. No one to interpret life, to give meaning -to life, to give purpose to life, to give value to life. -The days might as well move backward as forward. -They appeared not to be moving at all. There was -no one to give them direction. He toward whom or -from whom or about whom the days had always -turned as a sort of first cause or incarnation of the -reason and sense of things, was gone: and she was -in chaos.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With her weakness of body, her mental processes -were weak, and her mind did not take vigorous hold -of things: but, confidently as it had followed her -father's sentimental speeches about the negro race -and loyally as she would defend and abide his words -and the consequences of them, she could not control -her thinking, even in its weakness, and put down the -thoughts which her every look upon her baby brought -to disturb her. Very slowly the natural spring and -rebound of youth brought her out of her physical -relapse, and yet more slowly out of her mental -depression. But, even as strength of body and mind -returned, there came more insistently the questioning -that could not be answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her heart she had always glorified mother-love. -In the days and weeks before the baby's coming she -had revelled in the dreams of motherhood, and her -heart had been overcharged with love and visions of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this little fellow was not the baby of her -dreams. Never in all the hundred varied pictures her -heart had painted had there been a child like him. -He was not of her mind, surely; and vaguely uneasy -and distressed was she that he was not of her kind. -Nervously she swung between the moments when -pent-up mother-love swept away all questions and -poured itself out upon her little son in fullness of -tenderness, and the other moments of revulsion when -she could not coerce her rebellious spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Feverishly in the doubting moments would she -repeat over and over her father's brief words of -assurance. Hungrily had she awaited them before he had -come to look upon the boy, greedily had she seized -upon them when he had pronounced a favourable -judgment, and longingly she wished now that he -could come back to reinforce them and reassure her -faint confidence that all was well. Not finding a -sufficient volume of testimony in the few words he -had spoken in that last interview, she supplemented -them with all she could recall of everything she had -ever heard him say about the excellence of the negro -race, and added to that all the nurse had to say of the -proverbial uncomeliness and possibilities of phenomenal -"come out" in very young babies: and for days -her pitiful daily mental task was to lie with closed eyes -and interminably to construct and reconstruct of these -things an argument to prop up her ever-wavering -faith.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Hayward Graham was a man of too much intelligence -not to see the uncertainty of his wife's attitude -toward the boy. He was of too much white blood in -his own veins not to have suffered measurably the -same torments because of the baby's recession in type. -What Mr. Phillips had said of it, he did not know, -and dared not ask Helen. In all kindliness of purpose -he encouraged her to believe </span><em class="italics">The Yellow's</em><span> theory that -her father's heart had broken under defeat. He did -not know that she was agonizingly fearful of having -contributed to that defeat.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Helen was rummaging through her father's desk -in the library. With the first escape from the -prison-house of her bedroom, her feet had turned -instinctively toward the workshop which had been the scene -of Mr. Phillips' labours at Hill-Top, and the scene -also of much that had been joyous in her association -with him. But even as she idly tumbled the odds and -ends of papers about—in solemn and fascinated -inspection, for that they seemed in a way to breathe his -spirit and to invoke his presence—the undercurrent -of her mind was busy as ever with its never-ending -task.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned up a small package of notes marked -"Cincinnati speech," and examined them absent-mindedly; -but found nothing that caught her interest. -Tossing them back in the desk, she picked up a letter -addressed to her father in her own hand. She -recognized a rambling and rollicking message she had sent -to him more than a year before. From the -appearance of the envelope she judged that he must have -carried it in his pocket awhile. She had a little cry -when she came to the characteristic closing sentence: -"Daddy, I want to see you so bad." That had been -a simple message of love. Now it was the cry of her -heart's loneliness and need.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief, she -pulled out from the bottom of the drawer an unbound -section of the </span><em class="italics">Congressional Record</em><span>, from which -protruded a slip of paper. Opening it at this marker, she -saw a blue pencil-mark which indicated the beginning -of a speech before the Senate by Mr. Rutledge. -Half-way down the second column her father had made the -marginal comment "good." Further along was a -blue cross without explanatory note. Still further, -"very good." With such commendations in her -father's own words she began to read what Mr. Rutledge -had to say.... For a short space she noticed -her father's occasional marginal notes, favourable or -critical, and the more frequent non-committal blue -cross. It appeared that he had contemplated preparing -an answer of some sort. Very soon Helen became -so interested that she saw only the text.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>With faster beating heart and breath that came -more irregularly she was drawn irresistibly along. -It was an answer to her soul's cry for a word; and -whether true or false, welcome or unwelcome, she -could not but listen to that answer with quickening -pulse as it ran hurriedly under her eyes. Long before -she reached the end her anger was ablaze and her fears -a-tremble, but she could not throw the speech from her -unfinished. Almost in a frenzy of excitement and -resentment she rushed along to the very last word: -and with a gasping cry of horror and wrath grabbed -at the desk-drawer with the intention to hurl the -pamphlet viciously back into it. She caught the slide -instead, and pulled that out with a jerk. Lying on -the slide was a telegraph envelope which her violence -threw on the floor. With another impatient trial she -slammed the pamphlet into the drawer, and mechanically -picked up the telegram.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was addressed to "The President, Hill-Top." Turning -it over to take out the message, she found it -sealed. Instinctively she hesitated a moment, long -enough for the question to come, "Why is it -unopened?" Then she tore the end off the envelope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The message read, "We are moving heaven and -earth but the forces of evil are too many for us. First -ballot to-morrow," and was signed by Mr. Mackenzie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She read it over and over, stupidly at first, for her -mind was excited by other things. Then the meaning -of it began to be appreciated, and her heart sank. -Confirmation of the newspaper story! The telegram -</span><em class="italics">had</em><span> been sent! And her father </span><em class="italics">had</em><span> been defeated, -and death alone had saved him from the damning -ballot! Defeated, yes, really defeated!—and she had -contributed, if only a mite, to that defeat which broke -his heart! Guilty—</span><em class="italics">guilty</em><span>! She bowed her head in -grief and agonized self-condemnation....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But no:—she started up—the telegram! He had -not read it! Had he read it?—she caught up the -envelope and examined it feverishly.... It could -not have been opened—it had not been opened! He -had not read it—he did not know! He had not -known of his defeat—he had not died of his defeat—and -she had not helped to send him to his death! -Oh the joy of this acquittal!—and she held the -envelope as one under sentence might clasp a reprieve, -and almost caressed it as she made sure of its -testimony in her behalf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she had assured herself that the envelope had -not been opened, the burden upon her heart would -have been lifted entirely if the telegram had not -confirmed the fact of his defeat. He had not died because -of defeat, and she was acquitted therefore of his death, -yet she was acutely sensible of the fact that he had -gone to his grave in the shadow of defeat, and that -death alone had saved him from the shameful actuality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was gall and wormwood to her, for his name -could never be flung free of that shadow. The very -time and manner of his going-out had fixed failure -eternally upon him. Oh why, her heart cried, could -he not have died before or lived beyond it? Why had -he died </span><em class="italics">then</em><span>? Mr. Mackenzie might have been -mistaken, or the sentiment might have changed with the -balloting, victory have come out of defeat and his -fame have been without a cloud upon it. Oh, why -had he not lived?—lived to outlive that one -reverse—lived to overwhelm his enemies in another trial, -lived to put those hateful Southern delegates again -under heel? Why had he died so inopportunely? ... Why -had he died at all? ... </span><em class="italics">Why had he died</em><span>? ... How -could death have taken him so quickly and -so unawares? He had gone briskly out of her room -with the promise on his lips to hurry back. He had -kissed the baby and said it looked like her.... Yes, -said it looked like her—the baby—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hurriedly she snatched the </span><em class="italics">Congressional Record</em><span> -out of the drawer into which she had angrily flung -it! Breathlessly she turned the pages to see what -comment he had made upon that last part of -Rutledge's speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Phillips had put but one marginal note against -all that fearful presentation. Opposite the words, -"when the blood of your daughter ... is mixed with -that of one of this race, however 'risen,' redolent of -newly applied polish," etc., Helen saw the single -written word, "unthinkable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unthinkable! Quickly she searched again that -portion of the speech that had given supreme -offence—and found nothing. Nothing beside the word -"unthinkable." No denial had her father entered that -"vile unknown ancestral impulses, the untamed -passions of a barbarous blood would be planted in the -Anglo-Saxon's very heart" by such unions as hers. -No hint of his thought as to a "mongrel progeny." No -answer to the question, "How shall sickly -sentimentalities solace your shame if in the blood of your -mulatto grandchild the vigorous red jungle corpuscles -of some savage ancestor shall overmatch your more -gentle endowment...?" A free expression, -critical or approving, of the first half of the speech; but -silence, an awful silence, when it comes to this part -so pertinent to her situation. Silence!—</span><em class="italics">for the -reason</em><span> that her situation is UNTHINKABLE!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In an illuminating flash she sees the Truth—sees -all the minute incidents of the past months, the looks, -the gestures, the things unsaid, which, unnoted by her -at the time, were yet registered in her subconsciousness, -and which make so plain, now that she reads -them aright, all her father's thoughts and sufferings -and sacrifice from the moment when he had cried, -"But a </span><em class="italics">negro</em><span>, Helen! How could you!" until the -time he had rushed away after kissing her negro -baby—rushed away to die! .... She knew! ... </span><em class="italics">Despoiled -herself!—polluted her blood beyond cleansing!—brought -to life a mongrel fright, and brought -to death her father!</em><span>—with a scream of horror she -staggered to her feet.... At the door she met the -nurse, who was hurrying to her, still holding in her -arms the baby whom she had not tarried to put down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take it away! </span><em class="italics">Take it away</em><span>!" shrieked Helen, -pushing it from her so violently as to hurl it from the -nurse's arms, and staggered on through the hall, out -the door, and down the path toward the lake.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxix"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The candidates for the Senate were come to -Spartanburg in their canvass of the State before the -primary election. The campaign was about half finished -and had already reached the very personal stage of -discussion so dear and so interesting to the South -Carolina heart. LaRoque, Rutledge, Preston and -Darlington were all out after Mr. Killam's scalp, and -that gentleman was making it sufficiently entertaining -for the four of them and for the crowds who flocked -to hear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Major Darlington and "Judge" Preston were -running each in the hope that "something might -happen:" Mr. Rutledge and Colonel LaRoque each in an -effort to poll the largest vote next to Mr. Killam and -thus be left to try conclusions alone with the old man -in a second primary—provided the four of them in -an unformulated coalition could keep the old man -from winning out of hand in the first trial.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the hotels on the Saturday morning of the -Spartanburg meeting, each of the candidates was -surrounded by a coming and going crowd of his admirers -and supporters and persons curious to see what he -looked like. Senator Killam, as by right, was the -centre of the largest interest. Nearest about him were -his most trusted lieutenants in the county, who did not -come and go with the changing crowd but stood by -to whisper confidences to the Senator, to receive his -more intimate disclosures, and to present formally -sundry citizens who desired to shake the great man's -hand and be called by name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A little further removed from the Senator's person -were the inevitable two or three of that super-admiring -yokel type which, too ignorant, unwashed and -boorish to stand in the Very Presence, is yet vastly -joyed to hang about, open-mouthed and open-eared, -in the immediate neighbourhood of greatness, in the -hope to be counted in among its </span><em class="italics">entourage</em><span>. Still -further out the curious viewed "the old man" from -a respectful distance and commented upon him, freely -and respectfully or otherwise, as freeborn American -citizens are wont to do. The while the crowd shifted -and eddied, came and went. As about Senator -Killam, so in less degree moved the tides about the -other aspirants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Senator," asked one of the inner circle in a quiet -moment, "what do you think of our chances with the -national ticket?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so good as they'd have been with Phillips -against us," answered Mr. Killam.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, of course not," said the questioner, glad to -display his political wisdom, "I've told the boys all -along that we could have beaten Phillips with that -nigger son-in-law of his sure as shootin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's where you are mistaken," replied the Senator -oracularly. "We might have beaten Phillips if -we had nominated a dyed-in-the-wool corporation -law-agent like they have now put up against us; but the -nigger son-in-law wouldn't have cut any ice. I believe -at heart they don't like that any more than we do, -but if the Trusts would have permitted it they would -have put Phillips and his nigger back there just to -show us they could do it.... They've got a lot of -fool notions about 'justice to the nigger' that make -me sick.... Justice to the nigger is to make him -know his place and teach him to be happy in it; but -the Yankees haven't got the sense to see it. Rutledge, -even, had a lot of that damn nonsense in his speech -on the Hare Bill. Half of what he said was very -good, if he had only voted accordingly and left out all -that rot about educating the nigger.... How in the -devil he got his ideas I can't see. He didn't inherit -'em, for his aristocratic old daddy thought it was a -dangerous thing to educate the lower classes of white -folks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not worrying yourself much about Rutledge -in this race, are you, Senator?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, he'll never hear the gun fire. Why man, -he's neither one thing nor the other. Some of his -ideas about the nigger will make any </span><em class="italics">white</em><span> man mad, -and yet nobody ever did make a more forcible protest -against Phillips' nigger luncheon, nor paint a more -horrible picture of miscegenation.... Strange thing -about that, too,"—the Senator lowered his voice to -reach only the inmost circle, and the yokels almost -dislocated their necks in attempts to burglarize his -confidence—"do you know it was whispered that -Rutledge was engaged to Phillips' oldest daughter"—the -Senator's voice dropped still lower—"no doubt, -they say, that he is, or was, very much in love with -her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The smaller circle exchanged glances of interest, -and a smile went round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gosh, isn't that a situation!" said one of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but don't mention it," Mr. Killam requested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly not."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"What was it he told 'em?" asked one of the -unwashed of his more fortunately placed fellow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't ketch it all," replied the other, proud -nevertheless to possess even a fragment of a state -secret.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The crowd was far too large for the Spartanburg -court-house, so the public discussion was had under the -oaks of Burnett Park. An improvised platform of -planks laid upon empty boxes lifted the candidates -high into view of the assembled Spartans, who stood -without thought of fatigue for six hours and listened -to the merry war of words, and encouraged, -interrogated, cheered and howled at the speakers in good -old primary campaign fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The primary campaign is inherently prolific of heat -and hate: for the candidates, being agreed on political -principles, are driven perforce to the discussion of -personal records and foibles. This campaign had -developed the most friction between Mr. LaRoque and -Mr. Killam, these two having been long in public life -and having accumulated the usual assorted odds and -ends of memories they would desire to forget.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the very beginning of the canvass the Senator -and the Colonel had rushed through Touchstone's -category from the Retort Courteous to the Quip -Modest, the Reply Churlish, the Reproof Valiant, the -Countercheck Quarrelsome, the Lie with Circumstance, -and had pulled up on the very ragged edge of the Lie -Direct. There they had hung for days, while an -appreciative public feigned to wait in breathless -suspense for the moment when the unequivocal words -"You are a liar" should precipitate a tragedy and the -coroner count one of the gentlemen out of the race. -At many of the meetings, the reports had it, were -the people "standing on the crust of a muttering -volcano," or in tense situations where "a single spark to -the powder" would have—played hell; and -especially at Gaffney on the preceding day, so the -newspapers said, was the feeling so bitter and the words -so caustic that partisans of Killam and LaRoque, -"desperate men who would shoot at the drop of a -hat, had stood with bated breath, hand on pistol, -imminently expectant of the fatal word that should cause -rivers of blood to flow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Non-residents who occasionally read of the South -Carolina campaigns and have formed the idea that -they are things of blood, battle, murder and sudden -death, may be somewhat relieved and reassured to -learn that in the last thirty years not a single volcano -has erupted, not a powder-mine has exploded, not a -teaspoonful of blood have all the candidates together -shed—notwithstanding the fact that a fiery Lie -Direct has more than once been pitched sputtering hot -into the powder of these debates. Let timid outsiders -not be too much overwrought, therefore, because of -these bated breaths and hands full of pistols,—it is -just a cute way the good South Carolinians have of -manifesting an interest in the proceedings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Spartanburg debate drew itself along after the -usual fashion. There was plenty of noise, gesticulation -and heat, and the usual allotment of "critical -moments" when "tragedy was miraculously averted" -by the "marvelous self-control and cool head of the -Honourable" Thomas, Richard or Henry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Senator Killam followed Colonel LaRoque, and -long before he had finished, the crust over the volcano -had been worn thinner than ever, the crowd was in a -tumult, and no man could have made an altogether -coherent speech to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Senator had not referred to Rutledge in his -talk, but at the end of it, as Rutledge was to follow -him, he introduced him to the people as "my young -friend who believes it is possible for a negro to become -the equal of a white man." It had been Mr. Killam's -studied practice to ignore Rutledge and treat his -candidacy as a harmless youthful caper, and he usually -referred to his former colleague briefly in the very -words in which he then presented him to the -assembled Spartans.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Killam's shrewd but unfair characterization of -him gave Rutledge a fine opening for a speech, but it -gave him no little trouble also, for the Senator always -appeared to make the statement casually with an air -that said it didn't make the slightest difference -anyway what the young Mr. Rutledge thought; and it -was a difficult thing for Rutledge to straighten the -matter out without magnifying the gravity of the -charge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge was quite able to take care of himself in -any controversy where calm and intelligent reason -was the arbiter, but it requires a peculiar order of -ability to be master of such assemblies as was gathered -there. While far from being a novice or a failure at -stump-speaking, Rutledge was not in Senator Killam's -class at that business. He had not learned that, -whatever else it may be, and however much it may be such -incidentally, a stump-speech is not primarily an appeal -to reason. He took too much pains to be perfectly -accurate, consistent and logical in all the details of his -argument. He dealt too much in argument. His -reasoning was excellent—as far as he was permitted to -deliver it; but many of his choicest webs of logic were -demolished half-spun by the irrelevant, irreverent, -impertinent questions yelled at him by the crowd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It takes a shifty man to accept all these challenges -and turn them to his own account. Rutledge was well -aware of that fact, but it was not for that reason -alone that he ignored them as far as possible. He had -started out on the campaign with the high purpose -and resolve to pay his countrymen the compliment to -talk to them as to men who think, and he had held as -religiously to that ideal as his countrymen would permit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like the other three he was addressing himself -principally to the record and claims of Mr. Killam, -and the Killam partisans, already fomented by -LaRoque's speech, were in a ferment of disorder. In -a perfect shower of interruptions Rutledge had held -his way unturned and apparently unnoticing when—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You want to marry ol' Phillips' oldes' daughter, -don't yuh?" split the air like the crack of a bull-whip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge, hand uplifted in the middle of a sentence, -stopped so quickly, so astonished, that he forgot to -lower his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Um-huh! Thought that'd fetch yuh! When're -yuh goin' to marry the nigger's sister?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before Rutledge could locate the disturber the -crowd was in an uproar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kill him!" "Kick him out!" "Hit him in -the head with an axe!"—these were only a few of -the cries that tore themselves through the pandemonium.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge stood, pale with passion, while the -outburst spent itself. It seemed a very long time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My fellow countrymen," he said, when his voice -could be heard—and at the sound of it the -assemblage became very quiet—"I will answer my -unknown and unseen questioner as though he were a man -and not a dog. I have not the honour or the hope -to be engaged to Miss Phillips; but, if I had, I would -account myself most fortunate. So much for the -question.... As for the man who asked it, we -certainly have come upon strange times in South Carolina, -my countrymen, if the names of women are to be -bandied in political debates. It has not surprised me to -see you rebuke it. By your quick indignation at such -an outrage you have spontaneously vindicated the -good name of your State. The dog who made this -attack cannot be of South Carolina. If born so he is -a degenerate hound. You have no part with him: -and before you kick him out there is only left for -you to inquire whose collar he wears. What master -has fed him and trained him and taught him this -trick, and secretly has set him on to make this attack? -That is the only question, my countrymen: </span><em class="italics">Whose -hound dog is this</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rutledge! Rutledge! Hurrah for Rutledge!" -"Kick him out!" "Shoot the dog!" "Tie a can -to his tail!" "Who's lost a dog?" "Hurrah for -Rutledge!" Rutledge's supporters bestirred their -lungs to make the most of the situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You go to hell! Hurrah for Killam!"—the -defiant voice was the voice of the offender.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Senator Killam sprang to his feet with the bound -of a panther.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, you!"—he leaned far over the edge of the -platform and shook his fist in a towering rage at his -admirer who now stood revealed—"I give you to -understand that I don't want the support of any such -damn scoundrel as you or any of your folks, you -infernal—" but bless you, though the Senator was -screaming his denunciation, the rest of it was lost to -history in the war of applause in which "Killam!" -and "Rutledge!" seemed to bear about equal weight. -The deafening crash of sound seemed to double when -Mr. Killam, ceasing his screaming pantomime, stepped -quickly over to Rutledge and extended his hand, -which Rutledge took and shook with warmth as the -old man spoke something that of course the crowd -could not hear.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After the speaking was finished, Rutledge went -back to his hotel, and, taking from the clerk a bundle -of mail that had been forwarded to him, climbed up -to his room to look it over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The third letter he opened was in a plain business -envelope with typewritten address. He read:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unspeakably false? No, no, Evans, I am not -false. I have not been false: for I love you. Such -a long time I have loved you. Sometimes I have -believed you loved me, and sometimes I have doubted; -but I do not doubt since you told me to-night I was -unspeakably false. Shame on you to swear at your -sweetheart so!—and bless you for saying it, for now -I know. O why did you not say it earlier so that I -might not have misread you? I thought you felt -yourself committed, and must go on: that your love -was dead, but honour held you. You looked so -distressed, dear heart, that I was misled. Forgive me. -And do not think I do not know your distress. I, -too—but no, I must not. I love you, I cannot do more. -In your rage were you conscious that your kiss fell -upon </span><em class="italics">my lips</em><span>, dearest? Blind you were when you -said I was unspeakably false—"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xl"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Elise Phillips had not stirred from Virginia -Springs since coming there with her mother and two -little sisters early in April. Her father had visited -them regularly each week-end except when imperative -official duties forbade, and had suggested at his almost -every coming that Elise take some little outing from -her mother's bedside. Elise would not go. She was -as constant in ministering to her mother as was the -nurse in charge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not even when her father died did she go to look -upon him in farewell, for she was momentarily -fearful lest her mother go away also for ever. It was a -forced choice between the claims of the living and the -dead. Her heart was torn with a distressing sense -of her father's loneliness in death—going to his -grave in state, thousands following his catafalque—and -yet not a single member of his family beside him: -her mother and Helen prostrated, Katherine and May -too very young, and she herself drawn on the rack of -a divided duty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her daily life had been secluded and monotonous, -except in the moments when her cumulating sorrows -were so poignant that they drove out monotony. With -religious regularity and with tenderest love—as for -a wayward unfortunate child—she had written to -Helen at Hill-Top, and at the private hospital in which -she was now detained, until the physician in charge -had requested that she discontinue her letters except -at such times as he should advise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only in the last fortnight, since her mother was -beginning slowly to recover strength, had Elise given -the slightest heed to her physician's orders that she -herself take some appreciable outdoor exercise and -care of her health. Few of the summer visitors -stopping at the one hotel of the quiet resort ever had a -glimpse of her, for the reason that the cottage taken -by Mrs. Phillips was quite removed and secluded. -The few friends who did see her remarked upon her -loss of flesh and added beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was never beautiful after an assertive, -flamboyant fashion, but was of that sublimated type of -loveliness that, stealing slowly and softly in upon the -senses, at last holds them rapt before the Rare Vision: -Woman in Excelsis. Now, however, vigils and griefs -had touched her face and form with a spirituelle -quality not ordinarily possessed by them, and this ethereal -effect caught the eye more quickly, and revealed at -once the fine and exquisite modelling of her beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had seen and heard very little of Rutledge for -half a year. During the remainder of the Washington -season after Helen's marriage was announced she -had bravely kept up appearances by missing none of -the functions and gayeties that had claim upon her -time and interest, and on one or two occasions had -been face to face with him and exchanged brief but -formal salutations. Since she had been at Virginia -Springs an occasional brief press notice of the South -Carolina senatorial campaign was all the word she -had of him except a couple of lines in a letter from -Lola Hazard in May.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the Sunday morning after the Spartanburg -meeting, at about the usual hour of eleven o'clock, -the boy brought the Washington papers. As Elise -sat down in the shadow of the porch and unfolded -</span><em class="italics">The Post</em><span> she experienced the most acute sensations -of interest that had stirred her for months. Over and -again she read that Mr. Rutledge had neither "the -honour nor the hope to be engaged to" her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the first surprise, came anger. The publicity -was very offensive; and, beyond that, the denial itself -was to be resented. As she understood it, no gentleman -has the right to deny an engagement to any </span><em class="italics">lady</em><span>—that -was the woman's privilege: and for the man's -denial to savour of meeting an accusation—unpardonable!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he had said "the honour:" oh, yes, of course; -she admitted the word was all right, but at best it was -such a formal word: and it might have been sarcasm—she -could hardly imagine it other—for had he not -told her she was unspeakably false? If she only could -have heard how he said it! ... "Nor the hope:" -worse still, he was trying to purge himself of the very -slightest mental taint of guilt. It was an utter -repudiation of her—in the face of the mob, he had not even -</span><em class="italics">the hope</em><span>—very well, let it be so—doubtless his -political career and a South Carolina mob was what he -had in mind when he had said to her, "It is better -so." ... "Would account himself most fortunate:" -oh, certainly, Elise sneered, make a brave show of -gallantry, but be particular to have the mob -understand that you have </span><em class="italics">not even the hope</em><span> (by which it -will understand </span><em class="italics">desire</em><span>)—it will be better so, for the -politician.... Resentment possessed Elise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This state of mind did abide with her—on through -luncheon, and after. She thought of little else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As evening approached she took Katherine and -May for a stroll. Following the roadway some little -distance toward the hotel, the three turned into a -well-defined path leading up the hill that robbed the -cottagers of their sunsets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With an open prospect toward the east, the Virginia -Springs folk might have all the glories of the -morning as the free gift of God; but to possess the -sunsets they must pay tribute of breath and strength -in a climb of what the low-country visitors called "the -mountain." The long ridge was really not of montane -height, but was sufficiently uplifted to stay the -feet of all except such as "in the love of Nature hold -communion with her visible forms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once on top, however,—with its broad, open, -wind-swept reaches rolling down to the wide river -valley on the west and southwest, with a sweep of -vision over the lower hills and lowlands to the north, -east and south, and in the west across the river to the -far-lying mountains showing under the afternoon -sunlight only their smoky heads indistinct above the white -haze that veiled the foothills: one had measurably the -sensation of standing on top of the world.... The -climb was a favourite diversion of Elise, and the -red-splashed and golden sunsets and the sense of physical -and spiritual uplift, a passion with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before they reached the summit on this summer -afternoon, the little May was sufficiently exercised, -and wished to return. Permitting her and Katherine -to go back alone, Elise climbed on to the top of the hill. -and sitting down in her favourite seat, looked steadily -into the west—into the future—into her heart.... -Pride is inherently not a bad thing. Nor are its -works always evil. Elise's pride in her love finally -rebelled against her evil thinking of her lover. It -preferred to think good of him, and it began to construct -a defence of him.... First it set up that she had -refused him pointblank, had denied her own love, and -that after such a dismissal she certainly could demand -from him nothing in the way of loyalty. Further, -before dismissing him she had led him on to hope, no -doubt about that; and in the light of her conduct his -denunciation was just: she had mocked him—he -was justified in thinking she was unspeakably false. -What right, then, had she now to demand of his love -that it should be loyal, that it should sacrifice his -political future, that it should confess to a hope,—or -even to a desire, if he had so meant it? Her heart -admitted she was estopped.... Yet it could not be -content and dismiss the matter from her thinking.... -Had he meant to deny desire in denying hope? -She asked herself the question.... Could one -negative hope without admitting desire? ... Is there not -desire in the dead as in the living hope? Do not hope -and hopeless premise desire? ... Elise's mind was -wandering in the maze of the psychology of hope, -when she looked about to see coming up toward her -</span><em class="italics">the man</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Rutledge caught a train Washington bound in -thirty minutes after reading Elise's fragment of a -letter. He sent a telegram to his campaign manager, -Robertson: "I am called north on business. Will -miss Greenville meeting. Represent me there. It is -probable I can make Laurens meeting Tuesday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hurry of his departure over, he sat in the -Pullman and persuaded himself that he was undecided as -to what he should do and was giving a judicial -consideration to the advisability of marrying a woman -sister-in-law to a negro: but the while he thought he -was debating the matter Kale Lineberger was -whisking the New York and New Orleans Limited along -the curves of the Big Thicketty and across the bridges -of the Broad and the Catawba—speeding him on -toward the girl—as fast as an expert handling of -throttle, lever and "air" could turn the -driving-wheels of the mammoth "1231" and keep her feet -on the rails....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Rutledge in the cool of Sunday morning stepped -from the rear sleeper, Jim McQueen climbed down -from the engine, oil-can in hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Jim, taking a look at his watch, -"here's one Southern train under a Washington shed -on time,—if I do say it, as shouldn't." ... Rutledge -had not lost ten seconds in his coming to Elise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buying a copy of </span><em class="italics">The Mail</em><span> from a boy, he took a -cab to his lodgings. From habit he looked first at the -editorials. Turning then to the first page he saw -under a modest headline an accurate account of the -yesterday's episode at Spartanburg, and his statement -that he was not engaged to Miss Phillips. He read -it over a second time. Then, as if by the recurrence -of a lapsed instinct, unthinkingly he turned the leaves -and was reading an item on the "society page."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Virginia Springs, Va.—Her physician states that -Mrs. Hayne Phillips is recovering very slowly from -the effects of the terrible shock caused by Mr. Phillips' -death, and will hardly be strong enough to be removed -to her home in Cleveland before the first of October."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge had been buried in South Carolina politics -for ten weeks and in that time had not seen the -Virginia Springs date-line sometime so familiar to him. -Of course, he thought, Elise is with her mother! and -from the dating-stamp on that letter he had carelessly -assumed she was in Washington. He turned back a -page and glanced hurriedly at a railroad time-card, -then at his watch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here," he called sharply to the cabby, who jerked -up his horse, "you've but three minutes to get me -back to the station—get a move on!" ... Out of -the cab through the waiting-room and at the gate he -rushed. The placid keeper barred the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"C. & O. west!" snapped Rutledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gone." The gateman seemed to be thinking of -something else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long since?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Half minute. Lynchburg, yes, madam—third track."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When's the next?" Rutledge demanded impatiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three-eighteen. Don't block the way."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Desiring to avoid interviews and interviewers, -Rutledge drove to his sleeping quarters and shut himself -in for the seven or eight hours wait. His fever of -impatience had time to rise and fall many times -before the hour and minute of 3:18 came slowly and -grudgingly to pass. He had so desired to tell Elise -that he had come without delay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was very late in the afternoon when he reached -the Virginia Springs hotel. He was somewhat -undecided how to proceed: whether to ask Elise's -permission to call or to present himself unannounced, -whether to inquire of the clerk in the crowded lobby -the way to the Phillips' cottage or to acquire the -information more quietly. He noted that not less than -half a dozen men within ear-shot of the clerk's desk -were at the moment reading various papers that had -Elise's name and his own in display type on their -front pages.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he came down from his room after hurriedly -making himself presentable he met at the foot of the -stairs Mr. Sanders, the managing owner of </span><em class="italics">The Mail</em><span>. -He was surprised, but annoyed more than surprised—for -he must be deferential to his chief,—and -another precious half-hour was consumed in the effort -to pull himself away without giving offence. His only -compensation for the delay was in learning casually -from Mr. Sanders where to seek the Phillips cottage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finally shaking himself loose, he set out with more -impatience than haste to find Elise. When he had -gotten beyond the eyes of the people in the hotel he -put some little speed into his steps. He was striding -along rapidly when just in front of him Katherine -and May Phillips came down out of the hill path into -the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't this Katherine Phillips?" he asked, overtaking them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Katherine, looking doubtfully at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Rutledge, hesitating a moment, "you -permitted me to shake hands with you once. I'm -Mr. Rutledge. Do you remember?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Katherine, though with a shade of -uncertainty in her tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's good. And who is this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May," said Katherine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, certainly. I might have guessed." Rutledge -extended his hand and the little girl took it in -simple confidence. "And where are you two little -ladies going, if I may ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise sent us home," said May, permitting him -still to hold her fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And where is she?" Involuntarily Rutledge -almost came to a halt as he asked the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Way up on the mountain." May waved her small -arm indefinitely back the way they had come.... -Rutledge's steps became slower and slower.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, young ladies, I'm glad to have met you. I -must be getting back. I suppose you can get home -safe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," said Katherine. "It's not far."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So? Well, good-bye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye," said the little girls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge's steps quickened as he came to the path -and turned hurriedly up the hill.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Your woman of the world is marvelous in her -self-possession. In a moment of complete abandon to -thoughts of her love and her lover, Elise looked about -and saw the man coming to her. With her mind so -intent upon him that she wavered for a moment in -doubt lest his appearing was an hallucination, her -manner of greeting him was the perfection of -indifferent politeness—neither warm nor frosty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good afternoon, Mr. Rutledge. What wind blows -you across the world to-day?"—she seemed to know -that he was just passing across the hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With her heart-revealing letter in his pocket—nay -more, committed every word to memory in his -heart—Rutledge was taken aback by the casual way in -which she spoke to him. He knew, of course, that -she had not mailed him the letter and was not aware -that he had it; yet on the basis of the letter he had -conceived words he would say to her and she to him: -but not a word he had prepared was possible at the -moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am—I came—I have an appointment with -Mr. Sanders, the owner of </span><em class="italics">The Mail</em><span>—at the hotel—at -half past eight." The appointment had been made -ten minutes ago. It was the only wind he could think -of that was blowing him across the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man's confusion and seriousness and conscientious -statement of detail ordinarily would have amused -Elise; but she had not for months been in a mood to -be amused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A moment later Rutledge was laughing inwardly at -himself, his confusion gone, his self-possession -perfect. His prosaic accounting for his presence -smothered the tiny romantic flame that had kindled in Elise's -bosom, and she in turn was taken aback: and the man -saw, and knew, and laughed unholily. Not even the -most observing eye, fairly limited, would have -detected the effect upon her; but he had an unfair -advantage—for had he not her letter at that moment -snuggled up close to his heart?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His laugh was not out-breaking, but the girl saw -embarrassment drop as a cloak from his manner, and -a flicker of amusement in his eyes; and the quickness -of the change was a bit bewildering to her. The -word upon her lips was stayed as she looked steadily -at him as if for an explanation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge spoke first,—but he did not presume -upon his unfair advantage. All the tenderness of his -soul was bowing before the clear-eyed young woman -as she stood there so adorable, swinging her black hat -in her hand, the light hill-breeze stirring the loose -strands of sunlit hair about her temples and the folds -of her simple summery mourning dress. If he had -obeyed the impulse he would have knelt to kiss the -hem of that dress. Emboldened by the words of her -letter, he could not even then with unseemly assurance -come to her heart to possess it. Confidently as he -came to claim it, he drew near to her love as one -whose steps approach a shrine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a very pleasant surprise to find you up here," -he said. "And this view is a surprise also—a -revelation. They did not tell me at the hotel that such an -one was to be had from this hill."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise was deceived by his words, and convinced -that the merest chance had appointed this meeting: -and yet she could not dismiss from her mind the -question, "Why did he walk so straight at me as he came -up the hill?" His words, however, put the situation -on an impersonal basis and her reply in kind -established the conventional status.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They talked of indifferent things, and she was -speaking of the splendour that was flaming in the -west when the man's impatience broke the bands he -had put upon it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise, I love you, and I want you to be my wife." It -was abrupt but it was in tones of humble entreaty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Taken completely unawares, Elise turned quickly -about from the sunset to look at him. Her gray eyes -weighed his truth in the balance for five seconds. His -manner was softened and natural, his face and -attitude spoke love in every line. Her eyes dropped -before his, and a rich colour came to her throat, cheek -and temple as she turned again to the golden west.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge made a step toward her as if to take her. -Her hand went up to stay him, though the lovelight -was on her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't," she said gently. She was disposed to -play with her happiness, to hold him at arm's length. -"Why do you come to me again, Mr. Rutledge? -You have had my answer once, and it must have -convinced you." Her words and her manner were -contradictory, and Rutledge was confused. "You plead -without hope. You told the people yesterday that you -had not even the hope to be engaged to me. Why -pursue a hopeless—no, no, don't!" she again -commanded as, ignoring her words, he moved to answer -her smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it's better so, Mr. Rutledge. You yourself -have said it; and you can hardly expect me to gainsay it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despite the smile on her face this was a shot that -went home, and it put Rutledge on the defensive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You could hardly expect me to say less, Elise, -after your denial of your love for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My love for you? Of all the presumption!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise caught her breath at this rejoinder, but it only -gave zest to the game and she tilted her chin -mockingly at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge, with some deliberation, took from an -inside coat pocket a letter, and handed it to her. She -glanced at it in astonished surprise, and her face went -hard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you get this?" she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the mail, yesterday afternoon. Elise, I didn't -delay a moment in coming to you. It came—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So this is what brought you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you thought I sent it?"—her voice was as -hard as her eyes were cold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. But you wrote it, and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a question!—and you came because you -thought a lady called. Certainly you did! You -Southerners are so abominably gallant.... You -have acquitted yourself very handsomely, Mr. Rutledge. -I congratulate you. You have thoroughly -vindicated your claim to the name of -'gentleman'—'Southern gentleman,' if the term is of more -excellence. Assuredly nothing further is required of you. -I ex—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise, you wrote that letter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop. Don't touch me!"—but his left arm went -determinedly about her, and only with both hands -could she hold his right hand away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You wrote that letter, Elise; and you love me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—never—no!" ... Her physical resistance -seemed a match for his strength.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is useless, Elise," he said to her as with tense -muscles he strove to subdue her will and her wilful -pride. "I have always loved you, and now that I -know you love me nothing shall divide us. Why -should you hold out against love?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Elise's resistance was fixed and set. Rutledge -pleaded and begged and made love to her with all -the tenderness of his heart and the energy of his -passion for her, and exerted his physical strength to -break down her defence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me that you wrote it, sweetheart," he -implored and besought her again and again: but she -only shook her head in dissent. He exhausted every -prayer and plea without avail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Desperately resolved to win at any cost, he could -only hold her fast and swear in his heart she should -not escape him. Finally he called upon all his -muscular power to crush her into surrender, and -mercilessly bore in upon her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise bore out against him with all her strength. -Her face became first crimson and then pale with the -effort. Her teeth bit into her lips. Her breathing -became fast and faster. But her will would not bend. -The man's brute force was almost vicious in its -unrestraint. A tear was forced through her tight-shut -lashes, but her chin was still uplifted in defiance -when—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You hurt me, Evans," she said, as her resistance -collapsed and her face fell hidden against his -breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you wrote the letter, Elise?" he contended, -broken-hearted that he had hurt her, but holding her -fiercely yet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, dear;"—and he is holding her so tenderly now.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Weakly she stood, held close within his arms, until -her exhaustion passed, while he murmured to her the -gentle nothings which have been messengers of love -in all ages. Very gently then she freed herself from -his embrace, permitting him still to hold her fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let your own lips tell me you love me, Elise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up at him from under drooping lashes. -Her mental decision came before her actual -complaisance. She revelled for a time in the ecstasy of -her mental abandon to love, and trembled in the very -joy of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, I love you,"—and with closing eyes -she lifted her face in surrender. A long, long caress -intoxicates them, and then, as if in expiation for the -blessed delirium of it—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But not while Helen—not until Helen—oh, it -is too horrible to wait for your own sister to die!"—and -she is crying her heart out against his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge waited till her tears were spent, and then -tenderly he protested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Elise, you will not make any such decree as -that. There's no need that we should wait on Helen's -account."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not while she lives, not while she lives," Elise -repeated, looking into his eyes. "I cannot permit -your love to bring you to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My love is all-sufficient, Elise; and all else is -nothing since you love me. Do not let your pride -defeat us of our happiness, sweetheart. Already it—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pride? I have no pride any more for you, my -dear. I do not conceal my heart's love nor its woes -from you. I believe that love alone, not </span><em class="italics">noblesse</em><span>, -brings you to me now. I love you, yes, I love you, -but my love forbids that I should marry you and -destroy your career and your mother's happiness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mother! What do you know of that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is so, then! I knew it, Evans;—prescience, -I suppose. I am a granddaughter of South Carolina, -you know. I know in my own heart what her sorrow -would be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, Elise, you misjudge my mother. She -would love you as she loves me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Love me, yes—as well as even now I love—your -mother. I believe it and am glad, Evans. But, -with all her loving, she could not put away shame and -grief. I know, dear, I know. She would love me -and—curse me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, you do not know. I am willing to speak -for my mother. She will—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But who can speak for the voters in the coming -election? No, Evans, I must not! It would defeat -you. Your sacrifice would be too great!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There would be no sacrifice. You are worth it -all to me, dearest heart—and more. And beside, -I do not think the voters of my State would—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait," said Elise. "Answer me—and answer -me truly, for remember my pride is gone and only -love is in my heart. Will you win the Senatorship?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The prospect is quite alluring," the man replied. -"The betting is 2 to 1 that the first primary will not -elect, and 9 to 10 that I will defeat Mr. Killam in the -second. Robertson really seems to be convinced that -I am to succeed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how good that is! I pray for you—but -would it not cost you votes, maybe the election, to -marry me?—to be engaged to me, even? Do not -deceive me. Have you not thought of the hurt it -would do your chance of success? Truth and honour, -now,—as I love you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the face of that sacred obligation Rutledge -hesitated an instant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Thought</em><span> of it, yes," he said at last, "but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then the danger is something considerable. I -knew it. My letter's coming was untimely, thanks to -the unknown person who mailed it to you. No, my -dear, I will not marry you. I will not engage myself -to you. I will not defeat you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge gathered her to himself again, confident -to crush her opposition by brute mastery as before. -But there was no physical opposition to be mastered -now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is useless," she said wearily. "I love you too -much to marry you now, Evans."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now?" repeated Rutledge. "If not now, when?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or to engage myself to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her impassive manner was tantalizingly irritating to -him as he laid under tribute every resource of his -mind and heart to overturn her decision. Her -non-resisting resistance was proof against attack. It was -like fighting a fog. Seemingly it offered no -opposition, and yet when he had exhausted himself in -attempts to brush it aside, it was there, filling all space.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" she cried out at last, thoroughly -aroused by his passionate plea for their happiness; -"go! it is sinful even to dream of being happy while -one's sister is so wretched—and I will not have your -blood upon my hands—nor your mother's curse upon me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rutledge gazed steadily at her a few moments,—and -for an answer drew out his watch to see what the -hour was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kiss me good-bye," she said, holding her lips up. -to him simply as a child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Taking her hands and drawing them to his heart he -bent his head down to hers as reverently as if that -gentle, lingering kiss were a sacrament. Turning -away, he went swiftly down the path he had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise sat down upon the boulder from which she -had risen at his coming. With her arms clasping her -knees, her head was bowed above them, and her -shoulders drooped in abject hopelessness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Looking up at the sound of his steps returning, she -half turns to motion him away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no. It means only that I no longer dissemble -before you. Go. There is no hope." And as he -obeys she settles back motionless again into that living -statue of Despair.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Mrs. Hazard read in that Sunday's paper -an account of the Spartanburg meeting she was -dismayed. She had been on the </span><em class="italics">qui vive</em><span> for nearly a -week, though not looking to the newspapers for -information. Rutledge's repudiation of Elise angered -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Monday's papers, however, brought her better -temper. She laughed softly as she read among the -Virginia Springs items that Mr. Rutledge had arrived -there on Sunday afternoon. She was somewhat -mystified, though, by the fact that Mr. Rutledge had been -so hopeless on Saturday afternoon,—and she was -struck with consternation when at last she happened -upon a local item which said Mr. Rutledge had passed -through the city Sunday night on his return to South -Carolina.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think she might have written me!" she said -when Monday's noon mail brought no letter from her -friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going to run over to see Elise this afternoon, -if I can catch the train," she told her husband at -luncheon; and at 3:18 she was on the way. A wreck -ahead of them put her at the Virginia Springs hotel -about bed-time.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"How did you get here? I'm so glad to see you!" -Elise exclaimed when Lola appeared at the cottage -next morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Came last night," Lola said, giving her a hug, -"but a miserable wreck held us up till long after dark. -I would have come directly here even then, but I did -not know how your mother was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is much better," Elise said. "Come right in -to see her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola loved Mrs. Phillips very heartily, but she felt -that Elise was precipitate in taking her immediately -to her mother's room. She went along, of course, and -sat down and talked to the two of them for an hour -or more. There seemed to be no end to the things -they discussed,—the more interminable they were -because of the fact that Mrs. Hazard had not made -her journey for the pleasure of a general conversation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could not understand why Elise did this thing. -She tried to read the young lady's reason in her face, -but that told nothing. It had not the elation that -bespoke a heart joyous in its love. Neither, in the -conventional gayety of the three-cornered conversation, -did it betray a heart that was desolate. The only -thing certain was Elise's evident avoidance of a -</span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> with her best friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It came to pass Mrs. Phillips had to dismiss them -on the plea of exhaustion. Lola apologized profusely. -Elise felt guilty, but she asked for no pardon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young women went out on the broad veranda. -Elise offered Lola the hammock; but Mrs. Hazard -was unconsciously too intent upon a present purpose -to assume such a purposeless attitude. She took a -rocking-chair, but she did not rock. As Elise -arranged herself in the hammock, her friend bethought -herself as to how she should begin her inquiries. She -thought best not to display too minute an acquaintance -with the situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise had indeed some curiosity to know how -Rutledge had come into possession of the letter, and -believed that Lola could throw light on that matter. -But to ask about it was too much like opening the -grave of love: and she recoiled. Looking at her face -in repose, Lola was convinced that things had gone -wrong. This made her take the more thought for an -opening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the hush before the talk would begin, the boy -brought the morning's paper. Lola, seated nearest -the steps, took it from his hand. She did not have to -unfold it to read what was of supreme interest. As -she read, her eyes danced. Half finished, she glanced -from the paper to Elise, whose face was apathy -clothed in flesh. Lola sought the paper again, feeling -that the spooks were playing a trick upon her. It was -very plain reading, however. She crushed the paper -in her lap, and studied the profile of the girl in the -hammock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elise!" she called, still feeling that the spooks -had her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise slowly turned toward her a listless face,—which, -indeed, took on some life at sight of Mrs. Hazard's -excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, full of all guile and subtlety!" Lola -exclaimed with a gasp. "Well, I have never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elise looked at her inquiringly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, miss; while I read you the news."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lola picked up the paper and took time to smooth -out its wrinkles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be impatient, my lady.... Now. Here -is the paragraph. It is part of a special despatch from -Greenville, South Carolina. You have no idea where -that is, of course; but listen:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ex-Senator Rutledge spoke last. He had just -arrived from Washington, unexpectedly, on a delayed -train, and had not had time to brush the coal-dust -from his clothes. He made the usual forcible speech -with which he has dignified the campaign. At the -end of it he said: 'My fellow countrymen, I must be -honest and candid with you. At the Spartanburg -meeting day before yesterday, in answer to the -question of a disreputable dog, I said that I had neither -the honour nor the hope to be engaged to the eldest -daughter of the late President Phillips. That was the -exact truth, my countrymen. To-day I tell you that -I do have the happiness to be engaged to Miss Elise -Phillips and that we will be married on the last -Thursday in next March.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no apathy in Elise's profile when Lola -looked up from her reading. The girl had covered her -face with her hands, and flood upon flood of colour -was racing over it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that 'the exact truth, my countrymen?'" Lola -demanded, standing over the hammock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," Elise said, "why not?"—and Lola -grabbed her with a joyful shout.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't make such a fuss," Elise sputtered from -out the smother of Mrs. Hazard's kisses, "for I -haven't told mamma yet."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"—And look here," a radiant Elise demanded -when the two of them had become somewhat -composed, "I want to know how it came about that a -letter I wrote </span><em class="italics">and burned</em><span> should have—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop, stop, honey; I will not answer.... But -I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> think it is a very bad Samaritan who will not help -Dan Cupid when he's in trouble."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xli"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XLI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The communications between Hayward Graham -and the physician in charge of the private hospital in -which Helen was detained had become caustic. So -much so, that the great specialist had asked Graham -to remove her from his care. This Hayward was -unable to do. Mrs. Phillips was paying the hospital -fees and expenses, and Hayward felt that he could not -keep his wife in proper and befitting manner even if -she were altogether sane and sound in health. He -had no means with which properly to provide for her -if she was really in such a condition as the physician -declared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not being willing or able to assume responsibility -for her removal, he was all the more angered at what -he believed to be the eminent alienist's positive -misrepresentation of the gravity of Helen's ailment and -his unwarranted and cavalier treatment of him, her -husband. Provoked beyond endurance he went at -last to the hospital.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Hayward Graham? Yes. Well, come right -into my office. Now, what may I do for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your last letter about my wife, doctor, was very -unsatisfactory," said Hayward, "and I came to see -about it. Surely she cannot be so ill as you report. -When you admitted her you said she would recover -her health in a very short time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Excuse me, Mr. Graham; but if you wish to take -issue with me as to your wife's condition, I will have -to insist on the request in my letter of yesterday—that -you remove her at once," the physician said with -decision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not desire to do that," Graham replied; "but -I cannot understand what has happened here to change -her prospects of recovery, of which you were so -confident when you admitted her. Besides that I do not -see why you forbid me to communicate with her. She -is certa—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait a moment, Mr. Graham. You must understand -that in our prejudgment of these cases we do -not arrogate to ourselves infallibility; but that in our -treatment of them we do demand for ourselves absolute -authority to say what shall and what shall not be -done, and the very strictest obedience to that. This -is a very peculiar case. It has one element that is -altogether unique. Never before have I met it in my -practice or seen it in the books. I am doing the best -I can with it, and if you do not de—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is not it, doctor. I have no suggestions to -make to you as to the proper treatment, nor any -objection, indeed, to complying with any reasonable -restriction; but when you say that I shall not see or -communicate with my wife at any time, it seems -unreasonable. Does she have no lucid intervals in which -I might see her? Does she never think or speak of -me—never write to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Mr. Graham, she has lucid intervals. She -speaks of you at times, oftentimes. And she writes -to you occasionally, but I have decided that it would -not—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has written to me? And you have not sent me -the letters? Surely, surely, doctor, I am not crazy, -that you should withhold letters from me! Have you -the letters? Has she written often?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has written often; but only on two occasions -was there anything except disjointed sentences. -She—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when was that? And where are the letters?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have them," replied the doctor, "but I do not -think that—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I demand to see them, sir! I'm not in your -hospital for treatment!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," said the doctor, "I'll get them for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went to a filing cabinet and took out a package -of papers and came back across the room with two -sheets of paper which he handed to Hayward, and -watched him as he read them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first was as sweet and gentle and loving a -letter as the heart of man could desire. Some of -the references in it were a little bit obscure and -inaccurate, but Hayward was too much elated with the -tender, petting things it said to notice trifles so -inconsequential. He revelled in it like a hungry man -at a feast. He gulped down its sweetness ravenously: -and took the second. What! The first sentence was -the jab of a misshapen barb—and every following -sentence a twisting of that barb in the flesh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My God, this is awful!" he groaned. "I am -sorry you gave it to me. Have you no other like the -first?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the doctor. "All her other writings -have been mere scraps or incoherent mixtures of such -things as are in the first letter you have there with -such as are in the one you have just read. These are -the only ones in each of which her mood was fixed -and distinct."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward took the first letter and read it over again -as hungrily as at first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In which mood does she seem most to be?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the mood to write that first letter, fortunately; -but the case is peculiar in that very fact. I have -studied it with—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me see her," Hayward broke in. "May I -see her? I must see her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would advise against it," the doctor said, in a -tone and manner that was intended to be a polite -refusal of permission.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> see her, I tell you. I demand to see -her! I am her husband, and if she is quiet to-day I -demand to see and speak to her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Graham, this case is unique, as I have told -you before; and even if she is quiet I think it best -not to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, doctor, stop right there a moment. She is -my wife, and I will not be bound by any orders her -mother may have given you! I am going to see her -this once. I assume all responsibility, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The physician looked at him with a sneer of -contempt on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, Mr. Graham," he said finally. "You -shall see her. But permit me to say that Mrs. Phillips -has had the good sense and the good taste to make -no suggestions to me as to how I shall manage this -case.... Come right along down to the ward, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He led the way down a long hall and, tapping upon -a door, was admitted into a transverse corridor by an -attendant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How is Mrs. Graham?" he asked in an undertone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quiet at the moment, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward heard Helen's voice and started forward -eagerly. The physician caught him by the arm and -restrained him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait," he whispered. "Let's listen a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was hard for Hayward to wait. He could hear -Helen's words coming from the second door down the -corridor, and only the doctor's hand stayed him from -rushing into her presence. They moved quietly nearer -to the door and stood still to hear what she was -saying. As they listened tides of joy rolled in upon -Hayward's heart....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen was humming a song that her husband had -heard of old. Her voice, though somewhat weak, -had its old joyous ring. Hayward could easily -imagine she was coming tripping down to the stable for -her horse to take a morning canter. When she -finished the song and was silent, he noted for the first -time that the grated door to her cell was locked and -its rungs and pickets were heavily padded. He -resented that, and turned upon the physician to protest, -but was held by the doctor's signal for silence. He -obeyed, but his resentment grew as Helen's words -came again in gentle accents to them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was moving slowly about, and was evidently -arranging some flowers—to judge by the things she -was saying to them. It was very kind of the doctor, -her husband thought, to let her have her flowers—she -was always so fond of them.... In half a -minute she was singing a lullaby that she had sung to -their baby. Hayward could hardly contain himself. -And when he heard her walk across the room,—to -a window, it seemed,—and say, in a tone so -expressive of longing: "If Hayward would only come and -take me out to-day! It is such a beautiful day -outside," he snatched his arm free of the doctor's hand -and called to her as he sprang in front of the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen turned at his call, and looked at him for a -space with dilated eyes. In that space Hayward saw -that her cell was padded throughout, floor and walls, -and that there was not a flower or a flower-pot in the -room, that her clothing was torn, her hair streaming -and dishevelled. Before he had time to make any -inferences from these facts, Helen, still gazing at him -with that peculiar stare, started across the room to -him, saying gladly, "Oh, you have come to take me -out driving!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nearly to the door she stopped. Slowly her face -changed its whole expression. The wide-eyed stare -gave way, and the old Helen looked at him a moment -from her eyes. In another moment her face was -convulsed in a spasm of aversion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go away! Go away!" she cried out wildly as she -turned from him. Retreating into a far corner of her -cell, she called to the attendant, "Oh, save me!—take -him away!—keep him away!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Helen, don't you know me?" Hayward -called to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, I know you, but in God's name leave -me! Don't let him in! Don't let him in!" she -pleaded with the physician, who also had come to the -door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll not hurt you, Helen. You know I'll not hurt -you. Don't run from me. You know I'll not hurt you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward motioned to the physician to unlock the -door. Whereupon Helen uttered a blood-curdling -scream as she cowered back into her corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't! Don't!! He has already hurt me, doctor! -Go away! Go </span><em class="italics">away</em><span>! The poison of your blood -is in my veins and will not come out! It is polluted, -forever polluted! A knife—</span><em class="italics">a knife</em><span>! Give me a -knife, doctor, that I may let it out. Please give me -a knife. I have prayed you daily for one and you won't -give it to me. Kill me—</span><em class="italics">save me</em><span>! My blood is -</span><em class="italics">unclean</em><span>, and he did it! My baby was black, </span><em class="italics">black</em><span>!—and -its negro blood is in my veins! A knife, doctor! -A knife!! Oo-o-a-ugh!! I'll tear it out, then!"—and -she clawed and tore and bit at her wrists in an -agony of endeavour to purge her veins of the tainted -fluid which had brought to life that fright, her baby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hayward stood helpless and terror-stricken before -the door, and his staying only drove Helen into more -horrible paroxysms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come away, man, come away," the doctor -commanded; and he obeyed weakly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Great God," he said when he was back in the -physician's office, "that is awful, awful! How can -she live, doctor, if she is shaken and torn by such -dementia as that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot say whether she will live, Mr. Graham," -the doctor replied; "but her periods of dementia give -her the only relief that she enjoys. As a remedy for -exhaustion they are our only hope for her life so far -appearing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't understand," said Graham, "how such -suffering as that can be a relief from exhaustion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not say that," said the doctor. "I said her -</span><em class="italics">periods of dementia</em><span> give her relief from exhaustion. -As I said before, Mr. Graham, this is an absolutely -unique case. It is—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unique in what?" asked Graham.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is unique in this," said the physician: "It is -in her sane moments—in her lucid intervals, when -she is fully conscious of her condition and situation—that -she raves and tears herself and cries out against -the devils that are torturing her. It is in such -moments that her eyes have the light of reason in them. -On the other hand, it is when she is </span><em class="italics">insane</em><span>, -demented—when her mind is unhinged and wandering—that -she is quiet and peaceful and happy. The letter you -enjoyed was written when she was crazy. The one -that tortured you was written when she was clothed -and in her right mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My God, doctor, that cannot be! Do not tell me -that!" cried Hayward, shaken like a reed. "Tell -me whether there is hope for her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As I said, Mr. Graham, the case is unique and -therefore any opinion is nothing more than a bare -opinion, but to me her case is hopeless for the reason -that her violences are based not upon hallucinations—which -might pass—but upon </span><em class="italics">facts</em><span> which no sane -mind can deny. At present the only hope for her life -is that her periods of dementia, with their peace and -quiet, will increase: and that her sane moments, in -which she suffers the tortures of the damned, will -become briefer and fewer. Only that will save her from -death from exhaustion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, doctor! Can't you—"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A soldier in uniform stepped into the recruiting -office, saluted, handed the officer his papers, and stood -at </span><em class="italics">attention</em><span>, saying simply, "I desire to re-enlist."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officer unfolded the "honourable discharge" -and read aloud, "Sergeant John Hayward Graham." Looking -the paper over, he turned to Graham.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, this is all right—if you are physically fit; -but you have waited so long you have lost your rank -and will have to begin at the very bottom again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir. I understand, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, the clerk can make out the new papers -from these while the surgeon looks you over. Where -do you wish to serve—in the United States or the -Philippines?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anywhere my country needs a man, sir."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>THE END.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">From</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">L. C. Page & Company's -<br />Announcement List -<br />of New Fiction</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Call of the South</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>BY ROBERT LEE DURHAM. Cloth decorative, with 6 -illustrations by Henry Roth . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A very strong novel dealing with the race problem in this -country. The principal theme is the </span><em class="italics">danger</em><span> to society from the -increasing miscegenation of the black and white races, and the -encouragement it receives in the social amenities extended to -negroes of distinction by persons prominent in politics, -philanthropy and educational endeavor; and the author, a Southern -lawyer, hopes to call the attention of the whole country to the -need of earnest work toward its discouragement. He has -written an absorbing drama of life which appeals with apparent -logic and of which the inevitable denouement comes as a final -and convincing climax.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The author may be criticized by those who prefer not to face -the hour "When Your Fear Cometh As Desolation And Your -Destruction Cometh As A Whirlwind;" but his honesty of -purpose in the frank expression of a danger so well understood -in the South, which, however, many in the North refuse to -recognize, while others have overlooked it, will be upheld by -the sober second thought of the majority of his readers.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The House in the Water</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>BY CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS, author of "The Haunters of -the Silences," "Red Fox," "The Heart of the Ancient -Wood," etc. With cover design, sixteen full-page drawings, -and many minor decorations by Charles Livingston Bull. -Cloth decorative, with decorated wrapper . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Professor Roberts's new book of nature and animal life is one -long story in which he tells of the life of that wonderfully acute -and tireless little worker, the beaver. "The Boy" and Jabe -the Woodsman again appear, figuring in the story even more -than they did in "Red Fox;" and the adventures of the boy -and the beaver make most absorbing reading for young and -old.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The following chapter headings for "The House in the -Water" will give an idea of the fascinating reading to come:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>THE SOUND IN THE NIGHT (Beavers at Work).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>THE BATTLE IN THE POND (Otter and Beaver).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>IN THE UNDER-WATER WORLD (Home Life of the Beaver).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>NIGHT WATCHERS ("The Boy" and Jabe and a Lynx See -the Beavers at Work).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>DAM REPAIRING AND DAM BUILDING (A "House-raising" Bee).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>THE PERIL OF THE TRAPS (Jabe Shows "The Boy").</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>WINTER UNDER WATER (Safe from All but Man).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>THE SAVING OF BOY'S POND ("The Boy" Captures Two Outlaws).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As a writer about animals, Mr. Roberts occupies an enviable -place. He is the most literary, as well as the most imaginative -and vivid of all the nature writers."—</span><em class="italics">Brooklyn Eagle</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His animal stories are marvels of sympathetic science and -literary exactness."—</span><em class="italics">New York World</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poet Laureate of the Animal World, Professor Roberts -displays the keenest powers of observation closely interwoven -with a fine imaginative discretion."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Transcript</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Captain Love</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>THE HISTORY OF A MOST ROMANTIC EVENT IN THE LIFE OF -AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN DURING THE REIGN OF HIS MAJESTY -GEORGE THE FIRST. CONTAINING INCIDENTS OF COURTSHIP -AND DANGER AS RELATED IN THE CHRONICLES OF THE PERIOD -AND NOW SET DOWN IN PRINT</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>BY THEODORE ROBERTS, author of "The Red Feathers," -"Brothers of Peril," etc. Cloth decorative, illustrated by -Frank T. Merrill . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A stirring romance with its scene laid in the troublous times -in England when so many broken gentlemen foregathered with -the "Knights of the Road;" when a man might lose part of -his purse to his opponent at "White's" over the dice, and the -next day be relieved of the rest of his money on some lonely -heath at the point of a pistol in the hand of the self-same gambler.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, if the setting be similar to other novels of the period, the -story is not. Mr. Roberts's work is always original, his style is -always graceful, his imagination fine, his situations refreshingly -novel. In his new book he has excelled himself. It is -undoubtedly the best thing he has done.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Bahama Bill</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>BY T. JENKINS HAINS, author of "The Black Barque," -"The Voyage of the Arrow," etc. Cloth decorative, with -frontispiece in colors by H. R. Reuterdahl . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The scene of Captain Hains's new sea story is laid in the -region of the Florida Keys. His hero, the giant mate of the -wrecking sloop, </span><em class="italics">Sea-Horse</em><span>, while not one to stir the emotions -of gentle feminine readers, will arouse interest and admiration -in men who appreciate bravery and daring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His adventures while plying his desperate trade are full of -the danger that holds one at a sharp tension, and the reader -forgets to be on the side of law and order in his eagerness to see -the "wrecker" safely through his exciting escapades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Hains's descriptions of life at sea are vivid, absorbingly -frank and remarkably true. "Bahama Bill" ranks high as -a stirring, realistic, unsoftened and undiluted tale of the sea, -chock full of engrossing interest.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Matthew Porter</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>BY GAMALIEL BRADFORD, JR., author of "The Private Tutor," -etc. With a frontispiece in colors by Griswold Tyng . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When a young man has birth and character and strong ambition -it is safe to predict for him a brilliant career; and, when -The Girl comes into his life, a romance out of the ordinary. -Such a man is Matthew Porter, and the author has drawn him -with fine power.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Bradford has given us a charming romance with an -unusual motive. Effective glimpses of the social life of Boston -form a contrast to the more serious purpose of the story; but, -in "Matthew Porter," it is the conflict of personalities, the -development of character, the human element which grips the -attention and compels admiration.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Anne of Green Gables</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>BY L. M. MONTGOMERY. Cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every one, young or old, who reads the story of "Anne of -Green Gables," will fall in love with her, and tell their friends -of her irresistible charm. In her creation of the young heroine -of this delightful tale Miss Montgomery will receive praise for -her fine sympathy with and delicate appreciation of sensitive -and imaginative girlhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The story would take rank for the character of Anne alone; -but in the delineation of the characters of the old farmer, and -his crabbed, dried-up spinster sister who adopt her, the author -has shown an insight and descriptive power which add much to -the fascination of the book.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Spinster Farm</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>BY HELEN M. WINSLOW, author of "Literary Boston." Illustrated -from original photographs . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whatever Miss Winslow writes is good, for she is in accord -with the life worth living. The Spinster, her niece "Peggy," -the Professor, and young Robert Graves,—not forgetting -Hiram, the hired man,—are the characters to whom we are -introduced on "Spinster Farm." Most of the incidents and -all of the characters are real, as well as the farm and farmhouse, -unchanged since Colonial days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Light-hearted character sketches, and equally refreshing and -unexpected happenings are woven together with a thread of -happy romance of which Peggy of course is the vivacious heroine. -Alluring descriptions of nature and country life are given with -fascinating bits of biography of the farm animals and household -pets.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Selections from -<br />L. C. Page and Company's -<br />List of Fiction</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">WORKS OF -ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics medium">Each one vol., library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.50</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Flight of Georgiana</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A ROMANCE OF THE DAYS OF THE YOUNG PRETENDER. Illustrated -by H. C. Edwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A love-story in the highest degree, a dashing story, and a -remarkably well finished piece of work."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago Record-Herald</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Bright Face of Danger</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Being an account of some adventures of Henri de Launay, son of -the Sieur de la Tournoire. Illustrated by H. C. Edwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Stephens has fairly outdone himself. We thank him -heartily. The story is nothing if not spirited and entertaining, -rational and convincing."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Transcript</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Mystery of Murray Davenport</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(40th thousand.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is easily the best thing that Mr. Stephens has yet done. -Those familiar with his other novels can best judge the measure of -this praise, which is generous."—Buffalo News.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Captain Ravenshaw</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>OR, THE MAID OF CHEAPSIDE. (52d thousand.) A romance -of Elizabethan London. Illustrations by Howard Pyle and other -artists.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not since the absorbing adventures of D'Artagnan have we had -anything so good in the blended vein of romance and comedy.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Continental Dragoon</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A ROMANCE OF PHILIPSE MANOR HOUSE IN 1778. (53d -thousand.) Illustrated by H. C. Edwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A stirring romance of the Revolution, with its scene laid on -neutral territory.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Philip Winwood</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(70th thousand.) A Sketch of the Domestic History of an -American Captain in the War of Independence, embracing events -that occurred between and during the years 1763 and 1785 in -New York and London. Illustrated by E. W. D. Hamilton.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">An Enemy to the King</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(70th thousand.) From the "Recently Discovered Memoirs of -the Sieur de la Tournoire." Illustrated by H. De M. Young.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An historical romance of the sixteenth century, describing the -adventures of a young French nobleman at the court of Henry III., -and on the field with Henry IV.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Road to Paris</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A STORY OF ADVENTURE. (35th thousand.) Illustrated by -H. C. Edwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An historical romance of the eighteenth century, being an account -of the life of an American gentleman adventurer of Jacobite -ancestry.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">A Gentleman Player</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>HIS ADVENTURES ON A SECRET MISSION FOR QUEEN ELIZABETH. -(48th thousand.) Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The story of a young gentleman who joins Shakespeare's -company of players, and becomes a friend and protégé of the -great poet.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Clementina's Highwayman</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Stephens has put into his new book, "Clementina's Highway -man," the finest qualities of plot, construction, and literary finish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The story is laid in the mid-Georgian period. It is a dashing, -sparkling, vivacious comedy, with a heroine as lovely and changeable -as an April day, and a hero all ardor and daring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The exquisite quality of Mr. Stephens's literary style clothes the -story in a rich but delicate word-fabric; and never before have his -setting and atmosphere been so perfect.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">WORKS OF -<br />CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Haunters of the Silences</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cloth, one volume, with many drawings by Charles Livingston -Bull, four of which are in full color . . . $2.00</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stories in Mr. Roberts's new collection are the strongest and -best he has ever written.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He has largely taken for his subjects those animals rarely met -with in books, whose lives are spent "In the Silences," where they -are the supreme rulers. Mr. Roberts has written of them -sympathetically, as always, but with fine regard for the -scientific truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As a writer about animals, Mr. Roberts occupies an enviable -place. He is the most literary, as well as the most imaginative -and vivid of all the nature writers."—</span><em class="italics">Brooklyn Eagle</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His animal stories are marvels of sympathetic science and -literary exactness."—</span><em class="italics">New York World</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Red Fox</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>THE STORY OF HIS ADVENTUROUS CAREER IN THE RINGWAAK -WILDS, AND OF HIS FINAL TRIUMPH OVER THE ENEMIES OF -HIS KIND. With fifty illustrations, including frontispiece in -color and cover design by Charles Livingston Bull.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Square quarto, cloth decorative . . . $2.00</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Infinitely more wholesome reading than the average tale of -sport, since it gives a glimpse of the hunt from the point of view of -the hunted."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Transcript</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True in substance but fascinating as fiction. It will interest -old and young, city-bound and free-footed, those who know animals -and those who do not."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago Record-Herald</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A brilliant chapter in natural history."—</span><em class="italics">Philadelphia North -American</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Kindred of the Wild</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A BOOK OF ANIMAL LIFE. With fifty-one full-page plates and -many decorations from drawings by Charles Livingston Bull. -Square quarto, decorative cover . . . $2.00</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is in many ways the most brilliant collection of animal stories -that has appeared; well named and well done."—John Burroughs.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Watchers of the Trails</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A companion volume to "The Kindred of the Wild." With -forty-eight full-page plates and many decorations from drawings -by Charles Livingston Bull.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Square quarto, decorative cover . . . $2.00</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These stories are exquisite in their refinement, and yet robust -in their appreciation of some of the rougher phases of woodcraft. -Among the many writers about animals, Mr. Roberts occupies an -enviable place.—</span><em class="italics">The Outlook</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is a book full of delight. An additional charm lies in -Mr. Bull's faithful and graphic illustrations, which in fashion all their -own tell the story of the wild life, illuminating and supplementing -the pen pictures of the author."—</span><em class="italics">Literary Digest</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Heart That Knows</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A novel of singularly effective strength, luminous in literary -color, rich in its passionate, yet tender drama."—</span><em class="italics">New York Globe</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Earth's Enigmas</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A new edition of Mr. Roberts's first volume of fiction, published -1892, and out of print for several years, with the addition of -three new stories, and ten illustrations by Charles Livingston -Bull.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will rank high among collections of short stories. In -'Earth's Enigmas' is a wider range of subject than in the 'Kindred -of the Wild.'"—</span><em class="italics">Review from advance sheets of the illustrated -edition by Tiffany Blake in the Chicago Evening Post</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Barbara Ladd</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With four illustrations by Frank Verbeck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From the opening chapter to the final page Mr. Roberts lures -us on by his rapt devotion to the changing aspects of Nature and -by his keen and sympathetic analysis of human character."—</span><em class="italics">Boston -Transcript</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Cameron of Lochiel</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Translated from the French of Philippe Aubert de Gaspé, with -frontispiece in color by H. C. Edwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Professor Roberts deserves the thanks of his reader for giving -a wider audience an opportunity to enjoy this striking bit of French -Canadian literature."—</span><em class="italics">Brooklyn Eagle</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not often in these days of sensational and philosophical -novels that one picks up a book that so touches the -heart."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Transcript</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Prisoner of Mademoiselle</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With frontispiece by Frank T. Merrill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A tale of Acadia,—a land which is the author's heart's delight,—of -a valiant young lieutenant and a winsome maiden, who first -captures and then captivates.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is the kind of a story that makes one grow younger, more -innocent, more light-hearted. Its literary quality is impeccable. -It is not every day that such a heroine blossoms into even -temporary existence, and the very name of the story bears a breath of -charm."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago Record-Herald</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Heart of the Ancient Wood</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With six illustrations by James L. Weston.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, decorative cover . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One of the most fascinating novels of recent days."—</span><em class="italics">Boston -Journal</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A classic twentieth-century romance."—</span><em class="italics">New York Commercial -Advertiser</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Forge in the Forest</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Being the Narrative of the Acadian Ranger, Jean de Mer, -Seigneur de Briart, and how he crossed the Black Abbé, and of -his adventures in a strange fellowship. Illustrated by Henry -Sandham, R.C.A.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth, gilt top . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A story of pure love and heroic adventure.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">By the Marshes of Minas</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth, gilt top, illustrated . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most of these romances are in the author's lighter and more -playful vein; each is a unit of absorbing interest and exquisite -workmanship.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">A Sister to Evangeline</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Being the Story of Yvonne de Lamourie, and how she went into -exile with the villagers of Grand Pré.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth, gilt top, illustrated . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Swift action, fresh atmosphere, wholesome purity, deep passion, -and searching analysis characterize this strong novel.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">WORKS OF -<br />LILIAN BELL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Carolina Lee</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a frontispiece in color from an oil painting by Dora Wheeler -Keith. Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A Christian Science novel, full of action, alive with incident and -brisk with pithy dialogue and humor."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Transcript</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A charming portrayal of the attractive life of the South, -refreshing as a breeze that blows through a pine forest."—</span><em class="italics">Albany -Times-Union</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Hope Loring</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tall, slender, and athletic, fragile-looking, yet with nerves and -sinews of steel under the velvet flesh, frank as a boy and tender and -beautiful as a woman, free and independent, yet not bold—such is -'Hope Loring,' by long odds the subtlest study that has yet been -made of the American girl."—</span><em class="italics">Dorothy Dix, in the New York -American</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Abroad with the Jimmies</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a portrait, in duogravure, of the author.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Full of ozone, of snap, of ginger, of swing and -momentum."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago Evening Post</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">At Home with the Jardines</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A companion volume to "Abroad with the Jimmies"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bits of gay humor, sunny, whimsical philosophy and keen -indubitable insight into the less evident aspects and workings of pure -human nature, with a slender thread of a cleverly extraneous love -story, keep the interest of the reader fresh."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago -Record-Herald</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Interference of Patricia</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a frontispiece from drawing by Frank T. Merrill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Small 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is life and action and brilliancy and dash and cleverness -and a keen appreciation of business ways in this story."—</span><em class="italics">Grand -Rapids Herald</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A story full of keen and flashing satire."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago -Record-Herald</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">A Book of Girls</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a frontispiece.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Small 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.25</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The stories are all eventful and have effective humor."—</span><em class="italics">New -York Sun</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lilian Bell surely understands girls, for she depicts all the -variations of girl nature so charmingly."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago Journal</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">The above two volumes boxed in special holiday dress, per set, $2.50</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">WORKS OF -<br />NATHAN GALLIZIER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Sorceress of Rome</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With four drawings in color by "The Kinneys."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The love-story of Otto III., the boy emperor, and Stephania, wife -of the Senator Crescentius of Rome, has already been made the -basis of various German poems and plays.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Gallizier has used it for the main theme of "The Sorceress -of Rome," the second book of his trilogy of romances on the mediaeval -life of Italy. In detail and finish the book is a brilliant piece -of work, describing clearly an exciting and strenuous period.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Castel del Monte</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With six illustrations by H. C. Edwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A powerful romance of the fall of the Hohenstaufen dynasty in -Italy and the overthrow of Manfred by Charles of Anjou, the -champion of Pope Clement IV.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is color; there is sumptuous word painting in these pages; -the action is terrific at times; vividness and life are in every part; and -brilliant descriptions entertain the reader and give a singular -fascination to the tale."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago Record-Herald</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">WORKS OF -<br />MORLEY ROBERTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Rachel Marr</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A novel of tremendous force, with a style that is sure, luxuriant, -compelling, full of color and vital force."—</span><em class="italics">Elia W. Peattie in -Chicago Tribune</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In atmosphere, if nothing else, the story is absolutely -perfect."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Transcript</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Lady Penelope</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With nine illustrations by Arthur W. Brown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fresh and original bit of comedy as amusing as it is -audacious."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Transcript</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Idlers</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With frontispiece in color by John C. Frohn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is absorbing as the devil. Mr. Roberts gives us the antithesis -of 'Rachel Marr' in an equally masterful and convincing -work."—</span><em class="italics">The New York Sun</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a work of great ethical force."—</span><em class="italics">Professor Charles -G. D. Roberts</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Promotion of the Admiral</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If any one writes better sea stories than Mr. Roberts, we don't -know who it is; and if there is a better sea story of its kind than -this it would be a joy to have the pleasure of reading it."—</span><em class="italics">New -York Sun</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a hearty laugh in every one of these stories."—</span><em class="italics">The -Reader</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Flying Cloud</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece . . . $1.50</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">WORKS OF -<br />ALICE MacGOWAN AND GRACE MacGOWAN COOKE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Return</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A STORY OF THE SEA ISLANDS IN 1739. With six illustrations -by C. D. Williams.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So rich in color is this story, so crowded with figures, it seems -like a bit of old Italian wall painting, a piece of modern tapestry, -rather than a modern fabric woven deftly from the threads of fact -and fancy gathered up in this new and essentially practical country, -and therein lies its distinctive value and excellence."—</span><em class="italics">N. Y. Sun</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Grapple</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With frontispiece in color by Arthur W. Brown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The movement of the tale is swift and dramatic. The story is -so original, so strong, and so finely told that it deserves a large and -thoughtful public. It is a book to read with both enjoyment and -enlightenment."—</span><em class="italics">N. Y. Times Saturday Review of Books</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Last Word</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated with seven portraits of the heroine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When one receives full measure to overflowing of delight in a -tender, charming, and wholly fascinating new piece of fiction, the -enthusiasm is apt to come uppermost."—</span><em class="italics">Louisville Post</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Huldah</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With illustrations by Fanny Y. Cory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here we have the great-hearted, capable woman of the Texas -plains dispensing food and genial philosophy to rough-and-ready -cowboys. Her sympathy takes the form of happy laughter, and -her delightfully funny phrases amuse the fancy and stick in one's -memory.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Richard Elliott, Financier</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By GEORGE CARLING.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Clever in plot and effective in style. The author has seized on -some of the most sensational features of modern finance and uses -them pretty much as Alexandre Dumas did."—</span><em class="italics">N. Y. Post</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">WORKS OF -<br />G. SIDNEY PATERNOSTER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Motor Pirate</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, with frontispiece . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Its originality, exciting adventures, into which is woven a -charming love theme, and its undercurrent of fun furnish a dashing -detective story which a motor-mad world will thoroughly enjoy -reading."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Herald</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Cruise of the Motor-Boat Conqueror</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Being the Further Adventures of the Motor Pirate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, with a frontispiece by Frank -T. Merrill . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As a land pirate Mannering was a marvel of resource, but as a -sea-going buccaneer he is almost a miracle of devilish ingenuity. -His exploits are wonderful and plausible, for he avails himself of -every modern device and applies recent inventions to the -accomplishment of all his pet schemes."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago Evening Post</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Lady of the Blue Motor</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece by John C. Frohn . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Lady of the Blue Motor is an audacious heroine who drove -her mysterious car at breakneck speed. Her plea for assistance in -an adventure promising more than a spice of danger could not of -course be disregarded by any gallant fellow motorist. Across France -they tore and across the English Channel. There, the escapade past, -he lost her. Mr. Paternoster, however, allows the reader to follow -their separate adventures until the Lady of the Blue Motor is found -again and properly vindicated of all save womanly courage and -affection. A unique romance, one continuous exciting series of -adventure.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Treasure Trail. By FRANK L. POLLOCK.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, with a frontispiece by Louis -D. Cowing . . . $1.25</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A clever story, which describes a series of highly exciting -adventures of a bold lot of rascals."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Transcript</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">WORKS OF -<br />T. JENKINS HAINS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Black Barque</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With five illustrations by W. Herbert Dunton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>According to a high naval authority, whose name must be withheld, -this is one of the best sea stories ever offered to the public. -"The Black Barque" is a story of slavery and piracy upon the high -seas about 1815, and is written with a thorough knowledge of -deep-water sailing.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Windjammers</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A collection of short sea stories unmatched for interest."—</span><em class="italics">New -York Sun</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Voyage of the Arrow</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With six illustrations by H. C. Edwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A capital story, full of sensation and excitement, and a rollicking -sea story of the good old-fashioned sort. The reader who begins -this exciting voyage will sail on at the rate of twelve knots an hour -until it is finished."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Transcript</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">WORKS OF -<br />REGINALD WRIGHT KAUFFMAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Miss Frances Baird, Detective</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A PASSAGE FROM HER MEMOIRS.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, with a frontispiece by -W. F. Kirkpatrick . . . $1.25</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Baird ravels and unravels circumstantial evidence in her -search for the murderer in a most bewildering and thoroughly -feminine fashion.... The story is brimful of excitement, and no little -ingenuity is displayed in its construction."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Herald</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">Jarvis of Harvard</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated by Robert Edwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strong and well written novel, dealing with the life of a young -man in a modern college. Studies, athletics, social life, and the -outside influences surrounding the youth of a college town are clearly -depicted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Kauffman's treatment of his subject is dignified, restrained, -sincere, and in admirable good taste throughout."—</span><em class="italics">New York Mail -and Express</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">WORKS OF -<br />ARTHUR MORRISON</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Green Diamond</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, with six illustrations . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A detective story of unusual ingenuity and -intrigue."—</span><em class="italics">Brooklyn Eagle</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Red Triangle</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Being some further chronicles of Martin Hewitt, investigator.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better than Sherlock Holmes."—</span><em class="italics">New York Tribune</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The reader who has a grain of fancy or imagination may be defied -to lay this book down, once he has begun it, until the last word -has been reached."—</span><em class="italics">Philadelphia North American</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Chronicles of Martin Hewitt</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, with six illustrations by -W. Kirkpatrick . . . $1.50</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will appeal strongly to every lover of the best detective -fiction."—</span><em class="italics">N. Y. Sun</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">WORKS OF -<br />STEPHEN CONRAD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="bold">The Second Mrs. Jim</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Large l6mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.00</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here is a character as original and witty as 'Mr. Dooley' or -'the self-made merchant.' The realm of humorous fiction is now -invaded by the stepmother. 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