The Candidate: A Political Romance
were the tearing of paper, the rustling of unfolded despatches, and the
dry voice of the chairman announcing results. These votes were all from
Eastern cities, where the polls closed early and the ballots could be
counted quickly. Over the West and the Far West darkness still brooded,
and the country districts everywhere were silent.
Yet Harley knew that throughout the United States the utmost activity
prevailed. To him the night was wonderful; in a day of perfect peace
nearly twenty million votes had been cast, and the most powerful ruler
in the world had been made by the free choice of the nation, just as
four years or eight years hence another ruler would be made in his place
by the same free choice, the old giving way to the new. Now to-night
they were trying to find out who this ruler was, and no one yet could
tell.
But the tale would be told in a few hours. Harley knew that over an area
of three million square miles, as large as the ancient civilized world,
men were at work counting, down to the last remote mountain hamlet, and
putting the result on the wires as they counted it. And ninety million
people waited, ready to abide by the result, whether it was their man or
the other. To him there was something extraordinary in this organized,
this peaceful but tremendous activity. To-night all the efforts of the
world's most energetic nation were bent upon a single point. In each
state the wires talked from every town and village to a common centre,
and each state in turn, through its metropolis, talked to the common
centre of them all, and the general result of all they said would be
known to everybody before morning. It seemed marvellous to him, although
he understood it perfectly, that a few hours after the boxes were opened
the votes should be counted and accredited to the proper man.
He resumed his seat at a table, although there was yet but little for
him to write, and listened to the dry, monotonous voice of Dexter as he
called the vote. The results were still of a variable nature, gains here
and losses there, but on the whole the losses were the larger, and the
atmosphere of the room grew more discouraging. The great state of New
York, upon which they had relied, was showing every sign that it would
not justify their faith. The returns from the city of New York, from
Buffalo, Rochester, Syracuse, were all bad, and the most resolute hopes
could not make them otherwise.
"'As goes New York, so goes the Union,'" whispered Hobart, quoting an
old proverb.
"Maybe that rule will be broken at last," replied Harley, hopefully.
But even Sylvia looked gloomy. There was one thought, as these returns
came, in the minds of them all. It was that the members of the
Philipsburg Committee had made good their threat; their defection had
drawn from Grayson thousands of votes in a pivotal state, and if he had
ever had a chance of election this took it from him. Yet no one uttered
a word of reproach for Jimmy Grayson, although Harley knew that those
who called themselves practical politicians were silently upbraiding
him. He feared that they might consider their early warnings justified,
and he resented it.
A discordant note, too, was sounded by the South; Alabama, a state that
they considered sure, although by a small majority, would go for the
other man if the returns continued of the same tone. The only ray of
light came from New England, whence it had not been expected. The large
cities there were showing slight increases for Jimmy Grayson.
"Who would have thought it?" said Mr. Heathcote.
But it seemed too small to have any effect, and they turned their minds
to other parts of the country that seemed to be more promising ground.
The voice of Mr. Dexter, growing hoarse from incessant use and wholly
without expression, read a bulletin from New York:
"Great crowd in front of the residence of the Honorable Mr. Goodnight,
on upper Fifth Avenue, and he is speaking to them from the steps. Says
the election of their man is assured. Derides Mr. Grayson; says no man
can betray predominant interests and succeed. Crowd hooting the name of
Grayson."
"The traitor!" exclaimed Hobart.
But Jimmy Grayson said nothing. Harley watched him closely, and he knew
now that the candidate's expressionless face was but a mask--it was only
human that he should feel deep emotion. Harley saw his lips quiver
faintly now and then, and once or twice his eyes flashed. Down the
street, in front of the transparency, there was a tremendous noise, the
people had divided according to their predilections and were singing
rival campaign songs, but there was no disorder.
Waiters came in bearing refreshments, and during a lull in the bulletins
they ate and drank. Mrs. Grayson also joined them for a little while.
She said nothing about the news, and Harley inferred from her silence
on the point that she knew it to be discouraging. But he saw her give
her husband a glance of pride and devotion that said as plain as print,
"Even if you are beaten, you are the man who should have been elected."
She reported that the younger of the children had dropped off to sleep,
but the others were still eager.
Again some men passing the house raised a cry in derision of Jimmy
Grayson, and Mrs. Grayson's face flushed. The others did not know what
to do; they could not go out and rebuke the deriders, as that would only
make a bad matter worse, but the men soon passed on. Mrs. Grayson stayed
only a little while in the room, retiring on the plea of domestic
duties. Jimmy Grayson, too, went out to see his children, he said, but
Harley thought that man and wife wished to talk over the prospect.
The news, after the lull, began to come faster than ever. The West spoke
at last, and its first words came through Denver and Salt Lake, but its
voice was non-committal. There was nothing in it to indicate how
Colorado and Utah, both doubtful states, would go. But presently, when
Mr. Dexter broke an envelope and opened a bulletin, he laughed.
"Boys," he said, "here's faith for you: the precinct of Waterville, in
Wyoming casts every one of her votes for Grayson."
They cheered. Certainly the people who had heard Mr. Grayson's decisive
speech were loyal to him, and they should have honor despite their
fewness. But immediately behind it came a bulletin that gave them the
heaviest blow they had yet received.
"Complete returns from more than three-fourths of the precincts in the
state," read Mr. Dexter, "show beyond doubt that New Jersey has gone at
least 20,000 against Grayson."
"I never did think much of New Jersey, anyhow," said Hobart, sourly.
They laughed, but there was no mirth in the laugh. Tears rose in
Sylvia's eyes. Ten minutes later, Alabama had wheeled into line with New
Jersey it was certainly against Grayson and the news from New York was
growing worse. Harley, in his heart, knew that there was no hope of the
state, although he tried to draw encouragement from scattered votes here
and there. From the Middle West the news was mixed, but its general
tenor was not favorable. But New England was still behaving well.
"Our vote in Massachusetts surprises me," said Mr. Heathcote; "we shall
more than cut their majority in half. We shall carry Boston and
Worcester, and we are even making gains in the country districts."
"Almost complete returns from Michigan and Wisconsin show that the
former has gone for Grayson by a substantial majority, and the latter
against him by a majority about the same," read Mr. Dexter.
"Which shows that Michigan is much the finer state of the two," said
Hobart.
"One state at least is secure," said Harley.
They heard a tremendous cheer down the street in front of the
transparency, and Harley went to the window. His heart fell when he saw
that the cheer, was continued, came from the opposition crowd. It was
announced definitely on the cloth that New York had gone against
Grayson; the returns permitted no doubt of it, and there was reason why
the enemy should rejoice. Presently their own bulletins confirmed the
bad news, and announced that off in another city the bands were
serenading the other man.
Blow followed blow. Connecticut, despite gains made there, went against
Grayson by a majority, small it is true, but decisive, and Illinois and
Indiana speedily followed her bad lead. To Harley all seemed over, and
he could not take it with resignation. Jimmy Grayson was the better man
on the better platform, and he should have been elected. It was a crime
to reject him. An angry mist came over his eyes, and he walked into the
hall that no one should see it. But Mr. and Mrs. Grayson stood at the
end of the hall, evidently having just come from the children's room,
and before he could turn away he heard her say:
"We have lost, but you are still the man of the nation to me."
As he was returning he met Sylvia, and now the tears in her eyes were
plainly visible.
"John, it can't be true! He isn't beaten, is he?"
"No, it is not true, Sylvia," he said, telling what he did not believe.
"We still have a chance."
They returned at once to the room, and Mr. Grayson came in a minute
later, his face wearing the same marble mask. When two or three forced
themselves to speak encouraging words, he smiled and said there was yet
hope. But Harley had none, and he felt sure that Jimmy Grayson, too, was
without it.
"Good news from Iowa!" suddenly cried Mr. Dexter. "A despatch from Des
Moines reports heavy gains for Grayson throughout the south and west of
the state."
Here was a fresh breath of life, and for a moment they felt glad, but
North Dakota, a state for which they had hoped but scarcely expected,
soon reported against them. The good news could not last.
"Anything more from Massachusetts?" asked Mr. Heathcote.
Mr. Dexter was opening a despatch and he gave a gasp when he looked at
it.
"Massachusetts in doubt!" he exclaimed. "Grayson makes heavy gains in
the country districts as well as in the cities. Our National Committee
is claiming Massachusetts!"
There was a burst of cheering in the room. They had never even hoped for
Massachusetts. From first to last it was conceded to the enemy.
"Oh, if Massachusetts only had as many votes as New York!" groaned
Hobart. "This is so good it can't be true!"
But Sylvia smiled through her tears.
Soon there was another cheer. Fresh despatches from Massachusetts
confirmed the earlier news and made it yet better; then the state was in
doubt, now it inclined to Jimmy Grayson; the gains came in, steady and
large.
"We've got it by at least 20,000," exclaimed Mr. Dexter, exultantly.
"It's a regular upset. Who'd have thought it?"
It was true. It was known in a quarter of an hour that Massachusetts had
given a majority of 25,000 for Grayson, and behind their big sister came
New Hampshire and Rhode Island, with small but sure majorities. Jimmy
Grayson had carried three New England states, when all of them had been
conceded to the enemy, one of the most surprising changes ever known in
a Presidential election.
There were repeated cheers in the room. Even Jimmy Grayson was compelled
to smile in satisfaction. But Harley did not have hope. This, in his
opinion, was merely a pleasant incident--it could not have much effect
on the result; Massachusetts had a large vote, but those of New
Hampshire and Rhode Island were small, and there against them stood the
gigantic state of New York, towering like a mountain. New York had the
biggest vote of all, and he did not see how it could be overcome.
Harley now and then wrote a paragraph of his despatch to his newspaper,
telling of the scene at the candidate's house and how he and his friends
looked and talked, but it did not take all his time. By-and-by he went