The Candidate: A Political Romance
truth, and knew it--and as soon as this campaign was over, and the
Eastern youth had disappeared, she would forget him.
Mr. Plummer regarded this youth out of the corner of his eye, and while
he pitied him for his ignorance of life, he was bound to admit that
Harley was a handsome fellow, tall, well knit, and with an air of
self-reliance. Evidently there was good stuff in him, and he would
amount to something when he was trained and mature, although the "King"
concluded that he needed a great deal of training. But he could not fail
to feel respect for Harley's presence of mind, his calm, and his ease.
The youth showed no fear of him, no sign of apprehension, and the
mountaineer gave him credit for it.
Sylvia was glad when they stopped in one of the lower glades to rest and
eat of the food which had been so amply provided for them. But she was
proud of Harley and the manner in which he had taken upon himself all
the burden. His conduct went far to justify in her eyes his confident
prediction, and, secretly approving, she watched the ease with which he
bore himself among the blunt mountaineers and the handsome manner in
which he affiliated. She noticed that they seemed to think of Harley as
one like Jimmy Grayson--that is, one of themselves--and they never
considered him raw or green in any respect.
Her confidence in Harley and the momentary elation returned as they
stood there in this cup in the mountain-side and looked out upon the
expanse of peak and plain. She ate, too, with an appetite that the
mountain air sharpened, and she thrilled with strength and hope.
Mr. Plummer, from some motive that she did not understand, kept himself
in the background during the stop; nor did she know how his big heart
was filled with wrath and gloom. But as he stood silently at the
farthest rim of the circle, he resolved to push his fortunes, which was
in accordance with his nature.
"Will you walk to the edge of the cove with me?" he said to the
candidate, when he saw that the latter had finished his luncheon, and
Mr. Grayson, without a word, complied with his request.
Jimmy Grayson must have had some premonition of what was to come,
because he obeyed his first impulse, and glanced at Harley and Sylvia,
who were standing together. He was confirmed in his thought when he saw
the look of gloom and resolve upon the face of his friend.
"I want to speak to you of Sylvia," said "King" Plummer, in tones of
hurry, as if it cost him an effort. "It's about our marriage. I think I
ought to hurry it up a little. You see--well, you can't help seeing,
that, compared with Sylvia, I'm old. I'm not really old, but I'm old
enough to be her father, an' youth has a way that's pretty hard to break
of turnin' to youth."
"Yes," said Jimmy Grayson.
"Sylvia's just a girl; she don't seem much more 'n a child to me, an'
lately she's been travellin' about a heap, an' she's met new people.
Now, I don't blame her, don't think that, because it's natural, but here
is this young writin' chap."
"Harley, you mean?"
"Yes. An' I'm not sayin' anythin' against him, either, though writin'
has never been much in my line, but he an' Sylvia seem to have taken a
sort of shine to each other--I don't know whether it amounts to any more
than that, though I suppose it could if it was give a chance; but down
there in Queen City he did more for her than I did, or anybody else, and
I suppose that tells with a girl. Well, you saw 'em together as we
walked out here, an' I'm bound to admit that they make a powerful likely
couple."
He hesitated, as if he were waiting for the candidate to speak, but Mr.
Grayson was silent. He glanced once at the strong face of Plummer,
drawn as if in pain, and then he looked into the valley a thousand feet
below. Jimmy Grayson did not care to speak.
"I ain't a blind man," continued the "King." "I may not be too smart,
but still things don't have to be driven into me with a wedge. If Sylvia
and Harley were left to themselves, they would fall deep in love, I can
see that; but I tell you, Mr. Grayson, she's mine, she belongs to me,
because I've earned her, and because she's promised herself to me, too,
an' I can't give her up. Still, if it's wrong, if I ought to let her
have her promise back, I'll do it anyhow. An' that's why I've asked you
to walk out here. I don't like much to speak to another man of a thing
right next to my heart, but I want to ask you, Mr. Grayson--you are her
uncle an' my best friend--what do you think I ought to do?"
It was hard to embarrass Jimmy Grayson, but he was embarrassed now. He
would rather any other man in the world had asked him any other
question. Sylvia was his niece, and her happiness was dear to him.
Harley, too, had found a place in his heart. And when he glanced at them
again and saw them still together, it seemed fit and right that they
should continue so through life. But there was "King" Plummer, an honest
man, and his claim could not be denied. And his mind could not help
asking this insidious little question, "If Sylvia is allowed to throw
over 'King' Plummer, will he not sulk and allow the Mountain States,
passing from her uncle, to go into the other column?" Jimmy Grayson
would not have been human if he had not heard this little question
demanding an answer, but he resolutely resisted it.
"What do you say?" asked Mr. Plummer. "I'd risk much on your advice."
"I was studying your question, because in a case like this a man has to
think of so many things, and then may miss the right one. But, Mr.
Plummer, I don't know what to say; I think, however, I'd wait. Sylvia is
a good girl, and I know you can trust her. But they are beckoning to us;
they are ready to start."
He was glad of that start, because it saved him from further discussion
of the problem, and Mr. Plummer went back with him moodily.
Yet the resolve in the "King's" mind had only been strengthened by his
talk with the candidate. The danger of Sylvia slipping through his
fingers because of his own want of precaution made her all the more dear
to him, and he was determined to take that precaution now. So he was
watchful throughout the remainder of the journey, seeking his
opportunity, and it came towards the twilight, as they saw the first
houses of the railroad station rise upon the horizon.
Mrs. Grayson, Hobart, Blaisdell, the state politicians, and, all the
others came out to meet them, and for a while there was a turmoil of
voices asking questions and answering them. Presently Sylvia slipped
from the group, and Mr. Plummer followed her towards the hotel.
"Sylvia," he said, "wait for me. I have some thing to say."
She recognized an unusual tone in his voice and she was frightened. She
felt an almost irresistible impulse to run and to hide herself in some
dim room of the hotel. But she did not do it; instead, she waited and
walked by his side.
"Sylvia," he said, "the perils and hardships of the trip we are just
finishin' have set me to thinkin' hard."
She trembled again. She felt as if he were going to say something that
she would not like to hear.
"That trip was full of dangers for you, and, as we go through all this
Western country, there may be more to come. I want the right, Sylvia, to
look after you, to look after you more closely than I've ever done
before, and to do that, Sylvia, I've got to be your husband."
"I have promised."
"I know you have, an' I know you'll keep your promise. But I want you to
keep it now. Why couldn't we get married, say next week, and make this
campaign one big weddin' tour. I think it would be grand, Sylvia, an'
it's right easy to arrange."
He paused, awaiting her answer, but she had suddenly lost all her color,
and, despite herself, she trembled violently.
"Oh no!" she cried, "not now! It would be better to wait. Why break up
this pleasant--Oh, I don't mean that! I mean, why not go on as we are
through the campaign, and afterwards we could talk of--of--what you
propose? Anything else now would be so unusual. I think we'd better
wait!"
She spoke almost breathlessly under impulse, and then she stopped
suddenly as if afraid. The color poured back into her face, and she
waited timidly.
The King of the Mountains, who had never known fear, was gripped by a
cold chill. He had delivered his master-stroke and it had failed.
"We'll wait, Sylvia," he said, gloomily. "Of course a woman's wish in
such a matter as this is law, and more than law."
"Oh, daddy, don't you see how it is?" she cried, moved by his tone. "I'm
but twenty-two. I don't want to marry just yet. I haven't seen enough of
this big world. Why can't we wait a little?"
"Don't be afraid, child; no one shall make you marry when you don't want
to," he said, soothingly and protectingly, and this role became him
superbly. "The subject sha'n't be mentioned to you again while the
campaign lasts."
"You are the best man in the world, daddy!" she exclaimed. Suddenly she
rose on tiptoe, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and then ran away.
"King" Plummer walked gravely back to the lobby of the hotel, where a
crowd was gathered.
Harley was one of this crowd, and on entering the room he had been met
at once by Churchill, upon whose face was a look of consternation.
"Harley," he asked, "is the report true that Grayson was in danger of
being kidnapped by bandits on this trip to Crow's Wing?"
"It is true, every word of it."
"My God! what will Europe say?" exclaimed Churchill, aghast.
Harley laughed, but he did not attempt to reason with Churchill. He knew
that the correspondent of the _Monitor_ was too far gone to be reached
by argument.
Churchill sent a lurid despatch to the _Monitor_, describing in detail
the folly and recklessness of the candidate, and the manner in which he
neglected the great issues of the campaign for the sake of impulses,
which always terminated in frivolous or dangerous adventures. And the
_Monitor_ fully backed up its correspondent, because, when the issue of
the paper that published the despatch reached them, it also contained
an editorial, in which the editor wrote in anguish of heart:
"We have supported Mr. Grayson in this campaign with as much zeal
and energy as our moral sense would permit. We have given him full
credit for all the virtues that he may possess, and we have been
willing at all times for him to profit by our experience and
advice. But our readers will bear witness that we have never failed
in courage to denounce the wrong, even if it should be in our own
house. Our easy, and on the whole superficial, American temperament
condones too many things. Never was it more noticeable than in the
vital issues of this Presidential campaign. The yellow journals are
making a great noise over Mr. Grayson; they shout about his
oratory, his generosity, and his noble impulses until the really
serious minority of us can scarcely hear; but the grave, thoughtful
people, those who are recognized in Europe as the real leaders of
American opinion, will not be put down. Despite the turmoil of the
childish, we have never lost our heads. The _Monitor_, from the
very first, has perceived the truth, and it has the courage to tell
it. We contribute this advice willingly and without charge to those
who are conducting the campaign.
"The youthful and flamboyant qualities must be eradicated from Mr.
Grayson. Our young republic cannot afford to be discredited in the
eyes of Europe by the sensational or frivolous actions of one who
is nominated by a great party for the high office of President.
This last adventure with brigands in the mountains is really more
than our patience will bear, and our readers know that our patience