MR. CREWE'S CAREER

By Winston Churchill

BOOK 2. 

CHAPTER XI

THE HOPPER

It is certainly not the function of a romance to relate, with theexactness of a House journal, the proceedings of a Legislature. Somebodyhas likened the state-house to pioneer Kentucky, a dark and bloody groundover which the battles of selfish interests ebbed and flowed, --no placefor an innocent and unselfish bystander like Mr. Crewe, who desired onlyto make of his State an Utopia; whose measures were for the public good--not his own. But if any politician were fatuous enough to believe thatHumphrey Crewe was a man to introduce bills and calmly await their fate;a man who, like Senator Sanderson, only came down to the capital when hewas notified by telegram, that politician was entirely mistaken. 

No sooner had his bills been assigned to the careful and justconsideration of the committees in charge of the Honourable Brush Bascom, Mr. Botcher, and others than Mr. Crewe desired of each a day for ahearing. Every member of the five hundred was provided with a copy; nay, nearly every member was personally appealed to, to appear and speak forthe measures. Foresters, road builders, and agriculturists (expensespaid) were sent for from other States; Mr. Ball and others came down fromLeith, and gentlemen who for a generation had written letters to thenewspapers turned up from other localities. In two cases the largestcommittee rooms proved too small for the gathering which was the resultof Mr. Crewe's energy, and the legislative hall had to be lighted. TheState Tribune gave column reports of the hearings, and little editorialpushes besides. And yet, when all was over, when it had been provedbeyond a doubt that, if the State would consent to spend a little money, she would take the foremost rank among her forty odd sisters forprogression, the bills were still under consideration by those hardheadedstatesmen, Mr. Bascom and Mr. Botcher and their associates. 

It could not be because these gentlemen did not know the arguments andsee the necessity. Mr. Crewe had had them to dinner, and had spent somuch time in their company presenting his case--to which they absolutelyagreed--that they took to a forced seclusion. The member from Leith alsowrote letters and telegrams, and sent long typewritten arguments anddocuments to Mr. Flint. Mr. Crewe, although far from discouraged, beganto think there was something mysterious about all this seeminglyunnecessary deliberation. 

Mr. Crewe, though of great discernment, was only mortal, and while he wasfighting his battle single-handed, how was he to know that the gods abovehim were taking sides and preparing for conflict? The gods do not giveout their declarations of war for publication to the Associated Press;and old Tom Gaylord, who may be likened to Mars, had no intention ofsending Jupiter notice until he got his cohorts into line. The strife, because it was to be internecine, was the more terrible. Hitherto theGaylord Lumber Company, like the Winona Manufacturing Company ofNewcastle (the mills of which extended for miles along the Tyne), hadbeen a faithful ally of the Empire; and, on occasions when it was needed, had borrowed the Imperial army to obtain grants, extensions, andfranchises. 

The fact is that old Tom Gaylord, in the autumn previous, had quarreledwith Mr. Flint about lumber rates, which had been steadily rising. Mr. Flint had been polite, but firm; and old Tom, who, with all histremendous properties, could ship by no other railroad than theNortheastern, had left the New York office in a black rage. A moreinnocent citizen than old Tom would have put his case (which was withoutdoubt a strong one) before the Railroad Commission of the State, but oldTom knew well enough that the Railroad Commission was in reality aneconomy board of the Northeastern system, as much under Mr. Flint'sorders as the conductors and brakemen. Old Tom, in consulting the map, conceived an unheard-of effrontery, a high treason which took away thebreath of his secretary and treasurer when it was pointed out to him. Theplan contemplated a line of railroad from the heart of the lumber regionsdown the south side of the valley of the Pingsquit to Kingston, where thelumber could take to the sea. In short, it was a pernicious revival of anobsolete state of affairs, competition, and if persisted in, involvednothing less than a fight to a finish with the army, the lobby of theNortheastern. Other favoured beings stood aghast when they heard of it, and hastened to old Tom with timely counsel; but he had reached a frameof mind which they knew well. He would listen to no reason, andmaintained stoutly that there were other lawyers in the world as able inpolitical sagacity and lobby tactics as Hilary Vane; the HonourableGalusha Hammer, for instance, an old and independent and wary war-horsewho had more than once wrung compromises out of the Honourable Hilary. The Honourable Galusha Hammer was sent for, and was now industriously, ifquietly and unobtrusively, at work. The Honourable Hilary was likewise atwork, equally quietly and unobtrusively. When the powers fall out, theydo not open up at once with long-distance artillery. There is always achance of a friendly settlement. The news was worth a good deal, forinstance, to Mr. Peter Pardriff (brother of Paul, of Ripton), whorefrained, with praiseworthy self-control, from publishing it in theState Tribune, although the temptation to do so must have been great. Andmost of the senatorial twenty saw the trouble coming and braced theirbacks against it, but in silence. The capital had seen no such war asthis since the days of Jethro Bass. 

In the meantime Mr. Crewe, blissfully ignorant of this impendingconflict, was preparing a speech on national affairs and national issueswhich was to startle an unsuspecting State. Mrs. Pomfret, who hadreceived many clippings and pamphlets, had written him weekly letters ofa nature spurring to his ambition, which incidentally contained manyreferences to Alice's interest in his career. And Mr. Crewe's mind, whennot intent upon affairs of State, sometimes reverted pleasantly tothoughts of Victoria Flint; it occurred to him that the Duncan house waslarge enough for entertaining, and that he might invite Mrs. Pomfret tobring Victoria and the inevitable Alice to hear his oration, for whichMr. Speaker Doby had set a day. 

In his desire to give other people pleasure, Mr. Crewe took the troubleto notify a great many of his friends and acquaintances as to the day ofhis speech, in case they might wish to travel to the State capital andhear him deliver it. Having unexpectedly received in the mail a chequefrom Austen Vane in settlement of the case of the injured horse, Austenwas likewise invited. 

Austen smiled when he opened the letter, and with its businesslikecontents there seemed to be wafted from it the perfume and suppliance ofa September day in the Vale of the Blue. From the window of his backoffice, looking across the railroad tracks, he could see Sawanec, pale inher winter garb against a pale winter sky, and there arose in him the oldrestless desire for the woods and fields which at times was almostirresistible. His thoughts at length descending from the azure aboveSawanec, his eyes fell again on Mr. Crewe's typewritten words: "It may beof interest to you that I am to deliver, on the 15th instant, and as theChairman of the House Committee on National Affairs, a speech uponnational policies which is the result of much thought, and which touchesupon such material needs of our State as can be supplied by the FederalGovernment. "

Austen had a brief fancy, whimsical as it was, of going to hear him. Mr. Crewe, as a type absolutely new to him, interested him. He had followedthe unusual and somewhat surprising career of the gentleman from Leithwith some care, even to the extent of reading of Mr. Crewe's activitiesin the State Tribunes which had been sent him. Were such qualificationsas Mr. Crewe possessed, he wondered, of a kind to sweep their possessorinto high office? Were industry, persistency, and a capacity for takingadvantage of a fair wind sufficient?

Since his return from Pepper County, Austen Vane had never been to theState capital during a session, although it was common for young lawyersto have cases before the Legislature. It would have been difficult to saywhy he did not take these cases, aside from the fact that they were notvery remunerative. On occasions gentlemen from different parts of theState, and some from outside of it who had certain favours to ask at thehands of the lawmaking body, had visited his back office and closed thedoor after them, and in the course of the conversation had referred tothe relationship of the young lawyer to Hilary Vane. At such times Austenwould freely acknowledge the debt of gratitude he owed his father forbeing in the world--and refer them politely to Mr. Hilary Vane himself. In most cases they had followed his advice, wondering not a little atthis isolated example of quixotism. 

During the sessions, except for a day or two at week ends which wereoften occupied with conferences, the Honourable Hilary's office wasdeserted; or rather, as we have seen, his headquarters were removed toroom Number Seven in the Pelican Hotel at the capital. Austen got many ofthe lay clients who came to see his father at such times; and--withoutgiving an exaggerated idea of his income--it might be said that he wasbeginning to have what may be called a snug practice for a lawyer of hisexperience. In other words, according to Mr. Tooting, who took an intenseinterest in the matter, "not wearing the collar" had been more of afinancial success for Austen than that gentleman had imagined. Thereproved to be many clients to whom the fact that young Mr. Vane did notcarry a "retainer pass" actually appealed. These clients paid theirbills, but they were neither large nor influential, as a rule, with thenotable exception of the Gaylord Lumber Company, where the matters fortrial were not large. If young Tom Gaylord had had his way, Austen wouldhave been the chief counsel for the corporation. 

To tell the truth, Austen Vane had a secret aversion to going to thecapital during a session, a feeling that such a visit would cause himunhappiness. In spite of his efforts, and indeed in spite of Hilary's, Austen and his father had grown steadily apart. They met in the officehallway, in the house in Hanover Street when Hilary came home to sleep, and the elder Mr. Vane was not a man to thrive on small talk. His worldwas the battlefield from which he directed the forces of the greatcorporation which he served, and the cherished vision of a son in whom hecould confide his plans, upon whose aid and counsel he could lean, wasgone forever. Hilary Vane had troublesome half-hours, but on the whole hehad reached the conclusion that this son, like Sarah Austen, was one ofthose inexplicable products in which an extravagant and inscrutablenature sometimes indulged. On the rare evenings when the two were at hometogether, the Honourable Hilary sat under one side of the lamp with apile of documents and newspapers, and Austen under the other with a bookfrom the circulating library. No public questions could be broached uponwhich they were not as far apart as the poles, and the Honourable Hilaryput literature in the same category as embroidery. Euphrasia, when shepaused in her bodily activity to darn their stockings, used to glance atthem covertly from time to time, and many a silent tear of which theyknew nothing fell on her needle. 

On the subject of his protracted weekly absences at the State capital, the Honourable Hilary was as uncommunicative as he would have been had heretired for those periods to a bar-room. He often grunted and cleared histhroat and glanced at his son when their talk bordered upon theseabsences; and he was even conscious of an extreme irritation againsthimself as well as Austen because of the instinct that bade him keepsilent. He told himself fiercely that he had nothing to be ashamed of, nor would he have acknowledged that it was a kind of shame that bade himrefrain even from circumstantial accounts of what went on in room NumberSeven of the Pelican. He had an idea that Austen knew and silentlycondemned; and how extremely maddening was this feeling to the HonourableHilary may well be imagined. All his life long he had deemed himselfmorally invulnerable, and now to be judged and ethically found wanting bythe son of Sarah Austen was, at times, almost insupportable. Were thestandards of a long life to be suddenly reversed by a prodigal son?

To get back to Austen. On St. Valentine's Day of that year when, to tellthe truth, he was seated in his office scribbling certain descriptions ofnature suggested by the valentines in Mr. Hayman's stationery store, thepostman brought in a letter from young Tom Gaylord. Austen laughed as heread it. "The Honourable Galusha Hammer is well named, " young Tom wrote, "but the conviction has been gaining ground with me that a hammer isabout as much use as a shovel would be at the present time. It is not theproper instrument. " "But the 'old man'" (it was thus young Tom was wontto designate his parent) "is pig-headed when he gets to fighting, andwon't listen to reason. If he believes he can lick the Northeastern witha Hammer, he is durned badly mistaken, and I told him so. I have beengiving him sage advice in little drops--after meals. I tell him there isonly one man in the State who has sense enough even to shake theNortheastern, and that's you. He thinks this a pretty good joke. Ofcourse I realize where your old man is planted, and that you might havesome natural delicacy and wish to refrain from giving him a jar. But comedown for an hour and let me talk to you, anyway. The new statesman fromLeith is cutting a wide swath. Not a day passes but his voice is heardroaring in the Forum; he has visited all the State institutions, dinedand wined the governor and his staff and all the ex-governors he can layhis hands on, and he has that hard-headed and caustic journalist, Mr. Peter Pardriff, of the State Tribune, hypnotized. He has some swells upat his house to hear his speech on national affairs, among them oldFlint's daughter, who is a ripper to look at, although I never got nearerto her than across the street. As you may guess, it is something of acard for Crewe to have Flint's daughter here. "

Austen sat for a long time after reading this letter, idly watching thesnow-clouds gathering around Sawanec. Then he tore up the paper, on whichhe had been scribbling, into very small bits, consulted a time-table, andat noon, in a tumult of feelings, he found himself in a back seat of theexpress, bound for the capital. 

Arriving at the station, amidst a hurry and bustle of legislators andpoliticians coming and going, many of whom nodded to him, he stood for aminute in the whirling snow reflecting. Now that he was here, where washe to stay? The idea of spending the night at the Pelican was repellentto him, and he was hesitating between two more modest hostelries when hewas hailed by a giant with a flowing white beard, a weather-beaten face, and a clear eye that shone with a steady and kindly light. It was JamesRedbrook, the member from Mercer. 

"Why, how be you, Austen?" he cried, extending a welcome hand; and, whenAusten had told him his dilemma: "Come right along up to my lodgings. Ilive at the Widow Peasley's, and there's a vacant room next to mine. "

Austen accepted gratefully, and as they trudged through the storm up thehill, he inquired how legislative matters were progressing. Whereupon Mr. Redbrook unburdened himself. 

"Say, I just warmed up all over when I see you, Austen. I'm so glad torun across an honest man. We ain't forgot in Mercer what you did for ZebMeader, and how you went against your interests. And I guess it ain'tdone you any harm in the State. As many as thirty or forty members havespoke to me about it. And down here I've got so I just can't hold in anymore. "

"Is it as bad as that, Mr. Redbrook?" asked Austen, with a serious glanceat the farmer's face. 

"It's so bad I don't know how to begin, " said the member from Mercer, andpaused suddenly. "But I don't want to hurt your feelings, Austen, seeingyour father is--where he is. "

"Go on, " said Austen, "I understand. "

"Well, " said Mr. Redbrook, "it just makes me tremble as an Americancitizen. The railrud sends them slick cusses down here that sit in thefront seats who know all this here parliamentary law and the tricks ofthe trade, and every time any of us gets up to speak our honest minds, they have us ruled out of order or get the thing laid on the table untilsome Friday morning when there ain't nobody here, and send it along up tothe Senate. They made that fat feller, Doby, Speaker, and he's stuffedall the important committees so that you can't get an honest measureconsidered. You can talk to the committees all you've a mind to, andthey'll just listen and never do anything. There's five hundred in theHouse, and it ain't any more of a Legislature than a camp-meetin' is. What do you suppose they done last Friday morning, when there wahn't buttwenty men at the session? We had an anti-pass law, and all these fellerswere breakin' it. It forbid anybody riding on a pass except railroadpresidents, directors, express messengers, and persons in misfortune, andthey stuck in these words, 'and others to whom passes have been grantedby the proper officers. ' Ain't that a disgrace to the State? And thosetwenty senators passed it before we got back on Tuesday. You can't get abill through that Legislature unless you go up to the Pelican and getpermission of Hilary--"

Here Mr. Redbrook stopped abruptly, and glanced contritely at hiscompanion. 

"I didn't mean to get goin' so, " he said, "but sometimes I wish thisAmerican government'd never been started. "

"I often feel that way myself, Mr. Redbrook, " said Austen. 

"I knowed you did. I guess I can tell an honest man when I see one. It'streason to say anything against this Northeastern louder than a whisper. They want an electric railrud bad up in Greenacre, and when some of usspoke for it and tried to get the committee to report it, those cheapfellers from Newcastle started such a catcall we had to set down. "

By this time they were at the Widow Peasley's, stamping the snow from offtheir boots. 

"How general is this sentiment?" Austen asked, after he had set down hisbag in the room he was to occupy. 

"Why, " said Mr. Redbrook, with conviction, "there's enough feel as I doto turn that House upside down--if we only had a leader. If you was onlyin there, Austen. "

"I'm afraid I shouldn't be of much use, " Austen answered. "They'd havegiven me a back seat, too. "

The Widow Peasley's was a frame and gabled house of Revolutionary dayswith a little terrace in front of it and a retaining wall built up fromthe sidewalk. Austen, on the steps, stood gazing across at a squaremansion with a wide cornice, half hidden by elms and maples and pines. Itwas set far back from the street, and a driveway entered the picket-fenceand swept a wide semicircle to the front door and back again. Before thedoor was a sleigh of a pattern new to him, with a seat high above thebacks of two long-bodied, deep-chested horses, their heads held withdifficulty by a little footman with his arms above him. At that momenttwo figures in furs emerged from the house. The young woman gathered upthe reins and leaped lightly to the box, the man followed; the littlegroom touched his fur helmet and scrambled aboard as the horses sprangforward to the music of the softest of bells. The sleigh swept around thecurve, avoided by a clever turn a snow-pile at the entrance, the youngwoman raised her eyes from the horses, stared at Austen, and bowed. Asfor Austen, he grew warm as he took off his hat, and he realized that hishand was actually trembling. The sleigh flew on up the hill, but sheturned once more to look behind her, and he still had his hat in hishand, the snowflakes falling on his bared head. Then he was aware thatJames Redbrook was gazing at him curiously. 

"That's Flint's daughter, ain't it?" inquired the member from Mercer. "Didn't callate you'd know her. "

Austen flushed. He felt exceedingly foolish, but an answer came to him. 

"I met her in the hospital. She used to go there to see Zeb Meader. "

"That's so, " said Mr. Redbrook; "Zeb told me about it, and she used tocome to Mercer to see him after he got out. She ain't much like the oldman, I callate. "

"I don't think she is, " said Austen. 

"I don't know what she's stayin' with that feller Crewe for, " the farmerremarked; of all the etarnal darn idiots--why, Brush Bascom and thatBotcher and the rest of 'em are trailin' him along and usin' him for thebest thing that ever came down here. He sets up to be a practical man, and don't know as much as some of us hayseeds in the back seats. Where beyou goin'?"

"I was going to the Pelican. "

"Well, I've got a committee meetin' of Agriculture, " said Mr. Redbrook. "Could you be up here at Mis' Peasley's about eight to-night?"

"Why, yes, " Austen replied, "if you want to see me. "

"I do want to see you, " said Mr. Redbrook, significantly, and waved afarewell. 

Austen took his way slowly across the state-house park, threading amongthe groups between the snow-banks towards the wide facade of the PelicanHotel. Presently he paused, and then with a sudden determination crossedthe park diagonally into Main Street, walking rapidly southward andscrutinizing the buildings on either side until at length these began togrow wide apart, and he spied a florist's sign with a greenhouse behindit. He halted again, irresolutely, in front of it, flung open the door, and entered a boxlike office filled with the heated scents of flowers. Alittle man eyed him with an obsequious interest which he must haveaccorded to other young men on similar errands. Austen may be spared arepetition of the very painful conversation that ensued; suffice it tosay that, after mature deliberation, violets were chosen. He had anotion--not analyzed--that she would prefer violets to roses. Theinformation that the flowers were for the daughter of the president ofthe Northeastern Railroads caused a visible quickening of the littleflorist's regard, an attitude which aroused a corresponding disgust anddepression in Austen. 

"Oh, yes, " said the florist, "she's up at Crewe's. " He glanced at Austenapologetically. "Excuse me, " he said, "I ought to know you. Have you acard?"

"No, " said Austen, with emphasis. 

"And what name, please?"

"No name, " said the donor, now heartily repenting of his rashness, andslamming the glass door in a manner that made the panes rattle behindhim. 

As he stood hesitating on the curb of the crossing, he began to wish thathe had not left Ripton. 

"Hello, Austen, " said a voice, which he recognized as the HonourableBrush Bascom's, "didn't know you ever came down here in session time. "

"What are you doing down here, Brush?" Austen asked. 

Mr. Bascom grinned in appreciation of this pleasantry. 

"I came for my health, " he said; "I prefer it to Florida. "

"I've heard that it agrees with some people, " said Austen. 

Mr. Bascom grinned again. 

"Just arrived?" he inquired. 

"Just, " said Austen. 

"I thought you'd get here sooner or later, " said Mr. Bascom. "Some folkstry stayin' away, but it ain't much use. You'll find the honourableHilary doing business at the same old stand, next to the governor, inNumber Seven up there. " And Mr. Bascom pointed to the well-known windowon the second floor. 

"Thanks, Brush, " said Austen, indifferently. "To tell the truth, I camedown to hear that promising protege of yours speak on national affairs. Iunderstand you're pushing his bills along. "

Mr. Bascom, with great deliberation, shut one of his little eyes. 

"So long, " he said, "come and see me when you get time. "

Austen went slowly down the street and entered the smoke-clouded lobby ofthe Pelican. He was a man to draw attention, and he was stared at by manypoliticians there and spoken to by some before he reached the stairs. Mounting, he found the door with the numeral, and knocked. The medley ofvoices within ceased; there were sounds of rattling papers, and ofclosing of folding doors. The key turned in the lock, and State SenatorNathaniel Billings appeared in the doorway, with a look of polite inquiryon his convivial face. This expression, when he saw Austen, changed tosomething like consternation. 

"Why, hello, hello, " said the senator. "Come in, come in. The HonourableHilary's here. Where'd you come down?"

"Hello, Nat, " said Austen, and went in. 

The Honourable Hilary sat in his usual arm-chair; Mr. Botcher severelystrained the tensile strength of the bedsprings; Mr. Hamilton Tootingstood before the still waving portieres in front of the folding doors;and Mr. Manning, the division superintendent, sat pensively, with his penin his mouth, before the marble-topped table from which everything hadbeen removed but a Bible. Two gentlemen, whom Austen recognized ascolleagues of Mr. Billings in the State Senate, stood together in awindow, pointing out things of interest in the street. Austen walked upto his father and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

"How are you, Judge?" he said. "I only came into pay my respects. I hopeI have not disturbed any--entertainment going on here, " he added, glancing in turn at the thoughtful occupants of the room, and then at thecurtains which hid the folding doors to the apartment of his Excellency. 

"Why, no, " answered the Honourable Hilary, his customary grunt being theonly indication of surprise on his part; "didn't know you were comingdown. "

"I didn't know it myself until this morning, " said Austen. 

"Legislative case, I suppose, " remarked the Honourable Jacob Botcher, inhis deep voice. 

"No, merely a pleasure trip, Mr. Botcher. "

The Honourable Jacob rubbed his throat, the two State senators in thewindow giggled, and Mr. Hamilton Tooting laughed. 

"I thought you took to the mountains in such cases, sir, " said Mr. Botcher. 

"I came for intellectual pleasure this time, " said Austen. "I understandthat Mr. Crewe is to deliver an epoch-making speech on the nationalsituation to-morrow. "

This was too much even for the gravity of Mr. Manning; Mr. Tooting andMr. Billings and his two colleagues roared, though the Honourable Jacob'slaugh was not so spontaneous. 

"Aust, " said Mr. Tooting, admiringly, you're all right. "

"Well, Judge, " said Austen, patting his father's shoulder again, "I'mglad to see you so comfortably fixed. Good-by, and give my regards to thegovernor. I'm sorry to have missed him, " he added, glancing at theportieres that hid the folding doors. 

"Are you stopping here?" asked the Honourable Hilary. 

"No, I met Mr. Redbrook of Mercer, and he took me up to his lodgings. IfI can do anything for you, a message will reach me there. "

"Humph, " said the Honourable Hilary, while the others exchangedsignificant glances. 

Austen had not gone half the length of the hall when he was overtaken byMr. Tooting. 

"Say, Aust, what's up between you and Redbrook?" he asked. 

"Nothing. Why?" Austen asked, stopping abruptly. 

"Well, I suppose you know there's an anti-railroad feeling growing inthat House, and that Redbrook has more influence with the farmers thanany other man. "

"I didn't know anything about Mr. Redbrook's influence, " said Austen. 

Mr. Tooting looked unconvinced. 

"Say, Aust, if anything's in the wind, I wish you'd let me know. I'llkeep it quiet. "

"I think I shall be safe in promising that, Ham, " said Austen. "Whenthere's anything in the wind, you generally find it out first. "

"There's trouble coming for the railroad, " said Mr. Tooting. "I can seethat. And I guess you saw it before I did. "

"They say a ship's about to sink when the rats begin to leave it, " saidAusten. 

Although Austen spoke smilingly, Mr. Tooting looked pained. 

"There's no chance for young men in that system, " he said. 

"Young men write the noble parts of the governor's inaugurals, " saidAusten. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Tooting, bitterly, "but you never get to be governor andread 'em. You've got to be a 'come on' with thirty thousand dollars to bea Northeastern governor and live next door to the Honourable Hilary inthe Pelican. Well, so long, Aust. If anything's up, give me the tip, that's all I ask. "

Reflecting on the singular character of Mr. Tooting, Austen sought theGaylords' headquarters, and found them at the furthermost end of thebuilding from the Railroad Room. The door was opened by young Tomhimself, whose face became wreathed in smiles when he saw who the visitorwas. 

"It's Austen!" he cried. "I thought you'd come down when you got thatappeal of mine. "

Austen did not admit the self-sacrifice as he shook Tom's hand; butremembered, singularly enough, the closing sentences of Tom's letter--which had nothing whatever to do with the Gaylord bill. 

At this moment a commotion arose within the room, and a high, tremulous, but singularly fierce and compelling voice was heard crying out:--"Getout! Get out, d-n you, all of you, and don't come back until you've gotsome notion of what you're a-goin' to do. Get out, I say!"

These last words were pronounced with such extraordinary vigour that fourgentlemen seemed to be physically impelled from the room. Three of themAusten recognized as dismissed and disgruntled soldiers from the lobbyarmy of the Northeastern; the fourth was the Honourable Galusha Hammer, whose mode of progress might be described as "stalking, " and whose lipswere forming the word "intolerable. " In the corner old Tom himself couldbe seen, a wizened figure of wrath. 

"Who's that?" he demanded of his son, "another d-d fool?"

"No, " replied young Tom, "it's Austen Vane. "

"What's he doin' here?" old Tom demanded, with a profane qualification asto the region. But young Tom seemed to be the only being capable ofserenity amongst the flames that played around him. 

"I sent for him because he's got more sense than Galusha and all the restof 'em put together, " he said. 

"I guess that's so, " old Tom agreed unexpectedly, "but it ain't sayin'much. Bring him in--bring him in, and lock the door. "

In obedience to these summons, and a pull from young Tom, Austen enteredand sat down. 

"You've read the Pingsquit bill?" old Tom demanded. 

"Yes, " said Austen. 

"Just because you won a suit against the Northeastern, and nearly killeda man out West, Tom seems to think you can do anything. He wouldn't, giveme any peace until I let him send for you, " Mr. Gaylord remarked testily. "Now you're down here, what have you got to propose?"

"I didn't come here to propose anything, Mr. Gaylord, " said Austen. 

"What!" cried Mr. Gaylord, with one of his customary and forcefulexclamations. "What'd you come down for?"

"I've been asking myself that question ever since I came, Mr. Gaylord, "said Austen, "and I haven't yet arrived at any conclusion. "

Young Tom looked at his friend and laughed, and Mr. Gaylord, who at firstgave every indication of being about to explode with anger, suddenlyemitted a dry cackle. 

"You ain't a d-n fool, anyway, " he declared. 

"I'm beginning to think I am, " said Austen. 

"Then you've got sense enough to know it, " retorted old Tom. "Most of 'emhaven't. " And his glance, as it fell upon the younger man, was almostapproving. Young Tom's was distinctly so. 

"I told you Austen was the only lawyer who'd talk common sense to you, "he said. 

"I haven't heard much of it yet, " said old Tom. 

"Perhaps I ought to tell you, Mr. Gaylord, " said Austen, smiling alittle, "that I didn't come down in any legal capacity. That's only oneof Tom's jokes. "

"Then what in h--l did you bring him in here for?" demanded old Tom ofhis son. 

"Just for a quiet little powwow, " said young Tom, "to make you laugh. He's made you laugh before. "

"I don't want to laugh, " said old Tom, pettishly. Nevertheless, he seemedto be visibly cooling. "If you ain't in here to make money, " he added toAusten, "I don't care how long you stay. "

"Say, Austen, " said young Tom, "do you remember the time we covered theold man with shavings at the mills in Avalon, and how he chased us with atwo-by-four scantling?"

"I'd made pulp out'n you if I'd got you, " remarked Mr. Gaylord, with areminiscent chuckle that was almost pleasant. "But you were always agoldurned smart boy, Austen, and you've done well with them littlesuits. " He gazed at Austen a moment with his small, filmy-blue eye. "Idon't know but what you might take hold here and make it hot for thosed-d rascals in the Northeastern, after all. You couldn't botch it worsenHammer has, and you might do some good. I said I'd make 'em dance, and byG-d, I'll do it, if I have to pay that Teller Levering in New York, andit takes the rest of my life. Look the situation over, and come backto-morrow and tell me what you think of it. "

"I can tell you what I think of it now, Mr. Gaylord, " said Austen. 

"What's that?" old Tom demanded sharply. 

"That you'll never get the bill passed, this session or next, bylobbying. "

For the moment the elder Mr. Gaylord was speechless, but young TomGaylord clapped his hand heartily on his friend's shoulder. 

"That's the reason I wanted to get you down here, Austen, " he cried;that's what I've been telling the old man all along--perhaps he'llbelieve you. "

"Then you won't take hold?" said Mr. Gaylord, his voice trembling on theedge of another spasm. "You refuse business?"

"I refuse that kind of business, Mr. Gaylord, " Austen answered quietly, though there was a certain note in his voice that young Tom knew well, and which actually averted the imminent explosion from Mr. Gaylord, whoseeyes glared and watered. "But aside from that, you must know that theRepublican party leaders in this State are the heads of the lobby of theNortheastern Railroads. "

"I guess I know about Number Seven as well as you do, " old Tominterjected. 

Austen's eye flashed. 

"Now hold on, father, " said young Tom, "that's no way to talk to Austen. "

"Knowing Number Seven, " Austen continued, "you probably realize that thepolitical and business future of nearly every one of the twenty Statesenators depends upon the favour of the Northeastern Railroads. "

"I know that the d-d fools won't look at money, " said Mr. Gaylord;"Hammer's tried 'em. "

"I told you that before you started in, " young Tom remarked, "but whenyou get mad, you won't listen to sense. And then there's the HonourableAsa Gray, who wants to represent the Northeastern some day in the UnitedStates Senate. "

"The bill ought to pass, " shrieked old Tom; "it's a d-d outrage. There'sno reason why I shouldn't be allowed to build a railroad if I've got themoney to do it. What in blazes are we comin' to in this country if wecan't git competition? If Flint stops that bill, I'll buy a newspaper andgo to the people with the issue and throw his d-d monopoly intobankruptcy. "

"It's all very well to talk about competition and monopolies andlobbies, " said young Tom, "but how about the Gaylord Lumber Company? Howabout the time you used the lobby, with Flint's permission? This kind ofvirtuous talk is beautiful to listen to when you and Flint get into arow. "

At this remark of his son's, the intermittent geyser of old Tom's wrathspouted up again with scalding steam, and in a manner utterly impossibleto reproduce upon paper. Young Tom waited patiently for the exhibition tocease, which it did at length in a coughing fit of sheer exhaustion thatleft his father speechless, if not expressionless, pointing a lean andtrembling finger in the direction of a valise on the floor. 

"You'll go off in a spell of that kind some day, " said young Tom, openingthe valise and extracting a bottle. Uncorking it, he pressed it to hisfather's lips, and with his own pocket-handkerchief (old Tom notpossessing such an article) wiped the perspiration from Mr. Gaylord'sbrow and the drops from his shabby black coat. "There's no use gettin'mad at Austen. He's dead right--you can't lobby this thing through, andyou knew it before you started. If you hadn't lost your temper, youwouldn't have tried. "

"We'll see, by G-d, we'll see, " said the indomitable old Tom, when he gothis breath. "You young men think you know a sight, but you haven't gotthe stuff in you we old Tellers have. Where would I be if it wasn't forfightin'? You mark my words, before this session's ended I'll scare h-lout of Flint--see if I don't. "

Young Tom winked at his friend. 

"Let's go down to supper, " he said. 

The dining room of the Pelican Hotel during a midweek of a busy sessionwas a scene of bustle and confusion not likely to be forgotten. Everyseat was taken, and gentlemen waited their turn in the marble-flaggedrotunda who had not the honour of being known to Mr. Giles, the headwaiter. If Mr. Hamilton Tooting were present, and recognized you, hewould take great pleasure in pointing out the celebrities, and especiallythat table over which the Honourable Hilary Vane presided, with thepretty, red-checked waitress hovering around it. At the HonourableHilary's right hand was the division superintendent, and at his left, Mr. Speaker Doby--a most convenient and congenial arrangement; farther downthe board were State Senator Nat Billings, Mr. Ridout (when he did notsup at home), the Honourables Brush Bascom and Elisha Jane, and theHonourable Jacob Botcher made a proper ballast for the foot. This tablewas known as the Railroad Table, and it was very difficult, at anydistance away from it, to hear what was said, except when the HonourableJacob Botcher made a joke. Next in importance and situation was theGovernor's Table--now occupied by the Honourable Asa Gray. Mr. Tooting'sdescription would not have stopped here. 

Sensations are common in the Pelican Hotel, but when Austen Vane walkedin that evening between the Gaylords, father and son, many a hungry guestlaid down his knife and fork and stared. Was the younger Vane (known tobe anti-railroad) to take up the Gaylords' war against his own father?All the indications were that way, and a rumour flew from table totable-leaping space, as rumours will--that the Gaylords had sent toRipton for Austen. There was but one table in the room the occupants ofwhich appeared not to take any interest in the event, or even to graspthat an event had occurred. The Railroad Table was oblivious. 

After supper Mr. Tooting found Austen in the rotunda, and drew himmysteriously aside. 

"Say, Aust, the Honourable Hilary wants to see you to-night, " hewhispered. 

"Did he send you with the message?" Austen demanded. 

"That's right, " said Mr. Tooting. "I guess you know what's up. "

Austen did not answer. At the foot of the stairway was the tall form ofHilary Vane himself, and Austen crossed the rotunda. 

"Do you want to see me, Judge?" he asked. 

The Honourable Hilary faced about quickly. 

"Yes, if you've got any spare time. "

"I'll go to your room at half-past nine to-night, if that's convenient. "

"All right, " said the Honourable Hilary, starting up the stairs. 

Austen turned, and found Mr. Hamilton Tooting at his elbow. 

CHAPTER XII

Mr. REDBROOK'S PARTY

The storm was over, and the bare trees, when the moon shone between thehurrying clouds, cast lacelike shadows on the white velvet surface of thesnow as Austen forged his way up the hill to the Widow Peasley's inkeeping with his promise to Mr. Redbrook. Across the street he pausedoutside the picket-fence to gaze at the yellow bars of light between theslats of the windows of the Duncan house. It was hard to realize that shewas there, within a stone's throw of where he was to sleep; but thestrange, half-startled expression in her eyes that afternoon and thesmile--which had in it a curious quality he could not analyze--were sovivid in his consciousness as to give him pain. The incident, as he stoodthere ankle-deep in the snow, seemed to him another inexplicable anduselessly cruel caprice of fate. 

As he pictured her in the dining room behind Mr. Crewe's silver and cutglass and flowers, it was undoubtedly natural that he should wonderwhether she were thinking of him in the Widow Peasley's lamp-lit cottage, and he smiled at the contrast. After all, it was the contrast between hislife and hers. As an American of good antecedents and education, with aWestern experience thrown in, social gulfs, although awkward, might becrossed in spite of opposition from ladies like the Rose of Sharon, --whohad crossed them. Nevertheless, the life which Victoria led seeminglyaccentuated--to a man standing behind a picket-fence in the snow--thevoids between. 

A stamping of feet in the Widow Peasley's vestibule awoke in him thatsense of the ridiculous which was never far from the surface, and he madehis way thither in mingled amusement and pain. What happened there is ofinterest, but may be briefly chronicled. Austen was surprised, onentering, to find Mrs. Peasley's parlour filled with men; and a singleglance at their faces in the lamplight assured him that they were of atype which he understood--countrymen of that rugged New England stock towhich he himself belonged, whose sons for generations had made lawyersand statesmen and soldiers for the State and nation. Some were talking inlow voices, and others sat silent on the chairs and sofa, not awkwardlyor uncomfortably, but with a characteristic self-possession and repose. Mr. Redbrook, towering in front of the stove, came forward. 

"Here you be, " he said, taking Austen's hand warmly and a littleceremoniously; "I asked 'em here to meet ye. "

"To meet me!" Austen repeated. 

"Wanted they should know you, " said Mr. Redbrook. 

"They've all heard of you and what you did for Zeb. "

Austen flushed. He was aware that he was undergoing a cool and criticalexamination by those present, and that they were men who used all theirfaculties in making up their minds. 

"I'm very glad to meet any friends of yours, Mr. Redbrook, " he said. "What I did for Meader isn't worth mentioning. It was an absolutelysimple case. "

"Twahn't so much what ye did as how ye did it, " said Mr. Redbrook. "It'skind of rare in these days, " he added, with the manner of commenting tohimself on the circumstance, "to find a young lawyer with brains thatwon't sell 'em to the railrud. That's what appeals to me, and to someother folks I know--especially when we take into account the situationyou was in and the chances you had. "

Austen's silence under this compliment seemed to create an indefinablethough favourable impression, and the member from Mercer permittedhimself to smile. 

"These men are all friends of mine, and members of the House, " he said, "and there's more would have come if they'd had a longer notice. Allow meto make you acquainted with Mr. Widgeon of Hull. "

"We kind of wanted to look you over, " said Mr. Widgeon, suiting theaction to the word. "That's natural ain't it?"

"Kind of size you up, " added Mr. Jarley of Wye, raising his eyes. "Callate you're sizable enough. "

"Wish you was in the House, " remarked Mr. Adams of Barren. "None of us ismuch on talk, but if we had you, I guess we could lay things wide open. "

"If you was thar, and give it to 'em as hot as you did when you wastalkin' for Zeb, them skunks in the front seats wouldn't know whetherthey was afoot or hossback, " declared Mr. Williams of Devon, a townadjoining Mercer. 

"I used to think railrud gov'ment wahn't so bad until I come to the Housethis time, " remarked a stocky member from Oxford; "it's sheer waste ofmoney for the State to pay a Legislature. They might as well run thingsfrom the New York office--you know that. "

"We might as well wear so many Northeastern uniforms with brass buttons, "a sinewy hill farmer from Lee put in. He had a lean face that did notmove a muscle, but a humorous gray eye that twinkled. 

In the meantime Mr. Redbrook looked on with an expression of approvalwhich was (to Austen) distinctly pleasant, but more or less mystifying. 

"I guess you ain't disappointed 'em much, " he declared, when the roundwas ended; "most of 'em knew me well enough to understand that cattle andlive stock in general, includin' humans, is about as I represent 'em tobe. "

"We have some confidence in your judgment, Brother Redbrook, " answeredMr. Terry of Lee, "and now we've looked over the goods, it ain't set backany, I callate. "

This observation, which seemed to meet with a general assent, was toAusten more mystifying than ever. He laughed. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, "I feel as though some expression of thanks weredue you for this kind and most unexpected reception. " Here a suddenseriousness came into his eyes which served, somehow, only to enhance hischarm of manner, and a certain determined ring into his voice. "You haveall referred to a condition of affairs, " he added, "about which I havethought a great deal, and which I deplore as deeply as you do. There isno doubt that the Northeastern Railroads have seized the government ofthis State for three main reasons: to throttle competition; to controlour railroad commission in order that we may not get the service andsafety to which we are entitled, --so increasing dividends; and to makeand maintain laws which enable them to bribe with passes, to pay lesstaxes than they should, and to manipulate political machinery. "

"That's right, " said Mr. Jarley of Wye, with a decided emphasis. 

"That's the kind of talk I like to hear, " exclaimed Mr. Terry. 

"And nobody's had the gumption to fight 'em, " said Mr. Widgeon. 

"It looks, " said Austen, "as though it must come to a fight in the end. Ido not think they will listen to reason. I mean, " he added, with a flashof humour, "that they will listen to it, but not act upon it. Gentlemen, I regret to have to say, for obvious reasons, something which you allknow, that my father is at the head of the Northeastern machine, which isthe Republican party organization. "

There was a silence. 

"You went again' him, and we honour you for it, Austen, " said Mr. Redbrook, at length. 

"I want to say, " Austen continued, "that I have tried to look at thingsas Mr. Vane sees them, and that I have a good deal of sympathy for hispoint of view. Conditions as they exist are the result of an evolutionfor which no one man is responsible. That does not alter the fact thatthe conditions are wrong. But the railroads, before they consolidated, found the political boss in power, and had to pay him for favours. Thecitizen was the culprit to start with, just as he is the culprit now, because he does not take sufficient interest in his government to make ithonest. We mustn't blame the railroads too severely, when they grewstrong enough, for substituting their own political army to avoid beingblackmailed. Long immunity has reenforced them in the belief that theyhave but one duty to pay dividends. I am afraid, " he added, "that theywill have to be enlightened somewhat as Pharaoh was enlightened. "

"Well, that's sense, too, " said Mr. Widgeon; "I guess you're the man toenlighten 'em. "

"Moderate talk appeals to me, " declared Mr. Jarley. 

"And when that fails, " said Mr. Terry, 'hard, tellin' blows. "

"Don't lose track of the fact that we've got our eye on you, " said Mr. Emerson of Oxford, who had a blacksmith's grip, and came back to renew itafter he had put on his overshoes. He was the last to linger, and whenthe door had closed on him Austen turned to Mr. Redbrook. 

"Now what does all this mean?" he demanded. 

"It means, " said Mr. Redbrook, "that when the time comes, we want you torun for governor. "

Austen went to the mantelpiece, and stood for a long time with his backturned, staring at a crayon portrait of Colonel Peasley, in the uniformin which he had fallen at the battle of Gettysburg. Then he swung aboutand seized the member from Mercer by both broad shoulders. 

"James Redbrook, " he said, "until to-night I thought you were about aslong-headed and sensible a man as there was in the State. "

"So I be, " replied Mr. Redbrook, with a grin. "You ask young TomGaylord. "

"So Tom put you up to this nonsense. "

"It ain't nonsense, " retorted Mr. Redbrook, stoutly, "and Tom didn't putme up to it. It's the' best notion that ever came into my mind. "

Austen, still clinging to Mr. Redbrook's shoulders, shook his headslowly. 

"James, " he said, "there are plenty of men who are better equipped than Ifor the place, and in a better situation to undertake it. I--I'm muchobliged to you. But I'll help. I've got to go, " he added; "the HonourableHilary wants to see me. "

He went into the entry and put on his overshoes and his coat, while JamesRedbrook regarded him with a curious mingling of pain and benevolence onhis rugged face. 

"I won't press you now, Austen, " he said, "but think on it. For God'ssake, think on it. "

Outside, Austen paused in the snow once more, his brain awhirl with astrange exaltation the like of which he had never felt before. Althougheminently human, it was not the fact that honest men had asked him to betheir governor which uplifted him, --but that they believed him to be ashonest as themselves. In that hour he had tasted life as he had never yettasted it, he had lived as he might never live again. Not one of them, heremembered suddenly, had uttered a sentence of the political claptrap ofwhich he had heard so much. They had spoken from the soul; not bitterly, not passionately, but their words had rung with the determination whichhad made their forefathers and his leave home, toil, and kindred to fightand die at Bunker Hill and Gettysburg for a principle. It had bean givenhim to look that eight into the heart of a nation, and he was awed. 

As he stood there under the winter moon, he gradually became conscious ofmusic, of an air that seemed the very expression of his mood. His eyes, irresistibly drawn towards the Duncan house, were caught by thefluttering of lace curtains at an open window. The notes were those of apiano, --though the instrument mattered little, --that with which they werecharged for him set the night wind quivering. It was not simple music, although it had in it a grand simplicity. At times it rose, vibrant withinexpressible feeling, and fell again into gentler, yearning cadencesthat wrung the soul with a longing that was world-old and world-wide, that reached out towards the unattainable stare--and, reaching, becameimmortal. Thus was the end of it, fainting as it drifted heavenward. 

Then the window was closed. 

Austen walked on; whither, he knew not. After a certain time of which hehad no cognizance he found himself under the glaring arc-light that hungover Main Street before the Pelican Hotel, in front of what was known asthe ladies' entrance. He slipped in there, avoiding the crowded lobbywith its shifting groups and its haze of smoke, --plainly to be seenbehind the great plates of glass, --went upstairs, and gained room Number. Seven unnoticed. Then, after the briefest moment of hesitation, heknocked. A voice responded--the Honourable Hilary's. There was but onelight burning in the room, and Mr. Vane sat in his accustomed chair inthe corner, alone. He was not reading, nor was he drowsing, but his headwas dropped forward a little on his breast. He raised it slowly at hisson's entrance, and regarded Austen fixedly, though silently. 

"You wanted to see me, Judge?" said Austen. 

"Come at last, have you?" said Mr. Vane. 

"I didn't intend to be late, " said Austen. 

"Seem to have a good deal of business on hand these days, " the HonourableHilary remarked. 

Austen took a step forward, and stopped. Mr. Vane was preparing a pieceof Honey Dew. 

"If you would like to know what the business was, Judge, I am here totell you. "

The Honourable Hilary grunted. 

"I ain't good enough to be confided in, I guess, " he said; "I wouldn'tunderstand motives from principle. "

Austen looked at his father for a few moments in silence. To-night heseemed at a greater distance than ever before, and more lonely than ever. When Austen had entered the room and had seen him sitting with his headbowed forward, the hostility of months of misunderstanding had fallenaway from the son, and he had longed to fly to him as he had as a childafter punishment. Differences in after life, alas, are not always to bebridged thus. 

"Judge, " he said slowly, with an attempt to control his voice, wouldn'tit have been fairer to wait awhile, before you made a remark like that?Whatever our dealings may have been, I have never lied to you. Anythingyou may want to know, I am here to tell you. "

"So you're going to take up lobbying, are you? I had a notion you wereabove lobbying. "

Austen was angered. But like all men of character, his face became sternunder provocation, and he spoke more deliberately. 

"Before we go any farther, " he said, "would you mind telling me who yourinformant is on this point?"

"I guess I don't need an informant. My eyesight is as good as ever, " saidthe Honourable Hilary. 

"Your deductions are usually more accurate. If any one has told you thatI am about to engage in lobbying, they have lied to you. "

"Wouldn't engage in lobbying, would you?" the Honourable Hilary asked, with the air of making a casual inquiry. 

Austen flushed, but kept his temper. 

"I prefer the practice of law, " he replied. 

"Saw you were associatin' with saints, " his father remarked. 

Austen bit his lip, and then laughed outright, --the canonization of oldTom Gaylord being too much for him. 

"Now, Judge, " he said, "it isn't like you to draw hasty conclusions. Because I sat down to supper with the Gaylords it isn't fair to inferthat they have retained me in a legislative case. "

The Honourable Hilary did not respond to his son's humour, but shiftedthe Honey Dew to the left cheek. 

"Old Tom going in for reform?"

"He may bring it about, " answered Austen, instantly becoming seriousagain, "whether he's going in for it or not. "

For the first time the Honourable Hilary raised his eyes to his son'sface, and shot at him a penetrating look of characteristic shrewdness. But he followed in conversation the same rule as in examining a witness, rarely asking a direct question, except as a tactical surprise. 

"Old Tom ought to have his railroad, oughtn't he?"

"So far as I can see, it would be a benefit to the people of that part ofthe State, " said Austen. 

"Building it for the people, is he?"

"His motive doesn't count. The bill should be judged on its merits, andproper measures for the safeguarding of public interests should be putinto it. "

"Don't think the bill will be judged on its merits, do you?"

"No, I don't, " replied Austen, "and neither do you. "

"Did you tell old Tom so?" asked Mr. Vane, after a pause. "Did you tellold Tom so when he sent for you to take hold?"

"He didn't send for me, " answered Austen, quietly, "and I have nobusiness dealings with him except small suits. What I did tell him wasthat he would never get the bill through this session or next bylobbying. "

The Honourable Hilary never showed surprise. He emitted a grunt whichevinced at once impatience and amusement. 

"Why not?" he asked. 

"Well, Judge, I'll tell you what I told him--although you both know. It'sbecause the Northeastern owns the Republican party machine, which is thelobby, and because most of the twenty State senators are dependent uponthe Northeastern for future favours. "

"Did you tell Tom Gaylord that?" demanded Mr. Vane. "What did he say?"

Austen braced himself. He did not find the answer easy. 

"He said he knew about Number Seven as well as I did. "

The Honourable Hilary rose abruptly--perhaps in some secret agitation--Austen could not discern. His father walked as far as the door, andturned slowly and faced him, but he did not speak. His mouth was tightlyclosed, almost as in pain, and Austen went towards him, appealingly. 

"Judge, " he said, "you sent for me. You have asked me questions which Ifelt obliged in honesty to answer. God knows I don't wish to differ withyou, but circumstances seem always against us. I will talk plainly, ifyou will let me. I try to look at things from your point of view. I knowthat you believe that a political system should go hand in hand with thegreat commercial system which you are engaged in building. I disagreewith your beliefs, but I do not think that your pursuit of them has notbeen sincere, and justified by your conscience. I suppose that you sentfor me to know whether Mr. Gaylord has employed me to lobby for his bill. He has not, because I refused that employment. But I will tell you that, in my opinion, if a man of any ability whatever should get up on thefloor of the House and make an argument for the Pingsquit bill, thesentiment against the Northeastern and its political power is so greatthat the House would compel the committee to report the bill, and passit. You probably know this already, but I mention it for your own good ifyou do not, in the hope that, through you, the Northeastern Railroads maybe induced to relax their grip upon the government of this State. "

The Honourable Hilary advanced, until only the marble-topped table wasbetween himself and his son. A slight noise in the adjoining room causedhim to turn his head momentarily. Then he faced Austen again. 

"Did you tell Gaylord this?" he asked. 

Austen made a gesture of distaste, and turned away. 

"No, " he said, "I reserved the opinion, whatever it is worth, for yourears alone. "

"I've heard that kind of calculation before, " said the Honourable Hilary. "My experience is that they never come to much. As for this nonsenseabout the Northeastern Railroads running things, " he added morevigorously, "I guess when it's once in a man's head there's no getting itout. The railroad employs the best lawyers it can find to look after itsinterests. I'm one of 'em, and I'm proud of it. If I hadn't been one of'em, the chances are you'd never be where you are, that you'd never havegone to college and the law school. The Republican party realizes thatthe Northeastern is most vitally connected with the material interests ofthis State; that the prosperity of the road means the prosperity of theState. And the leaders of the party protect the road from vindictiveassaults on it like Gaylord's, and from scatterbrains and agitators likeyour friend Redbrook. "

Austen shook his head sadly as he gazed at his father. He had alwaysrecognized the futility of arguments, if argument on this point everarose between them. 

"It's no use, Judge, " he said. "If material prosperity alone were to beconsidered, your contention would have some weight. The perpetuation ofthe principle of American government has to be thought of. Government bya railroad will lead in the end to anarchy. You are courting destructionas it is. "

"If you came in here to quote your confounded Emerson--" the HonourableHilary began, but Austen slipped around the table and took him by the armand led him perforce to his chair. 

"No, Judge, that isn't Emerson, " he answered. "It's just common sense, only it sounds to you like drivel. I'm going now, --unless you want tohear some more about the plots I've been getting into. But I want to saythis. I ask you to remember that you're my father, and that--I'm fond ofyou. And that, if you and I happen to be on opposite sides, it won't makeany difference as far as my feelings are concerned. I'm always ready totell you frankly what I'm doing, if you wish to know. Good-by. I supposeI'll see you in Ripton at the end of the week. " And he pressed hisfather's shoulder. 

Mr. Vane looked up at his son with a curious expression. Perhaps (as whenAusten returned from the shooting of Mr. Blodgett in the West) there wasa smattering of admiration and pride in that look, and something of anaffection which had long ceased in its strivings for utterance. It wasthe unconscious tribute, too, --slight as was its exhibition, --of the manwhose life has been spent in the conquest of material things to the manwho has the audacity, insensate though it seem, to fling these to thewinds in his search after ideals. 

"Good-by, Austen, " said Mr. Vane. 

Austen got as far as the door, cast another look back at his father, --whowas sitting motionless, with head bowed, as when he came, --and went out. So Mr. Vane remained for a full minute after the door had closed, andthen he raised his head sharply and gave a piercing glance at thecurtains that separated Number Seven from the governor's room. In threestrides he had reached them, flung them open, and the folding doorsbehind them, already parted by four inches. The gas was turned low, butunder the chandelier was the figure of a young man struggling with anovercoat. The Honourable Hilary did not hesitate, but came forward with aswiftness that paralyzed the young man, who turned upon him a face onwhich was meant to be written surprise and a just indignation, but inreality was a mixture of impudence and pallid fright. The HonourableHilary, towering above him, and with that grip on his arm, was aformidable person. 

"Listening, were you, Ham?" he demanded. 

"No, " cried Mr. Tooting, with a vehemence he meant for force. "No, Iwasn't. Listening to who?"

"Humph!" said the Honourable Hilary, still retaining with one hand thegrip on Mr. Tooting 's arm, and with the other turning up the gas untilit flared in Mr. Tooting's face. "What are you doing in the governor'sroom?"

"I left my overcoat in here this afternoon when you sent me to bring upthe senator. "

"Ham, " said Mr. Vane, "it isn't any use lying to me. "

"I ain't lying to you, " said Mr. Tooting, "I never did. I often lied foryou, " he added, "and you didn't raise any objections that I remember. "

Mr. Vane let go of the arm contemptuously. 

"I've done dirty work for the Northeastern for a good many years, " criedMr. Tooting, seemingly gaining confidence now that he was free; "I'veslaved for 'em, and what have they done for me? They wouldn't even backme for county solicitor when I wanted the job. "

"Turned reformer, Ham?"

"I guess I've got as much right to turn reformer as some folks I know. "

"I guess you have, " agreed the Honourable Hilary; unexpectedly. He seatedhimself on a chair, and proceeded to regard Mr. Tooting in a mannerextremely disconcerting to that gentleman. This quality ofimpenetrability, of never being sure when he was angry, had baffled moreable opponents of Hilary Vane than Mr. Hamilton Tooting. 

"Good-night, Ham. "

"I want to say--" Mr. Tooting began. 

"Good-night, Ham, " said Mr. Vane, once more. 

Mr. Tooting looked at him, slowly buttoned up his overcoat, and departed. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE REALM OF PEGASUS

The eventful day of Mr. Humphrey Crewe's speech on national affairsdawned without a cloud in the sky. The snow was of a dazzling whitenessand sprinkled with diamond dust; and the air of such transcendentclearness that Austen could see--by leaning a little out of the WidowPeasley's window--the powdered top of Holdfast Mountain some thirty milesaway. For once, a glance at the mountain sufficed him; and he directedhis gaze through the trees at the Duncan house, engaging in a pleasantgame of conjecture as to which was her window. In such weather theheights of Helicon seemed as attainable as the peak of Holdfast; and hehad but to beckon a shining Pegasus from out a sun-shaft in the sky. Obstacles were mere specks on the snow. 

He forgot to close the window, and dressed in a temperature which wouldhave meant, for many mortals, pneumonia. The events of yesterday; painfuland agitating as they had been, had fallen away in the prospect that laybefore him--he would see her to-day, and speak with her. These words, like a refrain; were humming in his head as honest Mr. Redbrook talkedduring breakfast, while Austen's answers may have been both intelligentand humorous. Mr. Redbrook, at least; gave no sign that they were not. Hewas aware that Mr. Redbrook was bringing arguments to bear on the matterof the meeting of the evening before, but he fended these lightly, whilein spirit he flung a gem-studded bridle aver the neck of Pegasus. 

And after breakfast--away from the haunts of men! Away from thebickerings, the subjection of mean spirits; material loss and gain andmaterial passion! By eight o'clock (the Widow Peasley's household beingan early and orderly one) he was swinging across the long hills, cleavingfor himself a furrowed path in the untrodden snow, breathing deep as hegazed across the blue spaces from the crests. Bellerophon or Perseus, aided by immortals, felt no greater sense of achievements to come thanhe. Out here, on the wind-swept hills that rolled onward and upward tothe mountains, the world was his. 

With the same speed he returned, still by untrodden paths until hereached the country road that ended in the city street. Some who saw himpaused in their steps, caught unconsciously by the rhythmic perfection ofhis motion. Ahead of him he beheld the state-house, its dial aflame inthe light, emblematic to him of the presence within it of a spirit whichcleansed it of impurities. She would be there; nay, when he looked at thedial from a different angle, was there. As he drew nearer, there rose outof the void her presence beside him which he had daily tried to summonsince that autumn afternoon--her voice and her eyes, and many of theinfinite expressions of each and both. Sprites that they were, they hadfailed him until to-day, when he was to see her again!

And then, somehow, he had threaded the groups beside the battle-flags inthe corridor, and mounted the stairway. The doorkeeper of the Houselooked into his face, and, with that rare knowledge of mankind whichdoorkeepers possess, let him in. There were many ladies on the floor(such being the chivalrous custom when a debate or a speech of theimportance of Mr. Crewe's was going on), but Austen swept them with aglance of disappointment. Was it possible, after all, that she had notcome, or--more agitating thought--had gone back to New York?

At this disturbing point in his reflections Austen became aware that thehall was ringing with a loud and compelling voice which originated infront of the Speaker's desk. 

The Honourable Humphrey Crewe was delivering his long-heralded speech onnational affairs, and was arrayed for the occasion in a manner befittingthe American statesman, with the conventional frock coat, which he woreunbuttoned. But the Gladstone collar and a tie gave the touch ofindividuality to his dress which was needed to set him aside as a markedman. Austen suddenly remembered, with an irresistible smile, that one ofthe reasons which he had assigned for his visit to the capital was tohear this very speech, to see how Mr. Crewe would carry off what appearedto be a somewhat difficult situation. Whether or not this motive haddrawn others, --for the millionaire's speech had not lackedadvertisement, --it is impossible to say, but there was standing room onlyon the floor of the House that day. 

The fact that Mr. Crewe was gratified could not be wholly concealed. Thething that fascinated Austen Vane and others who listened was the aplombwith which the speech was delivered. The member from Leith showed notrace of the nervousness naturally to be expected in a maiden effort, butspoke with the deliberation of an old campaigner, of the man of weightand influence that he was. He leaned, part of the time, with his elbow onthe clerk's desk, with his feet crossed; again, when he wished toemphasize a point, he came forward and seized with both hands the back ofhis chair. Sometimes he thrust his thumb in his waistcoat pocket, andturned with an appeal to Mr. Speaker Doby, who was apparently toothrilled and surprised to indulge in conversation with those on the benchbeside him, and who made no attempt to quell hand-clapping and evenoccasional whistling; again, after the manner of experts, Mr. Creweaddressed himself forcibly to an individual in the audience, usually asensitive and responsive person like the Honourable Jacob Botcher, who onsuch occasions assumed a look of infinite wisdom and nodded his headslowly. There was no doubt about it that the compelling personality ofMr. Humphrey Crewe was creating a sensation. Genius is sure of itself, and statesmen are born, not made. 

Able and powerful as was Mr. Crewe's discourse, the man and not the wordshad fastened the wandering attention of Austen Vane. He did not perceivehis friend of the evening before, Mr. Widgeon, coming towards him up theside aisle, until he felt a touch on the arm. 

"Take my seat. It ain't exactly a front one, " whispered the member fromHull, "my wife's cousin's comin' on the noon train. Not a bad speech, isit?" he added. "Acts like a veteran. I didn't callate he had it in him. "

Thus aroused, Austen made his way towards the vacant chair, and when hewas seated raised his eyes to the gallery rail, and Mr. Crewe, thelegislative chamber, and its audience ceased to exist. It is quiteimpossible--unless one is a poetical genius--to reproduce on paper thatgone and sickly sensation which is, paradoxically, so exquisite. Thepsychological cause of it in this instance was, primarily, the sight, byAusten Vane, of his own violets on a black, tailor-made gown trimmed withwide braid, and secondarily of an oval face framed in a black hat, thesubtle curves of which no living man could describe. The face was turnedin his direction, and he felt an additional thrill when he realized thatshe must have been watching him as he came in, for she was leaningforward with a gloved hand on the railing. 

He performed that act of conventionality known as a bow, and she noddedher head--black hat and all. The real salutation was a divine ray whichpassed between their eyes--hers and his--over the commonplace mortalsbetween. And after that, although the patient legislative clock in thecorner which had marked the space of other great events (such as theWoodchuck Session) continued to tick, undisturbed in this instance by thepole of the sergeant-at-arms, time became a lost dimension for AustenVane. He made a few unimportant discoveries such as the fact that Mrs. Pomfret and her daughter were seated beside Victoria, listening with arapt attention; and that Mr. Crewe had begun to read statistics; and thatsome people were gaping and others leaving. He could look up at thegallery without turning his head, and sometimes he caught her momentaryglance, and again, with her chin in her hand, she was watching Mr. Crewewith a little smile creasing the corners of her eyes. 

A horrible thought crossed Austen's mind--perhaps they were not hisviolets after all! Because she had smiled at him, yesterday and to-day, he had soared heavenwards on wings of his own making. Perhaps they wereMr. Crewe's violets. Had she not come to visit Mr. Crewe, to listen tohis piece de resistance, without knowing that he, Austen Vane, would bein the capital? The idea that her interest in Austen Vane was possiblyconnected with the study of mankind had a sobering effect on him; and thenotion that she had another sort of interest in Mr. Crewe seemedridiculous enough, but disturbing, and supported by feats. 

Austen had reached this phase in his reflections when he was aroused by ametallic sound which arose above the resonant tones of the orator of theday. A certain vessel, to the use of which, according to Mr. Dickens, thesatire male portion of the American nation was at one time addicted, --acuspidor, in plain language, --had been started, by some unknown agency inthe back seats, rolling down the centre aisle, and gathering impetus asit went, bumped the louder on each successive step until it hurled itselfwith a clash against the clerk's desk, at the feet of the orator himself. During its descent a titter arose which gradually swelled into a roar oflaughter, and Austen's attention was once more focused upon the memberfrom Leith. But if any man had so misjudged the quality of Humphrey Creweas to suppose for an instant that he could be put out of countenance bysuch a manoeuvre, that man was mightily mistaken. Mr. Crewe paused, withhis forefinger on the page, and fixed a glassy eye on the remoteneighbourhood in the back seats where the disturbance had started. 

"I am much obliged to the gentleman, " he said coldly, "but he has sent mean article which I never use, under any conditions. I would not deprivehim of its convenience. "

Whereupon, it is not too much to say, Mr. Crews was accorded an ovation, led by his stanch friend and admirer, the Honourable Jacob Botcher, although that worthy had been known to use the article in question. 

Mr. Speaker Doby glanced at the faithful clock, and arose majestically. 

"I regret to say, " he announced, "that the time of the gentleman fromLeith is up. "

Mr. Botcher rose slowly to his feet. 

"Mr. Speaker, " he began, in a voice that rumbled through the crevices ofthe gallery, "I move you, sir, that a vote of thanks be accorded to thegentleman from Leith for his exceedingly able and instructive speech onnational affairs. "

"Second the motion, " said the Honourable Brush Bascom, instantly. 

"And leave to print in the State Tribune!" cried a voice from somewhereamong the submerged four hundred and seventy. 

"Gentlemen of the House, " said Mr. Crewe, when the laughter had subsided, "I have given you a speech which is the result of much thought andpreparation on my part. I have not flaunted the star-spangled banner inyour faces, or indulged in oratorical fireworks. Mine have been the wordsof a plain business man, and I have not indulged in wild accusations orflights of imagination. Perhaps, if I had, " he added, "there are some whowould have been better pleased. I thank my friends for their kindattention and approbation. "

Nevertheless, amidst somewhat of a pandemonium, the vote of thanks wasgiven and the House adjourned; while Mr. Crewe's friends of whom he hadspoken could be seen pressing around him and shaking him by the hand. Austen got to his feet, his eyes again sought the gallery, whence hebelieved he received a look of understanding from a face upon whichamusement seemed plainly written. She had turned to glance down at him, despite the fact that Mrs. Pomfret was urging her to leave. Austenstarted for the door, and managed to reach it long before his neighbourshad left the vicinity of their seats. Once in the corridor, his eyesingled her out amongst those descending the gallery stairs, and he had alittle thrill of pride and despair when he realized that she was theobject of the scrutiny, too, of the men around him; the women wereinterested, likewise, in Mrs. Pomfret, whose appearance, althoughappropriate enough for a New York matinee, proclaimed her as hailing fromthat mysterious and fabulous city of wealth. This lady, with herlorgnette, was examining the faces about her in undisguised curiosity, and at the same time talking to Victoria in a voice which she took nopains to lower. 

"I think it outrageous, " she was saying. "If some Radical member had donethat in Parliament, he would have been expelled from the House. But ofcourse in Parliament they wouldn't have those horrid things to roll downthe aisles. Poor dear Humphrey! The career of a gentleman in politics isa thankless one in this country. I wonder at his fortitude. "

Victoria's eyes alone betokened her amusement. 

"How do you do, Mr. Vane?" she said. "I'm so glad to see you again. "

Austen said something which he felt was entirely commonplace andinadequate to express his own sentiments, while Alice gave him anuncertain bow, and Mrs. Pomfret turned her glasses upon him. 

"You remember Mr. Vane, " said Victoria; "you met him at Humphrey's. "

"Did I?" answered Mrs. Pomfret. "How do you do? Can't something be doneto punish those rowdies?"

Austen grew red. 

"Mr. Vane isn't a member of the House, " said Victoria. 

"Oh, " exclaimed Mrs. Pomfret. "Something ought to be done about it. InEngland such a thing wouldn't be allowed to drop for a minute. If I livedin this State, I think I should do something. Nobody in America seems tohave the spirit even to make a protest. "

Austen turned quietly to Victoria. 

"When are you going away?" he asked. 

"To-morrow morning--earlier than I like to think of. I have to be in NewYork by to-morrow night. "

She flashed at him a look of approbation for his self-control, and then, by a swift transition which he had often remarked, her expression changedto one of amusement, although a seriousness lurked in the depths of hereyes. Mrs. Pomfret had gone on, with Alice, and they followed. 

"And--am I not to see you again before you go?" he exclaimed. 

He didn't stop to reason than upon the probable consequences of his actin seeking her. Nature, which is stronger than reason, was compellinghim. 

"That depends, " said Victoria. 

"Upon whom?"

"Upon you. "

They were on the lower stairs by this times, and there was silencebetween then for a few moments as they descended, --principally because, after this exalting remark, Austen could not trust himself to speak. 

"Will you go driving with me?" he asked, and was immediatelythunderstruck at his boldness. 

"Yes, " she answered, simply. 

"How soon may I come?" he demanded, She laughed softly, but with a joyous note which was not hidden from himas they stepped out of the darkened corridor into the dazzling winternoonday. 

"I will be ready at three o'clock, " she said. 

He looked at his watch. 

"Two hours and a half!" he cried. 

"If that is too early, " she said mischievously, "we can go later. "

"Too early!" he repeated. But the rest of his protest was cut short byMr. Crewe. 

"Hello, Victoria, what did you think of my speech?"

"The destinies of the nation are settled, " said Victoria. "Do you knowMr. Vane?"

"Oh, yes, how are you?" said Mr, Crewe; "glad to see you, " and heextended a furred glove. "Were you there?"

"Yes, " said Austen. 

"I'll send you a copy. I'd like to talk it over with you. Come on, Victoria, I've arranged for an early lunch. Come on, Mrs. Pomfret--getin, Alice. "

Mrs. Pomfret, still protesting against the profane interruption to Mr. Crewe's speech, bent her head to enter Mr. Crewe's booby sleigh, whichhad his crest on the panel. Alice was hustled in next, but Victoriaavoided his ready assistance and got in herself, Mr. Crewe getting inbeside her. 

"Au revoir, " she called out to Austen, as the door slammed. The coachmangathered his horses together, and off they went at a brisk trot. Then thelittle group which had been watching the performance dispersed. Halfwayacross the park Austen perceived some one signaling violently to him, anddiscovered his friend, young Tom Gaylord. 

"Come to dinner with me, " said young Tom, "and tell me whether the speechof your friend from Leith will send him to Congress. I saw you hobnobbingwith him just now. What's the matter, Austen? I haven't seen that guiltyexpression on your face since we were at college together. "

"What's the best livery-stable in town?" Austen asked. 

"By George, I wondered why you came down here. Who are you going to takeout in a sleigh? There's a girl in it, is there?"

"Not yet, Tom, " said Austen. 

"I've often asked myself why I ever had any use for such a secretive cussas you, " declared young Mr. Gaylord. "But if you're really goin' to getinterested in girls, you ought to see old Flint's daughter. I wrote youabout her. Why, " exclaimed Tom, "wasn't she one of those that got intoCrewe's sleigh?"

"Tom, " said Austen, "where did you say that livery-stable was?"

"Oh, dang the livery-stable!" answered Mr. Gaylord. "I hear there's quitea sentiment for you for governor. How about it? You know I've always saidyou could be United States senator and President. If you'll only say theword, Austen, we'll work up a movement around the State that'll be hardto beat. "

"Tom, " said Austen, laying his hand on young Mr. Gaylord's farthershoulder, "you're a pretty good fellow. Where did you say thatlivery-stable was?

"I'll go sleigh-riding with you, " said Mr. Gaylord. "I guess thePingsquit bill can rest one afternoon. "

"Tom, I don't know any man I'd rather take than you, " said Austen. 

The unsuspecting Tom was too good-natured to be offended, and shortlyafter dinner Austen found himself in the process of being looked over bya stout gentleman named Putter, proprietor of Putter's Livery, whoclaimed to be a judge of men as well as horses. Austen had been throughhis stalls and chosen a mare. 

"Durned if you don't look like a man who can handle a horse, " said Mr. Putter. And as long as you're a friend of Tom Gaylord's I'll let youhave her. Nobody drives that mare but me. What's your name?"

"Vane. "

"Ain't any relation to old Hilary, be you?"

"I'm his son, " said Austen, "only he doesn't boast about it. "

"Godfrey!" exclaimed Mr. Putter, with a broad grin, "I guess you kin haveher. Ain't you the man that shot a feller out West? Seems to me I heerdsomethin' about it. "

"Which one did you hear about?" Austen asked. 

"Good Lord!" said Mr. Putter, "you didn't shoot more'n one, did you?"

It was just three o'clock when Austen drove into the semicircle oppositethe Widow Peasley's, rang Mr. Crewe's door-bell, and leaped into thesleigh once more, the mare's nature being such as to make it undesirableto leave her. Presently Mr. Crewe's butler appeared, and stood dubiouslyin the vestibule. 

"Will you tell Miss Flint that Mr. Vane has called for her, and that Icannot leave the horse?"

The man retired with obvious disapproval. Then Austen heard Victoria'svoice in the hallway:--"Don't make a goose of yourself, Humphrey. " Hereshe appeared, the colour fresh in her cheeks, her slender figure clad ina fur which even Austen knew was priceless. She sprang into the sleigh, the butler, with annoying deliberation, and with the air of saying thatthis was an affair of which he washed his hands, tucked in Mr. Putter'sbest robe about her feet, the mare leaped forward, and they were off, outof the circle and flying up the hill on the hard snow-tracks. 

"Whew!" exclaimed Victoria, "what a relief! Are you staying in that dearlittle house?" she asked, with a glance at the Widow Peasley's. 

"Yes, " said Austen. 

"I wish I were. "

He looked at her shyly. He was not a man to do homage to material gods, but the pomp and circumstance with which she was surrounded had had asobering effect upon him, and added to his sense of the instability andunreality of the present moment. He had an almost guilty feeling ofhaving broken an unwritten law, of abducting a princess, and the oldDuncan house had seemed to frown protestingly that such an act shouldhave taken place under its windows. If Victoria had been--to him--anordinary mortal in expensive furs instead of a princess, he would havesnapped his fingers at the pomp and circumstance. These typified thecomforts which, in a wild and forgetful moment, he might ask her toleave. Not that he believed she would leave them. He had lived longenough to know that an interest by a woman in a man--especially a manbeyond the beaten track of her observation--did not necessarily mean thatshe might marry him if he asked her. And yet--oh, Tantalus! here she wasbeside him, for one afternoon again his very own, their two souls ringingwith the harmony of whirling worlds in sunlit space. He sought refuge inthin thought; he strove, in oblivion, to drain the cup of the hour of itsnectar, even as he had done before. Generations of Puritan Vanes (whosedescendant alone had harassed poor Sarah Austere) were in his blood; andthere they hung in the long gallery of Time, mutely but sternlyforbidding when he raised his hand to the stem. 

In silence they reached the crest where the little city ended abruptly inview of the paradise of the silent hills, --his paradise, where there wereno palaces or thought of palaces. The wild wind of the morning was still. In this realm at least, a heritage from his mother, seemingly untroddenby the foot of man, the woman at his side was his. From Holdfast over thespruces to Sawanec in the blue distance he was lord, a domain the wealthof which could not be reckoned in the coin of Midas. He turned to her asthey flew down the slope, and she averted her face, perchance perceivingin that look a possession from which a woman shrinks; and her remark, startlingly indicative of the accord between them, lent a no lessstartling reality to the enchantment. 

"This is your land, isn't it?" she said. 

"I sometimes feel as though it were, " he answered. "I was out here thismorning, when the wind was at play, " and he pointed with his whip at afantastic snowdrift, before I saw you. "

"You looked as though you had come from it, " she answered. You seemed--I suppose you will think me silly--but you seemed to bring something ofthis with you into that hail. I always think of you as out on the hillsand mountains. "

"And you, " he said, "belong here, too. "

She drew a deep breath. 

"I wish I did. But you--you really do belong here. You seem to haveabsorbed all the clearness of it, and the strength and vigour. I waswatching you this morning, and you were so utterly out of place in thosesurroundings. " Victoria paused, her colour deepening. 

His blood kept pace with the mare's footsteps, but he did not reply. 

"What did you think of Humphrey's speech?" she asked, abruptly changingthe subject. 

"I thought it a surprisingly good one, --what I heard of it, " he answered. "That wasn't much. I didn't think he'd do as well. "

"Humphrey's clever in a great many ways, " Victoria agreed. "If he didn'thave such an impenetrable conceit, he might go far, because he learnsquickly, and has an industry that is simply appalling. But he hasn'tquite the manner for politics, has he?"

"I think I should call his manner a drawback, " said Austen, "though notby any means an insurmountable one. "

Victoria laughed. 

"The other qualities all need to be very great, " she said. "He wasfurious at me for coming out this afternoon. He had it all arranged todrive over to the Forge, and had an early lunch. "

"And I, " said Austen, "have all the more reason to be grateful to you. "

"Oh, if you knew the favour you were doing me, " she cried, "bringing meout here where I can breathe. I hope you don't think I dislike Humphrey, "she went on. "Of course, if I did, I shouldn't visit him. You see, I haveknown him for so long. "

"I hadn't a notion that you disliked him, " said Austen. "I am curiousabout his career; that's one reason I came down. He somehow inspirescuriosity. "

"And awe, " she added. "Humphrey's career has all the fascination of arunaway locomotive. One watches it transfixed, awaiting the inevitablecrash. "

Their eyes met, and they both laughed. 

"It's no use trying to be a humbug, " said Victoria, "I can't. And I dolike Humphrey, in spite of his career. "

And they laughed again. The music of the bells ran faster and fasterstill, keeping time to a wilder music of the sunlit hills and sky; norwas it strange that her voice, when she spoke, did not break the spell, but laid upon him a deeper sense of magic. 

"This brings back the fairy books, " she said, "and all those wonderfuland never-to-be-forgotten sensations of the truant, doesn't it? You'vebeen a truant--haven't you?"

"Yes, " he laughed, "I've been a truant, but I never quite realized thepossibilities of the part--until to-day. "

She was silent a moment, and turned away her head, surveying thelandscape that fell away for miles beyond. 

"When I was a child, " she said, "I used to think that by opening a door Icould step into an enchanted realm like this. Only I could never find thedoor. Perhaps, " she added, gayly pursuing the conceit, "it was becauseyou had the key, and I didn't know you in those days. " She gave him aswift, searching look, smiling, whimsical yet startled, --so elusive thatthe memory of it afterwards was wont to come and go like a flash oflight. "Who are you?" she asked. 

His blood leaped, but he smiled in delighted understanding of her mood. Sarah Austen had brought just such a magic touch to an excursion, andeven at that moment Austen found himself marvelling a little at thestrange resemblance between the two. 

"I am a plain person whose ancestors came from a village called CamdenStreet, " he replied. "Camden Street is there, on a shelf of the hills, and through the arch of its elms you can look off over the forests of thelowlands until they end in the blue reaches of the ocean, --if you couldsee far enough. "

"If you could see far enough, " said Victoria, unconsciously repeating hiswords. "But that doesn't explain you, " she exclaimed: "You are likenobody I ever met, and you have a supernatural faculty of appearingsuddenly, from nowhere, and whisking me away like the lady in the fable, out of myself and the world I live in. If I become so inordinatelygrateful as to talk nonsense, you mustn't blame me. Try not to think ofthe number of times I've seen you, or when it was we first met. "

"I believe, " said Austen, gravely, "it was when a mammoth beast had hiscave on Holdfast, and the valleys were covered with cocoanut-palms. "

"And you appeared suddenly then, too, and rescued me. You have alwaysbeen uniformly kind, " she said, "but--a little intangible. "

"A myth, " he suggested, "with neither height, breadth, nor thickness. "

"You have height and breadth, " she answered, measuring him swiftly withher eye; "I am not sure about the thickness. Perhaps. What I mean to sayis, that you seem to be a person in the world, but not of it. Your exitsand entrances are too mysterious, and then you carry me out of it, --although I invite myself, which is not at all proper. "

"I came down here to see you, " he said, and took a firmer grip on thereins. "I exist to that extent. "

"That's unworthy of you, " she cried. "I don't believe you--would haveknown I was here unless you had caught eight of me. "

"I should have known it, " he said. 

"How?"

"Because I heard you playing. I am sure it was you playing. "

"Yes, it was I, " she answered simply, "but I did not know that--youheard. Where were you?

"I suppose, " he replied, "a sane witness would have testified that I wasin the street--one of those partial and material truths which are somisleading. "

She laughed again, joyously. 

"Seriously, why did you come down here?" she insisted. "I am not soabsorbed in Humphrey's career that I cannot take an interest in yours. Infact, yours interests me more, because it is more mysterious. Humphrey's, " she added, laughing, "is charted from day to day, andannounced in bulletins. He is more generous to his friends than--you. "

"I have nothing to chart, " said Austen, "except such pilgrimages asthis, --and these, after all, are unchartable. Your friend, Mr. Crewe, onthe other hand, is well away on his voyage after the Golden Fleece. Ihope he is provided with a Lynceus. "

She was silent for a long time, but he was feverishly conscious of hergaze upon him, and did not dare to turn his eyes to hers. The look inthem he beheld without the aid of physical vision, and in that look wasthe world-old riddle of her sex typified in the image on the Africandesert, which Napoleon had tried to read, and failed. And while wisdomwas in the look, there was in it likewise the eternal questioning of afate quite as inscrutable, against which wisdom would avail nothing. Itwas that look which, for Austen, revealed in her in their infinitevariety all women who had lived; those who could resist, and those whocould yield, and yielding all, bestow a gift which left them stillpriceless; those to whom sorrow might bring sadness, and knowledgemourning, and yet could rob them of no jot of sweetness. And knowingthis, he knew that to gain her now (could such a high prize be gained!)would be to lose her. If he were anything to her (realize it or not asshe might), it was because he found strength to resist this greatesttemptation of his life. Yield, and his guerdon was lost, and he would beAusten Vane no longer--yield, and his right to act, which would make himof value in her eyes as well as in his own, was gone forever. 

Well he knew what the question in her eyes meant or something of what itmeant, so inexplicably is the soul of woman linked to events. He hadpondered often on that which she had asked him when he had brought herhome over the hills in the autumn twilight. He remembered her words, andthe very inflection of her voice. "Then you won't tell me?" How could hetell her? He became aware that she was speaking now, in an even tone. 

"I had an odd experience this morning, when I was waiting for Mrs. Pomfret outside the state-house, " she said. "A man was standing lookingup at the statue of the patriot with a strange, rapt expression on hisface, --such a good face, --and he was so big and honest and uncompromisingI wanted to talk to him. I didn't realize that I was staring at him sohard, because I was trying to remember where I had seen him before, --andthen I remembered suddenly that it was with you. "

"With me?" Austen repeated. 

"You were standing with him, in front of the little house, when I saveyou yesterday. His name was Redbrook. It appears that he had seen me, "Victoria replied, "when I went to Mercer to call on Zeb Meader. And heasked me if I knew you. "

"Of course you denied it, " said Austen. 

"I couldn't, very well, " laughed Victoria, "because you had confessed tothe acquaintance first. "

"He merely wished to have the fact corroborated. Mr. Redbrook is a manwho likes to be sure of his ground. "

"He told me a very interesting thing about you, " she continued slowly, with her eye upon. Austen's profile. "He said that a great many menwanted you to be their candidate for governor of the State, --more thanyou had any idea of, --and that you wouldn't consent. Mr. Redbrook grew soenthusiastic that he forgot, for the moment, my--relationship to therailroad. He is not the only person with whom I have talked who has--forgotten it, or hasn't known of it. "

Austen was silent. 

"Why won't you be a candidate, " she asked, in a low voice, "if such menas that want you?"

"I am afraid Mr. Redbrook exaggerates, " he said. "The popular demand ofwhich he spoke is rather mythical. And I should be inclined to accusehim, too, of a friendly attempt to install me in your good graces. "

"No, " answered Victoria, smiling, with serious eyes, "I won't be put offthat way. Mr. Redbrook isn't the kind of man that exaggerates--I've seenenough of his type to know that. And he told me about your--receptionlast night at the Widow Peasley's. You wouldn't have told me, " she addedreproachfully. 

He laughed. 

"It was scarcely a subject I could have ventured, " he said. 

"But I asked you, " she objected. "Now tell me, why did you refuse to betheir candidate? It wasn't because you were not likely to get elected, was it?"

He permitted himself a glance which was a tribute of admiration--a glancewhich she returned steadfastly. 

"It isn't likely that I should have been elected, " he answered, "but youare right--that is not the reason I refused. "

"I thought not, " she said, "I did not believe you were the kind of man torefuse for that reason. And you would have been elected. "

"What makes you think so?" he asked curiously. 

"I have been thinking since I saw you last--yes, and I have been makinginquiries. I have been trying to find out things--which you will not tellme. " She paused, with a little catch of her breath, and went on again. "Do you believe I came all the way up here just to hear Humphrey Crewemake a speech and to drive with him in a high sleigh and listen to himtalk about his career? When serious men of the people like Mr. Redbrookand that nice Mr. Jenney at Leith and a lot of others who do notordinarily care for politics are thinking and indignant, I have come tothe conclusion there must be a cause for it. They say that the railroadgoverns them through disreputable politicians, --and I--I am beginning tobelieve it is true. I have had some of the politicians pointed out to mein the Legislature, and they look like it. "

Austen did not smile. She was speaking quietly, but he saw that she wasbreathing deeply, and he knew that she possessed a courage which went farbeyond that of most women, and an insight into life and affairs. 

"I am going to find out, " she said, "whether these things are true. "

"And then?" he asked involuntarily. 

"If they are true, I am going to tell my father about them, and ask himto investigate. Nobody seems to have the courage to go to him. "

Austen did not answer. He felt the implication; he knew that, withoutrealizing his difficulties, and carried on by a feeling long pent up, shehad measured him unjustly, and yet he felt no resentment, and no shock. Perhaps he might feel that later. Now he was filled only with a sympathythat was yet another common bond between them. Suppose she did find out?He knew that she would not falter until she came to the end of herinvestigation, to the revelation of Mr. Flint's code of business ethics. Should the revolt take place, she would be satisfied with nothing lessthan the truth, even as he, Austen Vane, had not been satisfied. And hethought of the life-long faith that would be broken thereby. 

They had made the circle of the hills, and the sparkling lights of thecity lay under them like blue diamond points in the twilight of thevalley. The crests behind them deepened in purple as the saffron faded inthe west, and a gossamer cloud of Tyrian dye floated over Holdfast. Insilence they turned for a last lingering look, and in silence went downthe slope into the world again, and through the streets to the drivewayof the Duncan house. It was only when they had stopped before the doorthat she trusted herself to speak. 

"I ought not to have said what I did, " she began, in a low voice; "Ididn't realize--but I cannot understand you. "

"You have said nothing which you need ever have cause to regret, " hereplied. He was too great for excuses, too great for any sorrow save whatshe herself might feel, as great as the silent hills from which he came. 

She stood for a moment on the edge of the steps, her eyes lustrous, --yetgazing into his with a searching, troubled look that haunted him for manydays. But her self-command was unshaken, her power to control speech wasthe equal of his. And this power of silence in her revealed in suchinstants--was her greatest fascination for Austen, the thing which sether apart among women; which embodied for him the whole charm and mysteryof her sex. 

"Good-by, " she said simply. 

"Good-by, " he said, and seized her hand--and drove away. 

Without ringing the bell Victoria slipped into the hall, --for the latchwas not caught, --and her first impulse was to run up the staircase to herroom. But she heard Mrs. Pomfret's voice on the landing above and fled, as to a refuge, into the dark drawing-room, where she stood for a momentmotionless, listening for the sound of his sleigh-bells as they faintedon the winter's night. Then she seated herself to think, if she could, though it is difficult to think when one's heart is beating a littlewildly. It was Victoria's nature to think things out. For the first timein her life she knew sorrow, and it made it worse that that sorrow wasindefinable. She felt an accountable attraction for this man who had sostrangely come into her life, whose problems had suddenly become herproblems. But she did not connect the attraction for Austen Vane with hermisery. She recalled him as he had left her, big and strong andsorrowful, with a yearning look that was undisguised, and while her faithin him came surging back again, she could not understand. 

Gradually she became aware of men's voices, and turned with a start toperceive that the door of the library was open, and that Humphrey Creweand another were standing in the doorway against the light. With aneffort of memory she identified the other man as the Mr. Tooting who hadmade himself so useful at Mr. Crewe's garden party. 

"I told you I could make you governor, Mr. Crewe, " Mr. Tooting wassaying. "Say, why do you think the Northeastern crowd--why do you thinkHilary Vane is pushing your bills down the sidings? I'll tell you, because they know you're a man of ability, and they're afraid of you, andthey know you're a gentleman, and can't be trusted with their deals, sothey just shunted you off at Kodunk with a jolly about sendin' you toCongress if you made a hit on a national speech. I've been in thebusiness a good many years, and I've seen and done some things for theNortheastern that stick in my throat"--(at this point Victoria sat downagain and gripped the arms of her chair), "I don't like to see a decentman sawbucked the way they're teeterin' you, Mr. Crewe. I know what I'mtalkin' about, and I tell you that Ridout and Jake Botcher and BrushBascom haven't any more notion of lettin' your bills out of committeethan they have Gaylord's. Why? Because they've got orders not to. "

"You're making some serious charges, Mr. Tooting, " said Mr. Crewe. 

"And what's more, I can prove 'em. You know yourself that anybody whotalks against the Northeastern is booted down and blacklisted. You'veseen that, haven't you?"

"I have observed, " said Mr. Crewe, "that things do not seem to be as theyshould in a free government. "

"And it makes your blood boil as an American citizen, don't it? It doesmine, " said Mr. Tooting, with fine indignation. "I was a poor boy, andhad to earn my living, but I've made up my mind I've worn the collar longenough--if I have to break rocks. And I want to repeat what I said alittle while ago, " he added, weaving his thumb into Mr. Crewe'sbuttonhole; "I know a thing or two, and I've got some brains, as theyknow, and I can make you governor of this State if you'll only say theword. It's a cinch. "

Victoria started to rise once more, and realized that to escape she wouldhave to cross the room directly in front of the two men. She remainedsitting where she was in a fearful fascination, awaiting Humphrey Crewe'sanswer. There was a moment's pause. 

"I believe you made the remark, Mr. Tooting, " he said, "that in youropinion there is enough anti-railroad sentiment in the House to pass anybill which the railroad opposes. "

"If a leader was to get up there, like you, with the arguments I couldput into his hands, they would make the committee discharge thatPingsquit bill of the Gaylords', and pass it. "

"On what do you base your opinion?" asked Mr. Crewe. 

"Well, " said Mr. Tooting, "I guess I'm a pretty shrewd observer and havehad practice enough. But you know Austen Vane, don't you?"

Victoria held her breath. 

"I've a slight acquaintance with him, " replied Mr. Crewe; "I've helpedhim along in one or two minor legal matters. He seems to be a little--well, pushing, you might say. "

"I want to tell you one thing about Austen, " continued Mr. Tooting. "Although I don't stand much for old Hilary, I'd take Austen Vane'sopinion on most things as soon as that of any man in the State. If heonly had some sense about himself, he could be governor next time--there's a whole lot that wants him. I happen to know some of 'emoffered it to him last night. "

"Austen Vane governor!" exclaimed Mr. Crewe, with a politely deprecatinglaugh. 

"It may sound funny, " said Mr. Tooting, stoutly; "I never understood whathe has about him. He's never done anything but buck old Hilary in thatdamage case and send back a retainer pass to old Flint, but he's gotsomething in his make-up that gets under your belt, and a good many ofthese old hayseeds'll eat out of his hand, right now. Well, I don't wantthis to go any farther, you're a gentleman, --but Austen came down hereyesterday and had the whole thing sized up by last night. Old Hilarythought the Gaylords sent for him to lobby their bill through. They mayhave sent for him, all right, but he wouldn't lobby for 'em. He couldhave made a pile of money out of 'em. Austen doesn't seem to care aboutmoney--he's queer. He says as long as he has a horse and a few books anda couple of sandwiches a day he's all right. Hilary had him up in NumberSeven tryin' to find out what he came down for, and Austen told himpretty straight--what he didn't tell the Gaylords, either. He kind oflikes old Hilary, --because he's his father, I guess, --and he said therewere enough men in that House to turn Hilary and his crowd upside down. That's how I know for certain. If Austen Vane said it, I'll borrow moneyto bet on it, " declared Mr. Tooting. 

"You don't think young Vane is going to get into the race?" queried Mr. Crewe. 

"No, " said Mr. Tooting, somewhat contemptuously. "No, I tell you hehasn't got that kind of sense. He never took any trouble to get ahead, and I guess he's sort of sensitive about old Hilary. It'd make a gooddeal of a scandal in the family, with Austen as an anti-railroadcandidate. " Mr. Tooting lowered his voice to a tone that was caressinglyconfidential. "I tell you, and you sleep on it, a man of your brains andmoney can't lose. It's a chance in a million, and when you win you've gotthis little State tight in your pocket, and a desk in the millionaire'sclub at Washington. Well, so long, " said Mr. Tooting, "you think thatover. "

"You have, at least, put things in a new and interesting light, " said Mr. Crewe. "I will try to decide what my duty is. "

"Your duty's pretty plain to me, " said Mr. Tooting. "If I had money, I'dknow that the best way to use it is for the people, --ain't that so?"

"In the meantime, " Mr. Crewe continued, "you may drop in to-morrow atthree. "

"You'd better make it to-morrow night, hadn't you?" said Mr. Tooting, significantly. "There ain't any back way to this house. "

"As you choose, " said Mr. Crewe. 

They passed within a few feet of Victoria, who resisted an almostuncontrollable impulse to rise and confront them. The words given her touse were surging in her brain, and yet she withheld them why, she knewnot. Perhaps it was because, after such communion as the afternoon hadbrought, the repulsion she felt for Mr. Tooting aided her to sit whereshe was. She heard the outside door open and close, and she saw HumphreyCrewe walk past her again into his library, and that door closed, and shewas left in darkness. Darkness indeed for Victoria, who throughout herlife had lived in light alone; in the light she had shed, and the lightwhich she had kindled in others. With a throb which was an exquisitepain, she understood now the compassion in Austen's eyes, and she saw sosimply and so clearly why he had not told her that her face burned withthe shame of her demand. The one of all others to whom she could go inthis trouble was denied her, and his lips were sealed, who would havespoken honestly and without prejudice. She rose and went quietly out intothe biting winter night, and stood staring through the trees at thefriendly reddened windows of the little cottage across the way with ayearning that passed her understanding. Out of those windows, toVictoria, shone honesty and truth, and the peace which these alone maybring. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE DESCENDANTS OF HORATIUS

So the twenty honourable members of the State Senate had been dubbed bythe man who had a sense of humour and a smattering of the classics, because they had been put there to hold the bridge against the Tarquinswho would invade the dominions of the Northeastern. Twenty picked men, and true they were indeed, but a better name for their body would havebeen the 'Life Guard of the Sovereign. ' The five hundred far below themmight rage and at times revolt, but the twenty in their shining armourstood undaunted above the vulnerable ground and smiled grimly at the mob. The citadel was safe. 

The real Horatius of the stirring time of which we write was that old andtried veteran, the Honourable Brush Bascom; and Spurius Lartius might betypified by the indomitable warrior, the Honourable Jacob Botcher, whilethe Honourable Samuel Doby of Hale, Speaker of the House, wasunquestionably Herminius. How the three held the bridge that year will betold in as few and as stirring words as possible. A greater than Porsenaconfronted them, and well it was for them, and for the Empire, that theBody Guard of the Twenty stood behind them. 

 "Lars Porsena of Clusium, By the Nine Gods he swore. "

The morning after the State Tribune had printed that memorable speech onnational affairs--statistics and all, with an editorial which gave everyevidence of Mr. Peter Pardriff's best sparkle--Mr. Crewe appeared on thefloor of the House with a new look in his eye which made discerning menturn and stare at him. It was the look of the great when they are justlyindignant, when their trust--nobly given--has been betrayed. Washington, for instance, must have had just such a look on the battlefield ofTrenton. The Honourable Jacob Botcher, pressing forward as fast as hisbulk would permit and with the newspaper in his hand, was met by a calmand distant manner which discomposed that statesman, and froze his stoutindex finger to the editorial which "perhaps Mr. Crewe had not seen. "

Mr. Crewe was too big for resentment, but he knew how to meet people whodidn't measure up to his standards. Yes, he had seen the editorial, andthe weather still continued fine. The Honourable Jacob was left behindscratching his head, and presently he sought a front seat in which tothink, the back ones not giving him room enough. The brisk, cheerygreeting of the Honourable Brush Bascom fared no better, but Mr. Bascomwas a philosopher, and did not disturb the great when their minds wererevolving on national affairs and the welfare of humanity in general. Mr. Speaker Doby and Mr. Ridout got but abstract salutations also, and werecorrespondingly dismayed. 

That day, and for many days thereafter, Mr. Crewe spent some time--as wasentirely proper--among the back seats, making the acquaintance of hishumbler fellow members of the submerged four hundred and seventy. He hadtoo long neglected this, so he told them, but his mind had been on highmatters. During many of his mature years he had pondered as to how thewelfare of community and State could be improved, and the result of thatthought was embodied in the bills of which they had doubtless receivedcopies. If not, down went their names in a leather-bound memorandum, andthey got copies in the next mails. 

The delight of some of the simple rustic members at this unbending of agreat man may be imagined. To tell the truth, they had looked with littlefavour upon the intimacy which had sprung up between him and thosetyrannical potentates, Messrs. Botcher and Bascom, and many who had thecourage of their convictions expressed then very frankly. Messrs. Botcherand Bascom were, when all was said, mere train despatchers of theNortheastern, who might some day bring on a wreck the like of which theState had never seen. Mr. Crewe was in a receptive mood; indeed hisnature, like Nebuchadnezzar's, seemed to have experienced someindefinable and vital change. Was this the Mr. Crewe the humble ruralmembers had pictured to themselves? Was this the Mr. Crewe who, at thebeginning of the session, had told them roundly it was their duty to votefor his bills?

Mr. Crewe was surprised, he said, to hear so much sentiment against theNortheastern Railroads. Yes, he was a friend of Mr. Flint's--they wereneighbours in the country. But if these charges had any foundationwhatever, they ought to be looked into--they ought to be taken up. Asovereign people should not be governed by a railroad. Mr. Crewe was abusiness man, but first of all he was a citizen; as a business man he didnot intend to talk vaguely, but to investigate thoroughly. And then, ifcharges should be made, he would make them specifically, and as a citizencontend for the right. 

It is difficult to restrain one's pen in dealing with a hero, but it isnot too much to say that Mr. Crewe impressed many of the country membersfavourably. How, indeed, could he help doing so? His language wasmoderate, his poise that of a man of affairs, and there was a look in hiseye and a determination in his manner that boded ill for the Northeasternif he should, after weighing the facts, decide that they ought to beflagellated. His friendship with Mr. Flint and the suspicion that hemight be inclined to fancy Mr. Flint's daughter would not influence himin the least; of that many of his hearers were sure. Not a few of themwere invited to dinner at the Duncan house, and shown the library and theconservatory. 

"Walk right in, " said Mr. Crewe. "You can't hurt the flowers unless youbump against the pots, and if you walk straight you can't do that. Ibrought the plants down from my own hothouse in Leith. Those are Frenchgeraniums--very hard to get. They're double, you see, and don't look likethe scrawny things you see in this country. Yes (with a good-naturedsmile), I guess they do cost something. I'll ask my secretary what I paidfor that plant. Is that dinner, Waters? Come right in, gentlemen, wewon't wait for ceremony. "

Whereupon the delegation would file into the dining room in solemnsilence behind the imperturbable Waters, with dubious glances at Mr. Waters' imperturbable understudy in green and buff and silver buttons. Honest red hands, used to milking at five o'clock in the morning, andhands not so red that measured dry goods over rural counters forinsistent female customers fingered in some dismay what seemed aninexplicable array of table furniture. 

"It don't make any difference which fork you take, " said the good-naturedowner of this palace of luxury, "only I shouldn't advise you to use onefor the soup you wouldn't get much of it--what? Yes, this house suits mevery well. It was built by old man Duncan, you know, and his daughtermarried an Italian nobleman and lives in a castle. The State ought to buythe house for a governor's mansion. It's a disgrace that our governorshould have to live in the Pelican Hotel, and especially in a room nextto that of the chief counsel of the Northeastern, with only a curtain anda couple of folding doors between. "

"That's right, " declared an up-state member, the governor hadn't ought tolive next to Vane. But as to gettin' him a house like this--kind ofroyal, ain't it? Couldn't do justice to it on fifteen hundred a year, could he? Costs you a little mite more to live in it, don't it?"

"It costs me something, " Mr. Crewe admitted modestly. "But then ourgovernors are all rich men, or they couldn't afford to pay theNortheastern lobby campaign expenses. Not that I believe in a rich manfor governor, gentlemen. My contention is that the State should pay itsgovernors a sufficient salary to make them independent of theNortheastern, a salary on which they can live as befits a chiefexecutive. "

These sentiments, and others of a similar tenor, were usually received insilence by his rural guests, but Mr. Crewe, being a broad-minded man ofhuman understanding, did not set down their lack of response to surlinessor suspicion of a motive, but rather to the innate caution of the hillfarmer; and doubtless, also, to a natural awe of the unwonted splendourwith which they were surrounded. In a brief time his kindly hospitalitybecame a byword in the capital, and fabulous accounts of it were carriedhome at week ends to toiling wives and sons and daughters, to incredulouscitizens who sat on cracker boxes and found the Sunday papers stale andunprofitable for weeks thereafter. The geraniums--the price of which Mr. Crewe had forgotten to find out--were appraised at four figures, and theconservatory became the hanging gardens of Babylon under glass; thefunctionary in buff and green and silver buttons and his duties furnishedthe subject for long and heated arguments. And incidentally everybody whohad a farm for sale wrote to Mr. Crewe. Since the motives of everyphilanthropist and public benefactor are inevitably challenged by cynics, there were many who asked the question, "What did Mr. Crewe want?" It ispainful even to touch upon this when we know that Mr. Crewe was merelydoing his duty as he saw it, when we know that he spelled the word, mentally, with a capital D. 

There were many, too, who remarked that a touching friendship in thefront seats (formerly plainly visible to the naked eye from the back) hadbeen strained--at least. Mr. Crewe still sat with Mr. Botcher and Mr. Bascom, but he was not a man to pretend after the fires had cooled. TheHonourable Jacob Botcher, with his eyes shut so tight, that his honestface wore an expression of agony, seemed to pray every morning for therenewal of that friendship when the chaplain begged the Lord to guide theLegislature into the paths of truth; and the Honourable Brush Bascom worean air of resignation which was painful to see. Conversation languished, and the cosey and familiar haunts of the Pelican knew Mr. Crewe no more. 

Mr. Crewe never forgot, of course, that he was a gentleman, and a certainpolite intercourse existed. During the sessions, as a matter of fact, Mr. Bascom had many things to whisper to Mr. Botcher, and Mr. Butcher to Mr. Bascom, and in order to facilitate this Mr. Crewe changed seats with theHonourable Jacob. Neither was our hero a man to neglect, on account ofstrained relations, to insist upon his rights. His eyes were open now, and he saw men and things political as they were; he knew that his billsfor the emancipation of the State were prisoners in the maw of thedragon, and not likely to see the light of law. Not a legislative daypassed that he did not demand, with a firmness and restraint which didhim infinite credit, that Mr. Bascom's and Mr. Butcher's committeesreport those bills to the House either favourably or unfavourably. And wemust do exact justice, likewise, to Messrs. Bascom and Butcher; they, too, incited perhaps thereto by Mr. Crewe's example, answered courteouslythat the very excellent bills in question were of such weight andimportance as not to be decided on lightly, and that there were necessaryState expenditures which had first to be passed upon. Mr. Speaker Doby, with all the will in the world, could do nothing: and on such occasions(Mr. Crewe could see) Mr. Doby bore a striking resemblance to the pictureof the mockturtle in "Alice m Wonderland"--a fact which had been pointedout by Miss Victoria Flint. In truth, all three of these gentlemen wore, when questioned, such a sorrowful and injured air as would have deceiveda more experienced politician than the new member from Leith. The will tooblige was infinite. 

There was no doubt about the fact that the session was rapidly drawing toa close; and likewise that the committees guided by the Honourables JacobButcher and Brush Bascom, composed of members carefully picked by thatjudge of mankind, Mr. Doby, were wrestling day and night (behind closeddoors) with the intellectual problems presented by the bills of themember from Leith. It is not to be supposed that a man of Mr. Crewe'sshrewdness would rest at the word of the chairmen. Other members werecatechized, and in justice to Messrs. Bascom and Botcher it must beadmitted that the assertions of these gentlemen were confirmed. Itappeared that the amount of thought which was being lavished upon thesemeasures was appalling. 

By this time Mr. Crewe had made some new friends, as was inevitable whensuch a man unbent. Three of these friends owned, by a singular chance, weekly newspapers, and having conceived a liking as well as an admirationfor him, began to say pleasant things about him in their columns--whichMr. Crewe (always thoughtful) sent to other friends of his. These new andaccidental newspaper friends declared weekly that measures of paramountimportance were slumbering in committees, and cited the measures. Otherfriends of Mr. Crewe were so inspired by affection and awe that theyactually neglected their business and spent whole days in the ruraldistricts telling people what a fine man Mr. Crewe was and circulatingpetitions for his bills; and incidentally the committees of Mr. Butcherand Mr. Bascom were flooded with these petitions, representing thespontaneous sentiment of an aggrieved populace. 

 "Just then a scout came flying, All wild with haste and fear To arms! to arms! Sir Consul Lars Porsena is here. On the low hills to westward The Consul fixed his eye, And saw the swarthy storm of dust Rise fast along the sky. "

It will not do to push a comparison too far, and Mr. Hamilton Tooting, ofcourse, ought not to be made to act the part of Tarquin the Proud. LikeTarquin, however, he had been deposed--one of those fatuous acts whichthe wisest will commit. No more could the Honourable Hilary well belikened to Pandora, for he only opened the box wide enough to allow onemischievous sprite to take wings--one mischievous sprite that was toprove a host. Talented and invaluable lieutenant that he was, Mr. Tootinghad become an exile, to explain to any audience who should make it worthhis while the mysterious acts by which the puppets on the stage weremoved, and who moved them; who, for instance, wrote the declamation whichhis Excellency Asa Gray recited as his own. Mr. Tooting, as we have seen, had a remarkable business head, and combined with it--as Austen Vaneremarked--the rare instinct of the Norway rat which goes down to the seain ships--when they are safe. Burrowing continually amongst the bowels ofthe vessel, Mr. Tooting knew the weak timbers better than the HonourableHilary Vanes who thought the ship as sound as the day Augustus Flint hadlaunched her. But we have got a long way from Horatius in our imagery. 

Little birds flutter around the capital, picking up what crumbs they may. One of them, occasionally fed by that humanitarian, the Honourable JacobBotcher, whispered a secret that made the humanitarian knit his brows. Hewas the scout that came flying (if by a burst of imagination we canconceive the Honourable Jacob in this aerial act)--came flying to theConsul in room Number Seven with the news that Mr. Hamilton Tooting hadbeen detected on two evenings slipping into the Duncan house. But theConsul--strong man that he was--merely laughed. The Honourable ElishaJane did some scouting on his own account. Some people are so small as tobe repelled by greatness, to be jealous of high gifts and power, and itwas perhaps inevitable that a few of the humbler members whom Mr. Crewehad entertained should betray his hospitality, and misinterpret his puremotives. 

It was a mere coincidence, perhaps, that after Mr. Jane's investigationthe intellectual concentration which one of the committees had bestowedon two of Mr. Crewe's bills came to an end. These bills, it is true, carried no appropriation, and, were, respectively, the acts toincorporate the State Economic League and the Children's CharitiesAssociation. These suddenly appeared in the House one morning, withfavourable recommendations, and, mirabile dicta, the end of the day sawthem through the Senate and signed by the governor. At last Mr. Crewe byhis Excellency had stamped the mark of his genius on the statute books, and the Honourable Jacob Botcher, holding out an olive branch, took theliberty of congratulating him. 

A vainer man, a lighter character than Humphrey Crewe, would have beencontent to have got something; and let it rest at that. Little Mr. Butcher or Mr. Speaker Doby, with his sorrowful smile, guessed the ironhand within the velvet glove of the Leith statesman; little they knew theman they were dealing with. Once aroused, he would not be pacified bybribes of cheap olive branches and laurels. When the proper time came, hewould fling down the gauntlet--before Rome itself, and then let Horatiusand his friends beware. 

The hour has struck at last--and the man is not wanting. The FrenchRevolution found Napoleon ready, and our own Civil War General UlyssesGrant. Of that ever memorable session but three days remained, and thosewho had been prepared to rise in the good cause had long since despaired. The Pingsquit bill, and all other bills that spelled liberty, were stillprisoners in the hands of grim jailers, and Thomas Gaylord, the elder, had worn several holes in the carpet of his private room in the Pelican, and could often be descried from Main Street running up and down betweenthe windows like a caged lion, while young Tom had been spied standing, with his hands in his pockets, smiling on the world. 

Young Tom had his own way of doing things, though he little dreamed ofthe help Heaven was to send him in this matter. There was, in the lowerHouse, a young man by the name of Harper, a lawyer from Brighton, who wassufficiently eccentric not to carry a pass. The light of fame, as thesunset gilds a weathercock on a steeple, sometimes touches such men foran instant and makes them immortal. The name of Mr. Harper is remembered, because it is linked with a greater one. But Mr. Harper was the first manover the wall. 

History chooses odd moments for her entrances. It was at the end of oneof those busy afternoon sessions, with a full house, when Messrs. Bascom, Botcher, and Ridout had done enough of blocking and hacking and hewing tosatisfy those doughty defenders of the bridge, that a slight, unprepossessing-looking young man with spectacles arose to make a motion. The Honourable Jacob Botcher, with his books and papers under his arm, was already picking his way up the aisle, nodding genially to such of thefaithful as he saw; Mr. Bascom was at the Speaker's desk, and Mr. Ridoutreceiving a messenger from the Honourable Hilary at the door. TheSpeaker, not without some difficulty, recognized Mr. Harper amidst whatseemed the beginning of an exodus--and Mr. Harper read his motion. 

Men halted in the aisles, and nudged other men to make them stop talking. Mr. Harper's voice was not loud, and it shook a trifle with excitement, but those who heard passed on the news so swiftly to those who had notthat the House was sitting (or standing) in amazed silence by the timethe motion reached the Speaker, who had actually risen to receive it. Mr. Doby regarded it for a few seconds and raised his eyes mournfully to Mr. Harper himself, as much as to say that he would give the young man achance to take it back if he could--if the words had not been spokenwhich would bring the offender to the block in the bloom and enthusiasmof youth. Misguided Mr. Harper had committed unutterable treason to theEmpire!

"The gentleman from Brighton, Mr. Harper, " said the Speaker, sadly, "offers the following resolution, and moves its adoption: 'Resolved, thatthe Committee on Incorporations be instructed to report House bill number302, entitled "An act to incorporate the Pingsquit Railroad, " byeleven-thirty o'clock to-morrow morning'--the gentleman from Putnam, Mr. Bascom. "

The House listened and looked on entranced, as though they were thespectators to a tragedy. And indeed it seemed as though they were. Neckswere craned to see Mr. Harper; he didn't look like a hero, but one nevercan tell about these little men. He had hurled defiance at theNortheastern Railroads, and that was enough for Mr. Redbrook and Mr. Widgeon and their friends, who prepared to rush into the fray trusting toHeaven for speech and parliamentary law. O for a leader now! Horatius ison the bridge, scarce concealing his disdain for this puny opponent, andLartius and Herminius not taking the trouble to arm. Mr. Bascom willcrush this one with the flat of his sword. 

"Mr. Speaker, " said that gentleman, informally, "as Chairman of theCommittee on Incorporations, I rise to protest against such an unheard-ofmotion in this House. The very essence of orderly procedure, of effectivebusiness, depends on the confidence of the House in its committees, andin all of my years as a member I have never known of such a thing. Gentlemen of the House, your committee are giving to this bill and othermeasures their undivided attention, and will report them at the earliestpracticable moment. I hope that this motion will be voted down. "

Mr. Bascom, with a glance around to assure himself that most of thehundred members of the Newcastle delegation--vassals of the WinonaCorporation and subject to the Empire--had not made use of their passesand boarded, as usual, the six o'clock train, took his seat. A buzz ofexcitement ran over the house, a dozen men were on their feet, includingthe plainly agitated Mr. Harper himself. But who is this, in the lunarcockpit before the Speaker's desk, demanding firmly to be heard--sofirmly that Mr. Harper, with a glance at him, sits down again; so firmlythat Mr. Speaker Doby, hypnotized by an eye, makes the blunder that willeventually cost him his own head?

"The gentleman from Leith, Mr. Crewe. "

As though sensing a drama, the mutterings were hushed once more. Mr. Jacob Botcher leaned forward, and cracked his seat; but none, even thosewho had tasted of his hospitality, recognized that the Black Knight hadentered the lists--the greatest deeds of this world, and the heroes ofthem, coming unheralded out of the plain clay. Mr. Crewe was the calmestman under the roof as he saluted the Speaker, walked up to the clerk'sdesk, turned his back to it, and leaned both elbows on it; and heregarded the sea of faces with the identical self-possession he hadexhibited when he had made his famous address on national affairs. He didnot raise his voice at the beginning, but his very presence seemed tocompel silence, and curiosity was at fever heat. What was he going tosay?

"Gentlemen of the House, " said Mr. Crewe, "I have listened to thegentleman from Putnam with some--amusement. He has made the statementthat he and his committee are giving to the Pingsquit bill and othermeasures--some other measures--their undivided attention. Of this I haveno doubt whatever. He neglected to define the species of attention he isgiving them--I should define it as the kindly care which the warden of apenitentiary bestows upon his charges. "

Mr. Crewe was interrupted here. The submerged four hundred and seventyhad had time to rub their eyes and get their breath, to realize thattheir champion had dealt Mr. Bascom a blow to cleave his helm, and a roarof mingled laughter and exultation arose in the back seats, and there wasmore craning to see the glittering eyes of the Honourable Brush and theexpressions of his two companions-in-arms. Mr. Speaker Doby beat thestone with his gavel, while Mr. Crewe continued to lean back calmly untilthe noise was over. 

"Gentlemen, " he went on, "I will enter at the proper time into asituation--known, I believe, to most of you--that brings about acondition of affairs by which the gentleman's committee, or the gentlemanhimself, with his capacious pockets, does not have to account to theHouse for every bill assigned to him by the Speaker. I have taken thetrouble to examine a little into the gentleman's past record--he has beenchairman of such committees for years past, and I find no trace thatbills inimical to certain great interests have ever been reported back byhim. The Pingsquit bill involves the vital principle of competition. Ihave read it with considerable care and believe it to be, in itself, agood measure, which deserves a fair hearing. I have had no conversationwhatever with those who are said to be its promoters. If the bill is topass, it has little enough time to get to the Senate. By the gentlemanfrom Putnam's own statement his committee have given it its share ofattention, and I believe this House is entitled to know the verdict, isentitled to accept or reject a report. I hope the motion will prevail. "

He sat down amidst a storm of applause which would have turned the headof a lesser man. No such personal ovation had been seen in the House foryears. How the Speaker got order; how the Honourable Brush Bascomdeclared that Mr. Crewe would be called upon to prove his statements; howMr. Botcher regretted that a new member of such promise should go off athalf-cock; how Mr. Ridout hinted that the new member might think he hadan animus; how Mr. Terry of Lee and Mr. Widgeon of Hull denounced, inplain hill language, the Northeastern Railroads and lauded the man ofprominence who had the grit to oppose them, need not be gone into. Mr. Crewe at length demanded the previous question, which was carried, andthe motion was carried, too, two hundred and fifty to one hundred andfifty-two. The House adjourned. 

We will spare the blushes of the hero of this occasion, who wasthreatened with suffocation by an inundation from the back seats. Inanswer to the congratulations and queries, he replied modestly thatnobody else seemed to have had the sand to do it, so he did it himself. He regarded it as a matter of duty, however unpleasant and unforeseen;and if, as they said, he had been a pioneer, education and a knowledge ofrailroads and the world had helped him. Whereupon, adding tactfully thathe desired the evening to himself to prepare for the battle of the morrow(of which he foresaw he was to bear the burden), he extricated himselffrom his admirers and made his way unostentatiously out of a side doorinto his sleigh. For the man who had kindled a fire--the blaze of whichwas to mark an epoch--he was exceptionally calm. Not so the only visitorwhom Waters had instructions to admit that evening. 

"Say, you hit it just right, " cried the visitor, too exultant to take offhis overcoat. "I've been down through the Pelican, and there ain't beensuch excitement since Snow and Giddings had the fight for United Statessenator in the '80's. The place is all torn up, and you can't get a roomthere for love or money. They tell me they've been havin' conferencessteady in Number Seven since the session closed, and Hilary Vane's sentfor all the Federal and State office-holders to be here in the morningand lobby. Botcher and Jane and Bascom are circulatin' like hot water, tellin' everybody that because they wouldn't saddle the State with a debtwith your bills you turned sour on 'em, and that you're more of acorporation and railroad man than any of 'em. They've got their machineto working a thousand to the minute, and everybody they have a slant onis going into line. One of them fellers, a conductor, told me he had togo with 'em. But our boys ain't idle, I can tell you that. I was in theback of the gallery when you spoke up, and I shook 'em off the leashright away. "

Mr. Crewe leaned back from the table and thrust his hands in his pocketsand smiled. He was in one of his delightful moods. 

"Take off your overcoat, Tooting, " he said; "you'll find one of my bestpolitical cigars over there, in the usual place. "

"Well, I guessed about right, didn't I?" inquired Mr. Tooting, biting offone of the political cigars. "I gave you a pretty straight tip, didn't I, that young Tom Gaylord was goin' to have somebody make that motionto-day? But say, it's funny he couldn't get a better one than that fellerHarper. If you hadn't come along, they'd have smashed him to pulp. I'llbet the most surprised man in the State to-night, next to Brush Bascom, is young Tom Gaylord. It's a wonder he ain't been up here to thank you. "

"Maybe he has been, " replied Mr. Crewe. "I told Waters to keep everybodyout to-night because I want to know exactly what I'm going to say on thefloor tomorrow. I don't want 'em to give me trouble. Did you bring someof those papers with you?"

Mr. Tooting fished a bundle from his overcoat pocket. The papers inquestion, of which he had a great number stored away in Ripton, represented the foresight, on Mr. Tooting's part, of years. He was ayoung man with a praiseworthy ambition to get on in the world, and duringhis apprenticeship in the office of the Honourable Hilary Vane manyletters and documents had passed through his hands. A less industriousperson would have neglected the opportunity. Mr. Tooting copied them; andsome, which would have gone into the waste-basket, he laid carefullyaside, bearing in mind the adage about little scraps of paper--if thereis one. At any rate, he now had a manuscript collection which was uniquein its way, which would have been worth much to a great many men, andwith characteristic generosity he was placing it at the disposal of Mr. Crewe. 

Mr. Crewe, in reading them, had other sensations. He warmed withindignation as an American citizen that a man should sit in a mahoganyoffice in New York and dictate the government of a free and sovereignState; and he found himself in the grip of a righteous wrath when herecalled what Mr. Flint had written to him. "As a neighbour, it will giveme the greatest pleasure to help you to the extent of my power, but theNortheastern Railroads cannot interfere in legislative or politicalmatters. " The effrontery of it was appalling! Where, he demanded of Mr. Tooting, did the common people come in? And this extremely pertinentquestion Mr. Tooting was unable to answer. 

But the wheels of justice had begun to turn. 

Mr. Tooting had not exaggerated the tumult and affright at the PelicanHotel. The private telephone in Number Seven was busy all evening, whilemore or less prominent gentlemen were using continually the public onesin the boxes in the reading room downstairs. The Feudal system wasshowing what it could do, and the word had gone out to all the holders offiefs that the vassals should be summoned. The Duke of Putnam had sentout a general call to the office-holders in that county. Theirs not toreason why--but obey; and some of them, late as was the hour, werealready travelling (free) towards the capital. Even the congressionaldelegation in Washington had received telegrams, and sent them again toFederal office-holders in various parts of the State. If Mr. Crewe hadchosen to listen, he could have heard the tramp of armed men. But he wasnot of the metal to be dismayed by the prospect of a great conflict. Hewas as cool as Cromwell, and after Mr. Tooting had left him to takecharge once more of his own armies in the yield, the genlemon from Leithwent to bed and slept soundly. 

The day of the battle dawned darkly, with great flakes flying. As earlyas seven o'clock the later cohorts began to arrive, and were soon asthick as bees in the Pelican, circulating in the lobby, conferring invarious rooms of which they had the numbers with occupants in bed andout. A wonderful organization, that Feudal System, which could mobilizean army overnight! And each unit of it, like the bee, working unselfishlyfor the good of the whole; like the bee, flying straight for the objectto be attained. Every member of the House from Putnam County, forinstance, was seen by one of these indefatigable captains, and if themember had a mortgage or an ambition, or a wife and family that made lifea problem, or a situation on the railroad or in some of the largermanufacturing establishments, let him beware! If he lived in lodgings inthe town, he stuck his head out of the window to perceive a cheeryneighbour from the country on his doorstep. Think of a system which coulddo this, not for Putnam County alone, but for all the counties in theState!

The Honourable Hilary Vane, captain-general of the Forces, had had butfour hours' sleep, and his Excellency, the Honourable Asa Gray, when hearose in the twilight of the morning, had to step carefully to avoid thecigar butts on the floor which--like so many empty cartridge shells wereunpleasant reminders that a rebellion of no mean magnitude had arisenagainst the power to which he owed allegiance, and by the favour of whichhe was attended with pomp and circumstance wherever he chose to go. 

Long before eleven o'clock the paths to the state-house were throngedwith people. Beside the office-holders and their friends who were intown, there were many residents of the capital city in the habit of goingto hear the livelier debates. Not that the powers of the Empire hadpermitted debates on most subjects, but there could be no harm inallowing the lower House to discuss as fiercely as they pleased dog andsheep laws and hedgehog bounties. But now! The oldest resident couldn'tremember a case of high treason and rebellion against the Northeasternsuch as this promised to be, and the sensation took on an added flavourfrom the fact that the arch rebel was a figure of picturesque interest, amillionaire with money enough to rent the Duncan house and fill itslong-disused stable with horses, who was a capitalist himself and afriend of Mr. Flint's; of whom it was said that he was going to marry Mr. Flint's daughter!

Long before eleven, too, the chiefs over tens and the chiefs overhundreds had gathered their men and marched them into the state-house;and Mr. Tooting, who was everywhere that morning, noticed that some ofthese led soldiers had pieces of paper in their hands. The chaplain aroseto pray for guidance, and the House was crowded to its capacity, and thegallery filled with eager and expectant faces--but the hero of the hourhad not yet arrived. When at length he did walk down the aisle, asunconcernedly as though he were an unknown man entering a theatre, feminine whispers of "There he is!" could plainly be heard above thebuzz, and simultaneous applause broke out in spots, causing the Speakerto rap sharply with his gavel. Poor Mr. Speaker Doby! He looked more likethe mock-turtle than ever! and might have exclaimed, too, that once hehad been a real turtle: only yesterday, in fact, before he had made theinconceivable blunder of recognizing Mr. Humphrey Crewe. Mr. Speaker Dobyhad spent a part of the night in room Number Seven listening to thingsabout himself. Herminius the unspeakable has given the enemy a footholdin Rome. 

Apparently unaware that he was the centre of interest, Mr. Crewe, carrying a neat little bag full of papers, took his seat beside theHonourable Jacob Botcher, nodding to that erstwhile friend as a man ofthe world should. And Mr. Botcher, not to be outdone, nodded back. 

We shall skip over the painful interval that elapsed before the bill inquestion was reached: painful, at least, for every one but Mr. Crewe, whosat with his knees crossed and his arms folded. The hosts were facingeach other, awaiting the word; the rebels prayerfully watching theirgallant leader; and the loyal vassals--whose wavering ranks had beenadded to overnight--with their eyes on Mr. Bascom. And in justice to thatveteran it must be said, despite the knock-out blow he had received, thathe seemed as debonair as ever. 

 "Now while the three were tightening The harness on their backs. "

Mr. Speaker Doby read many committee reports, and at the beginning ofeach there was a stir of expectation that it might be the signal forbattle. But at length he fumbled among his papers, cleared away the lumpin his throat, and glanced significantly at Mr. Bascom. 

"The Committee on Incorporations, to whom was referred House bill number302, entitled "An act to incorporate the Pingsquit Railroad, " havingconsidered the same, report the same with the following resolution:'Resolved, that it is inexpedient to legislate. Brush Bascom, for theCommittee. ' Gentlemen, are you ready for the question? As many as are ofopinion that the report of the Committee should be adopted--the gentlemanfrom Putnam, Mr. Bascom. "

Again let us do exact justice, and let us not be led by our feelings togive a prejudiced account of this struggle. The Honourable Brush Bascom, skilled from youth in the use of weapons, opened the combat so adroitlythat more than once the followers of his noble opponent winced andtrembled. The bill, Mr. Bascom said, would have been reported that day, anyway--a statement received with mingled cheers and jeers. Then followeda brief and somewhat intimate history of the Gaylord Lumber Company, notat all flattering to that corporation. Mr. Bascom hinted, at an animus:there was no more need for a railroad in the Pingsquit Valley than therewas for a merry-go-round in the cellar of the state-house. (Loud laughterfrom everybody, some irreverent person crying out that a merry-go-roundwas better than poker tables. ) When Mr. Bascom came to discuss thegentleman from Leith, and recited the names of the committees for whichMr. Crewe--in his desire to be of service to the State had applied, therewas more laughter, even amongst Mr. Crewe's friends, and Mr. Speaker Dobyrelaxed so far as to smile sadly. Mr. Bascom laid his watch on theclerk's desk and began to read the list of bills Mr. Crewe hadintroduced, and as this reading proceeded some of the light-minded showeda tendency to become slightly hysterical. Mr. Bascom said that he wouldlike to see all those bills grow into laws, --with certain slightchanges, --but that he could not conscientiously vote to saddle the peoplewith another Civil War debt. It was well for the State, he hinted, thatthose committees were composed of stanch men who would do their duty inall weathers, regardless of demagogues who sought to gratify inordinateambitions. 

The hope of the revolutionists bore these strokes and others as mightywith complacency, as though they had been so many playful taps; and whilethe battle surged hotly around him he sat calmly listening or makingoccasional notes with a gold pencil. Born leader that he was, he wasbiding his time. Mr. Bascom's attack was met valiantly, but unskillfully, from the back seats. The Honourable Jacob Botcher arose, and filled thehall with extracts from the "Book of Arguments"--in which he had beencoached overnight by the Honourable Hilary Vane. Mr. Botcher's tonetowards his erstwhile friend was regretful, --a good man gone wrongthrough impulse and inexperience. "I am, sir, " said Mr. Bascom to theSpeaker, "sincerely sorry--sincerely sorry that an individual of suchability as the member from Leith should be led, by the representations ofpolitical adventurers and brigands and malcontents, into his presentdeplorable position of criticising a State which is his only by adoption, the political conditions of which were as sound and as free fromcorporate domination, sir, as those of any State in the broad Union. "(Loud cheers. ) This appeal to State pride by Mr. Botches is a masterstroke, and the friends of the champion of the liberties of the peopleare beginning (some of them) to be a little nervous and doubtful. 

Following Mr. Botches were wild and scattering speeches from the backbenches--unskillful and pitiable counter-strokes. Where was the champion?Had he been tampered with overnight, and persuaded of the futility ofrebellion? Persuaded that his head would be more useful on his own neckin the councils of the nation than on exhibition to the populace from thepoint of a pike? It looks, to a calm spectator from the gallery, asthough the rebel forces are growing weaker and more demoralized everymoment. Mr. Redbrook's speech, vehement and honest, helps a little;people listen to an honest and forceful man, however he may lacktechnical knowledge, but the majority of the replies are mere incoherentdenunciations of the Northeastern Railroads. 

On the other hand, the astounding discipline amongst the legions of theEmpire excites the admiration and despair even of their enemies; there isno random fighting here and breaking of ranks to do useless hacking. Agrave farmer with a beard delivers a short and temperate speech (which hehas by heart), mildly inquiring what the State would do without theNortheastern Railroads; and the very moderation of this query coming froma plain and hard-headed agriculturist (the boss of Grenville, if one butknew it!) has a telling effect. And then to cap the climax, to make theattitude of the rebels even more ridiculous in the minds of thinkingpeople, Mr. Ridout is given the floor. Skilled in debate when he choosesto enter it, his knowledge of the law only exceeded by his knowledge ofhow it is to be evaded--to Lartius is assigned the task of following upthe rout. And Mr. Crewe has ceased taking notes. 

When the House leader and attorney for the Northeastern took his seat, the victory to all appearances was won. It was a victory for conservatismand established order against sensationalism and anarchy--Mr. Ridout hadcontrived to make that clear without actually saying so. It was as if theUte Indians had sought to capture Washington and conduct the government. Just as ridiculous as that! The debate seemed to be exhausted, and thelong-suffering Mr. Doby was inquiring for the fiftieth time if the Housewere ready for the question, when Mr. Crewe of Leith arose and wasrecognized. In three months he had acquired such a remarkable knowledgeof the game of parliamentary tactics as to be able, patiently, to waituntil the bolt of his opponents had been shot; and a glance sufficed torevive the drooping spirits of his followers, and to assure them thattheir leader knew what he was about. 

"Mr. Speaker, " he said, "I have listened with great care to the masterlydefence of that corporation on which our material prosperity and civicwelfare is founded (laughter); I have listened to the gentleman's learneddiscussion of the finances of that road, tending to prove that it is aneleemosynary institution on a grand scale. I do not wish to questionunduly the intellects of those members of this House who by their voteswill prove that they have been convinced by the gentleman's argument. "Here Mr. Crewe paused and drew a slip of paper from his pocket andsurveyed the back seats. "But I perceive, " he continued, "that a greatinterest has been taken in this debate--so great an interest that sinceyesterday numbers of gentlemen have come in from various parts of theState to listen to it (laughter and astonishment), gentlemen who holdFederal and State offices. (Renewed laughter and searching of the House. )I repeat, Mr. Speaker, that I do not wish to question the intellects ofmy fellow-members, but I notice that many of them who are seated near theFederal and State office-holders in question have in their hands slips ofpaper similar to this. And I have reason to believe that these slips werewritten by somebody in room Number Seven of the Pelican Hotel. "(Tremendous commotion, and craning to see whether one's neighbour has aslip. The, faces of the redoubtable three a study. )

"I procured one of these slips, " Mr. Crewe continued, "through afellow-member who has no use for it--whose intelligence, in fact, isunderrated by the gentlemen in Number Seven. I will read the slip. 

"'Vote yes on the question. Yes means that the report of the Committeewill be accepted, and that the Pingsquit bill will not pass. Wait forBascom's signal, and destroy this paper. "'

There was no need, indeed, for Mr. Crewe to say any more than that--noneed for the admirable discussion of railroad finance from an expert'sstandpoint which followed to controvert Mr. Ridout's misleadingstatements. The reading of the words on the slip of paper of which he hadso mysteriously got possession (through Mr. Hamilton Tooting) wassufficient to bring about a disorder that for a full minute--Mr. SpeakerDoby found it impossible to quell. The gallery shook with laughter, andhonourable members with slips of paper in their hands were made asconspicuous as if they had been caught wearing dunces' caps. 

It was then only, with belated wisdom, that Mr. Bascom and his two noblecompanions gave up the fight, and let the horde across the bridge--toolate, as we shall see. The populace, led by a redoubtable leader, havelearned their strength. It is true that the shining senatorial twenty ofthe body-guard stand ready to be hacked to pieces at their posts beforethe Pingsquit bill shall become a law; and should unutterable treasontake place here, his Excellency is prepared to be drawn and quarteredrather than sign it. It is the Senate which, in this somewhat inaccuraterepetition of history, hold the citadel if not the bridge; and in spiteof the howling mob below their windows, scornfully refuse even to discussthe Pingsquit bill. The Honourable Hilary Vane, whose face they study atdinner time, is not worried. Popular wrath does not continue to boil, andmany changes will take place in the year before the Legislature meetsagain. 

This is the Honourable Hilary's public face. But are there not privateconferences in room Number Seven of which we can know nothing--exceedingly uncomfortable conferences for Horatius and his companions?Are there not private telegrams and letters to the president of theNortheastern in New York advising him that the Pingsquit bill has passedthe House, and that a certain Mr. Crewe is primarily responsible? And arethere not queries--which history may disclose in after years--as towhether Mr. Crewe's abilities as a statesman have not been seriouslyunderrated by those who should have been the first to perceive them?Verily, pride goeth before a fall. 

In this modern version of ours, the fathers throng about another thanHoratius after the session of that memorable morning. Publicly andprivately, Mr. Crewe is being congratulated, and we know enough of hischaracter to appreciate the modesty with which the congratulations areaccepted. He is the same Humphrey Crewe that he was before he became thecorner-stone of the temple; success is a mere outward and visible sign ofintrinsic worth in the inner man, and Mr. Crewe had never for a momentunderestimated his true value. 

"There's, no use wasting time in talking about it, " he told the gratefulmembers who sought to press his hands. "Go home and organize. I've gotyour name. Get your neighbours into line, and keep me informed. I'll payfor the postage-stamps. I'm no impractical reformer, and if we're goingto do this thing, we'll have to do it right. "

They left him, impressed by the force of this argument, with an addedrespect for Mr. Crewe, and a vague feeling that they were pledged tosomething which made not a few of them a trifle uneasy. Mr. Redbrook wasone of these. 

The felicitations of his new-found friend and convert, Mr. Tooting, Mr. Crewe cut short with the terseness of a born commander. 

"Never mind that, " he said, "and follow 'em up and get 'em pledged if youcan. "

Get 'em pledged! Pledged to what? Mr. Tooting evidently knew, for hewasted no precious moments in asking questions. 

There is no time at this place to go into the feelings of Mr. Tom Gaylordthe younger when he learned that his bill had passed the House. He, too, meeting Mr. Crewe in the square, took the opportunity to express hisgratitude to the member from Leith. 

"Come in on Friday afternoon, Gaylord, " answered Mr. Crewe. "I've gotseveral things to talk to you about. Your general acquaintance around theState will be useful, and there must be men you know of in the lumbersections who can help us considerably. "

"Help us?" repeated young Tom, in same surprise. 

"Certainly, " replied Mr. Crewe; "you don't think we're going to drop thefight here, do you? We've got to put a stop in this State to politicaldomination by a railroad, and as long as there doesn't seem to be anyoneelse to take hold, I'm going to. Your bill's a good bill, and we'll passit next session. "

Young Tom regarded Mr. Crewe with a frank stare. 

"I'm going up to the Pingsquit Valley on Friday, " he answered. 

"Then you'd better come up to Leith to see me as soon as you get back, "said Mr. Crewe. "These things can't wait, and have to be dealt withpractically. "

Young Tom had not been the virtual head of the Gaylord Company for someyears without gaining a little knowledge of politics and humanity. Theinvitation to Leith he valued, of course, but he felt that it would notdo to accept it with too much ardour. He was, he said, a very busy man. 

"That's the trouble with most people, " declared Mr. Crewe; "they won'ttake the time to bother about politics, and then they complain whenthings don't go right. Now I'm givin' my time to it, when I've got otherlarge interests to attend to. "

On his way back to the Pelican, young Tom halted several timesreflectively, as certain points in this conversation which he seemed tohave missed at the time--came back to him. His gratitude to Mr. Crewe asa public benefactor was profound, of course; but young Tom's sense ofhumour was peculiar, and he laughed more than once, out loud, at nothingat all. Then he became grave again, and went into the hotel and wrote along letter, which he addressed to Mr. Austen Vane. 

And now, before this chapter which contains these memorable events isclosed, one more strange and significant fact is to be chronicled. On theevening of the day which saw Mr. Crewe triumphantly leading the insurgentforces to victory, that gentleman sent his private secretary to theoffice of the State Tribune to leave an order for fifty copies of thepaper to be delivered in the morning. Morning came, and the fifty copies, and Mr. Crewe's personal copy in addition, were handed to him by thefaithful Waters when he entered his dining room at an early hour. Life isfull of disillusions. Could this be the State Tribune he held in hishand? The State Tribune of Mr. Peter Pardriff, who had stood so staunchlyfor Mr. Crewe and better things? Who had hitherto held the words of theLeith statesman in such golden estimate as to curtail advertising columnswhen it was necessary to print them for the public good?

Mr. Crewe's eye travelled from column to column, from page to page, invain. By some incredible oversight on the part of Mr. Pardriff, theringing words were not there, --nay, the soul-stirring events of thateventful day appeared, on closer inspection, to have been deliberatelyedited out! The terrible indignation of the righteous arose as Mr. Creweread (in the legislative proceedings of the day before) that thePingsquit bill had been discussed by certain members--of whom he was one--and passed. This was all--literally all! If Mr. Pardriff had lived inthe eighteenth century, he would probably have referred as casually tothe Boston massacre as a street fight--which it was. 

Profoundly disgusted with human kind, --as the noblest of us will be attimes, --Mr. Crewe flung down the paper, and actually forgot to send thefifty copies to his friends!

CHAPTER XV

THE DISTURBANCE OF JUNE SEVENTH

After Mr. Speaker Doby had got his gold watch from an admiring andapparently reunited House, and had wept over it, the Legislatureadjourned. This was about the first of April, that sloppiest and windiestof months in a northern climate, and Mr. Crewe had intended, as usual, tomake a little trip southward to a club of which he was a member. A senseof duty, instead, took him to Leith, where he sat through the days in hisstudy, dictating letters, poring over a great map of the State which hehad hung on the wall, and scanning long printed lists. If we could standbehind him, we should see that these are what are known as check-lists, or rosters of the voters in various towns. 

Mr. Crewe also has an unusual number of visitors for this muddy weather, when the snow-water is making brooks of the roads. Interested observers--if there were any--might have remarked that his friendship with Mr. Hamilton Tooting had increased, that gentleman coming up from Ripton atleast twice a week, and aiding Mr. Crewe to multiply his acquaintances bybringing numerous strangers to see him. Mr. Tooting, as we know, hadabandoned the law office of the Honourable Hilary Vane and was nowengaged in travelling over the State, apparently in search of health. These were signs, surely, which the wise might have read with profit: inthe offices, for instance, of the Honourable Hilary Vane in RiptonSquare, where seismic disturbances were registered; but the movement ofthe needle (to the Honourable Hilary's eye) was almost imperceptible. What observer, however experienced, would have believed that suchdelicate tracings could herald a volcanic eruption?

Throughout the month of April the needle kept up its persistentregistering, and the Honourable Hilary continued to smile. The HonourableJacob Botcher, who had made a trip to Ripton and had cited that verydecided earthquake shock of the Pingsquit bill, had been ridiculed forhis pains, and had gone away again comforted by communion with a strongman. The Honourable Jacob had felt little shocks in his fief: Mr. Tootinghad visited it, sitting with his feet on the tables of hotelwaiting-rooms, holding private intercourse with gentlemen who had beendisappointed in office. Mr. Tooting had likewise been a sojourner in thedomain of the Duke of Putnam. But the Honourable Brush was not troubled, and had presented Mr. Tooting with a cigar. 

In spite of the strange omission of the State Tribune to print his speechand to give his victory in the matter of the Pingsquit bill properrecognition, Mr. Crewe was too big a man to stop his subscription to thepaper. Conscious that he had done his duty in that matter, neitherpraise nor blame could affect him; and although he had not been mentionedsince, he read it assiduously every afternoon upon its arrival at Leith, feeling confident that Mr. Peter Pardriff (who had always in privateconversation proclaimed himself emphatically for reform) would noteventually refuse--to a prophet--public recognition. One afternoontowards the end of that month of April, when the sun had made the lastsnow-drift into a pool, Mr. Crewe settled himself on his south porch andopened the State Tribune, and his heart gave a bound as his eye fell uponthe following heading to the leading editorial:--

 A WORTHY PUBLIC SERVANT FOR GOVERNOR

Had his reward come at last? Had Mr. Peter Pardriff seen the error of hisway? Mr. Crewe leisurely folded back the sheet, and called to hissecretary, who was never far distant. 

"Look here, " he said, "I guess Pardriff's recovered his senses. Lookhere!"

The tired secretary, ready with his pencil and notebook to order fiftycopies, responded, staring over his employer's shoulder. It has been saidof men in battle that they have been shot and have run forward somehundred feet without knowing what has happened to them. And so Mr. Crewegot five or six lines into that editorial before he realized in full thebaseness of Mr. Pardriff's treachery. 

"These are times" (so ran Mr. Pardriff's composition) "when the sure andsteadying hand of a strong man is needed at the helm of State. A man ofconservative, business habits of mind; a man who weighs the value oftraditions equally with the just demands of a new era; a man with aknowledge of public affairs derived from long experience;" (!!!) "a manwho has never sought office, but has held it by the will of the people, and who himself is a proof that the conduct of State institutions in thepast has been just and equitable. One who has served with distinctionupon such boards as the Railroad Commission, the Board of Equalization, etc. , etc. " (!!!) "A stanch Republican, one who puts party before--" herethe newspaper began to shake a little, and Mr. Crewe could not for themoment see whether the next word were place or principle. He skipped afew lines. The Tribune, it appeared, had a scintillating idea, whichsurely must have occurred to others in the State. "Why not the HonourableAdam B. Hunt of Edmundton for the next governor?"

The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton!

It is a pleasure to record, at this crisis, that Mr. Crewe fixed upon hissecretary as steady an eye as though Mr. Pardriff's bullet had missed itsmark. 

"Get me, " he said coolly, "the 'State Encyclopaedia of Prominent Men. '"(Just printed. Fogarty and Co. , Newcastle, publishers. )

The secretary fetched it, open at the handsome and lifelikesteel-engraving of the Honourable Adam, with his broad forehead andkindly, twinkling eyes, and the tuft of beard on his chin; with his amplestatesman's coat in natural creases, and his white shirt-front and littleblack tie. Mr. Crewe gazed at this work of art long and earnestly. TheHonourable Adam B. Hunt did not in the least have the appearance of abolt from the blue. And then Mr. Crewe read his biography. 

Two things he shrewdly noted about that biography; it was placed, out ofalphabetical order, fourth in the book, and it was longer than any otherwith one exception that of Mr. Ridout, the capital lawyer. Mr. Ridout'splace was second in this invaluable volume, he being preceded only by aharmless patriarch. These facts were laid before Mr. Tooting, who wasdirected by telephone to come to Leith as soon as he should arrive inRipton from his latest excursion. It was nine o'clock at night when thatlong-suffering and mud-bespattered individual put in an appearance at thedoor of his friend's study. 

"Because I didn't get on to it, " answered Mr. Tooting, in response to areproach for not having registered a warning--for he was Mr. Crewe'sseismograph. "I knew old Adam was on the Railroads' governor's bench, butI hadn't any notion he'd been moved up to the top of the batting list. Itold you right. Ridout was going to be their next governor if you hadn'tsinged him with the Pingsquit bill. This was done pretty slick, wasn'tit? Hilary got back from New York day before yesterday, and Pardriff hasthe editorial to-day. Say, I always told you Pardriff wasn't a reformer, didn't I?"

Mr. Crewe looked pained. 

"I prefer to believe the best of people until I know the worst, " he said. "I did not think Mr. Pardriff capable of ingratitude. "

What Mr. Crewe meant by this remark is enigmatical. 

"He ain't, " replied Mr. Tooting, "he's grateful for that red ticket hecarries around with him when he travels, and he's grateful to theHonourable Adam B. Hunt for favours to come. Peter Pardriff's a gratefulcuss, all-right, all right. "

Mr. Crewe tapped his fingers on the desk thoughtfully. 

"The need of a reform campaign is more apparent than ever, " he remarked. 

Mr. Tooting put his tongue in his cheek; and, seeing a dreamy expressionon his friend's face, accidentally helped himself to a cigar out of thewrong box. 

"It's up to a man with a sense of duty and money to make it, " Mr. Tootingagreed, taking a long pull at the Havana. 

"As for the money, " replied Mr. Crewe, "the good citizens of the Stateshould be willing to contribute largely. I have had a list of men ofmeans prepared, who will receive notices at the proper time. "

Mr. Hamilton Tooting spread out his feet, and appeared to be studyingthem carefully. 

"It's funny you should have mentioned cash, " he said, after a moment'ssilence, "and it's tough on you to have to be the public-spirited man toput it up at the start. I've got a little memorandum here, " he added, fumbling apologetically in his pocket; "it certainly costs something tomove the boys around and keep 'em indignant. "

Mr. Tooting put the paper on the edge of the desk, and Mr. Crewe, withoutlooking, reached out his hand for it, the pained expression returning tohis face. 

"Tooting, " he said, "you've got a very flippant way of speaking ofserious things. It strikes me that these expenses are out of allproportion to the simplicity of the task involved. It strikes me--ahemthat you might find, in some quarters at least, a freer response to amovement founded on principle. "

"That's right, " declared Mr. Tooting, "I've thought so myself. I've gotmad, and told 'em so to their faces. But you've said yourself, Mr. Crewe, that we've got to deal with this thing practically. "

"Certainly, " Mr. Crewe interrupted. He loved the word. 

"And we've got to get workers, haven't we? And it costs money to move 'emround, don't it? We haven't got a bushel basket of passes. Look here, "and he pushed another paper at Mr. Crewe, "here's ten new ones who'vemade up their minds that you're the finest man in the State. That makestwenty. "

Mr. Crewe took that paper deprecatingly, but nevertheless began a fire ofcross-questions on Mr. Tooting as to the personality, habits, andoccupations of the discerning ten in question, making certain littlemarks of his own against each name. Thus it will be seen that Mr. Creweknew perfectly what he was about--although no one else did except Mr. Tooting, who merely looked mysterious when questioned on the streets ofRipton or Newcastle or Kingston. It was generally supposed, however, thatthe gentleman from Leith was going to run for the State Senate, and wasattempting to get a following in other counties, in order to push throughhis measures next time. Hence the tiny fluctuations of Hilary Vane'sseismograph an instrument, as will be shown, utterly out-of-date. Not sothe motto toujours l'audace. Geniuses continue (at long intervals) to beborn, and to live up to that motto. 

That seismograph of the Honourable Hilary's persisted in tracing only aslightly ragged line throughout the beautiful month of May, in whichfavourable season the campaign of the Honourable Adam B. Hunt took rootand flourished--apparently from the seed planted by the State Tribune. The ground, as usual, had been carefully prepared, and trained gardenersraked, and watered, and weeded the patch. It had been decreed andcountersigned that the Honourable Adam B. Hunt was the flower that was togrow this year. 

There must be something vitally wrong with an instrument which failed toregister the great earthquake shock of June the seventh!

Now that we have come to the point where this shock is to be recorded onthese pages, we begin to doubt whether our own pen will be ableadequately to register it, and whether the sheet is long enough and broadenough upon which to portray the relative importance of the disturbancecreated. The trouble is, that there is nothing to measure it by. Whatother event in the history of the State produced the vexation of spirit, the anger, the tears, the profanity; the derision, the laughter of fools, the contempt; the hope, the glee, the prayers, the awe, the dumbamazement at the superb courage of this act? No, for a just comparison weshall have to reach back to history and fable: David and Goliath; Theseusand the Minotaur; or, better still, Cadmus and the Dragon! It was Cadmus(if we remember rightly) who wasted no time whatever, but actually jumpeddown the dragon's throat and cut him up from the inside! And it wasCadmus, likewise, who afterwards sowed the dragon's teeth. 

That wondrous clear and fresh summer morning of June the seventh will notbe forgotten for many years. The trees were in their early leaf in RiptonSquare, and the dark pine patches on Sawanec looked (from Austen's littleoffice) like cloud shadows against the shimmer of the tender green. Hesat at his table, which was covered with open law-books and papers, buthis eyes were on the distant mountain, and every scent-laden breezewafted in at his open window seemed the bearer of a tremulous, wistful, yet imperious message--"Come!" Throughout the changing seasons Sawaneccalled to him in words of love: sometimes her face was hidden by cloudand fog and yet he heard her voice! Sometimes her perfume as to-day--madehim dream; sometimes, when the western heavens were flooded with thegolden light of the infinite, she veiled herself in magic purple, when togaze at her was an exquisite agony, and she became as one forbidden toman. Though his soul cried out to her across the spaces, she was not forhim. She was not for him!

With a sigh he turned to his law-books again, and sat for a while staringsteadfastly at a section of the 'Act of Consolidation of the NortheasternRailroads' which he had stumbled on that morning. The section, if he readits meaning aright, was fraught with the gravest consequences for theNortheastern Railroads; if he read its meaning aright, the NortheasternRailroads had been violating it persistently for many years and wereliable for unknown sums in damages. The discovery of it had dazed him, and the consequences resulting from a successful suit under the sectionwould be so great that he had searched diligently, though in vain, forsome modification of it since its enactment. Why had not some onediscovered it before? This query appeared to be unanswerable, until thesimple--though none the less remarkable--solution came to him, thatperhaps no definite occasion had hitherto arisen for seeking it. Undoubtedly the Railroads' attorneys must know of its existence--his ownfather, Hilary Vane, having been instrumental in drawing up the Act. Anda long period had elapsed under which the Northeastern Railroads had beena law unto themselves. 

The discovery was of grave import to Austen. A month before, chieflythrough the efforts of his friend, Tom, who was gradually taking hisfather's place in the Gaylord Lumber Company, Austen had been appointedjunior counsel for that corporation. The Honourable Galusha Hammer stillremained the senior counsel, but was now confined in his house atNewcastle by an illness which made the probability of his return toactive life extremely doubtful; and Tom had repeatedly declared that inthe event of his non-recovery Austen should have Mr. Hammer's place. Ascounsel for the Gaylord Lumber Company, it was clearly his duty to callthe attention of young Mr. Gaylord to the section; and in case Mr. Hammerdid not resume his law practice, it would fall upon Austen himself tobring the suit. His opponent in this matter would be his own father. 

The consequences of this culminating conflict between them, the coming ofwhich he had long dreaded--although he had not foreseen its specificcause--weighed heavily upon Austen. It was Tom Gaylord himself whoabruptly aroused him from his revery by bursting in at the door. 

"Have you heard what's up?" he cried, flinging down a newspaper beforeAusten's eyes. "Have you seen the Guardian?"

"What's the matter now, Tom?"

"Matter!" exclaimed Tom; "read that. Your friend and client, theHonourable Humphrey Crewe, is out for governor. "

"Humphrey Crewe for governor!"

"On an anti-railroad platform. I might have known something of the kindwas up when he began to associate with Tooting, and from the way he spoketo me in March. But who'd have thought he'd have the cheek to come outfor governor? Did you ever hear of such tommyrot?"

Austen looked grave. 

"I'm not sure it's such tommyrot, " he said. 

"Not tommyrot?" Tom ejaculated. "Everybody's laughing. When I passed theHonourable Hilary's door just now, Brush Bascom and some of the oldliners were there, reciting parts of the proclamation, and the boys downin the Ripton House are having the time of their lives. "

Austen took the Guardian, and there, sure enough, filling a leadingcolumn, and in a little coarser type than the rest of the page, he read:

 DOWN WITH RAILROAD RULE!

 The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith, at the request of twenty prominent citizens, consents to become a candidate for the Republican Nomination for Governor. 

 Ringing letter of acceptance, in which he denounces the political power of the Northeastern Railroads, and declares that the State is governed from a gilded suite of offices in New Pork. 

"The following letter, evincing as it does a public opinion thoroughlyaroused in all parts of the State against the present disgracefulpolitical conditions, speaks for itself. The standing and character ofits signers give it a status which Republican voters cannot ignore. "

The letter followed. It prayed Mr. Crewe, in the name of decency and goodgovernment, to carry the standard of honest men to victory. Too long hada proud and sovereign State writhed under the heel of an all-devouringcorporation! Too long had the Northeastern Railroads elected, for theirown selfish ends, governors and legislatures and controlled railroadcommissions The spirit of 1776 was abroad in the land. It was eminentlyfitting that the Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith, who had dared tofling down the gauntlet in the face of an arrogant power, should be theleader of the plain people, to recover the rights which had been wrestedfrom them. Had he not given the highest proof that he had the people'sinterests at heart? He was clearly a man who "did things. "

At this point Austen looked up and smiled. 

"Tom, " he asked, "has it struck you that this is written in the sameinimitable style as a part of the message of the Honourable Asa Gray?"

Tom slapped his knee. 

"That's exactly what I said I!" he cried. "Tooting wrote it. I'll swearto it. "

"And the twenty prominent citizens--do you know any of 'em, Tom?"

"Well, " said Tom, in delighted appreciation, "I've heard of three of 'em, and that's more than any man I've met can boast of. Ed Dubois cuts myhair when I go to Kingston. He certainly is a prominent citizen in thefourth ward. Jim Kendall runs the weekly newspaper in Grantley--Iunderstood it was for sale. Bill Clements is prominent enough up atGroveton. He wanted a trolley franchise some years ago, you remember. "

"And didn't get it. "

Mr. Crewe's answer was characteristically terse and businesslike. Theoverwhelming compliment of a request from such gentlemen must be treatedin the nature of a command--and yet he had hesitated for several weeks, during which period he had cast about for another more worthy of thehonour. Then followed a somewhat technical and (to the lay mind) obscurerecapitulation of the iniquities the Northeastern was committing, whichproved beyond peradventure that Mr. Crewe knew what he was talking about;such phrases as "rolling stock, " "milking the road"--an imposing array offacts and figures. Mr. Crewe made it plain that he was a man who "didthings. " And if it were the will of Heaven that he became governor, certain material benefits would as inevitably ensue as the day followsthe night. The list of the material benefits, for which there was acrying need, bore a strong resemblance to a summary of the worthymeasures upon which Mr. Crewe had spent so much time and labour in thelast Legislature. 

Austen laid down the paper, leaned back in his chair, and thrust hishands in his pockets, and with a little vertical pucker in his forehead, regarded his friend. 

"What do you think of that?" Tom demanded. "Now, what do you think ofit?"

"I think, " said Austen, "that he'll scare the life out of theNortheastern before he gets through with them. "

"What!" exclaimed Tom, incredulously. He had always been willing toaccept Austen's judgment on men and affairs, but this was pretty stiff. "What makes you think so?"

"Well, people don't know Mr. Crewe, for one thing. And they are beginningto have a glimmer of light upon the Railroad. "

"Do you mean to say he has a chance for the nomination?"

"I don't know. It depends upon how much the voters find out about himbefore the convention. "

Tom sat down rather heavily. 

"You could have been governor, " he complained reproachfully, "by raisingyour hand. You've got more ability than any man in the State, and you sithere gazin' at that mountain and lettin' a darned fool millionaire walkin ahead of you. "

Austen rose and crossed over to Mr. Gaylord's chair, and, his hands stillin his pockets, looked down thoughtfully into that gentleman's square andrugged face. 

"Tom, " he said, "there's no use discussing this delusion of yours, whichseems to be the only flaw in an otherwise sane character. We must try tokeep it from the world. "

Tom laughed in spite of himself. 

"I'm hanged if I understand you, " he declared, "but I never did. Youthink Crewe and Tooting may carry off the governorship, and you don'tseem to care. "

"I do care, " said Austen, briefly. He went to the window and stood for amoment with his back to his friend, staring across at Sawanec. Tom hadlearned by long experience to respect these moods, although they were tohim inexplicable. At length Austen turned. 

"Tom, " he said, "can you come in to-morrow about this time? If you can't, I'll go to your office if you will let me know when you'll be in. There'sa matter of business I want to talk to you about. "

Tom pulled out his watch. 

"I've got to catch a train for Mercer, " he replied, "but I will come inin the morning and see you. "

A quarter of an hour later Austen went down the narrow wooden flight ofstairs into the street, and as he emerged from the entry almost bumpedinto the figure of a young man that was hurrying by. He reached out andgrasped the young man by the collar, pulling him up so short as almost tochoke him. 

"Hully gee!" cried the young man whose progress had been so rudelyarrested. "Great snakes!" (A cough. ) "What're you tryin' to do? Oh, "(apologetically) "it's you, Aust. Let me go. This day ain't long enoughfor me. Let me go. "

Austen kept his grip and regarded Mr. Tooting thoughtfully. 

"I want to speak to you, Ham, " he said; "better come upstairs. "

"Say, Aust, on the dead, I haven't time. Pardriff's waitin' for some copynow. "

"Just for a minute, Ham, " said Austen; "I won't keep you long. "

"Leggo my collar, then, if you don't want to choke me. Say, I don'tbelieve you know how strong you are. "

"I didn't know you wore a collar any more, Ham, " said Austen. 

Mr. Tooting grinned in appreciation of this joke. 

"You must think you've got one of your Wild West necktie parties on, " hegasped. "I'll come. But if you love me, don't let the boys in Hilary'soffice see me. "

"They use the other entry, " answered Austen, indicating that Mr. Tootingshould go up first--which he did. When they reached the office Austenshut the door, and stood with his back against it, regarding Mr. Tootingthoughtfully. 

At first Mr. Tooting returned the look with interest swagger--aggressionwould be too emphatic, and defiance would not do. His was the air, perhaps, of Talleyrand when he said, "There seems to be an inexplicablesomething in me that brings bad luck to governments that neglect me:" theair of a man who has made a brilliant coup d'etat. All day he had wornthat air--since five o'clock in the morning, when he had sprung from hispallet. The world might now behold the stuff that was in HamiltonTooting. Power flowed out of his right hand from an inexhaustiblereservoir which he had had the sagacity to tap, and men leaped intoaction at his touch. He, the once, neglected, had the destiny of a Statein his keeping. 

Gradually, however, it became for some strange reason difficult tomaintain that aggressive stare upon Austen Vane, who shook his headslowly. 

"Ham, why did you do it?" he asked. 

"Why?" cried Mr. Tooting, fiercely biting back a treasonable smile. "Whynot? Ain't he the best man in the State to make a winner? Hasn't he gotthe money, and the brains, and the get-up-and-git? Why, it's a surething. I've been around the State, and I know the sentiment. We've got'em licked, right now. What have you got against it? You're on our side, Aust. "

"Ham, " said Austen, "are you sure you have the names and addresses ofthose twenty prominent citizens right, so that any voter may go out andfind 'em?"

"What are you kidding about, Aust?" retorted Mr. Tooting, biting back thesmile again. "Say, you never get down to business with me. You don'tblame Crewe for comin' out, do you?"

"I don't see how Mr. Crewe could have resisted such an overwhelmingdemand, " said Austen. "He couldn't shirk such a duty. He says so himself, doesn't he?"

"Oh, go on!" exclaimed Mr. Tooting, who was not able to repress a grin. 

"The letter of the twenty must have been a great surprise to Mr. Crewe. He says he was astonished. Did the whole delegation go up to Leith, oronly a committee?"

Mr. Tooting's grin had by this time spread all over his face--a floodbeyond his control. 

"Well, there's no use puffin' it on with you, Aust. That was done prettyslick, that twenty-prominent-citizen business, if I do say it myself. Butyou don't know that feller Crewe--he's a full-size cyclone when he getsstarted, and nothin' but a range of mountains could stop him. "

"It must be fairly exciting to--ride him, Ham. "

"Say, but it just is. Kind of breathless, though. He ain't very wellknown around the State, and he was bound to run--and I just couldn't lethim come out without any clothes on. "

"I quite appreciate your delicacy, Ham. "

Mr. Tooting's face took on once more a sheepish look, which changedalmost immediately to one of disquietude. 

"Say, I'll come back again some day and kid with you. I've got to go, Aust--that's straight. This is my busy day. "

"Wouldn't you gain some time if you left by the window?" Austen asked. 

At this suggestion Mr. Tooting's expressive countenance showed genuinealarm. 

"Say, you ain't going to put up any Wild West tricks on me, are you? Iheard you nearly flung Tom Gaylord out of the one in the other room. "

"If this were a less civilized place, Ham, I'd initiate you into what isknown as the bullet dance. As it is, I have a great mind to speed you onyour way by assisting you downstairs. "

Mr. Hamilton Tooting became ashy pale. 

"I haven't done anything to you, Aust. Say--you didn't--?" He did notfinish. 

Terrified by something in Austen's eye, which may or may not have beenthere at the time of the Blodgett incident, Mr. Tooting fled withoutcompleting his inquiry. And, his imagination being great, he reproducedfor himself such a vivid sensation of a bullet-hole in his spine that hemissed his footing near the bottom, and measured his length in the entry. Such are the humiliating experiences which sometimes befall theTalleyrands--but rarely creep into their biographies. 

Austen, from the top of the stairway, saw this catastrophe, but did notsmile. He turned on his heel, and made his way slowly around the cornerof the passage into the other part of the building, and paused at theopen doorway of the Honourable Hilary's outer office. By the streetwindows sat the Honourable Brush Bascom, sphinx-like, absorbing wisdomand clouds of cigar smoke which emanated from the Honourable NatBillings. 

"Howdy, Austen?" said Brush, genially, lookin' for the Honourable Hilary?Flint got up from New York this morning, and sent for him a couple ofhours ago. He'll be back at two. "

"Have you read the pronunciamento?" inquired Mr. Billings. "Say, Austen, knowin' your sentiments, I wonder you weren't one of the twenty prominentcitizens. "

"All you anti-railroad fellers ought to get together, " Mr. Bascomsuggested; "you've got us terrified since your friend from Leith turnedthe light of publicity on us this morning. I hear Ham Tooting's been inand made you an offer. "

News travels fast in Ripton. 

"Austen kicked him downstairs, " said Jimmy Towle, the office boy, who hadmade a breathless entrance during the conversation, and felt it to be thepsychological moment to give vent to the news with which he was bursting. 

"Is that straight?" Mr. Billings demanded. He wished he had done ithimself. "Is that straight?" he repeated, but Austen had gone. 

"Of course it's straight, " said Jimmy Towle, vigorously. A shrewdobserver of human nature, he had little respect for Senator Billings. "Ned Johnson saw him pick himself up at the foot of Austen's stairway. "

The Honourable Brush's agate eyes caught the light, and he addressed Mr. Billings in a voice which, by dint of long training, only carried a fewfeet. 

"There's the man the Northeastern's got to look out for, " he said. "TheHumphrey Crewes don't count. But if Austen Vane ever gets started, there'll be trouble. Old man Flint's got some such idea as that, too. Ioverheard him givin' it to old Hilary once, up at Fairview, and Hilarysaid he couldn't control him. I guess nobody else can control him. I wishI'd seen him kick Ham downstairs. "

"I'd like to kick him downstairs, " said Mr. Billings, savagely biting offanother cigar. 

"I guess you hadn't better try it, Nat, " said Mr. Bascom. 

Meanwhile Austen had returned to his own office, and shut the door. Hisluncheon hour came and went, and still he sat by the open window gazingout across the teeming plain, and up the green valley whence the Bluecame singing from the highlands. In spirit he followed the water toLeith, and beyond, where it swung in a wide circle and hurried betweenwondrous hills like those in the backgrounds of the old Italians: hillsof close-cropped pastures, dotted with shapely sentinel oaks and mapleswhich cast sharp, rounded shadows on the slopes at noonday; with thinfantastic elms on the gentle sky-lines, and forests massed here andthere--silent, impenetrable hills from a story-book of a land of mystery. The river coursed between them on its rocky bed, flinging its myriad gemsto the sun. This was the Vale of the Blue, and she had touched it withmeaning for him, and gone. 

He drew from his coat a worn pocket-book, and from the pocket-book aletter. It was dated in New York in February, and though he knew it byheart he found a strange solace in the pain which it gave him to rereadit. He stared at the monogram on the paper, which seemed so emblematic ofher; for he had often reflected that her things--even such minuteinsignia as this--belonged to her. She impressed them not only with hertaste, but with her character. The entwined letters, Y. F. , of the designwere not, he thought, of a meaningless, frivolous daintiness, but stoodfor something. Then he read the note again. It was only a note. 

 "MY DEAR MR. VANE: I have come back to find my mother ill, and I am taking her to France. We are sailing, unexpectedly, to-morrow, there being a difficulty about a passage later. I cannot refrain from sending you a line before I go to tell you that I did you an injustice. You will no doubt think it strange that I should write to you, but I shall be troubled until it is off my mind. I am ashamed to have been so stupid. I think I know now why you would not consent to be a candidate, and I respect you for it. 

 "Sincerely your friend, "VICTORIA FLINT. "

What did she know? What had she found out? Had she seen her father andtalked to him? That was scarcely possible, since her mother had been illand she had left at once. Austen had asked himself these questions manytimes, and was no nearer the solution. He had heard nothing of her since, and he told himself that perhaps it was better, after all, that she wasstill away. To know that she was at Fairview, and not to be able to seeher, were torture indeed. 

The note was formal enough, and at times he pretended to be glad that itwas. How could it be otherwise? And why should he interpret her interestin him in other terms than those in which it was written? She had a warmheart--that he knew; and he felt for her sake that he had no right towish for more than the note expressed. After several unsuccessfulattempts; he had answered it in a line, "I thank you, and I understand. "

CHAPTER XVI

THE "BOOK OF ARGUMENTS" IS OPENED

The Honourable Hilary Vane returned that day from Fairview in no veryequable frame of mind. It is not for us to be present at the Councils onthe Palatine when the "Book of Arguments" is opened, and those fittingthe occasion are chosen and sent out to the faithful who ownprinting-presses and free passes. The Honourable Hilary Vane bore awayfrom the residence of his emperor a great many memoranda in an envelope, and he must have sighed as he drove through the leafy roads for Mr. Hamilton Tooting, with his fertile mind and active body. A year ago, andMr. Tooting would have seized these memoranda of majesty, and coveredtheir margins with new suggestions: Mr. Tooting, on occasions, had evenmade additions to the "Book of Arguments" itself--additions which hadbeen used in New York and other States with telling effect against Mr. Crewes there. Mr. Tooting knew by heart the time of going to press ofevery country newspaper which had passes (in exchange for advertising!). It was two o'clock when the Honourable Hilary reached his office, and bythree all the edicts would have gone forth, and the grape-shot andcanister would have been on their way to demolish the arrogance of thispetty Lord of Leith. . 

"Tooting's a dangerous man, Vane. You oughtn't to have let him go, " Mr. Flint had said. "I don't care a snap of my finger for the other fellow. "

How Mr. Tooting's ears would have burned, and how his blood would havesung with pride to have heard himself called dangerous by the presidentof the Northeastern!

He who, during all the valuable years of his services, had never had asign that that potentate was cognizant of his humble existence. 

The Honourable Brush Bascom, as we know, was a clever man; and althoughit had never been given him to improve on the "Book of Arguments, " he hadideas of his own. On reading Mr. Crewe's defiance that morning, he had, with characteristic promptitude and a desire to be useful, taken thefirst train out of Putnam for Ripton, to range himself by the side of theHonourable Hilary in the hour of need. The Feudal System anticipates, andMr. Bascom did not wait for a telegram. 

On the arrival of the chief counsel from Fairview other captains had putin an appearance, but Mr. Bascom alone was summoned, by a nod, into theprivate office. What passed between them seems too sacred to write about. The Honourable Hilary would take one of the slips from the packet andgive it to Mr. Bascom. 

"If that were recommended, editorially, to the Hull Mercury, it mightserve to clear away certain misconceptions in that section. 

"Certain, " Mr. Bascom would reply. 

"It has been thought wise, " the Honourable Hilary continued, "to send anannual to the Groveton News. Roberts, his name is. Suppose you recommendto Mr. Roberts that an editorial on this subject would be timely. "

Slip number two. Mr. Bascom marks it 'Roberts. ' Subject: "What would theState do without the Railroad?"

"And Grenville, being a Prohibition centre, you might get this worked upfor the Advertiser there. "

Mr. Bascom's agate eyes are full of light as he takes slip number three. Subject: "Mr. Humphrey Crewe has the best-stocked wine cellar in theState, and champagne every night for dinner. " Slip number four, takendirect from the second chapter of the "Book of Arguments": "Mr. Crewe isa reformer because he has been disappointed in his inordinate ambitions, "etc. Slip number five: "Mr. Crewe is a summer resident, with a house inNew York, " etc. , etc. 

Slip number six, "Book of Arguments, " paragraph, chapter: "HumphreyCrewe, Defamer of our State. " Assigned, among others, to the RiptonRecord. 

"Paul Pardriff went up to Leith to-day, " said Mr. Bascom. 

"Go to see him, " replied the Honourable Hilary. "I've been thinking forsome time that the advertising in the Ripton Record deserves anadditional annual. "

Mr. Bascom, having been despatched on this business, and havingvoluntarily assumed control of the Empire Bureau of Publication, thechief counsel transacted other necessary legal business with StateSenator Billings and other gentlemen who were waiting. At three o'clockword was sent in that Mr. Austen Vane was outside, and wished to speakwith his father as soon as the latter was at leisure. Whereupon theHonourable Hilary shooed out the minor clients, leaned back in his chair, and commanded that his son be admitted. 

"Judge, " said Austen, as he closed the door behind him, "I don't want tobother you. "

The Honourable Hilary regarded his son for a moment fixedly out of hislittle eyes. 

"Humph" he said. 

Austen looked down at his father. The Honourable Hilary's expression wasnot one which would have aroused, in the ordinary man who beheld him, afeeling of sympathy or compassion: it was the impenetrable look withwhich he had faced his opponents for many years. But Austen feltcompassion. 

"Perhaps I'd better come in another time--when you are less busy, " hesuggested. 

"Who said I was busy?" inquired the Honourable Hilary. 

Austen smiled a little sadly. One would have thought, by that smile, thatthe son was the older and wiser of the two. 

"I didn't mean to cast any reflection on your habitual industry, Judge, "he said. 

"Humph!" exclaimed Mr. Vane. "I've got more to do than sit in the windowand read poetry, if that's what you mean. "

"You never learned how to enjoy life, did you, Judge?" he said. "I don'tbelieve you ever really had a good time. Own up. "

"I've had sterner things to think about. I've had 'to earn my living--and give you a good time. "

"I appreciate it, " said Austen. 

"Humph! Sometimes I think you don't show it a great deal, " the HonourableHilary answered. 

"I show it as far as I can, Judge, " said his son. "I can't help the way Iwas made. "

"I try to take account of that, " said the Honourable Hilary. 

Austen laughed. 

"I'll drop in to-morrow morning, " he said. 

But the Honourable Hilary pointed to a chair on the other side of thedesk. 

"Sit down. To-day's as good as to-morrow, " he remarked, with sententioussignificance, characteristically throwing the burden of explanation onthe visitor. 

Austen found the opening unexpectedly difficult. He felt that this was acrisis in their relations, and that it had come at an unfortunate hour. 

"Judge, " he said, trying to control the feeling that threatened to creepinto his voice, "we have jogged along for some years pretty peaceably, and I hope you won't misunderstand what I'm going to say. "

The Honourable Hilary grunted. 

"It was at your request that I went into the law. I have learned to likethat profession. I have stuck to it as well as my wandering, Bohemiannature will permit, and while I do not expect you necessarily to feel anypride in such progress as I have made, I have hoped--that you might feelan interest. "

The Honourable Hilary grunted again. 

"I suppose I am by nature a free-lance, " Austen continued. "You were goodenough to acknowledge the force of my argument when I told you it wouldbe best for me to strike out for myself. And I suppose it was inevitable, such being the case, and you the chief counsel for the NortheasternRailroads, that I should at some time or another be called upon to bringsuits against your client. It would have been better, perhaps, if I hadnot started to practise in this State. I did so from what I believe was adesire common to both of us to--to live together. "

The Honourable Hilary reached for his Honey Dew, but he did not speak. 

"To live together, " Austen repeated. "I want to say that, if I had goneaway, I believe I should always have regretted the fact. " He paused, andtook from his pocket a slip of paper. "I made up my mind from the startthat I would always be frank with you. In spite of my desire to amassriches, there are some suits against the Northeastern which I have--somewhat quixotically--refused. Here is a section of the act whichpermitted the consolidation of the Northeastern Railroads. You are nodoubt aware of its existence. "

The Honourable Hilary took the slip of paper in his hand and stared atit. "The rates for fares and freights existing at the time of the passageof this act shall mot be increased on the roads leased or united underit. " What his sensations were when he read it no man might have read inhis face, but his hand trembled a little, and along silence ensued beforehe gave it back to his son with the simple comment:--"Well?"

"I do not wish to be understood to ask your legal opinion, although youprobably know that lumber rates have been steadily raised, and if a suitunder that section were successful the Gaylord Lumber Company couldrecover a very large sum of money from the Northeastern Railroads, " saidAusten. "Having discovered the section, I believe it to be my duty tocall it to the attention of the Gaylords. What I wish to know is, whethermy taking the case would cause you any personal inconvenience ordistress? If so, I will refuse it. "

"No, " answered the Honourable Hilary, "it won't. Bring suit. Much useit'll be. Do you expect they can recover under that section?"

"I think it is worth trying, " said Austen. 

"Why didn't somebody try it before?" asked the Honourable Hilary. 

"See here, Judge, I wish you'd let me out of an argument about it. Suitis going to be brought, whether I bring it or another man. If you wouldprefer for any reason that I shouldn't bring it--I won't. I'd much ratherresign as counsel for the Gaylords--and I am prepared to do so. "

"Bring suit, " answered the Honourable Hilary, quickly, "bring suit by allmeans. And now's your time. This seems to be a popular season forattacking the property which is the foundation of the State'sprosperity. " ("Book of Arguments, " chapter 3. )

In spite of himself, Austen smiled again. Long habit had accustomedHilary Vane to put business considerations before family ties; and thishabit had been the secret of his particular success. And now, rather thanadmit by the least sign the importance of his son's discovery of thestatute (which he had had in mind for many years, and to which he hadmore than once, by the way, called Mr. Flint's attention), the HonourableHilary deliberately belittled the matter as part and parcel of thepolitical tactics against the Northeastern. 

Sears caused by differences of opinion are soon healed; words count fornothing, and it is the soul that attracts or repels. Mr. Vane was notanalytical, he had been through a harassing day, and he was unaware thatit was not Austen's opposition, but Austen's smile, which set the torchto his anger. Once, shortly after his marriage, when he had come home inwrath after a protracted quarrel with Mr. Tredway over the orthodoxy ofthe new minister, in the middle of his indignant recital of Mr. Tredway'sunwarranted attitude, Sarah Austen had smiled. The smile had had in it, to be sure, nothing of conscious superiority, but it had been utterlyinexplicable to Hilary Vane. He had known for the first time what it wasto feel murder in the heart, and if he had not rushed out of the room, hewas sure he would have strangled her. After all, the Hilary Vanes of thisworld cannot reasonably be expected to perceive the humour in theirendeavours. 

Now the son's smile seemed the reincarnation of the mother's. That smilewas in itself a refutation of motive on Austen's part which no wordscould have made more emphatic; it had in it (unconsciously, too)compassion for and understanding of the Honourable Hilary's mood andlimitations. Out of the corner of his mental vision--without graspingit--the Honourable Hilary perceived this vaguely. It was the smile inwhich a parent privately indulges when a child kicks his toy locomotivebecause its mechanism is broken. It was the smile of one who, unforgetfulof the scheme of the firmament and the spinning planets, will not bemoved to anger by him who sees but the four sides of a pit. 

Hilary Vane grew red around the eyes--a danger signal of the old days. 

"Take the suit, " he said. "If you don't, I'll make it known all over theState that you started it. I'll tell Mr. Flint to-morrow. Take it, do youhear me? You ask me if I have any pride in you. I answer, yes. I'd liketo see what you can do. I've done what I could for you, and now I wash myhands of you. Go, --ruin yourself if you want to. You've always beenheaded that way, and there's no use trying to stop you. You don't seem tohave any notion of decency or order, or any idea of the principle onwhich this government was based. Attack property destroy it. So much thebetter for you and your kind. Join the Humphrey Crewes--you belong with'em. Give those of us who stand for order and decency as much trouble asyou can. Brand us as rascals trying to enrich ourselves with politics, and proclaim yourselves saints nobly striving to get back the rights ofthe people. If you don't bring that suit, I tell you I'll give you thecredit for it--and I mean what I say. "

Austen got to his feet. His own expression, curiously enough, had notchanged to one of anger. His face had set, but his eyes held the lookthat seemed still to express compassion, and what he felt was a sorrowthat went to the depths of his nature. What he had so long feared--whathe knew they had both feared--had come at last. 

"Good-by, Judge, " he said. 

Hilary Vane stared at him dumbly. His anger had not cooled, his eyesstill flamed, but he suddenly found himself bereft of speech. Austen puthis hand on his father's shoulder, and looked down silently into hisface. But Hilary was stiff as in a rigour, expressionless save for thedefiant red in his eye. 

"I don't think you meant all that, Judge, and I don't intend to hold itagainst you. "

Still Hilary stared, his lips in the tight line which was the emblem ofhis character, his body rigid. He saw his son turn and walk to the door, and turn again with his handle on the knob, and Hilary did not move. Thedoor closed, and still he sat there, motionless, expressionless. 

Austen was hailed by those in the outer office, but he walked throughthem as though the place were empty. Rumours sprang up behind him ofwhich he was unconscious; the long-expected quarrel had come; Austen hadjoined the motley ranks of the rebels under Mr. Crewe. Only the officeboy, Jimmy Towle, interrupted the jokes that were flying by repeating, with dogged vehemence, "I tell you it ain't so. Austen kicked Hamdownstairs. Ned Johnson saw him. " Nor was it on account of thisparticular deed that Austen was a hero in Jimmy's eyes. 

Austen, finding himself in the square, looked at his watch. It was fouro'clock. He made his way under the maples to the house in Hanover Street, halted for a moment contemplatively before the familiar classic pillarsof its porch, took a key from his pocket, and (unprecedented action!)entered by the front door. Climbing to the attic, he found twovalises--one of which he had brought back from Pepper County--and tookthem to his own room. They held, with a little crowding, most of hispossessions, including a photograph of Sarah Austen, which he left on thebureau to the last. Once or twice he paused in his packing to gaze at theface, striving to fathom the fleeting quality of her glance which thephotograph had so strangely caught. In that glance nature had stamped herenigma--for Sarah Austen was a child of nature. Hers was the gentle lookof wild things--but it was more; it was the understanding of--theunwritten law of creation, the law by which the flowers grow, and wither;the law by which the animal springs upon its prey, and, unerring, seeksits mate; the law of the song of the waters, and the song of the morningstars; the law that permits evil and pain and dumb, incomprehensiblesuffering; the law that floods at sunset the mountain lands with colourand the soul with light; and the law that rends the branches in the bluestorm. Of what avail was anger against it, or the puny rage of man?Hilary Vane, not recognizing it, had spent his force upon it, like a hawkagainst a mountain wall, but Austen looked at his mother's face andunderstood. In it was not the wisdom of creeds and cities, but theunworldly wisdom which comprehends and condones. 

His packing finished, with one last glance at the room Austen wentdownstairs with his valises and laid them on the doorstep. Then he wentto the stable and harnessed Pepper, putting into the buggy his stableblanket and halter and currycomb, and, driving around to the front of thehouse, hitched the horse at the stone post, and packed the valises in theback of the buggy. After that he walked slowly to the back of the houseand looked in at the kitchen window. Euphrasia, her thin arms bare to theelbow, was bending over a wash-tub. He spoke her name, and as she liftedher head a light came into her face which seemed to make her young again. She dried her hands hastily on her apron as she drew towards him. Hesprang through the window, and patted her on the back--his usualsalutation. And as she raised her eyes to his (those ordinarily sharpeyes of Euphrasia's), they shone with an admiration she had accorded tono other human being since he had come into the world. Terms ofendearment she had, characteristically, never used, she threw her soulinto the sounding of his name. 

"Off to the hills, Austen? I saw you a-harnessing of Pepper. "

"Phrasie, " he said, still patting her, "I'm going to the country for awhile. "

"To the country?" she repeated. 

"To stay on a farm for a sort of vacation. "

Her face brightened. 

"Goin' to take a real vacation, be you?"

He laughed. 

"Oh, I don't have to work very hard, Phrasie. You know I get out a gooddeal. I just thought--I just thought I'd like to--sleep in the country--for a while. "

"Well, " answered Euphrasia, "I guess if you've took the notion, you'vegot to go. It was that way with your mother before you. I've seen herleave the house on a bright Sabbath half an hour before meetin' to begone the whole day, and Hilary and all the ministers in town couldn'tstop her. "

"I'll drop in once in a while to see you, Phrasie. I'll be at JabeJenney's. "

"Jabe's is not more than three or four miles from Flint's place, "Euphrasia remarked. 

"I've thought of that, " said Austen. 

"You'd thought of it!"

Austen coloured. 

"The distance is nothing, " he said quickly, "with Pepper. "

"And you'll come and see me?" asked Euphrasia. 

"If you'll do something for me, " he said. 

"I always do what you want, Austen. You know I'm not able to refuse you. "

He laid his hands on her shoulders. 

"You'll promise?" he asked. 

"I'll promise, " said Euphrasia, solemnly. 

He was silent for a moment, looking down at her. 

"I want you to promise to stay here and take care of the Judge. "

Fright crept into her eyes, but his own were smiling, reassuring. 

"Take care of him!" she cried, the very mention of Hilary raising thepitch of her voice. "I guess I'll have to. Haven't I took care of himnigh on forty years, and small thanks and recompense I get for it exceptwhen you're here. I've wore out my life takin' care of him" (moregently). "What do you mean by makin' me promise such a thing, Austen?"

"Well, " said Austen, slowly, "the Judge is worried now. Things are notgoing as smoothly with him as usual. "

"Money?" demanded Euphrasia. "He ain't lost money, has he?"

A light began to dance in Austen's eyes in spite of the weight withinhim. 

"Now, Phrasie, " he said, lifting her chin a little, "you know you don'tcare any more about money than I do. "

"Lord help me, " she exclaimed, "Lord help me if I didn't! And as long asyou don't care for it, and no sense can be knocked into your head aboutit, I hope you'll marry somebody that does know the value of it. IfHilary was to lose what he has now, before it comes rightly to you, he'dought to be put in jail. "

Austen laughed, and shook his head. 

"Phrasie, the Lord did you a grave injustice when he didn't make you aman, but I suppose he'll give you a recompense hereafter. No, I believe Iam safe in saying that the Judge's securities are still secure. Not thatI really know--or care--" (shakes of the head from Euphrasia). "Poor oldJudge! Worse things than finance are troubling him now. "

"Not a woman!" cried Euphrasia, horror-stricken at the very thought. "Hehasn't took it into his head after all these years--"

"No, " said Austen, laughing, "no, no. It's not quite as bad as that, butit's pretty bad. "

"In Heaven's name, what is it?" she demanded. "Reformers, " said Austen. 

"Reformers?" she repeated. "What might they be?"

"Well, " answered Austen, "you might call them a new kind of caterpillar--only they feed on corporations instead of trees. "

Euphrasia shook her head vigorously. 

"Go 'long, " she exclaimed. "When you talk like that I never can followyou, Austen. If Hilary has any worries, I guess he brought 'em onhimself. I never knew him to fail. "

"Ambitious and designing persons are making trouble for his railroad. "

"Well, I never took much stock in that railroad, " said Euphrasia, withemphasis. "I never was on it but an engine gave out, and the cars wasjammed, and it wasn't less than an hour late. And then they're eternallysmashin' folks or runnin' 'em down. You served 'em right when you made'em pay that Meader man six thousand dollars, and I told Hilary so. " Shepaused, and stared at Austen fixedly as a thought came into her head. "You ain't leavin' him because of this trouble, are you, Austen?"

"Phrasie, " he said, "I--I don't want to quarrel with him now. I think itwould be easy to quarrel with him. "

"You mean him quarrel with you, " returned Euphrasia. "I'd like to seehim! If he did, it wouldn't take me long to pack up and leave. "

"That's just it. I don't want that to happen. And I've had a longing togo out and pay a little visit to Jabe up in the hills, and drive hiscolts for him. You see, " he said, "I've got a kind of affection for theJudge. "

Euphrasia looked at him, and her lips trembled. 

"He don't deserve it, " she declared, "but I suppose he's your father. "

"He can't get out of that, " said Austen. 

"I'd like to see him try it, " said Euphrasia. "Come in soon, Austen, " shewhispered, "come in soon. "

She stood on the lawn and watched him as he drove away, and he wavedgood-by to her over the hood of the buggy. When he was out of sight shelifted her head, gave her eyes a vigorous brush with her checked apron, and went back to her washing. 

It was not until Euphrasia had supper on the table that Hilary Vane camehome, and she glanced at him sharply as he took his usual seat. It is acurious fact that it is possible for two persons to live together formore than a third of a century, and at the end of that time understandeach other little better than at the beginning. The sole bond betweenEuphrasia and Hilary was that of Sarah Austen and her son. Euphrasianever knew when Hilary was tired, or when he was cold, or hungry, orcross, although she provided for all these emergencies. Her service tohim was unflagging, but he had never been under the slightest delusionthat it was not an inheritance from his wife. There must have been someaffection between Mr. Vane and his housekeeper, hidden away in the strongboxes of both but up to the present this was only a theory--not quite asprobable as that about the inhabitants of Mars. 

He ate his supper to-night with his usual appetite, which had always beensparing; and he would have eaten the same amount if the NortheasternRailroads had been going into the hands of a receiver the next day. Oftenhe did not exchange a word with Euphrasia between home-coming andbed-going, and this was apparently to be one of these occasions. Aftersupper he went, as usual, to sit on the steps of his porch, and to cuthis piece of Honey Dew, which never varied a milligram. Nine o'clockstruck, and Euphrasia, who had shut up the back of the house, was on herway to bed with her lamp in her hand, when she came face to face with himin the narrow passageway. 

"Where's Austen?" he asked. 

Euphrasia halted. The lamp shook, but she raised it to the level of hiseyes. 

"Don't you know?" she demanded. 

"No, " he said, with unparalleled humility. 

She put down the lamp on the little table that stood beside her. 

"He didn't tell you he was a-goin'?"

"No, " said Hilary. 

"Then how did you know he wasn't just buggy-ridin'?" she said. 

Hilary Vane was mute. 

"You've be'n to his room!" she exclaimed. "You've seen his things aregone!"

He confessed it by his silence. Then, with amazing swiftness and vigourfor one of her age, Euphrasia seized him by the arms and shook him. 

"What have you done to him?" she cried; "what have you done to him? Yousent him off. You've never understood him--you've never behaved like afather to him. You ain't worthy to have him. " She flung herself away andstood facing Hilary at a little distance. What a fool I was! What a fool!I might have known it, and I promised him. "

"Promised him?" Hilary repeated. The shaking, the vehemence and anger, ofEuphrasia seemed to have had no effect whatever on the main trend of histhoughts. 

"Where has he gone?"

"You can find out for yourself, " she retorted bitterly. "I wish on youraccount it was to China. He came here this afternoon, as gentle as ever, and packed up his things, and said he was goin' away because you wasworried. Worried!" she exclaimed scornfully. "His worry and his troubledon't count--but yours. And he made me promise to stay with you. If itwasn't for him, " she cried, picking up the lamp, "I'd leave you this verynight. "

She swept past him, and up the narrow stairway to her bedroom. 

CHAPTER XVII

BUSY DAYS AT WEDDERBURN

There is no blast so powerful, so withering, as the blast of ridicule. Only the strongest men can withstand it, only reformers who are such indeed, and not alone in name, can snap their fingers at it, and liken itto the crackling of thorns under a pot. Confucius and Martin Luther musthave been ridiculed, Mr. Crewe reflected, and although he did not havetime to assure himself on these historical points, the thought stayedhim. Sixty odd weekly newspapers, filled with arguments from the Book, attacked him all at once; and if by chance he should have missed the bestpart of this flattering personal attention, the editorials whichcontained the most spice were copied at the end of the week into thecolumns of his erstwhile friend, the State Tribune, now the organ of thatmysterious personality, the Honourable Adam B. Hunt. 'Et tu, Brute!'

Moreover, Mr. Peter Pardriff had something of his own to say. Somegentlemen of prominence (not among the twenty signers of the newDeclaration of Independence) had been interviewed by the Tribune reporteron the subject of Mr. Crewe's candidacy. Here are some of the answers, duly tabulated. 

"Negligible. "--Congressman Fairplay. 

"One less vote for the Honourable Adam B. Hunt. "--The Honourable JacobBotcher. 

"A monumental farce. "--Ex-Governor Broadbent. 

"Who is Mr. Crewe?"--Senator Whitredge. (Ah ha! Senator, this want shallbe supplied, at least. )

"I have been very busy. I do not know what candidates are in thefield. "--Mr. Augustus P. Flint, president of the Northeastern Railroads. (The unkindest cut of all!)

"I have heard that a Mr. Crewe is a candidate, but I do not know muchabout him. They tell me he is a summer resident at Leith. "--TheHonourable Hilary Vane. 

"A millionaire's freak--not to be taken seriously. --State SenatorNathaniel Billings. "

The State Tribune itself seemed to be especially interested in the pastcareers of the twenty signers. Who composed this dauntless band, whosemembers had arisen with remarkable unanimity and martyr's zeal in suchwidely scattered parts of the State? Had each been simultaneouslyinspired with the same high thought, and--more amazing still--with theidea of the same peerless leader? The Tribune modestly ventured thetheory that Mr. Crewe had appeared to each of the twenty in a dream, witha flaming sword pointing to the steam of the dragon's breath. Or, perhaps, a star had led each of the twenty to Leith. (This likening ofMr. H--n T--g to a star caused much merriment among that gentleman'sformer friends and acquaintances. ) The Tribune could not account for thisphenomenon by any natural laws, and was forced to believe that the thingwas a miracle--in which case it behooved the Northeastern Railroads toread the handwriting on the wall. Unless--unless the twenty did notexist! Unless the whole thing were a joke! The Tribune remembered a timewhen a signed statement, purporting to come from a certain Mrs. Amanda P. Pillow, of 22 Blair Street, Newcastle, had appeared, to the effect thatthree bottles of Rand's Peach Nectar had cured her of dropsy. Oninvestigation there was no Blair Street, and Mrs. Amanda P. Pillow was asyet unborn. The one sure thing about the statement was that Rand's PeachNectar could be had, in large or small quantities, as desired. And theTribune was prepared to state; on its own authority, that a Mr. HumphreyCrewe did exist, and might reluctantly consent to take the nomination forthe governorship. In industry and zeal he was said to resemble thecelebrated and lamented Mr. Rand, of the Peach Nectar. 

Ingratitude merely injures those who are capable of it, although itsometimes produces sadness in great souls. What were Mr. Crewe's feelingswhen he read this drivel? When he perused the extracts from the "Book ofArguments" which appeared (with astonishing unanimity, too!) in sixty oddweekly newspapers of the State--an assortment of arguments for eachcounty. 

"Brush Bascom's doin' that work now, " said Mr. Tooting, contemptuously, "and he's doin' it with a shovel. Look here! He's got the same squib inthree towns within a dozen miles of each other, the one beginning'Political conditions in this State are as clean as those of any State inthe Union, and the United Northeastern Railroads is a corporation whichis, fortunately, above calumny. A summer resident who, to satisfy hislust for office, is rolling to defame--'"

"Yes, " interrupted Mr. Crewe, "never mind reading any more of that rot. "

"It's botched, " said Mr. Tooting, whose artistic soul was jarred. "I'dhave put that in Avalon County, and Weave, and Marshall. I know men thattake all three of those papers in Putnam. "

No need of balloonists to see what the enemy is about, when we have a Mr. Tooting. 

"They're stung!" he cried, as he ran rapidly through the bundle ofpapers--Mr. Crewe having subscribed, with characteristic generosity, tothe entire press of the State. "Flint gave 'em out all this stuff aboutthe railroad bein' a sacred institution. You've got 'em on the run rightnow, Mr. Crewe. You'll notice that, Democrats and Republicans, they'vedropped everybody else, that they've all been sicked on to you. They'rescared. "

"I came to that conclusion some time ago, " replied Mr. Crewe, who wassorting over his letters. 

"And look there!" exclaimed Mr. Tooting, tearing out a paragraph, "there's the best campaign material we've had yet. Say, I'll bet Flinttaken that doddering idiot's pass away for writing that. "

Mr. Crewe took the extract, and read:--

 "A summer resident of Leith, who is said to be a millionaire many times over, and who had a somewhat farcical career as a legislator last winter, has announced himself as a candidate for the Republican nomination on a platform attacking the Northeastern Railroads. Mr. Humphrey Crewe declares that the Northeastern Railroads govern us. What if they do? Every sober-minded citizen, will agree that they give us a pretty good government. More power to them. "

Mr. Crewe permitted himself to smile. 

"They are playing into our hands, sure enough. What?"

This is an example of the spirit in which the ridicule and abuse was met. 

It was Senator Whitredge--only, last autumn so pleased to meet Mr. Creweat Mr. Flint's--who asked the hypocritical question, "Who is HumphreyCrewe?" A biography (in pamphlet form, illustrated, --send your name andaddress) is being prepared by the invaluable Mr. Tooting, who only sleepssix hours these days. We shall see it presently, when it emerges fromthat busy hive at Wedderburn. 

Wedderburn was a hive, sure enough. Not having a balloon ourselves, it isdifficult to see all that is going on there; but there can be no mistake(except by the Honourable Hilary's seismograph) that it has become thecentre of extraordinary activity. The outside world has paused to drawbreath at the spectacle, and members of the metropolitan press arefilling the rooms of the Ripton House and adding to the prosperity of itslivery-stable. Mr. Crewe is a difficult man to see these days--there areso many visitors at Wedderburn, and the representatives of themetropolitan press hitch their horses and stroll around the grounds, orsit on the porch and converse with gentlemen from various counties of theState who (as the Tribune would put it) have been led by a star to Leith. 

On the occasion of one of these gatherings, when Mr. Crewe had beeninaccessible for four hours, Mrs. Pomfret drove up in a victoria with herdaughter Alice. 

"I'm sure I don't know when we're going to see poor dear Humphrey again, "said Mrs. Pomfret, examining the group on the porch through hergold-mounted lenses; these awful people are always here when I come. Iwonder if they sleep here, in the hammocks and lounging chairs! Alice, wemust be very polite to them--so much depends on it. "

"I'm always polite, mother, " answered Alice, "except when you tell me notto be. The trouble is I never know myself. "

The victoria stopped in front of the door, and the irreproachable Watersadvanced across the porch. 

"Waters, " said Mrs. Pomfret, "I suppose Mr. Crewe is too busy to comeout. "

"I'm afraid so, madam, " replied Waters; "there's a line of gentlemenwaitin' here" (he eyed them with no uncertain disapproval). And I'vepositive orders not to disturb him, madam. "

"I quite understand, at a time like this, " said Mrs. Pomfret, and added, for the benefit of her audience, "when Mr. Crewe has been public-spiritedand unselfish enough to undertake such a gigantic task. Tell him MissPomfret and I call from time to time because we are so interested, andthat the whole of Leith wishes him success. "

"I'll tell him, madam, " said Waters, But Mrs. Pomfret did not give the signal for her coachman to drive on. She looked, instead, at the patient gathering. 

"Good morning, gentlemen, " she said. 

"Mother!" whispered Alice, "what are you going to do?"

The gentlemen rose. 

"I'm Mrs. Pomfret, " she said, as though that simple announcement werequite sufficient, --as it was, for the metropolitan press. Not a man ofthem who had not seen Mrs. Pomfret's important movements on both sides ofthe water chronicled. "I take the liberty of speaking to you, as we allseem to be united in a common cause. How is the campaign looking?"

Some of the gentlemen shifted their cigars from one hand to the other, and grinned sheepishly. 

"I am so interested, " continued Mrs. Pomfret; "it is so unusual inAmerica for a gentleman to be willing to undertake such a thing, tosubject himself to low criticism, and to have his pure motivesquestioned. Mr. Crewe has rare courage--I have always said so. And we areall going to put our shoulder to the wheel, and help him all we can. "

There was one clever man there who was quick to see his opportunity, andseize it for his newspaper. 

"And are you going to help Mr. Crewe in his campaign, Mrs. Pomfret?"

"Most assuredly, " answered Mrs. Pomfret. "Women in this country could doso much if they only would. You know, " she added, in her most winningmanner, "you know that a woman can often get a vote when a man can't. "

"And you, and--other ladies will go around to the public meetings?"

"Why not, my friend; if Mr. Crewe has no objection? and I can conceive ofnone. "

"You would have an organization of society ladies to help Mr. Crewe?"

"That's rather a crude way of putting it, " answered Mrs. Pomfret, withher glasses raised judicially. "Women in what you call I society are, Iam glad to say, taking an increasing interest in politics. They arebeginning to realize that it is a duty. "

"Thank you, " said the reporter; "and now would you mind if I took aphotograph of you in your carriage. "

"Oh, mother, " protested Alice, "you won't let him do that!"

"Be quiet, Alice. Lady Aylestone and the duchess are photographed inevery conceivable pose for political purposes. Wymans, just drive aroundto the other side of the circle. "

The article appeared next day, and gave, as may be imagined, a tremendousimpetus to Mr. Crewe's cause. "A new era in American politics!" "Societyto take a hand in the gubernatorial campaign of Millionaire HumphreyCrewe!" "Noted social leader, Mrs. Patterson Pomfret, declares it a duty, and saga that English women have the right idea. " And a photograph ofMrs. Patterson Pomfret herself, in her victoria, occupied a generousportion of the front page. 

"What's all this rubbish about Mrs. Pomfret?" was Mr. Crewe's gratefulcomment when he saw it. "I spent two valuable hours with that reportergivin' him material and statistics, and I can't find that he's used aword of it. "

"Never you mind about that, " Mr. Tooting replied. "The more advertisingyou get, the better, and this shows that the right people are behind you. Mrs. Pomfret's a smart woman, all right. She knows her job. And here'smore advertising, " he continued, shoving another sheet across the desk, "a fine likeness of you in caricature labelled, 'Ajax defying theLightning. ' Who's Ajax? There was an Italian, a street contractor, withthat name--or something like it--in Newcastle a couple of years ago--inthe eighth ward. "

In these days, when false rumours fly apace to the injury of innocentmen, it is well to get at the truth, if possible. It is not true that Mr. Paul Pardriff, of the 'Ripton Record, ' has been to Wedderburn. Mr. Pardriff was getting into a buggy to go--somewhere--when he chanced tomeet the Honourable Brush Bascom, and the buggy was sent back to thelivery-stable. Mr. Tooting had been to see Mr. Pardriff before theworld-quaking announcement of June 7th, and had found Mr. Pardriff areformer who did not believe that the railroad should run the State. Butthe editor of the Ripton Record was a man after Emerson's own heart: "afoolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds"--and Mr. Pardriffdid not go to Wedderburn. He went off on an excursion up the Stateinstead, for he had been working too hard; and he returned, as many mendo from their travels, a conservative. He listened coldly to Mr. Tooting's impassioned pleas for cleaner politics, until Mr. Tootingrevealed the fact that his pockets were full of copy. It seems that abiography was to be printed--a biography which would, undoubtedly, be ingreat demand; the biography of a public benefactor, illustrated withoriginal photographs and views in the country. Mr. Tooting and Mr. Pardriff both being men of the world, some exceeding plain talk ensuedbetween them, and when two such minds unite, a way out is sure to befound. One can be both a conservative and a radical--if one is clever. There were other columns in Mr. Pardriff's paper besides editorialcolumns; editorial columns, Mr. Pardriff said, were sacred to hisconvictions. Certain thumb-worn schedules were referred to. PaulPardriff, Ripton, agreed to be the publisher of the biography. 

The next edition of the Record was an example of what Mr. Emerson meant. Three columns contained extracts of absorbing interest from theforthcoming biography and, on another page, an editorial. The HonourableHumphrey Crewe, of Leith, is an estimable gentleman and a good citizen, whose public endeavours have been of great benefit to the community. Acitizen of Avalon County, the Record regrets that it cannot support hiscandidacy for the Republican gubernatorial nomination. We are not amongthose who seek to impugn motives, and while giving Mr. Crewe every creditthat his charges against the Northeastern Railroads are made in goodfaith, we beg to differ from him. That corporation is an institutionwhich has stood the test of time, and enriches every year the Statetreasury by a large sum in taxes. Its management is in safe, conservativehands. No one will deny Mr. Crewe's zeal for the State's welfare, but itmust be borne in mind that he is a newcomer in politics, and thatconditions, seen from the surface, are sometimes deceptive. We predictfor Mr. Crewe a long and useful career, but we do not think that at thistime, and on this platform, he will obtain the governorship. "

"Moral courage is what the age needs, " had been Mr. Crewe's true andsententious remark when he read this editorial. But, bearing in mind abiblical adage, he did not blame Mr. Tooting for his diplomacy. "Send inthe next man. "

Mr. Tooting opened the study door and glanced over the public-spiritedcitizens awaiting, on the porch, the pleasure of their leader. 

"Come along, Caldwell, " said Mr. Tooting. "He wants your report fromKingston. Get a hustle on!"

Mr. Caldwell made his report, received many brief and business-likesuggestions, and retired, impressed. Whereupon Mr. Crewe commanded Mr. Tooting to order his automobile--an occasional and rapid spin over thecountry roads being the only diversion the candidate permitted himself. Wishing to be alone with his thoughts, he did not take Mr. Tooting withhim on these excursions. 

"And by the way, " said Mr. Crewe, as he seized the steering wheel a fewmoments later, "just drop a line to Austen Vane, will you, and tell him Iwant to see him up here within a day or two. Make an appointment. It hasoccurred to me that he might be very useful. "

Mr. Tooting stood on the driveway watching the cloud of dust settle onthe road below. Then he indulged in a long and peculiarly significantwhistle through his teeth, rolled his eyes heavenward, and went into thehouse. He remembered Austen's remark about riding a cyclone. 

Mr. Crewe took the Tunbridge road. On his excursion of the day before hehad met Mrs. Pomfret, who had held up her hand, and he had protestinglybrought the car to a stop. 

"Your horses don't frighten, " he had said. 

"No, but I wanted to speak to you, Humphrey, " Mrs. Pomfret had replied;"you are becoming so important that nobody ever has a glimpse of you. Iwanted to tell you what an interest we take in this splendid thing youare doing. "

"Well, " said Mr. Crewe, "it was a plain duty, and nobody else seemedwilling to undertake it. "

Mrs. Pomfret's eyes had flashed. 

"Men of that type are scarce, " she answered. "But you'll win. You're thekind of man that wins. "

"Oh, yes, I'll win, " said Mr. Crewe. 

"You're so magnificently sure of yourself, " cried Mrs. Pomfret. "Alice istaking such an interest. Every day she asks, 'When is Humphrey going tomake his first speech?' You'll let us know in time, won't you?"

"Did you put all that nonsense in the New York Flare?" asked Mr. Crewe. 

"Oh, Humphrey, I hope you liked it, " cried Mrs. Pomfret. "Don't make themistake of despising what women can do. They elected the Honourable BillyAylestone--he said so himself. I'm getting all the women interested. "

"Who've you been calling on now?" he inquired. 

Mrs. Pomfret hesitated. 

"I've been up at Fairview to see about Mrs. Flint. She isn't muchbetter. "

"Is Victoria home?" Mr. Crewe demanded, with undisguised interest. 

"Poor dear girl!" said Mrs. Pomfret, "of course I wouldn't have mentionedthe subject to her, but she wanted to know all about it. It naturallymakes an awkward situation between you and her, doesn't it?"

"Oh, Victoria's level-headed enough, " Mr. Crewe had answered; "I guessshe knows something about old Flint and his methods by this time. At anyrate, it won't make any difference with me, " he added magnanimously, andthrew in his clutch. He had encircled Fairview in his drive that day, andwas, curiously enough, headed in that direction now. Slow to make up hismind in some things, as every eligible man must be, he was now comingrapidly to the notion that he might eventually decide upon Victoria asthe most fitting mate for one in his position. Still, there was no hurry. As for going to Fairview House, that might be awkward, besides being opento misconstruction by his constituents. Mr. Crewe reflected, as he rushedup the hills, that he had missed Victoria since she had been abroad--anda man so continually occupied as he did not have time to miss manypeople. Mr. Crewe made up his mind he would encircle Fairview every dayuntil he ran across her. 

The goddess of fortune sometimes blesses the persistent even before theybegin to persist--perhaps from sheer weariness at the remembrance ofprevious importuning. Victoria, on a brand-new and somewhat sensitivefive-year-old, was coming out of the stone archway when Mr. Crewe(without any signal this time!) threw on his brakes. An exhibition ofhorsemanship followed, on Victoria's part, which Mr. Crewe beheld withadmiration. The five-year-old swung about like a weathercock in a gust ofwind, assuming an upright position, like the unicorn in the British coatof arms. Victoria cut him, and he came down on all fours and danced intothe wire fence that encircled the Fairview domain, whereupon he gotanother stinging reminder that there was some one on his back. 

"Bravo!" cried Mr. Crewe, leaning on the steering wheel and watching theperformance with delight. Never, he thought, had Victoria been moreappealing; strangely enough, he had not remembered that she was quite sohandsome, or that her colour was so vivid; or that her body was sostraight and long and supple. He liked the way in which she gave it tothat horse, and he made up his mind that she would grace any position, however high. Presently the horse made a leap into the road in front ofthe motor and stood trembling, ready to bolt. 

"For Heaven's sake, Humphrey, " she cried, "shut off your power? Don't sitthere like an idiot--do you think I'm doing this for pleasure?"

Mr. Crewe good-naturedly turned off his switch, and the motor, with adying sigh, was silent. He even liked the notion of being commanded to doa thing; there was a relish about it that was new. The other women of hisacquaintance addressed him more deferentially. 

"Get hold of the bridle, " he said to the chauffeur. "You've got nobusiness to have an animal like that, " was his remark to Victoria. 

"Don't touch him!" she said to the man, who was approaching with a truemachinist's fear of a high-spirited horse. "You've got no business tohave a motor like that, if you can't handle it any better than you do. "

"You managed him all right. I'll say that for you, " said Mr. Crewe. 

"No thanks to you, " she replied. Now that the horse was comparativelyquiet, she sat and regarded Mr. Crewe with an amusement which wasgradually getting the better of her anger. A few moments since, and shewished with great intensity that she had been using the whip on hisshoulders instead. Now that she had time to gather up the threads of thesituation, the irresistibly comic aspect of it grew upon her, and littlecreases came into the corners of her eyes--which Mr. Crewe admired. Sherecalled--with indignation, to be sure--the conversation she hadoverheard in the dining room of the Duncan house, but her indignation wasparticularly directed, on that occasion, towards Mr. Tooting. Here wasHumphrey Crewe, sitting talking to her in the road--Humphrey Crewe, whosecandidacy for the governorship impugned her father's management of theNortheastern Railroads--and she was unable to take the matter seriously!There must be something wrong with her, she thought. 

"So you're home again, " Mr. Crewe observed, his eyes still bearingwitness to the indubitable fact. "I shouldn't have known it--I've been sobusy. "

"Is the Legislature still in session?" Victoria soberly inquired. 

"You are a little behind the times--ain't you?" said Mr. Crewe, insurprise. "How long have you been home? Hasn't anybody told you what'sgoing on?"

"I only came up ten days ago, " she answered, "and I'm afraid I've beensomething of a recluse. What is going on?"

"Well, " he declared, "I should have thought you'd heard it, anyway. I'llsend you up a few newspapers when I get back. I'm a candidate for thegovernorship. "

Victoria bit her lip, and leaned over to brush a fly from the neck of herhorse. 

"You are getting on rapidly, Humphrey, " she said. "Do you think you'vegot--any chance?"

"Any chance!" he repeated, with some pardonable force. "I'm sure to benominated. There's an overwhelming sentiment among the voters of thisState for decent politics. It didn't take me long to find that out. Theonly wonder is that somebody hasn't seen it before. "

"Perhaps, " she answered, giving him a steady look, "perhaps somebodyhas. "

One of Mr. Crewe's greatest elements of strength was his imperviousnessto this kind of a remark. 

"If anybody's seen it, " he replied, "they haven't the courage of theirconvictions. " Such were the workings of Mr. Crewe's mind that he hadalready forgotten that first talk with Mr. Hamilton Tooting. "Not that Iwant to take too much credit on myself, " he added, with becoming modesty, "I have had some experience in the world, and it was natural that Ishould get a fresh view. Are you coming down to Leith in a few days?"

"I may, " said Victoria. 

"Telephone me, " said Mr. Crewe, "and if I can get off, I will. I'd liketo talk to you. You have more sense than most women I know. "

"You overwhelm me, Humphrey. Compliments sound strangely on your lips. "

"When I say a thing, I mean it, " Mr. Crewe declared. "I don't paycompliments. I'd make it a point to take a little time off to talk toyou. You see, so many men are interested in this thing from various partsof the State, and we are so busy organizing, that it absorbs most of myday. "

"I couldn't think of encroaching, " Victoria protested. 

"That's all right--you can be a great help. I've got confidence in yourjudgment. By the way, " he asked suddenly, "you haven't seen your friendAusten Vane since you got back, have you?"

"Why do you call him my friend?" said Victoria. Mr. Crew perceived thatthe exercise had heightened her colour, and the transition appealed tohis sense of beauty. 

"Perhaps I put it a little strongly, " he replied. "You seemed to take aninterest in him, for some reason. I suppose it's because you like newtypes. "

"I like Mr. Vane very much, --and for himself, " she said quietly. "But Ihaven't seen him since I came back. Nor do I think I am likely to seehim. What made you ask about him?"

"Well, he seems to be a man of some local standing, and he ought to be inthis campaign. If you happen to see him, you might mention the subject tohim. I've sent for him to come up and see me. "

"Mr. Vane doesn't seem to me to be a person one can send for like that, "Victoria remarked judicially. "As to advising him as to what course heshould take politically--that would even be straining my friendship foryou, Humphrey. On reflection, " she added, smiling, "there may appear toyou reasons why I should not care to meddle with--politics, just now. "

"I can't see it, " said Mr. Crewe; "you've got a mind of your own, andyou've never been afraid to use it, so far as I know. If you should seethat Vane man, just give him a notion of what I'm trying to do. "

"What are you trying to do?" inquired Victoria, sweetly. 

"I'm trying to clean up this State politically, " said Mr. Crewe, "and I'mgoing to do it. When you come down to Leith, I'll tell you about it, andI'll send you the newspapers to-day. Don't be in a hurry, " he cried, addressing over his shoulder two farmers in a wagon who had driven up afew moments before, and who were apparently anxious to pass. "Wind herup, Adolphe. "

The chauffeur, standing by the crank, started the engine instantly, andthe gears screamed as Mr. Crewe threw in his low speed. The five-year-oldwhirled, and bolted down the road at a pace which would have seemed tochallenge a racing car; and the girl in the saddle, bending to the motionof the horse, was seen to raise her hand in warning. 

"Better stay whar you be, " shouted one of the farmers; "don't go tofollerin' her. The hoes is runnin' away. "

Mr. Crewe steered his car into the Fairview entrance, and backed into theroad again, facing the other way. He had decided to go home. 

"That lady can take care of herself, " he said, and started off towardsLeith, wondering how it was that Mr. Flint had not confided his recentpolitical troubles to his daughter. 

"That hoss is ugly, sure enough, " said the farmer who had spoken before. 

Victoria flew on, down the narrow road. After twenty strides she did notattempt to disguise from herself the fact that the five-year-old was in afrenzy of fear, and running away. Victoria had been run away with before, and having some knowledge of the animal she rode, she did not waste herstrength by pulling on the curb, but sought rather to quiet him with hervoice, which had no effect whatever. He was beyond appeal, his head wasdown, and his ears trembling backwards and straining for a sound of theterror that pursued him. The road ran through the forest, and Victoriareflected that the grade, on the whole, was downward to the EastTunbridge station, where the road crossed the track and took to the hillsbeyond. Once among them, she would be safe--he might run as far, as hepleased. But could she pass the station? She held a firm rein, and triedto keep her mind clear. 

Suddenly, at a slight bend of the road, the corner of the little redbuilding came in sight, some hundreds of yards ahead; and, on the sidewhere it stood, in the clearing, was a white mass which Victoriarecognized as a pile of lumber. She saw several men on the top of thepile, standing motionless; she heard one of them shout; the horseswerved, and she felt herself flung violently to the left. 

Her first thought, after striking, was one of self-congratulation thather safety stirrup and habit had behaved properly. Before she could rise, a man was leaning over her--and in the instant she had the impressionthat he was a friend. Other people had had this impression of him onfirst acquaintance--his size, his genial, brick-red face, and his honestblue eyes all doubtless contributing. 

"Are you hurt, Miss Flint?" he asked. 

"Not in the least, " she replied, springing to her feet to prove thecontrary. What's become of my horse?"

"Two of the men have gone after him, " he said, staring at her withundisguised but honest admiration. Whereupon he became suddenlyembarrassed, and pulled out a handkerchief the size of a table napkin. "Let me dust you off. "

"Thank you, " said Victoria, laughing, and beginning the process herself. Her new acquaintance plied the handkerchief, his face a brighterbrick-red than ever. 

"Thank God, there wasn't a freight on the siding, " he remarked, sofervently that Victoria stole a glance at him. The dusting processcontinued. 

"There, " she exclaimed, at last, adjusting her stock and shaking herskirt, "I'm ever so much obliged. It was very foolish in me to tumbleoff, wasn't it?"

"It was the only thing you could have done, " he declared. "I had a goodview of it, and he flung you like a bean out of a shooter. That's apowerful horse. I guess you're the kind that likes to take risks. "

Victoria laughed at his expressive phrase, and crossed the road, and satdown on the edge of the lumber pile, in the shade. 

"There seems to be nothing to do but wait, " she said, "and to thank youagain. Will you tell me your name?"

"I'm Tom Gaylord, " he replied. 

Her colour, always so near the surface, rose a little as she regardedhim. So this was Austen Vane's particular friend, whom he had tried toput out of his window. A Herculean task, Victoria thought, from Tom'sappearance. Tom sat down within a few feet of her. 

"I've seen you a good many times, Miss Flint, " he remarked, applying thehandkerchief to his face. 

"And I've seen you--once, Mr. Gaylord, " some mischievous impulse promptedher to answer. Perhaps the impulse was more deep-seated, after all. 

"Where?" demanded Tom, promptly. 

"You were engaged, " said Victoria, "in a struggle in a window on RiptonSquare. It looked, for a time, " she continued, "as if you were going tobe dropped on the roof of the porch. "

Tom gazed at her in confusion and surprise. 

"You seem to be fond, too, of dangerous exercise, " she observed. 

"Do you mean to say you remembered me from that?" he exclaimed. "Oh, youknow Austen Vane, don't you?"

"Does Mr. Vane acknowledge the acquaintance?" Victoria inquired. 

"It's funny, but you remind me of Austen, " said Tom, grinning; "you seemto have the same queer way of saying things that he has. " Here he wasconscious of another fit of embarrassment. "I hope you don't mind what Isay, Miss Flint. "

"Not at all, " said Victoria. She turned, and looked across the track. 

"I suppose they are having a lot of trouble in catching my horse, " sheremarked. 

"They'll get him, " Tom assured her, "one of those men is my manager. Healways gets what he starts out for. What were we talking about? Oh, Austen Vane. You see, I've known him ever since I was a shaver, and Ithink the world of him. If he asked me to go to South America and get hima zebra to-morrow, I believe I'd do it. "

"That is real devotion, " said Victoria. The more she saw of young Tom, the better she liked him, although his conversation was apt to beslightly embarrassing. 

"We've been through a lot of rows together, " Tom continued, warming tohis subject, "in school and college. You see, Austen's the kind of manwho doesn't care what anybody thinks, if he takes it into his head to doa thing. It was a great piece of luck for me that he shot that fellow outWest, or he wouldn't be here now. You heard about that, didn't you?"

"Yes, " said Victoria, "I believe I did. "

"And yet, " said Tom, "although I'm as good a friend as he has, I neverquite got under his skin. There's some things I wouldn't talk to himabout. I've learned that. I never told him, for instance, that I saw himout in a sleigh with you at the capital. "

"Oh, " said Victoria; and she added, "Is he ashamed of it?"

"It's not that, " replied Tom, hastily, "but I guess if he'd wanted me toknow about it, he'd have told me. "

Victoria had begun to realize that, in the few minutes which had elapsedsince she had found herself on the roadside, gazing up into young Tom'seyes, she had somehow become quite intimate with him. 

"I fancy he would have told you all there was to tell about it--if thematter had occurred to him again, " she said, with the air of finallydismissing a subject already too prolonged. But Tom knew nothing of theshades and conventions of the art of conversation. 

"He's never told me he knew you at all!" he exclaimed, staring atVictoria. Apparently some of the aspects of this now significant omissionon Austen's part were beginning to dawn on Tom. 

"It wasn't worth mentioning, " said Victoria, briefly, seeking for apretext to change the subject. 

"I don't believe that, " said Tom, "you can't expect me to sit here andlook at you and believe that. How long has he known you?"

"I saw him once or twice last summer, at Leith, " said Victoria, nowwavering between laughter and exasperation. She had got herself into aquandary indeed when she had to parry the appalling frankness of suchinquiries. 

"The more you see of him, the more you'll admire him, I'll prophesy, "said Tom. "If he'd been content to travel along the easy road, as mostfellows are, he would have been counsel for the Northeastern. Instead ofthat--" here Tom halted abruptly, and turned scarlet: "I forgot, " hesaid, "I'm always putting my foot in it, with ladies. "

He was so painfully confused that Victoria felt herself suffering withhim, and longed to comfort him. 

"Please go on, Mr. Gaylord, " she said; "I am very much interested in myneighbours here, and I know that a great many of them think that therailroad meddles in politics. I've tried to find out what they think, butit is so difficult for a woman to understand. If matters are wrong, I'msure my father will right them when he knows the situation. He has somuch to attend to. " She paused. Tom was still mopping his forehead. "Youmay say anything you like to me, and I shall not take offence. "

Tom's admiration of her was heightened by this attitude. 

"Austen wouldn't join Mr. Crewe in his little game, anyway, " he said. "When Ham Tooting, Crewe's manager, came to him he kicked himdownstairs. "

Victoria burst out laughing. 

"I constantly hear of these ferocious deeds which Mr. Vane commits, " shesaid, "and yet he seems exceptionally good-natured and mild-mannered. "

"That's straight--he kicked him downstairs. Served Tooting right, too. "

"There does seem to have been an element of justice in it, " Victoriaremarked. 

"You haven't seen Austen since he left his father?" Mr. Gaylord inquired. 

"Left him! Where--has he gone?"

"Gone up to live with Jabe Jenney. If Austen cared anything about money, he never would have broken with the old man, who has some little putaway. "

"Why did he leave his father?" asked Victoria, not taking the trouble nowto conceal her interest. 

"Well, " said Tom, "you know they never did get along. It hasn't beenAusten's fault--he's tried. After he came back from the West he stayedhere to please old Hilary, when he might have gone to New York and made afortune at the law, with his brains. But after Austen saw the kind of lawthe old man practised he wouldn't stand for it, and got an office of hisown. "

Victoria's eyes grew serious. 

"What kind of law does Hilary Vane practise?" she asked. 

Tom hesitated and began to mop his forehead again. 

"Please don't mind me, " Victoria pleaded. 

"Well, all right, " said Tom, "I'll tell you the truth, or die for it. ButI don't want to make you-unhappy. "

"You will do me a kindness, Mr. Gaylord, " she said, "by telling me whatyou believe to be true. "

There was a note in her voice which young Tom did not understand. Afterwards, when he reflected about the matter, he wondered if she wereunhappy. 

"I don't want to blame Hilary too much, " he answered. "I know Austendon't. Hilary's grown up with that way of doing things, and in the olddays there was no other way. Hilary is the chief counsel for theNortheastern, and he runs the Republican organization in this State fortheir benefit. But Austen made up his mind that there was no reason whyhe should grow up that way. He says that a lawyer should keep to hisprofession, and not become a lobbyist in the interest of his clients. Helived with the old man until the other day, because he has a real softspot for him. Austen put up with a good deal. And then Hilary turnedloose on him and said a lot of things he couldn't stand. Austen didn'tanswer, but went up and packed his bags and made Hilary's housekeeperpromise to stay with him, or she'd have left, too. They say Hilary'ssorry, now. He's fond of Austen, but he can't get along with him. "

"Do--Do you know what they quarreled about?" asked Victoria, in a lowvoice. 

"This spring, " said Tom, "the Gaylord Lumber Company made Austen juniorcounsel. He ran across a law the other day that nobody else seems to havehad sense enough to discover, by which we can sue the railroad forexcessive freight rates. It means a lot of money. He went right in toHilary and showed him the section, told him that suit was going to bebrought, and offered to resign. Hilary flew off the track--and said if hedidn't bring suit he'd publish it all over the State that Austen startedit. Galusha Hammer, our senior counsel, is sick, and I don't think he'llever get well. That makes Austen senior counsel. But he persuaded oldTom, my father, not to bring this suit until after the politicalcampaign, until Mr. Crewe gets through with his fireworks. Hilary doesn'tknow that. "

"I see, " said Victoria. 

Down the hill, on the far side of the track, she perceived the two menapproaching with a horse; then she remembered the fact that she had beenthrown, and that it was her horse. She rose to her feet. 

"I'm ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Gaylord, " she said; "you have doneme a great favour by--telling me these things. And thanks for lettingthem catch the horse. I'm afraid I've put you to a lot of bother. "

"Not at all, " said Tom, "not at all. " He was studying her face. Itsexpression troubled and moved him strangely, for he was not an analyticalperson. "I didn't mean to tell you those things when I began, " heapologized, "but you wanted to hear them. "

"I wanted to hear them, " repeated Victoria. She held out her hand to him. 

"You're not going to ride home!" he exclaimed. "I'll take you up in mybuggy--it's in the station shed. "

She smiled, turned and questioned and thanked the men, examined thegirths and bridle, and stroked the five-year-old on the neck. He was wetfrom mane to fetlocks. 

"I don't think he'll care to run much farther, " she said. "If you'll pullhim over to the lumber pile, Mr. Gaylord, I'll mount him. "

They performed her bidding in silence, each paying her a tribute in histhoughts. As for the five-year-old, he was quiet enough by this time. When she was in the saddle she held out her hand once more to Tom. 

"I hope we shall meet soon again, " she said, and smiling back at him, started on her way towards Fairview. 

Tom stood for a moment looking after her, while the two men indulged insurprised comments. 

"Andrews, " said young Mr. Gaylord, "just fetch my buggy and follow heruntil she gets into the gate. "

CHAPTER XVIII

A SPIRIT IN THE WOODS

Empires crack before they crumble, and the first cracks seem easilymended--even as they have been mended before. A revolt in Gaul or Britainor Thrace is little to be minded, and a prophet in Judea less. And yetinto him who sits in the seat of power a premonition of somethingimpending gradually creeps--a premonition which he will not acknowledge, will not define. Yesterday, by the pointing of a finger, he created aprovince; to-day he dares not, but consoles himself by saying he does notwish to point. No antagonist worthy of his steel has openly defied him, worthy of recognition by the opposition of a legion. But the sense ofsecurity has been subtly and indefinably shaken. 

By the strange telepathy which defies language, to the Honourable HilaryVane, Governor of the Province, some such unacknowledged forebodings havelikewise been communicated. A week after his conversation with Austen, onthe return of his emperor from a trip to New York, the Honourable Hilarywas summoned again to the foot of the throne, and his thoughts as heclimbed the ridges towards Fairview were not in harmony with the carolsof the birds in the depths of the forest and the joy of the bright Juneweather. Loneliness he had felt before, and to its ills he had appliedthe antidote of labour. The burden that sat upon his spirit to-day wasnot mere loneliness; to the truth of this his soul attested, but HilaryVane had never listened to the promptings of his soul. He would have beenshocked if you had told him this. Did he not confess, with his eyes shut, his sins every Sunday? Did he not publicly acknowledge his soul?

Austen Vane had once remarked that, if some keen American lawyer wouldreally put his mind to the evasion of the Ten Commandments, the HighHeavens themselves might be cheated. This saying would have shocked theHonourable Hilary inexpressibly. He had never been employed by asyndicate to draw up papers to avoid these mandates; he revered them, ashe revered the Law, which he spelled with a capital. He spelled the wordSoul with a capital likewise, and certainly no higher recognition couldbe desired than this! Never in the Honourable Hilary's long, laborious, and preeminently model existence had he realized that happiness isharmony. It would not be true to assert that, on this wonderful June day, a glimmering of this truth dawned upon him. Such a statement would beopen to the charge of exaggeration, and his frame of mind waspessimistic. But he had got so far as to ask himself the question, --Cuibono? and repeated it several times on his drive, until a verse ofScripture came, unbidden, to his lips. "For what hate man of all hislabour, and of the vexation of his heart, wherein he hath laboured underthe sun?" and "there is one event unto all. " Austen's saying, that he hadnever learned how to enjoy life, he remembered, too. What had Austenmeant by that?

Hitherto Hilary Vane had never failed of self-justification in any eventwhich had befallen him; and while this consciousness of the rectitude ofhis own attitude had not made him happier, there had been a certain grimpleasure in it. To the fact that he had ruined, by sheerover-righteousness, the last years of the sunny life of Sarah Austen hehad been oblivious--until to-day. The strange, retrospective mood whichhad come over him this afternoon led his thoughts into strange paths, andhe found himself wondering if, after all, it had not been in his power tomake her happier. Her dryad-like face, with its sweet, elusive smile, seemed to peer at him now wistfully out of the forest, and suddenly a newand startling thought rose up within him--after six and thirty years. Perhaps she had belonged in the forest! Perhaps, because he had sought tocage her, she had pined and died! The thought gave Hilary unwonted pain, and he strove to put it away from him; but memories such as these, oncearoused, are not easily set at rest, and he bent his head as he recalled(with a new and significant pathos) those hopeless and pitiful flightsinto the wilds she loved. 

Now Austen had gone. Was there a Law behind these actions of mother andson which he had persisted in denouncing as vagaries? Austen was a man: aman, Hilary could not but see, who had the respect of his fellows, whosejudgment and talents were becoming recognized. Was it possible that he, Hilary Vane, could have been one of those referred to by the Preacher?During the week which had passed since Austen's departure the house inHanover Street had been haunted for Hilary. The going of his son had notleft a mere void, --that would have been pain enough. Ghosts were there, ghosts which he could but dimly feel and see, and more than once, in thelong evenings, he had taken to the streets to avoid them. 

In that week Hilary's fear of meeting his son in the street or in thepassages of the building had been equalled by a yearning to see him. Every morning, at the hour Austen was wont to drive Pepper to the RiptonHouse stables across the square, Hilary had contrived to be standing nearhis windows--a little back, and out of sight. And--stranger still!--hehad turned from these glimpses to the reports of the Honourable BrushBascom and his associates with a distaste he had never felt before. 

With some such thoughts as these Hilary Vane turned into the laststraight stretch of the avenue that led to Fairview House, with its redand white awnings gleaming in the morning sun. On the lawn, against awhite and purple mass of lilacs and the darker background of pines, astraight and infinitely graceful figure in white caught his eye and heldit. He recognized Victoria. She wore a simple summer gown, the softoutline of its flounces mingling subtly with the white clusters behindher. She turned her head at the sound of the wheels and looked at him;the distance was not too great for a bow, but Hilary did not bow. Something in her face deterred him from this act, --something which hehimself did not understand or define. He sought to pronounce the incidentnegligible. What was the girl, or her look, to him? And yet (he foundhimself strangely thinking) he had read in her eyes a trace of the riddlewhich had been relentlessly pursuing him; there was an odd relation inher look to that of Sarah Austen. During the long years he had beencoming to Fairview, even before the new house was built, when Victoriawas in pinafores, he had never understood her. When she was a child, hehad vaguely recognized in her a spirit antagonistic to his own, and hersayings had had a disconcerting ring. And now this simple glance of hershad troubled him--only more definitely. 

It was a new experience for the Honourable Hilary to go into a businessmeeting with his faculties astray. Absently he rang the stable bell, surrendered his horse, and followed a footman to the retired part of thehouse occupied by the railroad president. Entering the oak-bound sanctum, he crossed it and took a seat by the window, merely nodding to Mr. Flint, who was dictating a letter. Mr. Flint took his time about the letter, butwhen it was finished he dismissed the stenographer with an impatient andpowerful wave of the hand--as though brushing the man bodily out of theroom. Remaining motionless until the door had closed, Mr. Flint turnedabruptly and fixed his eyes on the contemplative figure of his chiefcounsel. 

"Well?" he said. 

"Well, Flint, " answered the Honourable Hilary. 

"Well, " said Mr. Flint, "that bridge over Maple River has got loosened upso by the freshet that we have to keep freight cars on it to hold itdown, and somebody is trying to make trouble by writing a public letterto the Railroad Commission, and calling attention to the head-oncollision at Barker's Station. "

"Well, " replied the Honourable Hilary, again, "that won't have anyinfluence on the Railroad Commission. "

"No, " said Mr. Flint, "but it all goes to increase this confounded publicsentiment that's in the air, like smallpox. Another jackass pretends tohave kept a table of the through trains on the Sumsic division, and saysthey've averaged forty-five minutes late at Edmundton. He says thethrough express made the run faster thirty years ago. "

"I guess that's so, " said the Honourable Hilary, "I was counsel for thatroad then. I read that letter. He says there isn't an engine on thedivision that could pull his hat off, up grade. "

Neither of the two gentlemen appeared to deem this statement humorous. 

"What these incendiaries don't understand, " said Mr. Flint, "is that wehave to pay dividends. "

"It's because they don't get 'em, " replied Mr. Vane, sententiously. 

"The track slid into the water at Glendale, " continued Mr. Flint. "Isuppose they'll tell us we ought to rock ballast that line. You'll seethe Railroad Commission, and give 'em a sketch of a report. "

"I had a talk with Young yesterday, " said Mr. Vane, his eyes on thestretch of lawn and forest framed by the window. For the sake of theignorant, it may be well to add that the Honourable Orrin Young was thechairman of the Commission. 

"And now, " said Mr. Flint, "not that this Crewe business amounts to that"(here the railroad president snapped his fingers with the intensity of asmall pistol shot), "but what's he been doing?"

"Political advertising, " said the Honourable Hilary. 

"Plenty of it, I guess, " Mr. Flint remarked acidly. "That's one thingTooting can't teach him. He's a natural-born genius at it. "

"Tooting can help--even at that, " answered Mr. Vane, ironically. "They'vegot a sketch of so-called Northeastern methods in forty weekly newspapersthis week, with a picture of that public benefactor and martyr, HumphreyCrewe. Here's a sample of it. "

Mr. Flint waved the sample away. 

"You've made a list of the newspapers that printed it?" Mr. Flintdemanded. Had he lived in another age he might have added, "Have themalefactors burned alive in my garden. "

"Brush has seen some of 'em, " said Mr. Vane, no doubt referring to theeditors, "and I had some of 'em come to Ripton. They've got a lot to sayabout the freedom of the press, and their right to take politicaladvertising. Crewe's matter is in the form of a despatch, and most of 'empointed out at the top of the editorial columns that their papers are notresponsible for despatches in the news columns. Six of 'em are out andout for Crewe, and those fellows are honest enough. "

"Take away their passes and advertising, " said Mr. Flint. ("Off withtheir heads!" said the Queen of Hearts. )

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Flint; they might make capital out ofit. I think you'll find that five of 'em have sent their passes back, anyway. "

"Freeman will give you some new ideas" (from the "Book of Arguments, "although Mr. Flint did not say so) "which have occurred to me might bedistributed for editorial purposes next week. And, by the way, what haveyou done about that brilliant Mr. Coombes of the 'Johnstown Ray, ' whosays 'the Northeastern Railroads give us a pretty good government'?"

The Honourable Hilary shook his head. 

"Too much zeal, " he observed. "I guess he won't do it again. "

For a while after that they talked of strictly legal matters, which thechief counsel produced in order out of his bag. But when these werefinally disposed of, Mr. Flint led the conversation back to theHonourable Humphrey Crewe, who stood harmless--to be sure--like a bull onthe track which it might be unwise to run over. 

"He doesn't amount to a soap bubble in a gale, " Mr. Flint declaredcontemptuously. "Sometimes I think we made a great mistake to notice him. 

"We haven't noticed him, " said Mr. Vane; "the newspapers have. "

Mr. Flint brushed this distinction aside. 

"That, " he said irritably, "and letting Tooting go--"

The Honourable Hilary's eyes began to grow red. In former days Mr. Flinthad not often questioned his judgment. 

"There's one thing more I wanted to mention to you, " said the chiefcounsel. "In past years I have frequently drawn your attention to thatsection of the act of consolidation which declares that rates and faresexisting at the time of its passage shall not be increased. "

"Well, " said Mr. Flint, impatiently, "well, what of it?"

"Only this, " replied the Honourable Hilary, "you disregarded my advice, and the rates on many things are higher than they were. "

"Upon my word, Vane, " said Mr. Flint, "I wish you'd chosen some other dayto croak. What do you want me to do? Put all the rates back because thisupstart politician Crewe is making a noise? Who's going to dig up thatsection?"

"Somebody has dug it up, " said Mr. Vane:

This was the last straw. 

"Speak out, man!" he cried. "What are you leading up to?"

"Just this, " answered the Honourable Hilary; "that the Gaylord LumberCompany are going to bring suit under that section. "

Mr. Flint rose, thrust his hands in his pockets, and paced the roomtwice. 

"Have they got a case?" he demanded. 

"It looks a little that way tome, " said Mr. Vane. "I'm not prepared togive a definite opinion as yet. "

Mr. Flint measured the room twice again. 

"Did that old fool Hammer stumble on to this?"

"Hammer's sick, " said Mr. Vane; "they say he's got Bright's disease. Myson discovered that section. "

There was a certain ring of pride in the Honourable Hilary's voice, and alifting of the head as he pronounced the words "my son, " which did notescape Mr. Flint. The railroad president walked slowly to the arm of thechair in which his chief counsel was seated, and stood looking down athim. But the Honourable Hilary appeared unconscious of what wasimpending. 

"Your son!" exclaimed Mr. Flint. "So your son, the son of the man who hasbeen my legal adviser and confidant and friend for thirty years, is goingto join the Crewel and Tootings in their assaults on established decencyand order! He's out for cheap political preferment, too, is he? Bythunder! I thought that he had some such thing in his mind when he camein here and threw his pass in my face and took that Meader suit. I don'tmind telling you that he's the man I've been afraid of all along. He'sgot a head on him--I saw that at the start. I trusted to you to controlhim, and this is how you do it. "

It was characteristic of the Honourable Hilary, when confronting an angryman, to grow cooler as the other's temper increased. 

"I don't want to control him, " he said. 

"I guess you couldn't, " retorted Mr. Flint. 

"That's a better way of putting it, " replied the Honourable Hilary, "Icouldn't. "

The chief counsel for the Northeastern Railroads got up and went to thewindow, where he stood for some time with his back turned to thepresident. Then Hilary Vane faced about. 

"Mr. Flint, " he began, in his peculiar deep and resonant voice, "you'vesaid some things to-day that I won't forget. I want to tell you, first ofall, that I admire my son. "

"I thought so, " Mr. Flint interrupted. 

"And more than that, " the Honourable Hilary continued, "I prophesy thatthe time will come when you'll admire him. Austen Vane never did anunderhanded thing in his life--or committed a mean action. He's be'nwild, but he's always told me the truth. I've done him injustice a goodmany times, but I won't stand up and listen to another man do himinjustice. " Here he paused, and picked up his bag. "I'm going down toRipton to write out my resignation as counsel for your roads, and as soonas you can find another man to act, I shall consider it accepted. "

It is difficult to put down on paper the sensations of the president ofthe Northeastern Railroads as he listened to these words from a man withwhom he had been in business relations for over a quarter of a century, aman upon whose judgment he had always relied implicitly, who had been astrong fortress in time of trouble. Such sentences had an incendiary, blasphemous ring on Hilary Vane's lips--at first. It was as if the skyhad fallen, and the Northeastern had been wiped out of existence. 

Mr. Flint's feelings were, in a sense, akin to those of a traveller bysea who wakens out of a sound sleep in his cabin, with peculiar andunpleasant sensations, which he gradually discovers are due to coldwater, and he realizes that the boat on which he is travelling issinking. 

The Honourable Hilary, with his bag, was halfway to the door, when Mr. Flint crossed the room in three strides and seized him by the arm. 

"Hold on, Vane, " he said, speaking with some difficulty; "I'm--I'm alittle upset this morning, and my temper got the best of me. You and Ihave been good friends for too many years for us to part this way. Sitdown a minute, for God's sake, and let's cool off. I didn't intend to saywhat I did. I apologize. "

Mr. Flint dropped his counsel's arm, and pulled out a handkerchief, andmopped his face. "Sit down, Hilary, " he said. 

The Honourable Hilary's tight lips trembled. Only three or four times intheir long friendship had the president made use of his first name. 

"You wouldn't leave me in the lurch now, Hilary, " Mr. Flint continued, "when all this nonsense is in the air? Think of the effect such anannouncement would have! Everybody knows and respects you, and we can'tdo without your advice and counsel. But I won't put it on that ground. I'd never forgive myself, as long as I lived, if I lost one of my oldestand most valued personal friends in this way. "

The Honourable Hilary looked at Mr. Flint, and sat down. He began to cuta piece of Honey Dew, but his hand shook. It was difficult, as we know, for him to give expression to his feelings. 

"All right, " he said. 

Half an hour later Victoria, from under the awning of the little balconyin front of her mother's sitting room, saw her father come out bareheadedinto the sun and escort the Honourable Hilary Vane to his buggy. This wasan unwonted proceeding. 

Victoria loved to sit in that balcony, a book lying neglected in her lap, listening to the summer sounds: the tinkle of distant cattle bells, thebass note of a hurrying bee, the strangely compelling song of thehermit-thrush, which made her breathe quickly; the summer wind, stirringwantonly, was prodigal with perfumes gathered from the pines and thesweet June clover in the fields and the banks of flowers; in thedistance, across the gentle foreground of the hills, Sawanec beckoned--did Victoria but raise her eyes!--to a land of enchantment. 

The appearance of her father and Hilary had broken her reverie, and a newthought, like a pain, had clutched her. The buggy rolled slowly down thedrive, and Mr. Flint, staring after it a moment, went in the house. Aftera few minutes he emerged again, an old felt hat on his head which he waswont to wear in the country and a stick in his hand. Without raising hiseyes, he started slowly across the lawn; and to Victoria, leaning forwardintently over the balcony rail, there seemed an unwonted lack of purposein his movements. Usually he struck out briskly in the direction of thepastures where his prize Guernseys were feeding, stopping on the way topick up the manager of his farm. There are signs, unknown to men, whichwomen read, and Victoria felt her heart beating, as she turned andentered the sitting room through the French window. A trained nurse wassoftly closing the door of the bedroom on the right. 

"Mrs. Flint is asleep, " she said. 

"I am going out for a little while, Miss Oliver, " Victoria answered, andthe nurse returned a gentle smile of understanding. 

Victoria, descending the stairs, hastily pinned on a hat which she keptin the coat closet, and hurried across the lawn in the direction Mr. Flint had taken. Reaching the pine grove, thinned by a famous landscapearchitect, she paused involuntarily to wonder again at the ultramarine ofSawanec through the upright columns of the trunks under the high canopyof boughs. The grove was on a plateau, which was cut on the side nearestthe mountain by the line of a gray stone wall, under which the land fellaway sharply. Mr. Flint was seated on a bench, his hands clasped acrosshis stick, and as she came softly over the carpet of the needles he didnot hear her until she stood beside him. 

"You didn't tell me that you were going for a walk, " she saidreproachfully. 

He started, and dropped his stick. She stooped quickly, picked it up forhim, and settled herself at his side. 

"I--I didn't expect to go, Victoria, " he answered. 

"You see, " she said, "it's useless to try to slip away. I saw you fromthe balcony. "

"How's your mother feeling?" he asked. 

"She's asleep. She seems better to me since she's come back to Fairview. "

Mr. Flint stared at the mountain with unseeing eyes. 

"Father, " said Victoria, "don't you think you ought to stay up here atleast a week, and rest? I think so. "

"No, " he said, "no. There's a directors' meeting of a trust companyto-morrow which I have to attend. I'm not tired. "

Victoria shook her head, smiling at him with serious eyes. 

"I don't believe you know when you are tired, " she declared. "I can't seethe good of all these directors' meetings. Why don't you retire, and livethe rest of your life in peace? You've got--money enough, and even if youhaven't, " she added, with the little quiver of earnestness that sometimescame into her voice, "we could sell this big house and go back to thefarmhouse to live. We used to be so happy there. "

He turned abruptly, and fixed upon her a steadfast, searching stare thatheld, nevertheless, a strange tenderness in it. 

"You don't care for all this, do you, Victoria?" he demanded, waving hisstick to indicate the domain of Fairview. 

She laughed gently, and raised her eyes to the green roof of the needles. 

"If we could only keep the pine grove!" she sighed. "Do you remember whatgood times we had in the farmhouse, when you and I used to go off forwhole days together?"

"Yes, " said Mr. Flint, "yes. "

"We don't do that any more, " said Victoria. "It's only a little drive anda walk, now and then. And they seem to be growing--scarcer. "

Mr. Flint moved uneasily, and made an attempt to clear his voice. 

"I know it, " he said, and further speech seemingly failed him. Victoriahad the greater courage of the two. 

"Why don't we?" she asked. 

"I've often thought of it, " he replied, still seeking his words withdifficulty. "I find myself with more to do every year, Victoria, insteadof less. "

"Then why don't you give it up?"

"Why?" he asked, "why? Sometimes I wish with my whole soul I could giveit up. I've always said that you had more sense than most women, but evenyou could not understand. "

"I could understand, " said Victoria. 

He threw at her another glance, --a ring in her words proclaimed theirtruth in spite of his determined doubt. In her eyes--had he but knownit!--was a wisdom that exceeded his. 

"You don't realize what you're saying, " he exclaimed; "I can't leave thehelm. "

"Isn't it, " she said, "rather the power that is so hard to relinquish?"

The feelings of Augustus Flint when he heard this question were of acomplex nature. It was the second time that day he had been shocked, --the first being when Hilary Vane had unexpectedly defended his son. Theword Victoria had used, power, had touched him on the quick. What had shemeant by it? Had she been his wife and not his daughter, he would haveflown into a rage. Augustus Flint was not a man given to thepsychological amusement of self-examination; he had never analyzed hismotives. He had had little to do with women, except Victoria. The Rose ofSharon knew him as the fountainhead from which authority and moneyflowed, but Victoria, since her childhood, had been his refuge from care, and in the haven of her companionship he had lost himself for briefmoments of his life. She was the one being he really loved, with whom heconsulted on such affairs of importance as he felt to be within her scopeand province, --the cattle, the men on the place outside of the household, the wisdom of buying the Baker farm; bequests to charities, paintings, the library; and recently he had left to her judgment the European bathsand the kind of treatment which her mother had required. Victoria hadconsulted with the physicians in Paris, and had made these decisionsherself. From a child she had never shown a disposition to evaderesponsibility. 

To his intimate business friends, Mr. Flint was in the habit of speakingof her as his right-hand man, but she was circumscribed by her sex, --orrather by Mr. Flint's idea of her sex, --and it never occurred to him thatshe could enter into the larger problems of his life. For this reason hehad never asked himself whether such a state of affairs would bedesirable. In reality it was her sympathy he craved, and such aninterpretation of himself as he chose to present to her. 

So her question was a shock. He suddenly beheld his daughter transformed, a new personality who had been thinking, and thinking along paths whichhe had never cared to travel. 

"The power!" he repeated. "What do you mean by that, Victoria?"

She sat for a moment on the end of the bench, gazing at him with aquestioning, searching look which he found disconcerting. What hadhappened to his daughter? He little guessed the tumult in her breast. Sheherself could not fully understand the strange turn the conversation hadtaken towards the gateway of the vital things. 

"It is natural for men to love power, isn't it?"

"I suppose so, " said Mr. Flint, uneasily. "I don't know what you'redriving at, Victoria. "

"You control the lives and fortunes of a great many people. "

"That's just it, " answered Mr. Flint, with a dash at this opening; "myresponsibilities are tremendous. I can't relinquish them. "

"There is no--younger man to take your place? Not that I mean you areold, father, " she continued, "but you have worked very hard all yourlife, and deserve a holiday the rest of it. "

"I don't know of any younger man, " said Mr. Flint. "I don't mean to sayI'm the only person in the world who can safeguard the stockholders'interests in the Northeastern. But I know the road and its problems. Idon't understand this from you, Victoria. It doesn't sound like you. Andas for letting go the helm now, " he added, with a short laugh tinged withbitterness, "I'd be posted all over the country as a coward. "

"Why?" asked Victoria, in the same quiet way. 

"Why? Because a lot of discontented and disappointed people who have madefailures of their lives are trying to give me as much trouble as theycan. "

"Are you sure they are all disappointed and discontented, father?" shesaid. 

"What, " exclaimed Mr. Flint, "you ask me that question? You, my owndaughter, about people who are trying to make me out a rascal!"

"I don't think they are trying to make you out a rascal--at least most ofthem are not, " said Victoria. "I don't think the--what you might call thepersonal aspect enters in with the honest ones. "

Mr. Flint was inexpressibly amazed. He drew a long breath. 

"Who are the honest ones?" he cried. "Do you mean to say that you, my owndaughter, are defending these charlatans?"

"Listen, father, " said Victoria. "I didn't mean to worry you, I didn'tmean to bring up that subject to-day. Come--let's go for a walk and seethe new barn. "

But Mr. Flint remained firmly planted on the bench. 

"Then you did intend to bring up the subject--some day?" he asked. 

"Yes, " said Victoria. She sat down again. "I have often wanted to hear--your side of it. "

"Whose side have you heard?" demanded Mr. Flint. 

A crimson flush crept into her cheek, but her father was too disturbed tonotice it. 

"You know, " she said gently, "I go about the country a good deal, and Ihear people talking, --farmers, and labourers, and people in the countrystores who don't know that I'm your daughter. "

"What do they say?" asked Mr. Flint, leaning forward eagerly andaggressively. 

Victoria hesitated, turning over the matter in her mind. 

"You understand, I am merely repeating what they say--"

"Yes, yes, " he interrupted, "I want to know how far this thing has goneamong them. "

"Well, " continued Victoria, looking at him bravely, "as nearly as I canremember their argument it is this: that the Northeastern Railroadscontrol the politics of the State for their own benefit. That you appointthe governors and those that go to the Legislature, and that--HilaryVane gets them elected. They say that he manages a politicalmachine--that's the right word, isn't it?--for you. And that no laws canbe passed of which you do not approve. And they say that the politicianswhom Hilary Vane commands, and the men whom they put into office are allbeholden to the railroad, and are of a sort which good citizens cannotsupport. They say that the railroad has destroyed the people'sgovernment. "

Mr. Flint, for the moment forgetting or ignoring the charges, glanced ather in astonishment. The arraignment betrayed an amount of thought on thesubject which he had not suspected. 

"Upon my word, Victoria, " he said, "you ought to take the stump forHumphrey Crewe. "

She reached out with a womanly gesture, and laid her hand upon his. 

"I am only telling you--what I hear, " she said. 

"Won't you explain to me the way you look at it? These people don't allseem to be dishonest men or charlatans. Some of them, I know, arehonest. " And her colour rose again. 

"Then they are dupes and fools, " Mr. Flint declared vehemently. "I don'tknow how to explain it to you the subject is too vast, too far-reaching. One must have had some business experience to grasp it. I don't mean tosay you're not intelligent, but I'm at a loss where to begin with you. Looked at from their limited point of view, it would seem as if they hada case. I don't mean your friend, Humphrey Crewe--it's anything to getoffice with him. Why, he came up here and begged me--"

"I wasn't thinking of Humphrey Crewe, " said Victoria. Mr. Flint gave anejaculation of distaste. 

"He's no more of a reformer than I am. And now we've got that wild son ofHilary Vane's--the son of one of my oldest friends and associates--making trouble. He's bitten with this thing, too, and he's got somebrains in his head. Why, " exclaimed Mr. Flint, stopping abruptly andfacing his daughter, "you know him! He's the one who drove you home thatevening from Crewe's party. "

"I remember, " Victoria faltered, drawing her hand away. 

"I wasn't very civil to him that night, but I've always been on thelookout for him. I sent him a pass once, and he came up here and gave meas insolent a talking to as I ever had in my life. "

How well Victoria recalled that first visit, and how she had wonderedabout the cause of it! So her father and Austen Vane had quarrelled fromthe first. 

"I'm sure he didn't mean to be insolent, " she said, in a low voice. "Heisn't at all that sort. "

"I don't know what sort he is, except that he isn't my sort, " Mr. Flintretorted, intent upon the subject which had kindled his anger earlier inthe day. "I don't pretend to understand him. He could probably have beencounsel for the road if he had behaved decently. Instead, he starts inwith suits against us. He's hit upon something now. "

The president of the Northeastern dug savagely into the ground with hisstick, and suddenly perceived that his daughter had her face turned awayfrom his, towards the mountain. 

"Well, I won't bore you with that. "

She turned with a look in her eyes that bewildered him. 

"You're not--boring me, " she said. 

"I didn't intend to go into all that, " he explained more calmly, "but thelast few days have been trying, we've got to expect the wind to blow fromall directions. "

Victoria smiled at him faintly. 

"I have told you, " she said, "that what you need is a trip abroad. Perhaps some day you will remember it. "

"Maybe I'll go in the autumn, " he answered, smiling back at her. "Theselittle flurries don't amount to anything more than mosquito-bites--onlymosquitoes are irritating. You and I understand each other, Victoria, andnow listen. I'll give you the broad view of this subject, the view I'vegot to take, and I've lived in the world and seen more of it than somefolks who think they know it all. I am virtually the trustee forthousands of stockholders, many of whom are widows and orphans. Thesepeople are innocent; they rely on my ability, and my honesty, for theirincomes. Few men who have not had experience in railroad management knowone-tenth of the difficulties and obstructions encountered by a railroadpresident who strives to do his duty by the road. My business is to runthe Northeastern as economically as is consistent with good service andsafety, and to give the stockholders the best return for their money. Iam the steward--and so long as I am the steward, " he exclaimed, "I'mgoing to do what I think is right, taking into consideration all thedifficulties that confront me. "

He got up and took a turn or two on the pine-needles. Victoria regardedhim in silence. He appeared to her at that moment the embodiment of thepower he represented. Force seemed to emanate from him, and sheunderstood more clearly than ever how, from a poor boy on an obscure farmin Truro, he had risen to his present height. 

"I don't say the service is what it should be, " he went on, "but give metime--give me time. With all this prosperity in the country we can'thandle the freight. We haven't got cars enough, tracks enough, enginesenough. I won't go into that with you. But I do expect you to understandthis: that politicians are politicians; they have always been corrupt aslong as I have known them, and in my opinion they always will be. TheNortheastern is the largest property holder in the State, pays thebiggest tax, and has the most at stake. The politicians could ruin us ina single session of the Legislature--and what's more, they would do it. We'd have to be paying blackmail all the time to prevent measures thatwould compel us to go out of business. This is a fact, and not a theory. What little influence I exert politically I have to maintain in order toprotect the property of my stockholders from annihilation. It isn't to besupposed, " he concluded, "that I'm going to see the State turned over toa man like Humphrey Crewe. I wish to Heaven that this and every otherState had a George Washington for governor and a majority of RobertMorrises in the Legislature. If they exist, in these days, the peoplewon't elect 'em--that's all. The kind of man the people will elect, ifyou let 'em alone, is--a man who brings in a bill and comes to youprivately and wants you to buy him off. "

"Oh, father, " Victoria cried, "I can't believe that of the people I seeabout here! They seem so kind and honest and high-principled. "

Mr. Flint gave a short laugh. 

"They're dupes, I tell you. They're at the mercy of any political schemerwho thinks it worth his while to fool 'em. Take Leith, for instance. There's a man over there who has controlled every office in that town fortwenty-five years or more. He buys and sells votes and credentials likecattle. His name is Job Braden. "

"Why, " said Victoria, I saw him at Humphrey Crewe's garden-party. "

"I guess you did, " said Mr. Flint, "and I guess Humphrey Crewe saw himbefore he went. "

Victoria was silent, the recollection of the talk between Mr. Tooting andMr. Crewe running through her mind, and Mr. Tooting's saying that he haddone "dirty things" for the Northeastern. She felt that this wassomething she could not tell her father, nor could she answer hisargument with what Tom Gaylord had said. She could not, indeed, answerMr. Flint's argument at all; the subject, as he had declared, being toovast for her. And moreover, as she well knew, Mr. Flint was a man whomother men could not easily answer; he bore them down, even as he hadborne her down. Involuntarily her mind turned to Austen, and she wonderedwhat he had said; she wondered how he would have answered herfather--whether he could have answered him. And she knew not what tothink. Could it be right, in a position of power and responsibility, toacknowledge evil and deal with it as evil? That was, in effect, the gistof Mr. Flint's contention. She did not know. She had never (strangelyenough, she thought) sought before to analyze the ethical side of herfather's character. One aspect of him she had shared with her mother, that he was a tower of defence and strength, and that his name alone hadoften been sufficient to get difficult things done. 

Was he right in this? And were his opponents charlatans, or dupes, oridealists who could never be effective? Mr. Crewe wanted an office; TomGaylord had a suit against the road, and Austen Vane was going to bringthat suit! What did she really know of Austen Vane? But her soul criedout treason at this, and she found herself repeating, with intensity, "Ibelieve in him! I believe in him!" She would have given worlds to havebeen able to stand up before her father and tell him that Austen wouldnot bring the suit at this time that Austen had not allowed his name tobe mentioned for office in this connection, and had spurned Mr. Crewe'sadvances. But she had not seen Austen since February. 

What was his side of it? He had never told her, and she respected hismotives--yet, what was his side? Fresh from the inevitably deepimpressions which her father's personality had stamped upon her, shewondered if Austen could cope with the argument before which she had beenso helpless. 

The fact that she made of each of these two men the embodiment of adifferent and opposed idea did not occur to Victoria until thatafternoon. Unconsciously, each had impersonated the combatants in astruggle which was going on in her own breast. Her father himself, instinctively, had chosen Austen Vane for his antagonist without knowingthat she had an interest in him. Would Mr. Flint ever know? Or would thetime come when she would be forced to take a side? The blood mounted toher temples as she put the question from her. 

CHAPTER XIX

MR. JABE JENNEY ENTERTAINS

Mr. Flint had dropped the subject with his last remark, nor had Victoriaattempted to pursue it. Bewildered and not a little depressed (a newexperience for her), she had tried to hide her feelings. He, too, washarassed and tired, and she had drawn him away from the bench and throughthe pine woods to the pastures to look at his cattle and the model barnhe was building for them. At half-past three, in her runabout, she haddriven him to the East Tunbridge station, where he had taken the trainfor New York. He had waved her a good-by from the platform, and smiled:and for a long time, as she drove through the silent roads, his words andhis manner remained as vivid as though he were still by her side. He wasa man who had fought and conquered, and who fought on for the sheer loveof it. 

It was a blue day in the hill country. At noon the clouds had crownedSawanec--a sure sign of rain; the rain had come and gone, a Junedownpour, and the overcast sky lent (Victoria fancied) to thecountry-side a new atmosphere. The hills did not look the same. It wasthe kind of a day when certain finished country places are at theirbest--or rather seem best to express their meaning; a day for an event; aday set strangely apart with an indefinable distinction. Victoriarecalled such days in her youth when weddings or garden-parties hadbrought canopies into service, or news had arrived to upset the routineof the household. Raindrops silvered the pines, and the light winds shookthem down on the road in a musical shower. 

Victoria was troubled, as she drove, over a question which had recurredto her many times since her talk that morning: had she been hypocriticalin not telling her father that she had seen more of Austen Vane than shehad implied by her silence? For many years Victoria had chosen her owncompanions; when the custom had begun, her mother had made a protestwhich Mr. Flint had answered with a laugh; he thought Victoria's judgmentbetter than his wife's. Ever since that time the Rose of Sharon had takenthe attitude of having washed her hands of responsibility for a coursewhich must inevitably lead to ruin. She discussed some of Victoria'sacquaintances with Mrs. Pomfret and other intimates; and Mrs. Pomfret hadlost no time in telling Mrs. Flint about her daughter's sleigh-ride atthe State capital with a young man from Ripton who seemed to be seeingentirely too much of Victoria. Mrs. Pomfret had marked certain dangersigns, and as a conscientious woman was obliged to speak of them. Mrs. Pomfret did not wish to see Victoria make a mesalliance. 

"My dear Fanny, " Mrs. Flint had cried, lifting herself from the lacepillows, "what do you expect me to do especially when I have nervousprostration? I've tried to do my duty by Victoria--goodness knows--tobring her up--among the sons and daughters of the people who are myfriends. They tell me that she has temperament--whatever that may be. I'msure I never found out, except that the best thing to do with people whohave it is to let them alone and pray for them. When we go abroad I likethe Ritz and Claridge's and that new hotel in Rome. I see my friendsthere. Victoria, if you please, likes the little hotels in the narrowstreets where you see nobody, and where you are most uncomfortable. "(Miss Oliver, it's time for those seven drops. ) "As I was saying, Victoria's enigmatical hopeless, although a French comtesse who wouldn'tlook at anybody at the baths this spring became wild about her, and acertain type of elderly English peer always wants to marry her. (Isuppose I do look pale to-day. ) Victoria loves art, and really knowssomething about it. She adores to potter around those queer places abroadwhere you see strange English and Germans and Americans with red books intheir hands. What am I to do about this young man of whom youspeak--whatever his name is? I suppose Victoria will marry him--it wouldbe just like her. But what can I do, Fanny? I can't manage her, and it'sno use going to her father. He would only laugh. Augustus actually toldme once there was no such thing as social position in this country!"

"American men of affairs, " Mrs. Pomfret judicially replied, "are too busyto consider position. They make it, my dear, as a by-product. " Mrs. Pomfret smiled, and mentally noted this aptly technical witticism for useagain. 

"I suppose they do, " assented the Rose of Sharon, "and their daughterssometimes squander it, just as their sons squander their money. "

"I'm not at all sure that Victoria is going to squander it, " was Mrs. Pomfret's comforting remark. "She is too much of a personage, and she hasgreat wealth behind her. I wish Alice were more like her, in some ways. Alice is so helpless, she has to be prodded and prompted continually. Ican't leave her for a moment. And when she is married, I'm going into asanatorium for six months. "

"I hear, " said Mrs. Flint, "that Humphrey Crewe is quite epris. "

"Poor dear Humphrey!" exclaimed Mrs. Pomfret, "he can think of nothingelse but politics. "

But we are not to take up again, as yet, the deeds of the crafty Ulysses. In order to relate an important conversation between Mrs. Pomfret and theRose of Sharon, we have gone back a week in this history, and have leftVictoria--absorbed in her thoughts--driving over a wood road of manypuddles that led to the Four Corners, near Avalon. The road climbed thesong-laden valley of a brook, redolent now with scents of which the rainhad robbed the fern, but at length Victoria reached an upland where theyoung corn was springing from the, black furrows that followed thecontours of the hillsides, where the big-eyed cattle lay under the heavymaples and oaks or gazed at her across the fences. 

Victoria drew up in front of an unpainted farm-house straggling besidethe road, a farm-house which began with the dignity of fluted pilastersand ended in a tumble-down open shed filled with a rusty sleigh and ahundred nondescript articles--some of which seemed to be moving. Intentlystudying this phenomenon from her runabout, she finally discovered thatthe moving objects were children; one of whom, a little girl, came outand stared at her. 

"How do you do, Mary?" said Victoria. "Isn't your name Mary?"

The child nodded. 

"I remember you, " she said; "you're the rich lady, mother met at theparty, that got father a job. "

Victoria smiled. And such was the potency of the smile that the childjoined in it. 

"Where's brother?" asked Victoria. "He must be quite grown up since wegave him lemonade. "

Mary pointed to the woodshed. 

"O dear!" exclaimed Victoria, leaping out of the runabout and hitchingher horse, "aren't you afraid some of those sharp iron things will fallon him?" She herself rescued brother from what seemed untimely andcertain death, and set him down in safety in the middle of the grassplot. He looked up at her with the air of one whose dignity has beenirretrievably injured, and she laughed as she reached down and pulled hisnose. Then his face, too, became wreathed in smiles. 

"Mary, how old are you?"

"Seven, ma'am. "

"And I'm five, " Mary's sister chimed in. 

"I want you to promise me, " said Victoria, "that you won't let brotherplay in that shed. And the very next time I come I'll bring you both thenicest thing I can think of. "

Mary began to dance. 

"We'll promise, we'll promise!" she cried for both, and at this junctureMrs. Fitch, who had run from the washtub to get into her Sunday waist, came out of the door. 

"So you hain't forgot me!" she exclaimed. "I was almost afeard you'dforgot me. "

"I've been away, " said Victoria, gently taking the woman's hand andsitting down on the doorstep. 

"Don't set there, " said Mrs. Fitch; "come into the parlour. You'll dirtyyour dress--Mary!" This last in admonition. 

"Let her stay where she is, " said Victoria, putting her arm around thechild. "The dress washes, and it's so nice outside. "

"You rich folks certainly do have strange notions, " declared Mrs. Fitch, fingering the flounce on Victoria's skirt, which formed the subject ofconversation for the next few minutes. 

"How are you getting on?" Victoria asked at length. 

A look of pain came into the woman's eyes. 

"You've be'n so good to us, and done so much gettin' Eben a job on yourfather's place, that I don't feel as if I ought to lie to you. He done itagain--on Saturday night. First time in three months. The manager up atFairview don't know it. Eben was all right Monday. "

"I'm sorry, " said Victoria, simply. "Was it bad?"

"It might have be'n. Young Mr. Vane is stayin' up at Jabe Jenney's--youknow, the first house as you turn off the hill road. Mr. Vane heard someway what you'd done for us, and he saw Eben in Ripton Saturday night, andmade him get into his buggy and come home. I guess he had a time withEben. Mr. Vane, he came around here on Sunday, and gave him as stiff atalkin' to as he ever got, I guess. He told Eben he'd ought to be ashamedof himself goin' back on folks who was tryin' to help him pay hismortgage. And I'll say this for Eben, he was downright ashamed. He toldMr. Vane he could lick him if he caught him drunk again, and Mr. Vanesaid he would. My, what a pretty colour you've got to-day. "

Victoria rose. "I'm going to send you down some washing, " she said. 

Mrs. Fitch insisted upon untying the horse, while Victoria renewed herpromises to the children. 

There were two ways of going back to Fairview, --a long and a short way, --and the long way led by Jabe Jenney's farm. Victoria came to the forkin the road, paused, --and took the long way. Several times after this, she pulled her horse down to a walk, and was apparently on the point ofturning around again: a disinterested observer in a farm wagon, whom shepassed, thought that she had missed her road. "The first house after youturn off the hill road, " Mrs. Fitch had said. She could still, of course, keep on the hill road, but that would take her to Weymouth, and she wouldnever get home. 

It is useless to go into the reasons for this act of Victoria's. She didnot know them herself. The nearer Victoria got to Mr. Jenney's, the moreshe wished herself back at the forks. Suppose Mrs. Fitch told him of hervisit! Perhaps she could pass the Jenneys' unnoticed. The chances ofthis, indeed, seemed highly favourable, and it was characteristic of hersex that she began to pray fervently to this end. Then she turned off thehill road, feeling as though she had but to look back to see the smoke ofthe burning bridges. 

Victoria remembered the farm now; for Mr. Jabe Jenney, being a person ofimportance in the town of Leith, had a house commensurate with hisestate. The house was not large, but its dignity was akin to Mr. Jenney'sposition: it was painted a spotless white, and not a shingle or a nailwas out of place. Before it stood the great trees planted by Mr. Jenney'sancestors, which Victoria and other people had often paused on theirdrives to admire, and on the hillside was a little, old-fashioned flowergarden; lilacs clustered about the small-paned windows, and abitter-sweet clung to the roof and pillars of the porch. These details ofthe place (which she had never before known as Mr. Jenney's) flashed intoVictoria's mind before she caught sight of the great trees themselveslooming against the sombre blue-black of the sky: the wind, risingfitfully, stirred the leaves with a sound like falling waters, and agreat drop fell upon her cheek. Victoria raised her eyes in alarm, andacross the open spaces, toward the hills which piled higher and higheryet against the sky, was a white veil of rain. She touched with her whipthe shoulder of her horse, recalling a farm a quarter of a mile beyond--she must not be caught here!

More drops followed, and the great trees seemed to reach out to her aprotecting shelter. She spoke to the horse. Beyond the farm-house, on theother side of the road, was a group of gray, slate-shingled barns, andhere two figures confronted her. One was that of the comfortable, middle-aged Mr. Jenney himself, standing on the threshold of the barn, and laughing heartily, and crying: "Hang on to him That's right--get himby the nose!"

The person thus addressed had led a young horse to water at the springwhich bubbled out of a sugar-kettle hard by; and the horse, quivering, had barely touched his nostrils to the water when he reared backward, jerking the halter-rope taut. Then followed, with bewildering rapidity, aseries of manoeuvres on the part of the horse to get away, and on thepart of the person to prevent this, and inasmuch as the struggle tookplace in the middle of the road, Victoria had to stop. By the time theperson had got the horse by the nose, --shutting off his wind, --the rainwas coming down in earnest. 

"Drive right in, " cried Mr. Jenney, hospitably; "you'll get wet. Lookout, Austen, there's a lady comin'. Why, it's Miss Flint!"

Victoria knew that her face must be on fire. She felt Austen Vane's quickglance upon her, but she did not dare look to the right or left as shedrove into the barn. There seemed no excuse for any other course. 

"How be you?" said Mr. Jenney; "kind of lucky you happened along here, wahn't it? You'd have been soaked before you got to Harris's. How be you?I ain't seen you since that highfalutin party up to Crewe's. "

"It's very kind of you to let me come in, Mr. Jenney. "

"But I have a rain-coat and a boot, and--I really ought to be going on. "

Here Victoria produced the rain-coat from under the seat. The garment wasa dark blue, and Mr. Jenney felt of its gossamer weight with agood-natured contempt. 

"That wouldn't be any more good than so much cheesecloth, " he declared, nodding in the direction of the white sheet of the storm. "Would it, Austen. "

She turned her head slowly and met Austen's eyes. Fortunate that the barnwas darkened, that he might not see how deep the colour mantling in hertemples! His head was bare, and she had never really marked before thesuperb setting of it on his shoulders, for he wore a gray flannel shirtopen at the neck, revealing a bronzed throat. His sinewy arms--weather-burned, too--were bare above the elbows. 

Explanations of her presence sprang to her lips, but she put them fromher as subterfuges unworthy of him. She would not attempt to deceive himin the least. She had wished to see him again--nor did she analyze hermotives. Once more beside him, the feeling of confidence, of belief inhim, rose within her and swept all else away--burned in a swift consumingflame the doubts of absence. He took her hand, but she withdrew itquickly. 

"This is a fortunate accident, " he said, "fortunate, at least, for me. "

"Perhaps Mr. Jenney will not agree with you, " she retorted. 

But Mr. Jenney was hitching the horse and throwing a blanket over him. Suddenly, before they realized it, the farmer had vanished into thestorm, and this unexplained desertion of their host gave rise to anawkward silence between them, which each for a while strove vainly tobreak. In the great moments of life, trivialities become dwarfed andludicrous, and the burden of such occasions is on the woman. 

"So you've taken to farming, " she said, -"isn't it about haying time?"

He laughed. 

"We begin next week. And you--you've come back in season for it. I hopethat your mother is better. "

"Yes, " replied Victoria, simply, "the baths helped her. But I'm glad toget back, --I like my own country so much better, --and especially thispart of it, " she added. "I can bear to be away from New York in thewinter, but not from Fairview in the summer. "

At this instant Mr. Jenney appeared at the barn door bearing a huge greenumbrella. 

"Come over to the house--Mis' Jenney is expectin' you, " he said. 

Victoria hesitated. To refuse would be ungracious; moreover, she couldrisk no misinterpretation of her acts, and she accepted. Mrs. Jenney mether on the doorstep, and conducted her into that sanctum reserved foroccasions, the parlour, with its Bible, its flat, old-fashioned piano, its samplers, its crayon portrait of Mr. And Mrs. Jenney after theirhoneymoon; with its aroma that suggested Sundays and best manners. Mrs. Jenney, with incredible rapidity (for her figure was not what it had beenat the time of the crayon portrait), had got into a black dress, overwhich she wore a spotless apron. She sat in the parlour with her guestuntil Mr. Jenney reappeared with shining face and damp hair. 

"You'll excuse me, my dear, " said Mrs. Jenney, "but the supper's on thestove, and I have to run out now and then. "

Mr. Jenney was entertaining. He had the shrewd, humorous outlook uponlife characteristic of the best type of New England farmer, and Victoriagot along with him famously. His comments upon his neighbours were kindlybut incisive, except when the question of spirituous liquors occurred tohim. Austen Vane he thought the world of, and dwelt upon this subject alittle longer than Victoria, under the circumstances, would have wished. 

"He comes out here just like it was home, " said Mr. Jenney, "and helpswith the horses and cows the same as if he wasn't gettin' to be one ofthe greatest lawyers in the State. "

"O dear, Mr. Jenney, " said Victoria, glancing out of the window, "I'llreally have to go home. I'm sure it won't stop raining for hours. But Ishall be perfectly dry in my rain-coat, --no matter how much you maydespise it. "

"You're not a-going to do anything of the kind, " cried Mrs. Jenney fromthe doorway. "Supper's all ready, and you're going to walk right in. "

"Oh, I really have to go, " Victoria exclaimed. 

"Now I know it ain't as grand as you'd get at home, " said Mr. Jenney. "It ain't what we'd give you, Miss Victoria, --that's only simple homefare, --it's what you'd give us. It's the honour of having you, " headded, --and Victoria thought that no courtier could have worded aninvitation better. She would not be missed at Fairview. Her mother wasinaccessible at this hour, and the servants would think of her as diningat Leith. The picture of the great, lonely house, of the ceremoniousdinner which awaited her single presence, gave her an irresistiblelonging to sit down with these simple, kindly souls. Austen was the onlyobstacle. He, too, had changed his clothes, and now appeared, smiling ather behind Mrs. Jenney. The look of prospective disappointment in thegood woman's face decided Victoria. 

"I'll stay, with pleasure, " she said. 

Mr. Jenney pronounced grace. Victoria sat across the table from Austen, and several times the consciousness of his grave look upon her as shetalked heightened the colour in her cheek. He said but little during themeal. Victoria heard how well Mrs. Jenney's oldest son was doing inSpringfield, and how the unmarried daughter was teaching, now, in theWest. Asked about Europe, that land of perpetual mystery to the nativeAmerican, the girl spoke so simply and vividly of some of the wonders shehad seen that she held the older people entranced long after the meal wasfinished. But at length she observed, with a start, the gatheringdarkness. In the momentary happiness of this experience, she had beenforgetful. 

"I will drive home with you, if you'll allow me, " said Austen. 

"Oh, no, I really don't need an escort, Mr. Vane. I'm so used to drivingabout at night, I never think of it, " she answered. 

"Of course he'll drive home with you, dear, " said Mrs. Jenney. "And, Jabe, you'll hitch up and go and fetch Austen back. "

"Certain, " Mr. Jenney agreed. 

The rain had ceased, and the indistinct outline of the trees and fencesbetrayed the fact that the clouds were already thinning under the moon. Austen had lighted the side lamps of the runabout, revealing the shiningpools on the road as they drove along--for the first few minutes insilence. 

"It was very good of you to stay, " he said; "you do not know how muchpleasure you have given them. "

Her feminine appreciation responded to the tact of this remark: it was sodistinctly what he should have said. 

How delicate, she thought, must be his understanding of her, that heshould have spoken so!

"I was glad to stay, " she answered, in a low voice. "I--enjoyed it, too. "

"They have very little in their lives, " he said, and added, with acharacteristic touch, "I do not mean to say that your coming would not bean event in any household. "

She laughed with him, softly, at this sally. 

"Not to speak of the visit you are making them, " she replied. 

"Oh, I'm one of the family, " he said; "I come and go. Jabe's is mycountry house, when I can't stand the city any longer. "

She saw that he did not intend to tell her why he had left Ripton on thisoccasion. There fell another silence. They were like prisoners, and eachstrove to explore the bounds of their captivity: each sought a lawfulground of communication. Victoria suddenly remembered--with an access ofindignation--her father's words, "I do not know what sort he is, but heis not my sort. " A while ago, and she had blamed herself vehemently forcoming to Jabe Jenney's, and now the act had suddenly become sanctifiedin her sight. She did not analyze her feeling for Austen, but she wasconsumed with a fierce desire that justice should be done him. "He washonourable--honourable!" she found herself repeating under her breath. Noman or woman could look into his face, take his hand, sit by his side, without feeling that he was as dependable as the stars in their courses. And her father should know this, must be made to know it. This man was tobe distinguished from opportunists and self-seekers, from fanatics whostrike at random. His chief possession was a priceless one--a conscience. 

As for Austen, it sufficed him for the moment that he had been lifted, byanother seeming caprice of fortune, to a seat of torture the agonywhereof was exquisite. An hour, and only the ceaseless pricking memory ofit would abide. The barriers had risen higher since he had seen her last, but still he might look into her face and know the radiance of herpresence. Could he only trust himself to guard his tongue! But the hearton such occasions will cheat language of its meaning. 

"What have you been doing since I saw you last?" she asked. "It seemsthat you still continue to lead a life of violence. "

"Sometimes I wish I did, " he answered, with a laugh; "the humdrumexistence of getting practice enough to keep a horse is not the mostexciting in the world. To what particular deed of violence do you refer?"

"The last achievement, which is in every one's mouth, that of assistingMr. Tooting down-stairs. "

"I have been defamed, " Austen laughed; "he fell down, I believe. But as Ihave a somewhat evil reputation, and as he came out of my entry, peopledraw their own conclusions. I can't imagine who told you that story. "

"Never mind, " she answered. "You see, I have certain sources ofinformation about you. "

He tingled over this, and puzzled over it so long that she laughed. 

"Does that surprise you?" she asked. "I fail to see why I should beexpected to lose all interest in my friends--even if they appear to havelost interest in me. "

"Oh, don't say that!" he cried so sharply that she wished her wordsunsaid. "You can't mean it! You don't know!"

She trembled at the vigorous passion he put into the words. 

"No, I don't mean it, " she said gently. 

The wind had made a rent in the sheet of the clouds, and through it burstthe moon in her full glory, flooding field and pasture, and the blackstretches of pine forest at their feet. Below them the land fell away, and fell again to the distant broadening valley, to where a mist of whitevapour hid the course of the Blue. And beyond, the hills rose again, tierupon tier, to the shadowy outline of Sawanec herself against the hurryingclouds and the light-washed sky. Victoria, gazing at the scene, drew adeep breath, and turned and looked at him in the quick way which heremembered so well. 

"Sometimes, " she said, "it is so beautiful that it hurts to look at it. You love it--do you ever feel that way?"

"Yes, " he said, but his answer was more than the monosyllable. "I can seethat mountain from my window, and it seriously interferes with my work. Ireally ought to move into another building. "

There was a little catch in her laugh. 

"And I watch it, " she continued, "I watch it from the pine grove by thehour. Sometimes it smiles, and sometimes it is sad, and sometimes it isfar, far away, so remote and mysterious that I wonder if it is ever tocome back and smile again. "

"Have you ever seen the sunrise from its peak?" said Austen. 

"No. Oh, how I should love to see it!" she exclaimed. 

"Yes, you would like to see it, " he answered simply. He would like totake her there, to climb, with her hand in his, the well-known paths inthe darkness, to reach the summit in the rosy-fingered dawn: to see herstand on the granite at his side in the full glory of the red light, andto show her a world which she was henceforth to share with him. 

Some such image, some such vision of his figure on the rock, may havebeen in her mind as she turned her face again toward the mountain. 

"You are cold, " he said, reaching for the mackintosh in the back of thetrap. 

"No, " she said. But she stopped the horse and acquiesced by slipping herarms into the coat, and he felt upon his hand the caress of a stray wispof hair at her neck. Under a spell of thought and feeling, seemingly laidby the magic of the night, neither spoke for a space. And then Victoriasummoned her forces, and turned to him again. Her tone bespoke the subtleintimacy that always sprang up between them, despite bars andconventions. 

"I was sure you would understand why I wrote you from New York, " shesaid, "although I hesitated a long time before doing so. It was verystupid of me not to realize the scruples which made you refuse to be acandidate for the governorship, and I wanted to--to apologize. "

"It wasn't necessary, " said Austen, "but--I valued the note. " The wordsseemed so absurdly inadequate to express his appreciation of the treasurewhich he carried with him, at that moment, in his pocket. "But, really, "he added, smiling at her in the moonlight, "I must protest against yourbelief that I could have been an effective candidate! I have roamed aboutthe State, and I have made some very good friends here and there amongthe hill farmers, like Mr. Jenney. Mr. Redbrook is one of these. But itwould have been absurd of me even to think of a candidacy founded onpersonal friendships. I assure you, " he added, smiling, "there was noself denial in my refusal. "

She gave him an appraising glance which he found at once enchanting anddisconcerting. 

"You are one of those people, I think, who do not know their own value. If I were a man, and such men as Mr. Redbrook and Mr. Jenney knew me andbelieved sufficiently in me and in my integrity of purpose to ask me tobe their candidate" (here she hesitated an instant), "and I believed thatthe cause were a good one, I should not have felt justified in refusing. That is what I meant. I have always thought of you as a man of force anda man of action. But I did not see--the obstacle in your way. "

She hesitated once more, and added, with a courage which did not fail ofits direct appeal, "I did not realize that you would be publicly opposingyour father. And I did not realize that you would not care to criticise--mine. "

On the last word she faltered and glanced at his profile. 

Had she gone too far?

"I felt that you would understand, " he answered. He could not trusthimself to speak further. How much did she know? And how much was shecapable of grasping?

His reticence served only to fortify her trust--to elevate it. It wasimpossible for her not to feel something of that which was in him andcrying for utterance. She was a woman. And if this one action had beenbut the holding of her coat, she would have known. A man who could keepsilent under these conditions must indeed be a rock of might and honour;and she felt sure now, with a surging of joy, that the light she had seenshining from it was the beacon of truth. A question trembled on herlips--the question for which she had long been gathering strength. Whatever the outcome of this communion, she felt that there must beabsolute truth between them. 

"I want to ask you something, Mr. Vane--I have been wanting to for a longtime. "

She saw the muscles of his jaw tighten, --a manner he had when earnest ordetermined, --and she wondered in agitation whether he divined what shewas going to say. He turned his face slowly to hers, and his eyes weretroubled. 

"Yes, " he said. 

"You have always spared my feelings, " she went on. "Now--now I am askingfor the truth--as you see it. Do the Northeastern Railroads wrongfullygovern this State for their own ends?"

Austen, too, as he thought over it afterwards, in the night, wassurprised at her concise phrasing, suggestive; as it was, of muchreflection. But at the moment, although he had been prepared for and hadbraced himself against something of this nature, he was neverthelessovercome by the absolute and fearless directness of her speech. 

"That is a question, " he answered, "which you will have to ask yourfather. "

"I have asked him, " she said, in a low voice; "I want to know what--youbelieve. "

"You have asked him!" he repeated, in astonishment. 

"Yes. You mustn't think that, in asking you, I am unfair to him in anyway--or that I doubt his sincerity. We have been" (her voice caught alittle) "the closest friends ever since I was a child. " She paused. "ButI want to know what you believe. "

The fact that she emphasized the last pronoun sent another thrill throughhim. Did it, then, make any difference to her what he believed? Did shemean to differentiate him from out of the multitude? He had to steadyhimself before he answered:--"I have sometimes thought that my own viewmight not be broad enough. "

She turned to him again. 

"Why are you evading?" she asked. "I am sure it is not because you havenot settled convictions. And I have asked you--a favour. "

"You have done me an honour, " he answered, and faced her suddenly. "Youmust see, " he cried, with a power and passion in his voice that startledand thrilled her in turn, "you must see that it's because I wish to befair that I hesitate. I would tell you--anything. I do not agree with myown father, --we have been--apart--for years because of this. And Ido--not agree with Mr. Flint. I am sure that they both are wrong. But Icannot help seeing their point of view. These practices are the result ofan evolution, of an evolution of their time. They were forced to copewith conditions in the way they did, or go to the wall. They make themistake of believing that the practices are still necessary to-day. "

"Oh!" she exclaimed, a great hope rising within her at these words. "Oh, and you believe they are not!" His explanation seemed so simple, soinspiring. And above and beyond that, he was sure. Conviction rang inevery word. Had he not, she remembered, staked his career by disagreeingwith his father? Yes, and he had been slow to condemn; he had seen theirside. It was they who condemned him. He must have justice--he should haveit!

"I believe such practices are not necessary now, " he said firmly. "A newgeneration has come--a generation more jealous of its political rights, and not so willing to be rid of them by farming them out. A change hastaken place even in the older men, like Mr. Jenney and Mr. Redbrook, whosimply did not think about these questions ten years ago. Men of thistype, who could be leaders, are ready to assume their responsibilities, are ready to deal fairly with railroads and citizens alike. This is amatter of belief. I believe it--Mr. Flint and my father do not. They seethe politicians, and I see the people. I belong to one generation, andthey to another. With the convictions they have, added to the fact thatthey are in a position of heavy responsibility toward the owners of theirproperty, they cannot be blamed for hesitating to try any experiments. "

"And the practices are--bad?" Victoria asked. 

"They are entirely subversive of the principles of American government, to say the least, " replied Austen, grimly. He was thinking of the passwhich Mr. Flint had sent him, and of the kind of men Mr. Flint employedto make the practices effective. 

They descended into the darkness of a deep valley, scored out between thehills by one of the rushing tributaries of the Blue. The moon fell downbehind the opposite ridge, and the road ran through a deep forest. He nolonger saw the shades of meaning in her face, but in the blackness ofErebus he could have sensed her presence at his side. Speech, though ofthis strange kind of which neither felt the strangeness, had come andgone between them, and now silence spoke as eloquently. Twice or thricetheir eyes met through the gloom, --and there was light. At length shespoke with the impulsiveness in her voice that he found so appealing. 

"You must see my father--you must talk to him. He doesn't know how fairyou are!"

To Austen the inference was obvious that Mr. Flint had conceived for hima special animosity, which he must have mentioned to Victoria, and thisinference opened the way to a wide speculation in which he was at onceelated and depressed. Why had he been so singled out? And had Victoriadefended him? Once before he remembered that she had told him he must seeMr. Flint. They had gained the ridge now, and the moon had risen againfor them, striking black shadows from the maples on the granite-croppedpastures. A little farther on was a road which might have been called therear entrance to Fairview. 

What was he to say?

"I am afraid Mr. Flint has other things to do than to see me, " heanswered. "If he wished to see me, he would say so. "

"Would you go to see him, if he were to ask you?" said Victoria. 

"Yes, " he replied, "but that is not likely to happen. Indeed, you aregiving my opinion entirely too much importance in your father's eyes, " headded, with an attempt to carry it off lightly; "there is no more reasonwhy he should care to discuss the subject with me than with any othercitizen of the State of my age who thinks as I do. "

"Oh, yes, there is, " said Victoria; "he regards you as a person whoseopinion has some weight. I am sure of that. He thinks of you as a personof convictions--and he has heard things about you. You talked to himonce, " she went on, astonished at her own boldness, "and made him angry. Why don't you talk to him again?" she cried, seeing that Austen wassilent. "I am sure that what you said about the change of public opinionin the State would appeal to him. And oh, don't quarrel with him! Youhave a faculty of differing with people without quarrelling with them. Myfather has so many cares, and he tries so hard to do right as he sees it. You must remember that he was a poor farmer's son, and that he began towork at fourteen in Brampton, running errands for a country printer. Henever had any advantages except those he made for himself, and he had tofight his way in a hard school against men who were not alwayshonourable. It is no wonder that he sometimes takes--a material view ofthings. But he is reasonable and willing to listen to what other men haveto say, if he is not antagonized. "

"I understand, " said Austen, who thought Mr. Flint blest in his advocate. Indeed, Victoria's simple reference to her father's origin had touchedhim deeply. "I understand, but I cannot go to him. There is every reasonwhy I cannot, " he added, and she knew that he was speaking withdifficulty, as under great emotion. 

"But if he should send for you?" she asked. She felt his look fixed uponher with a strange intensity, and her heart leaped as she dropped hereyes. 

"If Mr. Flint should send for me, " he answered slowly, "I would come--andgladly. But it must be of his own free will. "

Victoria repeated the words over to herself, "It must be of his own freewill, " waiting until she should be alone to seek their fullinterpretation. She turned, and looked across the lawn at Fairview Houseshining in the light. In another minute they had drawn up before the opendoor. 

"Won't you come in--and wait for Mr. Jenney?" she asked. 

He gazed down into her face, searchingly, and took her hand. 

"Good night, " he said; "Mr. Jenney is not far behind. I think--I think Ishould like the walk. "

CHAPTER XX

MR. CREWE: AN APPRECIATION (1)

It is given to some rare mortals--with whom fame precedes grey hairs orbaldness to read, while still on the rising tide of their efforts, thatportion of their lives which has already been inscribed on the scroll ofhistory--or something like it. Mr. Crewe in kilts at five; and (propheticpicture!) with a train of cars which--so the family tradition runs--wasafterwards demolished; Mr. Crewe at fourteen, in delicate health; thispicture was taken abroad, with a long-suffering tutor who could speakfeelingly, if he would, of embryo geniuses. Even at this early periodHumphrey Crewe's thirst for knowledge was insatiable: he cared little, the biography tells us, for galleries and churches and ruins, but hiscomments upon foreign methods of doing business were astonishinglyprecocious. He recommended to amazed clerks in provincial banks the useof cheques, ridiculed to speechless station-masters the side-entrancerailway carriage with its want of room, and the size of the goods trucks. He is said to have been the first to suggest that soda-water fountainsmight be run at a large profit in London. 

In college, in addition to keeping up his classical courses, he foundtime to make an exhaustive study of the railroads of the United States, embodying these ideas in a pamphlet published shortly after graduation. This pamphlet is now, unfortunately, very rare, but the anonymousbiographer managed to get one and quote from it. If Mr. Crewe'ssuggestions had been carried out, seventy-five per cent of the railroadaccidents might have been eliminated. Thorough was his watchword eventhen. And even at that period he foresaw, with the prophecy of genius, the days of single-track congestion. 

His efforts to improve Leith and the State in general, to ameliorate thecondition of his neighbours, were fittingly and delicately dwelt upon. Adesire to take upon himself the burden of citizenship led--as we know--tofurther self-denial. He felt called upon to go to the Legislature--andthis is what he saw:--(Mr. Crewe is quoted here at length in anadmirable, concise, and hair-raising statement given in an interview tohis biographer. But we have been with him, and know what he saw. It is, for lack of space, reluctantly omitted. )

And now we are to take up where the biography left off; to relate, in achapter if possible, one of the most remarkable campaigns in the historyof this country. A certain reformer of whose acquaintance the honestchronicler boasts (a reformer who got elected!) found, on his first visitto the headquarters he had hired--two citizens under the influence ofliquor and a little girl with a skip rope. Such are the beginnings thattry men's souls. 

The window of every independent shopkeeper in Ripton contained alarge-sized picture of the Leith statesman, his determined chin slightlythrust down into the Gladstone collar. Underneath were the words, "I willput an end to graft and railroad rule. I am a Candidate of the People. Opening rally of the People's Campaign at the Opera House, at 8 P. M. , July 10th. The Hon. Humphrey Crewe, of Leith, will tell the citizens ofRipton how their State is governed. "

"Father, " said Victoria, as she read this announcement (three columnswide, in the Ripton Record) as they sat at breakfast together, "do youmind my going? I can get Hastings Weare to take me. "

"Not at all, " said Mr. Flint, who had returned from New York in a betterframe of mind. "I should like a trustworthy account of that meeting. Only, " he added, "I should advise you to go early, Victoria, in order toget a seat. "

"You don't object to my listening to criticism of you?"

"Not by Humphrey Crewe, " laughed Mr. Flint. 

Early suppers instead of dinners were the rule at Leith on the evening ofthe historic day, and the candidate himself, in his red Leviathan, wasnot inconsiderably annoyed, on the way to Ripton, by innumerablecarryalls and traps filled with brightly gowned recruits of thatorganization of Mrs. Pomfret's which Beatrice Chillingham had nicknamed"The Ladies' Auxiliary. ". In vain Mr. Crewe tooted his horn: the sound ofit was drowned by the gay talk and laughter in the carryalls, and shrieksensued when the Leviathan cut by with only six inches to spare, and thecandidate turned and addressed the drivers in language more forceful thanpolite, and told the ladies they acted as if they were going to aPunch-and-Judy show. 

"Poor dear Humphrey!" said, Mrs. Pomfret, "is so much in earnest. Iwouldn't give a snap for a man without a temper. "

"Poor dear Humphrey" said Beatrice Chillingham, in an undertone to herneighbour, "is exceedingly rude and ungrateful. That's what I think. "

The occupants of one vehicle heard the horn, and sought the top of agrassy mound to let the Leviathan go by. And the Leviathan, withcharacteristic contrariness, stopped. 

"Hello, " said Mr. Crewe, with a pull at his cap. "I intended to be on thelookout for you. "

"That is very thoughtful, Humphrey, considering how many things you haveto be on the lookout for this evening, " Victoria replied. 

"That's all right, " was Mr. Crewe's gracious reply. "I knew you'd besufficiently broad-minded to come, and I hope you won't take offence atcertain remarks I think it my duty to make. "

"Don't let my presence affect you, " she answered, smiling; "I have comeprepared for anything. "

"I'll tell Tooting to give you a good seat, " he called back, as hestarted onward. 

Hastings Weare looked up at her, with laughter-brimming eyes. 

"Victoria, you're a wonder!" he remarked. "Say, do you remember that tallfellow we met at Humphrey's party, Austen Vane?"

Yes. "

"I saw him on the street in Ripton the other day, and he came right upand spoke to me. He hadn't forgotten my name. Now, he'd be my notion of acandidate. He makes you feel as if your presence in the world meantsomething to him. "

"I think he does feel that way, " replied Victoria. 

"I don't blame him if he feels that way about you, " said Hastings, whomade love openly. 

"Hastings, " she answered, "when you get a little older, you will learn toconfine yourself to your own opinions. "

"When I do, " he retorted audaciously, "they never make you blush likethat. "

"It's probably because you have never learned to be original, " shereplied. But Hastings had been set to thinking. 

Mrs. Pomfret, with her foresight and her talent for management, had giventhe Ladies' Auxiliary notice that they were not to go farther forwardthan the twelfth row. She herself, with some especially favoured ones, occupied a box, which was the nearest thing to being on the stage. Oneunforeseen result of Mrs. Pomfret's arrangement was that the first elevenrows were vacant, with the exception of one old man and five or sixschoolboys. Such is the courage of humanity in general! On the arrival ofthe candidate, instead of a surging crowd lining the sidewalk, he foundonly a fringe of the curious, whose usual post of observation was therailroad station, standing silently on the curb. Within, Mr. Tooting'sduties as an usher had not been onerous. He met Mr. Crewe in thevestibule, and drew him into the private office. 

"The railroad's fixed 'em, " said the manager, indignantly, but sottovoce; "I've found that out. Hilary Vane had the word passed around townthat if they came, somethin' would fall on 'em. The Tredways and all thepeople who own factories served notice on their men that if they paid anyattention to this meeting they'd lose their job. But say, the people arewatchin' you, just the same. "

"How many people are in there?" Mr. Crewe demanded. 

"Twenty-seven, when I came out, " said Mr. Tooting, with commendableaccuracy. "But it wants fifteen minutes to eight. "

"And who, " asked Mr. Crewe, "is to introduce me?"

An expression of indignation spread over Mr. Tooting's face. 

"There ain't a man in Ripton's got sand enough!" he exclaimed. "SolGridley was a-goin' to, but he went to New York on the noon train. Iguess it's a pleasure trip, " Mr. Tooting hinted darkly. 

"Why, " said Mr. Crewe, "he's the fellow--"

"Exactly, " Mr. Tooting replied, "and he did get a lot of 'em, travellingabout. But Sol has got to work on the quiet, you understand. He feels hecan't come out right away. "

"And how about Amos Ricketts? Where's he?"

"Amos, " said Mr. Tooting, regretfully, "was taken very sudden about fiveo'clock. One of his spells come on, and he sent me word to the RiptonHouse. He had his speech all made up, and it was a good one, too. He wasgoing to tell folks pretty straight how the railroad beat him for mayor. "

Mr. Crewe made a gesture of disgust. 

"I'll introduce myself, " he said. "They all know me, anyhow. "

"Say, " said Mr. Tooting, laying a hand on his candidate's arm. "Youcouldn't do any better. I've bin for that all along. "

"Hold on, " said Mr. Crewe, listening, "a lot of people are coming innow. "

What Mr. Crewe had heard, however, was the arrival of the Ladies'Auxiliary, --five and thirty strong, from Leith. But stay! Who are thesecoming? More ladies--ladies in groups of two and three and five! ladiesof Ripton whose husbands, for some unexplained reason, have stayed athome; and Mr. Tooting, as he watched them with mingled feelings, became awoman's suffragist on the spot. He dived into the private office oncemore, where he found Mr. Crewe seated with his legs crossed, calmlyreading a last winter's playbill. (Note for a more complete biography. )

"Well, Tooting, " he said, "I thought they'd begin to come. "

"They're mostly women, " Mr. Tooting informed him. 

"Women!"

"Hold on!" said Mr. Tooting, who had the true showman's instinct. "Can'tyou see that folks are curious? They're afraid to come 'emselves, andthey're sendin' their wives and daughters. If you get the women tonight, they'll go home and club the men into line. "

Eight strokes boomed out from the tower of the neighbouring town hall, and an expectant flutter spread over the audience, --a flatter whichdisseminated faint odours of sachet and other mysterious substances inwhich feminine apparel is said to the laid away. The stage was empty, save for a table which held a pitcher of water and a glass. 

"It's a pretty good imitation of a matinee, " Hastings Weare remarked. "Iwonder whom the front seats are reserved for. Say, Victoria, there's yourfriend Mr. Vane in the corner. He's looking over here. "

"He has a perfect right to look where he chooses, " said Victoria. Shewondered whether he would come over and sit next to her if she turnedaround, and decided instantly that he wouldn't. Presently, when shethought Hastings was off his guard, she did turn, to meet, as sheexpected, Austen's glance fixed upon her. Their greeting was the signalof two people with a mutual understanding. He did not rise, and althoughshe acknowledged to herself a feeling of disappointment, she gave himcredit for a nice comprehension of the situation. Beside him was hisfriend Tom Gaylord, who presented to her a very puzzled face. And then, if there had been a band, it would have been time to play "See, theConquering Hero Comes!"

Why wasn't there a band? No such mistake, Mr. Tooting vowed, should bemade at the next rally. 

It was Mrs. Pomfret who led the applause from her box as the candidatewalked modestly up the side aisle and presently appeared, alone, on thestage. The flutter of excitement was renewed, and this time it mightalmost be called a flutter of apprehension. But we who have heard Mr. Crewe speak are in no alarm for our candidate. He takes a glass of icedwater; he arranges, with the utmost sangfroid, his notes on the desk andadjusts the reading light. Then he steps forward and surveys thescattered groups. 

"Ladies--" a titter ran through the audience, --a titter which startedsomewhere in the near neighbourhood of Mr. Hastings Weare--and roseinstantly to several hysterical peals of feminine laughter. Mrs. Pomfret, outraged, sweeps the frivolous offenders with her lorgnette; Mr. Crewe, with his arm resting, on the reading-desk, merely raises the palm of hishand to a perpendicular reproof, --"and gentlemen. " At this point theaudience is thoroughly cowed. "Ladies and gentlemen and fellow citizens. I thank you for the honour you have done me in coming here to listen tothe opening speech of my campaign to-night. It is a campaign for decencyand good government, and I know that the common people of the State--ofwhom I have the honour to be one--demand these things. I cannot say asmuch for the so-called prominent citizens, " said Mr. Crewe, glancingabout him; "not one of your prominent citizens in Ripton would venture tooffend the powers that be by consenting to introduce me to-night, ordared come into this theatre and take seats within thirty feet of thisplatform. " Here Mr. Crewe let his eyes rest significantly on the elevenempty rows, while his hearers squirmed in terrified silence at thisaudacity. Even the Ripton women knew that this was high treason beneaththe walls of the citadel, and many of them glanced furtively at thestrangely composed daughter of Augustus P. Flint. 

"I will show you that I can stand on my own feet, " Mr. Crewe continued. "I will introduce myself. I am Humphrey Crewe of Leith, and I claim tohave added something to the welfare and prosperity of this State, and Iintend to add more before I have finished. "

At this point, as might have been expected, spontaneous applause brokeforth, originating in the right-hand stage box. Here was a daringdefiance indeed, a courage of such a high order that it completelycarried away the ladies and drew reluctant plaudits from the maleelement. "Give it to 'em, Humphrey!" said one of those who happened to besitting next to Miss Flint, and who received a very severe pinch in thearm in consequence. 

"I thank the gentleman, " answered Mr. Crewe, "and I propose to--(Handclapping and sachet. ) I propose to show that you spend somethinglike two hundred thousand dollars a year to elect legislators and send'em to the capital, when the real government of your State is in a roomin the Pelican Hotel known as the Railroad Room, and the real governor isa citizen of your town, the Honourable Hilary Vane, who sits there andacts for his master, Mr. Augustus P. Flint of New York. And I propose toprove to you that, before the Honourable Adam B. Hunt appeared as thatwhich has come to be known as the 'regular' candidate, Mr. Flint sent forhim to go to New York and exacted certain promises from him. Not that itwas necessary, but the Northeastern Railroads never take any chances. (Laughter. ) The Honourable Adam B. Hunt is what they call a 'safe' man, meaning by that a man who will do what Mr. Flint wants him to do. While Iam not 'safe' because I have dared to defy them in your name, and will dowhat the people want me to do. (Clapping and cheers from a gentleman inthe darkness, afterwards identified as Mr. Tooting. ) Now, my friends, areyou going to continue to allow a citizen of New York to nominate yourgovernors, and do you intend, tamely, to give the Honourable Adam B. Huntyour votes?"

"They ain't got any votes, " said a voice--not that of Mr. Hastings Weare, for it came from the depths of the gallery. 

"'The hand that rocks the cradle sways the world, '" answered Mr. Crewe, and there was no doubt about the sincerity of the applause this time. 

"The campaign of the Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith, " said the StateTribune next day, "was inaugurated at the Opera House in Ripton lastnight before an enthusiastic audience consisting of Mr. Austen Vane, Mr. Thomas Gaylord, Jr. , Mr. Hamilton Tooting, two reporters, andseventy-four ladies, who cheered the speaker to the echo. About half ofthese ladies were summer residents of Leith in charge of the well-knownsocial leader, Mrs. Patterson Pomfret, --an organized league which, it isunderstood, will follow the candidate about the State in the Englishfashion, kissing the babies and teaching the mothers hygienic cooking andhow to ondule the hair. "

After speaking for an hour and a half, the Honourable Humphrey Crewedeclared that he would be glad to meet any of the audience who wished toshake his hand, and it was Mrs. Pomfret who reached him first. 

"Don't be discouraged, Humphrey, --you are magnificent, " she whispered. 

"Discouraged!" echoed Mr. Crewe. "You can't kill an idea, and we'll seewho's right and who's wrong before I get through with 'em. "

"What a noble spirit!" Mrs. Pomfret exclaimed aside to Mrs. Chillingham. Then she added, in a louder tone, "Ladies, if you will kindly tell meyour names, I shall be happy to introduce you to the candidate. Well, Victoria, I didn't expect to see you here. "

"Why not?" said Victoria. "Humphrey, accept my congratulations. "

"Did you like it?" asked Mr. Crewe. "I thought it was a pretty goodspeech myself. There's nothing like telling the truth, you know. And, bythe way, I hope to see you in a day or two, before I start for Kingston. Telephone me when you come down to Leith. "

The congratulations bestowed on the candidate by the daughter of thepresident of the Northeastern Railroads quite took the breath out of thespectators who witnessed the incident, and gave rise to the wildestconjectures. And the admiration of Mr. Hastings Weare was unbounded. 

"You've got the most magnificent nerve I ever saw, Victoria, " heexclaimed, as they made their way towards the door. 

"You forget Humphrey, " she replied. 

Hastings looked at her and chuckled. In fact, he chuckled all the wayhome. In the vestibule they met Mr. Austen Vane and Mr. Thomas Gaylord, the latter coming forward with a certain palpable embarrassment. Allthrough the evening Tom had been trying to account for her presence atthe meeting, until Austen had begged him to keep his speculations tohimself. "She can't be engaged to him!" Mr. Gaylord had exclaimed morethan once, under his breath. "Why not?" Austen had answered; "there's agood deal about him to admire. " "Because she's got more sense, " said Tomdoggedly. Hence he was at a loss for words when she greeted him. 

"Well, Mr. Gaylord, " she said, "you see no bones were broken, after all. But I appreciated your precaution in sending the buggy behind me, although it wasn't necessary. 

"I felt somewhat responsible, " replied Tom, and words failed him. "Here'sAusten Vane, " he added, indicating by a nod of the head the obviouspresence of that gentleman. "You'll excuse me. There's a man here I wantto see. "

"What's the matter with Mr. Gaylord?" Victoria asked. "He seems so--queer. "

They were standing apart, alone, Hastings Weare having gone to thestables for the runabout. 

"Mr. Gaylord imagines he doesn't get along with the opposite sex, " Austenreplied, with just a shade of constraint. 

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Victoria; "we got along perfectly the other daywhen he rescued me from the bushes. What's the matter with him?"

Austen laughed, and their eyes met. 

"I think he is rather surprised to see you here, " he said. 

"And you?" returned Victoria. "Aren't you equally out of place?"

He did not care to go into an explanation of Tom's suspicion in regard toMr. Crewe. 

"My curiosity was too much for me, " he replied, smiling. 

"So was mine, " she replied, and suddenly demanded: "What did you think ofHumphrey's speech?"

Their eyes met. And despite the attempted seriousness of her tone theyjoined in an irresistible and spontaneous laughter. They were again onthat plane of mutual understanding and intimacy for which neither couldaccount. 

"I have no criticism to make of Mr. Crewe as an orator, at least, " hesaid. 

Then she grew serious again, and regarded him steadfastly. 

"And--what he said?" she asked. 

Austen wondered again at the courage she had displayed. All he had beenable to think of in the theatre, while listening to Mr. Crewe's words ofdenunciation of the Northeastern Railroads, had been of the effect theymight have on Victoria's feelings, and from time to time he had glancedanxiously at her profile. And now, looking into her face, questioning, trustful--he could not even attempt to evade. He was silent. 

"I shouldn't have asked you that, " she said. "One reason I came wasbecause--because I wanted to hear the worst. You were too considerate totell me--all. "

He looked mutely into her eyes, and a great desire arose in him to beable to carry her away from it all. Many times within the past year, whenthe troubles and complications of his life had weighed upon him, histhoughts had turned to, that Western country, limited only by the brighthorizons where the sun rose and set. If he could only take her there, orinto his own hills, where no man might follow them! It was a primevallonging, and, being a woman and the object of it, she saw its essentialmeaning in his face. For a brief moment they stood as completely alone ason the crest of Sawanec. 

"Good night, " she said, in a low voice. 

He did not trust himself to speak at once, but went down the steps withher to the curb, where Hastings Weare was waiting in the runabout. 

"I was just telling Miss Flint, " said that young gentleman, "that youwould have been my candidate. "

Austen's face relaxed. 

"Thank you, Mr. Weare, " he said simply; and to Victoria, "Good night. "

At the corner, when she turned, she saw him still standing on the edge ofthe sidewalk, his tall figure thrown into bold relief by the light whichflooded from the entrance. The account of the Ripton meeting, substantially as it appeared in the State Tribune, was by a singularcoincidence copied at once into sixty-odd weekly newspapers, and musthave caused endless merriment throughout the State. CongressmanFairplay's prophecy of "negligible" was an exaggeration, and onegentleman who had rashly predicted that Mr. Crewe would get twentydelegates out of a thousand hid himself for shame. On the whole, the"monumental farce" forecast seemed best to fit the situation. Aconference was held at Leith between the candidate, Mr. Tooting, and theHonourable Timothy Watling of Newcastle, who was preparing the nominatingspeech, although the convention was more than two months distant. Mr. Watling was skilled in rounded periods of oratory and in other thingspolitical; and both he and Mr. Tooting reiterated their opinion thatthere was no particle of doubt about Mr. Crewe's nomination. 

"But we'll have to fight fire with fire, " Mr. Tooting declared. It wasprobably an accident that he happened to kick, at this instant, Mr. Watling under cover of the table. Mr. Watling was an old and valuedfriend. 

"Gentlemen, " said Mr. Crewe, "I haven't the slightest doubt of mynomination, either. I do not hesitate to say, however, that the expensesof this campaign, at this early stage, seem to me out of all proportion. Let me see what you have there. "

The Honourable Timothy Wading had produced a typewritten list containingsome eighty towns and wards, each followed by a name and the number ofthe delegates therefrom--and figures. 

"They'd all be enthusiastic Crewe men--if they could be seen by the rightparty, " declared Mr. Tooting. 

Mr. Crewe ran his eye over the list. 

"Whom would you suggest to see 'em?" he asked coldly. 

"There's only one party I know of that has much influence over 'em, " Mr. Tooting replied, with a genial but deferential indication of his friend. 

At this point Mr. Crewe's secretary left the room on an errand, and thethree statesmen went into executive session. In politics, as in charity, it is a good rule not to let one's right hand know what the left handdoeth. Half an hour later the three emerged into the sunlight, Mr. Tooting and Mr. Watling smoking large cigars. 

"You've got a great lay-out here, Mr. Crewe, " Mr. Watling remarked. "Itmust have stood you in a little money, eh? Yes, I'll get mileage books, and you'll hear from me every day or two. "

And now we are come to the infinitely difficult task of relating in awhirlwind manner the story of a whirlwind campaign--a campaign that wasto make the oldest resident sit up and take notice. In the space of fourshort weeks a miracle had begun to show itself. First, there was theKingston meeting, with the candidate, his thumb in his watch-pocket, seated in an open carriage beside Mr. Hamilton Tooting, --a carriagedraped with a sheet on which was painted "Down with Railroad Ring Rule. "

The carriage was preceded by the Kingston Brass Band, producing throbbingmartial melodies, and followed (we are not going to believe the StateTribune any longer) by a jostling' and cheering crowd. The band haltsbefore the G. A. R. Hall; the candidate alights, with a bow ofacknowledgment, and goes to the private office until the musicians areseated in front of the platform, when he enters to renewed cheering andthe tune of "See, the Conquering Hero Comes!"

An honest historian must admit that there were two accounts of thismeeting. Both agree that Mr. Crewe introduced himself, and poured awithering sarcasm on the heads of Kingston's prominent citizens. Oneaccount, which the ill-natured declared to be in Mr. Tooting's style, andwhich appeared (in slightly larger type than that of the other columns)in the Kingston and local papers, stated that the hall was crowded tosuffocation, and that the candidate was "accorded an ovation which lastedfor fully five minutes. "

Mr. Crewe's speech was printed--in this slightly larger type. Woe to theHonourable Adam B. Hunt, who had gone to New York to see whether he couldbe governor! Why didn't he come out on the platform? Because he couldn't. "Safe" candidates couldn't talk. His subservient and fawning reports onaccidents while chairman of the Railroad Commission were ruthlesslyquoted (amid cheers and laughter). What kind of railroad service wasKingston getting compared to what it should have? Compared, indeed, towhat it had twenty years ago? An informal reception was held afterwards. 

More meetings followed, at the rate of four a week, in county aftercounty. At the end of fifteen days a selectman (whose name will go downin history) voluntarily mounted the platform and introduced theHonourable Humphrey Crewe to the audience; not, to be sure, as thesaviour of the State; and from that day onward Mr. Crewe did not lack fora sponsor. On the other hand, the sponsors became more pronounced, and atHarwich (a free-thinking district) a whole board of selectmen and fiveprominent citizens sat gravely beside the candidate in the town hall. 

(1) Paul Pardriff, Ripton. Sent post free, on application, to voters andothers.