by Booth Tarkington
When Alonzo Rawson took his seat as the Senator from Stackpole in
the upper branch of the General Assembly of the State, an expression
of pleasure and of greatness appeared to be permanently imprinted upon
his countenance. He felt that if he had not quite arrived at all which
he meant to make his own, at least he had emerged upon the arena where
he was to win it, and he looked about him for a few other strong
spirits with whom to construct a focus of power which should control
the Senate. The young man had not long to look, for within a week
after the beginning of the session these others showed themselves to
his view, rising above the general level of mediocrity and timidity,
party leaders and chiefs of factions, men who were on their feet
continually, speaking half a dozen times a day, freely and loudly. To
these, and that house at large, he felt it necessary to introduce
himself by a speech which must prove him one of the elect, and he
awaited impatiently an opening.
Alonzo had no timidity himself. He was not one of those who first
try their voices on motions to adjourn, written in form and handed out
to novices by presiding officers and leaders. He was too consious of
his own gifts, and he had been "accustomed to speaking" ever since his
days in the Stackpole City Seminary. He was under the impression,
also, that his appearance alone would command attention from his
colleagues and the gallery. He was tall; his hair was long, with a
rich waviness, rippling over both brow and collar, and he had, by
years of endeavor, succeeded in molding his features to present an
aspect of stern and thoughtful majesty whenever he "spoke."
The opportunity to show his fellows that new greatness was among
them was delayed not overlong, and Senator Rawson arose, long and bony
in his best clothes, to address the Senate with a huge voice in
denunciation of the "Sunday Baseball Bill," then upon second reading.
The classical references, which, as a born orator, he felt it
necessary to introduce, were received with acclamations which the
gavel of the Lieutenant-Governor had no power to still.
"What led to the De-cline and Fall of the Roman Empire?" he
exclaimed. "I await an answer from the advocates of this de
-generate measure! I demand an answer from them! Let me hear
from them on that subject! Why don't they speak up? They can't
give one. Not because they ain't familiar with history— no, sir!
That's not the reason! It's because they daren't, because their
answer would have to go on record against 'em! Don't any of you
try to raise it against me that I ain't speaking to the point, for I
tell you that when you encourage Sunday Baseball, or any kind of
Sabbath-breakin' on Sunday you're tryin' to start the State on the
downward path that beset Rome! I'll tell you what ruined it.
The Roman Empire started out to be the greatest nation on earth, and
they had a good start, too, just like the United States has got
to-day. Then what happened to 'em? Why, them old ancient fellers got
more interested in athletic games and gladiatorial combats and racing
and all kinds of outdoor sports, and bettin' on 'em, than they were in
oratory, or literature, or charitable institutions and good works of
all kinds, At first they were moderate and the country was prosperous.
But six days in the week wouldn't content 'em, and they went at it all
the time, so that at last they gave up the seventh day to their
sports, the way this bill wants us to do, and from that time on
the result was de-generacy and de-gradation! You better
remember that lesson, my friends, and don't try to sink this State to
the level of Rome!"
When Alonzo.Rawson wiped his dampened brow, and dropped into his
chair, he was satisfied to the core of his heart with the effect of
his maiden effort. There was not one eye in the place that was not
fixed upon him and shining with surprise and delight, while the kindly
Lieutenant-Governor, his face very red, rapped for order. The young
Senator across the aisle leaned over and shook Alonzo's hand
"That was beautiful, Senator Rawson!" he whispered. "I'm for
the bill, but I can respect a masterly opponent."
"I thank you, Senator Truslow," Alonzo returned graciously. "I am
glad to have your good opinion, Senator."
"You have it, Senator," said Truslow enthusiastically. "I hope you
intend to speak often."
"I do, Senator. I intend to make myself heard," the other answered
gravely, "upon all questions of moment."
"You will fill a great place among us, Senator!"
Then Alonzo Rawson wondered if he had not underestimated his
neighbor across the aisle; he had formed an opinion of Truslow as one
of small account and no power, for he had observed that, although this
was Truslow's second term, he had not once demanded recognition nor
attempted to take part in a debate. Instead, he seemed to spend most
of his time frittering over some desk work, though now and then he
walked up and down the aisles talking in a low voice to various
Senators. How such a man could have been elected at all, Alonzo failed
to understand. Also, Truslow was physically inconsequent, in his
colleague's estimation— "a little, insignificant, dudish kind of a
man," he had thought; one whom he would have darkly suspected of
cigarettes had he not been dumfounded to behold Truslow smoking an old
black pipe in tbe lobby. The Senator from Stackpole had looked over
the other's clothes with a disapproval that amounted to bitterness.
Truslow's attire reminded him of pictures in New York magazines, or
the dress of boys newly home from college, he didn't know which, but
he did know that it was contemptible. Consequently, after receiving
the young man's congratulations, Alonzo was conscious of the keenest
surprise at his own feeling that there might be something in him after
He decided to look him over again, more carefully to take the
measure of one who had shown himself so frankly an admirer. Waiting,
therefore, a few moments until he felt sure that Truslow's gaze had
ceased to rest upon himself, he turned to bend a surreptitious but
piercing scrutiny upon his neighbor. His glance, however, sweeping
across Truslow's shoulder toward the face, suddenly encountered
another pair of eyes beyond, so intently fixed upon himself that he
started. The clash was like two searchlights meeting— and the glorious
brown eyes that shot into Alonzo's were not the eyes of Truslow.
Truslow's desk was upon the outer aisle, and along the wall were
placed comfortable leather chairs and settees, originally intended for
the use of members of the upper house, but nearly always occupied by
their wives and daughters, or "lady-lobbyists," or other women
Leaning back with extraordinary grace, in the chair nearest
Truslow, sat the handsomest woman Alonzo had ever seen in his life.
Her long coat of soft gray fur was unrecognizable to him in connection
with any familiar breed of squirrel; her broad flat hat of the same
fur was wound with a gray veil, underneath which her heavy brown hair
seemed to exhale a mysterious glow, and never, not even in a
lithograph, had he seen features so regular or a skin so clear! And to
look into her eyes seemed to Alonzo like diving deep into clear water
and turning to stare up at the light.
His own eyes fell first. In the breathless awkwardness that beset
him they seemed to stumble shamefully down to his desk, like a country
boy getting back to his seat after a thrashing on the teacher's
platform. For the lady's gaze, profoundly liquid as it was, had not
Alonzo Rawson had neither the habit of petty analysis, nor the
inclination toward it; yet there arose within him a wonder at his own
emotion, at its strangeness and the violent reaction of it. A moment
ago his soul had been steeped in satisfaction over the figure he had
cut with his speech and the extreme enthusiasm which had been accorded
it— an extraordinarily pleasant feeling: suddenly this was gone, and
in its place he found himself almost choking with a dazed sense of
having been scathed, and at the same time understood in a way in which
he did not understand himself And yet— he and this most unusual lady
had been so mutually conscious of each other in their mysterious
interchange that he felt almost acquainted with her. Why, then, should
his head be hot with resentment? Nobody had said anything to
He seized upon the fattest of the expensive books supplied to him
by the State, opened it with emphasis and began not to read it, with
abysmal abstraction, tinglingly alert to the circumstance that Truslow
was holding a low-toned but lively conversation with the unknown. Her
laugh came to him, at once musical, quiet, and of a quality which
irritated him into saying bitterly to himself that he guessed there
was just as much refinement in Stackpole as there was in the Capital
City, and just as many old families! The clerk calling his vote upon
the "Baseball Bill" at that moment, he roared "No!" in a tone which
was profane. It seemed to him that he was avenging himself upon
somebody for something and it gave him a great deal of satisfaction.
He returned immediately to his imitation of Archimedes, only
relaxing the intensity of his attention to the text (which blurred
into jargon before his fixed gaze) when he heard that light laugh
again. He pursed his lips, looked up at the ceiling as if slightly
puzzled by some profound question beyond the reach of womankind;
solved it almost immediately, and, setting his hand to pen and paper,
wrote the capital letter "O" several hundred times on note paper
furnished by the State. So oblivious was he, apparently, to everything
but the question of statecraft which occupied him that he did not even
look up when the morning's session was adjourned and the law-makers
began to pass noisily out, until Truslow stretched an arm across the
aisle and touched him upon the shoulder.
"In a moment, Senator!" answered Alonzo in his deepest chest tones.
He made it a very short moment, in deed, for he had a wild,
breath-taking suspicion of what was coming.
"I want you to meet Mrs. Protheroe, Senator," said Truslow, rising,
as Rawson, after folding his writings with infinite care, placed them
in his breast pocket.
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am," Alonzo said in a
loud, firm voice, as he got to his feet, though the place grew vague
about him when the lady stretched a charming, slender, gloved hand to
him across Truslow's desk. He gave it several solernn shakes.
"We shouldn't have disturbed you, perhaps?" she asked, smiling
radiantly upon him. "You were at some important work, I'm afraid."
He met her eyes again, and their beauty and the thoughtful
kindliness of them fairly took his breath. "I am the chairman, ma'am,"
he replied, swallowing, "of the committee on drains and dikes."
"I knew it was something of great moment," she said gravely, "but I
was anxious to tell you that I was interested in your speech."
A few minotes later, without knowing how he bad got his hat and
coat from the cloak-room, Alonzo Rawson found himself walking slowly
through the marble vistas of the State-house to the great outer doors
with the lady and Truslow. They were talking inconsequently of the
weather, and of various legislators, but Alonzo did not know it. He
vaguely formed replies to her questions, and he hardly realized what
the questions were; he was too stirringly conscious of the rich quiet
of her voice and of the caress of the gray fur of her cloak when the
back of his hand touched it— rather accidentally— now and then, as
they moved on together.
It was a cold, quick air to which they emerged, and Alonzo, daring
to look at her, found that she had pulled the veil down over her face,
the color of which, in the keen wind, was like that of June roses seen
through morning mists. At the curb a long, low, rakish black
automobile was in waiting, the driver a mere indistinguishable
cylinder of fur.
Truslow, opening the little door of the tonneau, offered his hand
to the lady. "Come over to the club, Senator, and lunch with me," he
said. "Mrs. Protheroe won't mind dropping us there on her way."
That was an eerie ride for Alonzo, whose feet were falling upon
strange places. His pulses jumped and his eyes swam with the tears of
unlawful speed, but his big ungloved hand tingled not with the cold so
much as with the touch of that divine gray fur upon his little finger.
"You intend to make many speeches, Mr. Truslow tells me," he heard
the rich voice saying.
"Yes ma'am," he summoned himself to answer. "I expect I will. Yes,
ma'am." He paused, and then repeated, "Yes, ma'am."
She looked at him for a moment. "But you will do some work, too,
won't you?" she asked slowly.
Her intention in this passed by Alonzo at the time. "Yes, ma'am,"
he answered. "The committee work interests me greatly, especially
drains and dikes."
"I have heard," she said, as if searching his opinion, "that almost
as much is accomplished in the committee-rooms as on the floor? There—
and in the lobby and in the hotels and clubs?"
"I don't have much to do with that!" he returned quickly. "I guess
none of them lobbyists will get much out of me! I even sent back all
their railroad tickets. They needn't come near me!"
After a pause which she may have filled with unexpressed
admiration, she ventured, almost timidly: "Do you remember that it was
said that Napoleon once attributed the secret of his power over other
men to one quality?"
"I am an admirer of Napoleon," returned the Senator from Stackpole.
"I admire all great men."
"He said that he held men by his reserve."
"It can be done," observed Alonzo, and stopped, feeling that it was
more reserved to add nothing to the sentence.
"But I suppose that such a policy," she smiled upon him
inquiringly, "wouldn't have helped him much with women?"
"No," he agreed immediately. "My opinion is that a man ought to
tell a good woman everything. What is more sacred than—"
The car, turning a corner much too quickly, performed a gymnastic
squirm about an unexpected streetcar and the speech ended in a gasp,
as Alonzo, not of his own volition, half rose and pressed his cheek
closely against hers. Instantaneous as it was, his heart leaped
violently, but not with fear. Could all the things of his life that
had seemed beautiful have been compressed into one instant it would
not have brought him even the suggestion of the wild shock of joy of
that one, wherein he knew the glamourous perfume of Mrs. Protheroe's
brown hair and felt her cold cheek firm against his, with only the
gray veil between.
"I'm afraid this driver of mine will kill me some day," she said,
laughing and composedly straightening her hat. "Do you care for big
"Yes, ma'am," he answered huskily. "I haven't been in many."
"Then I'll take you again," said Mrs. Protheroe. "If you like I'll
come down to the State-house and take you out for a run in the
"When?" said the lost young man, staring at her with his mouth
"Saturday afternoon if you like. I'll be there at two."
They were in front of the club and Truslow had already jumped out.
Mrs. Protheroe gave him her hand and they exchanged a glance
significant of something more than a friendly good-by. Indeed, one
might have hazarded that there was something almost businesslike about
it. The confused Senator from Stackpole, climbing out reluctantly,
observed it not, nor could he have understood, even if he had seen,
that delicate signal which passed between his two companions.
When he was upon the ground, Mrs. Protheroe extended her hand
without speaking, but her lips formed the word "Saturday." Then she
was carried away quickly, while Alonzo, his heart hammering, stood
looking after her, born into a strange world, the touch of the gray
fur upon his little finger, the odor of her hair faintly about him,
one side of his face red, the other pale.
"To-day is Wednesday," he said, half aloud.
"Come on, Senator." Truslow took his arm and turned him toward the
The other looked upon his new friend vaguely. "Why! I forgot to
thank her for the ride," he said.
"You'll have other chances, Senator," Truslow assured him. Mrs.
Protheroe has a hobby for studying politics and she expects to come
down often. She has plenty of time— she's a widow, you know."
"I hope you didn't think," exclaimed Alonzo indignantly, "that I
thought she was a married woman!"
After lunch they walked back to the State-house together, Truslow
regarding his thoughtful companion with sidelong whimsicalness. Mrs.
Protheroe's question, suggestive of a difference between work and
speechmaking, had recurred to Alonzo, and he had determined to make
himself felt, off the floor as well as upon it. He set to this with a
fine energy that afternoon in his committee-room, and the Senator from
Stackpole knew his subject. On drains and dikes he had no equal. He
spoke convincingly to his colleagues of the committee upon every bill
that was before them, and he compelled their humblest respect. He went
earnestly at it, indeed, and sat very late that night in his room at a
nearby boarding-house, studying bills, trying to keep his mind upon
them and not to think of his strange morning and of Saturday. Finally
his neighbor in the next room, Senator Ezra Trumbull, long abed, was
awakened by his praying and groaned slightly. Trumbull meant to speak
to Rawson about his prayers, for Trumbull was an early one to bed and
they woke him every night. The partition was flimsy and Alonzo
addressed his Maker in the loud voice of those accustomed to talking
across wide out-of-door spaces. Trumbull considered it especially
unnecessary in the city; though, as a citizen of a county which loved
but little his neighbor's district, he felt that in Stackpole there
was good reason for a person to shout his prayers at the top of his
voice and even then have small chance to carry through the distance.
Still, it was a delicate matter to mention, and he put it off from day
Thursday passed slowly for Alonzo Rawson, nor was his voice lifted
in debate. There was little but routine; and the main interest of the
chamber was in the lobbying that was being done upon the "Sunday
Baseball Bill," which had passed to its third reading and would come
up for final disposition within a fortnight. This was the measure
which Alonzo had set his heart upon defeating. It was a simple enough
bill: it provided, in substance, that baseball might be played on
Sunday by professionals in the State capital, which was proud of its
league team. Naturally, it was denounced by clergymen, and deputations
of ministers and committees from women's religious societies were
constantly arriving at the State-house to protest against its passage.
The Senator from Stackpole reassured all of these with whom he talked,
and was one of their staunchest allies and supporters. He was active
in leading the wavering among his colleagues, or even the inimical,
out to meet and face the deputations. It was in this occupation that
he was engaged, on Friday afternoon, when he received a shock.
A committee of women from a church society was waiting in the
corridor, and he had rounded up a reluctant half-dozen senators and
led them forth to be interrogated as to their intentions regarding the
bill. The committee and the lawmakers soon distributed themselves into
little argumentative clumps, and Alonzo found himself in the centre of
these, with one of the ladies who had unfortunately— but, in her
enthusiasm without misgivings— begun a reproachful appeal to an
advocate of the bill whose name was Goldstein.
"Senator Goldstein," she exclaimed, "I could not believe it when I
heard that you were in favor of this measure! I have heard my husband
speak in the highest terms of your old father. May I ask you what he
thinks of it? If you voted for the desecration of Sunday by a low
baseball game, could you dare go home and face that good old man?"
"Yes, madam," said Goldstein mildly; "we are both Jews."
A low laugh rippled out from near-by, and Alonzo, turning almost
violently, beheld his lady of the furs. She was leaning back against a
broad pilaster, her hands sweeping the same big coat behind her, her
face turned toward him, but her eyes, sparklingly delighted, resting
upon Goldstein. Under the broad fur hat she made a picture as
engaging, to Alonzo Rawson, as it was bewitching. She appeared not to
see him, to be quite unconscious of him— and he believed it. Truslow
and five or six members of both houses were about her, and they all
seemed to be bending eagerly toward her. Alonzo was furious with her.
Her laugh lingered upon the air for a moment, then her glance swept
round the other way, omitting the Senator from Stackpole, who,
immediately putting into practice a reserve which would have
astonished Napoleon, swung about and quitted the deputation without a
word of farewell or explanation. He turned into the cloak-room and
paced the floor for three minutes with a malevolence which awed the
colored attendants into not brushing his coat; but, when he returned
to the corridor, cautious inquiries addressed to the tobacconist
elicited the information that the handsome lady with Senator Truslow
Truslow himself had not gone. He was lounging in his seat when
Alonzo returned and was genially talkative. The latter refrained from
replying in kind, not altogether out of reserve, but more because of a
dim suspicion (which rose within him the third time Truslow called him
"Senator" in one sentence) that his first opinion of the young man as
a lightminded person might have been correct.
There was no session the following afternoon, but Alonzo watched
the street from the windows of his committee-room, which overlooked
the splendid breadth of stone steps leading down from the great doors
to the pavement. There were some big bookcases in the room, whose
glass doors served as mirrors in which he more and more sternly
regarded the soft image of an entirely new gray satin tie, while the
conviction grew within him that (arguing from her behavior of the
previous day) she would not come and that the Stackpole girls were
nobler by far at heart than many who might wear a
king's-ransom's-worth of jewels round their throats at the opera-house
in a large city. This sentiment was heartily confirmed by the clock
when it marked half-past two. He faced the bookcase doors and struck
his breast, his open hand falling across the gray tie with tragic
violence; after which, turning for the last time to the windows, be
uttered a loud exclamation and, laying hands upon an ulster and a gray
felt hat, each as new as the satin tie, ran hurriedly from the room.
The black automobile was awaiting.
"I thought it possible you might see me from a window," said Mrs.
Protheroe as he opened the little door.
"I was just coming out," he returned, gasping for breath. "I
thought— from yesterday— you'd probably forgotten."
"Why 'from yesterday'?" she asked.
"I thought— I thought—" He faltered to a stop as the full glorious
sense of her presence overcame him. She wore the same veil.
"You thought I did not see you yesterday in the corridor?"
"I thought you might have acted more— more—"
"Well," he said, looking down at his hands, "more like you knew
we'd been introduced."
At that she sat silent, looking away from him, and he, daring a
quick glance at her, found that he might let his eyes remain upon her
face. That was a dangerous place for eyes to rest, yet Alonzo Rawson
was anxious for the risk. The car flew along the even asphalt on its
way to the country like a wild goose on a long slant of wind, and,
with his foolish fury melted inexplicably into honey, Alonzo looked at
her— and looked at her— till he would have given an arm for another
quick corner and a streetcar to send his cheek against that veiled,
cold cheek of hers again. It was not until they reached the alternate
vacant lots and bleak Queen Anne cottages of the city's ragged edge
that she broke the silence.
"You were talking to some one else," she said almost inaudibly.
"Yes, ma'am, Goldstein, but—"
"Oh, no!" She tumed toward him, lifting her hand. "You were quite
the lion among ladies."
"I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Protheroe," he said, truthfully.
"What were you talking to all those women about?"
"It was about the 'Sunday Baseball Bill.'"
"Ah! The bill you attacked in your speech last Wednesday?"
"I hear you haven't made any speeches since then," she said
"No, ma'am," he answered gently. "I kind of got the idea that I'd
better lay low for a while, at first, and get in some quiet, hard
"I understand. You are a man of intensely reserved nature."
"With men," said Alonzo, "I am. With ladies I am not so much so. I
think a good woman ought to be told—"
"But you are interested," she interrupted, "in defeating that
"Yes, ma'am," he returned. "It is an iniquitous measure."
"Mrs. Protheroe!" he exclaimed, taken aback. "I thought all the
ladies were against it. My own mother wrote to me from Stackpole that
she'd rather see me in my grave than votin' for such a bill, and I'd
rather see myself there!"
"But are you sure that you understand it?"
"I only know it desecrates the Sabbath. That's enough for me!"
She leaned toward him and his breath came quickly.
"No. You're wrong," she said, and rested the tips of her fingers
upon his sleeve.
"I don't understand why— why you say that," he faltered. "It sounds
kind of— surprising to me—"
"Listen," she said. Perhaps Mr. Truslow told you that I am studying
such things. I do not want to be an idle woman; I want to be of use to
the world, even if it must be only in small ways."
"I think that is a noble ambition!" he exclaimed. "I think all good
"Wait," she interrupted gently. "Now, that bill is a worthy one,
though it astonishes you to hear me say so. Perhaps you don't
understand the conditions. Sunday is the laboring man's only day of
recreation— and what recreation is he offered?"
"He ought to go to church," said Alonzo promptly.
"But the fact is that he doesn't— not often— not at all in
the afternoon. Wouldn't it be well to give him some wholesome way of
employing his Sunday afternoons? This bill provides for just that, and
it keeps him away from drinking, too, for it forbids the sale of
liquor on the grounds."
"Yes, I know," said Alonzo plaintively. "But it ain't right!
I was raised to respect the Sabbath and—"
"Ah, that's what you should do! You think I could believe in
anything that wouldn't make it better and more sacred?"
"Oh, no, ma'am!" he cried reproachfully. "It's only that I don't
"I am telling you." She lifted her veil and let him have the full
dazzle of her beauty. "Do you know that many thousands of laboring
people spend their Sundays drinking and carousing about the low
country road-houses because the game is played at such places on
Sunday? They go there because they never get a chance to see it played
in the city. And don't you understand that there would be no Sunday
liquor trade, no workingmen poisoning themselves every seventh day in
the low groggeries, as hundreds of them do now, if they had something
to see that would interest them?— something as wholesome and fine as
this sport would be, under the conditions of this bill; something to
keep them in the open air, something to bring a little gayety into
their dull lives!" Her voice had grown louder and it shook a little,
with a rising emotion, though its sweetness was only the more
poignant. "Oh, my dear Senator, she cried, "don't you see how
wrong you are? Don't you want to help these poor people?"
Her fingers, which had tightened upon his sleeve, relaxed and she
leaned back, pulling the veil down over her face as if wishing to
conceal from him that her lips trembled slightly; then resting her arm
upon the leather cushions, she turned her head away from him, staring
fixedly into the gaunt beech woods lining the country road along which
they were now coursing. For a time she heard nothing from him, and the
only sound was the monotonous chug of the machine.
"I suppose you think it rather shocking to hear a woman talking
practically of such commonplace things," she said at last, in a cold
voice, just loud enough to be heard.
"No, ma'am," he said huskily.
"Then what do you think?" she cried, turning toward him
again with a quick, imperious gesture.
"I think I'd better go back to Stackpole," he answered very slowly,
"and resign my job. I don't see as I've got any business in the
"I don't understand you."
He shook his head mournfully. "It's a simple enough matter. I've
studied out a good many bills and talked 'em over and I've picked up
some influence and—"
"I know you have," she interrupted eagerly. "Mr. Truslow says that
the members of your drains-and-dikes committee follow your vote on
"Yes, ma'am," said Alonzo Rawson meekly, "but I expect they
oughtn't to. I've had a lesson this afternoon."
"You mean to say—"
"I mean that I didn't know what I was doing about that baseball
bill. I was just pig-headedly goin' ahead against it, not knowing
nothing about the conditions, and it took a lady to show me what they
were. I would have done a wrong thing if you hadn't stopped me."
"You mean," she cried, her splendid eyes widening with excitement
and delight; "you mean that you— that you—"
"I mean that I will vote for the bill!" He struck his clinched fist
upon his knee. "I come to the Legislature to do right!"
"You will, ah, you will do right in this!" Mrs. Protheroe
thrust up her veil again and her face was flushed and radiant with
triumph. "And you'll work, and you'll make a speech for the bill?"
At this the righteous exaltation began rather abruptly to simmer
down in the soul of Alonzo Rawson. He saw the consequences of too
violently reversing, and knew how difficult they might be to face.
"Well, not— not exactly," he said weakly. "I expect our best plan
would be for me to lay kind of low and not say any more about the bill
at all. Of course, I'll quit workin' against it; and on the roll-call
I'll edge close up to the clerk and say 'Aye' so that only him'll hear
me. That's done every day— and I— well, I don't just exactly like to
come out too publicly for it, after my speech and all I've done
She looked at him sharply for a short second, and then offered him
her hand and said: "Let's shake hands now on the vote. Think
what a triumph it is for me to know that I helped to show you the
"Yes, ma'am," he answered confusedly, too much occupied with
shaking her hand to know what he said. She spoke one word in an
undertone to the driver and the machine took the very shortest way
back to the city.
After this excursion several days passed before Mrs. Protheroe came
to the State-house again. Rawson was bending over the desk of Senator
Josephus Battle, the white-bearded leader of the opposition to the
"Sunday Baseball Bill," and was explaining to him the intricacies of a
certain drainage measure, when Battle, whose attention had wandered,
plucked his sleeve and whispered:
"If you want to see a mighty pretty woman that's doin' no good
here, look behind you, over there in the chair by the big fireplace at
the back of the room."
It was she whose counterpart had been in his dream's eye every
moment of the dragging days which had been vacant of her living
presence. A number of his colleagues were hanging over her almost
idiotically; her face was gay and her voice came to his ears, as he
turned, with the accent of her cadenced laughter running through her
talk like a chime of tiny bells flitting through a strain of music.
"This is the third time she's been here," said Battle, rubbing his
beard the wrong way. "She's lobbyin' for that infernal
Sabbath-Desecration bill, but we'll beat her, my son."
"Have you made her acquaintance, Senator?" asked Alonzo stiffly.
"No, sir, and I don't want to. But I knew her father— the slickest
old beat and the smoothest talker that ever waltzed up the pike. She
married rich; her husband left her a lot of real estate around here,
but she spends most of her time away. Whatever struck her to come down
and lobby for that bill I don't know— yet— but I will! Truslow's
helping her to help himself; he's got stock in the company that runs
the baseball team, but what she's up to— well, I'll bet there's a
nigger in the woodpile somewhere!"
"I expect there's a lot of talk like that!" said Alonzo, red with
anger, and taking up his papers abruptly.
"Yes, sir!" said Battle emphatically, utterly
misunderstanding the other's tone and manner. "Don't you worry, my
son. We'll kill that venomous bill right here in this chamber! We'll
kill it so dead that it won't make one flop after the axe hits it. You
and me and some others'll tend to that! Let her work that
pretty face and those eyes of hers all she wants to! I'm keepin' a
little lookout, too and I'll—"
He broke off, for the angry and perturbed Alonzo had left him and
gone to his own desk. Battle, slightly surprised, rubbed his beard the
wrong way and sauntered out to the lobby to muse over a cigar. Alonzo,
loathing Battle with a great loathing, formed bitter phrases
concerning that vicious-minded old gentleman, while for a moment he
affected to be setting his desk in order. Then he walked slowly up the
aisle, conscious of a roaring in his ears (though not aware how red
they were) as he approached the semicircle about her.
He paused within three feet of her in a sudden panic of timidity,
and then, to his consternation, she looked him squarely in the face,
over the shoulders of two of the group, and the only sign of
recognition that she exhibited was a slight frown of unmistakable
repulsion, which appeared between her handsome eyebrows.
It was very swift; only Alonzo saw it; the others had no eyes for
anything but her, and were not aware of his presence behind them, for
she did not even pause in what she was saying.
Alonzo walked slowly away with the wormwood in his heart. He had
not grown up among the young people of Stackpole without similar
experiences, but it had been his youthful boast that no girl had ever
"stopped speaking" to him without reason, or "cut a dance" with him
and afterward found opportunity to repeat the indignity.
"What have I done to her?" was perhaps the hottest
cry of his bruised soul, for the mystery was as great as the sting of
It was no balm upon that sting to see her pass him at the top of
the outer steps, half an hour later, on the arm of that one of his
colleagues who had been called the "best-dressed man in the
Legislature." She swept by him without a sign, laughing that same
laugh at some sally of her escort, and they got into the black
automobile together and were whirled away and out of sight by the
impassive bundle of furs who manipulated the wheel.
For the rest of that afternoon and the whole of that night no man,
woman, or child heard the voice of Alonzo Rawson, for he spoke to
none. He came not to the evening meal, nor was he seen by any who had
his acquaintance. He entered his room at about midnight, and Trumbull
was awakened by his neighbor's overturning a chair. No match was
struck, however, and Trombull was relieved to think that the Senator
from Stackpok intended going directly to bed without troubling to
light the gas, and that his prayers would soon be over. Such was not
the case, for no other sound came from the room, nor were Alonzo's
prayers uttered that night, though the unhappy statesman in the next
apartment could not get to sleep for several hours on account of his
nervous expectancy of them.
After this, as the day approached upon which hung the fate of the
bill which Mr. Josephus Battle was fighting, Mrs. Protheroe came to
the Senate Chamber nearly every morning and afternoon. Not once did
she appear to be conscious of Alonzo Rawson's presence, nor once did
he allow his eyes to delay upon her, though it can not be truthfully
said that he did not always know when she came, when she left, and
with whom she stood or sat or talked. He evaded all mention or
discussion of the bill or of Mrs. Protheroe; avoided Truslow (who,
strangely enough, was avoiding him) and, spending upon drains
and dikes all the energy that he could manage to concentrate, burned
the midnight oil and rubbed salt into his wounds to such marked effect
that by the evening of the Governor's Reception— upon the morning
following which the mooted bill was to come up— he offered an
impression so haggard and worn that an actor might have studied him
for a make-up as a young statesman going into a decline.
Nevertheless he dressed with great care and bitterness, and placed
the fragrant blossom of a geranium— taken from a plant belonging to
his landlady— in the lapel of his long coat before he set out.
And yet, when he came down the Governor's broad stairs, and
wandered through the big rooms, with the glare of lights above him and
the shouting of the guests ringing in his ears, a sense of emptiness
beset him; the crowded place seemed vacant and without meaning. Even
the noise sounded hollow and remote— and why had he bothered about the
geranium? He hated her and would never look at her again— but why was
she not there?
By and by, he found himself standing against a wall, where he had
been pushed by the press of people. He was wondering drearily what he
was to do with a clean plate and a napkin which a courteous negro had
handed hum, half an hour earlier, when he felt a quick jerk at his
sleeve. It was Truslow, who had worked his way along the wall, and who
now, standing on tiptoe, spoke rapidly but cautiously, close to his
"Senator, be quick," he said sharply, at the same time alert to see
that they were unobserved. "Mrs. Protheroe wants to speak to you at
once. You'll find her near the big palms under the stairway in the
He was gone— he had wormed his way half across the room— before the
other, in his simple amazement, could answer. When Alonzo at last
found a word, it was only a monosyllable, which, with his accompanying
action, left a matron of years, who was at that moment being pressed
fondly to his side, in a state of mind almost as dumfounded as his
own. "Here!" was all he said as he pressed the plate and napkin
into her hand and departed forcibly for the hall, leaving a
spectacular wreckage of trains behind him.
The upward flight of the stairway left a space underneath, upon
which, as it was screened (save for a narrow entrance) by a thicket of
palms, the crowd had not encroached. Here were placed a divan and a
couple of chairs; there was shade from the glare of gas, and the light
was dim and cool. Mrs. Protheroe had risen from the divan when Alonzo
entered this grotto, and stood waiting for him.
He stopped in the green entrance-way with a quick exclamation.
She did not seem the same woman who had put such slights upon him,
this tall, white vision of silk, with the summery scarf falling from
her shoulders. His great wrath melted at the sight of her; the pain of
his racked pride, which had been so hot in his breast, gave way to a
species of fear. She seemed not a human being, but a white spirit of
beauty and goodness who stood before him, extending two fine arms to
him in long, white gloves.
She left him to his trance for a moment, then seized both his hands
in hers and cried to him in her rapturous, low voice: "Ah, Senator,
you have come! I knew you understood!"
"Yes ma'am," he whispered chokily.
She drew him to one of the chairs and sank gracefully down upon the
divan near him.
"Mr. Truslow was so afraid you wouldn't," she went on rapidly, "but
I was sure. You see I didn't want anybody to suspect that I had any
influence with you. I didn't want them to know, even, that I'd talked
to you. It all came to me after the first day that we met. You see
I've believed in you, in your power and in your reserve, from the
first. I want all that you do to seem to come from yourself and not
from me or any one else. Oh, I believe in great, strong men who
stand upon their own feet and conquer the world for themselves! That's
your way Senator Rawson. So, you see, as they think I'm lobbying
for the bill, I wanted them to believe that your speech for it
to-morrow comes from your own great, strong mind and heart and your
sense of right and not from any suggestion of mine."
"My speech!" he stammered.
"Oh, I know," she cried; "I know you think I don't believe much in
speeches, and I don't ordinarily, but a few simple, straightforward
and vigorous words from you, to-morrow, may carry the bill through
You've made such progress, you've been so reserved that
you'll carry great weight— and there are three votes of the
drains-and-dikes that are against us now, but will follow yours
absolutely. Do you think I would have 'cut' you if it hadn't
"Oh, I know you didn't actually promise me to speak, that day. But
I knew you would when the time came! I knew that a man of power goes
over all obstacles, once his sense of right is aroused!
knew— I never doubted it, that once you felt a thing to be
right you would strike for it, with all your great strength— at all
costs— at all—"
"I can't— I— I— can't!" he whispered nervously. "Don't you see—
don't you see— I—"
She leaned toward him, lifting her face close to his. She was so
near him that the faint odor of her hair came to him again, and once
more the unfortunate Senator from Stackpole risked a meeting of his
eyes with hers, and saw the light shining far down in their depths.
At this moment the shadow of a portly man who was stroking his
beard the wrong way projected itself upon them from the narrow, green
entrance to the grotto. Neither of them perceived it.
Senator Josephus Battle passed on, but when Alonzo Rawson emerged,
a few moments later, he was pledged to utter a few simple,
straightforward, and vigorous words in favor of the bill. And— let the
shame fall upon the head of the scribe who tells it— he had kissed
The fight upon the "Sunday Baseball Bill" the next morning was the
warmest of that part of the session, though for a while the reporters
were disappointed. They were waiting for Senator Battle, who was
famous among them for the vituperative vigor of his attacks and for
the kind of personalities which made valuable copy. And yet, until the
debate was almost over, he contented himself with going quietly up and
down the aisles, whispering to the occupants of the desks, and writing
and sending a multitude of notes to his colleagues. Meanwhile, the
orators upon both sides harangued their fellows, the lobby, the
unpolitical audience, and the patient presiding officer to no effect,
so far as votes went. The general impression was that it would be
Alonzo Rawson sat bent over his desk, his eyes fixed with gentle
steadiness upon Mrs. Protheroe, who occupied the chair wllerein he had
first seen her. A senator of the opposition was finishing his
denunciation, when she turned and nodded almost imperceptibly to the
He gave her one last look of pathetic tenderness and rose.
"The Senator from Stackpole!"
"I want," Alonzo began, in his big voice— "I want to say a few
simple, straightforward but vigorous words about this bill. You may
remember I spoke against it on its second reading—"
"You did that!" shouted Senator Battle suddenly.
"I want to say now," the Senator from Stackpole continued, "that at
that time I hadn't studied the subject sufficiently. I didn't know the
conditions of the case, nor the facts, but since then a great light
has broke in upon me—"
"I should say it had! I saw it break!" was Senator Battle's second
When order was restored, Alonzo, who had become very pale, summoned
his voice again. "I think we'd ought to take into consideration that
Sunday is the working-man's only day of recreation and not drive him
into low groggeries, but give him a chance in the open air to indulge
his love of wholesome sport—"
"Such as the ancient Romans enjoyed!" interposed Battle
"No, sir!" Alonzo wheeled upon him, stung to the quick. "Such a
sport as free-born Americans and only free-born Americans can
play in this wide world— the American game of baseball, in which no
other nation of the Earth is our equal!"
This was a point scored and the cheering lasted two minutes. Then
the orator resumed:
"I say: 'Give the working-man a chance!' Is his life a happy one?
You know it ain't! Give him his one day. Don't spoil it for him
with your laws— he's only got one! I'm not goin' to take up any more
of your time, but if there's anybody here who thinks my
well-considered opinion worth following I say: 'Vote for this bill.'
It is right and virtuous and ennobling, and it ought to be passed! I
say: 'Vote for it.'"
The reporters decided that the Senator from Stackpole had "wakened
things up." The gavel rapped a long time before the chamber quieted
down, and when it did, Josephus Battle was on his feet and had
obtained the recognition of the chair.
"I wish to say, right here," he began, with a rasping
leisureliness, "that I hope no member of this honored body will take
my remarks as personal or unparliamentary— but"— he raised a
big forefinger and shook it with menace at the presiding officer at
the same time suddenly lifting his voice to an unprintable shriek— "I
say to you, sir, that the song of the siren has been heard
in the land, and the call of Delilah has been answered! When the
Senator from Stackpole rose in his chamber, less than three weeks ago,
and denounced this iniquitous measure, I heard him with pleasure— we
all heard him with pleasure— and respect! In spite of his
youth and the poor quality of his expression, we listened to him. We
knew he was sincere! What has caused the change in him? What has,
I ask? I shall not tell you, upon this floor, but I've taken mighty
good care to let most of you know, during the morning, either by word
of mouth or by note of hand! Especially those of you of the
drains-and-dikes and others who might follow this young Samson, whose
locks have been shore! I've told you all about that, and more—
I've told you the inside history of some facts about the
bill that I will not make public, because I am too confident of our
strength to defeat this devilish measure, and prefer to let our vote
speak our opinion of it! Let me not detain you longer. I thank
Long before he had finished, the Senator from Stackpole was being
held down in his chair by Truslow and several senators whose seats
were adjacent and the vote was taken amid an uproar of shouting and
confusion. When the clerk managed to proclaim the result over all
other noises, the bill was shown to be defeated and "killed," by a
majority of five votes.
A few minutes later, Alonzo Rawson, his neckwear disordered and his
face white with rage, stumbled out of the great doors upon the trail
of Battle, who had quietly hurried away to his hotel for lunch as soon
as he had voted.
The black automobile was vanishing round a corner. Truslow stood
upon the edge of the pavement staring after it ruefully:
"Where is Mrs. Protheroe?" gasped the Senator from Stackpole.
"She's gone," said the other.
"Gone back to Paris. She sails day after to-morrow. She just had
time enough to catch her train for New York after waiting to hear how
the vote went. She told me to tell you good-by, and that she was
sorry. Don't stare at me, Rawson! I guess we're in the same boat!—
Where are you going?" he finished abruptly.
Alonzo swung by him and started across the street, "To find
Battle!" the hoarse answer came back.
The conquering Josephus was leaning meditatively upon the counter
of the cigar-stand of his hotel when Alonzo found him. He took one
look at the latter's face and backed to the wall, tightening his grasp
upon the heavy-headed ebony cane it was his habit to carry, a habit
upon which he now congratulated himself.
But his precautions were needless. Alonzo stopped out of reaching
"You tell me," he said in a breaking voice; "you tell me what you
meant about Delilah and sirens and Samsons and inside facts! You tell
"You wild ass of the prairies," said Battle, "I saw you last night
behind them pa'ms! But don't you think I told it— or ever will! I just
passed the word around that she'd argued you into her way of thinkin',
same as she had a good many others. And as for the rest of it, I found
out where the nigger in the woodpile was, and I handed that out, too.
Don't you take it hard, my son, but I told you her husband left her a
good deal of land around here. She owns the ground that they use for
the baseball park, and her lease would be worth considerable more if
they could have got the right to play on Sundays!"
Senator Trumbull sat up straight, in bed, that night, and, for the
first time during his martyrdom, listened with no impatience to the
prayer which fell upon his ears.
"O Lord Almighty," through the flimsy partition came the voice of
Alonzo Rawson, quaveringly, but with growing strength: "Aid Thou me to
see my way more clear! I find it hard to tell right from wrong, and I
find myself beset with tangled wires. O God, I feel that I am
ignorant, and fall into many devices. These are strange paths wherein
Thou hast set my feet, but I feel that through Thy help, and through
great anguish, I am learning!"