The Mayor of Warwick Part 6

He had progressed from an alertness that was not free from suspicion to a fervid statement of the political situation, into which the element of his personal feelings had risen more and more to the surface. So naturally did he appear to take the mention of Miss Wycliffe that Leigh had not realised how deeply flattered he must have been by her interest. Now, at last, his very posture showed a sense of being at home, and into the brightness of his steady eyes an expression entered which could best be described as confidential.

"I meant to ask you," he said, "who it was that began to talk about me at the bishop's."

Leigh considered a moment. "We were all discussing politics--I really don't remember."

"And did Miss Wycliffe take my part against the old man?"

The question arrested Leigh's attention, and traversed his consciousness with a positive shock. It was he who was now on guard.

He would have repudiated the insinuation that he was jealous, and yet, when a man is in love, jealousy in some sort may extend even to those who cannot possibly be his rivals. As he divined that Emmet was inclined to put too personal an interpretation upon Miss Wycliffe's generosity of feeling, he was concerned to think that she might have misplaced it, that this man might have the presumption to misunderstand her. He became singularly forgetful of what had occurred at the bishop's house, and seemed not to hear a further intimation from Emmet, to the effect that he believed Miss Wycliffe was more than a match for her father. It was now that Emmet discovered a greater possibility of likeness between the bishop and his host than he had suspected so short a time before. His evident curiosity in regard to Miss Wycliffe's real purpose in sending the professor to him remained ungratified, and the necessity which now faced him of retreating from a position in which he had not been met caused him to take his actual departure presently with something of his earlier restraint of manner. They separated, like Glaucus and Diomedes, representatives of different camps, who entertained for each other personally the greatest good-will and respect. It may be, however, that each gave this a.s.surance with mental reservations more or less subconscious.

When Leigh was once more alone, he walked up and down his room restlessly for some time. His first sensation was one of exasperation with Miss Wycliffe for her ill-advised champions.h.i.+p of a man who actually seemed to have the a.s.surance to think of her otherwise than as his patroness and good friend from afar. If she suffered embarra.s.sment from it in the future, he reflected, that was only what she might have antic.i.p.ated. It would be a delicate matter to let her know her mistake. More than that--it would be impossible. Her own instinct and good sense would come to her rescue in time. Meanwhile, there was Emmet. It was delightful to think how she had failed to see his point of view, while sure that she saw it so well. He could not wonder that the man's head was slightly turned, and now that he was gone, Leigh felt no personal resentment on that score. As he reviewed the conversation of the evening, he wondered which were really the more dangerous to the state, Emmet, full of personal grievances and undigested theories, or his opponent, Judge Swigart, the cynical and aristocratic politician. If Emmet desired at present to turn the existing order of things topsy-turvy, it was because such a revolution would place him at the top. The judge, already nearer the top, was naturally a champion of things as they were, which included his position as it was. Though Leigh mused in this sophisticated vein, he nevertheless felt considerable confidence that the younger man, when he became a finished product, would be a better citizen than his political rival.

CHAPTER VI

LENA HARPSTER

The bell in the cupola of the First Church had just rung out the hour of midnight, and the slow, deep notes, which seemed to derive a certain solemnity from the graveyard below, were carried in broken echoes to the very suburbs of the city on the wings of a moist, intermittent wind. The storm of the previous night, which had lifted during the day, now seemed about to begin anew, and the air was full of a sense of unshed rain. Down in the street, where bits of waste paper and other small refuse spun around under the swaying electric lights, the huge cleaner, called "the devil waggon," was just beginning its nocturnal task. In front of the City Hall, lately such a scene of busy life, a solitary car stood ready to start upon its homeward trip, its two violet lamps winking in the wind like a pair of sleepy eyes. Only the all-night drug-store on the opposite corner kept up an appearance of wakefulness by means of a corona of milk-white lights that made a brilliant spot in the comparative obscurity of the long thoroughfare.

Whatever poetical or imaginative suggestions might lie in this scene for others, it made no such appeal to Tom Emmet as he strode along, pa.s.sing belated pedestrians in his course. He had just come from a protracted consultation with his political lieutenants, and deep in the maze of his own plans the twelve beats of the bell now reminded him that Lena Harpster must have been waiting for his coming a full hour by the gate where they had planned to meet. Even this thought could scarcely soften his mood as yet. Sure of the experience that awaited him, he was content to postpone it till the actual moment. Politics was a fact, and his love was a fact, and each was a.s.signed its appropriate time. This eye for the actualities of the moment was characteristic of the man. A street to him was only a thoroughfare, in which there were certain things that concerned him personally, or through which he must pa.s.s to reach a definite destination. To Leigh, on the contrary, it was sometimes a comparative unreality, a vista suggesting thoughts of Thebes and Babylon and Rome, a symbol of life's pilgrimage, a path where mult.i.tudinous sounds blended into a universal chant of the voyager. It was perhaps this difference that const.i.tuted an element of attraction between the two men. The star-gazer admired the practical qualities that made for success in the world below his tower, and the politician paid an involuntary tribute to a spirituality above his own.

Lena Harpster also heard the midnight bell, as she stood in the shadow of a row of tall brick mansions and gazed patiently down the alley, listening for her lover's step. She was undoubtedly as pretty a girl as could be found in Warwick; so pretty, in fact, that when she applied for a position as maid, experienced housekeepers were wont to balance her attractions against the probity of their men-folk. Not infrequently they decided that the former might weigh heavier in the scale, and reserved the place for one less favoured. She was tall and slender, with a light step and a winning grace of movement. When she spoke, her voice was pitched in a key that was pleasantly low and musical, whether from lack of physical force, or because of timidity, or in unconscious imitation of those she served. But more likely this characteristic was merely an expression of innate refinement; for Lena was of native American stock, educated in a country school of some merit; and she regarded herself as a lady, compared with the Irish maids and coloured cooks among whom her lot was cast.

Her throat was long, with a skin of peculiar whiteness. When her sleeves were rolled back while she washed the most valuable of her mistress's gla.s.ses, her arms were seen to be of such a satin smoothness as to invite instinctively a caressing touch. And one felt a.s.sured, without trying the experiment, that her resentment at such a liberty would be expressed only by a gentle and deprecatory withdrawal. This same whiteness of her complexion was enhanced rather than marred by the presence of a few faint freckles, that suggested sunny fields and the wholesome a.s.sociations of country life. When excited, her grey eyes shone with a luminous brightness, as if all her vitality were gathered there, while an unexpected colour came and went beneath the delicate texture of her skin.

But of all Lena's attractions, none was more marked than her smile. It was frequent and unaffected, almost maternal in its good nature and indulgence, and disclosed two rows of little teeth, pure and fragile in appearance as porcelain. Yet this smile, so inviting to those who wished to be invited, was disillusioning to cooler and more discriminating observers, for in it her ordinary quality was disclosed, her redundancy of sweetness, her lack of that intellect which enables a woman to triumph over the ravages of time.

As she waited there by the gate, she marked the lapse of time by the cars that pa.s.sed the end of the alley at intervals of fifteen minutes, occupied not so much with thoughts as with sensations, both those of the moment and those of antic.i.p.ation. The air was delightfully soft, like that of springtime, and she responded to its caress much as a flower responds, lifting her face placidly to the sky. The atmosphere had now reached the point of saturation, and her fine hair was moistened as by a heavy dew. From time to time she gave an affectionate touch to some small creature which she held warmly in the bend of her arm beneath her cape, or turned her head to listen to the stamping of the horses in a near-by stable. Directly across the alley, a large, half-finished building lifted its walls in the dim light, like a ruin, exhaling from its yawning windows a mingled odour of fresh pine boards and plaster; and toward these squares of blackness she sometimes turned a look almost childish in its suggestion of vague timidity.

At last, when she had lingered long past the time agreed upon, she sighed, but without resentment, and resigned herself to disappointment.

She wished to see him this night in particular, for she had something of importance to tell. He had forbidden her to write, and she accepted this tyranny as she accepted the man. Without reflecting deeply upon this elaborate caution of his, the secrecy of their courts.h.i.+p made an appeal to a certain demand of her own nature for concealment and mystery. Where a spirited girl would have questioned and resented, she merely acquiesced.

She had almost abandoned hope when she caught sight of him in the circle of electric light at the far end of the alley. He gave a quick look to left and right before turning in her direction. She would have known that alert turn of the head in any crowd, and now, as his footsteps sounded nearer and nearer, along the narrow board walk that skirted the fences, she unlatched the gate and came out to meet him.

When almost upon her, his eyes caught first the white strip of ap.r.o.n beneath her dark cape, and then the dim little face above bending forward for a greeting.

"Well," he said, in a low tone, "did you think I was never coming, girlie?"

She leaned against him with a contented sigh. "You have come, Tom, and that's all I care about."

As he pressed her to him, the kitten, which had lain concealed till now in purring contentment beneath her cape, leaped to the ground and disappeared in the darkness.

"How I hate a cat!" he exclaimed, startled. "I 'd like to set my dog on the beast." His irritation merely elicited a little ripple of amus.e.m.e.nt, for though she was submissive to his will, she was never afraid of his censure. "Come," he continued; "this is no place to stand. We will go into that new building across the way."

He took her hand and guided her between scattered blocks of stone, over a shaking plank, and into the darkness she never would have ventured to enter alone. The large room in which they found themselves was already floored. The smell of fresh plaster, which was perceptible even from without, was here intensified, and he sniffed it with relish, for such works of construction always appealed to his nature. An open window, facing the street, admitted a misty illumination from the electric light beyond, and disclosed in one corner a heap of boards.

"Now," he said eagerly, taking her almost roughly by the shoulders and turning her about, "give me a kiss."

All the graciousness and charm were with her, all the strength with him. He was an abrupt and dictatorial lover, but she was a born sweetheart. At the moment when her arms were twined about him she most perfectly expressed herself. He drank in her kisses thirstily; then grasped her wrists firmly and removed them from his neck, as if he realised a peculiar responsibility.

"There, Lena," he protested, "that will do." But he still continued to hold her wrists. "Just like a couple of pipestems," he remarked. "How easily I could break them!"

She accepted the comment as a tribute to her delicacy, a proof of his strength. It was this strength that drew her, so that she swayed toward him involuntarily; but even though it contained an element of possible cruelty, it was not purely physical. Perhaps a realisation of this fact allowed her to shelve upon him entirely the responsibility of her impulsiveness.

"Come over here, Tom," she pleaded, drawing him into the corner, "and sit down. I want to tell you something. Besides, I 'm half dead with standing."

The hint of pathos in her last words was lost upon him, for he was almost incapable of appreciating physical weariness. He knew her ready forgiveness also so well that he took it for granted, without even offering an explanation of his lateness. It was characteristic of their relations.h.i.+p that he felt no desire to tell, nor she to hear, the details of the political struggle now drawing to a close. She was too purely his sweetheart to share his cares; her loving embrace sufficed for their lightening. Even in the shadow of their retreat they could see each other's faces distinctly, hers moonlike, with hair like an halo of the moon, and his of more swarthy hue. If she was beautiful in his eyes, he fulfilled no less her ideal of manhood; and certainly an impartial witness could not have said that either judgment was unfounded.

"Well," he began, after surveying her a few moments with appreciation, "out with it. Some new man is chasing after you. Who is he?"

She leaned her face against his shoulder, then sat up and shook her head prettily, pleased with the thought of his jealousy.

"I can't help it, Tom. That impudent little Hollister Pyle won't give me a moment's peace."

"What does he do?" Emmet catechised grimly.

"He makes a grab for me every time I pa.s.s him on the stairs; that is, when his mother is n't looking."

"Why don't you turn around and break his face?" he demanded angrily, lapsing into graphic vernacular. The suggestion was obviously too absurd to need reply. "I 'd like to get my hands on the young whelp,"

he went on, squaring his shoulders. "I would n't leave a whole bone in his body."

"You can't do that, Tom, dear," she expostulated, in gentle alarm.

"No, I can't," he admitted reluctantly. "It would n't do to be pinched for a.s.sault and battery only a fortnight before election. I won't write him a threatening anonymous letter, either. That is n't my way of doing business. I tell you, Lena, you 've got to get rid of him, yourself."

"I will," she declared, with what was, for her, a tone of decision. "I 'm going to leave to-morrow."

"That is n't getting rid of him; that's running away," he fumed, profoundly dissatisfied. "You 'll meet the same sort of thing in the next place. Why don't you stay and fight it out?"

"I don't like the girls, either," she explained. "They 're all against me."

"A lot of cats," he muttered. "But where are you going?"

"To Bishop Wycliffe's."

"No!" he cried.

"Why not?" she questioned. "It 's an easier place than this one.

There are no young men there, Tom. That ought to satisfy you. I saw Miss Wycliffe to-day."

"I don't like the bishop," he said, with some hesitation, as if aware of the lameness of the objection, "and he does n't like me. There 's no man in this town more opposed to me than he is. I don't want you to go there."

"You never let me do what I want to, Tom," she complained despairingly.

He caught her in his arms and gave her an exasperated kiss. The logic of the argument was with her, and he could meet it only by an unreasonable prohibition. "I don't want you to go, anyhow," he reiterated.

"But I 've got to go somewhere," she insisted, placing her two hands upon his shoulders. She attempted to give him a little shake, with the result that she shook only herself. His physical immobility was so suggestive of his mental att.i.tude that she desisted, with sudden meekness, and the point was apparently settled as he wished. He possessed himself of her hand, and began to stroke the inside of her arm, as if he had discovered a new charm in her.