ACROSS THE MANY WATERS
And the day of the election arrived next morning and brought cold clouds
shot through with occasional gleams of pale sunshine, only to be followed
by light but threatening flurries of snow.
All through the Sunday night David had sat over in the editorial rooms of
the _Journal_ beside Andrew Sevier, talking, writing and sometimes silent
with unexpressed sympathy, for as the last sheets of his editorial work
slipped through his fingers Andrew grew white and austere. Once for a
half-hour they talked about his business affairs and he turned over a
bundle of papers to David and discussed the investment of the money that
had come from his heavy royalties for the play now running, and the
thousands paid in advance for the new drama.
As David ran carefully through them to see that they were in order for
him to handle, Andrew turned to his desk and wrote rapidly for some
minutes, then sealed a letter and laid it aside. After he had read the
last batch of proof from the composing-room he turned to David and
with a quiet look handed him the letter which was directed to Caroline
Darrah.
"If she ever finds out give her this letter, please. It will make her
understand why I go, I hope. I can't talk to you about it but I want
to ask you, man to man, to look after her. Dave, I leave her to your
care--and Phoebe's." And his rich voice was composed into an utter
sadness.
"The work here and the night are both over, let's go down to
headquarters," he added, and like two boys, with hands tight gripped,
they passed out into the winter street.
Down at the _Gray Picket_ they found some of David's ardent supporters
still fresh and enthusiastic though they had been making a night of it.
Soon waves of excitement were rising and falling all over the city and
the streets were thronged with men from out through the county.
At an early hour heavy wagons moved with the measured tread of blind
tigers and deposited blind tiger kittens, done up in innocent and
deceptive looking crates, at numbers of discreet alley covers near
the polls. At the machine headquarters rotund and blooming gentlemen
grouped and dissolved and grouped again, during which process wads of
greenbacks unrolled and flashed with insolent carelessness. The situation
was and had been desperate and this last stand must be brought through
for the whisky interest, come high as it would.
And so through the morning, delegations kept dropping in to David's
headquarters to keep up the spirits of the candidate and incidentally to
have their own raised. There were ugly rumors coming from the polls. The
police were machine instruments and the back door of every saloon in the
city was wide open, while a repeating vote was plainly indicated by
crowds of floaters who drifted from ward to ward. The faces of the bosses
were discreetly radiant.
"Lord, David," groaned Cap Cantrell, "they're turning loose kegs of
boodle and barrels of booze--we'll never beat 'em in the world! They've
got this city tied up and thrown to the dogs! What's the use of--"
"David," exclaimed the major excitedly, "we're in for a rally, and look
at them!"
Down the street they came, the news kiddies, a hundred strong, led by
Phoebe's freckle-faced red-headed devil whose mouth stretched from ear to
ear with a grin. They carried huge poster banners and their inscriptions
were in a language of their own, emblazoned in ink-pot script.
"I LOVE MY DAVE--BUT JUMP!" meant much to them but failed to elucidate
the fact that they were referring to the gift of a flatboat, canvased for
a swimming booth which David had had moored at the foot of the bridge
during the dog days of the previous summer so that they might have a
joyous dip in the river between editions. He had gone down himself
occasionally for a frolic with them and "Jump!" had been the signal
for the push-off of any timid diver.
He shouted with glee when he read the skit--he was taking his high dive
in life.
"RUN, DAVE, RUN--TIGER'S LOOSE--NIT!" was another witticism and a crooked
pole bore aloft these words, "JUDGE DAVID KILDARE SOAKS OLD BOOZE THE
FIRST ROUND!"
They lined up in front of the headquarters and gave a shrill cheer that
made up in enthusiasm for what it lacked in volume. They took a few words
of banter from the candidate in lieu of a speech and paraded off around
the city, spending much time in front of the camp of the opposition and
indulging in as much of derisive vituperation as they dared.
They were followed by another picturesque visitation. A dignified old
colored man brought twenty pathetic little pickaninnies from the orphans'
home, to which, the men at headquarters learned for the first time, David
Kildare had given the modest building that sheltered the waifs.
Decidedly, murder will out, and there come times when the left and right
hands of a man are forced into confession to each other about their most
secret actions. A political campaign is apt to bring such a situation
into the lives of the aspiring candidates. The little coons set up a
musical wail that passed for a cheer and marched away munching the
contents of a huge box of candy that Polly had sent down to headquarters
the night before, such being her idea of a flagon with which to stay the
courage of the contestants.
And through it all, the consultation of the leaders, the falling hopes of
the poll scouts, the gradual depression that crept over the spirits of
the major and Cap and the rest of his near supports, David was a solid
tower of strength.
Then during the day the tension became tight and tighter, for how the
fight was going exactly no one could tell and it seemed well-nigh
impossible to stop the vote steal that was going on all over the city,
protected by the organized government. Defeat seemed inevitable.
So at six o'clock the disgusted Cap picked up his hat and started home
and to the astonishment of the whole headquarters David Kildare calmly
rose and followed him without a word to the others, who failed to realize
that he had deserted until he was entirely gone. Billy Bob looked dashed
with amazement, Hobson sat down limply in the deserted chair, Tom
whistled--but the major looked at them with a quizzical smile which was
for a second reflected in Andrew Sevier's face.
Phoebe sat in Milly's little nursery in the failing winter light which
was augmented by the glow from the fire of coals.
Little Billy Bob stood at her side within the circle of her arm, his head
against her shoulder and his eyes wide with a delicious horror as he
gazed upon a calico book whose pages were brilliant with the tragedy
of the three bears, which she was reading very slowly and with many
explanatory annotations. Crimie balanced himself against her knee and
beat with a spoon against the back of the book and whooped up the
situation in every bubbly way possible to his lack of classified
vocabulary. Milly and Mammy Betty were absorbed in the domestic regions
so Phoebe had them all to herself--all four, for the twins lay cuddled
asleep in their crib near by.
And though Phoebe had herself well in hand, her mind would wander
occasionally from the history of the bruins to which Mistake patiently
recalled her by a clamor for, "More, Phoebe, more."
In a hurried response to one of his goads she failed to hear a step in
the hall for which she had been telling herself that she had not been
listening for two hours or more, and David Kildare stood in the doorway,
the firelight full on his face.
It was not a triumphant David with his judiciary honors full upon him and
gubernational, senatorial, ambassadorial and presidential astral shapes
manifesting themselves in dim perspective; it was just old whimsical
David, tender of smile and loving though bantering of eye, albeit a
somewhat pale and exhausted edition.
"Phoebe," he said with a low laugh, "nobody wants Dave--for anything!"
And it was then that the fire that had been lighted in the heart of
Phoebe in her night watch blazed up into her face as she held out her
arms to him! And in the twinkle of a fire-spark David found himself on
his knees, with Phoebe, the low chintz-covered chair and the two kiddies
clasped to his heart.
For a glorious moment he held them all close and his head rested on
Phoebe's shoulder just opposite that of Mistake, while Crimie squirmed
between them. Then he discovered that he was gazing under her chin into
the wide-open, slightly resentful orbs of Big Brother, who eyed him a
moment askance, then, feeling it time to assert himself, reached up and
landed a plainly proprietary and challenging kiss against the corner of
his lady's mouth.
David laughed delightedly and embraced the trio with greater force as he
said propitiatingly, "Good snugglings, isn't it, old man?"
But at this exact moment Crimie took the situation into his own hands,
slipped his cable, grabbed the book as he went and rolled over a couple
of yards with a delighted giggle. Billy Bob, seeing his treasure
captured, instantly followed and there forthwith ensued a tussle that was
the height of delight to the two good-natured youngsters.
And Phoebe's arms closed around David more closely as she held him
embraced against her shoulder, her soft cheek on his.
"Dave," she whispered, "you know I really don't care at all, don't you?"
"What?" demanded David with alarm in his voice as he raised his head and
looked at her in consternation.
"The election makes no--"
"Oh, _that_--I'd forgotten all about it! Don't scare me like that any
more, peach-bud, please," he besought and he took her chin in the hollow
of his hand as she leant to him, her eyes looking into his, level and
confident but glorious with bestowal. For a long minute he gazed straight
into their dawn-gray depths then he said gently, the caress suspended:
"Woman, if you are ever going to take any of this back, do it now!"
"Never," she answered and clasped her hands against his breast.
"It's still the loafer out of a job--just Dave-do-nothing," he insisted,
a new dignity in his voice that stirred her pride.
"Please!" she closed her eyes as she entreated.
"It's for a long time--_always_." His voice was heaven-sweet with its
note of warning and he laid his other strong warm hand on her throat
where a controlled sob made it pulse.
"I'm being very patient," she whispered and her lips quivered with a
smile as two tears jeweled her black lashes.
But David had made his last stand--he folded her in, locked his heart and
threw away the key.
"Love," he whispered after a long time, "I know this is just a
dream--I've had 'em for ten years--but don't let anybody wake me!"
To which plea Phoebe was making the tenderest of responses, when the door
burst open and Billy Bob shot into the room.
"Hip! hip!" he yelled at the top of his voice, "six hundred and ten
plurality and all from the two coon wards--count all in and verified--no
difference now how the others go and--" He paused and the situation
dawned upon him all in a heap as Phoebe hid her head against David's
collar. "Davie," he remarked in subdued tones, "you're 'lected, but I
don't s'pose you care!"
"Go away, Billy Bob, don't you see I'm busy?" answered David as he rose
to his feet, keeping Phoebe still embraced as she stood beside him.
"Jerusalem the Golden! Have you cornered heaven, David?" gasped Billy Bob
again rising to the surface. "Help, somebody, help!" At which exact
minute Mistake succeeded in dispossessing Crimie of the last tatters of
the adventures of the bears and thus bringing down upon them all a tumult
of distraction.
Billy Bob caught up the roarer and threw him almost up to the ceiling.
"Hurrah for Dave!" he said, and to the best of his ability Crimie
"hurrahed" while Mistake joined in enthusiastically. The hubbub at last
penetrated the slumbers of the twins, who added to the uproar to such an
extent that Mammy Betty hurried to the scene of action and cleared the
deck without further delay.
"And," continued Billy Bob to Milly and the pair of serene and only
slightly attentive young people, "you should have seen Jeff, dressed in
Dave's last year frock coat and high hat, whizzing around the coon haunts
in Caroline's gray car handing out invitations to the Chocolate Country
Club jamboree! They put the bottle and the dimes completely out of
business and he voted the whole gang straight. They tried hard to fix up
the returns but Hob and I were at the count and we saw it clean. Holy
smoke, what a sell for the machine! Slipped a cog on the nigger vote that
they have handled for years!"
"And not a dollar spent!" said David with pride. Which goes to show that
at times women keep their own counsels, for Phoebe ducked her head to
hide a smile.
"And now it's up to you to hurry and get to the University Club by
eight-thirty. You are to address the populace and two brass bands from
the northeast window at nine sharp--two extras out announcing it.
Everybody has been looking for you an hour, you old moon-spooner, you!"
urged Billy Bob.
"They can keep up the hunt--Phoebe and I are going--well, we are going
where nobody can find us for this evening anyway," answered David with
danger in his eyes.
"No!" said Phoebe as she slipped her hand into his, "I've had you as long
as is fair as it is. Won't you go and see them all? If you will I will
dress in a hurry and you can come by for me. Please!"
"Don't pull back on the leash, David," remarked Billy Bob. "It's just
beginning. Trot to heel and be happy." He laid his arm round Milly's
waist as he spoke and gave her a little squeeze.
And it was into the midst of a glorious round-up of a whole joyous
convention of friends that David Kildare stepped several hours later, a
resplendent and magnificent David with Phoebe glowing beside him. And,
too, it was not only his own high particulars that surged around him,
for Phoebe had fixed it with the board of governors and made out a very
careful list of every campaign friend he had made and had all the girls
at the phones for hours inviting each and every one. If at any time in
his political career David Kildare should lack the far vision Phoebe was
fully capable of taking a long sight for him.
So Mike O'Rourke was there, stuffed carefully into a rented dress suit
and was being attentioned to the point of combustion by Polly, who was
thus putting off a reckoning with young New England, promised for "after
the election." Freckles, the devil, was having the lark of his life in
removing hats and coats under the direction of an extremely dignified
club official.
There were men from the down-town district in plain business clothes who
stood in excited groups discussing the issues of the day. The head of the
cotton mills, who had voted every employee perfectly in line without
coercion, was expatiating largely to four old fellows in gray, for whom
Cap had succeeded in obtaining furloughs from the commandant out at the
Home and was keeping over night as his guests. They also were having the
lark of their young lives and were being overwhelmed by attentions from
all the Confederate Dames present.
Susie Carrie was wonderful in some dangerously contrived Greek draperies,
and over by the window held court on the subject of a city beautiful
under a council of artistic city fathers. She announced the beginning of
sittings for a full life-sized portrait of Judge Kildare for the city
hall, at which Billy Bob raised such a cheer as almost to drown out the
orchestra.
Mrs. Buchanan received everybody with the most beaming delight and Mrs.
Shelby was so excited that she asked Billy Bob about the children, which
concession brought the stars to Milly's gentle eyes.
Mrs. Cherry, as usual, was in full and resplendent regalia with Tom in
attendance, displaying a satisfied and masterful manner that told its own
tale. Her amazing encounter with Tempie had remained a secret between her
and the discreet old negro and her manner to Caroline Darrah was so
impressively cordial that Phoebe actually unbent to the extent of an
exchange of congratulations that had a semblance of friendliness. The
widow's net having hauled up Tom, hopes for untroubled waters again could
be indulged.
In the midst of all the hilarity the delegations and the bands began to
arrive outside. The cheering rose to a roar and from the brilliantly
lighted ballroom David Kildare stepped out on the balcony and stood
forty-five minutes laughing and bowing, not managing to get in more than
a few words of what might have been a great speech if his constituency
had not been entirely too excited to listen to it.
It was almost midnight when they all marched away to _Dixie_ played to
rag-time measure and sung by five hundred strong. With a sigh of relief
David held out his arms to Phoebe and started to swing her into the whirl
of the dancers. As his arms fell about her Phoebe pressed close to him
with a quick breath and his eyes followed hers across the room.
Under the lights that hung above the entrance to the fern room stood
Caroline Darrah like a flower blown against the deep green of the tall
palms behind her, and her eyes were lifted to Andrew's face which smiled
down at her with suppressed tragedy. For an instant she laid her hand
on his arm and they were about to catch step with the music when suddenly
she swung around into the green tangle beyond her and reached out her
hand to draw him after her.
"Pray, David, pray," said Phoebe as they glided over the polished floor.
"I am," David whispered back as his arms tightened. "I can't think of
anything but 'Now I lay me'--but won't it help?"
In the wide window at the end of the long room Caroline turned and waited
for Andrew. The lights from the city beat up into her face and she was
pale, while her jewel eyes shone black under their long lashes. Her white
gloved hands wrung themselves against his breast as she held him from
her.
"Out there while we danced," she whispered, "I don't know what, but
something told me that you are going to leave me and not tell me why. You
were saying good-by to my heart--with yours. Tell me, what is it?"
And with full knowledge of the strange, subtle, superconscious thing that
had been between them from the first and which had manifested itself in
devious mystic ways, Andrew Sevier had dared to think he could hold her
in his arms in an atmosphere charged with the call of a half-barbarous
music and take farewell of her--she all unknowing of what threatened!
"What is it?" she demanded again and her hands separated to clasp his
shoulder convulsively. Her words were a flutter between her teeth.
Then the God of Women struck light across his blindness, and taking her
in his arms, he looked her straight in the eyes and told her the whole
gruesome bitter tale. Before he had finished she closed her eyes against
his and swayed away from him to the cold window-pane.
"I see," she whispered, "you don't want me--you
couldn't--_you_--_never_--_did_!"
And at that instant the blood bond in Andrew Sevier's breast snapped and
with an awed comprehension of the vast and everlasting Source from which
flows the love that constrains and the love that heals, the love that
only comes to bind in honor, he reached out and took his own. In the
seventh heaven which is the soul haunt of all in like case, there was no
need of word mating.
Hours later, one by one the lights in the houses along the avenue
twinkled out and the street lay in the grasp of the after midnight
silence. Only a bright light still burned at the major's table, which was
piled high with books into which he was delving with the hunger of many
long hours of deprivation strong upon him. He had scouted the idea of the
ball, had donned dressing-gown and slippers and gone back to the company
of his Immortals with alacrity. On their return Mrs. Buchanan and the
girls had found him buried in his tomes ten deep and it was with
difficulty that Phoebe, kneeling beside him on one side, and Caroline on
the other, made him listen to their joint tale of modern romance, to
which Mrs. Matilda played the part of a joyous commentator.
To Phoebe he was merciless and a war of wits made the library echo with
its give and take.
"Of course, my dear Phoebe," he said, "it is an established fact that a
man and his wife are one, and if you will just let that one be Judge
Kildare semi-occasionally it will more than content him, I'm sure."
"Why, Major, can't you trust me to be a good--wife to David? Don't be
unkind to me! I'll promise to--to--"
"Don't, Phoebe, don't! That 'love, honor and obey' clause is the direct
cause of all the woman legislation ever undertaken--and it holds a
remarkably short time after marriage as a general thing. Now there's
Matilda--for over thirty-five years I've--But where is Andrew?" he
demanded anxiously.
"Andy," answered David with the greatest delight in his happy eyes and
the red lock rampant over his brow, "is sitting on the end of a hard
bench down at the telegraph office trying to get a cable through to his
chief for permission to wait over for a steamer that sails for Panama
two weeks from to-day."
"What?" demanded the major in surprise, looking at Caroline.
"Oh, _she's_ going with him--there are no frills to the affection of
Caroline Darrah! She'll be bending over his camp-fire yanking out his hot
tamales in less than a month--glad to do it. Won't you, beautiful?"
answered David gleefully to Caroline's beautiful confusion.
"David Kildare," observed the major with the utmost solemnity, "when a
man and woman embark with love at the rudder it is well the Almighty
controls the wind and the tides."
"I know, Major, I know and I'm scared some, only I'm counting on Phoebe's
chart and the stars. I'm just the jolly paddler," answered David with a
laugh across at Phoebe.
"Well," remarked the major judicially, "I think she will be able to
accomplish the course if undisturbed. It will behoove you, however, to
remember that husband love is a steady combustion, not a conflagration."
"What do you call a love that has burned constantly for between ten and
fifteen years, Major?" asked David as he smiled into the keen old eyes
that held his.
"That," answered the major, "is a fire fit to light an altar, sir."
"And in my heart, ah, Major, can you trust me--to keep--it burning?" said
Phoebe, thus making her avowal before them all with gallant voice and
eyes of the dawn.
Moments later after Phoebe and Mrs. Buchanan had retired down the hall,
and up the stairway, Caroline Darrah still knelt by the major's chair.
They were both silent and the major held her hand in his. They neither of
them heard the latch key and in a moment Andrew Sevier stood across the
firelight from them.
"I wanted to hear it, Major," he entreated as he laid his hand on
Caroline's shoulder when she came to his side and held out his other to
the major. "Say it, if you will, sir!"
"The Almighty bless you, boy, and make His sun to shine upon you. He
is doing it in giving you Caroline to wife. Some women He holds as
hostages until the greater men in us can rise to claim them and to-night
His eyes have seen your fulfilment." The major looked straight into the
pain-ravaged but radiant face before him and his keen old eyes glowed
through the mist that spread across them.
"Child," he said after a moment's silence as he laid his hand on
Caroline's other shoulder, "across the many waters that can not drown
love you have brought back to my old age young Andrew the Glad."
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's Andrew the Glad, by Maria Thompson Daviess