A GOVERNOR AND A MAID
The Honorable Arba Spinney was in the lobby as usual that winter. The
Duke's sarcastic prediction was fulfilled. He appeared promptly at the
session's opening, and was the most insistent and persistent member of
the "Third House," as the paid legislative agents were called. Most of
the men who wormed their way here and there operated craftily and tried
to be diplomatic. Spinney strove by effrontery. As usual, he made the
country members his especial prey. The story of his knavery at the State
Convention had been smothered in the interests of the party. He
reappeared among men with as much assurance as ever. He even approached
Harlan Thornton to solicit his support of one bill. It was a measure to
grant State subsidy, through exemption of taxation, to assist a railroad
to extend its lines into the timber-land country.
Harlan checked him promptly. "I don't propose to discuss that question
or any other with you, Mr. Spinney."
"If that road is built it will double the value of half your lands,"
insisted the lobbyist. "It's business for you and it's business for us,
and there's no reason why you shouldn't talk business, is there?"
"It doesn't interest me, Mr. Spinney." He went on, hotly: "I know just
as much about the matter as you do. It's an attempt to evade the State
constitution, which forbids subsidizing railroads. Governor Waymouth has
explained it to me. I don't propose to profit by any such methods. And
I'll inform you, further, that it's just about the sort of a scheme I'd
expect to find you working for. Do you understand me?"
"I know what you're referring to. But that matter is over with. I got
the worst end of it. You helped to pass it to me. You can't afford to
carry on any quarrel with me, Thornton. Holding grudges is bad business;
so is making a fool of yourself by playing little tin saint in public
matters."
"I hold no grudge against you. That would be getting down on your level.
I'm simply disgusted with you as a man, Mr. Spinney. That's all. You
know why. Now leave me alone."
But Spinney boldly intercepted him. Harlan had started to leave. The
lobbyist realized what a powerful foe young Thornton could be to his
project, and he was desperate.
"I've been up through your country, Mr. Thornton. I've been spending
some time at Fort Canibas. I've been posting myself generally on
railroad and other matters--_other_ matters! I don't want to say too
much, but I'd like to have you run over in your mind what those other
matters might be. Now, you and I can't afford to be enemies. I got the
tough end, and I'm willing to overlook and forget. You owe me a little
something. I hope you're going to square it. Let me remind you that I'm
a bad man with my tongue. I'm free to say it, I depend on my tongue for
what I get out of life."
It occurred to Harlan that this brazen threat referred to the scandal of
the Fort Canibas caucus.
"Bring them on," he sneered: "Ivus Niles and his buck sheep and Enoch
Dudley and the rest of the petty rogues that you hired with your
corporation money to defeat me."
"You're on the wrong trail," replied Spinney. "I can hit you harder than
that, and in a tenderer spot."
He returned Harlan's amazed stare.
"I've been keeping my eyes open down here, Mr. Thornton, and I kept my
ears open up in Fort Canibas." His face grew hard. "D--n you, I'll never
forget what you did to me! I'm coming right out open with you. I'd like
to do you in return. I can do it. But I'll give you a chance; it's for
my interest to do so, providing you buy the let-off. If you don't stand
by me in that tax rebate, I'll launch the story. What I lose in support
I'll more than make up in seeing you squirm. I'm pretty frank, ain't I?
Well, I play strong when I've got enough trumps under my thumb."
"Spinney, I've had enough of that kind of talk. What do you mean?"
"Don't you have the least idea?"
"Not the slightest."
"A good bluff! Well, I know about the girl up country! See? It's a bad
story to be passed up to another girl. And I know how to get the details
to my friend Presson's daughter in time to spoil your ambition in that
quarter. Now, how about that?"
They were in one corner of the State-House lobby, and the presence of a
hundred men about them probably saved Spinney from a beating there and
then. Harlan quivered with rage. He did not grasp the full purport of
Spinney's hints. He only understood that the man had grossly intruded on
his private affairs. He could not speak. He dared not trust his voice.
"Now do you want to let it go further?" inquired the lobbyist. He felt
that the proximity of others protected him.
"I'll meet you alone--I'll hunt you out, and I'll mash that face of
yours into pulp!" choked the young man, and hurried away before he lost
control of himself. The most he could make out of the episode was that
Spinney was seeking cheap revenge by offering insult to his face under
circumstances that prevented him from retaliating. He did not understand
the reference to Clare Kavanagh. His friendship for the girl was no
secret in the north country. That Spinney had made so much account of it
by his insinuations was the astonishing feature, in Harlan's estimation.
Fortunately for his peace of mind at that moment, he was not allowed to
dwell upon the matter. The Governor's messenger came seeking him. He
followed the man into the presence of his Excellency.
Harlan had not recovered his self-possession, and the Governor surveyed
him with some interest.
"Cares of State, young man?" he asked. "And the session still as calm as
a millpond?"
"That cur of a Spinney has just insulted me--no politics, sir, but just
plain, personal insult. Why, he went out of his way to do it!"
"You make much out of nothing if you allow that blatherskite to disturb
you," said the Governor, with mild reproof. "Pay no attention to him.
Now to my business with you! I'd like to have you dine with me this
evening. I have some serious matters to talk over with you alone--and
the executive chamber, here, is no place for a quiet talk."
Harlan hesitated a moment.
"Have you another engagement?"
"I was to dine with the Pressons."
"I am sorry to ask you to do it, my boy, but if it is merely a social
engagement, will you not beg to be excused? I assure you that my
business is such that it cannot well wait another twenty-four hours. I
am ready to leave the State House now. We'll ride past the Presson
door, and I'll wait while you present your regrets. Tell the fair
Madeleine that duty calls." He smiled. "I hear interesting reports,
young man. Again I say I'm sorry to keep you from your engagement, but
Miss Presson has been near enough to politics to understand what a
duty-call means. Come!"
The young man flushed. Reply failed him. He followed the Governor to his
carriage. It was late afternoon, and the State House was emptying.
As Harlan ran up the steps of the Presson house, Spinney's ugly threat
came to him. The man dealt in gossip. It was an incredible form of
attack. It was slander of the innocent. He could not forewarn Madeleine
Presson. That would be caddish.
But he felt a sudden panic. The impulse of admiration; covetous desire
to win her away from Linton, a desire pricked by his increasing dislike
of that young rival in love and politics; the charm she possessed for
him who had met in her his first woman of intellect and culture--all
drove him to her. The other love was a vague something that troubled
him. Madeleine Presson was near and visible, and he did not dissect the
emotion which prompted him to seek her.
She came down to the reception-room. He had sent up an urgent request.
"No," she said, with a smile, after she had listened, "I think I'll put
your loyalty to the test! If I'm always to be the minority report in
your estimation, Mr. Legislator, it's time now to find it out. You put
Governor Waymouth and your politics first, do you?"
"But you haven't given me the right to put you first," he returned,
boldly.
"Just how was I to go about giving you that right?" she inquired, with
demure sarcasm. "Memorialize you, Mr. Representative, or throw it at you
from the House gallery, concealed in a bouquet?"
In spite of the waiting Governor outside he started toward her, his
arms outstretched, his heart rushing to his lips. Her taunt--it seemed
like that--made him desperate.
"Madeleine, I tried to tell you--I know it seemed a strange place, but I
couldn't wait--I want to tell you now--"
She eluded him, and stopped him with a word. He was not impetuous enough
to persist.
"Oh, you master of the art of love-making!" she cried. Pique mingled
with mirth in her tone. "First, you propose to me in the midst of the
mob; then you propose to me, bursting in like a messenger-boy, and
yonder the Governor of this State, with anxious head out of his carriage
window, scowling because you don't come along! Admirable occasions for
pledging passion and life-long devotion! Dear Harlan, your ingenuity
must be puzzled by this time. I'll make a suggestion: fly over our house
in a balloon and shout your declaration down the chimney. I'll sit in
the fireplace from two to four, afternoons."
"I'll not be put off!" he cried.
"You shall be put out, and I'll do it!" Laughing, she took him by his
arm and led him out into the hall. Protesting, he went. "I have some
respect for the feelings of our Governor on a chilly afternoon, even if
you haven't. You are excused from our little dinner. Go, now, Harlan.
I'm serious."
"There's one thing you have given me," he said, red, half-angry, and
thoroughly subdued, "and that's the promise that I may take you to the
legislative ball. That's to-morrow night--and we'll see!" He bolted out
upon the steps.
"Delightful!" she cried after him. "What an opportunity the stage of
City Hall will afford for another!" She shut the door before he could
reply.
The Governor rallied him a bit on his disturbed looks as they rode on,
but Harlan was in no mood to relish jokes on that subject.
Governor Waymouth had no other guests at dinner. He did not broach his
business until they were seated in the little parlor of the modest
mansion. The room had been converted into a study.
"To date the session has hardly been what you hoped--perhaps that's too
strong a word--what you expected it would be, has it?" inquired the
Governor, his earnestness showing that he was ready to begin. He did not
wait for a reply.
"Matters have run in the old rut. Every one seems to be satisfied,
eh--even the radicals in the prohibition movement? Isn't that so? Their
men have introduced some new legislation, adding on more penalties that
no officer will ever enforce--but the mere legislation satisfies 'em.
Everybody satisfied, apparently." The Governor uttered that last
sentence in meditative manner. Then he straightened, and slapped his
hand upon his chair-arm so suddenly that Harlan started. "But I am not
satisfied!" he shouted. "I have let them run along. I have let them
introduce their bills. I have waited for the lawmakers of this State and
for the people to take some initiative. I gave them their call last fall
in my letter. I hoped that some part of this State was awake. But those
few who have shown some signs of civic interest have only pecked around
the edges of reform. Nothing has been done, Harlan Thornton. Not one
sweeping bill has been introduced. I have waited, hoping. I hoped the
people would arise and help me with this burden. But I've waited in
vain. There are only two more days in this session allowed for the
introduction of new business.
"My boy, I talked first with you about my becoming Governor of this
State. That's why I'm talking first with you about this matter. I shall
call every man of this legislature to me and talk with him privately,
and in that work I want your assistance. I want you to bring them to me.
I called you here to-night because to-morrow night folly and fashion
will rule all in this city, and I must be there with the rest. Let me
tell you, my boy, that when the men of this legislature awake, after
that night of frivolity, it will be to open their eyes on some serious
business. Not one word about what I intend to do until then. The session
has been a very sweet cake till now--let the ball sugar-coat it!
There'll be bitter eating provided day after to-morrow!"
He waited a moment, recovering from sudden passion.
"Ah," he said, gentle once more, "that sounds like senile raving. Pardon
me. But while I've waited for the politicians of this State to show some
signs of decency, waiting in vain, I've been swallowing back a lot of
bitterness. No more of it! To our business now. I want you to know what
is coming. I depend on you, as I have depended before, to be my master
of ceremonies--and rather grim ceremonies they will be. For I have
prepared several bills. You will introduce the House measures. I can
depend on Senator Borden, from my county, for what I choose to have
originate in the Senate. They are bills that will put our party and this
State to the test of honesty. It's strange, isn't it, that what sounds
so innocent should be so bitter?"
He opened a drawer in his desk. He took out papers and spread them
before him. He selected one.
"Abolishment of fees (a blow at every grafting officeholder); no more
railroad passes for public officials; a bipartisan tax commission that
shall haul the rich dodger out into the open--all these matters are
covered here. But into your hands, young man, I put the one measure that
is to be the most savage test of our honesty. I have put the most
thought on it. Every lawyer in this State will try to find a flaw in
it. But if I know anything about constitutional law it is framed to beat
them all. I'll not bother to read it to you. Carry it away, and guard it
and study it."
He held it up, waving it. His heart was plainly full. He talked as one
addressing the careless multitude--and talking, at the same time, to
himself.
"You may divine what it is. It handles the great topic in our State. The
source of dishonor, corruption, perjury, and hypocrisy! The prohibitory
law! Let me tell what it will do when it has been enacted into law. It
will make the Governor of this State the grand high sheriff to enforce
personally and actively this one law; it's in our constitution, and the
State should enforce its own. He will have all the resources of the
State treasury behind him. He shall have for the first time PROHIBITION.
Prohibition enforced, prohibition as the statutes have ordered it,
prohibition in actuality instead of its pretence. The pretence has
satisfied the rumsellers who sold, the rum-drinkers who drank, and the
radicals who have boasted of the law, for all have got out of it what
results were desired: appetite was catered to, vanity was satisfied, and
graft engendered for the benefit of the office-holding class.
"I'm not going to predict what I think will be the result of this
enforcement--not now. What I propose to do as an honest man is to put
the prohibitory profession of this State to the test. When this is law,
Luke Presson cannot pose as an honest man and continue to sell liquor to
all-comers, he cannot bribe sheriff and police; I'll send my own men to
smash every bottle in his place, and I'll put him into just as dark a
cell as any Cheap John who peddles poison from his boot-leg. The rich
man must stand on the level of the poor man. It's the test of our
State's honesty--that bill is--and it shall be called 'The Thornton
Law.'"
He arose, and placed the document in Harlan's hand.
The young man received it rather gingerly. He held it with somewhat the
appearance of one who has the custody of a loaded weapon. His face
expressed consternation rather than appreciation.
"Study the measure. I think you'll find it interesting. Introduce it in
the House day after to-morrow. Our gallant lawmakers will be sleepy
after the ball. That will wake 'em up." The old man's nostrils dilated.
He had the air of one who saw battle ahead and yearned for it.
"Move that it be referred to the Committee on Temperance," the Governor
went on. "The fight will be on then and there, just as soon as they get
their breath. They'll want to get it before a _safer_ gang! Let 'em
refer it to the Judiciary Committee if they've got the votes to do so.
I'm not afraid they'll find any constitutional flaws. And that first
vote will give me a line on the general situation. I'll find out just
what men need to have the gospel put to 'em straight!"
"Governor," stammered the young man, still holding the document at
arm's-length, "wouldn't it be--don't you think a--a--some representative
who has had more experience than I should be the one to see this bill
through?"
"I want that bill sponsored by a man that I can trust absolutely. I'm
sure of you, Harlan! When once it is introduced I'll see that you have
plenty of help before the committee and on the floor."
It had come like a thunderclap on a moonlit night. It was sudden tempest
prefaced by the lull of perfect calm. It was the signal to combat
sounded when peace seemed assured. The young man perceived now how much
of his early zeal had deserted him. He shrank from the task the Governor
had assigned to him. It was a blow that was aimed at the tenderest point
of his own party; it was obliging the party, as the dominant power, to
thrust upon the mass of the people the radical execution of a law which
public opinion secretly opposed--that opinion even slyly welcoming the
breach of it. And Governor Waymouth had emphasized what that new measure
meant by citing the name of Luke Presson. It set the situation before
Harlan in a flash. He was summoned to carry out his pledge of loyalty to
Governor Waymouth by attacking the pet policy of nullification that kept
his own party off the shoals to which extreme radicalism would surely
drive it. The first man who would be hit--both as chairman of the party
State Committee and in his personal interests--would be the man whose
daughter he was seeking. Harlan wondered how that marriage proposal
would sound, either on the heels or on the eve of the introduction of
"the Thornton bill."
His uncertainty showed so plainly in his face that the Governor walked
around his table and scrutinized him closely.
"My boy," he asked, "has the enemy captured you while you've been
resting on your arms? Remember, there are slick and specious ways of
making the wrong seem right in politics! I hope you haven't been
tampered with!"
For a guilty moment Harlan remembered the admonitions of Madeleine
Presson. He was promptly ashamed that they had come to his mind when the
Governor spoke his fears.
"I'm going to tell you just why I'm a bit slow in this matter," he said,
manfully. "It may seem a trivial reason to you, Governor Waymouth. I
stopped to wonder how it would affect my friendship with the Presson
family if I should introduce that bill."
"Oh, I see how the land lies! You can understand now how old I am--old
and cold with all the romance burned out of me! I'd forgotten that
there's anything except politics left in the world. So--" He paused,
beaming kindly on the young man, and pursing his lips ready for the
jocose supposition that Harlan foresaw and anticipated.
"No," he declared, flushing, "it isn't that way. It hasn't gone that
far, Governor. I ask your pardon for mentioning my personal affairs,
especially an affair of this sort. But I should be very sorry to break
off my friendship with the Pressons."
The Governor went back to his chair, and sat down in it. He wrinkled his
brows and took a long survey of his embarrassed caller.
"I'm afraid I spoke of the case of our mutual friend Presson in rather
harsh terms. It would not work like that. Of course, he would bow to the
inevitable if such a law were passed. But if it becomes a personal
matter in any respect, Mr. Thornton, do you believe that any member of
Presson's family would be offended if Presson were made to obey the
law?"
"Well, if he persisted against the new law, it would be a pretty hard
position for any fair person to defend," admitted the young man.
"I think we may depend on it that this young person, admittedly
'fair'--at my age I can be allowed to bestow that compliment--will
respect your integrity. I do not command you to do the service--I cannot
do that. But I shall be disappointed if you allow personal reasons to
interfere with your public duties. I have depended on you to do it. I
have only a few that I can trust."
At that instant, in the presence of this man who had sacrificed so much,
Harlan felt that his own interests were too petty for consideration.
He put the document into his pocket.
"Forgive me for hesitating, Governor Waymouth. I'm afraid I'll never
make a very good public servant. But I'll try to hold my eyes straight
ahead after this."
"Keep the paper in your pocket. Think it all over. You're at the place
every man reaches. What you want to do and what you ought to do split
very sharply sometimes. I'll let you decide. I have no more to say."
Harlan walked back to the hotel, trying to adjust himself to this new
phase of the question. Once more he had been called upon to lead the
charge of the forlorn hope. He had not the same thrill of zealous
loyalty as before. He was a little hurt because the Governor had made
the affairs of his heart of so small importance. An old man's austerity
could not understand, perhaps, but nevertheless Harlan felt that he was
entitled to some consideration. He had not acquired an old man's calm
poise--he was not entirely willing to put politics ahead of everything
else, now that he found there were so many other things in life. Was it
not true that the mass preferred to pay court to high ideals in the
abstract, and bitterly resented any attempt by sincere individuals to
enforce the actual? He understood rather vaguely that he would be
applauded by the radicals--he had met their leaders and did not like
them--he would get the applause the mob gives to "a well-meaning
fellow," but more than all he would be sneered at behind his back as "a
crank trying to reorganize human nature," and therefore to be shunned.
He had been mingling intimately with the chief men of the State; he knew
what kind of comment they had for others. Most of all, he knew that the
mild applause of the mob would not be loud enough to drown out those
familiar voices nearest him--he had heard those voices many times
before: there was his grandfather, there was Luke Presson, there were
the political associates with whom he had already begun to train on the
basis of compromise.
There was Luke Presson's daughter!
He strode into the lobby of the hotel, his face gloomy and his thoughts
dark. Linton stepped forward to meet him, hat and overcoat on. It was
evident that he had been waiting. The sight of him did not improve
Harlan's temper. From the first day of the session they had eyed each
other malevolently. They had bristled at every possible point of
contact. Linton's last exploit had been a speech favoring the railroad
tax rebate, a speech in which he scored those who opposed it as enemies
to the development of the State. The fervor of his eloquence had made
even Harlan Thornton doubt, sourly, whether a constitution that was
framed before the exigencies of progress were dreamed of should be too
rigidly construed. That was still another point where he and his
grandfather disagreed, and the cogent speech of Linton had been the
cause of further dispute between them. The Duke was disgusted because
his grandson could be so scrupulous that he could not be progressive.
For Harlan the straight path of rectitude was fringed with signs set
there by friends, every sign inscribed "Fool." From the first, Linton
had seemed to aggravate his difficulties, politically and personally.
"Can you give me a few minutes of your time?" he asked, stiffly.
"If it's business, and important, yes," returned Harlan, scowling.
"I should not bother you with anything except business. And as this is
of a private nature, I must ask you to invite me to your room."
Harlan led the way to the elevator.
Linton did not remove his overcoat when they were closeted together. He
stood with hat in his hand.
"It may surprise you to learn that my business concerns Miss Presson and
the legislative ball to-morrow evening," began Linton, but Harlan
indignantly broke in.
"You can have no possible business with me, sir, in which Miss
Presson's name may be mentioned. Don't you use her name--not in any way.
Do you understand?"
"I understand this: I know what I'm talking about and exactly why I've
come here, and you're going to listen. Miss Presson has accepted your
escort to the ball to-morrow evening. Don't you know, Thornton, why you
can't take Madeleine Presson into public, this whole State looking on? I
hate to say any more than that. I don't think it's necessary for me to
say any more than that!" His face was hard, his tone accusing.
"I tell you, you have no right to mention Miss Presson to me!" cried the
other.
"I'm taking it on myself, and I'm giving you a chance by doing it,"
retorted Linton. "The story is bad enough now. But you'll be drummed out
of this State if you insult an innocent girl in the way you plan to do."
In his indignation Thornton had been slow to grasp the fact that his
rival was making hints that both affronted and threatened. His
conscience accused him of nothing. He felt the crackle of paper in his
breast-pocket. He promptly suspected that Linton had gleaned a hint of
the proposed legislation which would involve Madeleine's father.
He tried to control his anger.
"Will you kindly explain to me by just what right you say this," he
sneered--"except, possibly, that you're jealous because Miss Presson
chose me as her escort."
"I have a right as a friend of her mother, if nothing else! I am keeping
this thing as still as I can for your sake, for in this case protecting
you means protecting her. I don't want to say any more! But sudden
illness must prevent you from accompanying Miss Presson into public at
that ball."
Harlan beat a palm upon his own breast.
"I've had enough of this, Linton. You tell me what you're driving at."
It was plain that Linton hated to be more explicit. This culprit did not
seem to quail before vague accusation, as he had expected him to do. He
was faced by a young man whose face was lighted by wrath, curiosity, and
kindred emotions that were obviously not those of guilt.
"Let me say this in my own defence," pleaded Linton. "Spinney was going
right to Mr. and Mrs. Presson with the story. I got it from him almost
by accident. We were talking over our railroad bill this evening, and he
mentioned your stand. Then he out with the story that he picked up when
he was in Fort Canibas. I do not listen to gossip, Mr. Thornton, but it
is plain that Spinney has facts. I have inquired in a prudent way of
other men from your section. He has the story, but what they say
confirms it."
Harlan listened, his blank amazement depriving him of speech.
"I've said enough now, haven't I?" asked Linton, significantly.
"No, by God, you haven't!" shouted the other, coming out of his lethargy
of astonishment. The recollection of Spinney's sinister hints came to
him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that a man who will fool and throw over a girl in a way that
drives her away from home and friends is no fit escort--"
He got no further. He knew a thoroughly maddened and dangerous man when
he saw one. He stepped back when Harlan dashed at him, and Thornton
halted of his own accord. After a time he calmed himself enough to
speak.
"I'll not begin with you, Linton. I'll begin with the man who started
that damnable lie. Oh, that--that--!" He flailed his arms about his
head, unable to express himself. "You've been lied to. You don't know
any better than to say that. If you hadn't been jealous you'd never have
brought the story to me. I'll make allowances," he raved on; "but the
man who started that story will swallow it with teeth and blood mixed."
He stamped about the room. It was so horrible that he could not grasp
the enormity of the lie all at once.
Linton was impressed but not routed. He waited till Harlan was quieter.
"I hope you'll get it straightened out," he said, coldly. "But with a
story like that extant, of course you'll see the wisdom of the course
I've suggested. You cannot afford to drag Miss Presson's name into your
affair."
"Into my affair! You dirty pup, do you dare to intimate--are you lunatic
enough to take stock in any such story about me?"
The epithets sent the color into Linton's face. But he restrained
himself.
"Your own grandfather had to take you in hand about the matter before
you left Fort Canibas, Thornton. I heard him say that much myself. He
gave no details. I don't care for any. I merely came to you to bring a
hint as to what you ought to do. You don't seem to take the hint. If you
haven't got manliness enough yourself to keep away from Miss Presson
until this story--well, put it mildly, and say until this story is run
down--then I propose to insist that you do so."
"Look here, Linton, I've usually got pretty good control of myself. I'm
trying to hold myself in now--trying as hard as I can. What you have
told me is a lie--a damnable lie. See? I say it calmly." He was
quivering. "You don't know what you're talking about. I haven't the
patience to explain to you. It's none of your business. You keep away
from me. Now don't put any more strain on my self-control--in God's
name, don't do it, Linton!"
"I am making no secret of my hopes in regard to Miss Presson," stated
Linton, firmly. "I have been waiting until I could offer her what she
has been accustomed to. You have the advantage of me in money, Thornton.
But you're welcome to that! My hopes give me the right to guard her from
scandal. I insist that you relieve her of your presence to-morrow
evening!"
Harlan, shaken, gray with passion, his teeth set over his lower lip,
rushed to the door and threw it open.
"D--n you, you get on the outside!" he panted. "I'm in the mood to kill
you!"
Linton went. By his visit and his warning he had thrown a sop to his
conscience. He had approached Harlan Thornton with something like
desperation. Under his calmness he had long-hidden, consuming passion
for Madeleine Presson--a love that had grown through the years, and now
waited a fitting time of expression and the endorsement of assured
position. If he had any doubts of the truth of the shameful story he had
brought he concealed those doubts--he would not admit them to himself.
He proposed to win the girl. He chose any weapons that would rout the
interloper.
"I warn you that I shall protect her," he said, from the corridor.
"Take a warning from me, too: you get into my affairs, and you'll find
hell fires cooler!"
"Your affairs do seem to have that flavor," declared Linton, walking
away.
Thornton hurried to the headquarters that the corporations maintained in
the hotel for Spinney. Spinney was not there. He ran back to his room
and telephoned to the clerk of the hotel. He was informed that Mr.
Spinney had gone away for a few days.
It was late, but he threw on his coat and hastened up street to the
Presson home. The windows were dark. He did not have the assurance to
arouse the family at that time of night.
By that time, walking in the crisp air of the winter night, he had
soothed, somewhat, his fever of anger, sorrow, and shame.
Calmer, he had thoughts only for the bitter wrong that had been done
Clare Kavanagh. Somehow it seemed that all were leagued against her--and
him! Memory of her unselfishness, her simple faith in him, her
abnegation, her true, little-woman trust in his career--it all rushed
upon him. For a time he was almost ashamed to face what memory brought
to him. Then manfully he set himself to read his heart--at least, he
tried to. In the end, hidden in his room, he wept--honest tears of a
strong man conscious that he was unable by his strength to hold disaster
from an innocent. Even his attempt to find the rogue, Spinney, was
futile. He wept, thinking of Clare Kavanagh--exiled from her home,
bravely solving her problem of life alone. He went to sleep thinking of
Clare Kavanagh.
It was fortunate for his self-respect that she filled his mind so
completely at that moment. Otherwise the reflection that he had led
himself by degrees to covet the brains and beauty of Madeleine Presson
would have convinced him that in his relations with women he was either
fool or knave.
Youth, untried in the ways of women and the wiles of loving and the
everlasting problem of what the heart most truly desires, has wondered
and wept the long ages through!