The Mayor of Warwick Part 22

The experience had wrought a wonderful transformation in Leigh.

Emmet's initial triumph and his claims were now forgotten. Had the mayor been allowed to speak, he would doubtless have scored a hit, but Cobbens had succeeded in reducing him to a mere p.a.w.n. The people had thrust him forward on the board; Cobbens had neatly lifted him off and usurped his square. The mayor's position had been far from heroic, battered between contending forces and finally rescued by the President's strong arm. Doubtless Cobbens had killed himself politically, but he had won a certain kind of victory. Emmet was already beaten when he failed to grasp the opportunity the President's visit presented and allowed the committee to thrust him aside. No amount of subsequent championing could restore him to a position of dignity. His enemies had decided that he must not be allowed to introduce the President, for they knew he would do it well. They had brought the fury of the people down upon their heads, but they had exhibited their chosen representative before them in a mute and inglorious role. They had even succeeded in making him an object of pity. The damage he had received in the imagination of his supporters was incalculable, and while they burned with indignation, they instinctively paid a treacherous tribute to Cobbens's amazing cleverness and audacity.

Though no such tribute was paid the lawyer by Leigh, it was still true that the turn of affairs forced Emmet from his consideration until, instead of a star of the first magnitude, he became a mere point of light, and finally disappeared. During the President's speech, he felt that he had been holding secret communion with Felicity, and the acc.u.mulated excitement of the evening worked in his thoughts an unexpected license and daring. It was possible to allow Emmet's claims when he was receiving the homage of the people alone, and she had not yet appeared; but her presence had revived the old pa.s.sionate torment in his heart. Love returned triumphant, making light of all other claims and considerations.

Upon some natures oratory, the successful swaying of the crowd, has the same effect, irrespective of the tone and content of the speech, that is produced by the harmony of a great orchestra, an effect of exaltation and lawlessness. In the young mathematician this responsiveness was a marked trait, at variance with another more coldly intellectual quality. He began to feel that he ranged at will, freed from artificial and unreal restraints. He, too, would do some great thing. On that full wave of excitement he was carried beyond the dikes which in cooler moments he had erected against himself.

When the audience arose to depart, he looked longingly in the direction of the box in which Felicity sat. He would fain have leaped upon the stage and have gone to her before she could escape him; he was burning to speak to her, to hear her voice and touch her hand. But her departure with her friends was little less than precipitate. It did not now occur to her lover that she might wish to avoid her husband; as far as he was concerned, she had no husband. He only appreciated his own disappointment, and stood chafing before the stupid herd that blocked his way to the street.

In this mood he cared not at all to discuss the events of the evening with his companion; but Cardington was full of caustic comment.

"It was a great occasion," he mused. "We have seen what we came out to see, and what more have we a right to demand? The dear people rampant, the respected mayor quiescent, but biding his time, Cobbens couchant but fanged, the President raised to a sublime apotheosis. It is always a pleasure--is it not?--to witness transcendent ability, even if it be in the line of practical politics. The perfection of each thing is worth observing. These local politicians are fools compared with the President, mere blundering tyros in the hands of a master of the craft." His eyes began to gleam with merriment. "And, by the way, that was a n.o.ble effort of Mr. Cobbens, 'apples of gold in pitchers of silver.'"

His soliloquy lasted unbroken until they reached the street. To his companion there was now no inspiration in the moonlight, no sweetness in the unusual mildness of the air. His restless eyes searched in vain the long line of carriages, but Felicity was nowhere to be seen. He caught sight of the bishop driving off alone, and Cardington noticed the direction of his glance.

"Ah," he said, "the bishop is doubtless about to betake himself to the final reception to the President at the Warwick Club. Which reminds me that the Bradford House is only a short walk from here."

CHAPTER XV

"I PLUCKED THE ROSE, IMPATIENT OF DELAY"

The Bradford House was a famous hostelry, and had long been deservedly popular for its cuisine. It was a pleasure to sit in the long, low cafe, to observe the rafters of natural wood, the antique fireplace, and the mural paintings ill.u.s.trating scenes from Colonial history: the landing at Plymouth Rock, the death of Miantonomoh, the Boston Tea Party. Still more pleasant it was, while the colonists attacked the Pequods on the wall, to attack a lobster salad or a welsh rabbit on the table, and to reflect that the main business of men _fruges consumere nati_ was no longer to fight Indians.

Some such comforting reflection seemed to be mirrored in the genial countenance of Professor Littleford, as he sat with Miss Wycliffe and the Parrs in a corner, listening to the music that floated in from the room beyond, and viewing the scene through the smoke of his cigarette.

He and Miss Wycliffe had a full view of the room, to which the Parrs had shown their indifference by turning their backs, Mrs. Parr being absorbed in her own excited comments upon the scene in the opera house, while her husband was earnestly employed in the business which had brought him to that place. In fact, he had pleasantly occupied the major time of the President's speech in gustatory antic.i.p.ations that were now being realised to his perfect satisfaction; and if he thought of the mayor at all, it was to reflect that Emmets could come and go without changing the flavour of his favourite viands.

"It was fortunate," Littleford remarked, "that I telephoned over and reserved this table, but I 'm afraid our friends have disappointed us."

He glanced uneasily at the chairs leaning one against each end of the table, and then over the room. In all that crowd of eager talkers there was practically but one theme of conversation, the recent scene in the opera house, and but one verdict, praise of the committee. In obscure saloons the same topic was bandied back and forth over bars dripping with beer, but there the verdict went the other way. Could all the excited comment on this subject, all the oaths and laughter, have been collected into one volume of sound, what a mighty roar would have ascended, shattering the far quiet of the moonlit night!

As Littleford looked across the room, three men entered the door and began to make their way between the tables in his direction. The first was Cobbens, his hat in the bend of his arm, as if it had rested there continuously since his performance on the platform. He was acutely conscious of the interest his appearance aroused, and bowed from left to right with his nervous, expansive smile, a Gallic personality in manner and dress. It was evident that he felt himself among friends, and regarded his entrance as something of a triumphal progress. To him social Warwick was the world, and its approval was commendation enough, in spite of the President's rebuke. He by no means estimated at its full value the hatred he had won from the ma.s.ses, and to see him now, a pleased and genial person, the fact was hard to realise. His companions, or rather, the men who followed in his wake, were Cardington and Leigh. They had left their hats and coats in the check-room, and were following the lawyer's lead instinctively, as men will in the mazes of a crowded place. At the same moment Littleford held up his hand and the bishop's daughter indicated her presence and her welcome by a beckoning motion of her napkin. All three men saw the signal and accepted it.

Littleford's brow clouded slightly at sight of Leigh, and his greeting of the young man was a shade less cordial than his greeting of the other two. There were three men and two chairs, which was awkward, and he was expecting only Swigart and Cobbens. Cardington was always welcome, but the astronomer was still an outsider, and the present excitement was one of peculiarly local interest. Had Leigh been a man of means, Littleford would have commanded the waiter to find another chair somewhere, even at the risk of being obliged to compress his ample form against the wall; but now he retained his seat in deliberate helplessness, hoping that the situation would presently be adjusted by the tactful withdrawal of the only supernumerary of the party.

Unhappily for this hope, the supernumerary was not disposed to regard himself as such. He may have known that Cobbens would have left his hat outside had he intended to remain, but at all events, it needed only Miss Wycliffe's smile of welcome to justify him in taking the chair beside her.

Her acknowledgement of the lawyer's greeting was brief and perfunctory, as if she forgot to masque her indifference; and just as unconsciously she betrayed her partiality for the young astronomer by those minute signals which a woman displays when off her guard. She swayed toward him almost imperceptibly, and looked at him with content, as a woman looks at the man she loves before she realises more than her desire to have him near.

Cobbens began to apologise for himself and the judge. "I forgot that of course we were expected at the club, when I promised to meet you here; but it seems we are still on dress parade."

"Let me congratulate you," Mrs. Parr interposed, "for putting that creature in his place."

"It was neat," Littleford commented, with appreciation.

Felicity glanced up from her conversation with Leigh to meet an unmistakable desire for her judgment in the lawyer's eyes. The winning prettiness of her manner, the transient glow, were gone in an instant, to be replaced by an expression almost stony in its unhappiness.

"Something had to be done," Cobbens observed modestly, "to maintain the dignity of the city."

The moment was epic in its possibilities, to two of the men present.

Cobbens might interpret an expression of approval on her part as a sign that she forgave him for humiliating her _protege_ and had outgrown her fancy, but to Leigh such an expression would mean infinitely more.

Thus they waited, each hoping for the significant and illuminating word. But none was given. At the lawyer's mention of dignity in connection with himself, a slight smile hovered about the corners of her lips, but it found no reflection in the cold brightness of her eyes. She made as if she failed to realise that a comment was expected, or as if the subject were not of sufficient interest to move her to speak. The hiatus was closed before its existence could be felt, except by the three so vitally concerned.

"I did think," Littleford explained, "that it would be pleasanter here because of the jam at the club. That's why I proposed that you and Swigart slip away."

The lawyer, perhaps not yet convinced that he had played and lost, now addressed Felicity directly. "Won't you come to the reception with Mr.

Littleford and me, Miss Wycliffe? I brought my machine around for the express purpose of carrying you off."

"I 'm too comfortable to move now," she answered coolly, "and I don't propose to make the President shake hands with me twice in one day.

Besides, I want to have a little chat with Mr. Leigh. We have n't met for ages. Mr. Littleford, I know you want to go,"--

"I deny it," he interposed gallantly.

--"and as I refuse to move, I don't see why my stubbornness should keep you away from something more interesting."

"In other words," Cobbens said, with as good a grace as his disappointment would allow, "we have received our _conge_, and had better not stand upon the order of our going."

She greeted this declaration with laughing protest, but the two went off together, Littleford being eager to get from one of the partic.i.p.ants the inside history of the scene he had witnessed, and Cobbens well aware that to remain would be to subject himself gratuitously to the humiliation of taking a second place in her attention.

Leigh, exhilarated by his good fortune, was impervious to the keen, malicious glance the lawyer had bestowed upon him, while Cardington, who had stood by during the whole colloquy in perfect silence, did not even now venture to seat himself, but looked down upon Felicity with the mute reproach of one neglected.

"Mr. Cardington," she said gaily, "don't stand there like a clock-tower, without striking a note, but take Mr. Littleford's place here by me."

He did as she commanded, and having given his order, he took out a cigarette and puffed meditatively.

"Now please don't fall into the doleful doldrums," she protested, "when we 've had such an enlivening evening."

"A most effective alliteration," he murmured, but without spontaneity.

It was evident that the doldrums were very real with him, for he made no effort to take part in the ensuing conversation, in spite of the fact that the subject was one which might have aroused him to his best endeavours.

Felicity's mood was a revelation to Leigh, though he could not fail to divine its cause, and to guess the emotions she had undergone. Had her pride led her to defend her husband, or had she been reserved and sad, he would not have been surprised, but her sparkle and gaiety were like the glancing of light on the surface of a rock. She even shared in Mrs. Parr's ecstatic triumph over Emmet and echoed her praise of Cobbens, but with a subtle effect of mockery, so that her friend was presently reduced to a hurt and bewildered silence. In all this Leigh saw the effect of her husband's humiliation upon her, that it had torn from the mayor the last shred of the glamour with which her foolish fancy had once surrounded him. He was moved to speculate upon her probable att.i.tude, had Emmet seized his opportunity and risen adequately to the occasion, but the speculation was fruitless, and the present topic of conversation full of hazard to himself. He was guiltless of the vulgarity of showing an animus against Emmet, guiltless also of the hypocrisy of defending him against his wife; and he embraced the opportunity Mrs. Parr's discomfiture offered of turning the talk to Bermuda.

How much of this psychological drama was visible to Cardington it would be impossible to say, but apparently he was lost to his surroundings, for he allowed the others to thresh out the Emmet incident without the a.s.sistance of his own able flail. Not until the conversation turned to Bermuda did he arouse himself from his reverie and take the lead. The topic suggested to his mind the influence of climate upon architecture and the arts, and presently he was exploring distant ramifications of the theme.

"I feel it inc.u.mbent upon myself," Cardington said, "to confess that I gave Mr. Emmet my careful consideration this evening, during the moments I could spare from a contemplation of our Chief Executive, and I must say that I found him the more interesting study of the two. I began to demolish my earlier views, or prejudices, and to build up a new opinion of the man. Fairness compels me to admit that I got a different conception of his possibilities. As I sat looking at him, expecting to see every sign of demoralisation in his aspect, I began to perceive that he by no means regarded himself down and out for good, if you will allow the sporting phrase. Mr. Emmet was fooled this time, but he will not be fooled again. I thought I could see that he had learned his lesson well, and if I were Mr. Anthony Cobbens, I should feel the stirring of a very considerable doubt as to the ultimate outcome of the struggle to which he has now committed himself. Perhaps he has provoked a jinnee in that young man which will one day rise up and envelop him in a cloud of political suffocation. Don't you think so, Miss Felicity?"

He looked at her inquiringly, antic.i.p.ating her acquiescence. In his expression the ideal and impersonal quality that const.i.tuted his peculiar charm was now apparent, and suggested an inward exaltation, as if he had gained a victory over himself and had made an honourable amend. Leigh, watching her with tense emotion, saw that she was deeply impressed, and he seemed to read the record of her thoughts in the shadows that came and went within her eyes. She was weighing her husband's qualities and possibilities in the scales of this unexpected opinion, and the decision hung suspended in the balance. As he divined her secret struggle and realised that she might go back to the man who did not love her, who wished to use her for his own advancement, he suffered an agony of jealousy that was well-nigh insupportable.

For a few moments she delayed to answer, toying with her fork in thoughtful abstraction. In fact, her love for the young astronomer beside her was contending with the old desire to control her husband and to make him a figure in the world. In the inmost recesses of her heart she knew that she no longer loved Emmet, and that they could never wholly meet. What she did not, perhaps, so frankly own was the fact that she had found too late the man she could have loved and for whom she should have waited. With him she had common social experiences and religious traditions, and time had taught her the value of these things she had once imagined she despised. But, after all, it was the right man against the wrong man, irrespective of such considerations. Now that Emmet was mayor, she found she did not care; the prize was an apple of Sodom in her hand. He had even lost the picturesqueness which appeared to be his in another sphere, without gaining in compensation the things that were Leigh's by inheritance.

The argument went against him now, if that could be called an argument which was only a question of love. She looked up finally with a smile that seemed to indicate indifference, or the weary shelving of a long vexed question.

"Perhaps you are right," she answered. "I 'm sure I don't presume to say."

Cardington rose to his feet abruptly, and his glance seemed one of judgment upon her.

"A scandalous proceeding!" he broke out. "This night's work was a scandalous proceeding." Her startled flush arrested him, and his tone attained a sudden jocularity. "Well, I must leave you here to fight it out among yourselves. I have a piece of work that is calling loudly to me from the hill. Good-night!" He paid his bill, and strode away without another word.

"I never knew a man with such a range of learning," Leigh said; "he makes the rest of us seem like ignoramuses."