The Candidate: A Political Romance
"The editor, also, makes comment upon this warning," said Hobart, who
was undeniably enjoying himself.
"I should think that the despatch was enough," said Mrs. Grayson, whose
indignation was not yet cooled.
"But it isn't, Mrs. Grayson," said Hobart; "at least, the editor of the
_Monitor_ does not think so. Listen.
"'The campaign in behalf of our party has begun in the West, and we have
felt the need of thoroughly reliable news from that quarter, free from
the sensationalism and levity which we are sorry to say so often
disgrace our American newspapers, and make them compare unfavorably with
the graver and statelier columns of the English press.'"
"He is an Englishman himself," said Harley--"American opinion through an
English channel."
Even Jimmy Grayson laughed.
"'At last we have obtained this information,'" continued Hobart,
reading, "'and we are able to present it to-day to those earnest and
sincere people, the cultivated minority who really count, and who
constitute the leaven in the mass of the light and frivolous American
people. A trusted correspondent of ours, judicious, impartial,
absolutely devoid of prejudices, has obtained from high sources with
which common journalistic circles are never in touch----'"
"How the bird befouls its own nest!" said the elderly Tremaine.
"'--information that will throw much light upon a campaign and a
candidate both obscure hitherto. This we present upon another page, and,
as our cultivated readers will readily infer, the candidate, Mr.
Grayson, is not a bad man----'"
"Thanks for that crowning mercy," said Mr. Grayson.
"--but neither is he a great one; in short, he is, at least for the
present, narrow and provincial; moreover, he is of an impulsive
temperament that is likely to lead him into untrodden and dangerous
paths. Our best hope lies in the fact that Mr. Grayson, who has not
shown himself intractable, may be brought to see this, and will rely
upon the advice of those who are fitted to lead rather than upon the
reckless fancies of the Boys who are sure to surround him if he gives
them a chance. In this emergency we are sure that all the best in the
state will rally with us. The eyes of Europe are upon us, and we must
vindicate ourselves.'"
"Uncle James," said Sylvia Morgan, sweetly, "I trust that you will
remember throughout the campaign that the eye of Europe is upon you, and
conduct yourself accordingly. I have noticed that in many of your
speeches you seemed to be unconscious of the fact that Vienna and St.
Petersburg were watching you. Such behavior will never do."
Mr. Grayson smiled once more. He seemed to be less disturbed than any
one else at the table, yet he knew that this was in truth a warning
given by an important wing of the party, and, therefore, he must take
thought of it. A prominent politician of Michigan was present, the guest
of Mr. Grayson, and he did not take the threat as calmly as the
candidate.
"The writer of this despatch is with your party, I suppose," he said to
Mr. Grayson.
"Oh yes; it is Mr. Churchill. He has been with us since the start."
"I would not let him go a mile farther; a man who writes like that--why,
it's a positive insult to you!--should not be allowed on your train."
The Michigan man's face flushed red, and in his anger he brought his
hand down heavily on the table; but Harley did not look at him, his full
attention being reserved for the candidate. Here was a test of his
bigness. Would he prove equal to it?
"I am afraid that would be a mistake," said Jimmy Grayson, amiably, to
the Michigan man, "a mistake in two respects: our Constitution
guarantees the freedom of the press, and the _Monitor_ and its
correspondent have a right to write that way, if they wish to do so; and
if we were to expel Mr. Churchill, it would give them all the greater
ground for complaint. Now, perhaps I am, after all, a narrow and
ignorant person who needs restraint."
He spoke the last sentence in such a whimsical tone and with such a
frank smile that they were all forced to laugh, even the Michigan man.
But Harley felt relief. The candidate had shown no littleness.
"I was sure that you would return such an answer, Uncle James," said
Sylvia Morgan, and the look that she gave him was full of faith. "Now, I
mean to help you by converting Mr. Churchill."
"How will you do that?"
"I shall smile upon him, use my winning ways, and draw him into the
fold."
There was a slight edge to her voice, and Harley was not sure of her
meaning; but he and she were together in the parlor an hour later, when
they met Churchill, and he had a chance to see. Churchill evidently was
not expecting to find them there, but he assumed an important air,
knowing that his despatches had been received and read, and feeling,
therefore, that he was the author of a sensation. He anticipated
hostility; he believed that Mr. Grayson's relatives and friends would
assail him with harsh words, and he had spoken already to one or two
persons of the six months' ordeal that he would have to endure. "But we
must stand such things when they are incurred in the line of duty," he
said, "and I have a way which, perhaps, will teach them to be not so
ready in attacking me." He expected such a foray against him now, and
his manner became haughty in the presence of Sylvia Morgan and Harley.
"We--that is, all of us--have just been reading your despatch in the
_Monitor_," she said, in a most winning tone, "and on behalf of Uncle
James I want to thank you, Mr. Churchill."
Churchill looked surprised but doubtful, and did not abate the stiffness
of his attitude nor the severity of his gaze.
"We do feel grateful to you," she continued, in the same winning tone.
"There was never a man more willing than Uncle James to learn, and,
coming out of the depths of the West, he knows that he needs help. And
how beautifully you write, Mr. Churchill! It was all put so delicately
that no one could possibly take offence."
It was impossible to resist her manner, the honey of her words, and
Churchill, who felt that she was but giving credit where credit was due,
became less stern.
"Do you really like it, Miss Morgan?" he asked, and he permitted himself
a smile.
"Oh yes," she replied, "and I noticed that the _Monitor_ alone contained
an article of this character, all about those big men who are watching
over Uncle James, and will not let him go wrong. That is what you
correspondents call a beat, isn't it?"
Churchill gave Harley a glance of triumph, but he replied, gravely:
"I believe it is what we call a beat, Miss Morgan."
"And you will continue to help us in the same way, won't you, Mr.
Churchill?" she continued. "You know who those great men are; Mr.
Harley, here, I am sure does not, nor does Mr. Blaisdell nor Mr. Hobart;
you alone, as the _Monitor_ says, can come into touch with such
important circles, and you will warn us again and again in the columns
of the _Monitor_ when we are about to get into the wrong path. Oh, it
would be a great service, and I know that Uncle James would appreciate
it! You will be with us throughout the campaign, and you will have the
chance! Now, promise me, Mr. Churchill, that you will do it."
Her manner had become most appealing, and her face was slightly flushed.
It was not the first time that Harley realized how handsome she was, and
how winning she could be. It was his first thought, then, what a woman
this mountain maid would make, and his second that "King" Plummer should
continue to look upon her as his daughter--she was too young to be his
wife.
Nor was Churchill proof against her beauty and her blandishments. He
felt suddenly that for her sake he could overlook some of Mr. Grayson's
faults, or at least seek to amend them. It was not hard to make a
promise to a pair of lovely eyes that craved his help.
"Well, Miss Morgan," he said, graciously, "since it is you who ask it, I
will do my best. You know I am not really hostile to Mr. Grayson. The
_Monitor_ and I are of his party, and we shall certainly support him as
long as he will let us."
"You are so kind!" she said. "You have seen so much of the world, Mr.
Churchill, that you can help us greatly. Uncle James, as I told you, is
always willing to learn, and he will keep a sharp watch on the
_Monitor_."
"The _Monitor_, as I need not tell you," said Churchill, "is the chief
organ in New York of good government, and it is never frivolous or
inconsequential. I had hoped that what I sent from Milwaukee would have
its effect, and I am glad to see, Miss Morgan, that it has."
Churchill now permitted himself a smile longer and more complacent, and
Harley felt a slight touch of pity that any man should be blinded thus
by conceit. And Sylvia did not spare him; by alternate flattery and
appeal she drew him further into the toils, and Harley was surprised at
her skill. She did not seem to him now the girl from Idaho, the child of
the mountains and of massacre, but a woman of variable moods, and all of
them attractive, no whit inferior to her Eastern sisters in the
delicate airs and graces that he was wont to associate with feminine
perfection.
As for Churchill, he yielded completely to her spell, not without some
condescension and a memory of his own superiority, but he felt himself
willing to comply with her request, particularly because it involved no
sacrifice on his own part. He and the _Monitor_ would certainly keep
watch over Mr. Grayson, and he would never hesitate to write the words
of warning when ever he felt that they were needed.
"Why did you treat him that way?" asked Harley, when Churchill had gone.
"What do you mean by 'that way'?" she asked, and her chin took on a
saucy uplift.
"Well, to be plain, why did you make a fool of him?"
"Was my help needed?"
Harley laughed.
"Don't be too hard on Churchill," he said, "he's the creature of
circumstance. Besides, you must not forget that he is going to watch
over Mr. Grayson."
Churchill did not join the general group until shortly before the
departure for the evening speech, and then he approached with an
undeniable air of hostility and defence, expecting to be attacked and
having in readiness the weapons with which he had assured himself that
he could repel them. Miss Morgan, it is true, had received him well, but
she, so he had begun to believe, was a girl of perception and
discrimination, and the fine taste shown by her would not be exhibited
by others. The candidate, surprising him much, received him cordially,
though not effusively, and he was made welcome in similar manner by the
others. There was no allusion whatever to his despatch, but he found
himself included in the general gossip, just as if he were one of a
group of good comrades.
Yet Churchill was not wholly pleased. His great stroke seemed to be
ignored by all except Miss Morgan, when they ought to be stirred deeply
by it, and he felt a sense of diminished importance. There should be
confusion among them, or at least trepidation. He closely studied the
faces of Mr. Grayson and the others to see if they were merely masking
their fire, but no attack came either then or later.
Thus two or three days passed, and the campaign deepened and popular
interest increased. Not since the eve of the Civil War had there been
such complexity and intensity of interests, and never before had the
personal factor been so strong. Out of the vast turmoil quickly emerged
James Grayson as the most picturesque figure that ever appeared upon the
stage of national politics in America. His powerful oratory, his daring,
and his magnetic personality drew the eyes of all, and Harley saw that
wherever he might be there the fight would be thickest. The
correspondent's intuition had been right; he had come from a war on the