The Candidate: A Political Romance
explanation, Hobart in particular wishing to know. Harley lightly
ascribed it to the rarefied air, as they were ascending a plateau, and
the others, though calling it the baldest and poorest of replies, were
forced to be content.
But one man who noticed Harley, and who said nothing, guessed much
closer to the cause. It was Mr. Grayson himself, who had seen the
address on the envelope, and it aroused grave thoughts in him. Nor were
these thoughts unkind to Sylvia or Harley. It was the custom of the
candidate to subject himself at intervals to a searching mental
examination, and now he made James Grayson walk out before him again and
undergo this minute process.
He was extremely fond of Sylvia, whose grace, intelligence, and loyalty
appealed to the best in him, and he was anxious to secure her happiness
and her position in life, on which, in a measure, the former depended.
For these reasons he had received with pleasure the news that Sylvia was
going to marry Mr. Plummer. Despite the disparity of ages, the match
seemed fitting to him; he knew the worth and honor of the "King" to be
so great that the happiness of any young girl, especially that of one
who owed so much to him, ought to be safe in his keeping. But now the
doubts which had begun to form were growing stronger. He saw that nature
was playing havoc with mere material fitness, and there came to him the
question of his own duty.
The candidate now knew well enough that Sylvia did not love Mr. Plummer
as a girl should love the man whom she is going to marry, but that she
did love Harley. He conceived it, too, to be a true and lasting love
with both the young man and the young woman, and again came to him that
question of his own duty, a question not only troublesome, but dangerous
to him in his present situation. He knew that Sylvia, despite all, would
marry "King" Plummer unless the unforeseen occurred, and make herself
unhappy all her life. Should he, then, tell "King" Plummer, or have his
wife tell him in the more indirect and delicate way women have, that the
burden of the situation rested upon him, and that he ought to release
Sylvia? The candidate shrank from such a task; he could not meddle, even
when it was his own niece whom he wished to save, and there was another
thought, too, in the background which he strove honestly to keep out of
his mind; it was the old apprehension lest the "King" in his rage,
particularly when it was the candidate himself who took from him his
heart's desire, should rebel, or at least sulk and put the Mountain
States in the opposing column. It was no less true now than in the
Middle Ages that men disappointed in love some times did desperate
things, and "King" Plummer was a full-blooded, impulsive man.
Brooding much upon the question, a rare frown came to the face of Jimmy
Grayson, and stayed there so long that his followers noticed it, and
wondered much. They decided that it was the revolt within the party, and
did not disturb him, but his wife, more acute, knew that it was not
politics, and, sitting down beside him, waited silently until he should
speak, as she knew he would in time. A full hour passed thus, and
scarcely any one in the train uttered a word. The candidate gazed
gloomily out of the window, but he did not see the mountains and the
canons as they shot by. Most of the state politicians slept in their
seats, and the correspondents either wrote or communed with themselves.
Mr. Grayson rose at last, and, saying to his wife, "I should like a word
with you in private," led the way to the drawing-room. She followed,
knowing that he wished to speak of the trouble on his mind, and she made
a shrewd guess as to its nature.
"Anna, it is something that I have been trying to put away from me," he
said, when they were in the privacy of the drawing-room, "but it won't
stay away. I suppose I ought to have spoken to you of it some time ago,
but I could not make up my mind to do it."
She smiled a little.
"I, too, have been dreading the subject," she said, "if it is what I
think it is. You are going to speak of Sylvia, Mr. Plummer, and Mr.
Harley."
"Yes, Harley has a letter from Sylvia, and he will have more. She
doesn't want to write to him, but she will. The girl is breaking her
heart, and I am not sure that you and I are doing what we ought to do."
"And you do not think that Mr. Plummer would make a suitable husband for
her?"
She regarded him keenly from under lowered eyelids--the question was
merely intended to lead to something else.
"That is not the point. Harley is the man she loves, and Harley is the
man she should marry."
"Should she not decide this question for herself?"
The candidate studied the face of his wife. Her words, if taken simply
as words, would seem metallic and cold, but there was an expression that
gave them a wholly different meaning to him.
"Under ordinary circumstances, yes," he said, "but the circumstances in
which Sylvia finds herself are not ordinary, and I am not sure how far
we are responsible for them."
"I undertook to act once, and I was sorry that I did so."
The candidate did not speak again for several moments, but Mrs. Grayson
read his expressive face.
"You have thought of something else," she said, "that is or seems to be
connected with this affair of Sylvia's."
"I have, and I am afraid it is that which has been holding me back."
The eyes of the two met, and, although they said no more upon that
point, they understood each other perfectly.
"Anna," said the candidate, with decision, "you must write to Mr.
Plummer. I do not shift this burden from myself to you because of any
desire to escape it, but because I know you will write the letter so
much better than I can."
Her eyes met his again, and hers shone with admiration--he was not less
brave than she had thought him.
"I do not know what will come of it," he said; "perhaps nothing, but in
any event we ought to write it."
"I will write," she said, firmly.
The candidate said nothing more but he bent down and kissed his wife on
the forehead.
When Jimmy Grayson returned from the drawing-room, they noticed that the
frown was gone from his face, and at once there was a new atmosphere in
the car. The sleepy politicians awoke and made new or old jokes; the
correspondents ceased writing, and asked Mr. Grayson what he intended to
put in his next speech. Obviously the current of life began to run full
and free again, and the incomparable scenery gliding by their
car-windows no longer passed without comment. But Mrs. Grayson, in the
drawing-room, taking much thought and care, was writing this letter,
which she addressed to Mr. Plummer, in Boise, where she heard that he
was going from Salt Lake City:
"DEAR MR. PLUMMER,--I want to tell you how we are getting on,
because I know how deeply you are interested in the campaign, and
all of us have enjoyed the way in which you affiliated with our
little group. We have been so long together now that we have become
a sort of family--speakers, writers, and well-wishers, with Mr.
Grayson as the head in virtue of his position as nominee. You have
had a large place in this family--what shall I call it?--a kind of
elder brother, one who out of the fund of his experience could
wisely lead the younger and more impulsive."
Mrs. Grayson stopped here and tapped her finger thoughtfully with the
staff of her pen. "That paragraph," she mused, "should bring home to him
the fact that he is old as compared with Sylvia and Mr. Harley, and that
is the first thing I wish to establish in his mind." Then, dipping her
pen in the ink again, she wrote:
"This, I think, is one of the reasons that our young people have
missed you so much. You were always prepared to take your part in
the entertainment of the day, but your gravity and your years,
which, without being too many, become you so much, exercised a
restraining influence upon them, and showed them the line at which
they should stop. I think that you acquired over them an influence,
in its way paternal, and it is in such a capacity that they miss
you most."
The lady's smile deepened, and in her mind was the thought that if he
did not wince at this bolt he was, indeed, impervious. Then she
continued:
"My interest in this campaign is not alone political nor personal
to Mr. Grayson, which also means myself, but I have become much
interested in those who travel with us--that is, those who have
become the members of our new family. There is Mr. Heathcote, who
was sent West as our enemy, and quickly turned to a friend. There
is Mr. Tremaine, who is such a gay old beau, and who never realizes
that he is too old for the young women with whom he wishes to
flirt."
The lady stopped again, and her smile was deeper than ever. "Now that
was unintended," she mused, "but it comes in very happily." She resumed:
"And there is Mr. Hobart, who loves mysteries, especially murder
mysteries, and who saved the life of that innocent boy. I find him
a most interesting character, but, after all, he is read with less
difficulty than Mr. Harley, who, though silent and reserved, seems
to me to be deeper and more complex. His, I am sure, is a very
strong nature--Mr. Grayson, you know, is quite fond of him, and in
certain things has got into the habit of leaning upon him. Mr.
Harley seems to me to be fitted by temperament and strength to be
the shield and support of some one. He could make the girl who
should become his wife very happy, and I am wondering if he will go
out of our West without forming such an attachment."
"That surely," thought the lady, "will bring him to the question which I
present to his mind, and he will answer it whether he will or not, by
saying this attachment has been formed, and it is for Sylvia." She
continued:
"Like Mr. Grayson, I am very fond of Mr. Harley, who has proved
himself a true friend to us, and I should like to see him
happy--that is, married to a true woman, who would not alone
receive strength, but give it, too. In the course of his vocation,
he has already roamed about the world enough, and it is time now
for him to settle down. If I had my way I should select for him one
of our fine Western girls; about twenty-one or two, I think, would
be the right age for him--there is a fitness in these things."
"I wonder if that is blunt?" she mused. "No, he will think it just
popped out, and that I was unconscious of it. I shall let it stay." Then
she resumed:
"It ought to be a girl with a temperament that is at once a match
and foil for his own. She should have a sense of humor, a gift for
light and ironic speech that can stir him without irritating him,
because he is perhaps of a cautious disposition, and hence would be
well matched with one a little bit impulsive, each exercising the
proper influence upon the other. She should be strong, too,
habituated to physical hardship, as our Western girls are. Such a
marriage, I think, would be ideal, and I expect you, Mr. Plummer,
when you rejoin us, to help me make it, should the opportunity
arise.
Yours sincerely,
"ANNA GRAYSON."
She folded the sheets, put them in the envelope, and addressed them. It
was the second time that she had written to Mr. Plummer, but with a very
different motive, and she had more confidence in the second letter than
she had ever felt in the first.
"That will cause him pain," she reflected, "but the task cannot be done
without it."