As I entered the Auditorium, and hastened to a seat beside Mr. Lister,
I saw that the vast floor was filled with men and women, but that they
were separated by a wide space. A woman whom I quickly recognized as
Allegra Alliston was speaking from the platform. As I entered she was
saying:
“Remove but this monstrous shadow which continually yawns over woman’s
life, and she promises to become the true glory of man, and to cheer
and lighten his pathway with a radiance more dazzling than his wildest
dreams ever conceived of.”
As the speaker proceeded I became conscious that I was surrounded by
a growing tumult of weeping. The deep conviction of having cruelly
oppressed and wronged and ravaged woman for unnumbered ages, which I
had seen on the strained and anxious faces of the men when I first
entered the hall, had given way to sobs and groans. The speaker paused
for a moment with emotion. Suddenly as if it had been traced by a hand
on the wall, the conviction burst upon that weeping multitude that
immeasurably above all ties of consanguinity, and even higher than
any more sentimental tie, clear and serene stood the great, practical
truth that all men and women were brothers and sisters, the children of
one common Father, and as such were forever entitled to each other’s
deepest love and compassion. Filled with this sublime thought, they
gazed at each other with the glistening, eager eyes that welcome a long
absent brother or sister.
The speaker seemed inspired with this thought. With a radiant smile,
she continued:
“You weep at the contemplation of the bitter woes of the past. Let me,
I beseech you, lift up your eyes to the near glories of a possible
future, when the new man and woman, neither oppressing nor oppressed,
shall pass down the centuries hand in hand ministering to each other
from the sweet fountains of eternal affection. Who shall say that in
that union a power may not be evolved from which Death himself shall
draw back dismayed?”
As the speaker concluded, she did not perceive that a dainty little
girl had entered the building unnoticed, and come upon the stage. In
one hand she bore a white rose, and in the other a paper to which she
sought to draw the speaker’s attention by tugging at her garments.
There was a murmur among the audience that it was the news of the
decision of the ballots, the guarantee on which the fate of not only a
single race but all races hung.
Miss Alliston caught the deep significance of the murmur. She took the
paper in her trembling hands, and pressing it against her tumultuous
bosom, advanced to the front of the platform. Instantly every man in
the great building arose, and with eyes riveted intently on the paper,
waited as if for a sentence of doom or a joyful pardon.
The fearful suspense of that crucial moment! How can I describe it? It
seemed as if the very atmosphere of the room throbbed with so high a
magnetic tension that it must burst. A deathly stillness had succeeded
the storm of weeping. Pale as marble and with one pleading glance at
the foremost row of stern, but wan-faced men, Allegra Alliston opened
the paper. For a time, which seemed agonizing ages, her eyes rested on
the contents. Then her hand containing the paper slowly dropped to her
side. A seraphic smile beamed upon her countenance, as she said, in a
voice broken with emotion:
“The shadow is removed from woman. The guarantee is granted forev----.”
But the reaction of the pent-up emotion of that awful alienation could
be stayed no longer. It seemed as though nothing in Heaven above or on
the earth beneath could restrain what followed. With a cry which must
have been heard at the throne of God, and before Allegra Alliston could
finish her sentence, the men and women in that vast hall had rushed
into each other’s arms as the uncontrollable sea rushes back to its
pristine bed. There were tears, but they were tears of such illimitable
joy as earth had never seen before, and might never see again. Homely
or handsome, it mattered not. In that souls’ jubilee there was a
brother’s and a sister’s joyful caress for every one.
It seemed as though my heart must burst at beholding the mighty
spectacle of man and woman thus forever reconciled and united as they
never had been since they were driven from the Garden of Eden. In the
vehemence of my emotions, I essayed to rise, to speak, to cry out I
know not what; but, instead, I awoke from what had been but a dream. I
was sobbing with convulsive joy.
FINIS.
* * * * *
Transcriber’s note
Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.