his fist down upon the table with a thud. "I take exception to your
remarks, from first to last. I consider myself fully competent to deal
with the situation, and you may depend, sir, I shall do so at my own
time, and in my own way. If Mr. Peter Rathbawne supposes that he can
defy reason and justice at will, and that the state authorities are
prepared to support him, he is grossly and fatally mistaken. Gentlemen,
I have the honor to bid you good-day!"
For a quarter-minute, the two men stood facing each other, without
speaking. It was observable that the eyes of neither flinched. Then--
"It is my earnest hope, Elijah Abbott," said the Colonel slowly, "to see
you impeached by a righteously indignant community, and committed for a
term of years to the State's Prison at Mowberly, for rank malfeasance
in office!"
The Governor shrugged his shoulders.
"Your record and your position protect you, Colonel Broadcastle," he
said, with something of his usual suavity. "Will you have the goodness
to retire?"
As the Citizens' Committee left the room the Lieutenant-Governor turned
on his heel, passed into his office, and closed the door.
For a long time he sat motionless at his desk, with his temples in his
hands, staring at a frame upon the opposite wall, which contained the
emblazoned arms of Alleghenia. These were a hand holding even balances,
upon a circular shield, supported by the nude figures of two young men,
representing Art and Labor. Above, upon a scroll, were the words,
"_Justitia. Lex. Integritas._"
It was not only bad heraldry, but indifferently appropriate symbolism.
IX
THE NINTH PASSES IN REVIEW
The huge armory of the Ninth, transformed, by the same system which had
metamorphosed the _personnel_ of the regiment itself, from a gaunt,
barn-like structure, ill-fitted to its purpose in all but size, to the
most cheerful, as well as the most completely equipped, of Alleghenian
arsenals, was blazing with light and echoing to the sound of many
voices. A steady stream of people poured in at the heavy doors, now
standing wide, but significant, with their great timbers, elaborate
locks and bolts, and precautionary peep-holes, of the possibility of an
attitude less hospitable. Threading their way at a rapid pace through
the more sluggish main current of the crowd, the members of the
regiment, in an infinite variety of civilian attire,--from tweeds and
knickerbockers to top-hats and evening-dress,--sought their respective
company-rooms, vanished therein, and, presently, reappeared in uniform.
It was as if behind those ten doors which lined the upper corridor there
were as many moulds, identical in form, whereinto this perplexing
diversity of raw material was plunged on entering, to be drawn forth
again in a constant reduplication of militiamen.
As the hour for the review drew near, the proportion of these to the
throng with which they mingled, perceptibly increasing, seemed, little
by little, to leaven the whole lump. The dress-uniform of the Ninth was
everywhere, the black shakos and epaulettes, white pompons, cross-belts
and gloves, and multiplicity of brass buttons, lending the immense
assemblage a singular spirit and vivacity.
On the floor of the drill-room the people spread in all directions,
fan-like, from the main doorway, the multitudinous footfalls mounting
murmurously into the spaces of the lofty roof, where forty arc-lights
hung, dizzily suspended, pallid in the thin haze of dust swung upwards
from the hurrying feet of the thousands below.
"Precisely like an army of ants--and every one of them with an uncle or
two, and a round dozen of nephews and nieces!" said Mrs. Wynyard.
She and the Rathbawne girls were looking down upon the drill-floor
from the balcony of the Colonel's room. Broadcastle and the
Lieutenant-Governor were deep in conversation inside, having seized the
delay in the arrival of Governor Abbott as an opportunity for a few
words in private.
"How funny they are, scuttling along, all of them!" said Dorothy. "And
how immensely pleased the favored ones are, who have a soldier to show
them the way. I see a distinct difference in their walk from that of the
others, don't you, Natalie? They seem to be saying '_We_ were
_invited_--and by this splendiferous creature at our side!' See how they
strut! And look at the soldierless ones, how timidly they go--just as if
they had found their tickets in the street, or had crept in through the
basement windows. 'Please, kind Mr. Soldier-man, let us stay and see the
show. We'll be _awf'ly_ good!'"
"How preposterous you are, Dorothy!" answered Mrs. Wynyard. "Look! The
people are taking to the sides of the room already, and the companies
are forming. What astonishing method and precision there is to it all!
Do you suppose each man has a little circle marked on the floor, to show
just where he is to stand?"
"I haven't the most remote doubt of it," said Natalie, with a
smile,--"and his name neatly lettered inside it with gilt paint!"
The long, enclosed racks at the ends of the drill-room were open now,
and the electric light winked upon the barrels of the Springfields, as
busy, white-gloved hands plied the polishing cloths along them. The
enormous drill-floor, cleared as if by magic from the disorderly
weed-growth which had encumbered it, began to make manifest its proper
crop--long lines of gray and white, like sprouting sage, at first but a
dot here and there, to indicate the direction, then a scattering, then
distinct clumps, finally a thick, serried row. In the distance, a bugle
sounded, followed by a long ruffle of drums, and Colonel Broadcastle
stepped quickly to the window of the balcony.
"There's the Governor," he said. "Will you come in? I'll send my orderly
to show you to your seats."
At the same moment, the door from the corridor opened, and the orderly
entered, his hand at his shako.
"Sir, the Governor has arrived."
Then, as the trio on the balcony stepped in through the window, he
turned suddenly and superlatively scarlet. As has been said, young
Nisbet was accustomed to getting what he wanted. In this instance what
he had wanted happened to be that the Adjutant should choose him from
the guard detail as Colonel's orderly. To be thus chosen was to be
admittedly the most immaculate of thirty men, all more immaculate than a
thousand immaculate others. The thing was not easy of achievement, but
Dorothy Rathbawne was to be present at the review, and so--there was no
second way about it--it simply had to be done. Young Nisbet's way of
doing it was an absolutely new uniform and gold-plated buttons and
accoutrements. Extravagance? Vanity? Perhaps! But at the present moment,
he was wearing one cross-belt where his thousand and odd comrades were
wearing two. There was no answer to such an argument as that.
Colonel Broadcastle had reserved seats for the party on the temporary
reviewing stand, and, five minutes after they had taken their places,
the bugles sang again, a curt order--"'shun! 'shun!"--ran in varying
intonations from company to company, and the slack gray ranks before
them stiffened into absolute rigidity. Then from the broad hallway
beyond came a tremendous burst of sound, and, to the strains of the
famous old march of the Ninth, the regimental band swung into view,
followed by Governor Abbott and Colonel Broadcastle and the former's
staff.
To the Lieutenant-Governor, but newly returned from his wearisome round
of the state armories, much of what followed was so stale as to be no
more than a constantly increasing strain upon nerves already overtaxed.
He deliberately allowed his attention to wander, until he felt rather
than actually perceived the steady tramp-tramp of the men, swinging,
fours right, into column, the occasional "hep! hep!" of an officious
file-closer, the endless succession of fours winking past him, like the
palings of a gray fence seen from the window of a train, the intervals
narrowed by short-step, widening again at the "Forward--_march_!" the
blare of the band, lessening as it approached the further end of the
building, then suddenly bursting into its former volume at the
right-about. He endured it all listlessly. It was tediously familiar,
stamped upon his brain by repetition after repetition.
Moreover, he was completely fagged, and unutterably oppressed by his
burden of discouragement. The old wounds, in part healed by his recent
absence from the immediate vicinity of his constant discomfiture, had
been re-opened and set bleeding afresh by Governor Abbott's treatment of
the Citizens' Committee. Whatever lingering hope had remained in his
mind of peace with honor for the troubled capital of Alleghenia, seemed
to have been effectually dispelled by that interview. The most enduring
charity, the most fatuous credulity, the blindest partisanship--even
these could not have preserved a last spark of confidence in Elijah
Abbott. Still less was Barclay's indeterminate hope of the ultimate
triumph of right able to stand against such crushing evidence of its
instability. It was no longer a question of suspicions, of precedents,
of deductions from the significance of a host of former misdoings. Out
of his own mouth was the Governor convicted. "At my own time, and in my
own way," he had said. It was a phrase, nothing more, and could be
boiled down until its whole purport was contained in one word--Never!
"Fours _left_--_March_! Compan_ee_--_halt_!"
The entire regiment, as one man, swung from column of fours into
battalion front, halted, and then--cr-r-rick! boooo-m-m-m!--came to
order arms. The sides of the room were lined with a solid rampart of
white and gray and gold. Barclay was aware of the First Sergeants,
scurrying from their positions to report, of their voices, and those of
the Majors and the Adjutant, and, finally the Colonel:--
"Take your post, sir!"
But his thoughts were anywhere and everywhere else. What a farce it all
was, this life which he was leading, this mental and moral martyrdom to
an impossible hope, this eternal and heart-sickening ordeal of hope
deferred, this waiting, waiting, waiting, for something which never
would and never could happen! Rotten, rotten to the core, this state for
which he would have given his heart's blood, and not only rotten, but
not caring a whit for her rottenness--glorying rather, in her own
degradation. The chief executive had flung back into their very faces
the appeal to his conscience of the most influential men in Kenton
City; the police, even now seated about their station stoves, were
sniggling at the predicament of the public which paid them for its
protection against precisely the kind of thing which they openly
tolerated and encouraged; yes, and even the militia, the guarantee of
law and order, Broadcastle's own command, were decked out in tinsel and
pipeclay, strutting to music in a palpable bid for applause and
admiration. And yonder--the tide of anarchy was slowly but surely rising
about the Rathbawne Mills, presaging riot, bloodshed, God alone knew
what!--but one thing, inevitably,--the absolute downfall of dignity and
rout of decency in Alleghenia!
Suddenly, his old intrepid spirit of resolution reasserted itself, but
doubtfully, like the flame of a lamp flaring once out of dimness before
it dies forever. Was it for this that he had devoted the best thought of
his youth and his earlier manhood to plans for the betterment of his
state? Should he now, at this, the hour of her supremest political and
moral peril, desert her as irredeemable, and join the ranks of those who
sneered at her, and pointed mocking fingers at her shame and nakedness?
"Your loquacity faintly suggests that of a mummy," said Natalie, at his
side.
"I was alone with my thoughts," answered the Lieutenant-Governor,
turning to her with an attempt at a smile, "and pretty black ones they
were, at that!"
"Alleghenia again?"
"Alleghenia again--and always. This business is becoming an obsession
with me. I haven't had a chance to tell you, and I can't very well
explain now. I'll have to leave it till I see you to-morrow. But
something happened to-day which drove another nail--and one of the
last!--into the coffin of my faith. There's not a gleam of hope
anywhere."
"Don't you see hope in all this?" asked Natalie, with a little,
indicative gesture toward the scene before them. "Somehow, it is
impressing me tremendously to-night--more than ever before. I seem to
understand better what it means, what it stands for."
"It's a stale enough story with me," said Barclay. "Remember, I've been
doing just about nothing but watch this kind of thing for the past two
weeks. After all, what does it amount to but a thousand possibilities
parading like peacocks?"
"How unlike you, that speech! It amounts to a vast deal more than that,
Johnny boy,--oh, infinitely more! I don't speak of the other regiments
you have seen. This is different. Well, what _does_ it amount to? Who
and what are these thousand peacocks of yours? Aren't they the very
flower of Kenton City, the youngest and best blood in our veins,
gathered by one good man's will into an organization of sterling
loyalty, with one great aim in view, and that the support and protection
and preservation of all that is best in Alleghenia? The very fact that
such a body of men exists among us is in the nature of a guarantee, it
seems to me, that we shall come out all right in the end. Have you
noticed their faces?--many of them so absurdly boyish, all of them so
honest, and manly, and--and--_American_, John! They are the
personifications of your ideal of that afternoon in the
library--Americans, and something more--Alleghenians! And, to prove it,
they are freely giving a portion of their time and their strength, in
order that there may be at least one thing in Kenton City which is
without fear and without reproach. I wonder--I wonder, John, whether it
isn't the old story, after all: whether you haven't been wandering all
over the world, like the prince in the fairy-book, looking for the magic
talisman that is to save the state you love, while, all the time, it has
been lying at your very door? Oh, this means something--I'm too stupid
to interpret it as you could--but I know it's there, and that it would
help you and encourage you. Let me try. Look there! A single purpose
animates them all--the maintenance of the standard which Colonel
Broadcastle set for them, and the record they have made for themselves."
Colonel Broadcastle's voice was sweeping the armory, as he put the
regiment through the manual of arms.
"One has only to hear one of them--Mr. Nisbet, for example--say 'the
Ninth' to find the hope of which you are in search. These men say it as
others say 'God' or 'my mother'--as you yourself, Johnny boy, say
'Alleghenia.'"
"Charge--_bay'n'ts_!"
With a single click, a thousand rifles fell into position, a thousand
left feet smote the floor in unison, and the light rippled and twinkled
along a solid line of flashing steel.
"There! A single voice,--a single, mighty response! Don't you see the
wonderful suggestiveness of it? Don't you feel the presence of the
enormous reserve force which lies behind all this? Oh, believe me, John,
this is a weapon too mighty to lie unused, and too intelligent to be
misused, if the worst come to the worst. After all, as no one knows
better than yourself, it's not your own advancement you're looking for,
it's that of the state. Well, there may be other agencies, perhaps
entirely independent of you or of your influence, but none the less
invaluable. For example, you are close upon despair--and yet, before
your fears come true, the forces of wrong will have to fight their way,
step by step, through this rampart of American manhood!"
Barclay touched her hand lightly, as she ceased speaking. In the midst
of the thousands about them, they were alone as they had never been
before.
"Thank you," he said simply. "Thank you, littlest and wisest in the
world!"
The regiment was in motion again, skirting the room in column of fours,
preparatory to the march-past: but now the Lieutenant-Governor surveyed
it from a new, and a dual point-of-view,--as a thousand individuals,
that is, each a potential factor for immeasurable good in the coming
rehabilitation of the state; and, then, as a vast fighting-machine
perfect in every detail, resistless and awe-inspiring in its very
integrity. He noted the faces as they passed--stern, intelligent faces,
young, for the most part, and curiously refined, intent upon correct
performance of the present duty, and touched, almost without exception,
with an enthusiasm born of the martial music and the rhythmic tramp of
advancing feet. He saw the quick, reciprocal glance of the pivot and
flank men, as the fours, in perfect alignment, swept round into
company-front; the long, easy compression and give of the compact lines,
acquiring correct adjustment; the rigid tenure of chests and shoulders;
the firm fling of slender gray legs, as regularly intervaled as the
teeth of a giant comb. Company by company, the regiment fell into the
cadence of full-step. Midway, the standards of the Republic and
Alleghenia rippled side by side. And so, with blare of brass and sharp
staccato of snare-drums, with sheen of rifles and accoutrements, with
flash of slender swords, raised in salute,--above all and always, with
that magnificent unanimity, that mighty pulse of the thunderous
advance, the Ninth swept past its Governor and its Colonel in review.
And then, in an instant, as it seemed, the vast square was formed again,
a sharp command rang out, the rifles snapped to a present-arms, the
standards dipped, and the strains of the "Star-Spangled Banner" mounted
triumphantly to the great girders of the lofty roof. The multitude of
spectators rose at the sound, and the Lieutenant-Governor rose with
them, his heart aglow with new inspiration, new hope, and new resolve.
The band was almost speaking the words of the anthem on the dust-grayed
air:--
"Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?"
To the accompaniment of a myriad clapping hands, the Lieutenant-Governor
resumed his seat, shaken by a novel, tremendous emotion. Yes! a thousand
times yes! The star-spangled banner, symbol of loftiest ideals and
purest purposes, mute memorial and reminder of devotion incalculable and
sacrifice without bound, guarantee of liberty and brotherhood, mercy,
equality, and justice--yet waved! And, part and indissoluble portion of
its inspiring memories and illustrious destinies, the star of Alleghenia
yet blazed upon its azure field! He had been living in a world of
unrealities, in a valley of shadow, grayed by portents of failure and
despair. His eyes had been narrowed to see the pitfalls which lined his
path, to the stumbling-blocks, the briers, the indescribable sordidness
of his personal position and his immediate surroundings. Now, he looked
up and horizonward. The thunder-clouds of official depravity and
duplicity which darkened the way of his endeavor--were they able, after
all, to blot out the memory of the clear, high sky above?
As this thought came to him, it was almost as if, in actuality, a
brooding heaven had been rent asunder, revealing the steel-blue of the
infinite ether permeated with the supreme radiance of noon; and at the
incursion of this illuminating element the host of his discouragements
dwindled and disappeared, like noisome little prowlers of the night,
scuttling to cover at the abrupt break of a tropical day. For a moment,
he strove to realize whence the light had come, and in what consisted
this sovereign ally, hitherto uncalculated, of his optimism. As he
tracked his thought, it led him undeviatingly back to its direct
inspiration, the words of Natalie Rathbawne.
"Before your fears come true"--she had said.
Before his fears came true--well, what? The revelation leaped at him
full and fair now, and every nerve sang like a taut wire in answer to
its touch. Before his fears came true, this wretched little world of
petty chicanery and official corruption which surrounded and sickened
him would be wiped out of existence. Abbott--McGrath--their machinations
and their misdeeds--their lies and their ambitions--their power and
their pride,--they were newts that fouled a pool, gnats in the sunshine,
cinders on the snow. Towering above them, ready, at an instant's
notice, to crush them out of being, was the rock of ages, the righteous
spirit of Alleghenia, integral and indestructible, illumined by the
ancient, undimmed, and eternal sense of rectitude inherent in the
American people!
Not by his agency, perhaps--perhaps not even in his day,--nevertheless
and infallibly, the right was bound to conquer in the end. The clear
eyes and the firm mouths of the men of the Ninth spoke it, their rifles,
their broad shoulders, and their precision confirmed and guaranteed it,
and back of these stood the great, taciturn figure of the People, a
smile upon its calm and silent lips. When those lips should speak, as
speak they would, their words would be the annihilation of Elijah Abbott
and of all his kind!
Meanwhile--the bitterness--the disappointments--the humiliations--ah, in
a moment, how they had grown shrunken, and wizened, and old! For out of
the radiance of revelation, as Christ of old spoke to His disciples, so
now the spirit of Alleghenia spoke to her Lieutenant-Governor.
"_What is that to thee? Follow thou Me!_"
Like a woman, the spirit of her cried unto him, and, like a man, the
spirit of John Barclay answered.
X
A QUESTION AND AN ANSWER
Much to Barclay's satisfaction, Cavendish had obtained his appointment
as a city reporter on the staff of the "Sentinel." Even the first week
of the new life thus entered upon had produced a vast change in his
manner and appearance. Though the Lieutenant-Governor had seen him but
once, when he came to repay the loan made him--in itself, of all signs
of restoration to a normal attitude, the most significant--he found that
his complexion had cleared and softened, and his eye perceptibly
brightened. He was clean-shaven once more, and his dress, while of
strict simplicity, was yet suggestive of the old days when he had been
called the most fastidious man in Kenton City. He held himself
straighter, too, with his shoulders thrown back and his head up; and
Barclay had noted, with quiet gratification, that there was not a
tremor about the hands which unfolded and smoothed the bills he had come
to return. One evidence alone remained of the desperate ordeal through
which he had passed. His voice, formerly firm and vibrant with a spirit
that was half gayety, half arrogance, was now indescribably modulated,
and touched with a melancholy which was not that of servility, still
less of shame. Rather, it was an unspeakably appealing regret, a
monotonous listlessness, a suggestion of hopeless surrender to something
tragic and inevitable. Barclay was puzzled by it. It seemed illogical,
and evaded him, like a melody with a dimly familiar _motif_ which he was
unable to place or even fully recall. It haunted him singularly, when
Cavendish had left, and afterwards, in his leisure moments, came back to
him, striving, as he fancied, to make itself understood. Intimately
candid as their recent relation had been, here was something
unexplained, which he could not come at, and which was yet eloquent of
vitality, of the need of comprehension.