A YOUTH OF PROMISE, A FEMALE POLITICIAN AND A YELLOW MAN.
Paula watched Leonard until he disappeared. Then she sighed. Long ago
Beverley Claghorn had paid a similar tribute to the charms which
extorted the sigh. In Paula's eyes the attractions which pertained to
Leonard were lost in the sect to which he belonged. As a priest of the
Church (it was thus that she put it) he would have been externally
perfect, his physical excellence of unspeakable value to the cause of
pure truth, while his conception of the priestly role would have been
even nobler than that of Father Cameril. Leonard would have been no meek
saint, but a saint militant, and long ere this the Bishop would have
been down upon him, to the episcopal discomfiture.
If Paula grieved that Leonard labored under the disadvantage of the
rigid practice of his denomination as to vesture and pulpit accessories,
to those by whom such disadvantages were unrecognized his personality
was no less persuasive of his fitness for noble deeds. As a rising
theologian and young teacher of the divine science, he was, to those who
watched his course, of excellent promise; destined to be a defender of
that ancient creed which of late had been often attacked by able, if
deluded, foes. To him orthodoxy looked with confidence, as to one who,
when the day of battle came, would valiantly assail the enemies without,
and confound the machinations of those within the household of faith. A
worthy successor of his father, Professor Jared Claghorn, and to be
greater, as better equipped to meet skeptical reasoning with reason
clarified by faith; to demonstrate that the eye of the philosopher is
but a feeble instrument for scrutiny of the works of God.
He was not ignorant of the general estimate or of the hopes of his
elders, and had long been accustomed to fit himself for the position he
was destined to fill, but of these aspirations he was oblivious as he
walked slowly toward the town. He had never forgotten his father's words
as to Natalie's unbelief. They were part of the memory of her, and now
that memory was reawakened, and the words sounded again in his ears. He
was deeply stirred by the knowledge that an errant soul was about to
enter the inner circle of his life. He saw the hand of Providence in the
fact; it was for this that she had not been turned from infidelity to
error. She would not find the way to heaven by the dim rays of the
obscured light of Romanism, but by the purer light of a reformed and
vitalized religion, and to him was to be given the glory of being
heaven's instrument. He was ambitious; his eyes had long been set on
such earthly honors as come to theologians; he was prepared to welcome
the theological storm of which the forecasts were already visible to
those of clear perception, such as his own. In that impending struggle
he knew that he would bear himself worthily, yet no glory that he could
rightly anticipate therefrom seemed now so pleasing, nor awakened more
fervent hope than that just born within him, the hope of rescuing a
single soul. That glory would transcend all other, for though from men
his work might be hidden, in the eyes of God he would be a faithful and
worthy servant, and would hear from heaven the inaudible words, "Well
done."
Exaltation such as this had long been rare with Leonard, whose mind of
late had been fascinated rather by the mysteries of doctrine than warmed
by religious fervor; and he was himself surprised that this ardent
desire for a soul should enchain him; but he was gratified. To save
souls was the ultimate object of his teaching; he was glad of this
evidence that he had not forgotten it.
It may be that other thoughts, memories of bygone days, arose in his
mind. Perhaps he recalled the beauty that had so attracted him in the
garden of the Red Ox. There may have been some stirring of the blood of
youth, which of late had sometimes coursed tingling through his veins;
sometimes when he held Paula's hand, or noted the peachy velvet of her
cheek, the clear depths of her eyes. But, if it were so, he was
unconscious.
Meanwhile, Paula, who in the face of Miss Claghorn's fiat, still hoped
to rescue Natalie from the impending horrors of the White House, turned
toward the mansion. Her main reliance lay in anticipating the summons of
Miss Achsah by an urgent invitation from the mistress of Stormpoint, to
which end it was essential to seek that lady without further delay.
Suddenly, as she hurried on, an exclamation of annoyance escaped her,
and her steps were arrested by the sight of an ancient and mud-encrusted
buggy which stood near that entrance to the house toward which her own
steps were tending. She recognized the equipage of Mr. Hezekiah Hacket,
and recent observation had taught her that when Mr. Hacket's carriage
stopped that way, the lady of Stormpoint was not accessible to persons
of minor distinction.
Aside from her general disapproval of Mr. Hacket, whose buggy, beneath
its coating of mud, was yellow, and who was himself a yellow man, with
teeth, hair, eyes and skin all of that unattractive hue, and unlovely in
consequence of his pervading tint, Paula had no reason, so far as she
knew, to resent Mr. Hacket's presence, except that it interfered with
access to Mrs. Joe. Had she been aware of that which was transpiring in
that apartment of the mansion which was devoted to business of state,
she would have known that the visit of the gentleman was to have an
important bearing upon her wish to deprive Miss Achsah of the
opportunity to convert her erring grand-niece to Calvinism; which dark
design Paula, since her meeting with Father Cameril, suspected.
Hezekiah Hacket, externally no more noteworthy than any very ordinary
man and brother, was, in fact, an important personage in that region
where Mrs. Joseph Claghorn had replanted the California branch of the
family tree, intending that it should flourish and mightily expand. The
shrewd lady of Stormpoint had quickly discovered that Mr. Hacket, the
man of business of the Seminary, as well as of everybody that required
the services of a man of business, possessed a sphere of influence
eminently worthy of cultivation by political aspirants; and in all the
region round about there was no such aspirant whose ambition soared as
high as hers. In a realm largely dominated by a theological seminary,
the existence of the political potentate called "Boss" was ignored and
the word was seldom heard; but Mr. Hacket was the thing, and, all
unconscious, the Seminary voted as its political guardian wished. Not
the Seminary only; as the investor of the funds of others, this
personage controlled the sources of power, and while deftly avoiding
concentration of the secret antagonism which he knew existed against
himself, by never exposing himself to the vengeance of the ballot, Mr.
Hacket named the candidates for office--not infrequently those of
opposing sides, so that in close elections, when a rolling wave of
reform rendered the outlook uncertain, as in those not close, he
remained the winner. Financially, he was strictly, though only legally,
honest. Politically, he was a rogue. He was a pious man, though without
a conscience and without belief. His industry was untiring. The lady of
Stormpoint disliked him, at times to the point of loathing, and she
courted him and smiled upon him.
"I sent for you," she said, on his appearance at Stormpoint, and
offering a fair hand and an agreeable smile, both of which Mr. Hacket
pretended not to see, it being his pleasant way to rule by insolence--if
possible, by cringing if need were--"because in a few months my son will
return home."
Mr. Hacket smoothed his yellow jaws with a freckled hand, and replied,
"Just so," while the lady, who secretly desired to shake him, smiled yet
more agreeably.
"Before he left home the last time," she continued, seeing that her
visitor intended to remain dumb, "he had made many acquaintances. This
was in accordance with your advice. What is he to do now?"
"Make more acquaintances."
"That, of course. I want him to enter the next Legislature."
Mr. Hacket had not decided that the desire expressed by the lady was his
own, but he was shrewd enough to know that, crude as her ideas might be,
and defective her knowledge of things political, she had the energy to
attain her desire in the end, if seconded by the efforts of her
candidate. He hated innovation, but he was aware that the Great Serpent
held potentialities which he must not antagonize. It was not possible
for him to be pleasing to Mrs. Joe, nor for her to be pleasing to him;
but it was prudent to seem sympathetic. He essayed it, awkwardly enough.
"You know," he said, "your son is young and his only merit is money."
She flushed; but she knew he could not help being insolent in the
presence of grace, comeliness and luxury, and all these were before him.
"You mean it's the merit by which he's best known. Let it serve until
others become apparent."
"It'll go far, but some it makes mad. I have an idea your son isn't
over-warm in the matter."
"He didn't seem so. He wasn't aware that I am serious, and I said but
little to him. Then the country was very new to him, and the people.
He'd been long in Europe; his position was difficult." She had realized
much more keenly than Mr. Hacket that Mark had only followed her urgency
in that matter of making acquaintance because he had wished to please
her. She was sure that there had been some hidden cause for indifference
other than distaste for the task she had set him, and had brooded not a
little over possibilities. But she was sanguine by nature; and since no
love-tale had come to her ears (and she had her observers and reporters)
she had concluded that, whatever the cause of his indifference, her son
would become sufficiently ardent in the furtherance of her plans, when
once they were more fully disclosed to him, and he had become aware that
his mother had set her heart upon a political career for him. At present
he probably regarded her wishes as merely a passing whim, and she knew
that he was ignorant of her consultations with Mr. Hacket.
"Positions are apt to be difficult," observed the gentleman. "However,
it's much too soon to discuss nominations. He'll have a year before
him."
"He must have the Seminary," she said, "when the time comes."
"When the time comes," he echoed. He did not intend to commit himself,
but he was becoming each moment more convinced that the lady knew her
value and wished him to perceive the fact. It was equally evident that
she duly appreciated his own; was, in fact, afraid of him, a pleasing
assurance, which would have been yet more delightful if the gentleman,
simultaneously with the recognition of this truth, had not also
recognized a less agreeable fact, namely, that he was also afraid of
her; sufficiently so to make it advisable that she understand he was not
trifling with her. Such advice as he might give must seem reasonable,
and must go beyond the suggestion of making acquaintances.
"You're working the Sem. all right," he said as graciously as he could.
"Keep it up, but don't overdo it. How's Miss Achsah feel?"
"Friendly to Mark, I'm sure; not unfriendly to me, though----"
"Though your church sticks in her--is hard to swallow. I'm not surprised
at that. St. Perpetual's----"
"Is there and beyond discussion."
"I always believe in looking over the whole field. St. Perpetual covers
a good deal of it; so does Miss Achsah, and----"
"I had no idea that my sister-in-law is a political factor."
"Her's is, or wants to be."
"Well, let us conciliate Miss Achsah, if necessary. We're on fair
terms----"
"Next time the Bishop comes here, invite her to dinner with him."
"She'll decline."
"What if she does? You always had the Professor, and she'll see that you
look on her as his successor."
He rose, as if to go, but hesitated. Not because of any delicacy about
volunteering the counsel that hovered on his lips, but in doubt whether
it might not be well to permit her to injure her aspirations as much as
she could. The certainty that she was, if she cared to be, too
influential to offend him, determined him. He felt, with a sigh, that
the time might come when he might be compelled to share his power;
better that than risk losing it.
"I was in New York this week and saw Ellis Winter," he said. "Ellis told
me that 'Liph Claghorn's daughter is in this country. He seemed to think
you might invite her here."
"I intended to do so."
"Don't. She's French and, I suppose, a Romanist. Winter was
close-mouthed, but I could see there was something. There's talk enough
about idolatry and St. Perpetual's. I happen to know that Miss Achsah
wants her, too, to convert her."
"Really, Mr. Hacket----"
"Good-bye," he said. "I've acted on the square. There's more in the
matter than you think."
After his departure the lady of Stormpoint spent a few moments of
indulgence in silent indignation; but when Paula came and preferred the
request for that urgent invitation to Natalie, which was to circumvent
the designs of Miss Claghorn, she found the lady inclined to recognize
the claims of that person. Nevertheless, she promised to send the
invitation, and did so that afternoon.